Legacy of the White Dragon : Dance of the Dragons

Notes: Earlier upload, I haven't rewritten the chapter before this yet only until chapter 20. But it has been rewritten and is ready for an upload. 

Criston Cole (108 A.C Thrid Moon) Targaryen encampement outside Little Tyrosh

He stood waiting beside Bennard Stark, when Aemon approached the command tent with Farrick and Harold at his side. Not having the nightguard, he had waited here until his Prince was ready to join him. His thought wondered then 'Aemon Targaryen, a man ten years his senior, was someone he admired. It made him feel proud to fight beside the man – The White Dragon, rider of the Black Dread, and Prince of Dragonstone. War marked this year, and he followed his commander into battle, making him admire him even more. Aemon was a brilliant strategist, and his battle valor was unparalleled. In that year, Harrold spoke to him about Aemon and the Kingsguard. "Prove yourself, and you will become one of the best Kingsguard. Aemon, however, is something else. I have followed him around since he could walk. If you want his loyalty and him to respect you, speak true and hold strong in your beliefs. Never have them flatter."

He had taken it to heart, and it seemed Aemon was a man who didn't care if he was part Dornish or common-born. He was only interested in his skills, and they had sparred many times, yet he had yet to win. Only with Ser Harrold were they able to beat the Prince on occasion. However, he suspected it wouldn't have happened if it had been a fight with the ability to kill. He had noticed his own skill increasing the more he sparred with the Prince and got to know the man behind the moniker of The White Dragon.'

"My Prince," He said as they came. "Ah, Ser Criston, are all the commanders within?" The Prince questioned, and he nodded. The Prince smiled at him before touching his cousin's shoulder.

"Well, Bennard, be ready. Your first war meeting – observe, and don't speak unless spoken to." The Prince spoke in an authoritative but guiding tone toward his cousin, who had become his second squire and had arrived a moon before Sunstone before the assault on Little Tyrosh would begin.

He opened the tent's flap and followed his Prince into the tent. "My lords, seeing you all hale and healthy is good. Some I have not seen since we last spoke on Tarth. Some have already been sent to The Father, to their ancestors, or wherever they may find peace in death," Aemon said as he walked into the room and addressed the gathered lords.

"Well, so far, the war has been going well. The western Stepstones are ours and under our control, as are The Last Refuge. Only The Skull remains to be taken to start the blockad. However, the Triarch has been pressing us hard to supply the other aisle. The crab feeder himself has attacked some of our patrols close to the center. I want to send a message, which is why we are here. Taking Tyrosh itself would start a total war war between us and Triarch. Hower Little Tyrosh would give us that chance to send them a message and keep it for them to see as a proxy war. Also, the capture of Little Tyrosh allows us to gain perhaps the best supply hub in the region for our future blockade," Aemon spoke clearly, leaving nothing out.

"It will make them fearful. Neither of us wants a total war. But I have one last option if they declare a full war upon us. Balerion and creating another Harrenhal in the territory of the Triarch. This last resort of preventing the Triarch from declaring war." He shuddered at the thought of Aemon creating another Harrenhal, as did some of the others gathered, and deep down, he knew full well Aemon would do it if he had to. Aemon might be a fair ruler, but he wouldn't hesitate to act.

"Well, now that is out of the way. Tomorrow, the assault shall begin, and remember one thing. If I see any form of raping, senseless killing, or destruction, Balerion shall be your end station. It doesn't matter if you are highborn or lowborn. Perhaps Seasmoke might also fancy a snack." The words hung when they were spoken. Aemon hadn't been clear like this since they departed from Tarth. Although this was a siege, the histories had spoken more than often of men acting like beasts. "He might, good-brother," Laenor quipped in answer.

"As for the slaves, we will free them after we put them to work and set up a garrison to hold it. The locals might not be too happy with us, but there are always more slaves in the cities. Any master that holds a slave will be dealt with, their wealth taken to help with the start-up of a new city and create order. Slavery will never be rewarded." 'Slavery was disgusting. If there was a thing he learned to hate, it was slavery. In the campaign, they had liberated them, and on occasion, they weren't treated better than animals or worse.' He thought in disgust.

"Well, as for the assaults, Balerion and I shall burn down two gates from where you will attack the city. Ser Harrold shall lead the western attack, and Lord Borros shall lead the eastern attack. Use ladders to take the walls if needed, but I suspect Balerion and Seasmoke will roast most of their men. I don't want them to be able to fire down upon us when we are in the streets," Aemon said, looking, and the rest nodded.

