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Chapter Text

It was Jace who came to the fore now, late in the year 132 AC. Mindful of the promise he had made to the Maiden of the Vale, he ordered Prince Joffrey to fly to Gulltown with Tyraxes. Munkun suggests that Jace’s desire to keep his brother far from the fighting was paramount in this decision. This did not sit well with Joffrey, who was determined to prove himself in battle. Only when told that he was being sent to defend the Vale against King Aegon’s dragons did his brother grudgingly consent to go. Rhaena, the sixteen-year-old daughter of Prince Daemon by Laena Velaryon, was chosen to accompany him. Known as Rhaena of Pentos, for the city of her birth, she was no dragonrider, her hatchling having died some years before, but she brought four dragon’s eggs with her to the Vale, where she prayed nightly for their hatching. The eggs from Syrax's most recent clutch where not her only charge her younger half siblings Prince Laenor (b.123 AC), twin princesses Aemma and Alyssa (b.124 AC) Prince Baelon (b.126 AC), Princess Visenya (b.129 AC), and Princess Daella (b.131 AC), were also sent to the Vale alongside their dragons, Laenor's Balerion, Aemma and Alyssa's Merexes and Terrax, Baelon's Vermithrax, Visenya's Nightfury, and Daella's Skywing.

Lady Rhaena’s twin, Baela, remained on Dragonstone. Long betrothed to Prince Jacaerys, she refused to leave him, insisting that she would fight beside him on her own dragon Moondancer. Though Baela also announced her intent to marry Jace at once, no wedding was ever held. Munkun says the prince did not wish to wed until the war was over, whilst Mushroom claims Jacaerys was already married to Sara Snow, the mysterious bastard girl from Winterfell.

The Prince of Dragonstone also had a care for the safety of his half brothers, Aegon the Younger and Viserys, aged nine and seven. Their father, Prince Daemon, had made many friends in the Free City of Pentos during his visits there, so Lady Rhaena reached across the narrow sea to the prince of that city, who agreed to foster the two boys until Rhaenyra had secured the Iron Throne. In the waning days of 132 AC, the young princes boarded the cog Gay Abandon—Aegon with Stormcloud, and Viserys with Morning—to set sail for Essos. The Sea Snake sent seven of his warships with them as escort, to see that they reached Pentos safely.

Prince Jacaerys soon brought the Lord of the Tides back into the fold by naming him the Hand of the Queen. Together he and Lord Corlys began to plan an assault upon King’s Landing.

With Sunfyre wounded near Rook’s Rest and unable to fly, and Tessarion with Prince Daeron in Oldtown, only two mature dragons remained to defend King’s Landing…and Dreamfyre’s rider, Queen Helaena, spent her days in darkness, weeping, and surely could not be counted as a threat. That left only Vhagar. No living dragon could match Vhagar for size or ferocity, but Jace reasoned that if Vermax, Syrax, Moondancer, and Caraxes were to descend on King’s Landing, even “that hoary old bitch” would be unable to withstand them.

Mushroom was less certain. “Three is more than one,” the dwarf claims to have told the Prince of Dragonstone, “but four is more than three, and six is more than four, even a fool knows that.” When Jace pointed out that Stormcloud though large enough to be ridden, was to small to a real threat, that Morning was but a hatchling, that Tyraxes was far away in the Vale with Prince Joffrey, both Queen Rhaenyra and Jacaerys demanded to know where Mushroom proposed to find more dragons, the dwarf tells us he laughed and said, “Under the sheets and in the woodpiles, wherever you Targaryens spilled your silver seed.”

House Targaryen had ruled Dragonstone for more than two hundred years, since Lord Aenar Targaryen first arrived from Valyria with his dragons. Though it had always been their custom to wed brother to sister and cousin to cousin, young blood runs hot, and it was not unknown for men of the house to seek their pleasures amongst the daughters (and even the wives) of their subjects, the smallfolk who lived in the villages below the Dragonmont, tillers of the land and fishers of the sea. Indeed, until the reign of King Jaehaerys, the ancient right to the first night had been invoked mayhaps more oft on Dragonstone than anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms, though Good Queen Alysanne would surely have been shocked to hear it.

Though the first night was greatly resented elsewhere, as Queen Alysanne had learned in her women’s counsels, such feelings were muted upon Dragonstone, where Targaryens were rightly regarded as being closer to gods than the common run of men. Here, brides thus blessed upon their wedding nights were envied, and the children born of such unions were esteemed above all others, for the Lords of Dragonstone oft celebrated the birth of such with lavish gifts of gold and silk and land to the mother. These happy bastards were said to have been “born of dragonseed,” and in time became known simply as “seeds.” Even after the end of the right of the first night, certain Targaryens continued to dally with the daughters of innkeeps and the wives of fishermen, so seeds and the sons of seeds were plentiful on Dragonstone.

