High Tide, Chapter 56: The Moon is Beautiful (Patreon)

First Moon, 120 AC

Rhaenys

A new year had dawned on House Targaryen, and with it came a new decade. And in this new decade, Rhaenys was determined to seize back the initiative. No longer would her house be left to simply react to everything the Velaryons had done. No, for the first time in years, decades even, House Targaryen would take the initiative, they would act first, and the Velaryons would be the ones left scrambling to respond to their glorious accomplishments.

Her father sat regally upon the Iron Throne, looking every inch a king. He was turning sixty and five this year but he was still hale and hearty and hopefully would have many years more to live. Though they had had their disagreements in the past, Rhaenys still adored her father and was proud of him, and in the past few years they had been increasingly in agreement again. Especially in this matter.

“I bring word from my liege, the radiant Prince Qoren of Dorne,” the Dornishman began. “To King Aemon Targaryen, Dorne remains Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken. We reject your terms, your unjust request for our fealty and submission, your tyrannical demand that Prince Qoren abdicate the princeship to you and your house and do profess our disappointment that a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror would break the treaty of eternal peace and friendship that he signed with us. If it is the submission of Dorne and House Martell that you desire O Dragon King, you will have to come and take it and see for yourself why even the Conqueror knew better than to step on the snake’s tail.”

Her father snorted upon his Iron Throne. Far from offended, he was amused by the envoy’s words. Like a dragon playing with its food, he rose from his seat and stood upon the throne. “Bold words Dornishman. I can respect your courage at least. After all, it is only guest right and the sanctity of the truce banner that will see you return home when you bear a message like that. Go back and tell your prince to get his affairs in order,” her father declared with a mocking grin before the Dornish envoy was sent packing from the room.

Turning to his court, her father continued. “You have all heard it for yourselves. The Dornish continue in their pretentious sanctinomy, daring to tell us that we have broken the peace treaty. Yet what about the three Dornish Wars since the First supposedly ended? Or the countless other times they have raided our territories in the marches or lent aid to pirates in the Stepstones? Dorne is faithless and brazen, and they must be brought to heel. Therefore, I shall complete Aegon’s Conquest and rid ourselves of the Dornish threat once and for all. I hereby declare that a state of war now exists between the Iron Throne and the Principality of Dorne! Let us not rest until all of Dorne submits to this throne! To Westeros!”

“To Westeros!” the courtiers chorused in response.

To the gasping shock of some in the court, the High Septon spoke up with an announcement then, invited to speak at the dais by her father. With members of the Most Devout behind him, he proclaimed excommunication and damnation for every Dornish lord, lady, knight, man, woman, and child who refused to submit to House Targaryen from now on.

It was a rather unsubtle indicator that the Faith was now fully under their control Rhaenys knew, but if it worked, it worked. There was no way they were going to let the Velaryons claim to have more control over their branch of the Faith anymore. The Faith, Dorne, Westeros, they would all submit to House Targaryen or they will know the dragon’s wroth.

“Arise riders of House Targaryen,” her father spoke then and they walked out before the throne, knowing it was their cue. Rhaenys was first before her father and her husband Viserys was to her left and her son and heir Aegon to her right. Behind them stood Daemon, Gael, and Jaehaerys.

“Rhaenys Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, step forth.”

Her father’s words thundered in her ear as she walked forward. She knew what was going to happen yet it still felt unreal.

“Kneel,” her father commanded and she obeyed.

Her father continued, “The armies and fleets of our great kingdom have massed upon the borders of Dorne. They lack only the commanders to lead them, and who should lead but the dragonriders of House Targaryen? Ten we number yet not all of us shall go to war.

“Were I a younger man, I would gladly lead this war myself alongside my brother and Hand Baelon. Yet alas, my council has advised us against it on account of our age and seniority. And so we shall remain in King’s Landing to rule the realm and prepare supplies for the home front. To war goes our sons and grandsons, and you my daughter shall lead them. In my stead, command of the war shall fall to you Princess Rhaenys. Ye who shall be Queen, rise; go forth and bring victory and glory to your realm!”

Rhaenys rose from where she knelt. “I will not disappoint you Your Grace! By my oath and word, I swear that I shall not rest or know peace until all of Dorne submits before your throne! Fire and Blood!”

