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Chapter 11Notes:Hey, I'm back!

It's been a few weeks, and I've finally finished my exams. I'm pumped to get back into it.

Let's do this.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter TextHarrenhal - 43 AC

"Your Grace-"

"Silence, Lord Harroway. Your king is speaking. Tell me, how did a boy not two and ten manage to enter my chambers unnoticed?"

"W-well you see, Your Grace, the youth exploited a unique gap in our defenses. I had my men primed to guard against significant threats, assassins sent by your nephews, or one of your many foes. H-Harenhal is the largest castle in the realm, Your Grace, and my men were spread so thin guarding against threats-"

"Enough. I'm tired of your excuses. If it weren't for my dear Alys, you'd be dead already."

Lord Harroway stayed silent, as did the rest of the hall. Lords Tully and Harroway seemed uncomfortable at best, while the newly arrived Lords Butterwell and Darry were downright terrified. Maegor's second wife and her counterpart, Alys Harroway, sat across from Tyanna and was still stunned from Androw's invasion of her chambers. Maegor was smoldering and did not seem to be letting up. Outside the door were two kingsguard, alert, on guard, and ashamed.

"Your Grace," began Lord Butterwell, "I can't help but notice that the intruder left a gash along your person. Should I call for a maester?"

"You shall do no such thing." Maegor hissed. "I shall not be felled by a nick such as this, especially one delivered by a child."

Alys seemed to awaken from her slumber, and she made eye contact with Tyanna. "And just who was this child, may I ask?"

Seeing her opportunity, Tyanna stood, slowly making her way over to Maegor, where she draped herself across his back. "The boy's name is Androw Farman, of Fair Isle."

Maegor leaned into Tyanna's touch, outwardly unconcerned with the revelation. Tyanna knew that it didn't matter what house Androw was from unless he was of extreme importance. If the boy had been a Lannister or a Hightower, perhaps Maegor would have reacted. He lacked the focus or perception to realize the lesser houses mattered just as much as the greater ones and would act accordingly.

The assorted lords blubbered and protested at the revelation, each coming to personal conclusions about both Tyanna and the would-be assassin. Butterwell thought her a witch, Tully was amused, and Harroway was furious.

Lord Darry, on the other hand, knew the name and had something to say about it. "If I'm not incorrect, Your Grace, Androw Farman is the very same Farman who spurred Fair Isle's new glass trade. The Westerlands and surrounding kingdoms have been buying in bulk for some time now, all because of him."

"Ah, you see, Y-Your Grace? This Androw Farman is a genius, a child inventor! No wonder he was able to b-break through our defenses."

Lord Tully snorted. "The only reason the lad got this far was your incompetence, Lord Lucas. Don't give him all the credit."

Lord Lucas gave Lord Tully a baleful glare. "Watch how you speak, Tully. You may be Lord Paramount, I am the Hand of the King!"

For whatever reason, that set Maegor off. "No you aren't… not anymore."

Tyanna allowed herself a modicum of amusement at the shocked look on the former Hand's face and the hidden panic of Alys. In an instant, her family had lost nearly all the influence they'd gained at court. The Hand had been ruling the realm in Maegor's stead for some time, and it seemed as if that time was over.

And the song begins to change. All thanks to you, Walker.

"In his place, I name Lord Prentys Tully of Riverrun as my Hand of the King."

The Lord Paramount of the Trident started, wine cup sloshing in his hand as he suddenly stood, then knelt. Tyanna knew this was a most terrifying prospect for the man, who preferred to stay as far from King's Landing as possible. The fool. Supporting Maegor was a one-way trip to the grave.

"You honor me, Your Grace."

Maegor ignored him, already moving forward in the conversation. Ever since he'd begun to rely on her spark for life he'd been like this, driven by his baser emotions and uncaring about the others around him. It would only get worse from this point.

"And the boy, Your Grace? Will he be executed?" asked Lord Darry, still shaky. He wished to change the subject, that was clear.

Maegor regarded him, eyes fiery. "This boy… Androw Farman… interests me. I will not have him killed, not yet. He is but a child, and still moldable." Tyanna let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. He will continue to tread his path. "Tyanna." She perked up. "Tell me about House Farman."

"Gladly, Your Grace. There are six in the main line, five men, one girl. The eldest is Lord Humphrey, who has two sons, Flement and Marq, both knights. Marq has three children, Franklyn, Elissa, and Androw. Androw is the youngest at one and ten, while the rest are some years older. A cadet line also exists in Fairport."

Lothar Butterwell was petrified. "How… how does she know that?" he whimpered.

"SILENCE!" roared Maegor, springing away from Tyanna and shoving the Lord of Whitewalls into a table, sending a platter of fish, fruit, and cheese crashing to the ground alongside him. The King staggered, taking a half step to recover. He looked around, blearily. The nightshade was getting to him.

Butterwell was shaking, the sheer menace excluded from Maegor being enough to terrify the lesser lord. Maegor's eyes were dilated, and a rash was beginning to spread up his neck. His wound was oozing pus.

"As of now, House Farman is the third-richest house in the Westerlands, behind House Lannister and their assorted branches, then House Reyne. They possess four vassals, none of any importance, and control the second-largest fleet behind that of Lannisport's."

Fixating on her, Maegor stood and stalked across the room. Everyone else was still. His mass filled her vision, shoulders heaving. The Targaryen dragon roared defiantly on his tunic, and his violet eyes glared down at her.

Slowly, carefully, she slid her hand up his chest, splaying her fingers to sink into his musculature. Together, they took deep, calming breaths, drawing in and out for a solid minute.

