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

Hello friends :) I am beginning a CK2 Let's Play, as House Targaryen, but rather than taking either Aegon the Conquerer or Khaleesi Dany, I'm going to play the Robert's Rebellion scenario. If you play as Rhaegar, this is somewhat doable, because he's got Aegon-tier stats. Aerys The Mad is... somewhat less gifted. So that's who I'm starting as!

Note that this will be a Narrative LP more than Gameplay, but anyone who wants mechanics explained only has to ask, and I shall make a great hash of explaining and lead you astray!

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Chapter Links:

Chapter 1: A Thousand Foes Beset Me
Chapter 2: Dwindling Flame
Chapter 3: The Brief Wondrous Reign of Rhaegar Targaryen
Chapter 4: No Place For A Boy
Chapter 5: Ambitions and Marriages and Tourneys, Oh My!
Chapter 6: The Heir to House Targaryen
Chapter 7: Cut Down In His Prime
Chapter 8: The Next Generation
Chapter 9: Brown of Hair
Chapter 10: Six Weeks
Chapter 11: Outmaneuvered
Chapter 12: Shattered Kingdom
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Interlude: The Great Houses of Westeros
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Chapter 13: Lord Boremund's War
Chapter 14: The Dragon Ascendant
Chapter 15: Targaryens, Rulers of the Vale
Chapter 16: Matters of Some Consequence
Chapter 17: Retaking The Reach
Chapter 18: Catching Our Breath
Chapter 19: Taming the Wild Men
Chapter 20: Fighting a Land War in The North in Winter
Chapter 21: Heartbreak
Chapter 22: An Ending to Things
Chapter 23: An Inauspicious Ascendancy
Chapter 24: The Iron Islands
Chapter 25: The Death of a King
Chapter 26: The King in the West
Chapter 27: Kingslayer
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Epilogue
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~The Targaryens from Aerys II Onwards~
262 - 284 ~ King Aerys II
284 - 285 ~ Rhaegar
285 - 297 ~ Regency of Septon Jarmen for Aegon
285 - 307 ~ Aegon
307 - 321 ~ Regency of Daenerys for Rhaella
307 - 346 ~ Rhaella
346 - 355 ~ Queen Rhaella I
355 - 364 ~ King Aelix I
364 - Not Long ~ King Baelor II

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Chapter 1: A Thousand Foes Beset Me

FAITHLESS TREASON
A THOUSAND FOES BESET ME

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My son, my dear son, my Rhaegar. Among all those in the realm, he alone can I trust implicitly. The Starks charged into my keep, MY castle, MY CITY!! seeking to kill my son and I! Did they not know the honor the Targaryens bestowed upon Lyanna Stark by taking her to be a wife?

I am King Aerys Targaryen, the Second of His Name.
(Traits: Flamboyant Schemer; Knight; Fire Obsessed; Tyrant; Wroth; Stubborn; Paranoid; Cruel; Insane)

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I will not be denied! Now Robert Baratheon has risen against me, against the Iron Throne, against THE DRAGON! The traitor must be burned! He is joined by Eddard Stark, Hoster Tully, and Jon Arryn. Stormlands, The North, The Riverlands, and Mountain And Vale, all risen against me! This will not stand!

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I send ravens to every lord still loyal.

I send my Hand and my Master of Coin to work, gathering the wealth of King’s Landing. The people must pay for the war. Then I make some rearrangements to the Small Council. I trust none of them, not a one, except my son Rhaegar who serves as Master at Arms and is commander of my forces in the field. And I name Thoros of Myr my Master of Laws. He speaks of fire in most… intriguing terms. Perhaps he might have insights worth hearing.

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Then I see the Alchemists. They understand. I do not trust them, but they do understand. Fire is clean, and pure, and will burn away all the sins and treasons of this world. It will cost them much to make Wildfire, but I pay gladly.

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Lord Jon Connington sends word that the Baratheon traitors have massed 16,000 soldiers and they march for King’s Landing. It is more than we have, but they are not led by Dragons. Or aided by the lands of the Reach.

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There’s something that can’t wait any longer though. A de- This damned chair will not cease it’s torment of me! Another scratch. A decision must be made. A decision about one of my own Kingsguard. I hear whispers that Barristan Selmy will be more loyal to his house than his King. I do not believe it. These are tricks told by my enemies! Selmy rescued me once before, he will serve now. (This, hilariously, gives Aerys the trait “Just”) The people see the justice and wisdom of this and celebrate it! No, they know the slanders of Baratheon and Stark are only lies, and that their King is wise and just.

I hear news the Stormlander army has reached my personal demesne. IT WILL NOT STAND! My ancestor Aegon the Conquerer was the one who made this house, the one who gave them their name and realms and power! Now I must destroy them the same. I suppose it is fitting in its way.

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Good and bad news arrives a few days later. Some of my men coming from Massey’s Hook run into the Baratheon force. My loyal men, my soldiers. I almost ride out then and there, but an Alchemist arrives just before I send for my horse. He reports that they have had success making Wildfire, and the stocks are now enough to turn the tide of a battle. It is glorious! For the first time in weeks I laugh, for I know the justice of the Dragon will stand strong.

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The Bartheon army is almost upon us! I review our own forces. Then I appoint the men who will lead them into battle when the enemy arrives. But… where is Rhaegar? He was to lead the center! He was to be my sword in the field! I cannot find him! I CANNOT FIND HIM! They say only he is not at court! Where has he gone? WHO HAS TAKEN HIM?

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I run to search every room of the Red Keep. As I do so, I see Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, organize the men. He seems to be gesturing to Arthur Deyne. Thoros is there as well. As I go from room to room I hear trumpets and think absently battle is joined, but it is a thousand men from the north come to support their King. As I search, I come across Lord Osmund of Dyre Den conspiring with a page or whore, or possibly both. I hear him say the Iron Throne has too much power and it must be reduced! HE IS ANOTHER TRAITOR!

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I summon the guards on the spot and they throw him into prison. I will deal with him soon. For now, I must find my son. (Aaaand Aerys loses “Just”. Membership in faction is in itself not grounds for punishment; only plots.) I know any hopes of HIS plans coming to pass are destroyed with his arrest!

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The Throne Room is a bleak and dark place without my son. I searched for days, I sought him throughout the city, and found nothing. None of my guards or men can shed light on it. I sit in the dull room and weep, weep for my lost son. Oh Rhaegar, what fate has befallen you? What traitor has slipped a knife into your back? Then I hear the sounds of war and it rouses me. Rhaegar may be gone, but I am not! I am A TARGARYEN! WE SHALL PREVAIL!

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The war…

We are undone! We are defeated! But there is still hope, there are still loyal men in the field, there is still a long siege, there is still the fire. Some of my advisers recommend sending my family away, or even going with them. I will not! There is nowhere in Westeros safer for them than the Red Keep and I shall lead the defense myself.

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You see? I was right to stand firm. A raven has just arrived from far to the north, where Lord Maldrec Crowl of Deepdown has proclaimed his loyalty to me. He begs forgiveness and states he was not even told by Eddard Stark of the reasons for his men being summoned. It is precisely the sort of lie I know the Starks would tell, they have no honor!

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Bahaha! Yes! All is well once again. The siege is lifted! I hear from ravens that a great host of Tyrell soldiers is approaching from the Reach! The Baratheons flee in fear. And not a day later, another Raven arrives from Castle Cerwyn. Even one of Stark’s closest has turned against him! Now the dominoes are beginning to fall.

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NO! All is lost! The faithless traitor Walder Frey has sided against me, joining the Stark and Tully armies! I vomit in rage. I will see every last one of his misbegotten bastard children burned before his eyes! ARRRRGHH! As I rage, another message, even worse!

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Sweet, loyal Jon Connington has been struck down in battle! The bastard Baratheon did it himself, though he must have used some trick or had help, for few men could match Connington! His cousin Ronald Connington sends word that he shall take up his fight.

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My son Viserys is becoming known for spending time in the kitchens. (And he apparently ate the screenshot of the event in question, so have this little message instead.) It will not do to get fat! I strike him with the birch until he sobs and says he will no longer indulge so. Also, I notice that Rhaegar is here, so I command him to ride out and take charge of our remaining armies. (I have no idea where Rhaegar went or why he came back, but he was just "Away from Court" for a couple of weeks there!)

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Suddenly, a great army of Tullys descends on King’s Landing! They take my army by surprise, but I am not concerned. Over 25,000 loyal men fight a short ways to the south, and once the Baratheon army is crushed by them, they will turn and destroy the Tullies in turn!

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SLAUGHTERED! The traitor armies of Baratheon and Tully are both shattered! It is a glorious day. I issue orders to call up more men.

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And now the time has come to decide on young Viserys’ path. He is much like his father, fierce and burning with passion, so I decide upon a courtly education for him. No expense is spared.

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Shockingly, a courtier advises me that the vaults are empty and we are deeply in debt. This is not possible!

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I hear news that from the North come the armies of the Arryns and Starks, accompanied by their Frey running dogs. No matter, they shall be smashed as their comrades in treason were. I suddenly feel rather tired, so I shall retire for the night.

That's what you get for trusting Walder Frey, Aerys!

That's not late so much as treacherous.

That's some wicked pissah facial hair, Aerys.

Thanks for the comments everyone! I'm pleased to present to you Chapter 2!

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Chapter 2: Dwindling Flame

I greet the day with vigor, but my mood is soon soured by one of those damnable points on this chair. Why oh why did Aegon see fit to make it so uncomfortable to sit on? I’m holding the realm together and I cannot even find a comfortable seat.

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I suddenly remember the traitorous Osmund and call him for trial. I couldn’t decide whether to try him or execute him on the spot. A trial shows the Realm’s justice, but executing on the spot shows the King’s perfect wisdom. I had Commander Gerold flip a coin for me. Apparently people have taken to calling him The White Bull, no doubt for his feats in battle on the fields by King’s Landing.

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Osmund is completely unable to muster any defense, of course, because he is guilty. I sentence him to death by burning. The fire cleanses him and burns away his treason.

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Argh! The Riverlands and North have spent the time I was beating back Baratheon gathering their own forces in huge numbers! Even the armies of the Reach are undone. I send my new armies to help them. If Dorne does not send their soldiers soon… Dorne. Can we ever really trust the Dornish? Of course we cannot. I half-expect them to march on King’s Landing themselves.

No, the Dornish proclaim themselves ‘busy’ in the Stormlands, and report another huge Baratheon army there. I doubt that! If he could replenish his men so quickly so could I. No, it is clean that Prince Doran is working for the enemy. With the Reach and Crownlands depleted and Tywin Lannister still mustering his men, it is clear I must turn somewhere else for my armies.

I instruct my Master of Coin to take a loan from the Iron Bank. They should be honored to support the Iron Throne. I will deal with the moneylenders some other time, when the rebels have been defeated. I will not turn my gaze back from the Narrow Sea though. No, I have a plan. The Blackfyre Bastards have plagued House Targaryen for generations now. What could be less expected than to use them to defend the true bloodline? I send a delegation to hire the Golden Company. Perhaps I will have the chance to set some things straight with them too. Thoros of Myr volunteers to go.

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Before I hear back, my steward brings me a small bit of good news. The people of King’s Landing are so desperate to see their King triumph that they have volunteered considerable money to aid the cause. I ensure their names are taken - they should have volunteered this on the first day of the war. In time they will be punished for their intransigence.

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Now that I have the needed money, I establish a household guard to augment the King’s Guard and Goldcloaks. I won’t be undone here in my own city, I can tell you this much! The sergeants are to drill the men.

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No…

NO!

TREASON! THE HIGHEST OF TREASONS!

The man I was awaiting to bring armies to my side, Tywin Lannister, has turned against me! He has declared himself for the rebels! But… but wait. No, this must be a ruse on his part. A very clever ruse. Yes, he will infiltrate them and destroy them from within. Ha! A clever man, and cunning. He knows that for the ruse to succeed even I must seem enraged by it. Yes, I will play the part.

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I order Jaime Lannister brought before me to be executed. That will convince the world that Tywin and I are mortal enemies! It is a sad sacrifice, for the boy has some skill with a blade, but Tywin will understand.

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Of course, with him gone I must find another knight for the Kingsguard. I decide upon Ser Triston of Langward Hall. He seems an alright sort.

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As I mustered my new recruits, the Arryn army descends upon King’s Landing. We face another siege! This will end no better for them than the last one, and very probably worse.

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Some of my Small Council come to me, speaking of the danger King’s Landing is in. I will not flee. This is my city, and I will defend it with mine own hand if I must! I order my household guards to begin destroying everything of value in the city. If they are to take it, they will find nothing here but ashes.

It works even better than I had expected! The armies outside find nothing to feast on except the carrion of rats and crows, and they move away with empty bellies. Soon they are back though, and half the realm is being devoured by the traitor armies! I await Tywin Lannister’s revelation, because only that can save me now.

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BETRAYAL! I just got word that the Golden Company has turned its back on us! Upon the true Dragons! I should not be surprised and yet I believed they would rally to the side of the Dragon against a far greater enemy! I order the beginnings of a plot against the traitor captain of these brigands. Nobody shall defy ME and go unpunished!

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Wait… the armies outside the walls are Lannisters. But they are beginning a siege! No! HE WAS REALLY AGAINST ME THE WHOLE TIME! I swear that Tywin Lannister shall meet the same fate as his son! (That is a total of over 80,000 soldiers against me. Even with dragons I wouldn't fancy my chances.)

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Hahahaha! Some small piece of justice in this world. The captain who defied my has died by the poison of a viper. Perhaps this dark and subtle solution will serve where armies have failed me. Perhaps indeed… I order the same policy to be commenced with Tywin Lannister.

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Oh, but now something glorious has occurred. A Braavosi from across the Narrow Sea has come before me upon the Throne and seeks only an amount of gold in exchange for his skills. I know the reputation of these men. I order the very paint from the palace walls to be stripped and presented to him.

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Within hours I hear word that Tywin Lannister lies dead! Oh but a shame he could not be taken by fire.

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I begin preparations for the execution of Robert Baratheon. As I do so, I am brought word that a vassal of mine has begun a faction, one intended to DEPOSE me! DEPOSE ME! I AM AERYS TARGARYEN, I WILL NOT BE DEPOSED! NOT BY ANYONE! I order him burned before me.

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And just days later, another Lord is discovered with the same ambition. Lord Bayle of Rollingford will meet the same fate!

Ah, here is my son coming to me, my dear Rhaegar. He does have quite a serious look though, no doubt yet more bad news is at hand.

Burn the traitors! :argh:

Ahahahahahahaha RIP everyone

ded Jaime

ded Tywin

ded Lannisters

I don't want to set Westeros on fire. I just want to start a flame in the Lannister's hearts.

Cersei and Tyrion are still alive, as are Kevan and a couple of similar characters. There are still Lannisters to destroy.

However, there may - I stress, may - be bigger fish to fry at this time.

Is that a Tully pun?

Ahahaha it genuinely was not intended that way xD

This chapter heralds the dawn of a world Paul Chotic will believe to be the best of all possible worlds.

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Chapter 3: The Brief Wondrous Reign of Rhaegar Targaryen

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However justified Stannis Baratheon may feel in imprisoning me, the conditions of this cell are exceedingly poor. Should I get the chance I shall petition him to move me into quarters more befitting of my rank. Even if that rank is currently nominal.

I am Rhaegar Targaryen, and had I ascended to the Iron Throne I would have been King Rhaegar I. My father put paid to that, it seems, quiet conclusively. Aerys II is my father and I honor him, but he has led this realm and our house to ruin. When I climbed the steps to the Iron Throne he recognized me, and it broke my heart to betray him. I don’t know if he has quite realized what I have done, but he is deposed now. His madness towards the end was quite shocking.

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He did not even seem aware that his foe Robert Baratheon had been slain by Lord Paramount Mace Tyrell nine months ago. (I had completely missed this happening, but fortunately Aerys II is insane enough that I can make it work!)

His brother, Stannis, continued the fight. Our armies were shattered and our allies depleted. My father spoke only of burning the whole realm to ashes, taking wild swings between ludicrous optimism and hopeless despair. I do not doubt he would have destroyed the whole city with wildfire before surrendering. I would have been tempted to do the same. But the realm is more important than our victory, even our house.

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So now I am stripped of all titles except the Lordship of Sharp Point, a title which passed into my demesne barely noticed. I was far too busy fighting the war to dole it out to a vassal or elevate someone to it, and in truth I had forgotten all about it until I surrendered to Stannis Baratheon and his demands did not include it. He is not a man to leave out such details. I do not know what to make of His Grace in permitting me to keep it.

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I imagine numberless scenarios of King Stannis’ wrath. By all accounts he is punctilious to a fault, and I do not expect he will be inclined to show mercy to my family. To my knowledge my children, Aegon and Raenys, and my brother Viserys, remain free and safe with my mother, far to the east in Mantarys. I smuggled them out shortly before moving against my father.

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I believe there is only one means through which I might secure my freedom. A trial. If Stannis does not have me killed or exiled first, I must either await a trial at court or demand a trial by combat. I am a highly proficient warrior, but I am by no means the best in the realms. Given his newfound position on the Iron Throne I expect Stannis could summon the best in the realms, including from his Kingsguard, if they side with him. Considering my father’s cruel killing of Jaime Lannister, I have little reason to doubt they would.

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I elect to wait. To my surprise, within a few days a new war begins. Apparently Prince Doran of Dorne has refused to bend the knee to King Stannis, and Stannis has immediately taken up arms to demand their loyalty. His boldness is beyond doubt.

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Shocking news comes to me a few days later. Doran has reconsidered, convinced that he could not hope to win. To defy the Dragon for over a century, but capitulate to the Stag after a week. How the Dornish have fallen. Westeros is again united, at least up to the Wall. I wonder what fate awaits me now that Stannis can turn his attention to rule.

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With the war lost, I am forced to ‘free’ Lady Lyanna Stark. She is beautiful beyond words, and my heart aches to let her slip away, but what choice have I got? I inform Stannis’ men of her location and she is soon set free.

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Stannis is formally crowned in a ceremony in King’s Landing. From my cell in Storm’s End I learn little of it but I hear it was a grand affair but one he was evidently impatient to be done with. He was prudent to imprison me here, far from whoever may remain loyal to my family. I will one day be free however, and I will restore the Targaryens to the Iron Throne. If not I, then a descendant.

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Having said that, I am moved to King’s Landing. On the way I heard the most bizarre of rumors, and one I cannot accredit. The rumor goes that Lord Eddard Stark, brother of Lyanna, usurper along with Robert Bartheon, has founded a faction to usurp the Iron Throne. Specifically to expel Stannis Baratheon and install… me. (Seriously wtf are you thinking Ned)

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I do not have long to consider this possibility, however absurd it might be. King Stannis himself comes to see me and informs me that I am to stand trial. He offers me the choice between trial by combat and trial at court. I decide upon the latter.