“May you and all under your command bring it upon our foes,” her father said firmly.

Nodding in affirmation, Rhaenys rose and turned toward the door, with her family members and fellow dragonriders in lockstep behind her. Six dragonriders would go to war against Dorne, twice the three Aegon the Conqueror had brought. How fitting that she, the second Rhaenys, would be given the duty to avenge the death of the first. The ghost of her grandparents’ grandmother will finally have peace.

Decades ago after the Fourth Dornish War in 89 AC, Dorne had been broken and bankrupt. An entire generation of its young men had burned and drowned in the Butchering of Bloodstone. Many had considered it the opportune time for House Targaryen to invade Dorne and complete the conquest once and for all and perhaps in another world, her grandfather might have done it, or at the least sent her father and uncle to do it for him in his old age.

Alas, matters in the Stepstones and Tyrosh had distracted him, distracted them all. Matters concerning House Velaryon. It always came back to the Velaryons didn’t it? They were never content. Proving themselves to have negotiated in bad faith, they had expanded yet again and conquered the Basilisk Isles four years ago and had since reaped enormous benefit and profit from their strategic positioning.

More than just that however, they had flaunted the wealth they had taken from Gogossos, proudly showing off new treasures of gold and silver and so much more. Her cousins armored themselves from head to toe in gapless Valyrian steel plate and gave out Valyrian steel swords to not just family members but to the soldiers of their household guard as well. Such a vain and pretentious display that spoke of simply arrogance to her.

Yet what worried Rhaenys and her family the most, was what they didn’t flaunt. For who could believe that a city of mages had no magic? What dark secrets and twisted blood magic could the Velaryons be learning from the tomes of those who had made the monstrous chimeras? They would not say, and Baela and Rhaena had proved to be of little aid here, claiming that there was no such magic and otherwise seeming to deflect their questions whenever they had attempted to subtly pry it out of them.

It had been too much for Rhaenys to tolerate. Which was why she had ordered Aegon to marry Helaena once they had heard of what the Velaryons had achieved and gained in Gogossos. She found her niece to be a much more trustworthy and preferable gooddaughter than her cousin Laena. Aegon had begged her to let him offer Laena and Daeron one last chance to prove their love and loyalty to him and join their side. It had been soundly rejected and her son’s relationship with them both had been broken forever.

Her heart had broken for her son but Rhaenys could not lie that she had been glad that he had finally seen the Velaryons for what they were and come over to her point of view. He now advocated for even more extreme measures against the Velaryons than she herself did, though perhaps that was just the bitterness and anger of a spurned man. Her son’s former beloved and former best friend had wed each other after all, he had plenty of reasons to be furious.

As did Rhaenys herself. More than just anger on her son’s behalf, she had been outraged at the Velaryons daring to arrange an incestuous marriage of their own. Exceptionalism was for House Targaryen, not the Velaryons, and their pretense to it with the Zaldilaros Creed was an overreach. She might have begrudgingly accepted it on the logic of reducing the chances of dragons spreading to yet another house through Laena but then the Velaryons had added insult to injury by placing the wedding date for Daeron and Laena’s wedding on the same date that she had announced for her own children’s weddings. The fucking audacity.

She took a vindictive pleasure in recalling how it had not gone at all as the Velaryons had hoped however. No doubt they had wanted to send a message to her and her house by drawing their entire Narrow Sea League away from attending her children’s wedding to attend theirs instead but in the end only three houses had dared to do so in full. The Celtigars, the Graftons, and the Royce-Arryns.

Most of the other houses had shown they knew who the real power was by attending her children’s wedding, the Targaryen wedding, or had simply been too small and powerless to matter. Some overly clever few like the Starks, Tarths, and Estermonts had thought to play both sides, sending their lords to her children’s wedding and heirs and other lesser members to the Velaryons’ but Rhaenys had those fence-sitters thinking carefully where their loyalties lied in whole soon after with a few visits on dragonback and subtle demonstrations of the Iron Throne’s power in laws and policies.

Even Baela and Rhaena had chosen to attend her children’s wedding over that of Daeron and Laena. After all, why would they attend the wedding of the goodsiblings they barely knew over that of their own flesh and blood that they had grown up with? She hoped that her nieces had torn into the Velaryons for trying to make them choose but she wasn’t betting on it, they seemed all too supportive and approving of the Velaryons whenever she met them. It seemed that House Velaryon’s ability to lure and corrupt Targaryen princesses remained strong, she should never have even considered working and negotiating with them. She might have lost her own daughter and counted herself fortunate that she had seen wisdom before that terrible fate had come to pass.

