Bastards and Broken Things (A House Blackfyre Narrative AAR)
Hello, and welcome to my latest after-action-report. I'll try to keep my introduction brief! I'm starting in 195 AC, during the Blackfyre Rebellion bookmark, and playing as Daemon Blackfyre. I'll be playing his line until I either arrive at a logical conclusion, lose interest, or the game bugs out/save file gets corrupted and I can no longer play. This will be a narrative AAR, primarily featuring the Blackfyres, their near kin, and the Targaryens, and as such I hope for many of my characters to achieve the status of "compelling assholes."
- The current occupier of The Iron Throne of Westeros is King Daeron II 'the Good' Targaryen.
- He has 4 sons.
- 4 Legitimate:
- Prince Baelor 'Breakspear' Targaryen
- Prince Aerys Targaryen
- Prince Rhaegel Targaryen
- Prince Maekar Targaryen
- The Iron Throne is currently facing an uprising from the king's bastard half-brother, Daemon Blackfyre.
- Baelor Breakspear, along with one of the king's loyal half-brothers, Brynden Rivers, commands the Targaryen forces, along with Prince Maekar.
- Brynden Rivers, also known as Bloodraven, has a legendary rivalry with Aegor Bittersteel, another bastard of Aegon the Unworthy by a Bracken.
- The Westerlands
- The Westerlands are ruled by the hardworking Lord Damon Lannister, a man of 39 with a sense of patience matched only by his appetite.
- He is married to the 31 year old Lady Cerissa Brax, a daughter of one of his vassals.
- Damon has 2 sons, Tybolt (5) and Gerold (3).
- Damon has a sister, Lenora the Maid, who is 35 and has never wed.
- Damon has a brother, Lord Symond Lannister, who is married to the daughter (and present in the court) of Lord Arion Baratheon of Storm's End. - Symond Lannister has a son and 3 daughters.
- Damon has sided with the royal Targaryen forces against Daemon Blackfyre.
- Lords Reyne, Crakehall, and Plumm have risen against Damon in favor of Daemon Blackfyre, whilst Lords Serrett, Payne, and Sarsfield have opted to remain neutral until a winner is found.
- The Vale:
- The Vale is ruled by Lord Donnel Arryn, a proud and brave skilled warrior of 38, with a strong sense of justice. - He is married to Lady Jena Tyrell, sister of Leo Longthorn.
- He has 3 trueborn children, 1 trueborn grandchild, 3 siblings, and 1 bastard nephew through his brother.
- Lord Donnel has sided with House Targaryen.
- Currently, the Sistermen have risen up against the Arryns of the Vale in favor of the Black Dragon, while several minor houses remain neutral.
- The Stormlands
- The Stormlands are ruled by Arion Baratheon, a humble and brave hedonist who spends what time he isn't whoring or fighting, in the Sept repenting.
- He has 3 children.
- His heir is Ser Axel Baratheon, a brave and arbitrary lord, who has a son of 4 of his own (Little Lyonel Baratheon, is his nickname in the castle).
- Despite his marriage ties to the Lannisters, Arion Baratheon has refused to take part in the Blackfyre Rebellion until now.
- Arion's vassals are loyal and behind him in his decisions.
- The Trident
- The Trident is ruled over by Lord Edmund Tully, a kind and brave liege of 31, with a strong sense of justice.
- Lord Tully's eldest daughter is married to the Darry's, while his sister is married to the Mallisters.
- Lord Tully has declared for King Daeron II Targaryen.
- The Lothstons and several minor houses have declared for the Black Dragon and have gathered with Daemon himself in Harrenhal with a host of 20,000.
- Lord Tully's heir is his 7 year old son, Medgar Tully.
- The Reach
- The Reach is ruled over by the legendary warrior, Leo Longthorn, of House Tyrell, a brave, just, and honorable man.
- Leo Tyrell is unmarried and without issue.
- Should he die, the rulership of the Reach will pass to his nephew, Ser Othor Arryn, uniting the Reach and the Vale of Arryn under House Arryn.
- The North
- The North is ruled by Old Lord Jonnel 'One-Eye' Stark, a man of 45 who looks 60. It is said he cares not for laws and is legendarily cruel.
- Jonnel is married to his niece, Sansa Stark.
- Jonnel is without issue. - Jonnel has a massive family, with many brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, and nephews.
- Should Jonnel die, rulership of the North will pass to his younger brother, Barthogan 'Blacksword' of House Stark. - Lord Stark is currently dealing with a major rebellion from the Skagosi Wildlings of Skagos, and has vowed to kill every last Skagosi living on their isle.
- The Iron Isles
- The Iron Isles are currently ruled by the capable, if somewhat unstable, Alton 'the Holy Fool' of House Greyjoy.
- So far he has remained neutral in the conflict between House Blackfyre and House Targaryen.
- He has amassed a massive army and fleet.
- He has several sons, and a daughter.
- Should he die, his position will pass to his unworthy, lazy, arbitrary party-boy son, Alvyn Greyjoy.
- Dorne is ruled by Prince Maron Martell.
- Maron is wed to the king's sister, Princess Daenerys Targaryen.
- Maron has 3 children by his wife, his son and heir Olyvar Martell, and two daughters.
- Maron has backed his good-brother, King Daeron II.
- Misc. - The Free Cities are in their usual state.
- The Ghiscari are in their usual state.
- Rumors from the Far East reveal nothing shocking.
- Tyrosh has declared its support for Daemon, likely through the politicking of his good-father, Archon Oro.
Aegor stared at his silver-haired brother intently. Daemon had been blessed with the Valyrian looks of their heritage, whilst Aegor had been cursed with the look of lesser men. It had been tricky -- arranging the fiasco that led to Daeron the Good attempting to arrest Daemon without getting caught... I'm a verifiable genius, he thought to himself. Much worthier of glory than that ill-bred half-Blackwood whore-son men call Bloodraven. Even Bloodraven had been given the looks of their father... No matter. Soon enough he'll be in the grave, and I'll be the brother and son-in-law of the king. My king.