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To my surprise, Prince Doran opposes me. Stannis has presumably demanded it in exchange for letting him keep his Lord Paramountcy. In any event, I muster all my wits and wisdom and I believe I make a compelling case. Yes, my father committed crimes, some of them very grave, but I am not my father. My acts in the war were in deference to my pledges of loyalty to house and liege. I urged him to make amends and to find peace. And when the war was lost, instead of letting King’s Landing burn and thousands die, I overthrew him. I did not even sit upon the Iron Throne before issuing my surrender. If I ever grace that seat, it will not be for a few minutes while I await some pretender who deigns to treat with me. I feel its absence and it fuels my determination to undo all these injustices.

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Doran is at least my equal and makes a striking argument against me. He maintains that my initial taking - kidnap, he insists - of Lyanna Stark was the cause of the whole war and that every subsequent atrocity must rest on my shoulders. I will never admit this out loud but he is right. The burden weighs heavily upon me.

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I am proclaimed guilty. To my visible shock, King Stannis displays mercy upon me - he exiles me to the Wall, to live out my days as a Black Brother of the Night’s Watch. When I travel north and take the vows, I will forsake all claims to my lands and my realms. It will fall to my children to restore our family. But I will, at least, be alive to guide and advise them, however distantly and remotely. I have my life. It is a gift I had not understood the weight of until Stannis pointed at me and I awaited his sentence.

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So ends the reign of Rhaegar Targaryen, Lord of Sharp Point. I was King of the Seven Kingdoms for perhaps three hours; Lord of Sharp Point for four months and a few days. It falls now to my son, dear Aegon, to lead us. He is four years old. It would have been a tremendous burden for me. It agonizes me beyond words to see it on his shoulders. I have no opportunity to await his return from Mantarys before I must go north, so I leave a letter for him.

Ahahaha Ned Stark what the hell

Ned Stark has a history (future?) of making good decisions.

Time for another chapter! Not the most exciting one as it primarily concerns Aegon growing up, but such is life in Westeros.

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No Place For A Boy

The boy has little notion of his situation, or of the precarious place his family now finds itself in. He has accepted the absence of his father with some maturity, though does not seem to entirely comprehend that he will never return from the Wall except, perhaps, on certain very rare missions.

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Now that he and his family have returned from Mantarys, young Aegon can begin to take up the mantle of his heritage. I am Septon Jarmen and for the time being, I have been appointed Regent. It is not a position I particularly sought, but it was felt that given the… delicacy of our relationship with Stannis, someone other than a Targaryen should serve as regent for the time being.

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A Maester arrived from the Citadel today, one Garse. He seems learned enough, if a bit short-tempered. I do worry about his lack of faith though, both for his sake and that of our young charge.

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Two pieces of news reach us, one unexpected but not all that surprising, the other deeply shocking. The first concerns His Grace King Rhaegar, who is now a member of the Night’s Watch. Apparently his skills were very obvious and within a few short months he has become right-hand to the Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, one of the Watch’s three extant fortresses. The second piece of news is that the usurper Stannis Baratheon has sent us a ransom offer. He proposes a very modest sum of money in exchange for the freedom of King Aerys II. We accept after little deliberation. His Grace may have gone mad, but he is a Targaryen nonetheless.

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A most delicate matter has come before us. Stannis Baratheon proposes that he be wedded to Lady Lyanna Stark. Following her so-called rescue from Rhaegar, she promptly demonstrated that she was with him through choice. She even remained with the family since its fall, and has been serving as a diplomat for us. But a war was fought over this woman, and we cannot risk the wrath of Stannis. We agree, with great regret, to his proposal.

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News from the Citadel. Winter is, as the Starks are so fond of saying, coming. One small blessing of the Targaryen fall is that our modest lands are reasonably far south and unlikely to be sorely affected, unless the winter is especially brutal. Stannis Baratheon will learn how much he likes ruling now!

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The time is at hand to decide upon young Aegon’s education. There are many options and all have their strengths. But a Targaryen rules through power and glory, conquers through skill and force of arms. We decide that he shall learn the warrior’s trade. And we take a desperate and strange gamble.

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We send the child north to the Night’s Watch, not to join it himself but to be tutored there by his father. I do not know whether this is an entirely precedented arrangement, but whatever arguments Rhaegar makes to the Lord Commander appear to succeed. In his absence we must rule the realm as best we are able. Hopefully his father’s brilliance will be conveyed to his son. Certainly the brutal conditions at the Wall will harden the young man. It is a desperately cruel thing that we do, but he must endure it.

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Apparently the boy is no impediment to Rhaegar. He has been recalled to Castle Black where, Aegon in tow, he has been appointed to Master at Arms for the Lord Commander. A prestigious post in any place, the dangers the Watch face makes it even more important at the Wall.

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No news of consequences arrives for a very long time, but eventually some reaches us. We are informed that the Lordship of Sharp Point and, hence, Lord Aegon, are to be vassals of Lord of Massey’s Hook, currently Lord Maric Massey. Whilst it is in principle an insult to degrade our status in this manner, in reality it is to our advantage to be separated from Stannis in this manner. His rights towards us, and our obligations towards him, are rather diminished by this step.

A raven arrives from the Citadel bearing the good news that winter is coming to an end. It is a dreadful shame that Stannis was not tested by it, but it is a great thing that it has passed us by doing so little harm.

Mere days after this another raven arrives, this one bearing terrible news. Lady Elia Martell, who had become Lady of Plankytown in Dorne in the aftermath of Robert’s Rebellion, has passed away. She was never possessed of good health and died at the age of merely 31. I pen a letter to Rhaegar and another to Aegon. It does mean that the young boy has inherited Plankytown, however, and that may prove to be a considerable boon. (And my screenshot has vanished!)

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Well, this is certainly an unfortunate and most awkward happenstance. Apparently Aerys has got wind of the acquisition of Plankytown and, having his wits about him enough to realize his fall from grace, he is demanding that title be awarded to him. He threatens us with transformation into a Dragon should we refuse. Under no circumstances could he be given land again, it would be the end of the house. It is dreadful to hurt him so, but we threaten him frankly with being sent to the Wall should be mention it again.

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The issue of Aerys has apparently been put to rest. He has died under circumstances that can only be described as “suspicious”, but with no witnesses and a list of motivated suspects longer than the Wall, I doubt that this crime will be solved. I write to Rhaegar and Aegon about the passing of their father, though I leave the more sordid details out of the lad’s letter.

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Worse, a few weeks later Aerys’ sister-wife Rhaella passes away. Despite the man’s sins she evidently loved him dearly and could not bring herself to go on without him. It is a tremendous blow to the family, and leaves only Rhaegar and Viserys as adult Targaryens.

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Disaster! It has been a quiet couple of years when suddenly, the news comes to me that Viserys was killed in single combat. I don’t know his foe’s name but by all accounts Viserys was the instigator, insisting the other man address him as King Viserys. The others laughed at him, sending Viserys into a rage that resulted in a fight, and his death. House Targaryen continues to deplete, and it seems it may be difficult to restore it. Still, the news from the Wall is good, and soon Aegon will come of age.

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The day is at hand! For twelve long years we have overseen what small patches of territory remain to House Targaryen, whilst the young scion trains in the brutal conditions of Castle Black. Today he returns to us; a strong and handsome young man. He has a talent with words and skill with the sword, but clearly Castle Black did not accord him much time for more scholarly pursuits. His economic and philosophical knowledge is wanting and, worse luck, he totally lacks guile in the realm of intrigue. His shaping is far from finished, but he is a Targaryen! He will prevail!

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(Traits: Dutiful Commander, Trained Fighter, Proud, Kind, Gregarious, Zealous, Honest.)

:3: I love this Let's Play. HOUSE TARGARYEN WILL PREVAIL

okay time to buy this game I think

I love the twist it has taken. House Targaryen endured a huge downfall but not in a "yeah they're all dead" way - such an interesting alternate fiction, becoming just a regular house.

Yeah CK2 can be great that way, with all sorts of different outcomes!

I should have an update up sometime today, by the way :)

Where's Dany in all this? Was she even born?

As it happens, she's in this very chapter! Prepare yourself for a surprise!

------

Chapter 5: Ambitions and Marriages and Tourneys, Oh My!

I am Aegon Targaryen and I am rightwise king of all Westeros, from Dorne to the Wall. This heritage has been stolen from my family by the usurper Robert Baratheon and his brother Stannis, who now sits upon the Iron Throne. I was raised at the Wall among the Night’s Watch - a harsh, rough climate surrounded by harsh, rough men. My companions were exiles, slavers, rapers, killers, thieves. A handful were good men, men like my father Rhaegar, forced to abdicate what little titles remained to him long before his time. He raised me at the Wall and I have mixed with the lowest in society throughout my youth. There are those at the Wall I respect, and a few I call friends, but that time is behind me now. I have returned to Sharp Point, a place I barely remember from my youth.

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In my absence my regent and the council have made some small improvements to the area, but nothing much could be done with such limited funds. After paying my respects to my liege lord Jon Massey, I set about the business of my realm, limited as it might be.

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I am myself betrothed to my aunt Daenerys. Already at just twelve years of age she is beautiful and brilliant, and I do not doubt she will be a rock upon which House Targaryen can stand. My elder sister Rhaenys remains unmarried, and one of my first tasks would be to seek a suitor for her. However, she has crossed the Narrow Sea and half of Essos to live in Mantarys. She insists that the people there, who follow the old ways of Valyria in worshipping the Dragon, are our people more than the westerners could ever be. Our people or not, this place belongs to the Targaryens. She is an irrelevance for the time being.

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When I was young, father emphasized the importance of adopting a goal and setting myself to pursuing it as fully as possible. I decide upon my first goal: I wish to have my martial prowess recognized and be appointed to Master of Arms for Jon Massey. It is a position of some note and one which, should I serve well, will help me to both understand military matters better and accrue renown to myself.

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My next order of business is my court of advisers. However there is little to be done in this regard, for my regent has found the more capable people in my small demesne and appointed them. I simply do not have a large enough realm to need to concern myself with political appointments very much, and there are very few members of the family eligible for any positions.

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News comes to me that Lord Paramount Renly of the Stormlands has wedded Lady Margaery Tyrell of the Reach. This makes them a powerful bloc indeed, though Renly is not renowned as a very able man.

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From Pyke we hear that Lord Paramount Balon Greyjoy has passed away of natural causes. He is succeeded by his son Rodrik, who is a man that lacks his father’s strategic skills.

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The peasants are displeased with our efforts to gather needed taxes and have expressed their dissatisfaction with an attack upon my Master of Coin. He is injured, but there is little to be done according to my officers. The assailants were numerous and cannot be identified. It vexes me deeply.

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In pursuit of my upcoming requirements to sire an heir, I have aided art devoted to the Mother, hoping she will in return bless me with fertility. Judging from how distracting I now find the serving girls, I suspect it worked.

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I receive a letter inviting me to a minor tourney to take place at Ghost Hill. It will not bring me special renown but I hope to test my mettle and bring home a trophy. (Also, Toland!)

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Shocking news reaches me at the tourney - Lord Jon Massey has been murdered, apparently on the orders of Falena Massey, his own aunt! Her motivations elude me. At any rate young Lord Morgan has asked that I become his Master of Laws. It is not the Master at Arms I hoped for, but it is too prestigious a position to decline.

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I am honored to be offered knighthood by a fellow competitor at the tourney. It is a position of prestige and of responsibility. In the tourney itself, I am beaten in the final event by Ser Aron Santagar, a competitor who proves to be talented and ferocious. However, I succeed in taking second place. It is not what I would hope for, but it is adequate. I remind myself I am still young as I take the road back home.

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Soon enough I am invited to another tournament of arms, this one at Haystack Hall. I respond in the affirmative. My experience at the prior event serves me well, for I am declared the victor of the tourney! It is a proud moment for myself, and I hope it presages things to come. I certainly intend to ensure that it does.

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The time has come to wed my aunt, Daenerys! She is a beautiful young lady who possesses an evident spark of brilliance. We are not close but I trust that, given time, we will grow to like and perhaps even love one another. For the time being she returns to Dorne to continue her tutelage under Oberyn Martell, a close friend of my father’s. Whilst the wedding is a modest affair, I am given to understand that word of it spreads across the Realm. Fitting for the Targaryens no matter how far we might fall.

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We have saved up a modest sum in our coffers, and I decide it is time to put it to use. Through a variety of tax reductions, inducements, and minor changes to the law, I am helping to establish a small town around the castle. The increased economic activity this will bring should ensure our financial situation grows better. I am no Maester with money but I am aware of its importance.

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As it grows increasingly clear that I will not be appointed to Master at Arms, I have decided I will adopt a new ambition. Valyrian Steel is the finest metal in the world and House Targaryen must have such a blade if we are to regain our holdings and glory. I will pay close attention to any possible leads on where I might acquire such a weapon.

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Money is vital. I am learning this rapidly, as almost all possible goals rely on it. I am no Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin in the Vale, a magician with gold, but I resolve to seek out a man of his caliber. I decide to impose a modest tax upon my feudal vassals - they grumble, but accept it. It is not an onerous burden but will hopefully fill my coffers more quickly, meaning I can do more.

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My wife has returned from Dorne. I do not know what transpired since I last saw her but… well let us say that I am dismayed that the tournament I have called in her honor allows me to participate only in a single ceremonial bout, limiting my chances of being killed, or at least blinded.

The tournament is a success, applauded by those who attended. I also spotted two competent hedge knights among the competitors and hired them as bodyguards. They are hardly Kingsguard material but then I’m hardly a king at the moment. (Both die within a couple of weeks of being generated by the game. I assume this is a bug.)

DANY WHAT THE HELL

So I think what happens with Dany is that the game enforces her name if a female child is born to Aerys, and it gives her the Attractive and Quick traits, but everything else is as random as it would be for anyone else. Hence her somewhat unfortunate genetics.

That is a strange creature you are wed to.

Chapter 6: The Heir to House Targaryen

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With little taking place at the moment except my daring efforts to sire an heir, I organize a grand hunt to take place here in Sharp Point. It’s not a large enough area to have particularly good hunting lands, but there ought to be enough for the event to be an enjoyable test of skill.

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A couple of days into our event my courtier Matarys has located a buck. He offers me the honor of the kill and whilst it’s not exactly the most prestigious kill in history, it is nonetheless a gesture I appreciate greatly. I make a note of his loyalty and humility - he may prove to be a valuable friend in times to come.

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The hunt was a modest success. As I expected there weren’t many impressive or dangerous animals, but there were enough to make it a worthy endeavor and one which I hope my few courtiers and vassals enjoyed.

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In an effort to show my elder sister the importance of the family and my readiness to accept her different religious faith, I dispatch a missive with a small gift for her in Mantarys. I inform her that she will always be welcome at my court, and invite her to at least visit me at some point.

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My wife Daenerys informs me at lunch one day that she is with child. The septa has confirmed it. I am happier than I expected. This is not only the scion of House Targaryen but proof that I will do my duty. Still, I must not speak ill of her. She may not be Margaery Tyrell’s match in looks, but she has many talents in the affairs of state.

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For some time the days are quiet while we await the arrival of the child. What little realm I possess is running smoothly enough and the coffers are comfortable enough, if not exactly bursting. Then a raven comes. Hand of the King Tyrion Lannister, popularly known as The Imp, faces a revolt from one of his vassals. Lady Alysanne Lefford, Duchess of The Golden Tooth, has proclaimed Tyrion a tyrant and is rebelling against his authority.

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By all accounts Lord Tyrion does not match this description. I am not privy to the specifics of Lady Alysanne’s charges but nothing I can uncover indicates The Imp deserves to be called Tyrant. My father told me of my grandfather’s acts against the Lannisters, burning Jaime Lannister alive and having Tywin assassinated, but whatever the foibles of that generation Tyrion is known as competent and well-intentioned man. (Traits: Elusive Shadow, Dwarf, Genius, Ugly, Cynical, Kind, Just, Honorable, Charitable, Gregarious)

In any event, the Lannisters can call upon vastly more wealth and manpower than the Leffords can. Perhaps Tyrion will not repeat Twyin’s treatment of House Reyne, but I doubt House Lefford will have a prayer anyway.

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Closer to home, the exceedingly unfortunately named Lord Dick Crabb invites me to a regional tourney. This is a distinctly larger affair than my previous engagements, so I eagerly reply in the affirmative. And I win! The money and prestige it brings me are rather more considerable than small tourneys as well. But I know I must train harder and gain more experience if I am to continue building my reputation and working towards the restoration of my house.

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Lord Morgan Massey has come of age and is holding a feast to celebrate as much. I reply that I will attend. As I am penning the letter to Lord Morgan, a handmaid excitedly bursts into my study. Before I or my guard can react she tells me that my wife is in labor! I dash to her chambers where I am blocked from entering by a woman as stern as any palace guard, but a short while later the child is born. I am allowed in to see my new daughter!

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We decide on the name Rhaella, after my grandmother.

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Shortly thereafter it is time for the feast, and I am greeted with congratulations and well-wishes. The feast itself is sumptuous and plentiful and during the course of it Lord Morgan and I share some wine and get to talking. I rather like the young man actually, he has his vices but he’s clearly a just and brave soul. Just days after I return to my castle, I get another invitation from him. He is to wed Lady Sylvia Thorne, a lass of fourteen. The wedding, like the feast, is lavish and delicious.

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It is something of a surprise when at this bright occasion Lord Morgan corners me and reveals a plot he is currently engaged in. He seeks to have his great-uncle Humfrey killed. I am shocked by this, but Morgan relates that Humfrey is an honorless coward and, even worse, a kinslayer. I have no compunctions about doing away with a kinslayer, so I accept. I hide my nerves quite well.

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After the feast I make a new friend, unexpectedly. Lady Catelyn Bracken and I find ourselves talking and exploring the grounds, and then sharing quite a bit of wine. She cares about the Seven as I do, but is funny and content as well. We talk a lot, and I think we might be firm friends. Eventually the wedding celebrations draw to a close and I return home, to my wife and new daughter.

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When I arrive, a different piece of news greets me. My father has written to me from Castle Black, informing me that the Lord Commander has died and a new one, Tion Dayne, has been elected to replace him. My father gives not a trace of disappointment or dissatisfaction in his letter, but it must be a bitter blow to remain in his position as Master of Arms instead of being elevated to Lord Commander. Still, there is time yet.

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Sharp Point sees the arrival of a group of wandering hedge knights. I have no particular love for their kind, but I know we all fall on hard times now and again. I direct the castle staff to see to the lodging of these men and their steeds, and to prepare a plentiful feast for them. They leave after a couple of days without anything of note happening, but as they depart a raven arrives, inviting me to another tournament. I eagerly accept! I also name Dany my Master of Laws now that she has recovered from childbirth. She is far better with words and diplomacy than anyone else in my court.

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The tournament does not go my way, not by any stretch of the imagination. I win a few minor duels but nothing of note, and I come away shamefully empty-handed. I resolve myself to do better next time!

Didn't hear any disappointment about the birth of a daughter instead of a son. Who knows, though; perhaps her marriage will secure some power in the future.