All of this had simply made it clearer than ever that House Velaryon could not be trusted. With their enormous and brazen success in the Basilisk Isles, her house looked lesser in comparison. A house that was nominally their vassal had defeated magical monsters and now owned incomparably more Valyrian steel than them? Such were the whispers of the weak and whimsical Westerosi nobility. They had to be silenced.

What made matters even worse was how her father had attempted to negotiate with the Velaryons for years. That had displeased many and now that his negotiations appeared to have failed completely, he looked weak. Many were questioning the authority of House Targaryen with the Velaryons going rogue yet again and conquering more lands for themselves with absolutely no reprisal or reprimand from the Iron Throne. After the Velaryon success in the Basilisks and their rejection of her son’s proposal, Rhaenys had led her family to begin seriously planning the conquest of Dorne in order to remedy this.

A war to conquer Dorne would serve many purposes for Rhaenys and her house. It would finally take the missed opportunity her house had not seized after the Butchering of Bloodstone, which was thankfully not wholly lost; even now Dorne had yet to recover from the Fourth Dornish War or even the First War waged by Aegon the Conqueror whose work they were finally going to complete. It would be a show of force, a projection of House Targaryen’s power that would silence all whispers of weakness and strengthen the legitimacy and prestige of their house and the flailing authority of her father, uniting all of Westeros behind them against a common and hated foe.

And importantly for Rhaenys herself, her victory in this war would allow her to step out of the shadow of her grandfather and father to forge her own legacy and decisively secure her own power for the day she inherited the Iron Throne herself. None would dare gainsay her ascension on account of her womanhood when she was the woman who had conquered Dorne.

As they saddled their dragons in the courtyard and readied to fly to war, they were intercepted by her daughter and gooddaughter who came rushing to see them off. They brought her grandchildren with them. Rhaenys softened her hard and focused gaze temporarily.

She had been blessed with five grandchildren to date. Her gooddaughter and niece Helaena held her son’s younger son Maelor in her arms, the young infant was not even a year old. Holdings his mother’s dress was Aemond, her eldest grandson and the far future king, third in line to the Iron Throne, but still only a toddling babe of four. Rhaenyra’s twins, Visenya and Viserys, were three years old and rushing to their father and paternal grandparents. Her younger son, Aelyx, was even younger than his cousin Maelor, having only been born two moons prior.

Her family tearfully embraced as they said their farewells one last time. Her son kissed Helaena fondly, the years had done well turning his heart away from the Velaryon girl and though she did not think he was in love with Helaena, he cared for her deeply and adored the sons she had given him, both of whom he eagerly took up into his arms to say goodbye to. Her husband Viserys was with him. Her daughter’s twin children tearfully embraced Daemon and Gael and their father Jaehaerys before wishing them well. Rhaenys smiled at the sights.

Eventually, Aemond, Visenya, and Viserys came up to her, saying a tearful goodbye and hoping that she’d be back soon. Rhaenys could not resist any longer and eagerly embraced them tightly, looking to her infant grandsons Maelor and Aelyx in their mother’s arms as she did so.

This, this was why she fought. Why they all fought. They fought for the future of House Targaryen, for a world where these children would grow up with everything they deserved, the power and might of an unchallenged House Targaryen. And for her dear Rhaenyra’s children in particular, they fought for an even more tangible inheritance given the plans to make her dear cousin Daemon the Prince of Dorne.

It was a fitting reward Rhaenys thought. For all of her complaints on his temper and troublemaking, Daemon had eagerly and loyally served their house for decades and she knew him to be competent and capable. Dorne under his rule would strategically reinforce the Stepstones and serve as a check on Velaryon expansion and a warning to them to behave, helping them to rein in their recalcitrant vassals.

Who knew, perhaps his relationship with his elder daughters might help them there with how close Dorne was to Tyrosh. And if Daemon happened to be distracted putting down Dornish rebellions for the rest of his life, well that was simply a happy coincidence that would keep him out of trouble.