"Lord Admiral, you will make sure no ships escape. Don't sink them. I suspect they might have loaded them with part of their treasury. It wouldn't be the first time an overlord would flee their city and leave the citizens to their fate." Lord Corlys nodded and spoke, "It shall be done, Prince."

"After I have burned the gates, I shall make sure the ships only go straight for you. Then Tyrosh will learn why I'm the dragonwolf, son of Ice and Fire." Aemon said with a smirk, and he knew precisely what Aemon meant with it. 'The Tyroshi would be in for a surprise.' He thought with a smirk.

"After you have taken their ships, sail into the harbor and advance to the main keep. Or whatever the exact administrative building of this city is. Hopefully, after Balerion and I have started our attack, their resolve should be weakened, and the city should fall easily enough. Take your orders to your men and have a good night's rest. You're all dismissed." Aemon said, and with the commanders, left for their chargers.

"Well, Bennard, see to your direwolf, spend some time with it, as tomorrow you shall fly with me. For now, you are dismissed; I wish to speak with Ser Criston alone." Bennard caped at his cousin, and with an extra nod from Aemon, Bennard left the tent in a hurry.

"So, this shall be our first siege. Any thoughts?" Aemon questioned after he poured some wine on them both. He drank the Arbor gold, burning his throat before he answered. "Well, My Princ…" but Aemon interrupted him before he said more. "Criston, what did I say? Not Your Grace or My Prince. When we are alone, call me Aemon."

"Sorry, Aemon, a force of habit."He added quickly. "Don't apologize, it's fine. As for the siege, what do you think?" Aemon questioned again with a smile.

"Well, not too sure, Aemon. I will not be grounded, but it will be a sight with you on Balerion back. As for your warning to the men of doing unspeakable acts, I suspect senseless loss of life might happen anyway. Even when I was young, fighting in the Dornish marches, there was a senseless killing. As for the siege, with thousands of men in their blood pumping hot, it will happen, even with the threat of the Black Dread. I suppose senseless blood shall be spilled tomorrow." He had thought on the question as he answered, and true, all men could become monsters in the fog of war.

"Yes, when we high lords play our games, innocence will always bleed," Aemon said, shaking his head. "Consider what Aegon the Conqueror did to unite the realm, but with two acts, he slaughtered thousands, some innocents just following the liege. Harrenhal had many innocents inside, but if he hadn't made an example for not bending the knee, how many more lords would not have bent the knee? Then you have more battles and more loss of life. Sometimes, you act more brutally than you have in one moment. So the next time, you don't have to do the same thing again or kill thousands on the battlefield." Aemon finished, and perhaps it was true.

"Wouldn't that be brutal and unjust, killing so many innocents?" He questioned, and Aemon snorted. "Why is it unjust? Why is killing thousands in moons and many years-long wars not injustice? How many would, in the end, perish? What if this war starts just before winter? No harvest, no true preparation for winter. How many would die of starvation in winter? How isn't that unjust?" Aemon asked.

He swallowed, and in these moments, he felt like a commoner, still learning. He wasn't a high noble; all he cared about was rising high and having food in his belly. Aemon had learned to rule at a young age and had to make calculations and decisions. "You're right, Aemon. It might not be better. Still, the act turns the stomach." Aemon smiled at his reaction.

"True, as long as the act still repulses you, you can still rule with the right mind. Otherwise, every decision you make is cold without thought of mercy. Or worse, you overcorrect your choices and become Maegor the Cruel." Aemon said.

"Well, Aemon, I can wholeheartedly say you are as far from Maegor as anyone I have ever met. Perhaps you will be the greatest King since Jaehaerys, or even greater. I hope to see it, and it has been an honor to fight at your side." He said, and he meant what he said with all his heart.

"I thank you for your support, Ser Criston. It has been an honor to fight with you as well. You have held yourself high so far as the newest member of the Kingsguard." His own heart swelled with pride at Aemon's words, and he nodded in gratitude. "Now, let's drink some more before tomorrow; we launch ourselves into the fray." Aemon filled both their cups again; they toasted and drank full in merriment.