Dick Crabb

Can't imagine a man as great as Rhaegar being passed over for Lord Commander. Also I swear Dick Crabb is in the books too!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Jiro

Didn't hear any disappointment about the birth of a daughter instead of a son. Who knows, though; perhaps her marriage will secure some power in the future.

---

Aegon's just happy to have SOMEONE to continue the Targaryen line right now, because everyone else is either dead or in the case of his sister, refusing to marry or come home. He has generally positive traits as well like kind and none like ruthless, so he wouldn't really be too put out. Plus they can marry siblings because Targs, so if he has a son then a daughter ready to go is pretty good anyway :bigsmile:

Dick Crabb.

Dick Crabb is indeed a character in the books.

Dick Crabb - A Wiki of Ice and Fire

smurfing Dick Crabb what a name I missed that the first time xD

Chapter 7: Cut Down In His Prime

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Through some mechanisms I will not even hazard a guess at, it appears that Lady Alysanne is winning her war against Lord Tyrion.

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Lord Morgan sends me a discreet message informing me that our plot to kill his uncle is proceeding apace, and will soon reach fruition. Even if Humfrey deserves it I feel some discomfort at our methods. Still, I suppose sometimes the legitimate avenues fail. If they were perfect, my father would be King and I would be Prince.

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Sad news in my own court as Ser Florian, who has served as Master of Coin for many years, passes away from natural causes. I look through my other candidates for the role and appoint Garin, from Plankytown down in Dorne.

Shockingly, Tyrion has been so thoroughly beaten by his foes that he has requested the aid of Lord Edmure Tully, of the Riverlands. Edmure has obliged, but we will have to see if this turns the tide.

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My wife gives me the news that she is again with child! We are truly fortunate. The work to rebuild the House continues apace.

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Another daughter! I would, I confess, have preferred a son, but there is time yet. Dany suggests the name Rhaenys after my sister, but I decide on Aegon’s other sister-wife instead, and we name her Visenya.

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A few weeks after her birth, with things quiet as they usually are, I hear a commotion from the courtyard. Apparently, my Maester relates, there is a man in the courtyard who proposes to sell me a map that could guide me to treasures of Old Valyria! I order him brought to me. He asks for a drink before he begins, and I am happy to oblige. Even if he is a fraud or beggar, a stein of mead will hardly bankrupt the realm.

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We discuss things for a short time. He indicates on a map where he believes a Valyrian steel sword can be found. I recognize that this is not the best lead in the world but then there are very few leads to follow if one seeks such a sword. The Swords of my ancestors have long been lost, reforged, given away. House Targaryen needs Valyrian steel to triumph so I must take the risks of this journey.

My first task is to decide who to take on this journey with me. I am tempted to take the old man himself, but it seems he would not be terribly useful on the journey. There are dangers in the shapes of men, but I can fight well enough myself. No, I believe the biggest danger I face is the seas and tides. I shall take a man who understands the nautical sciences.

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The next task is to pick our transport. There is no cheap option, and only one which is remotely affordable. Much as I would love to have a grand custom ship built for the occasion I seek rather humbler passage on a transport. Soon we set off. In my stead, Daenerys will serve as Regent. Her judgment is sound and her style of rule quite similar to my own, so I trust her to discharge this duty as well on this journey as she has when I attended tourneys and feasts.

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The journey is, frankly, tedious. I embrace this tedium and go over the accounts of my demesne for the past year, something which hopefully will make me stronger in the field of finance. But a few days later I regret my decision not to study naval signs.

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Pirates are sighted nearby, and they are clearly aiming for us. I am Aegon Targaryen, Blood of Old Valyria! I will neither flee nor surrender. And we cannot beat their ship in this old transport. Our only option is close combat, so I give the order.

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I fight a pirate who, from the sounds of things, has some repute upon the waves. I feel no fear as we cross swords, but he slips past my defenses and drives his blade through my chest, seemingly without effort.

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I am lying on the deck coughing up blood. My vision fades. This cannot be how a dragon dies, slain by some nameless pirate! My final thoughts are of my father and my daughters. It falls to Rhaella and Visenya now… only they can save our house.

------

Well, this hasn't gone entirely according to plan.

>The Lusty Tyroshian Maid

oh my god

Also how does it feel having died to "Spack Jarrow"? :eyebrow:

I loved that little reference too. Glorious.

Please be aware, Mister A, that I consider every second of your life not dedicated to playing this or reporting upon its progress a waste.

Don't waste your life.

Play CK2.

NO. DAMMIT AEGON. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAD THE HOUSE BACK INTO GLORY.

Chapter 8: The Next Generation

In the midst of my second winter, I have finally come of age. I gaze out over my tiny realm and allow myself a smile. After twelve years of waiting I have come to rule in my own right. My father died when I was but four years old, my sister a newborn, and my thieving sow of a mother assumed the reigns of House Targaryen. I detected her pilfering from the treasury at a young age and commanded her to cease. She has obliged, but I will not forget this transgression.

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I am Rhaella Targaryen. I have endured tedium, interminable tournaments, a corrupt mother, a dead father, an absent grandfather. I will be Queen. (By the Seven LOOK AT DOSE STATS. I think the game wants me to do something with Rhaella, she got basically ever positive childhood event possible and has ended up like this.

I was asked by Lord Morgan II of Massey’s Hook to become his Master of Arms. I was fourteen at the time. I accepted. It would be a greater honor were he not a barely-competent glutton, but I do my duties and I do them well.

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When I was almost 15, I received news that my grandfather Rhaegar Targaryen, exiled decades ago to the Wall, has passed away from natural causes. He never saw our house restored to its rightful place. I count it among the many injustices our house has endured, heaped one atop another like so many corpses.

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However talented and gifted I am, there are only two possible ways to climb back onto the Iron Throne. The first is by intrigue, the other by brute force. Now that I can act without my mother’s oversight I can set both in motion. One of my first acts is to pen a letter to Varys, onetime locus of tremendous power in King’s Landing. Under Stannis Baratheon he has fallen into disfavor, but his talents remain as formidable as ever. He is wily but to my knowledge, broadly loyal to House Targaryen. I intend to appoint him my Spymaster.

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Second, I arrange the marriage of one Sarya Templeton to my courtier Rolland of Sea Dragon Tower. Whilst the no doubt positive effects on his morale are a benefit, my real reason is that she is known throughout the Kingdom as one of the finest diplomatic minds despite her young age - almost my own equal, in fact. Her arrival also gives me justification to remove my mother from her position. Despite her thefts, she is still my mother - I assign her the largely ceremonial role of High Almoner to assuage her unhappiness. It seems to work.

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Whilst I am busy with certain affairs of state, my mother requests a moment of my time. She reveals that, with my father’s death and her long requirement to serve as regent now passed, she would appreciate remarrying. I tell her I will give it due consideration. In truth, she has some childbearing years remaining. I wonder who, if anyone, might wish the hand of a Targaryen widow.

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After some investigation, I spy a potential opportunity. Soon the letters are sent, and she is married to Lord Raymund Tyrell. Matrilineally. The children will be of our house.

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Raymund himself is not objectionable and has modest skills with a blade. I appoint him as Bodyguard to myself. As to my own marriage, I discover a gem of a young man in, of all places, the Westerlands. Kennett Lannister is only twelve years old and all reports suggest he is destined for greatness. The lowly station of his father means he accepts my offer of betrothal and, like my mother’s new marriage, this will be matrilineal. The Lannisters are lesser targets than the Baratheons, but if I could tear them asunder while one of their own warms my bed and guards my back, it would be a delight.

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Tournaments bore me endlessly, I attended so many in my youth, but they are a necessary part of courtly life. I call for one to be held in honor of my mother’s marriage. Speaking of marriages, my sister has now become eligible. I immediately have her wedded to Lord Goodwin Tarth, Lord of the Straits of Tarth. I do not know whether the alliance we have nominally forged is worth anything, but I had no hope of securing better. My sister has grown so much these past years that it pains me to part, she used to be cruel and capricious, now she is kind and generous.

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I am invited to my sister’s wedding and, of course, I attend. (lol either Westeros just got SUPER progressive or there’s a bug here)

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Upon returning, it is time to turn to much more pressing and serious matters. I have heard rumors about the legitimacy of Stannis Baratheon’s children. Though he was supposedly the father with Lyanna Stark, there are various rumors which suggest that the woman was less than faithful. I do know she long carried a torch for my grandfather and was most unhappy about being forced to marry Stannis, especially after Robert’s death made her think she was free of the Baratheon burden. Soon we will move.

I really don't blame her for hating Dany; look at that face.

Seeds are being sown for the Targaryen name to rise once more. Exciting stuff.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pike

I really don't blame her for hating Dany; look at that face.

---

I actually went into the save and messed with Rhaella's genetics because she looked just like her mom otherwise :gonk:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Psychotic

Seeds are being sown for the Targaryen name to rise once more. Exciting stuff.

---

It is an exciting time to be a Targaryen!

After you've been fumbling around with no marks like Dick Crabbe, it's good to see names like Lannister and Tyrell in there.

Rhaella's got no time for smurfing around, she's going straight for the jugular.

I can't see the image that shows her stats but I assume she might hold the potential to gain quite a bit of ground for House Targaryen.

Apparently I had forgotten to include that picture in the first place D: I have edited the post and it's there now!

Chapter 9: Brown of Hair

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We bring the case before the King. I outline my arguments; that his children do not bear a resemblance to him. Steffon and Ronnet are brown of hair, whilst he is black of hair. His elder daughter, Artaria, resembles her mother perfectly - and has no features of her father except the color of her hair. Princess Senelle is too young for either to make much of a case about, but I have enough to press my case against her too.

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When Steffon realizes my aim, he betrays his horror, but is powerless to stop. Stannis hears me out.

And then rejects my arguments completely. I admit that I expected as much. He loved his wife and is known for the depth of his sorrow at her departure, and accepting her infidelity could kill him. The Baratheon name also hinges on his children. If they were disinherited he would have to either find new issue or to leave it to another branch of the family. Neither would be palatable.

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The truth of the matter is immaterial. I have forged letters which purport to demonstrate that Stannis knew himself not to be Steffon’s father. I send the news across the Realms with this fabricated evidence.

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Soon enough the rumors have spread across Westeros and many people, including lords and ladies, suspect that Stannis’ children are not true-born. In truth? I sincerely doubt a man as steadfast and stern as Stannis Baratheon would cheat on his wife. I also do not care. I will claw my way back to my throne through whatever means are necessary.

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My mother sends word that she is again with child and, soon enough, she indeed gives birth. My half-brother, named Jacaerys, is another addition to the House of Targaryen. The midwife tells me that fresh from the womb he was already healthy and strong, which bodes well for us all.

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Varys sends me word of a minor plot he has succeeded in bringing about. His ‘little birds’, as he calls him, informed him that Ser Robin Mormont has been caught with his hand in the lemon cake tin! In exchange for our disposal of the formal evidence, he agreed to admit to certain misdeeds and pay us a modest consideration. I do not know how Varys has maintained his intimidatingly vast network of spies and informants during his years out of favor, but however he did it, I appreciate the benefits it has brought.

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Suddenly, my Maester bursts into my study without knocking in a barely-comprehensible storm. He hands me a letter a raven just arrived with, and as I read it my eyes widen and I forgive him the trespass. Far to the North, at the Wall, Queen Beyond The Wall Gerra the Conquerer has smashed the Night’s Watch to pieces! The Black Brothers have retreated to Mole’s Town, but everything else has fallen to the Wildlings. The fact that this was her second attempt, and that her first failed while my grandfather still lived, is not lost on me.

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And then, just like that, Lady Sarya sends word from King’s Landing. Varys has passed away. He was sixty-six or so, a respectable age, but his talents might never be seen again in this realm. He had amassed a small fortune, and distributed most to his ‘little birds’, but sent a measure of it to myself as well. I am touched by his loyalty. And I must put aside my feelings and consider who my new Spymaster shall be.

Soon enough I come across a young man named Symond Crakehall, one of the best left in the world. He is far from Varys’ match, but who could that not be said of? I send an invitation and he accepts, bringing his pregnant wife as well. As the young man is but 16 years of age, I hope he will serve for a long time to come.

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Kennett Lannister comes of age and our wedding takes place. He is actually a rather handsome man, and certainly a competent one. Whether he is loyal remains to be seen. I arrange a wedding feast, of course, and I suppose I shall have to do my duty. Lie back and think of the Crownlands, Rhaella. I also name him my Master at Arms, as his military knowledge is commendable.

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To my surprise though, Kennett proves to be gentle and kind. He is, in fact, the very model of a Knight, husband, and indeed lover. I find myself smiling when I think of him and missing him when he is away.

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Our regular time spent together in the bedroom has led to the inevitable. I am with child. It is a brutal business that leaves me heaving into a bucket and weak with fatigue, and the Maester says such intensity is rare but not a danger. I persist in my duties nonetheless, and am eager to bring forth another Targaryen.

A son! A son is born! He comes out of me hunched over, misshapen. They tell me he will have a pronounced hunchback, and I curse his luck and the gods. He is still my son though, a Targaryen, and he will overcome this difficulty. After some thought, I decide to name him Aelix. Too much baggage with the names of prior kings. My Seven-damned picture of the child has vanished, but yeah he's called Aelix and has a hunchback because nothing's ever easy.

My lord, Morgan II Massey, has passed away of some illness or another. He is succeeded by his daughter Ravella, the only one of his three children to survive childbirth.

Sarya Templeton’s elderly husband dies and, sadly, she decides to leave my court for her home. I cannot persuade her to remain. I must, therefore, appoint the next-best diplomat available to me; my mother. I suppose enough time has passed since her thefts for her to have learned her lesson.

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I am again with child! Glorious indeed. I hope this one will avoid the unpleasant disadvantages which attend my eldest, but as long as they are a Targaryen who can act for the family, I care little.

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My Kennett finishes third in a local tourney. I tell him I am proud, which I am, but that I know he can do even better, which he can.

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Damnation! News comes from King’s Landing - Stannis has finally overcome his sadness at Lyanna Stark’s death and has taken a new wife. Leonette, apparently of common birth, no less! Many wonder if the king is going mad in his old age, but I doubt it. If he creates new issue there could be no doubt as to their legitimacy. What King would marry a commoner except for true and abiding love? She has several childbearing years left to her.

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My second son is born. Aegor Targaryen, and he already seems the very model of handsomeness. For the time being the succession is safe, between my own sons and my half-brother, who is now a boy of six and already shows promise in martial matters. This waiting game is testing my patience, but I have little choice. The pieces will move when they will move, and not before. All I can do is be ready.

Two sons. The Targaryen Dynasty is assured. This marriage could be quite fruitful too. Kennet seems talented, and Rhaella is awesome as smurf, so I look forward to gains in the future.

RIP Varys :'(

Chapter 10: Six Weeks

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Finally, movement forwards. I have spent months gathering allies in King’s Landing, carefully and meticulously vetting them and bringing them on board. Finally the opportunity strikes and with the aid of a bribed carriage driver, King Stannis’ new wife is sent to meet her untimely demise. It is a grim task, and grimmer still for the necessity of killing the carriage driver, but it is a necessary one. King Stannis grows old and I aim to prevent him from procreating again before he passes away. Whilst the circumstances are obviously very suspicious, Stannis finds no leads that bring him to the conspiracy.

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To the north, former Lord Paramount Eddard Stark, who had been usurped in some rebellion in my childhood, passes away at the age of 67. By all accounts he deserves his nickname “The Honorable”. I am saddened that I will never gloat over the destruction of his house for the treason it has done to mine.

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That thrice-damned assassin of joy Stannis Baratheon has already remarried, to someone called Perra. Another commoner! Is he just picking out whores from the brothels and elevating them to Queendom? I begin putting out feelers to repeat our efforts against Leonette, but the fear of the Seven has been put into the court of King’s Landing. I don’t know what threats Stannis has made, but not a single person is willing to join me in an effort against Perra. Fortunately that same fear seems to be keeping them silent about their own roles in Leonette’s death as well.

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Frustrated, I have taken to reading through old tomes in the castle’s library. It’s not an extensive collection but there are some interesting works in there, and I have found the efforts to decipher them calm and sharpen my mind. Many are just gibberish, but a few are actually clever codes that can be undone. Most interesting is the array of methods people have used throughout history to bring about political changes.

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A few days later and I realize from my nausea that I am once again with child. A third child is a great blessing indeed, and Kennett greets the news with great joy. I am now hoping for a girl, to be a sister-wife to Aelix. And a daughter it is. She has the striking eyes of a true Targaryen, with the golden hair of a Lannister. I name her Visenya.

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Shortly thereafter, my spymaster comes to me with dire news. (I don’t know why he started the letter with an insult, he’s got 100 relations with me!) My own Septon, Osney, is conniving to murder my sweet husband Kennett. I will countenance nothing of the sort! I order him seized and thrown into the dungeon. Unfortunately it seems he had guessed that we had learned of his plot, because he was already out of the castle on the way to the Septry when I gave that order. He raised his flag against me, hoping against hope that he might win. I order my own banners raised and march against him at the head of it.

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It takes just a few days to force his surrender. He had managed to rouse some peasant rabble to his cause, but they were swept aside without a single casualty among my men. One horse stepped on a dog’s tail and was bitten, but neither was seriously wounded.

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I have Osney executed on the spot. I will not countenance traitors and I will certainly not countenance those who seek to murder my family. I am a Targaryen! I may be a temporarily embarrassed Queen, but I am a Queen still. I then send word to my other Septon, the one in Plankytown, that he is to be my new court Septon and holy man. He is the most learned remaining in my court aside from myself.

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Well, it seems that Castamere is just not a place that the Lannisters can hold without trouble arising. Despite the example Tywin Lannister made of House Reyne, killing them down to their last child, his son Tyrion now faces a revolt on the part of House Piper, the new holders of the lands. Apparently, though, they were able to come to some sort of arrangement, as the revolt ends inconclusively after a few weeks. Many wonder if Tyrion is not undoing the work Tywin put into strengthening his House.

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Soon enough the time comes to decide on the course of education Aelix will undertake. After some deliberation I decide he must be shaped into a commander and warrior. The only way he can overcome his hunchback is to destroy it head-on. The Targaryens must be strong warriors and brilliant commanders, able to lead men.

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FINALLY! A raven arrived from King’s Landing just a moment ago, with perhaps the most momentous piece of news in the Realm for thirty years. Stannis Baratheon, curse his name, has finally died. Despite my efforts I could not secure his death, so he died peacefully and naturally at the age of sixty-seven. No matter, revenge is pleasant, but second to efficiency. Now - now my time is at hand!

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His heir Steffon is a lackwit prone to dour moods, and believed by half the world to be the son of some man other than Stannis. He will not, I expect, be a popular or effective king. Not that he is likely to get the chance to prove it. He is known for his kindness and general honesty as well as his idiocy, and has cultivated friendships with many Lords Paramount. I can still find the support needed to murder him within a week. The plan is set in motion within a few weeks of it being agreed upon.