But all good things had to come to an end. They could not tarry long. Within a few minutes, Rhaenys barked her orders and her dragonriders obeyed, extricating themselves from the little ones even as they tearfully protested. They mounted their dragons and with a single command, they all rose into the sky with powerful beats of their great wings.

Vermithor, Silverwing, Syrax, Sunfyre, Tyraxes, and her own Meleys would bring Dorne to heel. Looking back at the Red Keep, Rhaenys knew in her heart that they would return victorious with such power on their side.

And so it was that the one hundred and twentieth year since Aegon’s Conquest began with House Targaryen declaring its intent to complete their ancestor’s conquests, once and for all. Dorne would bow, bend, and break before them, or they would burn.

______________________________________________

Fourth Moon, 120 AC

Jacaerys

“And so Bilbo Baggins went back home and one day he wrote a book about his adventure and he called it ‘There and Back Again.’ And he lived happily ever after. The end,” Jace said dramatically.

He looked up from the book to see that his audience had already fallen asleep. Which of course, was precisely the point. Smiling slightly, Jace closed the book and put it back in the shelf of the nursery. It was his turn to read bedtime stories to the children tonight, a task he always enjoyed.

He and his siblings had made quite the brood in the past four years. Luke and Rhaena had had their son Baelor in 116, whom they had named for Uncle Baelon and for Baela, and their daughter Serra only last year, whom they had named for their mother. Daeron and Laena’s eldest daughter had been born in 117 and they had named her Jaenara, after Daeron’s childhood hero, the explorer he had wished to be like. Their infant second daughter Rhaelle slept peacefully in the corner of the nursery, only a few months old.

And of course, his own two sons, Corlys and Daemon, named for his father and Baela’s father, though for the latter Jace did personally prefer to think of him as having been named for his great-grandfather, reclaiming the name for House Velaryon, (he still didn’t like Daemon Targaryen and the feeling was mutual and would probably never change). His sons were his pride and joy frankly. He wasn’t sure there was anything more he valued in the world honestly, not his ambitions or pride… or his wife. If he really valued his wife, he wouldn’t be lying to her.

After so many years, he realized at last why his mother and father had done so many of the things they had. When you became a parent yourself, you finally understood your own parents. It was a never-ending cycle. And he understood how strong the desire to coddle and shelter your children from all harm could be. His sons were only four and one, still small and young, still so very precious and dependent on him to protect them.

His mood darkened as he thought of what awaited his sons in the future. Even if they could delay it until Corlys and Daemon at least reached adulthood, he would be taking his young sons to war, to the Dance of the Dragons. He couldn’t protect them forever; he had to raise them for war to stand any chance to survive. What kind of childhood was that? He did his best not to think of the Dance. He had no desire to ruin his mood tonight.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called.

Jace smiled and turned around to greet his wife who was leaning against the frame of the nursery door. He crushed the familiar twinge of guilt that always arose when he dared to be happy with Baela. For over four years he had lied to her, humored her attempts to reconcile their families, let her take their children to see her parents and siblings, knowing deep down it was pointless yet praying that it worked against all odds nonetheless. There would be a reckoning for those lies one day, but it was not today.

“Looks like they’re all asleep,” Baela said as she walked up to him and kissed his cheek affectionately. He crushed the little sliver of guilt again.

“Yeah thankfully. They were rambunctious earlier. Quite the energetic brood of toddlers we have,” Jace said.

“Well of course it’s noisy. Five tumbling little toddlers and a squalling babe in one room? I’m honestly surprised little Rhaelle sleeps as soundly as she does with all her loud siblings and cousins around her all day.”

“The noise will die down eventually. They can stay together for a little while longer but we should probably look into getting some of the older ones their own rooms in the palace soon. Especially Corlys, he needs to be the big brother for all of them and he can’t be sleeping in the same beds as them forever,” Jace said, looking at the massive king-sized bed where five toddlers were snoring away. The bed was so large it fit all of them comfortably and had a raised fence that was almost like a cot, ideal for keeping little toddlers from falling off.

Baela looked at him a little sternly. “He’s only four years old, give him a little time still. How old were you when you stopped sharing a room with Luke?”

Jace grinned sheepishly. “I think I was eight? Or was it nine? Didn’t stop us from having ‘sleepovers’ in our rooms for several years though.”