Aemon Targaryen (108 A.C Thrid Moon) Targaryen encampement outside Little Tyrosh

It was morning, and he donned his armor with the help of his squires. Laenor and Bennard were diligent in their work, although Laenor had become fast friends with another squire, Joffrey Longmouth, who was the squire of four-ten of Boros Baratheon. House Longmouth was one the lesser houses of the Stormlands houses and was sworn directly to Strom's End and the Baratheon's. It seems again a Longmouth had found a Velayron.

"Well done. Now, help each other and equip your armor. You both will be in the sky soon enough. Riding like the conqueror and his sister's, don't you think, brother, or like Baelon and Aemon when they destroyed the Dronish fleet." He said as Laenor and Bennard walked out of the tent. "Yes, brother, for sure. A story for the history," Laenor said and smiled as he followed Bennard out of the tent.

He looked at the map of the Narrow Sea on the desk. Gracing Kingslanding and Dragonstone, where his heart lay, and now his first son was born, and his thoughts wandered. 'He missed the birth and could never be his father, but perhaps he was a concerned uncle. He would hopefully be a happy father for Rhaenyra's and Laena's children with him. If they came, he would be happy beyond the joy his child would hold and protect. Something he would never have had and only had glimpses of hoping for when he was with Ygritte and Daenerys.'

That hope, the family he had now, he would make sure he would live for those who loved and for those who loved him. He stepped out of his tent, and the morning was still starting. The sun was coming up from the east, and the area was hailing in an orange glow. As he looked to his right Ser Harrold and Ser Criston waited. "Ser Harrold, Ser Criston, got morning slept well?" He asked them, and both nodded in turn. "Good, it shall be a long day, Ser. You're dismissed. Take care of the Oathguard for me." He said, looking at Ser Harrold. "Yes, My Prince, I will see it done. I shall not disappoint you." Ser Harrold walked away afterward, donning his helm and walking to the men he would be leading through the gate.

"Ser Criston, let's find Leanor and Bennard and be ready for war." He said with a smirk. He walked toward the tents his squires had slept in. As he walked toward them, he scanned the area. Men were running around, giving nods as they passed him. Some even bowed as a by-product of being a royal. 'Some he would never get used to. Perhaps it was for the best, and he never wanted to become as a vain and arrogant prick as some of the highlords were.' He thought and rubbed his temple.

Laenor and Bennard stood in silent anticipation, both ready as commanded. Laenor's valyrian steel breastplate gleamed with an ethereal sheen adorned with the majestic seahorse of House Velaryon. A crimson dragon proudly adorned each shoulder guard, a testament to his Targaryen bloodline. True to his Northern roots, Bennard wore the garb of his icy homeland - a leather tunic emblazoned with the fearsome direwolf sigil, beneath which lay a sturdy ringmail vest. "You both look well. Come, Seasmoke and Balerion are waiting." He commanded, and they both flowed him.

Outside the camp, the army waited, ready for the final order to begin the assault on Little Tyrosh. The more he heard the name, the more it sounded lame. Did they Tyroshi or the Valyrians? He didn't know who named the place, not to be more inventive.

He looked toward his right, where Balerion and Seasmoke waited. A kilometer away, the City of Little Tyrosh waited for the cries of war. He walked in front of his men and spoke loudly for them to hear. "Today, we shall teach Essosi why not to mess with the Westeros. This city's name for their other proud city will stand as a testament to what happens when you test us." He paused as they cheered loudly. Shouts of dragonwolf and Aemon all appeared in the chants.

"I could talk about our gods as we go into battle, but they have no place where we are going. Or I suppose the Stranger, but I imagine none of you want to meet him, so show him you don't," he roared, and Balerion blasted a throned of black flame into the air.

"I could talk about honor; you are all here. I suppose you will act with honor." He looked around at the first rows of men, who bashed their weapons against their shields or chests. "I don't care for what you fight today, for the gods, for wealth, or honor, as long as you fight!" He roared, unsheathing Frostfrye, his Valyrian steel Greatsword, and holding it up for all to see. "Now, march and take this city!" The army roared in answer, as did the dragons.

He marched toward Balerion, and his army moved toward the city as the drums of war started. "Ready, my friend, ready for fire and blood," he asked in High Valyrian, petting Balerion's snout. "Yes, my friend, let's teach them to fear the might of the dragons." Balerion puffed up smoke as he was launched into the air, with Ser Criston and Bennard saddled behind him. Seasmoke followed them into the air.