If Aegor couldn't rule himself, he'd have to do so through his elder brother. The honorable fool.
"Brother," Bittersteel began. "Daeron has proven his bastard blood. Ser Quentyn has smuggled your children out of the castle, and Lord Lothston has promised you refuge from Daeron Falseborn." He clapped his brother on the shoulder, as Daemon dismounted from the black stallion he was riding, looking almost in a daze.
Daemon found a stool and sat, cradling his head with his hands as though he had a headache. "Gods dammit, Aegor!" Daemon's hands slid to his knees as he stared his half-Bracken brother in the eye. "I can't believe Daeron would have done this..."
Fireball approached, adorned in knightly armor, interrupting the two. "Lord Lothston would like a word as soon as possible, your grace." Quentyn turned to Bittersteel. "You too, Aegor. Lothston wants to talk to both of ya." And with that, Fireball galloped into a different part of the gigantic deformed castle's courtyard, presumably to find a stable.
The fool of a knight, Fireball, certainly suspected something, but he probably doesn't know the full extent of my plan. Good. Though Fireball didn't like Daeron, especially after being passed over for the Kingsguard after being promised a seat by Old Aegon the Whoremonger, the old knight certainly wouldn't have turned to treason were he not entirely sure a wrong had been committed against his friend and former squire, Daemon. Fireball was skilled and quick to anger, though eternally loyal to his friends. When Bittersteel leaked information to Fireball exposing a "plot" against Daemon from "within the heart of the Red Keep," Fireball could be counted on to support his friend and adopted son over the king who had denied him his place.
Of course, a single knight could not have enact an escape from the Red Keep by himself, and Bittersteel had taken this into account. Lord Hand Butterwell was more than amiable to the idea of regime change, after I offered the disloyal cunt lands and riches in return for his help. He forged the letter to Daemon AND botched the royalist pursuit of Fireball and Daemon. A better tool I could not have asked for.
Daemon rose. "Come, brother," he ordered Aegor, his naturally-commanding tone returning. "I know who I can trust now." Aegor smiled, dismounted, ordered two squires to attend their horses, and followed his brother, king, and puppet to the audience chamber with Lord Lothston.
Part 2 -- Aemon Blackfyre #1:
Aegon swung up, pivoted, and pressed his advantage. Aemon's sword-arm quaked as he tried to hold his twin brother, and closest friend in the world, off.
"Give up, Aemon," Aegon laughed. "I've got you beat."
"Really, brother?" Aemon asked, amused, as he ducked and rolled, breaking contact with Egg's sword and tripping his brother.
Aegon dropped his sword, and scrambled to pick it back up.
Part 3 -- Daemon the Younger #1:
Daemon watched in awe as his elder brothers sparred. Though he loved listening to the singers sing their songs, he appreciated the art of swordsplay, and wished he was as good as his brothers. Then he saw Aemon go down. Aemon always was his favorite, what with Aegon being the meaner of the two, so Daemon started shouting Aemon's name from the sidelines, his words drowned out by the growing crowd of soldiers watching the training unfold. It's not every day two Princes of the Blood sparred in public.
Aemon crawled quickly on top of Aegon, preventing his elder brother from moving towards his wooden sparring blade. The two wrestled on the ground, flinging insults at each other for a good minute before Aegon gained the upper hand, pushing Aemon under him and grabbing the second twin in a pinning technique.
As Redtusk, the honorable Crakehall knight Daemon had left to watch over his sons while he held war council, prepared to step in, Daemon the Younger was overcome with rage. He wanted Aemon to win! And without a second thought, Daemon the Younger rushed into the ring and kicked Prince Aegon square in the head, knocking the elder prince back, Aegon's head landing in a muddy puddle of water.
The entire crowd went still, wondering if Prince Aegon was hurt badly. Aegon slowly raised after a moment, eliciting a sigh of relief from the group.
Aegon turned to look at his brother...
"I'm sorry Egg!" Daemon said, noticing the look of pure rage on his elder brother's face. This wasn't the first time he had seen this look, and he knew what was coming. Daemon backed up, trying to put distance between his older sibling and himself, to no avail. Aegon was faster, quickened by countless duels with his father and brother, and grabbed Daemon by his lengthy silver hair, pulling him to the center of the ring.
"This is enough, Prince Aegon," Bertrand Crakehall said, trying to intervene.
Aegon immediately shouted, rage evident in his voice. "NO IT IS NOT! YOU FORGET YOUR PLACE, KNIGHT," reminding Bertrand of the fact that he was technically bound to do Aegon's bidding. With a sigh of frustration, Redtusk stepped back.
Oh fuck, he's gonna humiliate the dumb little shit. Sure, Aemon didn't like Daemon particularly, but the boy looked up to him, and was only trying to help. Aemon saw Crakehall step back.
Aegon knelt down on Daemon, holding the frail-looking boy on the ground. Daemon was struggling, pleading, asking anybody to help him. Out of the crowd ran a slender boy, perhaps a few years older than Aegon. It took a minute for Aemon to recall the kid's name -- Alyn Cockshaw, son and heir of Lord Cockshaw, one of their father's supporters.
"Get away from him, you fucking bully cunt!" Alyn shouted, running towards Aegon. Despite being older, Alyn was slightly smaller in frame than Aegon, and certainly weaker. Aegon stood up and swung his wooden sword at Alyn, hitting him in the side of the head and causing the Cockshaw heir to fall to the ground. Aegon began unleashing his fury on Cockshaw, kicking the boy in the gut repeatedly to the cheers of the ever-increasing crowd. Aemon didn't know what to do, as his brother humiliated Cockshaw. Aemon looked to Daemon, thinking that he could perhaps use the distraction to get Daemon out of the ring, but little Daemon was on the ground, crying. Redtusk had stepped back in, and was trying to comfort the boy.
Aegon's not usually a bad guy, Aemon thought. But his pride had been damaged in front of the crowd. There's no telling what he'll do now.