“Your adjacent rooms?” she asked pointedly.

“Precisely,” he said with a smirk.

Baela shook her head in amusement. She looked at the children on the bed again. “I think they’ll all cry when we eventually tell them they can’t sleep together anymore you know? Every night is like a fun little party for these rascals. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of cousins as close as this lot. They’re more like siblings really. Corlys and Baelor especially, they’re brothers rather than cousins to each other. Inseparable really, they even look alike.”

“If you go by blood, Corlys and Baelor would technically be brothers anyway since the four of us are identical twins. It’s nice to see that blood relation has shown itself in the strength of their bond. I hope it will stay the same for the rest of them and any more little ones we add as well. It’s nice having a large family you can rely on,” Jace said earnestly.

Baela looked out the window in the nursery to the full moon in the sky before turning to him with a sly and sultry smirk. “You know; the moon is rather beautiful tonight. Daemon’s already almost a year old. What say you and I get started on adding another little one to this collection of cousins and siblings?”

Jace chuckled. “I’d very much like to take you up on your offer but not tonight love. Luke wants to talk to me about something.”

Baela nodded in understanding. “I’ll go on ahead to bed first then. If I’m still awake by the time you’re done, well, maybe we could still have a little fun,” she said, swaying her hips teasingly as she walked away, like she knew he found irresistible.

The sly woman was trying to tempt him out of his meeting wasn’t she? It fit the epithet she had acquired for herself after the events in Gogossos. Truly she did justice to the name Baela the Bold. Jace was willing to bet that Baela’s twin, Rhaena, the ‘Radiant’ as she was known gave Luke as much pause. His brother would understand if he gave in to the temptation wouldn’t he?

But he had already postponed this meeting a few times and his siblings were getting annoyed. It had to be tonight. The familiar guilt came rushing back to him as he remembered just what the meeting was about and with Baela gone, Jace let himself dwell in it for a little. It was the punishment he deserved, but when it crippled his ability to act for too long, it had to be destroyed.

He looked to the children, to his sons and his nephew and nieces, and reminded himself why he did the things he did. Kissing his eldest son’s forehead tenderly, Jace turned and left the room, blowing out the candles as he left. He nodded to the Tide Guard as he walked away. He was trusting them with the most precious things in their house. Dozens of fanatically loyal and devoted guards for six little children.

With a practiced and cruel ease, Jace then crushed his heart and tossed the guilt aside. His face hardened, the lord’s face as his siblings would call it. The face he wore when he spoke to them as their liege not as their elder brother.

Making his way to the council room, Jace entered and saw his siblings waiting for him, staring out the window at the bright full moon, the moonlight reflected beautifully off their silver-blonde hair, identifying them clearly. They were not alone, other faces both familiar and not lurked in the shadows of the moonlit room. Each bore a silver badge in the shape of a familiar seashell on their breasts. The Conches.

The candles in the chandelier had not been lit. It gave the room a dark and heavy air, fitting he supposed, for the skullduggery they were doing tonight. Only the moon would bear witness to the sins they would commit. His three siblings looked at him, but Jace did not speak yet. He walked to the window, looking in awe at the beautiful moon, basking in its silver light.

“Speak,” Jace ordered, in a voice so cold he shocked even himself.

His siblings seemed to flinch but the Conches took it in stride. One of them spoke up, a deceptively young and brave woman. “My lord, we bring reports, of the preparations of our agents in the Iron Islands and in Lys and Myr, as well as on the progress of the Targaryen conquest of Dorne and the war between the Free Cities in Essos. What would you like to hear first?”

“Dorne.”

Bowing, the Conch continued. “The Targaryens are conquering Dorne faster than we thought they would. We believe it will be a month at most before the invading forces are garrisoning and occupying every castle, though we expect that resistance to the Targaryens from the smallfolk and escaped nobility will continue for several months if not years afterward.”

“Expect? Or hope?” Jace asked. He supposed the pace of the Targaryens’ conquest should have been expected. Their war plan had been genius. They had attacked from five different directions.

Jaehaerys had taken the Torrentine river valley almost singlehandedly with a force from Oldtown, Brightwater Keep, and Horn Hill providing his army. In his ruthlessness, his cousin had extinguished the entirety of House Dayne and House Blackmont, and he had heard that he had personally claimed Dawn as spoils of war.