It was to them that Prince Jacaerys turned, at the urging of his fool, vowing that any man who could master a dragon would be granted lands and riches and dubbed a knight. His sons would be ennobled, his daughters wed to lords, and he himself would have the honor of fighting beside the Prince of Dragonstone against the pretender Aegon II Targaryen and his treasonous supporters.

Not all those who came forward in answer to the prince’s call were seeds, nor even the sons or grandsons of seeds. A score of the queen’s own household knights offered themselves as dragonriders, amongst them the Lord Commander of her Queensguard, Ser Steffon Darklyn, along with squires, scullions, sailors, men-at-arms, mummers, and two maids. “The Sowing of the Seeds,” Munkun names the triumphs and tragedies that ensued (crediting the notion to Jacaerys himself, not Mushroom). Others prefer “the Red Sowing.”

The most unlikely of these would-be dragonriders was Mushroom himself, whose Testimony speaks at length of his attempt to mount old Silverwing, judged to be the most docile of the masterless dragons. One of the dwarf’s more amusing tales, it ends with Mushroom running across the ward of Dragonstone with the seat of his pantaloons on fire, and nigh drowning when he leapt into a well to quench the flames. Unlikely, to be sure…but it does provide a droll moment in what was otherwise a ghastly business.

Dragons are not horses. They do not easily accept men upon their backs, and when angered or threatened, they attack. Munkun’s True Telling tells us that sixteen men lost their lives during the Sowing. Three times that number were burned or maimed. Steffon Darklyn was burned to death whilst attempting to mount the dragon Seasmoke. A man called Silver Denys, whose hair and eyes lent credence to his claim to be descended from a bastard son of Maegor the Cruel, had an arm torn off by Sheepstealer. As his sons struggled to staunch the wound, the Cannibal descended on them, drove off Sheepstealer, and devoured father and sons alike.

Yet Seasmoke, Vermithor, and Silverwing were accustomed to men and tolerant of their presence. Having once been ridden, they were more accepting of new riders. Vermithor, the Old King’s own dragon, bent his neck to a young man no older than Prince Jacaerys called Trystane Truefyre, whilst a pale-haired young woman named Larra claiming to be the granddaughter of the exiled Princess Saera Targaryen mounted Silverwing, beloved of Good Queen Alysanne. And Seasmoke, who had once borne Laenor Velaryon, took onto his back a boy of ten-and-eight known as Addam of Hull, whose origins remain a matter of dispute amongst historians to this day.

Addam and his brother, Alyn (one year younger), had been born to a woman named Marilda, the pretty young daughter of a shipwright. A familiar sight about her father’s shipyards, the girl was better known as Mouse, for she was “small, quick, and always underfoot.” She was still sixteen when she gave birth to Addam in 114 AC, and barely eighteen when Alyn followed in 115. Small and quick as their mother, these bastards of Hull were both silver of hair and purple of eye, and soon proved to have “sea salt in their blood” as well, growing up in their grandsire’s shipyard and going to sea as ship’s boys before the age of eight. When Addam was ten and Alyn nine, their mother inherited the yards upon her own father’s death, sold them, and used the coin to take to the sea herself as the mistress of a trading cog she named Mouse. A canny trader and daring captain, by 130 AC Marilda of Hull owned seven ships, and her bastard sons were always serving on one or the other.

That Addam and Alyn were dragonseed no man who looked upon them could doubt, though their mother steadfastly refused to name their father. Only when Prince Jacaerys put out the call for new dragonriders did Marilda at last break her silence, claiming both boys were the natural sons of the late Ser Laenor Velaryon.

They had his look, it was true, and Ser Laenor had been known to visit the shipyard in Hull from time to time. Nonetheless, many on Dragonstone and Driftmark were skeptical of Marilda’s claim, for Laenor Velaryon’s disinterest in women was well remembered. None dared name her liar, however…for it was Laenor’s own father, Lord Corlys himself, who brought the boys to Prince Jacaerys for the Sowing. Having outlived all of his children and suffered the betrayal of his nephews and cousins, the Sea Snake seemed more than eager to accept these newfound grandsons. And when Addam of Hull mounted Ser Laenor’s dragon, Seasmoke, it seemed to prove the truth of his mother’s claims.