Balerion climbed high. "Higher, my friend. We shall dive, torch the walls of men, and then batter the gates." Balerion roared in response, flapping his wings and climbing higher into the sky. As the city lay below, "Hold steady, we are going to dive," he spoke to Ser Criston and Bennard.

Then Balerion dove down toward the city's battlements. "Dracarys," he shouted as Balerion bathed the city walls in flames, turning soldiers to ash. Arrows flew past Balerion and against him, but they just bound off, and the men of Little Tyrosh burned with cries of agony, filling the air. Balerion's flames burned so hot that parts of the stone melted, and the men died seconds after the flames touched them. Seasmoke followed behind him with a second blast of flame, targeting the areas untouched by the first.

As they arrived at the city's western side, "Well done, my friend. Now go toward the gate and blast it open." Balerion roared and landed; he was so large that he couldn't hit the gate without landing. It was dangerous, but with the walls cleared of men and scorpions and with the support of Seasmoke, it was less dangerous—still not safe, but safe enough. "Dracarys." Balerion blasted flame, cracking the wooden parts with its force and melting the iron in the gate. It was open, and behind the group led by Ser Harrold stood ready to attack, cheering as they saw the gate fall.

"Move," he shouted, and Balerion launched back into the sky, flying toward the eastern gate as they left the western gate a smoldering ruin. As they flew toward it, he saw the western group marching, shields shielding themselves from arrow fire. Although most were decimated by dragonflame, the group still had time to march slowly as the gate was still too hot to pass through. However, behind the line were several carts with water to stop the fires and cool the heat of the flames.

As they reached the city's eastern side and landed, he praised his scaly friend triumphantly. "Well done, my friend!" Balerion, unfazed, turned toward the city gate. With a fierce roar, the dragon bathed the second gate in flames, melting iron and cracking wood, creating a passage for the waiting forces. Boros also roared a command to let his men move toward the city.

"Strength to the fighters," he roared to his men as he flew over them after taking Balerion back into the sky. "Strength to the fighters!" His men shouted it return.

As his gaze sweeps over the city, observing the chaos below, Balerion casts a looming shadow over the soon-to-be-conquered city, and he looks back to see if his men breached the western gate.

He looked at the city and then toward the harbor, suspecting that the ships were leaving. "To the harbor, trap the ships; they can't escape." He ordered, and Balerion dove down. As they dove, Balerion roared, and a scorpion bolt struck his left wing. The wing membrane was so thick that the damn bolt got stuck inside it. Balerion bathed the tower from which the bolt came in flames as black as night.

"Are you alright, my friend?" he questioned Balerion mentally as they dove further down. "Yes, just a little prick in the arm." Balerion puffed up the smoke before bathing the nearest harbor tower in black flame.

Then another shriek came, but from behind.

Corlys Velaryon (108 A.C Thrid Moon). - Little Tyrosh Coast

He hadn't expected Aemon's plan when he had written to him, asking him to come to Sunstone and discuss the best way to unsettle the Triarch and prevent them from declaring full war. The Triarch and The Iron Throne were both third parties in this conflict. Taking the city of Little Tyrosh would make it clear what would happen if they did.

Still, Aemon's plan wasn't wrong. The conquest of the city would grant them a powerful supply hub, already developed and ready for use. Sunstone and the other outer Isles were being built up but didn't have the capacity of those in Westeros. With only Skull Isle still to fall, and the blockade would start, the tyranny of Crabfeeder and his brigands would end.

Then, the roar of Balerion's echoed across the waters, signaling the start of the battle. He saw the smoke rising in the sky as the dragons roasted all those foolish enough to stand in their way.

"Lord Admiral, ships are moving in the bay. About twenty or more are moving," his brother Vaemond spoke. His brother had been a valuable asset, leading the ships when he wasn't around. Now, they led together, with Vaemond as his right hand. It didn't bother him even if his brother had sworn future service to Aemon. He could only help as much in his brother's advancements. Aemon was the Crown Prince and could increase Vaemond's prospects in the future. He wondered if his brother would be one of the new lords in the Stepstones' holdings. It would certainly help increase his family's prestige if that happened.

"Prepare for boarding. Aemon will soon make them come toward us," his brother nodded and went off to signal to the other ships in the fleet.

As the ships in the harbor started to move out of the protective area, he saw the two dragons flying toward the harbor, taking down the final scorpion towers. But as he looked, he heard Balerion's distinctive roar and saw a scorpion bolt embed itself in the dragon's wing, yet as looked at, is looked more like a plinter than a scorpion blot because of the dragon's size. 'Incredible beast,' he thought as he watched Balerion bathe the supposed tower in flame.

