A Tale of Blood and Monsters Ch. 15

Year 280 AC

Tyrosh

Rhaegar Targaryen did not consider himself to be an arrogant man. He was prideful, certainly. Confident in his skills, undoubtedly. But then again, he had reason to be. Rhaegar was Prince of the entirety of Westeros, Scion to the Iron Throne and Heir to the Seven Kingdoms. He and every Targaryen had every right to be proud of the dynasty they'd created on Westeros.

As for his martial talent, there Rhaegar took a more personal pleasure and pride. That was all him after all, his own efforts and training channeled over the years into making him one of the strongest and most skilled and respected knights in the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. As he stepped off the boat onto the dock of Tyrosh, he looked to his traveling companion, who just happened to be one of the few knights he considered an equal peer.

Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning and wielder of the ancient family sword Dawn, looked around with a slight frown on his face, "I would have expected some sort of greeting, welcoming or otherwise… but nothing? What does this scoundrel think he's playing at?"

Rhaegar can't help chuckling in response, "I imagine it's an insult of sorts. A slight against me, an indication that I am the lesser between he and I. It lends some credence to the idea that this man is a Targaryen Bastard. He seems intent on proving himself my superior in any way he can. First, taking my betrothed and then forcing us to retrieve her… and now this snub."

Arthur snorts at that, looking around, "A costly snub perhaps. We are in full armor and armed with swords. Yet no one thinks to stop us from just walking into the city? Hmph, we could walk right up to this supposed bastard and shove Valyrian Steel down his throat before any could react, I imagine."

The seemingly careless words have their intended effect and draw a response from a nearby Tyroshi Merchant. The specifics of the reaction are what interest Rhaegar the most though. Instead of acting in anger or fear at the casual talk of assassination, the man scoffs and he does so openly. It seems the man derives humor from Arthur's comment, so Rhaegar raises an eyebrow and says, "Do you have something to say merchant?"

Called out, the Tyroshi finally gets a bit nervous, but he largely maintains his cool as he convulsively swallows before answering with, "No my lord."

Here, Arthur steps in, resting his hand on the pommel of Dawn and smiling viciously, "You stand before the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. The proper form of address is Your Highness. And I don't think that's quite the truth, is it? Speak, or lose your tongue."

Glancing around but finding no support from the people on the docks around them, the merchant frowns, not seeming all that cowed by the armed Knight's words, despite the severity. More resigned than anything, "Fine. You're both fools if you think you could possibly kill the Dragonlord, 'Your Highness'."

The scorn in the Tyroshi's tone as he addressed Rhaegar was obvious, but the Prince held up a hand to halt Arthur's imminent negative reaction, smiling pleasantly instead, "Is that so? And why is that merchant?"

The Tyroshi shrugs, "You don't think people haven't tried? The Valyrian Dragonlord took Tyrosh over night, but he did not do so without opposition. Many Tyroshi are dead now for the attempts on his life. But that's nothing compared to his true enemies. The Faceless Men."

Rhaegar and Arthur could only listen raptly as the merchant let out a humorless chuckle, "The Faceless Men have been trying to kill him since he arrived in Tyrosh, longer if you believe the rumors. And not just one or two of their order. This is a crusade against the Dragonlord, one that has failed, utterly and totally."

The handsome prince raises an eyebrow at that, "And how has it failed? Even on Westeros we know of the Faceless Men's prowess. How does this man stop them, how does he repel them?"

A scoff is what the knights get in response to that, "Man? He is no man… he can't be."

There's clearly a story here, and Rhaegar and Arthur are savvy enough to recognize that and stay silent. Eventually, the merchant begins to speak, "Before the Dragonlord arrived, Tyrosh was led by an Archon, as I'm sure nobles of your stature would know. Well the Dragonlord didn't kill him to take control of the city. No, something much more insidious happened. One day, the Archon was Tyrosh's ruler and the next he was announcing the change in leadership with a smile on his face."

"… But the Archon still did the work and was still mostly in charge. Until the Faceless Men got desperate a few months ago. Their normal poisons and assassination techniques had failed against the Dragonlord, so they turned to something more definitive. Wildfire."

Rhaegar's eyes widen at that and Arthur can't help letting out a disbelieving sound, followed up with the words, "You can't be serious."

The merchant just nods, not a single ounce of humor in his face, "The green explosion was unmistakable. The crater left behind by the Archon's old estate burned for days with just as unmistakable verdant flames. The Dragonlord and the Archon had been meeting there when the explosion took place. The Dragonlord was the only survivor, and witnesses claim he walked out of the ruins completely nude… but also completely unscathed!"