"The Farmans march against you, beneath King Aegon's banner. Lord Humphrey leads them, as well as his heir, Flement, and his grandson, Franklyn. Ser Marq holds Fair Isle. Androw is here.

Maegor exhaled, long and shuddering. "They will burn. The lord, his heir, his grandson. I will make sure of it."

"As is your right, as king. With their deaths, Ser Marq will be lord, and Androw his heir. Your plan, to keep the boy, will tie down the sails of the West."

Maegor nodded, and gave a weak smile. "Thank you, Tyanna."

"Anytime."

And the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms collapsed like a puppet with his strings cut. The room erupted with shouts, gasps, and cries. Lord Harroway fainted.

Tyanna sighed, knelt, and straddled Maegor's body. "Lord Prentys, please remove your fallen vassal. Everyone else?"

The flames of a thousand candles surged, flickering up the walls. "Clear the room."

Pinkmaiden - 44 AC

Broken men arrived at Pinkmaiden in droves, scorched and shattered. They were covered in ash and spoke only in gasps and whispers about what had transpired. It seemed as if they had run for days, and many muttered of 'The Dread' and nothing else.

The lords and knights who had led them west did not return with them, having fallen or been captured in the battles. The Battle Beneath the God's Eye they were calling it, an exceedingly generous name, for it seemed far more like a slaughter than any battle.

Survivors gathered beneath Pinkmaiden's battlements, in the remnants of Aegon's war camp. Where Quicksilver had once flown to the sound of cheers, there was naught but the pained cries of soldiers, and the sobs of the grieved. From the walls where Rhaena stood, one could see just how many had fled. Just how many had abandoned her brother.

Rhaena should have been there.

Her fool of a brother had listened to his lords, to the stern Myles Smallwood and rough Qarl Corbray, both of whom dismissed her outright. Aegon had always been the most sentimental of them all and agreed wholeheartedly when the lords had demanded she be kept from the fight. Kept away from Maegor.

It wasn't as if Rhaena wanted to face her uncle again. He'd been a looming threat throughout the entirety of her childhood, and Father's death had only cemented that fear. Maegor's desire for the throne was obvious to anyone who met him, and after Father had died he'd been given exactly what he wanted. Rhaena, Aegon, and the twins were all threats to Maegor's claim, and she knew the Dread would have come for them sooner or later.

Dreamfyre was no Balerion, she knew, but her dragon was not much smaller than Quicksilver, and Rhaena herself was a far more experienced rider. Had she been allowed to accompany her husband, they could have won the day. Her uncle's death would have broken the Crownlander and Harroway forces, and the Tullys and Reachers wouldn't have stood on their own against the combined might of two dragons and their supporters.

But that hadn't happened. Aegon had met Maegor over on the God's Eye, and he'd fallen.

"Idiot," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Why did you have to leave me behind?"

And it wasn't just Aegon, either. Melony, her sweet darling, had marched off alongside the men, with support from Lord Jon Piper behind her. Where Aegon caved to his lords, Jon stood firm behind his sister's will to fight, and the two worked together to rally as many Piper soldiers as they could.

If only Rhaena could have come with them.

None of the guards stopped her as she strode from the battlements, the guard Aegon had left with her following behind. All the Lords who might have gotten in her way were dead or missing, which meant there was no one left in the castle to stop her from getting as far away from Maegor as possible.

Her husband was dead. Her children, her sweet girls were spread to the wind by trusted allies, where even she couldn't find them. Viserys, Jaehaerys, and Alysanne were on Dragonstone with Mother and were safe for the time being.

Rhaena needed to make herself scarce.

She turned to Ser Addam Waters, her loyal protector and an unofficial member of Aegon's Kingsguard. He was a bastard born of House Sunglass and had been with them on their progress in the Westerlands when father had died. While others had deserted for Maegor, he had stayed true and had remained with her all this time.

"Ser Addam. You, the men, and my handmaidens need to leave Pinkmaiden immediately. With Aegon dead, the next in line is Aerea, who is who knows where. Safety is our number one priority."

The grizzly man swallowed, acutely uncomfortable. "And yourself, my Queen? You shall stay at Pinkmaiden?"

"No, that would be foolish and you know I am above that. I shall depart as well, on Dreamfyre. I mean for Maegor to lose my trail, and the only way I can do that is to move undetected."

"Where will you go, Your Grace?"

"Best not share. We have all heard rumors about Maegor, his sorcerous mother, and his witch-queen of a wife. Who knows what horrors they might inflict on you if you knew where I was?"

"That is likely best. Shall we leave now?"

"Yes. As soon as you can."

As Addam began to turn away, Rhaena threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. The chain mail that was his standard garb was somewhat uncomfortable, but she cared not.

"My Queen-"

"Oh, fuck propriety, Ser Addam. You are a true knight and a loyal friend. Thank you for everything."

His voice seemed to catch in his throat. "I- you are welcome, Your Grace. Safe travels."

After packing her and Aegon's shared coin and family heirlooms, Rhaena mounted up on Dreamfyre with utmost haste. As they took off and Pinkmaiden grew smaller and smaller, she let out a long, shuddering sob.

And turned west, towards Fair Isle.

Notes:So that's the end of our first arc and the introduction of the story. As Tyanna remarks, Androw's presence has begun to make ripples in the timeline, and things have started to change. We also see another introduced POV in this chapter, with Rhaena Targaryen joining our POV cast. This should be the last one for the time being, but we might get more in a few arcs.