1.14 - Aelyx

Aelyx - 13​

I threw myself on the bench across the table from my father.

"So, are the rumors true?" I asked.

"What rumor?" he grunted not bothering to look up from his ale.

I rolled my eyes; he knew damn well what I was talking about.

"Half the castle is gossiping about it. They are saying that the Magisters of Pentos have reached out to you about joining them in a renewed campaign against the Tetrarchy."

Another grunt answered me.

I hummed thoughtfully. There had been no mention of contact between Dragonstone and Pentos following Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage in Fire and Blood, which left me uncertain about how to respond. The visit was also a wake-up call as it reminded me that my action could have unintended ripple effects and that my memories were not an infallible script. After all, for all I knew maybe this visit did occur in the original timeline but had not made it into the history books.

Finally, after several moments of staring on my part and drinking on his, my father deigned to answer me.

"They are offering assistance in reclaiming the Stepstones in return for my support in a land-based offensive against the Triarchy"

My eyes widened. That definitely was not included in Fire and Blood. I frowned, tilting my head slightly I examined my father.

"You don't appear to be particularly enthusiastic about the idea."

He slammed a fist on the table.

"Damn right, I'm not. Who do they think I am? I am not their dog that they can just call up to savage their enemy for them. I am Daemon Targaryen. I was a King in my own right, I cannot be bought like some common sellsword"

"To be fair," I interjected. "It seems less like they are trying to buy you and more like they are proposing an alliance."

He scoffed, shaking his head in denial.

"It would be an unequal alliance at best. I would just be supplementing the Pentoshi forces with Caraxe in their thrust south, but in turn, I would be completely dependent on their ships and men to take the Stepstones back."

He had a point. If he reconquered the Steptones at the head of a Pentoshi army, he would be permanently bound to the Free City. Most likely as a junior partner.

"Besides who are they to offer me a crown? I could take back my kingdom anytime I please. I simply have no desire to."

And there it was, I thought. Beneath all the bluster he did not want to retake his kingdom because he had discovered that constructing a new polity from scratch, actually required work. My father had abandoned the kingdom he had spent a decade building, the kingdom that I had spent years expecting to inherit because he got bored.

"So, you're really not going to take them up on their offer?"

"No, I will not. I am the blood of the dragon and I refuse to indebt myself to a group of copper counters to take what is rightfully mine."

And with that, the matter was closed.

A glance and gesture to a waiting servant produced my own stein of beer. As I sipped the ale, I contemplated the matter of the Penoshi delegates and their offer. Before I had regained my memories, I had held out hope that my father would eventually renew his campaign in the region. For all that Corlys and Rhaenys had intimated that Baela was my father's primary heir, I'd always believed that should he regain his crown and fail to produce a son with Laena, it would be I who inherited his throne. Of course, between the birth of a trueborn son in Aegon and my new knowledge that Daemon would never again set foot in the Stepstones I had put paid to those dreams.

But now that the opportunity had presented itself, I realized that I had never truly let go of the idea. A part of me still burned for the idea of a realm of my own. I checked myself. Yes, the idea of using Pentoshi resources to reconquer the Stepstones was incredibly tempting. But I needed to consider if it was even practical or beneficial. The latter was easy to answer. On a personal level seizing control of the Stepstones would make me fabulously wealthy and very powerful. Furthermore, from a strategic perspective, between Dragonstone, Driftmark, and the Stepstones, the Blacks would effectively bracket the coastline of the Crownlands and the Stormlands. Combining that with our allies in the Vale and the North Rhaenyra would be able to dominate the Narrow Sea. Furthermore, Bloodstone could also serve as a staging ground for naval operations directed at the Reach and the Westerlands, if such a thing became necessary.

On the other hand, there were serious potential issues that I had to take into consideration. My father had spent years trying to build a kingdom out of those islands. For all the benefits that would come with controlling the mouth of the Narrow Sea, they would mean nothing if I found myself in a years-long quagmire, stuck with my attention turned to Essos while the situation in Westeros deteriorated. On top of that, I had to wonder if the islands even stay mine if I conquered them. The Pentoshi had apparently promised to aid the conquest itself but would they be willing to station troops on the island to turn back the inevitable Triarchy counter-offensive? And if they would the islands really be mine, or would I be their puppet, a ruler in name only, propping a Pentoshi client state?

There were other potential problems as well I acknowledged, glancing across the table at my father. I was unsure how he would react if I tried to claim his title. Would happily acknowledge my accomplishments or would he rage at my presumption? Would he be willing to sit back while I ruled from Bloodstone or would I find him on my doorstep demanding the crown he still claimed to be his? And if he did try and take such a course, what would I do? I would hardly be willing to surrender what I had won by the sword and dragon flame, but a clash with my father would be both disastrous for the Black cause and extraordinarily painful on a personal level. All my work to empower the Blacks would be for naught if I found myself isolated and alienated from Dragonstone.

I shook my head, bringing the spinning thoughts to a halt. I was rather putting the cart before the horse. At this point, I didn't even know the Pentoshi's full proposal. Before I continued my wild speculations about to potential benefits and ramifications of conquering the Stepstones I needed to track down the Pentoshi and get a better read on the situation than my father's angry grumbling provided. Seven Hells I did not even know if they would be willing to bargain with me. They had come looking for Daemon Targaryen, not his fifteen-year-old son. Dragon or not most people would balk at hinging a major military undertaking on a teenager.

I raised the stein to my slips and drained the remaining beer, before setting it back on the table. With a nod to my father, I slid off the bench and made my way out of the hall. As I walked the corridors, towards the guest wing I contemplated the best way to approach the Pentoshi. I couldn't simply barge into their room and offer myself as an alternate partner. Especially since I wasn't going to make any sort of promises until I had a full understanding of what exactly they wanted. No, I decided it was better to approach them as a potential intermediary between them and my father. If I liked what they had to say I could offer my services, and if I didn't, I could let the matter lie and no one would be any the wiser about the ambitions I entertained.

After several minutes of walking and one questioned maid, I found myself at the doors of the apartments where the Pentoshi had been quartered. I rapped sharply and the door was quickly opened by a slave, though I suppose they would be calling him an indentured servant on Westerosi soil. He looked me up and down taking in the fine cloth and cut of my garments.

"May I help you, my lord?"

Tell you masters that Ser Aelyx Targaryen wishes to speak with them."