To the east of the Torrentine, Cousin Viserys had charged down the Prince’s Pass with a huge army from the Reach while Rhaenys and Aegon had come down the Boneway with their Stormlanders, backed up with the might of the Crownlands. Daemon and Gael had taken the Royal Fleet and the Stepstones Fleet to destroy Sunspear utterly with dragonfire before sailing up the Greenblood and putting it to the torch, cutting eastern Dorne in half.

The Redwynes, Hightowers, and Lannisters meanwhile raided the Summer Sea coast with their fleets, preventing the Qorgyles, Vaiths, and Gargalens from sending their levies and knights as reinforcements to any neighbors before they themselves were cut down by the sword or dragonfire.

Altogether, the Targaryens had been brutal, ruthless, cruel even. In response to the resistance they had encountered and the endless atrocities the fanatic locals had committed, such as false surrenders, breaking guest rights and truce banners, and poisoning wells and food supplies, Rhaenys had decreed death.

Every Dornish noble house from the lowest of landed knights to the highest of great lords had already been declared attainted. Their lines were to be destroyed, root and stem if they had to be. Every Dornish village that harbored rebels would be decimated, their lands given to smallfolk invited from the Reach and Stormlands when peace returned.

Some had already started trying to flee into the desert like they did in the First Dornish War but the Targaryens were hunting them down with their dragons, destroying all the oases and supplies they found from above and leaving them to starve in the sands. Even the Stony Dornish had refused to submit to Rhaenys like she had no doubt hoped, too blinded by their hatred of the Stormlanders she commanded. They died for it.

And all of this brutality was justified in the eyes of the gods according to the High Lickspittle the Targaryens had seated in the Great Sept of Jaehaerys, with all the Dornish who defied the Targaryens excommunicated and forbidden the seven heavens for their trouble.

The Targaryens were systematically destroying Dorne and remaking it in their image. They were bringing to bear the full might of Westeros upon it, crushing its people underfoot and eradicating its nobility so that its lands and bounty could be redistributed to those they thought worthy from the northern kingdoms.

They were clearly working out their frustrations and jealousy of his house on the Dornish, not that the Dornish didn’t deserve it for the crimes they had committed but he knew what the message the Targaryens were sending his family was. This is the price paid for defiance.

Naturally House Velaryon and its three closest allies in Westeros, Celtigar, Grafton, and Royce-Arryn (the families that had proven their loyalty and bravery by daring to attend his siblings’ wedding over their Targaryen cousins), had not been called to war against Dorne by the Targaryens. It would defeat the purpose.

Jace had actually had to convince Baela and Rhaena with Luke not to go anyway, reminding them that if their family had wanted their help they would have asked for it, and this might be something they wanted to do without them so they could match their accomplishments with pride. Which wasn’t wrong technically but it still left a bad taste in Jace’s mouth.

“Expect my lord,” the Conch answered. “The Targaryens have been… unkind to the locals in their invasion. They are not at all loved and the bad blood from the previous Dornish Wars remains. It is likely the Targaryens will have to purge half the population before Dorne truly submits.”

“A wasteful and time consuming process… but one they do not need six dragons for. Three would suffice if they have any ability to use them. That means as many as three Targaryen riders could interfere with the Triunification at a moment’s notice. Unacceptable. I need an assurance. I need the Iron Islands in revolt. Can you give that to me?” he asked, politely, but firmly.

“We can my lord,” another Conch spoke up, a man this time. “Lady Mysaria has already arrived in the Iron Islands to personally see to it. All that she awaits is your order.”

Jace stroked his chin thoughtfully. The White Worm had decided to personally oversee their operations in the Iron Islands? Impressive and it spoke highly of how seriously she was taking this most important mission. His father had chosen the Mistress of the Conches well it seemed.

“How goes the war in Essos?” he asked. War between the Free Cities was not something he and his family had initially considered in their plans for the Triunification but it was a welcome surprise. It seemed history would be repeating itself, once again House Velaryon would interfere in an Essosi war for its own gain.

The war had pitted their principal targets, Pentos and Volantis and their puppet Myr, against the rest of the Free Cities in a grand coalition led by Braavos. It had started when Volantis had once again attempted to conquer Mantarys, Tolos, and Elyria, only this time Pentos had not joined the coalition against Volantis like it had previously due to its feud with Braavos but had actually allied with them instead. With Pentos on its side, it looked increasingly like Volantis might actually win this time. Or they would be if Jace didn’t plan to interfere.