Despite the disbelief Rhaegar knew the merchant had to see etched across his face, the Tyroshi still finished what he was saying, shrugging in that resigned attitude from before, "So you see, he is no man. After all, the Faceless Men would not throw themselves again and again at a simple man. Nor would they fail. Whatever business you are here for 'your highness', I recommend finishing it up quickly, before the Dragonlord's eyes fall upon you."

The merchant makes to turn away but Rhaegar grits his teeth and stops him one last time, "Actually, we're here to see this Dragonlord. Where can we find him?"

With a blank face and tightly pressed lips, the Tyroshi points towards a large structure near the center of the city, rather menacing in its appearance. A palace of sorts or perhaps a castle? A thin smile and a nod is all Rhaegar gives the man in thanks, before walking with purpose towards the structure pointed out to him, Arthur close on his heels.

While that little fact finding conversation had been illuminating, it had also raised more questions. Ones he intended to have answered before he left this forsaken city with his bride and Arthur's sister safely at their side. It didn't take long for them to arrive at a set of gates for the palace, manned by guards wielding pikes. They were stopped of course, but Rhaegar and Arthur just placed their hands on the pommels of their blades and smiled.

Once again, Arthur was the one who spoke, "You stand before the Crown Prince to the Iron Throne, Rhaegar Targaryen. We seek an audience with the ruler of Tyrosh. He is expecting our arrival."

The guards remained stoic and unmoved by his speech. Rhaegar wasn't even sure that they knew how to speak the common tongue. After a moment, Arthur gave a sinister half smile that didn't reach his eyes, and stepped towards the guards. His posture and tone conveyed his message as clearly as his next words.

"You will let us through… or we will go through you."

This got a response as the two guards finally really looked at the two Westerosi, and then exchange a glance. After a moment, one nods to the other and the latter steps inside as the first takes up position in the middle of the doorway. Arthur is prepared to draw his sword, but Rhaegar steps forward and places a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling pleasantly.

"I do believe we're getting somewhere Arthur. Let's wait and see for a moment."

With a grunt, Arthur does as his prince commands. Sure enough, only a couple minutes pass before the first guard is back with someone else dressed in clothing instead of armor. The two Westerosi are granted entrance with little fanfare, Rhaegar smiling all the wider as he leads Arthur into the belly of the beast.

Finally. Progress.

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Year 280 AC

Tyrosh

My 'throne room' had not been designed for extravagance, despite its size. It had been designed to house a dragon, because that was just part of my eccentric charm. And so, I sat upon Niklaus' large scaled leg even as he twisted his head around so that I could scratch behind the ridges atop his skull, peering down at the Tyroshi claimants who came before me with their problems.

Off to the side, Elia and Ashara entertained themselves by teasing and messing with Oberyn, who had gotten very drunk on a very strong wine the night before. It seemed this younger Oberyn could not handle Valyrian Liquor. It made me wonder just how well the older Oberyn I only knew of through stories would have fared.

My musings, and the claimant I'm barely listening to, are interrupted by the arrival of the other half of Elia's rescue mission. Rhaegar Targaryen, Crown Prince of the Iron Throne and Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning, step into the room and cause a hush to fall as they're noticed. The pair aren't much better, as the first thing they see on arrival is of course Niklaus and then me. Mouths drop, eyes widen. Everyone is gawking at this point. It's awkward.

I use the moment to slip off my draconic perch with a smile on my face and clap my hands together, "Wonderful, you're finally here! Clear the room!"

Even the man who'd been speaking before their arrival knows better than to protest, and in moments there's nobody but me, my dragon, and the Westerosi men and women. Still grinning like a loon, I step up and give a short bow to both of my newest guests, "Your Highness, Sir Dayne. It's a pleasure to finally meet you both. But I'm sure I'm not who you're here for, mm?"

I step aside just in time for Ashara Dayne to barrel through where I'd been standing and hug her brother despite his full plate armor. It had to be uncomfortable, but she didn't seem to care, "Arthur! It's so good to see you!"

Her brother is clearly at a loss for words, probably still stunned by the actual living breathing dragon behind me, as well a bit thrown by his sister's clear exuberance as well. Meanwhile, Elia has made her way over at a more sedate pace, Oberyn sticking close to her side even as she came to a stop in front of a shell-shocked Rhaegar. Her presence directly in front of him is what finally tears his eyes off my dragon, as despite her diminutive size, she manages to block his line of sight for a moment and grab his attention. She smiles and inclines her head to him, "My Prince. It is good to finally meet you."

Rhaegar collects himself and manages a small, albeit shaky, smile in response, "And you as well my betrothed. You are well? Unharmed?"

Elia just smiles wider and nods, "Yes, Vali has been an impeccable host, a perfect gentleman. I am perfectly fine."