Aegon stopped, and looked at the crowd that had been gathered by the spectacle. Several hundred men, at the very least. All of a sudden, Aegon's angry look was replaced with a sadistic smile.
He turned to Daemon, then looked at Redtusk. "Take his clothes off!" Aegon ordered the knight, who sported a confused look.
"Pardon me, your..."
"You heard me. Take the little shit's clothes off. Strip him naked."
"SILENCE, KNIGHT!" Aegon approached Redtusk. "DON't MAKE ME SHOW YOU WHAT IT'S LIKE TO WAKE THE DRAGON!"
At this point the crowd was cheering, chanting Aegon's name. Aemon couldn't help but be disgusted by what his brother was doing, and felt the urge to intervene.
Daemon began to beg, to plead with his elder brother, to apologize. Aegon ignored the boy, as Redtusk begrudgingly began to strip Daemon naked. Aegon turned to Cockshaw. "You too. Take your fucking clothes off," he said, pointing his wooden sword at the boy who was nearly one and a half times his age.
Alyn, unlike Daemon, began to undress immediately, seeing the futility of resisting.
Unable to stand this nonsense any longer, Aemon stepped in. "Look, Egg, don't you think they've been punished enough? They know not to challenge you now?" Aemon was hoping that his brother would see reason, as the knights would follow Aegon's orders before Aemon's, and as such there was very little Aemon could do aside from reason with Aegon.
"No," Aegon said plainly, "I need to make a demonstration of them." He turned to Daemon. Then Alyn. "Okay, you shits. Kiss."
"AEGON!" Aemon shouted. "Don't do this, he's our brother."
"Who humiliated me!" Aegon replied matter-of-factly. "You're either with me, or against me. My friend or my enemy."
"Now, Egg, I..."
"NO! Decide now. Help the boy or step aside. Be sure you make the right decision brother. I'd hate to get on my bad side."
Aemon hesitated. I'm sorry, Daemon, he thought as he stepped back, allowing Aegon to approach Alyn and Daemon.
Sorry for some of the wonkiness with the text -- I think it's a bug in the software of the website, as everything shows up correctly from the editor end.
Also, I made Aegon and Aemon friends, while I made Daemon the Younger rivals with both of his elder brothers, per canon saying that Aegon and Aemon were "wretched bullies." Also console-added some child lersonality traits for lore reasons. Hope y'all don't mind!
Thanks!!! Words of encouragement are always appreciated, and help me get feedback on my writing and storytelling! Plus, it lets me know people are following this, which is literally one of the main reasons I take the time to write these out and edit them.
I fully intend to continue this, but I've been having internet problems that make posting another chapter difficult. They should be resolved by next weekend though, and I'll try to get something out before then if possible. I've still got 3-6 POV characters to introduce, and I still have to cover the events of the actual rebellion, which should get kicked off in the next chapter.
Daemon had just finished sparring with his tutor, Bittersteel. "I'll make a man out of you yet, girl," Bittersteel had told the young Blackfyre prince. Ever since the incident involving Aegon, Aemon, and Daemon, The Black Dragon had had his third son on a rigorous training regimen. Of course, both Aegon and Aemon had been punished, but Daemon decided to nip the problem in the bud and make sure that the son who shared his name. I wish I could win the fights, Daemon thought as he walked through the ghostly halls of Black Harren's accursed fortress. He was planning to confront Aemon for not helping him. The jerk! I was only trying to help.
Daemon wound his way through the half-melted halls, until he passed his father and several men riding west. Behind The Black Dragon, Bittersteel, and Fireball, was a phalanx of armored men-at-arms sporting various sigils, with archers and peasant conscripts flanking them. Curious, Daemon stopped one of the peasants. "Where are you going," he asked the man.
The man hesitated, taking a moment to respond. "Yer young prince, we gonna go fuck ourselves some Red Dragon filth."
Fuck... that's an interesting word.
Another man approached, this time a man at arms, slapping the peasant on the back. "Excuse my simpleton friend's wretched language, your grace. We ride west to rendezvous with the Reynes of Castamere and crush Damon the Golden Lion's forces outside The Rock." With that the two men bowed and rejoined the Blackfyre host, the man-at-arms punching the peasant's shoulder.
Daemon finally registered that his father was going to do battle. He didn't know how to feel, other than worried. What if his father died? Or was injured? Or what if King Daeron captured his father? Daemon had never had anything but positive feelings about Daeron, but Daeron had tried to have them all arrested and murdered, hadn't he? That's what Bittersteel said, anyway.
Aegor Bittersteel #1:
Aegor noticed his brother wheel his horse around. Aegor followed without a word, as did Fireball and the mounted knights following Daemon. They rode past the column. Some 20,000 men were gathered here. Respectable, but not near what Daeron the Shithead can levy. Which is why we are heading west. The Blackfyre host had devised a plan to march through the southern kingdoms one by one and join the men of various aggrieved houses to their own. Eventually, enough of the realm will rally that an assault on King'd Landing will be possible.
For good measure, Aegor had had his co-conspirator, Lord Gorman Peake of the Cockleswhent, bring his forces to bear in the Reach. The Blackfyre men minted their own coins, as coinage is a sign of legitimacy, and Daemon Blackfyre needed as much of that as he could get. There, Lord Peake had used his Blackfyre dragons to hire the services of some 12,000 Essosi sellswords and some 3,000 hedge knights of the Reach. The Essosi had been smuggled through Rosby after a treacherous bannerman to Lord Rosby allowed the Tyroshi fleet to move through the city, sacking it of its riches and murdering Lord Rosby in the process.
Bittersteel had set his... no, his brother's, sellswords loose upon those Reachlords and Crownlords who refused to bend the knee to the Black Dragon, though he had followed Daemon's orders to leave the un-declared Stormlords alone for now...