“It is currently in Volantis and Pentos’ favor. Mantarys has fallen to Volantene forces which have proceeded to drive Elyria into the sea and are marching on Tolos. Ny Sar and Ar Noy are under siege and while the Braavosi remain dominant in the Narrow Sea, the Pentoshi are making surprising progress along the Braavosi Coastlands,” the female Conch answered.

“In other words, the territories we desire are lightly defended, if at all,” Jace said. “Are our Conches and the Triarchs in Lys and Myr ready for the next step of the plan?”

“Everything is in order my lord,” the male Conch reassured him. “Simply say the word, and the entirety of the Iron Islands, Lys, and Myr will be embroiled in rebellion and chaos. All that we await is your command.”

Jace looked away from the moon and turned to his siblings again. He needed them with him. This was not something they could go back from. There was no more room for error or hesitation once they set down this path. Inciting revolt in the Iron Islands was treason and it could get them all killed if it was discovered before they were ready for the Dance. He trusted in the skills of Lady Misery and the Conches but there was always a risk.

Slowly, silently, and with eyes full of understanding and reluctance, Luke nodded. Daeron and Laena simply looked at him and he knew. His siblings were with him to the end, no matter what. Even if Baela turned against him when she inevitably found out, even if the Dance came before they were ready and they were sure to die, Luke, Laena, and Daeron would never abandon or fail him. They were the three people he trusted most in the world, above his wife and above even his parents.

“Do it,” he ordered the Conches. “Remember to make sure that the Iron Islands are incited to revolt before Lys and Myr are, not at the same time and most definitely not after. We need the Targaryens to reassign dragonriders to the Iron Islands and draw them away from Dorne. It cannot be too long before either or they will finish up in the Iron Islands before we can consolidate the Triarchy. The timing must be perfect for the Triunification to succeed. I trust in the discretion and the ability of the Conches to see this mission done to our exact requirements and with the utmost secrecy as you have been briefed many times. These are paramount conditions, a matter of life and death for us all.”

An operation with as stringent requirements as Jace had demanded would have been doomed to fail give the distances and sensitive timings involved had it been any other organization but not the Conches, and not with glass candles. They hadn’t yet mastered the candles, but in the past four years, they and their most trusted Conches had learned enough for this mission to succeed. Instantaneous communication between agents halfway across the world from each other and remote scrying to see roughly what the Targaryen dragonriders were doing had many advantages. With those advantages, Jace did not expect success, he demanded it. The price of failure was… unimaginable.

“Of course my lord. Your will shall be done. We will not fail you,” the female Conch said before she and her brethren bowed and turned to leave.

“One last thing,” Jace called out, making them stop in their tracks. “I need a message delivered to High Tide in secret. For Lord Corlys and Lady Viserra’s ears only.”

“And what shall be this message, my lord?” the male Conch queried.

“Tell them… tell them that the time has come. They will know what you mean.”

The Conches nodded and bowed again before exiting the room finally, leaving Jace alone with his siblings. He turned back to the window and continued looking at the moon.

It was not long before his siblings moved. In the silent night, even the slight scrape of the chairs against the floor was as deafening as a dragon’s roar. One by one they came to stand beside him, looking at the same beautiful moon.

“And so it begins,” his sister said.

“No. Now it ends,” Jace replied.

It was ironic. He had held so many ambitions for years and conquering the Basilisk Isles and Gogossos had helped him fulfill some of them. He had expanded his family’s lands and he had cemented their place as the unquestionably richest house in the world. He had covered himself in glory and even acquired the epithet he had long coveted; Jacaerys the Fearless people called him now, for his undaunted bravery in the face of near certain death against the Red Death and chimeras.

Jace knew though that his epithet was a lie. He had too many fears and he had not conquered any of them. He could barely sleep these days. Nightmares where the Targaryens discovered plans before they were ready and killed his family plagued him. He incessantly worried that something would go with the Triunification plan, with the Dance plan, and it would all be over for them. He feared failing his family.