He saw his son fly over the other side with Seasmoke to attack the other tower. "No, no, please no," he shouted as his son's dragon descended when a bolt struck Seasmoke's left wing at the shoulder. "Laenor!" he wailed in terror as the dragon landed on the ground inside the city walls. The smoke and dust were heavy, and he couldn't see what was happening.

Looking at the upcoming ships and the harbor, he murmured, "No, please let my son be okay." The battle drums sounded across the ships, and the first battleships boarded the incoming Tyroshi. "Damn the Seven Hells," his mind was too cloudy to focus.

"Lord Admiral, we are getting close. Some of the Tyroshi ships are splintering off to the sides, trying to escape. Your orders?" one of his sailors murmured. "My Lord, your orders."

"Yes, give orders to pursue them. No ships are to be allowed to escape," he looked back at the harbor, where more flames of black and grey were being spouted. He saw Balerion bathe the surroundings in flames, his massive head poking above the walls of the city. However, he couldn't see what was happening there as the smoke and distance were too much for his vision. He only prayed that Aemon and Laenor were all right.

Then he saw as the first ship came close, and he threw the boarding hooks. Too broad, they captured the enemy vessels. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked to his right. "Brother, focus. We can't do anything right now for your son. All you need to do is stay alive and lead us through this battle." He nodded toward him and grabbed Aemon's gift, the great axe of Valyrian steel he decided to call the Sea Wrath.

He inhaled deeply as he spoke, "Men, come and let's go kill these cowards that abandon their city like rats in its hour of greatest need." He jumped across to the other ships and, after crashing against the side of the Sea Snake, found his first combat. It soon ended as he slashed the axe down at a man who tried to block with his shield. The Sea Wrath cut through the shield and cleaved off the man's hand, leaving him wailing in agony as the shield with the hand clattered on the deck. He swiftly ended the man with a cut through the neck, leaving the head rolling on the deck.

He looked to his right as men screamed, "You bastard!" A man slashed at his left with a Tyroshi-styled saber. He blocked with the staff of the Sea Wrath and slashed upward, cutting through gambeson and a leather vest, leaving a bloody mess of the man's chest. The man cried in pain as he stumbled and fell to the ground.

He looked as his men joined him, veterans of many battles like this, and together, they carved their way through the ship. When it was done, he ordered the ship to be guarded by his brother and left for his next victim.

As the chaos of the fight on the ship faded and the adrenaline of battle faded, his thoughts returned to the harbor, where no signs of the dragon were any longer. Only a smoldering pile of stone and rubble. "Where are they?" he said, keeping an eye on the sea as if seeing ice on some of the Tyroshi ships that had escaped toward the sides. 'Why was there ice in the Narrow Sea?' He thought, confused, and then he heard the roar of Balerion again; the dragon still had a scorpion bolt in its wing. 'Where was Seasmoke? Was the dragon of his son was no longer in the city? Did Aemon abandon his.' He thought.

Then Balerion dove down, bathing the outer ships of the Tyroshi in what he could only describe as a beam of ice. Aemon aimed at the sides of the ships, now caked in ice, unable to move or with their oars frozen in the holes. He saw his men cheer as they saw Aemon's intent. The enemy ships were stuck, unable to move, and ready for boarding. He suspected now that Aemon had planned to freeze both sides of the harbor to ensure the ships could only go straight into his waiting fleet. But Seasmoke's fall had put a hold on that plan. Now Aemon was doing the same, although it had to be done ship by ship.

"Come, move toward the next ship," he ordered, and the Sea Snake was underway to its next prey. All the while, he wanted to know what had happened to his son.

Hello everyone!

If you've enjoyed my stories and would like to support my work, consider joining my community. Your support means the world to me and helps me continue creating the content you and I love.

By becoming a patreon, you'll get access to exclusive benefits like:

- Early access to new chapters

- Writing and story updates.

- Access to concept art for the stories.

- And, of course, you will support me.

- And much more!

Join now and be part of a community that loves and supports creativity. Your contribution makes a huge difference and allows me to keep bringing you exciting new stories.

If you want to join, go to Patreon. Copy this link : www.patreon.com/HeroDut1998

Thank you for all your support!

(This link will be added to all the stories that will hit five chapters)