It should not surprise us, therefore, that Grand Maester Munkun and Septon Eustace both dutifully assert Ser Laenor’s parentage…but Mushroom, as ever, dissents. In his Testimony, the fool puts forth the notion that “the little mice” had been sired not by the Sea Snake’s son, but by the Sea Snake himself. Lord Corlys did not share Ser Laenor’s erotic predispositions, he points out, and the Hull shipyards were like unto a second home to him, whereas his son visited them less frequently. Princess Rhaenys, his wife, had the fiery temperament of many Targaryens, Mushroom says, and would not have taken kindly to her lord husband fathering bastards on a girl half her age, and a shipwright’s daughter besides. Therefore his lordship had prudently ended his “shipyard trysts” with Mouse after Alyn’s birth, commanding her to keep her boys far from court. Only after the death of Princess Rhaenys did Lord Corlys at last feel able to bring his bastards safely forward.

In this instance, it must be said, the tale told by the fool seems more likely than the versions offered by septon and maester. Many and more at Queen Rhaenyra’s court must surely have suspected the same. If so, they held their tongues. Not long after Addam of Hull had proved himself by flying Seasmoke, Lord Corlys went so far as to petition Queen Rhaenyra to remove the taint of bastardy from him and his brother. When Prince Jacaerys added his voice to the request, the queen complied. Addam of Hull, dragonseed and bastard, became Addam Velaryon, heir to Driftmark.

Yet that did not write an end to the Red Sowing. More, and worse, was yet to come, with dire consequences for the Seven Kingdoms.

Dragonstone’s three wild dragons were less easily claimed than those that had known previous riders, yet attempts were made upon them all the same. Sheepstealer, a notably ugly “mud brown” dragon hatched when the Old King was still young, had a taste for mutton, swooping down on shepherd’s flocks from Driftmark to the Wendwater. He seldom harmed the shepherds, unless they attempted to interfere with him, but had been known to devour the occasional sheep dog. Grey Ghost dwelt in a smoking vent high on the eastern side of the Dragonmont, preferred fish, and was most oft glimpsed flying low over the narrow sea, snatching prey from the waters. A pale grey-white beast, the color of morning mist, he was a notably shy dragon who avoided men and their works for years at a time.

The largest and oldest of the wild dragons was the Cannibal, so named because he had been known to feed on the carcasses of dead dragons, and descend upon the hatcheries of Dragonstone to gorge himself on newborn hatchlings and eggs. Coal black, with baleful green eyes, the Cannibal had made his lair on Dragonstone even before the coming of the Targaryens, some smallfolk claimed. Would-be dragontamers had made attempts to ride him a dozen times; his lair was littered with their bones.

None of the dragonseeds were fool enough to disturb the Cannibal (any who were did not return to tell their tales). Some sought the Grey Ghost, but could not find him, for he was ever an elusive creature. Sheepstealer proved easier to flush out, but he remained a vicious, ill tempered beast, who killed more seeds than the three castle dragons together. One who hoped to tame him was Alyn of Hull. Sheepstealer would have none of him. When he stumbled from the dragon’s lair with his cloak aflame, only his brother’s swift action saved his life. Seasmoke drove the wild dragon off as Addam used his own cloak to beat out the flames. Alyn Velaryon would carry the scars of the encounter on his back and legs for the rest of his long life. Yet he counted himself fortunate, for he lived. Many of the other seeds and seekers who aspired to ride upon Sheepstealer’s back ended in Sheepstealer’s belly instead.

Then word came from the Vale that the Lady Rhaena took the dragon Sheepstealer to mount and flew in the direction of Dragonstone. After burning Alyn, the dragon fled the Dragonmount and flew towards the mainland, in the end, the brown dragon was brought to heel by the cunning and persistence Lady Rhaena who delivered him a freshly slaughtered sheep every morning, until Sheepstealer learned to accept and expect her.

Thus did Prince Jacaerys achieve his goal. For all the death and pain it caused, the widows left behind, the burned men who would carry their scars until the day they died, four new dragonriders had been found. As 132 AC drew to a close, the prince prepared to fly against King’s Landing. The date he chose for the attack was the first full moon of the new year.

Chapter Text

The plans of men are but playthings to the gods. For even as Jace laid his plans, a new threat was closing from the east. The schemes of Otto Hightower had borne fruit; meeting in Tyrosh, the High Council of the Triarchy had accepted his offer of alliance. Ninety warships swept from the Stepstones under the banners of the Three Daughters, bending their oars for the Gullet…and as chance and the gods would have it, the Pentoshi cog Gay Abandon, carrying two Targaryen princes, sailed straight into their teeth. The escorts sent to protect the cog were sunk or taken; the Gay Abandon captured. The tale reached Dragonstone only when Prince Aegon arrived desperately clinging to the saddle of his dragon Stormcloud, with Morning safely nestled within Prince Aegon's arms, and hissed at any who approached.