They stopped beside Daemon the Younger. The Black Dragon dismounted and embraced his third son. If only he knew how fucked up his son actually was, he'd drown the little shit and be done with it. Kill the weaklings lest they drag you down. The Ironborn have at least one thing right. Aegor sighed. The boy hadn't taking well to swordplay, preferring his songs and mysteries to the art of dueling. He had smashed Daemon's harp -- the boy built another one. He had beat Daemon harshly -- Daemon continued. Hells, he had ordered Aegon to humiliate Daemon in front of the entire courtyard (not openly, of course, the heir of his brother was more amiable to deceit than his father), AND sent Daemon to watch Aegon and Aemon's sparring explicitly to trigger the ensuing fight. Nothing. The boy loved to sing like a woman. "Most boys grow into men, this one will grow into a woman," Aegor grunted quietly to himself, tightening his hands on his saddle grip in silent anger.
Aegor noticed Daemon pat his son affectionately on the shoulder before re-mounting next to Bittersteel. "What is it," The Black Dragon asked Aegor, noticing the disturbed look on Aegor's face.
"Nothing brother," Bittersteel replied, thinking of some story. "Some Blacksmith's daughter gave me a good time, and now my fucking cock itches."
Daemon Blackfyre rolled his eyes, and the two began riding back to the front of their column.
First, they must needs deal with a Tully force gathering in Peasedale, blocking their path.
Arion stared at the peasant before him, carefully weighing his judgement. The man's son's mutilated body had turned up missing in the woods near another farmer's house. Naturally the man blamed his neighbor, who denied all accusations. Both had struck Arion as convincing. I have to make some sort of ruling though, lest I look weak and incompetent in front of my bannermen.
His two sons, his Lannister son-in-law, and his daughter Myrcella stood amongst the crowd. "I, Arion of House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, Protector and Defender of the Stormlands and all in it, do hereby declare that the accused is..."
The doors to the Great Hall of Storm's End burst open, and in walked a man with silver hair lined with black. Probably a bastard of Aegon the Unworthy, Arion thought to himself. Everybody and their brother had heard of the exploits of their previous monarch. It seems I did well to keep my daughter and sister far from his wretched whore-infested court. Arion had actually received a summons shortly before he married his daughter to a son of House Lannister asking him to present her at court. He burned the letter and pretended it had never arrived.
Indeed, the Baratheon lord had been a womanizer in his day as well, who some said rivaled Aegon the Unworthy. However, age, humility, and zeal had tempered his lusts over the years. That, and the fact that few women wanted him, what with his graying hair, wrinkled face, and rounding stomach.
"Speak, good ser, lest I lose my patience for your interruptions," the Baratheon lord bellowed across the halls. The man, who had fair facial features, approached, wheezing.
"My lord, I come to inform you that Daemon Blackfyre seeks your support in a rebellion against his brother. He offers the hand of his maiden daughter in marriage between his youngest daughter, Princess Merela, and your grandson, the heir of you heir, Lyonel Baratheon.
The court was shocked. Eyes turned between him and the messenger, in rapid order. The messenger hesitated, further catching his breath before continuing. "The bastard prince offers you a letter, for your eyes only, explaining his case." The messenger drew a scrolled up piece of paper marked with a black dragon seal and approached Baratheon. Arion's guards rushed to intercept the man, but Arion waved them off, raising from his seat and accepting the piece of paper from the man.
Lord Arion, of the noble House Baratheon, I am Daemon of the newly formed House Blackfyre. Blood and Fire are my words, and a black dragon on a field of red is my sigil. Arion skipped over some of the pleasantries that were common-sense. Over the years, he had grown less and less fond of titles and such nonsense wastes of space, ink, and time.
My brother, Good King Daeron, has attempted to falsely imprison me. He has threatened the lives of my family and friends without provocation. He has married my fair sister Daenerys to the Dornish who have, for millennia, raided your lands and murdered your vassals, bannermen, and subjects without justification. Daeron the Good is no good king. A good king seeks justice for his vassals and subjects, while Daeron has sought naught but insult on his vassals, branding them "racists" in several royal decrees. Though I am bastard born, My father made me legitimate by both the Laws of the Faith and the Laws of the Throne. The affair between my uncle and aunt are well-known, as is the fact that I am the eldest of Aegon IV's legitimized bastards.
Further, my 'brother' has clearly proven himself a bastard. As proof, I submit that I have seven sons, for the Seven Gods, a divine sign of my right to rule, and the endorsement of many lords of the realm. I also submit that I recently won a battle over the Lord of the West, Damon Lannister, capturing the man after defeating him in single combat. Your family by marriage, the Lannisters, are shattered for their support of Daeron Falseborn. I know your daughter Myrcella is wed to a Lannister. As such, I am prepared to name him Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West if you support my cause.
I am better by merit, I am better by birth, and I am better by honor and by blood, than Daeron Falseborn, bastard son of the Dragonknight. I also offer your grandson, Lyonel, the hand of my youngest daughter, the fair Princess Merela.
May all true men declare for me. I've heard rumors that you are a true man, Lord Lyonel. Which is why I write to you.
Lyonel Baratheon considered the letter. The court remained silent.
Arion rose from his seat. "The Dornish will pay for their raids in the Marches," Baratheon shouted, much to the joy of all lords present, save the Dondarrions, who had a daughter married to the Targaryen heir, Baelor Breakspear.
"Call the banners!" Arion shouted. "WE RIDE WITH THE BLACK DRAGON!"
Daena the Defiant #1:
Princess Daena was the wonder of her age. The sister of the most famous (or infamous, depending on your views of them) kings in recent memory, The Young Dragon and Baelor the Blessed, Daena was the most beautiful of her siblings by far.
Of course her sisters had support Daeron the Good. Neither of them had ever shared her ambitions. They were weak, and she was strong. Stronger than all of them. In her youth, she had loved her brother dearly -- had even hoped to marry him. The Young Dragon was a legend, and a prize for all women to lust for.