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It is an easy kill. Supposed highwaymen ambush the King’s carriage during a trip through the Kingswood and slay him with crossbow quarrels. He looked, I am told, much like a hedgehog. After a mere six weeks on the throne his son Gulian, just ten years of age, as much of a moron as his father, inept with a blade, and too scared to use one anyway, has come to the throne. This young man I have no intentions of killing, at least not yet.

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Gulian is crowned and blessed by the High Septon. My investigations suggest that only his relative Renly Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and Princess Janyce of Dorne hold him in any regard. The rest of the Lords Paramount consider him either frostily or with outright hostility. Good. I must, however, continue the work and put pressure upon him. I turn to an old trick, one which helped against his father - I press the issue of his legitimacy. To my delight, his own Master of Whisperers, Merrell Bushy, a highly competent man, gets wind of my plot and agrees to join it. With his efforts we cannot fail.

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To aid me even further, Hand of the King and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands Tyrion Lannister dies of natural causes. Given that Tyrion was a brilliant man, if shackled by his status as a dwarf, it is to my advantage that he passes away. Four of Tyrion’s six children, all daughters, are themselves dwarves, and it is Sallei who takes the reigns as Lady Paramount. She is far from her father’s match. Gulian names Renly Baratheon, probably the only prominent person in all Westeros he can trust, as his new Hand. I can barely disguise my happiness at this, as Renly has never been a very exciting man. Age has given him some seasonings of experience, but not enough to make up for his basic shortcomings.

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Sallei does not last very long - within just a few weeks she has been murdered, though the culprit remains unknown. She is succeeded by her one-year-old son, yet another dwarf, Barion Tully. I had to check the details there more than once. Apparently, out of necessity, negligence, or optimism, Tyrion had arranged Sallei’s marriage as a traditional one, rather than matrilineal. House Lannister no longer holds the Westerlands, and I didn’t have to lift a finger!

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I may have been premature declaring Stannis' death the most momentous news of recent years. To the far north, the Night’s Watch has retaken Castle Black, but much of the wall remains in Wildling hands. Although they descended into infighting and Queen Gerra was murdered, her son Jarl the Handsome has bound them back together and is now marching on the remnants of the Night’s Watch. He is from what I have heard a terrifyingly brilliant man, the sort who only comes along once in an age, and there is no doubt he poses a tremendous threat to those of us south of the Wall. (Jesus smurf look at his stats. For reference, 10 is perfectly average competence for an adult. Varys had Intrigue of 35 and Aegon the Conquerer had Martial of 35. For someone to have these kinds of stats WITHOUT even having the Genius or Quick traits is mind-boggling. This guy is going to shove the Wall up the Realm’s butthole sideways.)

Well looks like Steffon didn't win the Game of Thrones. smurfing epic plotting, I absolutely love it. And yet there's parallels with one of my favourite things about the series - that nobody notices what is stirring elsewhere. Jarl is going to conquer the god damn north.

Tywin must be absolutely spinning in his grave. The Lannister name evaporated and a Dwarf Tully now rules the Westerlands. God damn xD

Also don't be harsh to Ned, he did want to put Rhaegar on the throne.

Ahahaha Ned Stark died peacefully in his sleep, what is this Bizarro-Westeros

Also Tyrion with a bunch of little dwarf daughters sounds adorable and I know that's a terrible thing to say but there it is.

The grandkids are mostly dwarfs as well so there's that.

And Paul, yeah, I wasn't really paying attention to anything because I was intensively plotting and trying to maneuver myself, then I happened to see some little notification about the Night's Watch and went to check things out and welp, we're all doomed.

Chapter 11: Outmaneuvered

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My younger son Aegor seems to be growing strange, believing that the nannies and maids are trying to hurt him or at least steal away his treats. At first I dismiss them as childish ramblings, but he persists in his beliefs. Is this the curse of the Targaryens? They say when a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath. In any event, he is my second son, not my firstborn and heir. I judge that getting him into regular education and all the trappings that come with it may help dissuade his notions, and after talking with Kennett we agree that Aegor should be trained in the art of numbers. It is not as noble as war, but no wars could be fought without the coin-counters and moneylenders.

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My nights of passion with Kennett are still regular and still greatly enjoyable. I am blessed to be with a fourth child! I am only thirty, and wonder just how many more I might bear before my body stops being able to bring children forth? My joy turns to ashes when the child is stillborn. We had planned to name him Aenar, but he never had the chance to live. I have little time for mourning or self-pity.

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I turn my attention back to the plot against King Gulian. We have spent months gathering evidence and now, with it in hand, we make a case that will show the world he is not the son of Steffon Baratheon. As many believe Steffon himself was not the son of Stannis, the harm done to the Baratheon line increases and few are taking Gulian seriously as King.

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If Aegor has been unlucky in the eyes of the gods, Visenya is the precise opposite. Not only is she already a beautiful child, as her lessons begin she is demonstrating astounding ability, already the equal of children twice her age. I believe she may outdo both myself and Kennett in time.

Attachment 54671

Speaking of my dear Kennett, he has worked hard to improve his abilities and, at a tourney held here in Sharp Point, demonstrates as much with a convincing victory. I applaud him and am deeply proud of this man I love.

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Before the tournament has fully finished a raven comes with news that Lord Paramount Renly Baratheon, last of the traitor brothers, has passed away of natural causes. His son Boremund assumes the Lord Paramountcy of the Stormlands. Some of us had recently identified Boremund’s son, also called Renly, as a weak link in the Baratheon chain and had intended to kill Boremund so Renly would ascend. We continue with the plot, with renewed caution.

My spymaster, Symond, has been murdered. According to his last letter to me he was investigating possible misdeeds on the part of one Ser Pandes Grammaton. Apparently he discovered precisely what he meant to and Ser Pandes was most displeased. I appoint my friend since childhood, Moelle, as new Master of Whisperers. She is not anything special in the field of intrigue, but competent enough, and which is more I trust her.

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News comes that has me in a fit of rage which even Kennett cannot calm me from. I send everyone away and destroy half my chambers in disgust. My plan has not had the desired results. Here I was eagerly awaiting the inevitable wars which would break out when Gulian proved too weak to hold the throne, when schemes in King’s Landing gave me his removal in an entirely peaceful way. I don’t know how he was persuaded, but he agreed to relinquish his hold on the Iron Throne in favor of Jonquil Baratheon, Renly’s middle child. She is a formidable speaker and diplomat, and has apparently used her charms to garner tremendous support for her appointment.

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And the nerve of that misbegotten Baratheon harlot! Just days into her reign she has sent ravens all around the Realm asking for the approval of her vassals, from Lords Paramount to the lowest barons, to lower the authority of the Iron Throne! This authority is mine, not hers! So that is how the bitch managed it - she traded away the power of the Iron Throne in exchange for the chance to sit upon it. Worse, this gains her favor with just about every Lord and Lady in the land, all eager to forge their own paths with less control from King’s Landing.

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With that single move my efforts to secure support for Jonquil’s assassination come to pieces. Few, if any, lords are now willing to move against her. In a single act she has ensured her popularity as well as done yet another injury to my house. Fine. I can still find a way. It may cost me dearly, but there are always people who can do this sort of job.

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Jonquil is granted the blessings of the High Septon (himself only in his role for a few days, after the last died of old age) and this further secures her rule. I do not know whether someone is actively opposing me or I am simply unlucky, but seeing my years of work undone by this bitch in her first few weeks as Queen is galling beyond my ability to bear.

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At a feast in some court whose Lord I forget, I am finally approached by a Faceless Man, one of the impossibly skilled assassins of Braavos. At first he seems just an ordinary reveler until he catches me alone for a moment and informs me, without ceremony, that I cannot afford his services. It is all I can do to retain my composure, and I soon excuse myself from the revelry under the guise of lightheadedness. I know I am not wealthy, but there are always other ways to pay. The Faceless Men have taken limbs, lives, children, and more as payments. I had hoped he would just cut off a hand.

I manage to remain calm at the feast, but make my excuses and leave soon. When I arrive back home in Sharp Point, I lock myself in my chambers and admit nobody, not even Kennett or the children, for over a day. I merely rage, cursing Jonquil’s name to any gods who may be listening; the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God, the Lord of Light, the Black Goat of Qohor, the Lion of the Night. At one point I pulled a book from the shelves to browse it for the gods they worship in The City of Winged Men, but found no reference to their faith. In time I calm down. I am a Targaryen. I am the Dragon incarnate. I will find a way and I will not be denied.

God damn this is intense. And you two are so fertile.

That bitch! :argh:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Quin

God damn this is intense. And you two are so fertile.

---

They're both Attractive, they're in love, and they're both from very prominent dynasties (which means the hidden fertility stats of their ancestors, and thus these descendants, are likely to be strong). I'm pretty sure they spend every moment of free time they get boning.

Bad luck with Jonquil. What a bitch. This is thoroughly interesting. I'm half keen to start one of my own.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mister Adequate

I'm pretty sure they spend every moment of free time they get boning.

---

Unlike two individuals we both know who spend every moment of free time together watching Netflix.

The Android Dynasty is weak.

Chapter 12: Shattered Kingdom

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Apparently not everyone is happy with Jonquil’s reign. Lady Paramount Elene Arryn is creating a faction to press for the return of Gulian to the Iron Throne. I doubt that she will find many allies though, Jonquil is a capable ruler who has secured her rule by granting greater powers to lords and ladies throughout Westeros. It will also, Gods be good, be an irrelevance soon enough.

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This is my final gambit for the time being. I can find no co-conspirators, I cannot persuade the Faceless Men to help me, so all that remains is to hire a regular assassin to do the work for me. It is exceedingly risky and I dither for a long, long time. But I can see no other options: Jonquil is younger than I am and hugely popular.

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By some blessing of the Gods, my man succeeds and, which is more, escapes alive. Jonquil is dead and nobody knows I was involved. Oh, I’m sure there will be suspicions, but who has proof? Thanks to Elene’s dislike of Jonquil, I’m certainly not the only one who may have done this, and I doubt anyone will believe I could have found the money needed to hire such a skilled killer anyway. It has drained the treasury empty, and I must be careful not to let knowledge of my debts spread, but the court estimates it will take just a few months to recover.

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Jonquil had three living children. Her eldest, a girl named Rohanne, and two sons, Matthos and Alaric. Alaric is not a Baratheon but an Allyrion, the product of Jonquil’s second marriage, agreed to long before anyone muttered about putting her on the throne. I immediately, and very carefully, set to work disposing of young Matthos. It may not necessarily benefit me directly, but it will pull the Baratheons off the Iron Throne for the first time in fifty years.

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With the backing of Magister Joss of Qohor and Lorath, Matthos’ regent and/or council has brought us into a war against the Eastern Republic of Norvos. Apparently Norvos had embargoed the Iron Throne, though for what reason I do not know. I applaud the war itself though. It will certainly cost Joss more harshly than us, and it would not do allow the Iron Throne to be pushed around by some upstart Essos republic.

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Kennett and Aelix have been working hard in the courtyard, training. Despite his malformation they have shaped him into a fighter of considerable skill.

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Success!! Poor Matthos took a tumble from the parapets of the Red Keep and splattered on the streets below. He died instantly. Alaric Allyrion becomes King on the Iron Throne. I may not have retaken the throne for House Targaryen yet, but I have removed the traitor House of Baratheon from that same throne. My revenge is not complete against them, but I am already greatly satisfied.

Shortly after taking the throne, the punishment of Qohor is completed and their embargo lifted.

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Finally, my plans have yielded the fruit I truly required. Lord Paramount Boremund II has roused the Stormlands and is marching to press his own claim on the Iron Throne. King Alaric has the allegiance of the Vale, the Westerlands, and unsurprisingly his ancestral homeland of Dorne. For the time being the North, the Reach, and the Riverlands have not taken sides. I instruct my Maester to gather every last scrap of information possible on the war. I do not know if I will find the opportunity I need, but if I do, the timing must be perfect.

To the North, the Night’s Watch has been all but destroyed. Jarl the Handsom, King Beyond the Wall, now seems to be King OF the Wall. I hear rumors that a small contingent of surviving Black Brothers is operating from one of their old ruined castles on the Wall, but even if this is true I see little that can be done. Surely the strike against The North must come soon.

It gives me no small amount of delight to report that the stresses of rule during a war seem to have taken their toll on King Alaric’s young mind. He has become paranoid that everyone is attempting to take his throne and convinced he speaks to some otherworldly spirit whose supposed identity I cannot discern. His regent, moreover, has used this as a cover to move against Lady Leona Rykker of Duskendale, accusing her of plotting against the throne and having her executed without trial. This has accrued a tremendous amount of dislike for Alaric, as lords and ladies now believe him to be a petty tyrant ruling Westeros as though it was his toybox.

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The war between the Iron Throne and the Stormlands has created an opportunity for the Riverlands. Lord Paramount Franklyn Tully has declared war on the Westerlands for the claim of some indeterminate Tully, instead of the dwarf descendant of Tyrion. This will certainly upset Casterly Rock. Unfortunately very shortly thereafter this woman, whoever she was, dies, so the claim is destroyed and the war ends before a battle had been fought.

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Timoth Toland, Lord of Ghost Hill down in Dorne, has produced some obviously fabricated evidence showing his supposed claim to my titles in Plankytown. I have had little use for Plankytown anyway, but I’ll be damned if I let it be taken from me without a fight. He can make the effort if he wishes.

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With obvious sadness in his eyes, my Maester comes to me one morning and reports that my mother has passed away during the night. A servant went to rouse her and discovered she had passed away. I had long since made my peace with her ill-conceived greedy plots, and this news breaks my heart. Daenerys Targaryen is gone, but she will never be forgotten.

RIP Ugly Dany ;_;7

Blimey, sitting on the Iron Throne is a death sentence. You're like House Baelish, a relatively minor (SORRY :shobon:) house building up a huge monarch body count!

Also I'm surprised Jarl has not done more yet! Have some female marry him! :love:

I've been keeping an eye on Jarl and it looks like his last war against the Night's Watch took its toll on his numbers, but he's getting close to full strength again so I imagine it's going to happen SOON.

Also my next update just needs the picture editing done and you'll see just how many monarchs the Targaryens have done away with :jess:

What is the purpose of the Monarch Ruling strategy? Is it either get a simpleton on the throne or have the line of succession have to go all the way back to some random bum Crabb that causes division and strife? Or both? :D

Both, but mostly the latter. Getting a useless troutlord on the Throne tends to spark rebellions anyway though, and a bad King means more potential for those under him to do stuff even if it doesn't devolve into civil war.

Also, because Targs always have claims on Westeros, it's possible that a really bad monarch would cause a faction demanding a Targ be installed as monarch instead to pop up. I'm not banking on this by any means, but if it happened it'd be pretty nice.

Being a Compendium of the Noteworthy Houses of Westeros in the 338th Year since Aegon’s Landing at the Mouth of the Blackwater.

The House Targaryen
"Fire and Blood"

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The descendants of Aegon the Conquerer and rulers of Westeros for almost three centuries, the rebellion of Robert Baratheon deposed them from both the Iron Throne and their ancestral seat of Dragonstone. Taking refuge in their sole remaining holding of Sharp Point, House Targaryen has served as mere counts to the Lords of Massey’s Hook. Their current head is Rhaella Targaryen, a lady who epitomizes all the foremost qualities which House Targaryen has long claimed. Now also Counts of Plankytown, in Dorne, the Lady Rhaella, wedded to Kennett Lannister, is known to be working hard to restore her family’s fortunes.

Issue: Prince Aelix, Prince Aegor, Princess Visenya

The House Martell
"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken"

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Dorne, as ever, remains in the hands of the Martells. This ancient house of Rhoynar descent is currently headed by Princess Janyce, a renowned beauty who has continued the Martell line with a significant number of children. Dorne remains secure, as well as loyal to the Iron Throne due to the presence of a Dornishman upon it. The region is currently fighting against Boremund Baratheon and his effort to set himself upon the Throne. Princess Janyce is wedded to Prince Trebor of the House Jordayne.

Issue: Prince Archibald, Princess Donyse, Prince Doran, Princess Carolei, Prince Alester, Prince Beldecar.

The House Tyrell
"Growing Strong"

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As Dorne is held by the Martells, so The Reach continues to be ruled by House Tyrell. The current head of the House is Lord Paramount Anslem Tyrell, who is wedded to Artaria Baratheon, daughter of the late King Stannis. The fertile lands of The Reach continue to prosper under the auspices of House Tyrell, and their refusal to become involved in the current war is preserving this wealth well.

Issue: Lord Reynard, Lord Aemon.

The House Baratheon
"Ours is the Fury"

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Once the closest allies of House Targaryen, in AL 282 Lord Paramount Robert Baratheon began an uprising against King Aerys II, popularly known as “The Mad King”. After two years of vicious warfare in which Robert himself was slain, the King was deposed and the Targaryens stripped of almost all their titles. Stannis Baratheon, younger brother of Robert, assumed the Kingship whilst conferring their ancestral Lord Paramouncy of The Stormlands upon the youngest of the three brothers, Renly. With the turmoil in King’s Landing following Stannis’ death in AL 332 and rapid succession of monarchs, Lord Paramount Boremund, son of Renly, has commenced a war to assume the Kingship. The late Queen Jonquil Baratheon was never intended for the Throne and thus her second marriage resulted in a Prince of another house.

Issue of Boremund: Lady Shireen, Lord Renly
Issue of Queen Jonquil: Princess Rohanne, King Alaric Allyrion

The House Allyrion
"No Foe May Pass"

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House Allyrion is of Dornish descent and due to usurpations and assassinations, they have come to occupy the Iron Throne. King Alaric Allyrion is a boy of eight who inherited the throne after the death of his brother, King Matthos Baratheon, who was killed by being pushed from the Red Keep and falling to the streets below. King Steffon ruled for forty-eight years; in the six years since his demise the Throne has seen fully five distinct Monarchs. The remainder of House Allyrion rules Vaith, in southern Dorne, and for this reason the Dornish have come to the aid of the Iron Throne during Boremund Baratheon’s rebellion. The stresses of rule have, it is reported, done great harm to King Alaric’s young mind. Should he also perish before an heir is born, the throne would currently pass back into the hands of the Baratheons, through his sister Princess Rohanne. Whether this would suffice to stay Lord Boremund’s wrath cannot be known.

Siblings of King Alaric: Princess Rohanne Baratheon

The House Tully
"Family, Duty, Honor."

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Longtime rulers of The Riverlands, with their capital at Riverrun, the Tullys have managed to attain a position of even greater power in recent years. The former Lords of the Westerlands, the Lannisters, were removed from the post when Lady Paramount Sallei was murdered by unknown assailants. Her marriage vows to Lord Hoster Tully resulted in her children, and the inheritors of Casterly Rock, being Tullys themselves. Thus, currently The Westerlands are ruled by Lord Paramount Barion Tully, whist The Riverlands are ruled by his grandfather Lord Paramount Franklyn Tully. Franklyn Tully is wedded to Lady Leana Stark. Franklyn has as yet not taken a side in Boremund’s Rebellion, but Lord Paramount Barion, under his regent and grandmother Orissa Tully, has taken the side of King Alaric.

