OF BASTARDS & DRAGONS || Aenar Targaryen [1]

87 • CASTLE OF HARRENHAL

Thousands of people must have surely travelled to Harrenhal and visited its blackened ruins, even more so when it had been in its original, glorious form.

Aenar doubted that anyone before him had been as comforted by the sight, with most probably wanting to turn in the other direction rather than heading straight towards it.

Such contentment was not a result of the castle itself, since Aenar felt the same chill as everyone else at the corpse of a stronghold. His relief came at the sound of what greeted her.

As he expertly brought Roach to the ground, Caraxes' head peeked over the trees, evaluating the potential threat. A shrill tone escaped the dragon's throat, a noise that was returned in kind by the new arrival.

Aenar had done little to hide his descent once he was close enough to Harrenhal, knowing that Daemon Targaryen wasn't the sort of person one wanted to take by surprise. He smiled at his loyal dragon, some of the concerns that had been eating away at his finally melting away into nothingness.

Caraxes' presence meant that Daemon was also there at the castle. Up until that point, there had been a chance that he'd already left, enacting plans that Aenar hadn't been clued into.

With barely a word coming from Harrenhal, the sense of unknowingness had plagued the King, one of the main reasons why she'd conducted the long journey herself.

The fact that his brother remained suggested that he was still following the plans he'd laid out before leaving all that time ago. It suggested that he was still loyal to his cause.

It was something that he was clinging onto dearly. It was a good job that he was given that early indication, since Daemon wasn't at the mighty doors by the time he approached them.

Even with their current overseer, the people working to bring Harrenhal back to life had marvelled at the sight of Roach in the sky, which meant word of her arrival must surely have made it to the dragon lurking inside those walls.

Instead, Aenar was met by a relatively old and portly man who rushed towards her with a bright smile and a surprising level of speed.

"Your Grace!" he exclaimed. "This is a surprise! And an honour. Of course it's an honour, that should go unsaid."

He returned his smile gentilly. "You need not stumble over your words in my presence, Ser."

"Ser Simon Strong, Your Grace. Frankly, I'm ashamed of the state this place is in. If we'd known that you were coming beforehand, we would have made the castle much more presentable. Or, at least, as presentable as this cursed place can be."

"I'm sure it will meet my standards for as long as I intend to stay.....but before I go in, I'd like to let you know that once I take the iron throne. Lancelot Strong will be butchered for the murder of my children." Aenar informs sternly.

Ser Simon Strong, takes a deep breath. "And what of my brother Lord Lyonel and nephews Harwin and Larys?" He inquires with a measured tone.

Aenar paused and pondered. "I'll be merciful to return back to their station; though Ser Harwin might continue as captain of the gold cloaks once he's released, I cannot say the same for your other nephew Larys."

Simon creased his brow. "May I ask why Your Grace?"

"He sits on the green council." Aenar informed sternly. "But as for your Lord Lyonel will return here as Lord Paramount of Harrenhal....I cannot bear to see him in Kingslanding... after his indiscretions." He offered.

"That is an equitable compromise.... Your Grace. You're mercies moves me deeply. Thank you......Do you...come alone?."

"A few men trail behind me, who should arrive before nightfall."