A Letter To The Realm

Aerion looked at the gold cloak who had gained his interest. "Since the city watch lacks a lord commander, you may consider yourself a temporary one. Your first order will be to open the River gate and welcome my forces. Following this, it will be your duty to organise the city watch and return them to their duties. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Loud and clear."

"Wonderful... you may go now, along with your gold cloaks."

'I wonder if he'll be up to the challenge... if not, then I'll just have to find another.'

The gold cloaks left the Red Keep and marched down the stairs, scattering across the streets of King's Landing afterwards. Officers were left to their own groups of gold cloaks while the new lord commander walked with around a dozen to the River gate. A decently-sized division took the restrained guards and imprisoned them within the dungeons. Meanwhile, the smallfolk who had marched to the Red Keep were all dismissed while the gold cloaks were making their way down.

Once the gold cloaks had left, only Lyanna, Jocelyn and Aerion himself remained in the throne room.

"Do you happen to know where the remaining members of the small council are hiding this time, Lady Lyanna?"

"Last I saw them, they were all gathered in the small council chamber. They may have moved by now, however..."

"It is a good start, I suppose." Aerion stood up and walked down to the bottom of the Iron Throne. He thought of a certain member who had crossed him before... and decided to repay the favour in full. Before leaving the throne room, he noticed that Jocelyn continued to follow him. "I will be going alone."

"...I'll go see my brothers then."

"I'm sure they have missed you," Aerion stated before continuing in his path.

...

As he approached the chamber, several guards stood in his path. Yet these guards did not resist upon his appearance... no, they knew better than that. They opened the door and held it open for him.

"Your Grace, the three remaining members of the small council await you."

"Why thank you for the warm welcome."

Aerion walked into the small council chamber and observed the members who had been left in King's Landing. "Since the guards did not strike, I assume that you three are intent on bending the knee to me?"

"It would seem so, Your Grace." Petyr smiled. "I cannot speak for the others, but I would gladly continue serving as the Master of Coin."

"Brilliant." Aerion nodded. "Who does the Spider side with then?"

"My interests side with the good of the realm, Your Grace."

'The good of the realm...' Aerion chuckled. "Well, that is an intriguing answer."

Aerion pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. "This answer adds a tone of unpredictability... but I do value what you bring to the table. Now, since you were a member of the small council during the Sack of King's Landing, could you tell me what piece of advice you and Pycelle gave before my grandfather opened the gate?"

"We had an argument that led to the fateful decision, Your Grace. It was Grand Maester Pycelle who advised the late King Aerys to open the gates... while I attempted to advise the King otherwise, he chose to trust Pycelle's words and allowed Lord Tywin's host inside."

"He lies!" Pycelle shouted in objection, pointing his wrinkled finger at Varys. "I did no such thing! Your Grace, believe me... this Spider has twisted the truth. He was the one who advised King Aerys to open the gates!"

"How interesting..." Aerion looked at the wine jar, wondering if it was poisoned. "I can see that you are eerily desperate to prove yourself, Pycelle. I would ask my dear old grandfather myself... but it would take less effort to force the truth out of you."

He withdrew Instinct and threw it towards Pycelle's head without a moment to spare. The dagger easily pierced through the Grand Maester's skull, killing him instantly. His chair fell onto the ground under the weight of his corpse. Meanwhile, Aerion dragged out his soul with a surge of emerald flames and forced it to form properly.

This sudden act of killing did shock both remaining small council members. Most Kings would hold a trial if a small council member committed treason before executing them... but Aerion outright killed Pycelle without a moment of hesitation.

An emerald ghost-like figure of a younger Pycelle appeared behind Aerion. Without further ado, he made the soul speak.

"Were you lying before?"

"I was, My Lord. I advised King Aerys to open the gates, believing that Lord Tywin would take this opportunity and become King himself. That did not happen... but I continued to promote the interests of the Lannisters under the rule of King Robert."

Both Vary's and Petyr's eyes widened as they observed the soul of Pycelle, Petyr especially.

"Well then... thank you for informing me of the truth, Pycelle."

"You are most welcome, My Lord."

'Piece of trash...'

Aerion's eyes glowed violet as emerald flames surged and dragged Pycelle's soul into his boundless inventory of souls.

"Varys, you have gained my trust by stating the truth." Aerion's gaze turned to Petyr Baelish. "The only living person here that I am still uncertain of is you, Lord Baelish."

"How may I convince you, Your Grace?" Petyr replied.

"Ah... that's where the problem lies. You see, I find it very difficult to trust men who have made attempts on my life. You understand that, don't you?"

"It was Lord Jon of House Arryn who orchestrated all of the assassination attempts, Your Grace. I was not involved in the slightest."

"Mhm... I wonder, will you tell me the same as a soul?"

"..."

"There's no point in lying to me when I already know the truth. If you admit to it, I'll keep you around as a subject of mine. Otherwise... well, to put it simply, you'll be joining my collection."

Petyr grit his teeth slightly. The predicament he was in wasn't very enviable with both roads having a possibility of death. Though, one did seem to have a better result... which was the one he chose.

"I... I have sent my own assassins on one occasion."

"Wonderful." Aerion smiled slightly. "Now, I didn't mention whether or not you'll be a living or undead subject... ah, how clumsy of me!"