Issue of Lord Paramount Franklyn: Lord Hoster, Lady Tyta (Deceased at 22), Lady Tyiah, Lord Franklyn, Lord Jonthor
Siblings of Lord Paramount Barion: Lady Bellena, Lady Tinessa

The House Arryn
"As High as Honor"

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House Arryn has maintained their rule on The Vale despite the murder of Lord Paramount Jasper at the age of nine, in the year AL 296. Now under the auspices of Lady Paramount Elene Arryn, married to Ser Harlen Footly, that rule seems destined to come to an end upon Lady Elene’s death. The Vale is currently participating in the war, fighting against Boremund Baratheon.

Issue: Irya Stone (Not eligible for succession), Lady Margaery Footly

The House Greyjoy
"We Do Not Sow"

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The Ironborn of House Greyjoy continue to rule the Iron Islands as they have since time immemorial. Their currently leader is Lord Paramount Harmund, a man who is scorned by some Ironborn for not meeting their usual standards of brutality. Nonetheless they continue to maintain a formidable fleet of ships and are feared across the seas of the known world. Lord Harmund has not yet brought the Iron Islands into the war, and this is a cause of some concern to the Westerlands, who fear their seaside holdings may be tempting targets to the men of salt. Lord Harmund is wedded to Lady Jonella Botley.

Issue: Lord Gylbert The Laughing Kraken, Lord Fralegg

The House Stark
"Winter is Coming"
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House Stark, scions of Brandon the Builder and the Wardens of the North, rose alongside Robert Baratheon against King Aerys. Their highly skilled and honorable leader, Lord Paramount Eddard Stark, was forced to abdicate his position in favor of his son Cellador, but permitted to live in peace in Winterfell. Cellador was murdered at the young age of 29, and succeeded by his son Lord Paramount Benfred, who is now ruler of The North at the tender age of eleven, though he is already regarded as a skilled swordsman and humble leader. Long known for their concerns about the threats beyond The Wall, House Stark has not brought The North into the war and are, instead, preparing for the inevitable invasion of the Wildlings.

Siblings of Lord Paramount Benfred: Lady Dacey, Lord Damon Stane, Lady Shyra Stane

The Wildlings
No Words

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There have long been reports of Wildling rulers attempting to unite the disparate, fueding tribes of the far north, but of late these attempts have succeeded in dramatic fashion. Lead first by Queen Gerra The Conquerer, then by her son King Jarl the Handsome, the Wildings of Beyond the Wall have become the Wildlings of the Wall. The Night’s Watch is crushed and the survivors, under Lord Commander Benfred Umber, take refuge in one of the abandoned castles along the Wall and attempt to harry the Wildlings whilst plotting to retake the Wall. Jarl, meanwhile, is believed to be building his strength and marshaling his forces with the aim of marching south.

Issue: Prince Dormund, Prince Cayn, Princess Pella

PRINCE ARCHIBALD FOR THE IRON THRONE

I only just now caught up, but this is great. You need to pick up your game, as so far all your plans have ended in tears and despair and dead bodies.

To be fair most of my plans have had the explicit objective of ending up with tears and despair and dead bodies.

I feel really bad for the Night's Watch. Maybe they should just align with the Wildlings since Westeros is full of pricks (present company excluded). Looking forward to the Dragon taming the Wildlings.

I may or may not get another update out tonight, but I've played through the next couple and it may interest you all to know that Events Have Occurred.

Chapter 13: Lord Boremund's War

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I knew this day would come. From the north come ravens: Jarl the Handsome and his wildling host are marching on the Realm. The Starks were wise to stay out of the war down here in the south, they will need every man if they are to resist the wildlings. It seems the words of the Starks have again proven true - winter has come. King Alaric has decreed that the Iron Throne will aid the North in this war.

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Lady Ravella comes to me with an intriguing proposition. She wishes to make me her Master of Whisperers. I accept this important position - all the more important because I immediately set about working in my interests. Lady Ravella is a decent enough liege, but she is known for her dishonor. Turnabout is, as they say in the Summer Isles, fair play. (They may not say that in the Summer Isles.)

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I have, through telling our children the stories of our house’s glorious past, sparked a fire in young Visenya. She speaks at length about how we must reclaim our honor and power, and swears she will stop at nothing to achieve this. I am heartened by this. It falls, as it so often does, to the women to get things done.

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Lady Ravella discloses that she seeks to dethrone King Alaric and force him to abdicate in favor of his sister, Rohanne. Rohanne is not only enormously more competent than her brother, she is also a Baratheon, and I do not intend to permit a Baratheon back onto the Iron Throne.

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Shocking news comes from the south. A raven from my holdings in Plankytown inform me that even there, in Dorne, winter’s grasp is making life difficult. People cannot work their farms, crops are freezing, and there is less food for the livestock. Although things are not yet critical, I shudder to think of the ferocity of a winter so severe that Dorne can feel its bite.

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Suddenly, I face a dilemma. Kennett has come to me and spoken of his desire to hold lands of his own. I do not know where this has come from, but I can hardly grant him Plankytown. House Targaryen does not have the lands to distribute them to others. Although he is disappointed by my decision, he seems to accept it and move on.

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The Riverlands have been drawn into the war against Boremund. I hardly relish the thought of fighting for the false King Alaric, but I relish the idea of a Baratheon reclamation of the Iron Throne even less. I therefore command the troops in Sharp Point be raised, and have them placed under Kennett’s command, with instructions to fight only where we can make a difference. As Kennett is barely underway, Lord Rolland of Kingswood declares his allegiance to Boremund. Apparently the Lords of the Crownlands are loathe to support King Alaric. I pray that Lady Ravella does not make the same choice, as I will not fight for the Baratheons. Worse, Boremund would be a far more competent ruler than the current King, and will be much harder to interfere with. As they march away from the castle I get word that the Tullies of Riverrun have agreed to fight in defense of King Alaric, and their soldiers will no doubt be welcome.

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As the time comes for Aelix to become a suitor, I announce that he and his sister Visenya are to be wedded. With another male heir the Targaryen line will be safe, and I am glad to be able to preserve the old traditions. Moreover, Visenya is a brilliant gem of a young lady and will be his greatest ally when he becomes ruler.

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To my shock, Jarl’s army has been beaten back. A great host of Northmen assembled and met the Wildlings in battle just south of Mole’s Town, all but wiping them out. Jarl was forced to retreat with the battered remnants of his force. Whether he can hold together his Kingdom remains to be seen, but the Night’s Watch have managed to retake Mole’s Town in the chaos.

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After fighting some skirmishes, Kennett sends word that he has joined with a Tully army and fought a large battle in Felwood. Although our contribution was modest, the battle was decisive. Since the Riverlanders recently joined the war the tide has turned, and Boremund’s advances have been reversed.

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Suddenly, yet another threat arises: From Essos, the Free Cities of Myr and Pentos have joined forces to mount a massive slave raid upon the Crownlands. Some twenty thousand Easterners have landed at the base of Massey’s Hook, with five thousand marching north towards Sharp Point. Kennett has no way to get past them and reach my castle, and the Crown does not have the forces to repel them. I therefore have to do something I am very much reluctant to do: I must open the vaults and spend the money I have spent years amassing. I have long been planning to use mercenaries to retake the Throne. Instead I must use them to defend it. I hire the Second Sons, a band of Dornish Spearmen, and the three thousand soldiers of the Company of the Cat, the largest mercenary company I know of. I expect this will drain the three hundred gold dragons left in the treasury in just a few months, but I have little choice. I will not allow these foppish Eastern slavers to take my people!

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The battle is joined. I had hoped to have much longer for my soldiers to organize themselves and prepare, as their journeys were long. The week they did get will have to suffice. They are attacked by a larger force of Pentoshi and we lose, badly. My men just do not have the time to get organized and disposed for a fight, and Kennett’s army is trapped in the Kingswood, on the far side of Myr’s forces.

I order everyone to stand down. The mercenaries melt away, whilst my own forces try to sneak piecemeal through the Essos lines. Barely half make it back to Sharp Point, but I immediately put them to work manning the walls and have Kennett drill any man who can hold a spear whilst I have my castellan work on shoring up the walls. Fortunately, they seemed only interested in disposing of my army before it could become a threat to them - with my men disbanded they seem more interested in the rest of the region than the poor territory of Sharp Point. Perhaps Alaric will capitulate before I must face them at my own walls.

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Of course, the very day I give voice to that hope, I am brought news that around five thousand, five hundred Pentoshi soldiers are marching towards Sharp Point. They arrive and set up a siege in short order. A raven flits between their arrows shortly after the siege has begun and tells me that Lady Ravella has died of an illness - no doubt one brought on by the stresses of war and of winter. Her son Wallace Staunton is now Lord of Massey’s Hook. I have another idea and immediately pen a letter and send a raven.

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The High Septon grants my request for a claim on Massey’s Hook. The letter he sends this in is not shy about sharing his real opinions of me. Presumably he wishes to warn me that I am under scrutiny even if he cannot justify rejecting my petition at this time. Perhaps the Gods have shared knowledge of my sins with him, for otherwise there is little reason for it. In any event, the granting of this claim changes everything. When the Essosi finally leave these shores, I will be able to make new, much greater efforts.

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That Maester nearly got a punch for his laughter. Whilst I was touring the walls and seeking to ensure the soldiers’ morale, a volley of arrows came my way. I avoided serious injury, but one grazed my cheek and opened an ugly wound. Far worse than it looks, but Kennett insisted that I have it seen to. The pain of the treatment was worse than the injury! Fortunately, a few days later the Pentoshi lift the siege and march south. I do not know what their objectives are, but the reprieve is deeply welcomed by all.

Ah, that would be why: A huge army from the Riverlands has engaged the invasion force a way to the south. They left to fight this force. It gives me hope though, for it is a large force, and even if the Myrish win they will be much depleted. As it happens, they lose, and lose badly. Half their force is slaughtered before they manage to escape. Less fortunately for me, the Riverlanders have little time to pursue. Lord Paramount Boremund has regained much while the Iron Throne has been distracted by the Wildlings and the invasion from Essos, and these gains must be undone or he could threaten King’s Landing soon.

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To my surprise, those gains are indeed undone, and very rapidly at that. Lord Boremund is defeated. After five years of war, he and Alaric have agreed to a white peace. Both sides keep what they had when the war began. Technically speaking, Boremund should not be punished, but that is a rule that rarely holds in the aftermath of such events. The Dornish had regrouped and, together with the Riverlanders, smashed a huge Baratheon army. Though he could have recuperated and continued fighting, he is also facing the host of his own sister Ravella, who has formed a large group of adventurers and sellswords in an effort to take the Stormlands for herself. Presumably he judged that he could not fight both her and the King at once

The Lysene have joined the great Slave Raid upon us, but the end of Boremund’s war has allowed Westeros’ forces to turn their attentions to this external threat. I only hope they can recover their numbers and march to the area soon, because my depleted armies can’t resist them for long.

Events Have Occurred. What rotten luck that you were the target for that.

Chapter 14: The Dragon Ascendant

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The war is not yet won, but we have earned some peace here in Sharp Point. As both are now of age, I therefore decide it would be good for the morale of all if the wedding of Aelix and Visenya took place now. I order a wedding and feast to be prepared. In the midst of war and winter, this will be a welcome moment of levity for us all. Given that we are celebrating the close of the wars and a new marriage, I opt to spend lavishly on the affair.

The wedding is a great success, and the bedding at the end of it took place without a hitch, as far as I know. Aelix has sadly not gained many skills outside of his flair with the sword, but he is not shockingly incompetent either. With Visenya at his side, he should be okay.

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Finally, after over four years of war, the great Essosi Slave Raid on Westeros has been repelled. A white peace has been signed and the Pentoshi, Myrish, and Lysene slink back home in disgrace. We have little hope of recovering those who were enslaved by them during their long raids, but I shall be sure to punish the Free Cities when I am Queen.

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With the end of the war and a short period of recovery the time has come. I call my bannermen up and declare war on Lord Wallace Massey of Massey’s Hook. I could attempt to force him through intrigue, but who knows how long that might take? No, the time has come to begin demonstrating House Targaryen’s power, to remind people that we are not gone and that we will take what is ours with fire and blood.

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I am able to raise 1270 men in Sharp Point and another 1140 in Plankytown. Marching from Dorne would take them months, so I hire a sellsail fleet to perform transport duties. I know Lord Massey can muster perhaps three thousand men, so we are outnumbered, but it is a surmountable opposition with the aid of mercenaries. I hire two companies and bolster my numbers in Sharp Point to almost 2600 soldiers, which should be sufficient until the men from Plankytown arrive. I estimate that I have two possible strategies here: The first is to remain on the defensive until my reinforcements arrive and then strike back; the second is to strike now at Wallace’s soldiers before he can form a single force from his holdings. I recall the old texts which recommend striking fast and striking hard. Giving the enemy the time he needs to organize his forces is giving him an advantage.

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I order the soldiers south towards Stonedance, myself in the vanguard, Kennett leading the left flank, and a mercenary leader on the right. The mercenary leader is a curious chap, Riverlander in accent and manners, clearly Westerosi in appearance, but named of Hrazeffner, which I take to be a name from Slaver’s Bay. In any event the man has clear knowledge of his trade. I have instructed my half-brother Jacaerys to oversee the army in Plankytown and ensure their safe transit north. We shall arrive in Stonedance long before their forces can join, and we will outnumber those we find there. Unless we are particularly unlucky, we should soon rout them.

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The battle is joined! To my surprise Wallace Massey is missing a flank, a bizarre oversight which I mean to take full advantage of. It does not last long thanks to this, and we kill ten times more than we lose. I had hoped for a solid showing; I had not dared to dream of such a crushing victory. Half of Lord Massey’s army is now destroyed and a third of his remaining forces are retreating in disarray.

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After the battle I am brought news that King Alaric has declared a war upon the Vale, seeking to… take the province of Wickenden for Adela Waxley. What Waxley has done to win Alaric’s favor remains a mystery, but I’m nonetheless pleased as it means his attention will be directed somewhere other than his feuding vassals. It is preposterous that he would war against a Lady Paramount over such a small territory, anything less than King’s Landing, Highgarden, or Harrenhal would hardly be worth it, but if he wants to spend his treasure and blood on this venture he is free to do so. It will make my task far easier. What follows a couple of days later is a tremendous surprise and will do much more to make my task easier.

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King Alaric wishes me to join his Small Council as Master of Laws. Unlike similar positions I have held before this is not only prestigious, but a tremendously powerful role. In purely legal terms I will be one of the most powerful people in the realm, although how effective that power is depends on any number of factors only some of which are within my control. I, of course, immediately accept. I have no desire to openly antagonize King Alaric currently, and if he wishes to name me Master of Laws he evidently has little issue with my assault on Lord Wallace. More importantly the position will give me tremendous opportunity within the Red Keep. Not only will I be in charge of the gaols and dungeons, but I will have great influence over the City Watch and Goldcloaks, influence on the Small Council, and possibly the ear of the King. All can be turned to my advantage.

I inform Alaric that I will gladly take the position he has offered me, and that I shall ride to King’s Landing as soon as my war is done. Turning back from that particular concern I order my men to march. We outnumber the enemy considerably and we have reinforcements coming. Better to settle this on the field than being forced into long sieges.

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Just hours before we join battle, I am brought a message from Sharp Point. I worry for a moment as the messengers seems most urgent, but the news is wonderful: I have a granddaughter! Apparently the bedding ceremony went well indeed, for Visenya has had a child by Aelix, a girl whom they have named Rhaenys. I approach the battle with joy in my heart, and we again win, routing the Massey army a second time. They retreat south, towards Haystack Hall, and we again give chase. I estimate that it will not take much more to break their will and force a surrender.

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It takes less than I expect. We manage, during the fight, to capture Lord Wallace himself. This solves everything. I have him brought to my command tent and accept his surrender on the spot; Kennett stood beside him and glowered in a most intimidating fashion, his hand on the pommel of his sword.

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For the first time in sixty long years, House Targaryen has risen again in stature, prestige, and in power. I am now Lady Rhaella of Massey’s Hook, not merely Sharp Point. My vassals are Lord Wallace, who remains in my dungeon, and Lord Jaremy Wendwater, a personal friend who I trust greatly. I ponder the long-term fate of the area briefly, but I must wait for a higher position than this before I can distribute it.

Since the time of Aegon, the Crownlands have not had a Lord Paramount, but have answered directly to the King or Queen. I am greatly empowered by being directly beneath the King. Most of my options until now were curtailed as another Lord sat between myself and him, due to the legal considerations that position creates. As Master of Laws and Lady in my own right, the possibilities have opened up dramatically.

Looks like the tide has turned. Incidentally why don't the Targaryens still use their three headed dragon sigil? You have some bizarre checkerboard with a fish on it?

>Rhaella declares war on liege
>Rhaella is offered Master of Laws position by the King

Alaric sure knows how to pick the most loyal subjects. :p

This is exciting. You've been plotting and scheming (and dying) for a while, but this may be a turning point in the Targaryen quest.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Psychotic

Looks like the tide has turned. Incidentally why don't the Targaryens still use their three headed dragon sigil? You have some bizarre checkerboard with a fish on it?

---

Ah, the one you're seeing is the crest of your primary holding, that changes whenever your primary holding is changed. The family sigil is still the same, we just tend not to see screens where that crops up all that much.

Also you people have no idea what is coming in the next couple of updates.

Chapter 15: Targaryens, Rulers of the Vale

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When we return to Sharp Point there is jubilation in the air. The invasions have been repelled and I have ascended in power. I immediately order that a feast be held, both to shore up my standing and to help forge connections I previously could not aim at. My second order is to ransom Lord Wallace for seventy gold coins; a sizable sum, but one he can meet. He has done me no particular harm aside from resisting, and anyway I need the money. This will do as a compromise between mercy and profit.

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Apparently, Aelix has been indiscreet. One of the courtiers, Unella Arrecstone, has given birth to a daughter widely believed to be his. I cannot fathom what she offers him that Visenya could not, but I have no time to worry myself about this bastard girl for the time being.

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The feast was a huge success, and I hear tell that talk of it is spreading far and wide. It was the very paragon of a noble feast, with grand dishes and superb wine, skilled musicians and entertainers who were, believe it or not, truly funny.

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In trying to train Aegor and turn him into a more formidable knight, there has been an accident. Although I warned him that the next sparring bout would be a serious one, he did not display the needed attention or discipline. The result was that one of my strikes knocked his sword from his hand and carried on to cut him across the face. Not a serious wound, but it will leave a scar. Perhaps it will impress upon him the importance of taking his training more seriously, too.

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When diplomacy fails and force cannot be used, a few coins in the right place can make the difference. I bribe Septon Jarmon of the Iron Throne and secure his loyalty, at least for the time being. More important than being Septon is that he is Alaric’s Master of Whisperers. Short of getting that role for myself, bribing the man who holds it is as good an amount of control as I can expect.