He looked up at the moon again, still so beautiful and perfect. His father had once told him that saying the moon was beautiful was a poetic and indirect way to tell someone you loved them. Baela and him had started using it after that, simply adoring the subtlety and the beautiful symbolism associated with that phrase. For they who looked like they had moonglow in their hair, it was a very apt if vain phrasing.

Baela had told him the moon was beautiful earlier, she had told him she loved him. He had thought he had crushed his heart for the night so he could do what had to be done but hearts just didn’t work like that. It squeezed painfully as he wondered. If she ever discovered what had happened on this night, in this room, if she ever discovered the truth, would she ever say those words to him again?

Jace didn’t know, he was afraid of finding out. He did know though, that the moon would always be beautiful to him for as long as he lived.

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The Youngest Generation of House Velaryon and House Targaryen, circa 120 AC

Born to Jacaerys Velaryon and Baela Targaryen:
- Corlys Velaryon ‘the Younger’, born 116 AC. Possesses a dragon egg from Dreamfyre.
- Daemon Velaryon, born 119 AC. Bonded to a sapphire and saffron-purple colored hatchling named Saffyre which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 119 AC.

Born to Lucerys Velaryon and Rhaena Targaryen:
- Baelor Velaryon, born 116 AC. Bonded to an iron and silver-colored young dragon named Aegion which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 116 AC.
- Serra Velaryon, born 118 AC. Bonded to a violet and white-blue young dragon named Starfyre which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 118 AC.

Born to Daeron and Laena Velaryon:
- Jaenara Velaryon, born 117 AC. Bonded to a crimson and gold colored young dragon named Urrax which hated from an egg of Dreamfyre in 117 AC.
- Rhaelle Velaryon, born early 120 AC. Possess a dragon egg from Dreamfyre placed in her cradle.

Born to Aegon and Helaena Targaryen:
- Aemond Targaryen, born 116 AC. Possesses a dragon egg from Dreamfyre.
- Maelor Targaryen, born 119 AC. Bonded to a hatchling with scarlet wings and horns, black scales streaked with scarlet, and eyes as red as coals named Nightfyre which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 119 AC.

Born to Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra Targaryen:
- Visenya Targaryen, born 117 AC. Bonded to an olive-green young dragon with pale orange wing membranes named Vermax that hatched from an egg of Syrax in 117 AC.
- Viserys Targaryen ‘the Younger’, born 117 AC. Bonded to a pearlescent white young dragon with golden eyes and chest named Arrax that hatched from an egg of Syrax in 117 AC.
- Aelyx Targaryen, born 119 AC. Possesses a dragon egg from Syrax.

Notes:
- It appears that Aemond and Maelor Targaryen have been given two of the three dragon eggs of Dreamfyre remaining in House Targaryen’s possession. These eggs were retrieved from Braavos by King Jaehaerys. The Targaryens must be hoping that the pattern of Dreamfyre’s children growing extremely large extremely fast continues in these eggs and the dragons within.

- House Velaryon has determined that there is little point in building a Dragonpit in Tyrosh given the eldest children sans Corlys the Younger already have dragons and the Triunification is imminent. Instead they plan to build the Dragonpit in the city of Myr once the Triunification is complete. Until then however they will hatch dragons only in cradles to bond to their children. Without a Dragonpit or a volcano like the Dragonmont, they cannot take the risk that unbonded dragons will simply fly away before the children are old enough to claim them, even if those dragons could be larger, due to hatching earlier, than they would be if they hatched only in the cradles of newborn Velaryons.

- All the children listed are very closely related. The children of Jacaerys and Baela and the children of Lucerys and Rhaena are both double first cousins and siblings by blood due to their parents being identical twins. They are all also first cousins with the children of Aegon and Helaena, Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra, and Daeron and Laena. The Targaryen children are double first cousins with each other, single first cousins with the children of the two twin pairs, and second cousins with the children of Daeron and Laena. All these closely related cousins are most definitely not going to grow up to brutally murder each other.

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Author’s Note: Just a reminder that the next chapter won’t be posted until the 17th/18thweekend; thanks for being so understanding! Hope you guys liked this chapter, apologies that it is so short but I think that’s alright after we’ve had so many long chapters in a row and well pacing wise it was very good to end it here I think. Lmk your thoughts about the timeskip and the changing scenario in the comments below or over on the tide-guard channel in the Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm