The Dragon of Duskendale -- A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfic

Chapter 29

The Golden Tooth was a large, formidable castle, built over the hill road leading into the eastern Westerlands. By built over, he truly meant built over; the road ran directly through the middle of the castle, and the keep's roots ran deep within the rock rising high to either side. One would have to travel all the way to the Sunset Sea to the north or to Hornvale to the south to subvert it and it's tall towers.

In truth, the Golden Tooth was two castles, one on either side of the road. Two great gatehouses connected them, their portcullis' heavy and strong with three hundred feet of road between. In a stroke of wisdom from some ancient Lefford, each gatehouse could only be accessed from one side of the castle. If a force were to take the northern portion of the Tooth, they would only be able to raise the eastern portcullis, with the western one still stubbornly barring the pass. Were they to take the southern portion, they could raise the western, but not the eastern. An army would need to take both to pass through the Tooth, a feat easier said than done; the walls stood tall and thick in all directions, including where the northern portion faced the southern between the gatehouses, crenellations staring at one another across the gap.

A subterranean tunnel, built beneath the road and the walls of either castle and sloping gradually down towards the middle than up towards the other side, allowed servants, supplies and soldiers to cross from one side to the other in times of both peace and war. The entrance on either side had heavy gates of their own, each with fifteen thick iron bars kept ready to pull into place if the other half of the Tooth were to fall.

While foot traffic had been allowed free passage through the portcullis' since time immemorial, the Leffords charged a fluctuating rate per wagon. That, combined with the mines branching deep into the mountains on either side, had filled the coffers of House Lefford for centuries. All told, the Golden Tooth was a highly defensible, highly lucrative seat.

It also had a breathtaking view.

Lord Lefford had given Aelor quarters in the easternmost tower, overlooking the foothills they had climbed the night before and again this morning. The chambers were simple but comfortable, which suited Aelor just fine—he'd grown used to a cot over the past year and was as content sleeping in a tent as he was a keep, but he would not deny the feel of a featherbed was a welcome pleasure. So too was the balcony where he sat now, tankard of wine in one hand, staring out at a moonlit vista so wonderful no artist in Westeros could do it justice.

The old him was thankful he hadn't had to burn it.

The new him was less so.

It was that darkest time of night when nothing moved save the insects, the song of crickets a pleasant accompaniment to unpleasant thoughts. True to Lord Leo's word, the Leffords had thrown a grand feast, or at least as grand of one as they could on such short notice. Food and wine had flowed freely, and by midnight even the most cynical of Aelor's lords and knights had stopped expecting treachery, but the impromptu festivities had ended well over an hour ago. The highest born among them had retired to chambers within the castle, the rest to an encampment along the road. By now his men were sleeping off their drink or bedding kitchen maids.

Not the Dragon of Duskendale, however. Aelor Targaryen sat on a simple stool on the balcony, a chalice of wine in his hand. Throughout the war, no matter who he killed that day or which of his friends died, he had never struggled to rest at night. When he cut down that pig looking outlaw of the Kingswood Brotherhood, the first man he'd ever killed, he had slept fine that night, only bothered by the lingering smell of his breakfast on his boots. Aelor had killed dozens since then, more than he could count, but sleep had never been far from reach after any of them. Not even the horrors of the Trident and the great losses he had suffered there had kept the prince from his rest.