I have awarded Lord Wallace the title of High Almoner. It’s something of a sinecure, but then sinecures exist for good reason, and I hope between my mercy and my favor I will dissolve any notion he might have of rebellion. Likely he would be no threat, but it could be inconvenient nonetheless.

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It would be prudent to do something, one way or another, about the newborn heir to the throne, Prince Trebor. Still, it may be imprudent to simply dispose of him, and at the same time I do not wish to risk reducing my position as Master of Laws if a regent changes the Small Council. Another method might prove valuable.

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By the Old Gods and the New, Winter is coming to an end! I had forgotten that such a thing could occur. This winter has lasted eight or nine years now, and it has affected most of the world. Nevermind Dorne, I have read reports saying that Volantis, Yunkai, Qarth, even Asshai have been locked in the grip of winter these past years. This is supported by the ever-increasing prices of food imports from foreign lands. The North has been all but paralyzed since putting down Jarl’s invasion, frozen in a winter of unmatched harshness. Fortunately, that harshness has remained north of The Twins. Times here are hard, but just about endurable. They say there hasn’t been a winter like it in over a hundred years, and I am not inclined to disagree. It will be good to feel the warmth of spring and summer once again.

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My plot has gone off without a hitch. Whilst being taken to a retreat in order to recuperate from some illness or another, the infant Prince Trebor is kidnapped and bundled away to my dungeon. Alaric has no idea it was me.

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It seems that my son has taken a page from my own book. Entirely without my knowledge he has gathered the evidence and support needed to convince many lords and ladies that Alaric is no trueborn son at all, and much of the realm considers him a bastard. How many bastards does that make on the Throne now? Three? Four? I’ve lost count. I think since Stannis died, only Jonquil has been believed to be trueborn.

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The Maesters were right. Winter has finally, finally lifted here in Sharp Point, and the peasants can get back to proper farming instead of the hardscrabble work to survive they had grown used to. I pray that we are granted a summer at least as long as the winter which has just passed.

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Oh. Well. This is unfortunate. Young Lord Trebor has died in my dungeons. The illness, whatever it was, claimed his life. Perhaps I should have let him continue to his destination? No great loss, if truth be told. Alaric recently had a daughter, and the confusion about Trebor’s disappearance combined with the prospects of a female heir have sewn yet more discord in the royal court. With the war with The Vale coming to a close, the time for my advancement may be almost at hand.

Joyous news! Aelix and Visenya have had a son. He will be second in line to the throne after Aelix himself, and this security is welcome. I am also pleased by the fact that it was Visenya, and not some harlot courtier, who bore Aelix this child. The child is named Baelor.

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The Vale is now defeated, her armies broken. All over a single holding. For the first time in over ten years the Realm is at peace, and I may be the one to shatter that peace soon enough. It is a heavy burden, but only the Targaryens can save Westeros from its many enemies within and without. More pressing is the fact that, now that we are again at peace with The Vale, Lady Paramount Margaery is eligible for betrothal. As my son Aegor has no wife, and has indeed brought the matter up with me, I am eager to propose this betrothal.

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A short while later a raven returns from The Eyrie: Acceptance. Aegor will become a powerful man in The Vale and, one day, his children - Targaryens - will become rulers of The Vale.

oooooooOOOOH IT'S HAPPENING

Trebor is just Robert backwards! :colbert:

Chapter 16: Matters of Some Consequence

The time is almost at hand. The Reach is concerned with some internal squabble and the North reeling from Jarl’s renewed attack, with Mole’s Town changing hands yet again. I have gathered the support of numerous lords including, most significantly, Lord Paramount Harmund of the Iron Islands and the High Septon. Given the High Septon’s frosty attitude towards me I can only assume that he either sees my ascent as inevitable, and wishes to be in House Targaryen’s good graces, or that he expects his support will earn him a measure of control over me.

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Precisely as I am readying myself for the trial ahead, a raven brings news that shatters my plans. Apparently, Anslem Tyrell has taken the opportunity of the recent wars and the cover of some internal dispute to proclaim The Reach an independent Kingdom once again, and he now seeks to install Tya Lannister in the Westerlands. Presumably he has proposed restoring their house in exchange for their support, though whether he seeks to rule the Westerlands indirectly or to simply create another independent power I cannot say. It hardly matters. I cannot allow the Kingdom to break, and so I answer the King’s call to arms.

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And then I send my message anyway. I can always put the Seven Kingdoms back together, but the chance to take my throne, that is a rare opportunity. The chaos of war is the perfect time to do just that. I send the letter, knowing the only reply will be an attempt to arrest me, because such are the forms we must observe.

I am stunned into silence by the reply.

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He accepted.

I can only suppose that the long task of ruling a kingdom torn apart by over ten years of war has grown too much for him.

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The consequences are dramatic and immediate. Lord Anslem has recalled his troops to The Reach, presumably because he fears a Targaryen far more than an Allyrion. Aside from this, the realm is actually at peace, on the surface. I then demand control of King’s Landing from Alaric, who was clearly upset by all he has surrendered, but complied nonetheless. As I stride into the Red Keep, the first Targaryen to do so as ruler since Rhaegar offered his surrender to Stannis Baratheon sixty years ago, I see the place in a new light.

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There is so much work to do, and so little time to do it. My first task is to establish my Small Council. In fact I bring my previous council from Sharp Point with me, for I have assembled advisers who are competent and trusted. I will, when peace is secured, review this once again - it will not do for long to deny Lords and Ladies Paramount positions in this body - but for the time being I need competence from trusted people. The only significant change is to assign Franklyn Tully to be Master of Laws, a position he will be good in. I also assign Kennett to be Commander of the Goldcloaks. I need them to be a fine and loyal force, and I can think of nobody more appropriate for this than my dear lion. Imagine it: Tywin Lannister’s goal was always to take control of the Iron Throne, and now if there is one person in this world whose advice I take to heart, it is my Lannister husband.

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The High Septon agrees to Crown me Queen. I am not surprised by this, as he did after all support my reclamation of the Iron Throne. I am however saddened to learn that a cabal of Crownlander lords are refusing to attend. This is a grave insult but, I perceive, also a warning - it was their support which won me this throne bloodlessly, and their support could as easily topple me once again.

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My much bigger concern, however, is The Reach. After The North, the homeland of the Tyrells is the largest of the Seven Kingdoms, but it is infinitely richer and more valuable. If I allow The Reach to retain independence for long my rule will be weakened, perhaps fatally so. It would be of little use for House Targaryen to regain the Iron Throne and then find ourselves in control of just the Crownlands. But before I consider how best to act towards The Reach, my Coronation draws near.

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I have ensured that it is a lavish, opulent affair. The people have suffered under years of war and I may soon ask it of them once again. I have no desire to see the smallfolk suffer, and it is vital that they see the rumors of the old “Mad King” are false, and that a Targaryen is the best - the only - ruler for them. So it is that the High Septon officially crowns me Queen Rhaella Targaryen, First of My Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. In AL 284 the Targaryens were deposed. It is now AL 347 and at the age of 43 I have taken the Iron Throne, restoring the Targaryen dynasty to our rightful position.

:eek:

So that just... happened.

After all that he just... quit? xD

Yep. Just handed me the keys to the kingdom.

I was as shocked as you, because I've been playing this game since release day and this is the second time I've ever seen the "Install Claimant" demand be accepted instead of resulting in a civil war.

Long live the Queen I guess. Wow.

What. The. smurf.

Most anti-climactic coup ever. Alaric, you wuss! Wtf are you doing just giving up on simple demand? Such a loser king was bound to collapse anyway.

The real question is: can the Targaryens hold the throne this time?

Chapter 17: Retaking The Reach

There is still so much to do. For example, my Queensguard: I ask the seven who wear white to assemble in the Red Keep so I may review them and introduce myself formally, though I have met them all at one time or another since my ascension.

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My Lord Commander is Ser Fredrec Ashford, forty-three years of age, and an extraordinary fighter. He bears the scars of past battles and is, by all accounts, a righteous and pleasant man. My other six Queensguard are;
Ser Balman of Wendbridge
Ser Malcolm of Edgerton
Ser Porther of Bitesmouth Town
Ser Dobber Brych
Ser Phillip of Harvest Hall
Ser Karyl of Old Beehive

It is of both note and interest that none of these men originate from the most pre-eminent of Westeros’ houses. No relatives of a Lord or Lady Paramount here. This suits me well, as it ensures the likelihood of conflicting loyalties are reduced, and the convention of serving until death means I am not under pressure to appease rival Lords with my appointments. Moreover, with the exceptions of Ser Balman and Ser Porther, all my men are extremely competent fighters. And I can forgive Ser Porther as he is seventy-five years of age.

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(As an aside, I took a look around to see if any characters of importance in ASoIAF/GoT were still around, and I actually found one! Brienne of Tarth, of all people, is still around and still, at 67, a decent commander. There are also a handful of other insignificants around, I think a few of Walder Frey’s irrelevant grandkids are still alive, some Tyrell chap who was mentioned like once in the books, stuff like that.)

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The time for our unification has come. I will not allow the Tyrells any more time to gather their forces or to get used to their ‘independence’. I send the ravens out to my bannermen and inform them that we are marching to war to retake The Reach.

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I order my armies to gather in King’s Landing. I have some 48,000 men under my direct command, with many thousands more from my vassals. Dorne and The Westerlands have immediately answered my call to arms, which is especially pleasing as they are two of the three Lord Paramountcies which border The Reach. I suspect Boremund will prevaricate, perhaps even defy me, but I believe I have enough to secure myself against him. Soon after The Riverlands and The North both join as well; they are more distant, but it is not unwelcome.

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With around 25,000 men assembled so far in King’s Landing, I decide it will be enough to ride out to assail The Reach. Too large an army will have trouble staying supplied and fed, and this should be plenty given the fact that The Reach’s armies are spread across their entire border. I shall ride in the vanguard myself, for I know how important it is that men see their leader is fearless, even if a woman. Kennett leads my right flank and Ser Karyl on the left. He voiced his disapproval of being charged with a duty other than the Royal Family’s protection, but I am well protected by the others, whilst his skills in war are rare indeed. We march for Tumbleton, just across the border.

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There are some murmurings that Ser Fredrec cannot be trusted, as his family is from The Reach, but I have little reason to credit those notions. Ser Fredrec has been nothing but loyal and diligent, and he seems to have no ambitions except serving. I cannot afford to dispel the Lord Commander without some extremely solid evidence, anyway. I recall reading of the disasters that resulted from Aerys' treatment of Jaime Lannister, and it's a pitfall I fully intend to avoid.

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Another 21,000 men are assembled in King’s Landing. I place this army under the command of my half-brother Jacaerys, who is no slouch in martial matters, whilst giving the flanks to my friend Clayton Massey and my one-time liege Wallace Staunton. I instruct this army to ensure the security of the Crownlands, with the mission of engaging marauding Reachmen such as those currently besieging Edgerton, just north of King’s Landing.

Attachment 55947

That army is caught and destroyed in Rollingford. Their attempted retreat to The Reach was cut off and they were cut down. It is a modest victory, but nonetheless a good start to our war.

Suddenly, my bannermen are thrown into a panic - a huge Reachman force has appeared and rapidly marched towards us! My 21,000 men in Tumbleton are attacked by a Reachman army of nearly 30,000. I send a message for reinforcements immediately, and we join battle.

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Despite our inferior numbers the battle goes well - we clearly have superior leadership. During the melee I am dismounted and, on foot, fighting through several peasant levies, I come across a mercenary leader holding back several of my men. Captain Alaric - no relation - is quickly cut down by my blade. I’ve seen many men hesitate when they see a beautiful woman fighting them, and it’s something I gladly take advantage of. Shortly after killing him I am found by Ser Dobber and Ser Malcolm, who escort me away from the thickest fighting over my protestations. As we reach the rear ranks I am overjoyed to see my reinforcements have arrived and are already joining the battle. We now outnumber the Reachmen almost two to one.

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We win the fight handily, driving the ten thousand survivors away from the Crownlands, but minutes after the fighting stops a young squire comes to me with a look of despair. He is terrified of my presence, but I assure him there is nothing to fear - he relates that in the closing minutes of the melee, my subject and friend Clayton Massey was struck down by Lord Arys of Leygood Keep. I command the boy take me to his body, and he does so. The man is lying in a pool of blood, his armor smeared with it, and with two great wounds carved into his flesh. One of them, on his left arm, would have been survivable, but the other was in his throat, and he must have died within seconds. I close my eyes for a moment and breathe a prayer, then I thank the squire for his efforts finding me and return to my command tent.

It is no good to be upset by this. This is war; people die in war. Thirty thousand people died in the battle that just ended; it would be churlish of me to think the loss of my friend is worse than the losses of all those families. Fathers, husbands, sons, never to return home. In my tent my mind wanders, and I imagine what it must be like, what it would be like if I was brought news that my own sons had died. But that is why I must fight, and why I must win - only the Targaryens can keep Westeros safe and at peace.

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The wedding of my son Aegor and Lady Paramount Margaery Footly is to take place soon, and it seems I cannot attend due to the war. Nonetheless I send my best wishes, though not a request for dowry. It would not do to make our house seem in need of money.

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A few days later, a raven comes from the Northman army that had been assembling at King’s Landing. Jarl is at it again. The North has been forced to recall its men from here in the south, a decision I bless. It hardly matters down here, as I have large armies from Dorne, The Westerlands, and The Riverlands all assisting us and The Reach is faltering. It seems that no matter how many times we beat him back, Jarl the Handsome finds a way to hang on and recover his forces.

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In the midst of war, serving a Queen who took the throne through rather underhanded means, Ser Phillip of Harvest Hall has died of old age. I shall soon have to find a new Queensguard, seemingly sooner than I had hoped, in fact. It is also pointed out that it would be proper to have a member of the Queensguard serving in The Eyrie, protecting my son and daughter-in-law. After some consideration I dispatch Malcolm Edgerton. He’s a super fighter and still young.

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After less than a year of war the armies of The Reach are crushed. They are under assault from all directions except the coast, and I imagine the fear of Ironborn raiders must loom large for Anslem Tyrell. Dorne, The Crownlands, The Westerlands, and The Riverlands are all invading and the enemy’s numbers have been brought down to just a few bands of marauders. One of their major lords, Ben Florent, has taken my side as well. Combined, The Reach’s remaining forces could perhaps challenge Ben Florent’s small army, but none of the larger ones. The inevitable must be as obvious to Anslem Tyrell, for he requests my terms.

Attachment 55954

They are simple. He is to disavow all claims to Kingship and to revert to Lord Paramount of The Reach. He will swear fealty to myself, to my house, and to the Iron Throne. He does these things, though I cannot say I am entirely satisfied, but their loyalty to Aerys II is not unforgotten.

Days after returning to King’s Landing, with the many surviving troops returning to their own respective homes, I am brought a message by Grand Maester Quellon. I have never seen such a look on his face, but when I unfurl the parchment and read the message, I share his look of shock.

Attachment 55955

King Jarl has taken the North.

COCKLEWHENT!

And hey you did warn everyone that Jarl was up to mischief!

​the entire North

Apologies, I had meant to get this up a couple of days ago, but it got away from me. :shobon:

---

Chapter 18: Catching Our Breath

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With the victory over The Reach the time has come for me to choose a new member for my Queensguard. This is often a more political decision than it should be. Appointments have been made in order to both weaken a house or to strengthen one, depending on circumstances. In my case appointing a son from a significant house would be a benefit at the current time, as it would help cement relations with them. However, I can currently find none who are both worthy fighters and members of the most important houses. We agree to continue the search.

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Now that we are recovering from the war with The Reach I summon Lord Jacaerys Targaryen, my half-brother, to my throne. I do not believe he or many other people are expecting my next act, which is is to confer the Lordship of Massey’s Hook upon him. He has been a loyal and stalwart member of the house, has led armies, and slain enemies. It is high time his loyalty and talent was properly rewarded. I further name him a member of my Small Council, though with no distinct area he is master of. This is more than just a reward for him, though. His judgment is generally sound and valued.

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As I am directing the expansion of the town around King’s Landing, a place which has fallen into disrepair since Stannis’ death, I am brought word that my Grand Maester Quellon Kellington has passed away. He was born when a Targaryen was last on the throne and had, on occasion, mentioned his distant childhood memories of the Baratheon war. It is sad that he has departed this life, but I can do nothing except await a new Maester from The Citadel.

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Soon enough Qarlton Buckwell arrives from The Citadel, my new Grand Maester. He is a learned and seemingly kind man, and has incurred a vicious scar in some past conflict he will not speak of.

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I am busy overseeing the training of new men for the war against The North. The Realm as a whole would have enough to fight, but the war with The Reach depleted the fighting men of King’s Landing. It would not do to send the army out if I am either unwilling or unable to lead it, so I have commanded Kennett as well as my household guard to help train new recruits. We shall strike soon, but not quite yet.

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After much consideration I have decided to restore Plankytown to Dornish rule. The location was distant and its troops took far too long to reach us here in the Crownlands, whilst the income from taxes was insignificant compared to the taxes a Queen can levy. Furthermore the passing of the holding out of Dornish hands was a source of shame and dishonor upon Princess Janyce, so she was deeply grateful when I agreed to restore the territory to her control, and whilst I would not go so far as to say it has ensured Dorne’s loyalty, it is definitely a positive that strengthens our relations.

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The gods, it seems, are not pleased with Westeros at this moment. This summer is coming to an end. It was all too brief; we had barely enough time to begin replenishing our stocks of grain. If this winter is like the last, many people will not see it through, and they will not all be peasants.

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After weeks of searching I have given up on finding a prominent house with a competent third son or distant cousin. The Queensguard must be filled before much longer. Therefore I request that Ser Martyn Yarwick serve. He is young, only 17, but a large lad and highly skilled with a sword. He insults me and the Throne by declining my offer! I am enraged by this, but simply thank him for his reply and send him away.

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After further searching I find a man named Rawney Rivers, a bastard son of a common woman who never revealed his father. He is a hardworking, kind, brave soul who has won moderate fame in tournaments (I think I saw him once at a tourney when I was younger, in fact). Despite being of advanced years, has lost none of his skill with a sword.

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I decide that in preparation for the war to free The North, it is time to undo the damage Jonquil Baratheon did when she agreed to reduce the authority of the Crown. I send ravens out to every lord in the land, asking for their blessing to restore the true power of the throne now that a Targaryen has returned to it. The legal precedents dating back to Aegon himself mean even I, a Queen, cannot simply declare this law changed. How ironic.

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Another son is born to Aegor and Visenya! They name him Aerys. I wonder what people will make of it, but for my part I approve - the upstarts and usurpers will never again throw the Targaryens from the Iron Throne, and it does no harm to remind them that removing Aerys II was not enough, that nothing they could do would ever be enough.