It was at that moment that Petyr knew that he was going to die.

A small slash of wind left Aerion's fingertips, cutting apart Petyr within moments. He, too, fell onto the ground.

Aerion stood up from his chair and went over to retrieve Instinct from Pycelle's skull. After dragging it out, he cleaned the blood away from the dagger with a splash of pure water. Then he returned the dagger to its sheath and harvested Petyr's soul for later use. Due to Instinct's effect that came from the Tyrant's Blade, Pycelle's corpse began to transform into a greater undead. It was a hideous thing... so hideous that Aerion burned it himself.

"I want ravens to be delivered across the Seven Kingdoms, announcing that the Rightful King has come to bring unity to the Realm. Can you do that for me, Lord Varys?"

"... Should I begin now?"

"The sooner, the better. Oh... and I will be writing the message myself."

Varys nodded and got to preparing the ravens while Aerion focused on writing the first, original, letter.

~

To the Lords of my Realm, you have until 297 AC.

I, Aerion of House Targaryen, the Dragon Emperor of the Valyrian Empire and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, have taken King's Landing with swift ease and now hold the Usurper's family captive. With that, the Iron Throne has returned to its true owner and so will the Seven Kingdoms in due time.

As you all know well, the Usurper has ultimately failed to completely vanquish the second Greyjoy Rebellion. The protector of the Realm whom you rebels serve cannot even defeat a fleet of glorified pirates... it's so very pitiful! The state of the Seven Kingdoms is heart-rending and worse than it has been for many years. As the Rightful King, I cannot stand and look from afar any longer!

To my loyalists, now is the time to sharpen your swords and rally in King's Landing.

To the Usurper and his rebellious lords, you have the choice of swearing fealty to your true, Rightful King beneath the Iron Throne or raising your insignificant swords against me in a pointless war. While you make your fateful decision, know that I have ascended past the point of being threatened by mere armies. Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands... it matters not to me. Know this and remember it well.

Your futures lay in your own hands, Lords of Westeros.

Sincerest Regards, Dragon Emperor Aerion of House Targaryen.

~

...

"So you have come to take what is yours..." Doran muttered after he read through the letter. "After this, the Realm will know only one King... as it should."

~

"We were one step ahead of the rest all along." Mace Tyrell chuckled. "This is good... very good, indeed."

~

Lord Tywin sat in deep thought as the letter laid before his table. He had read through it once... twice... thrice even while he contemplated making the trip to King's Landing or staying within the walls of Casterly Rock. A report on Aerion's actual conquest of King's Landing came to him afterwards, stating how he had done so.

It would seem that the more time passed, the mightier he would grow.

Never had he in his life regretted a single decision to such a degree. If he had stayed in Casterly Rock, then the deepest grudge Aerion could have with him would be staying neutral in the war. All those years ago, however, no one could have foreseen his magic and development of it. By the time Tywin was aware, it had been too late...

"What will you do?" Tyrion asked as he looked at the conflicted expression of his father. "It is true that unlike Aegon he has no dragons to speak of. But... I would say that he is the dragon himself."

'More cunning and fiercer than any other.' Tywin thought something that he wouldn't say in person.

"...I will do what any wise lord would."

In the end, he placed House Lannister before himself and decided to proudly confront his fate directly instead of hiding away.

~

Balon Greyjoy sat on his throne with Aerion's letter shaking in his hand. Surely, he hadn't angered Aerion with his constant reaving? He kept reading through it again and again until it had grown all too clear... to his greatest horror.

'a fleet of glorified pirates...'

'heart-rending...'

'As the Rightful King, I cannot stand and look from afar any longer...'

'sharpen your swords...'

Immediately he stood up from his throne and looked at his gathered ironborn.

"No more reaving! No more! The Stormcaller has made it so!"

All of the ironborn started to wear worried faces. Faces of guilt, to be precise. If the Emperor disapproves of it, surely he won't let it slide so easily? Not after so many settlements had been looted...

After spreading the word, Balon Greyjoy fortified the Iron Islands and ordered all of the Ironborn to return.

'Surely, he would remember all those battles in which I've humiliated the Usurper... his greatest enemy?'

~

"The Ironborn have retreated from land and went back to their Iron Islands!" A messenger entered Robert's camp.

Robert didn't know how to feel anymore... so he just laughed it out. "Dorne, the Reach, the Westerlands, the Crownlands... and now even the mad Balon Greyjoy has retreated from battle."

"Is that all?" Jon looked at the messenger with a rather conflicted expression.

"Yes, that was all.."

He left the camp and the trio sat alone once more.

"What would you do, Jon?"

"The Realm is falling apart and in the favour of Aerion, who was a mighty force on his own. With great regret, I advise that you stand down from this one. This isn't a fight that you can win, Your Grace."

"Ned?"

"I would bend the knee."

"..." Robert grit his teeth as those cold yet true words from his advisers and two greatest friends sank in. With the Ironborn retreat, there was no reason for him to stay in the western coast any longer. Only one path remained ahead; King's Landing... whether he wished to defy or bend.

"We are leaving for King's Landing."

He stood up and prepared himself for the journey... and what would come from it.