The young prince was white with terror, Mushroom tells us, shaking like a leaf and stinking of piss. Stormcloud had been terribly wounded as he fled the Gay Abandon, arriving with the stubs of countless arrows embedded in his belly, and a scorpion bolt through his right shoulder. Aegon’s younger brother, Prince Viserys, had no way of escaping from the cog. A clever boy, he told his older brother to take Morning, saving her life, and changed into ragged, salt-stained clothing, pretending to be no more than a common ship’s boy, but one of the real ship’s boys betrayed him, and he was made a captive. It was a Tyroshi captain who first realized whom he had, Munkun writes, but the admiral of the fleet, Sharako Lohar of Lys, soon relieved him of his prize.

The Lysene admiral divided his fleet for the attack. One pincer was to enter the Gullet south of Dragonstone, the other to the north. In the early morning hours of the fifth day of the 133rd year since Aegon’s Conquest, battle was joined. Sharako’s warships swept in with the rising sun behind them. Hidden by the glare, they took many of Lord Velaryon’s galleys unawares, ramming some and swarming aboard others with ropes and grapnels. Leaving Dragonstone unmolested, the southern squadron fell upon the shores of Driftmark, landing men at Spicetown and sending fire ships into the harbor to set ablaze the ships coming out to meet them. By mid-morning Spicetown was burning, whilst Myrish and Tyroshi troops battered at the very door of High Tide.

When Prince Jacaerys swept down upon a line of Lysene galleys on Vermax, a rain of spears and arrows rose up to meet him. The sailors of the Triarchy had faced dragons before whilst warring against Prince Daemon, Princess Rhaenys, and Ser Laenor Velaryon in the Stepstones. No man could fault their courage; they were prepared to meet dragonflame with such weapons as they had. “Kill the rider and the dragon will depart,” their captains and commanders had told them. One ship took fire, and then another. Still the men of the Free Cities fought on…until a shout rang out, and they looked up to see more winged shapes coming around the Dragonmont and turning toward them.

It is one thing to face a dragon, another to face seven. As Silverwing, Sheepstealer, Seasmoke, Moondancer, Syrax, and Vermithor descended upon them, the men of the Triarchy felt their courage desert them. The line of warships shattered, as one galley after another turned away. The dragons fell like thunderbolts, spitting balls of fire, blue and orange, red and gold, each brighter than the next. Ship after ship burst asunder or was consumed by flames. Screaming men leapt into the sea, shrouded in fire. Tall columns of black smoke rose up from the water. All seemed lost…all was lost.

Several differing tales were told afterward of how and why the dragon fell. Some claimed a crossbowman put an iron bolt through his eye, but this version seems suspiciously similar to the way Meraxes met her end, long ago in Dorne. Another account tells us that a sailor in the crow’s nest of a Myrish galley cast a grapnel as Vermax was swooping through the fleet. One of its prongs found purchase between two scales, and was driven deep by the dragon’s own considerable speed. The sailor had coiled his end of the chain about the mast, and the weight of the ship and the power of Vermax’s wings tore a long jagged gash in the dragon’s belly. The dragon’s shriek of rage was heard as far off as Spicetown, even through the clangor of battle. His flight jerked to a violent end, Vermax went down smoking and screaming, clawing at the water. Survivors said he struggled to rise, only to crash headlong into a burning galley. Wood splintered, the mast came tumbling down, and the dragon, thrashing, became
entangled in the rigging. When the ship heeled over and sank, Vermax sank with her.

It is said that Jacaerys Velaryon leapt free and clung to a piece of smoking wreckage for a few heartbeats, until some crossbowmen on the nearest Myrish ship began loosing quarrels at him. The prince was struck once, before a bone-shattering roar was heard. Queen Rhaenyra atop Syrax, Lady Rhaena on Sheepstealer, and Lady Baela on Moondancer dove towards the ships, the men turned their attention to the dragons. Syrax dove upon the ships, rending them with tooth and claw and devouring dozens, and unleashed a fierce inferno upon the Triarchy fleet before swiftly retreating to safety. The Triarchy corsairs retaliated with a volley of arrows and scorpion bolts, narrowly missing the Queen, although three arrows managed to lodge themselves into Syrax's right-wing. The she-dragon pivoted to make another assault as Moondancer swiftly seized a Triarchy corsair with her foot claws, hoisting him high in the air before dropping him into the ocean. The corsair was now nowhere to be seen, swallowed up by the churning waters of the Narrow Sea.