Seeing that my moment to interject has come, I clap my hands and draw their attention, "Right, well as touching as this all is, you all should probably be on your way. I have my payment and Elia and Ashara's things are already loaded onto your ship, Prince Rhaegar. We are done here. Ladies, it has been my pleasure."

While Ashara and Elia both smile at my courteous fair well, Rhaegar and Oberyn are growing stormy at the same time for different reasons.

"You dare imply my men craven enough to allow you on my ship?"

"Elia and Ashara will be coming home with me to Dorne, not King's Landing!"

As both register what the other has said, they turn the anger directed at me onto one another. Oberyn is the first to smirk though, "You will find that the Dragonlord is very adept at getting where he should not be allowed. It seems your men are no more loyal than mine were."

Rhaegar definitely makes note of the emphasis Oberyn puts on Dragonlord, a clear slight against his Targaryen heritage, but still manages a humorless smirk as he strikes at the other subject at hand, "Elia is my betrothed and my bride. Ashara is both her handmaiden and my friend's sister. They will be returning to King's Landing with us. I fully intend to honor the marriage arrangement between our two houses, or else I would not be here!"

Both men look ready to at best continue this argument for a while, or at worst come to blows. I wonder if or when I should step in, but before I can get past the considering stages, Elia does it for me. Stepping between her brother and future husband, she places a hand on each of their chests and catches their gazes, smiling softly.

"Please, do not argue, do not fight. Oberyn, I am in good health and there is no need for you to worry. I will go to King's Landing and marry the Prince. You will not fight me on this. And Rhaegar, you will certainly not begrudge me my brother's company on our coming voyage yes? He only worries for me, but if he is by my side I am sure he will be content."

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly given the circumstances, Elia's words reach both men and a moment later they're nodding, anger suddenly gone entirely. Rhaegar is the one who speaks, "Of course my love. It will be no hardship."

Oberyn speaks up a moment later, "As you wish sister."

Elia's smile grows wider still as she turns away from the two men and proceeds to lead the way out of my throne room, "Good! Come along then, we have a ship to catch!"

I cough, sounding almost apologetic as I stop the group's departure. I know I'm being rude, but I can't help one last jab, what with the information I'd received no more than a week ago, about a successful… operation some of my hybrids had undertaken.

"Before you go there is something I need to say to the Crown Prince, privately I'm afraid."

Arthur moves to protest that, but Rhaegar holds up a hand, "It's alright Arthur. Wait outside."

In a few moments it's just me and Rhaegar, and he has this small smile on his face as he steps closer, eyes focused on me instead of the large dragon behind me. Probably a dumb move considering my compulsion, but I have no intention of using that here. It would ruin the fun!

Smiling, I step forward as well, meeting him in the middle and clasping my hands behind my back. He speaks first, "Is this where you reveal yourself as another Blackfyre Bastard? Send me back to my father with demands for legitimacy or threats of an invasion of Westeros?

I chuckle and shake my head, "No Rhaegar Targaryen, it is not. I have a message, before I send you back to your father, but it is for you, not him. Simply put, rein him in."

He blinks at that, brow furrowing in confusion and a bit of irritation at the way I speak of his father and king, "What?"

"Rein him in. Your father grows unstable. Westeros grows unstable. I am not Targaryen. I am not a bastard of your blood. I am Valyrian, and you would do well to remember it. You would also do well to open your eyes to the truth. Your father is unfit to be king."

Rhaegar's eyes widen in fury at my presumption but I plow forward, "I received news recently of Westeros. I'm quite certain it is of interest to you. Apparently, there was an accident with the Royal Fleet. Much of it is gone, destroyed reportedly, by green flames."

The Prince's face goes from furious to shocked and I know he's made the connection. I smile politely, "Yes, I fear your father is dabbling with Wildfire, and as a result dealing with catastrophic consequences. I tell you this so that you may do something about it."

Predictably, Rhaegar sneers in response, "You tell me this so that I may do something about it? It is all too clear why you tell me this. Would a Targaryen Civil war weaken Westeros for you, so that you may more easily conquer it?"

I just shake my head and smile, offering no more words. I will allow the Prince to come to his own conclusions. After staring at me for a long moment, I reach out mentally and Niklaus shifts, snorting out a puff of smoke behind me and startling the young Targaryen from our little staring contest. Rhaegar's lip curls and he turns on his heel, departing from the throne room to rejoin his fellow Westerosi and depart from my city.

Watching him go, I step back and fall into the surprisingly comfortable embrace of my dragon, stroking the underbelly of Niklaus' chin and smiling wider and wider.

This was only the beginning.

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