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Thinking constantly about The North is wearing my nerves away. I think of little else these days, little except the lands beyond The Twins. For years beyond counting The Wall held back the Wildlings, and now - just as a Targaryen retook the throne - it has fallen and the entire North has been overrun. We get little enough news from there, but what we hear suggests Jarl is working hard to establish his rule and bring the Northmen to his side, so after an initial flourish of violence it has not been as brutal in The North as it might have been.

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Speaking of Wildlings, an unexpected message comes to me from Volantis. Triarch Aelix Paenymion has begged for my help in a war that has been started against him. Some investigation yields intriguing information: A wildling man named Halys, once a slave in Lys, led a successful slave revolt there and installed himself as Lord of Lys. He has developed a tremendous hatred of slavery and launched a war against Volantis to force them to emancipate theirs. This puts me in a delicate situation.

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I cannot imagine that Lys, fresh from a bloody revolt, could beat Volantis and her Essosi allies. On the other hand the great Essosi Slave Raid created a rather strong dislike of both the Free Cities and their slaving ways in myself and the kingdom at large. I do not, however, see that the Iron Throne could profit either materially or in a more ephemeral sense from getting involved in this war, so I ultimately decline to aid Volantis. We have concerns rather closer to home.

Back at home, with the preparations for the war almost complete, I attend the wedding of Jacaerys to young Elene Waynwood. I had learned on the way that Jacaerys has decided to restore the Lordship of Massey's Hook to Wallace Staunton, and he confirms this when I arrive. I am disappointed, but I can see the sense in the move - I had considered doing the same thing before I decided that Jacaerys deserved to be landed.

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As the wedding is coming to a close, we are brought important word from the west. Lord Paramount Franklyn Tully has passed away - and The Riverlands has passed to Lord Barion of The Westerlands. I do not like the idea of one man holding two Lord Paramountcies but I am not in a position to do much about it currently. There are bigger things to concern myself with.

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As I ride home from the wedding I send word ahead to begin mustering the soldiers. Jarl must be defeated, The North and The Wall must both be restored, and the Wildlings must be driven back into their frozen trouthole of a land. I send out the ravens and raise the banners. We march north.

ALREADY WINTER DAMN

Just the right season to be heading north!

I can truly imagine Queen Rhaella calling it a frozen trouthole too. Her family has been through so much and now she's gotta go into the least hospitable place in Westeros to deal with some glorified cavemen. smurf me, what a trout experience.

CK2 is currently experiencing 66% off on Steam. I just picked it up on the back of this thread and if you're thinking of doing the same, now is the hour!

Hooray!

Yeah CK2 was a great game at launch and has only got better as more content has arrived. There's also a wealth of mods aside from this one, such as Elder Kings (TES) and Lux Invicta (Billions of religions and cultures) and someone's making a crazy sci-fi mod and I don't even know.

Crazy sci-fi mod?? :eek: I need to get in on this.

I've never played a Paradox game so I don't have a smurfing clue what I'm doing. I played as Littlefinger in Feast For Crows and married one of the Sand Snake girls, then she had a stillborn and died shortly after aged 25. Not to worry there's plenty more of them, so I married another one and got her pregnant and then I learned she was 14 as I needed to appoint a guardian oh smurf. Throughout this entire time I had been imprisoning and then executing anyone who had any sort of plot at all (I don't even know if they were all against me. Indeed some were against the Arryn kid and some idk who they were against) regardless of the outcomes of their trials. Eventually I smurfed up and failed to capture some dude so he rose up in rebellion with the entire Riverlands so I quit :shobon:

Chapter 19: Taming the Wild Men

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They have taken to calling me Queen Rhaella The Restorer. It is a flattering name and one I would like to think is deserved. I have restored House Targaryen to the Iron Throne. I have brought The Reach back into the Seven Kingdoms. Still, if the epithet is to be heartfelt rather than an irony, I must restore the Seven Kingdoms to seven, not six. I remind myself that I am also the Queen under whom The North was lost, so my legacy is far from secure.

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I can summon some thirty thousand men at present for my own command. I call up every one and order them massed in King’s Landing. My intentions are simple. We shall split into three armies of approximately ten thousand soldiers apiece. I shall lead one, Kennett another, Boremund Baratheon the third. The first two shall proceed on foot on the long march northwards whilst Boremund’s host will board a fleet of ships and make for Skagos. It is remote; either Jarl will allow the islands to fall, which gives us a base in The North, or he will dispatch men to retake it. If he does that, it means there are a lot of soldiers we don’t have to fight further south.

When my armies arrive we will have to assess the situation before committing but, as it stands, my intention is to slowly move up The Neck, beginning at The Twins and moving on to Moat Cailin. Moat Cailin is one of the keys to The North. If we can take it the land lies open to us. If not, we shall be stuck and unable to move forwards.

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Before my own army, the first to depart, can even reach Harrenhal, I am brought word of multiple problems within my realm. Barion Tully has managed to get himself into wars with no fewer than two other Lord Paramountcies, The Reach and The Vale, in two different wars over minor territorial concerns. Lady Margaery implores me to assist her defense of The Vale, but I decline. I have no inclination to help my vassals war among themselves, and even if I did I’m busy with The North, and even if I wasn’t I don’t have the manpower to fight The Riverlands at this time.

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We have almost reached The Twins when I am brought sad news. My friend Moelle, who I have known and trusted since childhood, has been killed. I had sent her to Winterfell to gather information and perhaps try to sabotage the relations between Jarl and his vassals, but apparently she was discovered and he had her quietly killed. Damn him again. I relay word to King’s Landing that I will appoint a new Master of Whisperers upon my return but for the time being, the role shall be filled by my son Aelix. He is totally inept at intrigue but I have no time to consider myself with worthy successors - I merely need the post filled. Perhaps it will teach Aelix something of the world of smoke and shadows, too.

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As we cross The Twins and move towards Greywater Watch, a raven brings word that Boremund’s army has been assembled and is setting sail. I wonder if I shouldn’t redirect it to reinforce us, seeing as we have little hope of reinforcements from my other oh-so-loyal vassals, but decide for the time being to keep the orders as they were. I’ll see the lot of them punished for treason. Dorne, The Reach, The Westerlands and Riverlands, and The Vale are now all involved in wars. The Iron Islands sit quietly, Harmund Greyjoy apparently having no interest in serving his liege. However, Lord Ulf of Old Wyk - who has emerged independent from the Iron Islands’ many internal conflicts - has committed to my cause and sailed almost six thousand Ironborn to attack Karhold. How they got there so fast I cannot fathom, but it is far from unwelcome.

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When we arrive in Greywater Watch my scouts inform me that a large Northern army of about 18000 men is just a few days away. Kennett is, by contrast, a full month behind me. Ten thousand of my men against eighteen thousand enemies. I don’t like those odds, but I tell nobody of this - I just order the men to prepare defenses for the inevitable fight. To my shock the Northern army ceases its advance and draws back. Perhaps they sensed a ruse? Perhaps their information was inaccurate and we seemed larger than we are? Perhaps our information was wrong and they were smaller? No matter, it is a huge relief and should give Kennett time to arrive.

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Of course Lord Harmund cannot resist the opportunity. He seeks to conquer his own wayward vassal and has launched an attack on Old Wyk. Unlikely they will last long with so many soldiers away. Is there a single lord in this entire damned world who serves the realm instead of their own interests?

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As Kennett’s army meets and reinforces ours I get word that Boremund has landed at Driftwood Hall in Skagos and is beginning to besieges the frozen wastes the Skagosi are unlucky enough to inhabit. Meanwhile the army north of Greywater Watch has moved north again, though I dare not send forces north piecemeal in case it’s a trick. I resign myself to a long and grim winter war, besieging provinces one by one and losing more men to desertion and hunger than arrows and pikes.

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My efforts to divert Jarl’s attention seem to have succeeded. Scouts from the Old Wyk army report over 40,000 men moving towards Skagos. A couple of days later news revises that number upwards to almost 60,000 - the great majority of Jarl's numbers. I’m not especially concerned by the prospect of losing Boremund, but the men are important. Hopefully he will withdraw sensibly. I still do not move my own forces north, this is only two thirds of Jarl’s forces accounted for and plenty more could be waiting to pounce if we divide.

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We’ve been besieging the major settlements of Greywater Watch when I am struck by an awful realization. I am growing old. I’m in my forty-seventh year and I can no longer move with the speed and agility I once could, and I tire far more easily. I am no longer a very competent swordsman. I know the forms and stances and strikes, but I can barely execute them anymore. My time on the battlefield is coming to a close, I suspect, but for now, for one last time, Queen Rhaella will ride and smite her foes.

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Boremund did indeed retreat at a sensible time. We lost four thousand give hundred men, but the enemy lost seven thousand. Not the worst accounting. Still in the eyes of many this was a sound defeat and the Iron Throne’s forces were driven back to their ships.

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Greywater Watch is ours and I order the armies to move north into Silvereed, towards the only castle between here and Moat Cailin. We may be able to assail that fortress, but even if we succeed I feel this is only the start of a long and harsh war.

I'm in the middle of ASoIaF wiki spiral because of Skagos :colbert: Typical Westerosi though, engaging in their bickering game of thrones when there is a real threat brewing.

Jarl has upwards of 100,000 men? Jesus.

Rough. D:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Raistlin

Jarl has upwards of 100,000 men? Jesus.

---

Yeah I'm basically smurfed. If I'd had a couple of Lord Paramountcies come in like they were supposed to I would have a strong chance but I've sent 30,000 men against some insane number and immediately had every last Lord Paramount turn to their own absurd bickering.

Peak Westeros, of course, just as Paul said.

So what you're saying is that the great Targaryen reclaiming of the Iron Throne will last about 3 seconds before your army gets wiped the smurf out by invaders.

... this sounds like something that may actually happen in ASoIaF.

Make it the best three seconds of your life.

Chapter 20: Fighting a Land War in The North in Winter

The North. The grim bloody North. I have to remind myself why we’re even making the effort. I’ve heard more than one man grumble about letting the Wildlings have this frozen wasteland and although I brought them up sharply on that, I can’t say I don’t share the sentiment. But I have to reunite the Seven Kingdoms and drive the Wildlings back, I have to restore The Wall and the Night’s Watch.

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I get word that Boremund’s army, ragged though it is, is attempting to make landfall and meet with Old Wyk’s forces in the Karhold. Despite the siege of Old Wyk itself, no recall order has come to Ulf Grimm’s army. They would have little chance of returning to the Iron Islands in time to fight and no chance of winning that fight, but the loyalty nonetheless is heartening. At least one lord in this realm knows his duty, even if he is just a boy of eleven. Whether his forces will remain once Old Wyk falls and Ulf gives his surrender to Harmund Greyjoy I cannot say.

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The Wildlings arrive just before Boremund’s army, but they are fairly evenly matched and my side has the defensive advantage, being dug in near the village of Barbleton.

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I must press the issue. The other lords and ladies are prevaricating, but Lady Margaery is kin through her marriage to my son Aegor. Perhaps with his help I can convince her to join my war instead of wasting thousands of men in a fight over Crab’s blasted Shore. Who in the seven hells launches a war over Crab’s Shore? Barion Tully, apparently.

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By the Seven, Aegor has done it! Just hours after our arrival in Silvereed, I am brought a message from Lady Margaery. She informs me that she will absolutely honor her obligations. I am informed she currently has around 25,000 men, which could be better. How many of those will come my way I cannot say. Still, it is better by far than nothing at all. Perhaps I can find ways to pressure the other Lords.

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The High Septon has died. I dread to give this thought words, but I do wonder whether this passing is a sign from the Gods that my efforts against The North are not blessed. Well, it hardly matters now. Soon they will select a new High Septon and that will be that.

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Another setback, of course. Why would I experience anything that is not a setback when I am seated on this damned throne? My armies in the Karhold have been conclusively defeated and scattered. The survivors run straight into an even larger Northern army and half my men are cut down before they can reach the ships of my fleet. I order the handful of ragged, worn survivors to sail for my main army. They no longer have the numbers to be effective on their own.

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Boremund is dead. He was not, it seems, among those who made it back to the ships but was instead captured and hauled to Jarl’s dungeons. The poor conditions, the recent stresses of fighting, and the biting winter conspired to do away with Boremund. I cannot say I am altogether heartbroken, the man was a danger to me in the long run. We shall have to see what his son Renly is made of.

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Not very much, it would appear. The man is a dunce, not an outright simpleton but only just able to go about the tasks of his daily life and by no means a fit ruler. Well, at least that will make it difficult for him to make any moves on the Iron Throne.

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The ragged remains of Boremund’s army reach my main force just as we begin moving towards Moat Cailin. A small force from Massey’s Hook is already there, though they lack the numbers for an effective siege. It does give me knowledge of the area though and at least for the moment, movement towards Moat Cailin is safe for my men.

With all my forces now around me, I order them merged into a single larger host. I lead in the center, though I fear I am not the leader I once was. Kennett is on the left flank and Ser Dobber Byrch, of my Queensguard, on the right. I do not entertain the hope that we might suffice to beat the Wildlings if they come in force. My only hope is that the rumors of uprisings against Jarl, mainly by his own Wildling allies, are true and suffice to distract him.

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News comes that Old Wyk has fallen and Ulf Grimm has surrendered. He is removed from the war effort, although this is now of little consequence seeing as every last Ironborn in The North has been killed, imprisoned, or has melted away to try and make his way home.

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Damn this winter! Another of my Queensguard has died, The Lord Commander no less, at the age of just 47. I must find yet another man to fill his shoes and the list grows less impressive every year. He is replaced as Lord Commander by Ser Balman of Wendbridge, a capable man but one whose sword arm is failing him at the age of 60. I am surprised to soon find a suitable new member as well, in the shape of Ardrian Edgerton. He is reputedly a rather godly man and not shy about saying so, but more important he’s young and his skills with a sword are rare indeed.

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Finally, The Reach and Dorne have beaten Barion Tully and enforced whatever preposterous claim it was they were pressing. Maybe with this out of their systems they can get to the clearly unimportant task of defending the realm. I judge this unlikely. More probably they will find some new point of conflict, or simply prevaricate and claim their armies need time to replenish before they can join me. Half my damned army is dead of starvation or the cold while they grow soft and fat from the wealth of their lands.

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Moat Cailin has fallen. There have been several notable firsts during my reign, but this is one of the few which is actually a good thing. I order the men to move north once again, but rumors of Northern armies stop me from moving towards Winterfell in a hurry. As we arrive in Whitford, that very army approaches ours.

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We have time to dig in around Fordswatch before battle is joined. Our numbers are about even for the moment, but who knows how close enemy reinforcements might be? Well, it hardly matters, if we cannot win this one way or another that will likely be the end of the war. I order the men to meet them in battle.

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Of course, just as our victory is at hand, another Northern army arrives and joins the enemy. With the losses incurred so far in the fight we are now outnumbered two to one, and have fairly poor prospects of victory. I give the order to retreat, but we are harried throughout the ride and the enemy reaches Moat Cailin before we do. We are forced into battle.

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We still fight on, but we are obviously losing. As I contemplate how to organize the next retreat, a Wildling charge breaks through the lines and reaches my own coterie. As the Wildlings and my men fight Ser Malcolm steps forward to defend me and is slain by a woman who announces herself as Morra. As Malcolm falls and dies, Morra turns and advances on me. I draw my sword.

This doesn't look like it's going to end well. Winter has truly smurfing come.

IT'S HAPPENING

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.

Attachment 57037

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.

Attachment 57038

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.

Attachment 57039

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.

Attachment 57040

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.

Attachment 57396

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.

Attachment 57397

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!

Attachment 57398

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.

Attachment 57400

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.

Attachment 57401

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.

The mod updated fine, at least as far as I can see, though things may still break. Nonetheless we press on! Fire and Blood!

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Chapter 24: The Iron Islands

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As we march I send a message to Lord Paramount Gylbert, informing him that I would appoint him to Master of Ships. The Ironborn are better acquainted with the seas than any other people of Westeros.

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I have heard more than one rumor about his ambitions and I hope the recognition and honor might dissuade him. If he declares his independence, I will have to allow it for the time being. We have no hope whatsoever of defeating him with our forces in such a state and another war with Jarl beginning.

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Apparently he has calculated the same, because the reply to my appointment comes swiftly and shows that he knows exactly what my prospects of victory are. With a heavy heart I permit his treason. What else can I do? We have no men and no money, we have the Wildlings to fight, and I can rely on none of my other vassal lords and ladies to assist me. If Gylbert is so determined to rule his spikes of rocky pissing land that jut out of the sea, I'll not spend blood and treasure to keep them. Not at a time like this, anyway.

Attachment 57577

Laugh while you can, kraken.

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Presumably pressured by the Freys, the small Riverland holding of Wycombe, ruled by Lady Tilly Terrick, have also declared themselves on the side of Jarl. Their army is my first target and we meet near Chiltern Castle, which Wycombe had laid siege to. We soon defeat them and drive the survivors away towards Darkmoor. I give the order to give chase as my armies are yet too small to fight the Northern ones, so we must make ourselves useful elsewise. Once they are run down and wiped out, we march for Golden Tooth, where the main Riverlander/Westerlander army is currently mustering.

Attachment 57578

A letter from King’s Landing tells me that winter is lifting there, and the fields are again fertile and soft. I thank the Mother for her mercy, as this is a sorely needed bit of good news during a difficult time for the realm.

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I am told that the North and Freylands have an army of about 12,000 men already besieging Stillfen, just north of the Blue Fork of the Trident. We should avoid them but must be alert for any sudden moves at interception on their part.

Attachment 57580

As we march and aim to meet the allied army, itself now moving north, I am brought a letter from Lady Senelle Martell. She claims that she, not Janyce, is rightwise Princess of Dorne, and asks for my support in pressing her claim. However, she then asks for this support in the form of money - I scoff with laughter when I read how much she asks for! The Iron Throne is bankrupt, indebted to half the world, with payments due to lenders from Ibb to Assahai. I can hardly throw over a hundred gold dragons away on some folly even if I wished to.

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Before I even finish my reply to Senelle, I hear a commotion and rush to investigate. Lord Commander Balman has died, peacefully and naturally it seems, and will no longer serve in my Kingsguard. He is succeeded by Ser Karyl of Old Beehive, who is aging but loyal and still fierce, and after some searching we find the moderately skilled Ser Florian of Blackadder to serve me.

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Days later we join the Tully army in Stillfen - they had marched at great speed to meet our enemies, and we had to catch up. The battle is already in progress but we have had to cross a river to attack and the Northerners have made great use of the terrain. We are driven back across the river with considerable losses, and they give chase, killing even more in Fairmarket. I give the order for a general retreat and dissolve the army, as it’s the only way to save any of my men now.

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Fortunately, the time at war and end of winter has helped to free up a decent number of men to replace my losses. I order new soldiers called up and organized in King’s Landing, and I estimate some 15,000 should be at my command once the last of them arrive. I have also ordered many of the stores opened, now that winter is retreating, and what little grain that remains in them is to be given to the peasantry of King’s Landing. This seems to meet with approval among several of my courtiers and vassals.

