Bronze Beauty | Daemon Targaryen

Destruction and Reunions

The sound of catapults hitting ships, dragons roaring, seagulls squawking and waves crashing filled the air as Aelyx stood next to Laenor Velaryon at the planning table. With food rations dwindling and little to no aid from the mainland, morale was at an all-time low.

Ser Vaemond certainly wasn't helping with his whispers of mutiny and general complaints being heard throughout the camp. He believed they were all doomed and that the Targaryens, specifically Daemon Targaryen, were to blame.

Glancing over his shoulder, Aelyx saw a snoozing Vermithor and Seasmoke, bathing in the little sunlight they had through the thick fog and smoke clouding the air. The dragons had been working hard these past years, going in shifts to torment the enemy with dragon fire while the other two slept or feasted on sea beasts.

While Vermithor was larger and more powerful than the swifter young dragon, he was more prone to lethargy and had less patience for silliness. He'd threatened to burn several young soldiers who thought they'd be brave enough to approach the 'King of Dragons' and his young nestmate. Caraxes avoided the other dragons, his anti-socialness well known among dragonriders and keepers.

Aelyx was pulled from his musing by Lord Corlys' voice as he said, "We have sixteen, perhaps eighteen seaworthy ships, 700 foot soldiers, some 60 knights. Our food quickly dwindles, save what we can fish from the sea. I would say we have a fortnight, mayhaps longer, with strict rationing. I have made calls for Driftmark to send more ships, but they will be weeks away. We are faltering, and the triarchy knows it. We must press the attack and continue sending the dragons."

Laenor voice was tired and held a whining edge to it as he replied, "There's no point, Father. The Crab Feeder has created a choke point here." He moved a piece on the table to represent the chokepoint, "Beyond these dunes. Archers hold their high positions; foot soldiers hold the ground. We strafe them on dragonback repeatedly, but they retreat further into the caves."

Ser Vaemond didn't hesitate to spit his vitriol, cutting in with, "Dragons can circle Bloodstone until they fall from the sky. The Crab Feeder and his men have no reason to leave those caves."

Blood boiling after weeks of holding his tongue, Aelyx snarled, "Then we must give them one! A quarry worth leaving their positions for."

Laenor nodded, backing his cousin, "An offering a flesh the Crab can't pass up."

"Who?" Vaemond snarled, leaning forward onto the table towards Aelyx, "You? Do you Targaryens truly think yourself so important?"

"He is the rider of Vermithor, one of the largest dragons in existence, and he is a prince of Westeros. The Crab Feeder will not hesitate to try and bring him down."

"He is the firstborn of a second son who will never inherit anything. He is worthless."

Lord Corlys stepped forward, his voice firm, "Perhaps to you, brother, but not the Crab Feeder and not to me. Aelyx has been instrumental these past three years, and you know it. Him and Daemon."

Vaemond snorted with derision, "Daemon? Daemon is why we are losing ."

"Dragon returning!" The call cut through the tension, everyone turning their heads to where Caraxes was landing, his serpentine body barely making a sound as he landed near the other dragons. From his back came a dirt and ash-covered Daemon Targaryen, his once silver hair coated with blood and soil, tangling the strands and making him look more formidable than he already was.

"Daemon, he at least is fighting this war. What of you, Uncle?" Laenor asked, "What role have you played on this council other than Master of Complaints?"

"Enough, Laenor!" Lord Corlys snapped, but his ire quickly turned to his younger brother as Vaemond yelled.

"If King's Landing will not support Daemon, why should any of us?! " The last part was yelled loudly for all to hear, the man turning to the troops, arms wide in question.