She had never been a 'lustful' girl. Her in her youth, she had eyes only for her brother, but when The Young Dragon decided to use his hand in marriage as a bargaining chip with the Dornish, she had been inconsolable. He betrothed her to her other brother, Baelor, the pious weakling. When wed, he refused to perform his 'marital' duties, and when Baelor became king, he dissolved his marriage and locked his sisters in a dark vault, allowing them no contact with the outside world lest they be "defiled by wicked men."
Daena never was the sort to put up with nonsense. She snuck out a number of times, and, the final time before Baelor's death, she decided to fuck her cousin Aegon and get with child by him, partially out of spite, and partially out of desire for a child.
Her actions incited Blessed Brother Baelor to fast himself to death. Probably better for everybody, given that he was preparing to wage war against the North and the Ironborn over their lack of acceptance of The Seven. What did she receive for her efforts? The condemnation of the nobility. When Baelor died, she was the rightful heiress. But many pointed to her unborn child -- the child that had already saved the realm before even being born -- and claimed that he disqualified her from the throne.
Wicked Viserys passed her, claiming the throne. Of course, he didn't long outlive his decision... her cousin had convinced her to help him murder Viserys through poison, which she gleefully did. However, rather than setting his sister aside and wedding her as he promised, Aegon the Whoremonger had denounced their son as somebody else's bastard, and refused to acknowledge or legitimize Daemon.
Even now, she imagined that some of Daeron's supporters claimed that she 'poisoned Daemon's ears against the rightful kin' or some other such nonsense. Maybe she did, and maybe she didn't, but it wouldn't matter once Daemon was king.
Daena stood in attendance with the war council. They had camped on a ridge for the night, having little time to stay and enjoy the fine wines they sacked from Casterly Rock.
Her son's strategy demanded speed and precision, as the mercenaries in the south would prevent Tyrell forces from moving to defend the capital, while Daemon himself would lead his host south, take Highgarden, and catch the Tyrells in the rear.
All Lord Baratheon had to do was hold the Kingsroad while sending half of his forces to link up with Daemon's mercenaries. Battles raged all over the Reach, and the plan appeared to be working.
At least, it was until 13,000 Tyrell troops fell upon the Blackfyre sellswords from the rear, causing them to retreat into the Stormlands whilst Daemon, Bittersteel, Fireball, and Daena rushed with the main Blackfyre army, cutting a bloody swathe through the Targaryen partisans who dared to get in their way.
Eventually, they'd reached their current position, with some fourty thousand Blackfyre loyalists gathered to the west, with countless smaller armies from Daemon's supporters in the Reach burning the Crownlands to the ground in the east. Recently, they'd received word that 8,000 Tyrell forces were fighting Baratheon's 7,000 on the Kingsroad. In response, Lord Peake was dispatched with 7,000 of his own men to reinforce Lord Baratheon before nightfall.
4,600 Hightower men were heading up to re-inforce the Yronwood men besieging Castle Roseford.
"DAEMON, THIS IS MADNESS!" Fireball shouted, disturbing Daena from her thoughts.
"No, my friend, this is the height of sobriety," Daemon countered. "The Usurper Daeron is caught unawares, as he was expecting us to bypass the Tyrells and head north along the Kingsroad. Lords Baratheon and Peake have him distracted. We take the capital, capture Daeron, and end the war in one fell swoop."
Aegor spoke up. "I second that. I'm sick and fucking tired of fighting these Targaryen weaklings. None of the shits know how to fight, not a lord or peasant among them."
Daena considered the environment on the council. Were she not careful, she could lose allies on the future small council, and worse, lose the ability to council her beloved son. Daemon was her everything, the very reason she crafted for herself to continue living. Without her son, she would be lost.
"I think I agree with Daemon," she said, deciding that Fireball would serve her purposes less than Bittersteel, as the former would be a mere Kingsguard, while the latter would be a Great Lord and a Council Member of much notoriety.
Redtusk spoke up next. "Okay, say we go through with this plan, what shall we do when Lords Arryn and the remainder of the Tullys fall on us? You've read the letter, same as I, and we both know that Lord Bracken is spent. He can't hold the Targaryen loyalists with guerilla warfare any longer. We need a gods-damned plan Daemon. You're my friend, but you can be stubborn as a damn ass sometimes." Several lesser lords gasped that Daemon let his future kingsguard talk to him like that. Daena assumed that her son probably preferred honesty over censorship and deceit, a trait that, while she respected, she would have to work out of him if he was ever to hold his throne.
Aegor Bittersteel shouted, slamming his fists on the council table. "COWARDS WARFARE, you mean?" He sat back down before continuing. "Our king is no coward. Daemon will meet the falseborns in battle, and he will prevail. Any more questions, my lords?" Bittersteel's query was more a statement than an inquiry.
When nobody answered, Daemon said, in his usual authoritative tone, "It is done then. Retire for the night lords of my council, for we have a long march tomorrow."
The Kindhearted King:
Daeron the Good. At least, that's what they called him before they turned on him. He had sent the court away, to sit on the throne in silence, by himself. Rumors spread to the capital that Daemon Blackfyre, his bastard brother, had captured Casterly Rock and Lord Damon Lannister. Additionally, rumors had reached him that Lord Tyrell was in chains at the hands of the treacherous Baratheons.
Daeron wondered where he went wrong. He had tried to be a good king, a just king. He had showered his bastard brothers with honors and titles where lesser men would have sent them to the Wall or the Septs or the Citadel. He had offered to arrange them advantageous marriages, both for their statuses and for the good of the realm. Was it the only time he chose the good of the realm over his brothers' feelings, when he married Daenerys to Prince Maron?
Did so many people truly consider the greater good to be so bad that war was the only alternative?
Bittersteel was behind this. Bloodraven, the Master of Whispers, had said as much. When Shiera had wed Bloodraven, Bittersteel had been furious. He had vowed to "make them pay." Daemon was unsettled by his younger brother getting to marry for love whilst he had to marry for duty.
If only Daeron had understood then what he understood now...
If only Daeron had known what trickery Bittersteel would use to turn the family against itself...
Tens of thousands of lives would have been saved. If only he knew what would have happened, if he had forseen it, then the realm wouldn't be bleeding. And he wouldn't be about to be overthrown.
Word had reached the capital. A host led by Bloodraven had been shattered by The Black Dragon, who was last reported heading north... for King's Landing!
Aegor surveyed the bodies with a grimace. Lord Stokeworth, Daeron II's Hand (the Bastard King had replaced Lord Butterwell with Stokeworth shortly after Daemon's escape), had been leading a group of men south through the capital, the last great bastion of Crownland forces under Targaryen command. Stokeworth had made the foolhardy decision to pass his soldiers by a nominally loyalist castle that had turned cloak to Daemon. When Bittersteel and Daemon fell on the Hand, there were massive numbers of casualties... for the Targaryens. Trapped between a rock in Drakescastle and a hammer (in Daemon), the royalists lost nigh over half their predicted forces before Stokeworth sounded the retreat.
What a waste, Bittersteel thought to himself as he surveyed the carnage. Before him was a man wearing Targaryen colors mixed with those of some minor knightly house. How well these knights might have served me... no, Daemon, Aegor thought. Though he held little regard for human life, outside his own, Bittersteel could see the value in having the good men who died under Daeron on his side in the future.
Daena the Defiant #1:
Daena sat in her chambers at the Darkfort, the holding of her son prior to the rebellion. With the main Targaryen thrusts cleared out, the castle had become safe for members of Daemon's family once more. She had had her grandchildren, as well as Queen Rohanne of Tyrosh brought back from their safe-hold in the Hightower to accompany her.
Daena had disliked her daughter-in-law from the start. Rohanne was willful, but lazy, and lacked the drive to be a good queen. At the very least, the bitch Daenerys would have been of the right blood and shy stature to be her son's consort. Daemon had refused to hear anything of putting the girl aside, however. Daena knew Daemon shared her distaste for Rohanne, but he refused to dishonor his name or his wife and children through divorce. "Besides," Daemon had said. "Daenerys is married with kids of her own."
Dornish bastards. The world could use a few less of those anyway, Daena had reasoned, but Daemon had sent her away. My son lacks the stomach to do what has to be done.
At this moment, Queen Rohanne walked in. Behind her was a wetnurse, holding her most recent child, Princess Merela, in her arms. The slothful whore had refused to nurse her own children!
Beside Rohanne, was her son Aerion, to the right, and Aerys, to the left. They were young, barely able to walk, and only recently weaned.
The boys were within a year of each other. The Maesters in King's Landing had said they were "the most robust little lads ever born of the Targaryen line, save perhaps their father." Daena had to admit, they did look strong for their age. Luckily, most of her line had taken after her, she noted proudly. Her son... he was like her brother...
She sighed, pushing things that could have been from her mind.
"Lady Rohanne, glad to see you've finally decided to join me. I only summoned you hours ago."
Rohanne stared back, indignantly. "May I remind you, I am the queen, you are the Queen Mother!"
"I birthed the king, and he is mine to do with as I please!" Daena was in Rohanne's face now, screaming in anger. How could this Tyroshi whore not see her obvious superiority? Her right to her son!
"AND I FUCKED THE KING, so I think he's more inclined to listen to me over his bitter mother who talks of whores and yet birthed a bastard and a half!"
At that, Daena slapped Rohanne. The nerve of the girl, talking of my miscarriage!
A man barged in. "Your graces..." he noticed the angry stares back and forth between the two women. The atmosphere was tense, and Aerion started crying.
Finally, after what felt like the longest moment, Rohanne broke the staring contest. "She's not worth the effort," Rohanne said, looking briefly back to Daena. "What's wrong?"
This had better be damned good, Daena thought, as it saved that cunt from my wrath!
The man led the Queen and the Queen Mother out onto the balcony of the castle. Before the walls, was encamped a massive Targaryen host flying the red dragon banners mixed with the falcon banners of the Vale.
Lord Donnel Arryn, had arrived in the field.
Aegor Bittersteel #2:
Aegor sat beside Daemon, Fireball, Redtusk, and Ser Reyne. This is the end, he thought. The loyalists can't afford any more losses. Win this, and win the throne.
The wide fields extended in all directions around the Darkfort, broken by a small village called Carpenter's Town. Fireball and Baratheon led a contingent of knights against the Arryn host before them, while Daemon and himself, complemented by Reyne and Crakehall, led the rest of the Blackfyre host against Lord Arryn's main camp in the Carpenter Town.
Bittersteel looked to his left as he was riding ahead of a column of knights and infantrymen. "Keep up Princess, prove yourself a man in battle!" Daemon the Younger, Bittersteel's squire, tried to keep up, but his horse refused to go any faster, so Bittersteel left him in the dust. Mayhaps an archer will kill the twat before the battle ends... Aegor pulled himself out of his fantasy. Not now. Now, we have a battle to win. And, with any luck, a raven to kill.
The column led by Bittersteel swung to the northwest, while the column led by Fireball and Baratheon swung straight for the Targaryen siege lines around the castle. Daemon led a flanking maneuver around the town, while Bittersteel kept the Targaryen forces occupied to the south of Daemon's position.
After much bloodshed on both sides, the gates to the castle opened...
Daena the Defiant #2
Daena sat on her stallion, with her knights behind her. The Tyroshi's knees had buckled at the thought of combat! An unworthy queen! The strength of her grandchildren certainly came from Daena, rather than their ill-bred whore of a mother! The gates slowly opened. The sound of men dying, of injured horses whining suddenly boomed into her face. Nothing's like it, she thought with a smile. She hadn't fought since Daeron took her on that tour of Dorne and she had saved him from an assassin. They would have never killed him had I not been there.
Daena stormed out, leading her column of knights into the fray. First one, then another Targaryen soldier fell, unaware of the Blackfyre forces sortying behind them. A hundred infantrymen, the majority of the garrison, ran out and into the siege trenches, stabbing the Targaryen men in their exposed backs, and sending their forces into disarray, routing them.
As Daena sortied into the Targaryen lines, and their center flank collapsed, Daemon's force in the north destroyed the Targaryen forces, with Aegor's thrust absorbing most of the Targaryen resistance in the fields of Carpenter Town and preventing them from mounting a credible defense against Daemon.
Aegor Bittersteel #3
Aegor swung high, but was blocked by the mysterious knight sporting Targaryen colors and black armor. The knight pressed into Aegor's defense, pushing the bitter knight back step by step. Fucker's good.
The battle raged all around them, with this being his third charge into the Targaryen lines. His third bloody charge. Finally, the knight go the better of him and disarmed Bittersteel.
"Time to die, traitor," the mystery knight said, raising his sword to strike the deathly blow. However, the sword dropped from the knight's hand, beside Aegor. Both Bittersteel and the knight shifted their gaze to the knight's stomach... a sword protruded from it, wedged upwards in between a damaged gap in the armor. The knight fell from his knees, gargling blood. Behind the mystery knight, stood Daemon the Younger.
Donnel continued to kill the endless wave of Blackfyre men pushing against his position. After a while, he seemed to forget himself in the fighting. It had degenerated from an ordered and tactical combat into a mob of death. Everything had gone to hell!
"LORD ARRYN," a man shouted behind him, mounted on a black horse with black dragon wings for ears. "Face me."
"You intend to cut me down from your steed," Arryn shouted at Blackfyre. "How honorable," he mocked.
Daemon flinched, and dismounted. "No, Lord Arryn, I don't need a horse to defeat you. Call your armies off, order a surrender, and mayhaps the day might yet end well for you.
"Traitors and bastards," Arryn responded, anger welling up in him as the men he had been charged to protect and defend died under Blackfyre swords. "The lot of you." Lord Arryn paced back and forth now, his falcon helm shining in the midday sun, screams of pain and death in the background fading into silence as he prepared for combat.
"As it may be," Daemon responded, drawing Blackfyre. "So it is."
And with that, the combat began. Blades flashed, as Daemon and Donnel parried each other. Neither man was incompetent, but The Black Dragon was soon shown to be the better. Arryn's blade was dulling, bending, with every collision with Blackfyre. His arms rang with each defense. Finally, his blade shattered.
Donnel dodged, barely saving himself from being cut in two. The falcon helm flew off with the force of the fall, but now lying weaponless before Daemon.
Donnel quickly scanned the surroundings, before spotting his saving grace -- a sword from a fallen bannerman of his.
He lunged for it, only to feel a sharp spike of pain shoot up his leg as Daemon laid the blunt end of Blackfyre on Arryn's ankle with the force of a great beast. Arryn shouted into the air, his scream drowned out in the sounds of his men dying. Part of the blade dug into his calve as Daemon applied more force. "YIELD!"
"So that you may throw me in a cell, bastard king?"
Arryn's voice possessed a ring of despair, shamed by his defeat at the hands of a bastard. Daemon sheathed Blackfyre.
"Let us end this bloodshed, my lord. Bend the knee and order your remaining men to surrender. Fulfill your role as Protector of the Vale and protect it from more blood and fire... and I shall confirm you in it."
"And my cell," Arryn responded.
"Shall be appropriate to your rank. You have my word, on my honor as a knight." Daemon reached his hand out, offering to pull Arryn to his feet.
"On the honor of a bastard," Arryn said, taking Daemon's hand.
"RAPE THE WOMEN AND GIVE THE CHILDREN TO THE SLAVE SHIPS!!!" shouted the Archon of Tyrosh, sitting beside Bittersteel. The gates had been overwhelmed by Blackfyre partisans some hours ago. A thick layer of smoke accompanied by the scent of burning flesh masked the smell of shit that usually permeated the gutters of the city. Bittersteel had been sent ahead, in advance of Daemon to take the city for his arrival. He had been met by 14,000 Tyroshi sellswords sacking the capital and besieging the Red Keep. Archon Oro had been intent on making his support of his son-in-law a profitable venture, and for his part, Bittersteel was content in allowing it. So far, ten thousand children had been brought to the Tyroshi fleet anchored in Blackwater Bay and sent back to Tyrosh.
Daemon the Younger looked up at Bittersteel. The boy has proven his usefulness for now, Bittersteel thought to himself. Perhaps he isn't such a worthless dolt after all? I'll take him under my wing... He'll make a better puppet than those twats Aegon and Aemon. Daemon the Younger spoke up. "Why are you allowing grandfather to do this."
"Because it's necessary, boy. If you play the game of thrones you must be ruthless and pragmatic. Kill any cunt who opposes you, and sell his manhood to the Red Priests, his sons to the Ghiscari, and his daughters to the Lyseni for good measure."
"But what of the crown?" Daemon the Younger asked, referring to the gilded crown worn by the Archon of Tyrosh. The Crown of King Aenys I. "Payment for his daughter's hand," Oro had said when he captured a man with it. From what Aegor had put together, some of the guards had tried to loot the Royal Treasury and escape. He'd had the deserters flayed alive and hung on the battlements of the broken King's Gate. A warning to those who would steal from us. However, Oro had refused to hand it back over to the Blackfyre host. Aegor called it a "gift from King Daemon," but in reality he merely lacked the power to take what was theirs from the Tyroshi. The Westerosi Blackfyre loyalists were in the minority here.
"A price worth paying," was Bittersteel's brief reply.
"What is the meaning of this?" A man asked with a deep, authoritative voice that Bittersteel recognized as his elder brother's.
"The meaning of this, is you have your bloody throne." And with that, Bittersteel rode off with Daemon's son, to help the Tyroshi take the Red Keep.
The Broken King:
Daeron sat on his throne once more, staring blankly at the pricks on the Iron Throne. It has all fallen apart. He had sent his sons to Dragonstone. His wife had refused to accompany them, despite his protestations. Unfortunately, he had been unable to smuggle his grandsons, Valarr and Matarys out of the Red Keep. There were too many slavers patrolling the streets of the city proper. Likewise, Aerys had said that the prophesies foretold a Targaryen victory, and had refused to bend in his desire to stay in the Red Keep. He had taken to watching over Valarr and Matarys.