Despite the arrows lodged in her wing, Syrax continued to rain down fire upon the enemy ships. Her dragonflame engulfed two more ships before the she-dragon deftly plucked a scorpion from the deck of one of the enemy vessels. She tore the weapon apart with her powerful talons, rendering it useless, before dropping it into the Narrow Sea. However, the proximity caused the Triarchy archers on deck to hit Syrax with six more arrows: two in the right flank, two in her thigh, and two along the length of the dragon's tail. But the arrows only served to make her angry. She swept down, spitting fire to right and left. Responding to his rider's commands, Sheepstealer released a scorching inferno toward the crossbowmen to protect Jacaerys. With the assistance of Sheepstealer and Moondancer, the Triarchy troops were momentarily distracted. Syrax was maneuvered closer, inching closer to her rider's son. Syrax closed the distance near her target, extending her wingspan to slow herself down while outstretched her clawed feet.

Prince Jacaerys, still adrift amidst the debris, and Vermax, still entangled in the rigging, desperately thrashed against the water as he fought to free himself. The young dragon clawed at a burning galley, hoping to find some leverage. As wood splintered and the mast came tumbling down, Vermax, still thrashing in the water, became trapped. When the ship tilted and sank, the young dragon fell with it.

However, the sinking mast's powerful pull yanked Jacaerys away from the wreckage, dragging him beneath the water's surface. His arms flailed against the dark and murky depths of the Narrow Sea. Just thought all seemed lost, Queen Rhaenyra successfully saved her son, and flew in the direction of Dragonstone.

The Battle in the Gullet raged into the night north and south of Dragonstone, and remains amongst the bloodiest sea battles in all of history. Sharako Lohar had taken a combined fleet of ninety Myrish, Lyseni, and Tyroshi warships from the Stepstones; twenty-eight ships survived to limp home, all but three crewed by Lyseni. In the aftermath, the widows of Myr and Tyrosh accused the admiral of sending their fleets to destruction whilst holding back his own, beginning the quarrel that would spell the end of the Triarchy two years later, when the three cities turned against each other in the Daughters’ War. But that is outside the scope of this tale. Though the attackers bypassed Dragonstone, no doubt believing that the ancient Targaryen stronghold was too strong to assault, they would exact a grievous toll on Driftmark. Sheepstealer and Moondancer flew in the direction of Driftmark, arriving just in time to save Spicetown. The first ship caught sight of them too late. Moondancer dove from the sky, a streak of silver against the night, and Baela gave the command, and a torrent of dragonfire erupted from Moondancer’s maw, a blinding stream of flame that tore through the sails of the first ship. The wood cracked and splintered as the fire engulfed it, turning the vessel into a roaring inferno. Screams echoed up from the deck as the crew scrambled to escape, but there was no escaping Moondancer’s wrath.

Lady Rhaena wasn’t far behind. Sheepstealer, larger and more powerful, unleashed a devastating blast of fire onto the fleet. Unlike Moondancer’s swift, precise attacks, Sheepstealer brought sheer force, obliterating the ships he targeted. The Triarchy had not expected an ambush from the sky. Although their fleet consisted of only twenty ships, they were heavily armed and prepared for a fight. Yet the dragons had caught them off guard, and the battle was fierce.

The Triarchy’s fleet had come prepared. Grapnels and scorpion bolts shot into the air, aiming for the dragons. One nearly hit Moondancer, whizzing past Baela, who urged her dragon into a sharp bank, avoiding a volley of arrows. One of the remaining dreadnaughts turned a scorpion toward them. Lady Baela acted fast; Moondancer was smaller, quicker, but it meant Baela had to fly dangerously low to hit her targets. The young she dragon swooped in low, releasing another deadly burst of flame onto the deck of the nearest ship. The men scattered, screaming as the fire consumed them. Moondancer swooped low once more, avoiding another grapnel that shot out from one of the ships.

A roar was heard, and Seasmoke descended. Together, Baela and Rhaena, along with Addam, ensured that Driftmark was protected. The Triarchy would not sack Spicetown.

The Triarchy’s ships were decimated within moments, reduced to flaming wreckage scattered across the harbor. But despite their success in the air, the damage had already been done. The harbor was ablaze, the flames licking at the docks and spreading inland. Though thankfully, the many ship wrights managed to hold the inferno back.

The Triarchy fleet lost over a third of its strength. Thousands died. Yet none of these losses was felt so deeply as that of Prince Viserys. In the confusion of battle, none of the survivors seemed quite certain which ship Prince Viserys had been on. Men on both sides presumed him dead, drowned or burned, or butchered. And though his brother Aegon the Younger had fled and lived, all the joy had gone out of the boy, the loss of Viserys too much for him to bear.