Attachment 57586

The Maesters report that my young third son, Maegor, who is just beginning his studies, demonstrates a sharp mind and quick wit. It pleases me greatly to see that Targaryen blood remains so potent, and I hope he will be a loyal and brilliant ally of my heir Baelor.

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With just over 10,000 men assembled I decide to give the order to march for the front. The remaining 5,000 are marching from Dorne and will take some time to arrive, but the tide of war must be turned now. Our first target is Wycombe. It will help the cause and boost morale if we can cut away Jarl’s supporters, however small, and it will give me time to assess the situation before committing.

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My sister Visenya informs me that she is once again with child. For all our mutual dislike, she has never shied away from her duty to the House and has given many children. I pray for another healthy one now. But despite this, being on campaign wears at a man, and the temptations of the many camp followers and other women are too strong for me to resist - when I come across some of my men enjoying the company of several comely lasses, I grab a couple for myself. (The hatesex with Visenya must be amazing, but I can only imagine the poor man needs to lie with women who pretends to like him sometimes)

As we besiege Wycbome, we are brought word that an enemy army is approaching from the South, apparently having swept aside the Tully forces far more easily than I had expected. I remind myself that Jarl is truly a master of the art of war and then turn to our defenses. They outnumber us somewhat, but proper use of the terrain may give us the edge. I can count on no reinforcements or other help.

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Sad news comes from Dorne just before battle is joined. Lady Janyce Martell has died comatose in bed, and is succeeded by Prince Archibald, a stuttering, lisping man of few talents.

I was wrong about not expecting reinforcements. The internal wars of The Vale have finally ended and Lord Paramount Laren Crabb, the newly appointed ruler of that land, has informed me that all the soldiers he can muster are at my disposal. Some 22,000 soldiers are already marching for our battlefield in Wycombe, and with Tully reinforcements coming from the south, we may be able to turn this around after all. It is a strange feeling, to have good luck. The precise opposite of everything I saw my poor mother endure.

Attachment 57592

The reinforcements do not arrive quickly enough, but we move towards The Vale and will soon join up into a force far too large for the current enemy armies to resist. It will take time to arrive and reorganize, but perhaps this will be seen as the turning point, the first time in a long long time that Jarl was defeated.

Far out, how smurfing virile is the Blood of the Dragon :hahaha:

Chapter 25: The Death of a King

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We have arrived in Darkmoor and joined with the forces of The Vale. With some 25,000 men now under my command I am well placed to take the fight to Jarl and finally push back this menace. I wonder idly how long it was since such a large force was assembled for a Targaryen. My mother’s conquest of The Reach, I think?

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As we move to engage Jarl’s army I am brought word from King’s Landing. We have a daughter, whom Visenya has named Cyaena, a good name. With news of this birth gladdening the men’s hearts we join battle near Lord Harroway’s Town.

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The battle goes even better than I dared hope for. Jarl himself is there, leading the right flank, and although he inspires his men to fight to the last it does not profit them much. Jarl himself slips away as the battle closes, but we have ridden down almost all of his soldiers and over ten thousand dead Northerners and Wildlings lie in sight of Harroway Tower.

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We march for Wycombe to again besiege it. Shortly after arriving there my men from Dorne finally reach the war, bringing my manpower up to almost 28,000 soldiers despite our losses in the last battle. With winter lifting it should be significantly easier to maintain these forces in the field, and I hope losses to attrition are much lower than they have been before.

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It does not take long for such a force to besiege Wycombe, and I order the place stripped to the bones for loot. Disrespectful, perhaps, but I have many debts and little interest in obliging the rights of traitors. Wyctown and Combetown meet the same fate, though I order the smallfolk to be left in peace as long as they do not resist. This pillaging has nonetheless helped to bolster our coffers considerably, and I estimate that within another year the debts of the Iron Throne I inherited from my mother will be paid off.

With these lands secured I move north towards the lands of House Frey. I will forgive Lady Tilly Terrick of Wycombe if she asks for it, she is too small to resist the forces that were crashing towards her. The Freys are another matter. Had they held at The Twins it would have taken months or longer for Jarl to cross, and that would have given me time to meet him much more confidently. Instead Ermen Frey chose to side with Jarl and open the way south for the Wildling hordes. Even if I were to forget their betrayal of my great-grandfather Aerys II, I hold many of the deaths in this war to be on the heads of House Frey, and I will see them punished.

Just before we set off though, word comes that another sizable army is south at the Red Fork of the Trident. I change our orders immediately, we cannot win this as long as Jarl’s forces roam around our lands. The Freys can wait. Justice might come late, but it will come.

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We join battle at the Red Fork, near the castle of Stonemill, which Jarl had been besieging. He is here again, at the head of his army this time, but I am reinforced by thousands of Tully soldiers and we outnumber them three to one. Even with Jarl’s brilliance in war it would be an incredible feat for him to win, and this is a feat he cannot manage. We crush another army and I order my men to again move towards The Crossing.

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In the aftermath of the battle I make sure Lord Paramount Laren Crabb knows of my gratitude. I give him a role on my Small Council as a general adviser and I bestow upon him the title Warden of the East, a title which had fallen into vacancy in the late wars. House Crabb has a notion of loyalty and the importance of obeying one’s liege, and I shall ensure this is repaid.

Attachment 57643

Letters from King’s Landing give worrying suggestions about my son Orys, who seems to be deeply distrustful and very much convinced he is the enemy of all. Hopefully the years he will spend learning at the feet of the Maesters will change his convictions.

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It seems these two defeats have finally shaken Jarl’s grip loose enough that a plan I had long drawn up can be attempted. Many people in The North are, unsurprisingly, unhappy with the coarse and cruel rule of the Wildlings and although they live in fear of Jarl’s retribution these late defeats he has suffered are weakening that fear. Jarl is planning a speech soon to appeal to his retainers and men and press them for more commitment to the war, and if we manage to weaken the balcony beforehand…

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Days before we arrive at the Freylands, Lord Ermen is murdered by unknown conspirators and his daughter and only child, the one-year-old Lady Arwyn Frey, comes into her throne. Immediately her regent pledges the Frey’s loyalty to Barion Tully and the Riverlands, and as he accepts, there is no more cause to fight House Frey. This galls me. What a convenient twist of fate for House Frey that they should find their loyalty just as their justice is at hand. Still, it does conserve men for the war in general. There is some consolation in that.

My mother was an uncanny master of intrigue and duplicity. I am told that only Lord Varys The Spider exceeded her skills. Nobody knows how many she had killed, for she was careful to cover her tracks and rarely even implicated, but I do know from my childhood that the rumors of her killing every usurper on the Iron Throne did not come from nowhere. I am a far poorer practitioner of this dark art, but apparently I am good enough at it - Jarl did not even have time to begin his address when the balcony collapsed and he fell many feet to the ground in Winterfell, where he smashed like a rotten fruit.

Attachment 57646

Jarl the Handsome, scourge of the Seven Kingdoms and Harrier of the North, is dead.

Not so handsome now you're mush! :mwahaha:

Ohhhhh trout. The tide just turned.

Also I am amused by the idea of Lord Frey only having one child.

Let's hope this disrupts the stability of those wildling bastards.

Chapter 26:The King in the West

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Jarl’s son Cayn takes command of The North, and though he is a competent leader he will always be a dwarf in his father’s giant shadow. I sincerely hope his realm will fracture as different groups and individuals jostle for power but, even if he holds it together for now, we have the advantage in this war.

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With The Riverlands free of Northern foes, I give the order to march north towards The Neck. This area, between The Twins and Moat Cailin, is the grave of my mother’s armies. More than I can remember were undone here, fighting valiantly but falling before the relentless horde of Wildlings and their thralls. I do not intend to meet the same fate. With Moat Cailin under the command of Lord Gawen Wythers, who rejected Jarl’s war against the southern lands, I will not have to take that bitter castle itself, something which I am deeply grateful for.

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A few days after we begin the march, I am brought a raven sent by my Master of Coin back in King’s Landing. He is very pleased to inform me that, after over four years, the debts I inherited from my mother have finally been paid off and the coffers of the Iron Throne are again seeing a positive sum within them. It’s a very small positive sum so far, to be sure, but I treasure this solitary gold dragon from afar as much as another Lord might treasure a Valyrian Steel sword.

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The run of good luck could not last, of course. Far too much has gone far too well for me these past few years, and it is with a heavy heart but little surprise that I get the report that yet again winter is coming. I pray to the Seven that it shall be a short and light one.

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When we arrive in Moat Cailin I take stock of the situation and decide on the strategy now that we are on the offensive. We march directly for Winterfell, which Jarl turned into his capital and where Cayn now rules as well. If we take that holding it will be a great blow to the Wildlings and reinforce the morale of my armies and allies. If we are really lucky we might even catch Cayn himself there, a coup which would end the war in one stroke. I want to end this war as quickly as possible - rumblings of the coming of Winter are already unsettling the men and we’ve had several desertions. This will only get worse as the North freezes.

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We arrive at Winterfell without incident, but the place has been reinforced with a vast army. It will take a long, long time to siege the castle down.

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After months of siege, with thousands of my men dead or deserting, the war comes to an end. Winterfall, about to fall, seeks to parley - and Lord Paramount Barion accepts. The weak laws of the realm due to the usurper Jonquil Baratheon mean he is quite at liberty to negotiate peace without my input, and soon a white peace is announced. Cayn will cease the invasion, but will not pay any reparations or cede lands. It galls me deeply to accept this, but I have no choice, and the men are in no state to continue a war at my behest alone, not when all they can see is that the immediate thread is passed and the warmth of home calls to them. I order the army to march south and return home.

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Good news is awaiting me at home in King’s Landing. Young Aemond, my youngest son, is entering schooling and like his older brother Maegon he has a strong mind that easily grasps the lessons the Maesters and Septas impart to him. With the wars over for the time being, I can finally turn my attention to my family, and I have my heir Baelor and second son Aerys both brought into my own care as my wards. It is important that a son know his father’s and his house’s rules and customs, and I intend to spend their remaining years of schooling imparting just that.

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King’s Landing is looking better than I remember it being for many years. Winter is coming, but has not yet reached us here in the Crownlands, and I enjoy some days of restful recuperation before turning my attention to the affairs of state. My first order of business is to reorganize my Small Council. I name Laren Crabb my Master of Laws and I name Archibald Martell my Hand. We do not yet completely trust each other, but the relationship is good enough, and he is one of the best candidates for the job. Although the High Septon has done an unexpectedly good job as Master of Arms I remove him from the post and appoint Lord Commander Karyl of my Kingsguard. Master of Coin I give to my sister-wife Visenya. It seems to make no difference to her opinion of me, but she is exceedingly skilled with money and numbers and, now that our finances are better, her capacity for harm is reduced. Finally I name my bastard daughter Aglantine Waters my Master of Whisperers. Growing up a bastard has taught her caution and patience, and she is clearly one of the best in the city if not the whole realm for the task.

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A few weeks later, after attending an enjoyable tourney and enjoying the fading warmth even more, I order a grand feast is to be held in King’s Landing. I shall invite essentially every lord and lady I can, and I intend to impress them with House Targaryen’s restored power and growing wealth. Miraculously, with the guests arriving and the celebrations commencing, my Grand Maester comes to visit me. He informs me with great pleasure that winter is coming to an end. I hardly believe it and ask him to confirm that this is not a joke, but he smiles and assures me that the Citadel’s best are confident winter is passing. I had never dared to dream that it might pass so quickly and with so little pain. It makes me wonder, though, why my rule is so blessed whilst my mother’s was so cursed. Perhaps the Gods, though favoring the Targaryens, could not accept even her most righteous usurpation of the Iron Throne? I cannot say.

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With this joyous news in mind, and news from The North that many of Cayn’s Northman vassals have broken away from his rule, the feast is a roaring success. Wine is drunk, food is eaten, bawdy jokes are told, and a jolly good time is had by all. For the first time in years I feel comfortable and even optimistic about the future. And then it all comes crashing down.

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Barion Tully had been engaged with a scuffle with Renly Baratheon over some inconsequential plot of land or another, but in the aftermath of his victory he declared himself King of The Trident, positing himself as equal to myself and claiming The Riverlands and The Westerlands both for himself. I also hear rumors that Lord Paramount Reynard Tyrell is planning to do the same thing with The Reach, though I cannot ascertain how true those are. It seems that yet again, war rears its head in Westeros, but if I must fight to restore the Iron Throne for House Targaryen, I shall fight. I will not be betrayed and I will not suffer traitors to don crowns and rule lands that are rightfully mine! House Tully will pay.

WINTER IS CO- oh wait it's already over sorry about that

Winter Is Going.

Don't worry, I'm sure winter will be back soon enough!

Chapter 27: Kingslayer

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Awaiting Reynard Tyrell’s next move proved me largely right; he has proclaimed war on us with the intent of capturing the Dornish Marches, ruled from Storm’s End, for The Reach. Though he has not formally renounced Lord Paramountcy this can only be a prelude to proclaiming himself yet another King, and I will crush him for his crimes. To my relief Lord Paramount Laren Crabb continues to be loyal and joins the war on our side as well. Renly Baratheon has said anything much but I have been able to raise men in his lands without meeting protest. Stormlands, Crownlands, and Vale, against The Reach. It should be easy but we are still rather depleted by the late wars, and I cannot speak to the ambitions of Barion Tully or Gylbert Greyjoy. Hopefully Cayn is still too distracted to post a threat, at least.

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As my men gather in King’s Landing for yet another conflict that will claim far too many lives, I read reports from the border between Dorne and The Reach. These reports give me pause. They speak of a vast number of Reachmen, perhaps 70,000 all told. I can only call up 40,000 from the Stormlands and Crownlands combined, though The Vale’s men should bring us up to parity. If Dorne were to get involved that would change matters dramatically, so I send appeals and inducements to Archibald Martell.

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While we are fighting small Reachman armies and wasting away in the deserts and mountains that border Dorne, House Tully decides to stick yet another knife into my back. Barion has declared a war upon Laren Crabb of The Vale over the holding of Chiltern, a fairly inconsequential holding that could devastate my realm.

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Mine is not the only realm riven by war, however. News comes that the Iron Islands have split in two as Great Wyk’s Gormond Goodbrother seeks to become King of Salt and Rock. In Essos, Grigg Tall-Talker has inherited control of Lys and conquered both Volantis and Myr. In fact in all the world it seems only the Summer Islands, Ibben, and Asshai are united and at peace.

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We are trapped between the coast and the mountains, with one Reachman army coming from the south and two more from the north. Although for awhile our defenses hold, their sheer numbers overwhelm us and my armies are shattered, thousands dead. I manage to get through the lines and ride for safety, taking a small ship from a Dornish port to King’s Landing.

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As I await the arrival of new men, I am gratified to learn that at least one of the many divisions in my realm may work in my favor. Cayn’s ability to hold The North is very much in question and he is fighting - and losing - a vicious war against many Northern lords who are seeking to install Cellador Stark as their liege.

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Princess Cyaena, my youngest child, is another sharp mind. I love my heir Baelor dearly, but he does not inspire much awe. Speaking of Baelor, I have been seeking a marriage for him to secure our house and perhaps an alliance, but Visenya will not allow him to leave Dragonstone. On investigation I discover the reason: They have become lovers. If she produces any more children, I may have to contend with the fact that my own son is the father instead of me.

My new army engages the Reachmen in Harvest Hall. Their army is in tatters, ranks empty and many tasks clearly being done by those untrained for them. I can only imagine how many dead Reachmen must lie in these parts, dead not from our blades and arrows but from thirst and hunger and disease.

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The fight begins well, with a daring move against the enemy flank costing them hundreds of lives, and there seems no hope for their victory. During the melee I am confronted by one Eustace Roxton, a member of some lowly house few people care about.

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We engage in tense combat, but Eustace is not one for careful moves, as he launches a vicious attack before I can ready myself! I roll out of the way before he can strike a decisive blow, though I am injured. We begin to circle each other once again.

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He tries another attack but I’ll have him this time!

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Mother’s mouth is a thin line that betrays no emotion when she informs me: Father is dead, slain by Eustace the Kingslayer in personal combat on the fields of Harvest Hall.

What an undignified end for a Targaryen king. And am I right... the new king is, quite literally, a mothersmurfer?

He is a complete and literal mothersmurfer, and he also has sex with his own mother.

Lovely. So that makes her both a brothersmurfer and a sonsmurfer. And indeed a nephewsmurfer come to think of it. ...are we sure her coin didn't land on "Madness"?

Guys, I'm afraid I have some bad news. I don't know what exactly has happened but my game has become incredibly crashy, and I can't proceed more than a couple of months into Baelor's reign without encountering a crash. As such I'm afraid I've got to bring this LP to an end :( However, here are some highlights that happened consistently before crashes:

Epilogue

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First, you need to understand that when I called Baelor a mothersmurfer, I wasn't insulting him for smurfing his mother. I was insulting him for being an irredeemable smurfwit. His stats are some of the worst I've ever seen a high-level royal end up with without having some sort of specific malus like Inbred or something; I've seen ugly dwarves with harelips and club feet with better stats than this.

In fact, these stats are about on par with Joffrey's, with Barion having mildly better martial and Joffrey better intrigue and stewardship. If you go back to the very first entry's very first picture, you'll see that even The Mad King has better overall stats.

The consequence of these awful stats are that everyone hates Baelor and they're all super ready to try to do something about him. For example:

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Dorne declares war to try and install some Allyrion douchegargler (also note that he has two different education traits, which is impossible without either cheating or bugs),

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My own sister begins forming an adventurer band to usurp me,

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Mother decides to marry my brother instead of me, which leaves me with just my dick in my hands when trying to find a decent wife,

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And best of all my own Lord Commander of the Kingsguard tells me to smurf off and that he's not attending my coronation ceremony.

The best possible outcome from this absolute prick on the throne would be that someone assassinates him very quickly, and his brother Aerys takes power. However, failing that there's really no way for House Targaryen to come out of this intact, and they'd end up in Dragonstone again one way or another, and I doubt I'd have had the patience to try to retake the Iron Throne a second time.

Do not worry though friends, I'm sure I shall be making a new LP before long! Thank you all for your comments and reps and supports, it's deeply appreciated :jess:

What a tale of highs and lows for House Targaryen: from ruling to nothing to ruling again to probably nothing again. That was quite entertaining, though the LP had probably gone on long enough for us to get the moral of the story: peace lasts about 5 minutes before all hell breaks loose.

In many ways we come full circle then. The fall and rise and fall of House Targaryen.

What a lovely LP, it inspired me to get CKII (which I shall have to devote more time to than I have!) and I have thoroughly enjoyed it.

Rest in RIP LP ;_;7

A very good one though! It lasted much longer than my similar one. xD And I enjoyed reading it quite a lot! :3:

Thank you all for your kind words, and it's really cool that I inspired someone to get the game :jess:

This was quite the journey! Sad to see it crash out, but oh well. x} Looking forward to your next adventure!