A good man, if not the brightest.
The sound of silence permeated the palace, as the inevitable slowly approached. Daeron had never been as studious in strategy or swordplay as his infamous cousin of the same name. However, with the King's Gate and the Mud Gate having fallen, and the Red Keep having been surrounded for a fortnight, he knew it was merely a matter of time until Maegor's Keep was breached.
After much time had passed, he could hear footsteps in the halls outside the empty court, then shouts. His Kingsguard had been sent to sacrifice themselves to defend the gates of the Red Keep as long as possible. However, it was obviously not the kingsguard in the halls. Familiar voices echoed through the empty halls. Finally, three men with familiar armor burst through the doors.
"Ser Ball," Daeron began. "Pleasure to see you again."
"Shut your mouth, usurper, lest I shut it for you."
Beside the man wearing the sigil of House Ball on his armor was the King's half-Bracken brother, Bittersteel.
Daeron felt his grip on the pronged wrist -rests of the Iron Throne tighten. A drop of blood dripped onto the ground below him.
"I am the blood of the dragon," Daeron began, fuming.
"As am I," a man interrupted, stepping forward. The man removed his black dragon helm -- Daemon Blackfyre. The would-be king, once one of Daeron's most leal knights.
"You know, Daemon, he lied to you," Daeron began, pointing to Bittersteel. "He lied to you.
"I believe my eyes, Daeron. And my eyes tell me you lie."
Aegor and Fireball began to approach the throne rapidly.
"They told you I wanted you dead, but..."
Daeron was pulled from the throne and, as fast as the sciences allowed, was thrown to the ground. Immediately he began shouting. "DAEMON, THEY LIED!" repeatedly as Bittersteel and Fireball dragged the kindhearted king out of the throne room.
Daeron stared back as Daemon watched his brother and friend drag him to the Black Cells. "YOU ARE A COWARD, DAEMON!" He shouted. "A MAN WITHOUT HONOR! A MAN WHO ONLY..."
A sharp pain consumed Daeron, followed by an unbearable throbbing. Then blackness.
Excerpt from "The Rise of the Black Dragon," by Maester Mellos:
Though few could doubt the ill-birth of King Daeron the Bastard, an equally small number could doubt the cruelty that war inflicts on the innocents. So it was, on that fateful day on the eve of the 196th year after the Conqueror was crowned in Oldtown, tragedy befell the ousted royal family.
While Daemon himself was relatively humane in his dealings with his cousin's family, the same could not be said of the Tyroshi, nor his follower Lord Peake.
Perhaps in the hope of gaining further favor with the new regime (and, if rumors hold, a betrothal between his son and Princess Daenerys), Lord Peake entered the chambers of Prince Aerys. What befell the heirs of Daeron must sadly be spoken within these scrolls.
Rumors abound that Aelinor Penrose, the wife of Prince Aerys, was sold as a slave to the Tyroshi brothels. The young princes Valarr and Matarys were brutally murdered, as was the Prince Aerys himself.
The honorable Prince Baelor's wife fell defending her sons.
I lost the save file for this game when it got corrupted. I could finish it, but there would be no satisfying conclusion. Basically, the story ended up like this:
1.) Daemon I goes to Dorne and gets murdered secretly by Bittersteel. Aegor becomes LP of Riverlands.
2.) Half insane and cruel Aegon continues the war.
3.) Daemon the Younger murders Aegon and Daenerys and usurps the throne.
4.) Aemon and Haegon pushed their claim for the throne. Haegon swore a vow to avenge his sister and lost love Daenerys.
5.) They win. Aemon becomes king and Haegon beats Daemon to death.
6.) Haegon is made Prince of Dragonstone.
7.) Aemon is assassinated by Bloodraven, Haegon becomes king.
8.) Baelor Breakspear invades Westeros with mercenaries and Dorne.
9.) Haegon dies in personal combat to Bloodraven after putting down a dozen minor rebellions because he is a kinslayer.
10.) Aenys Blackfyre becomes king.
11.) Aenys defeats the Targaryen restoration.
12.) Aenys dies some years later of the flu after a long and peaceul reign.
13.) The Targs conquer the Stepstones under Maekar and make it their Kingdom in Exile.
14.) Aenys is inherited by his eldest son by a Lannister, Jaehaerys 'the Weak.' Jaehaerys weak of body but strong of mind, invades Dorne to prove his rule to doubtful lords.
15.) Jaehaerys legitimized his two eldest bastard sons by a Bittersteel -- Aegon Goldfyre and Daeron Truedrake in spite of objections by his sister-wife. He grants his eldest son by his sister-wife (Prince Daemon) Dragonstone and arranges a marriage between Daemon and a strong Baratheon girl.
16.) In order to make peace with the Targs, Jaehaerys marries Aegon Goldfyre (his heir) to a Targaryen granddaughter of Maekar and niece to the Prince of Dorne. Daeron Truedrake is married to a Florent. A pro-Aegon faction forms, as does a pro-Daemon.
17.) After a peaceful 20 year rule, Jaehaerys dies with 4 sons: Aegon Goldfyre, Daeron Truedrake, Daemon Blackfyre, and Viserys Blackfyre.
18.) Daemon rebels against Aegon, with the support of the Baratheons, the Arryns, the Hightowers, and the Westerlands.
19.) Aegon has the support of the Bittersteels, Daeron Truedrake, the Florents (LP of Reach), the Dornish, the Targaryens, the North, and the Iron Isles and holds the throne.
This is when the save corrupted. Anyway, this was fun to write while it lasted.
'A Game of Thrones' is a user modification for Crusader Kings II not affiliated in anyway with Paradox Interactive or the rights holders to 'Game of Thrones' and 'A Song of Ice and Fire'.
This modification and it's team takes no income or profit, whether it be through donations, advertisements or any other form of revenue.