Bronze Beauty | Daemon Targaryen

War and Hunting Parties

Three Years Later - 115 AC

Fire blazed, and screams rang out as Aelyx flew through the smokey night air. Below him, the Triarchy forces shrieked as both they and their captive Westerosi soldiers burned under Vermithor's flame. Wincing, trying to beat down the guilt that rose in his gut, Aelyx went in for another sweep, the sound of Caraxes' distinct whistle roar sounding in the distance.

They had been at it for months, night raids and day raids at unexpected, random hours, trying and failing to get a foothold on Bloodstone, the largest of the islands. But every time they got one step forward, the Crab Feeder found a way to set them back through duplicity. The enemy seemed content to wait for the combined forces of Velaryon, Tarth and the troops that had followed his father from King's Landing, loyal only to the Rogue Prince, to either starve or spend themselves trying to take the many cave systems that dotted the island.

The Crab Feeder based his sneak attacks from these caves, often leading night raids into their camps, burning their supplies and sabotaging their ships. Even dragon fire, the Targaryen's greatest weapon, seemed useless when up against the rocky cliffs and deep cave systems.

After two more sweeps, Aelyx took a cantankerous Vermithor back to their camp, frustrated that, once again, they'd made no headway as he landed the massive dragon down in the clearing that had been repurposed at a dragon nest for Caraxes, Vermithor and Seasmoke. The picked clean, burnt carcasses of various sea creatures and meagre livestock they'd had sent from the mainland were littered throughout the space.

Long since desensitized by the smell of rotting corpses and the smell of human waste, Aelyx trudged back to camp, ignoring the wide eyes glares that followed him as he marched to the large tent that doubled as both a meeting place and Lord Corlys' tent.

It was coming up on the third year since Aelyx and his father had lent their aid to the Velaryon cause, three years of piss, blood and shit, all for the promise of a betrothal and favourable trade agreements with the Velaryons.

At first, the then fourteen Aelyx had been nervous but understanding of his parent's mindset concerning the proposal, but with every year he spent away from home and family, he lost patience and passion for the cause they fought for. The only thing keeping him there was his unflinching loyalty to his father, his commander these past years.

Nodding once at the guards that stood at attention in front of the tent, Aelyx walked in without warning. Taking his place next to his father at the table, he nodded silently at a sullen-looking Laenor, who like him, stood at his father's side.

Ser Vaemond Velaryon, the younger brother of Lord Corlys, was being his usual cantankerous self and was spitting vitriol as he looked at their map of the island and the enemy forces. With a snarl on his lip, he spat out, "Three years we've been at this, and for what, brother? Nothing, we have achieved nothing but the loss of our resources, men and pride."

Leaning forward onto the table, Corlys replied, "If we leave now, we've sacrificed too much for nothing. No, we press on. There must be a way."

"The Crab Feeder will never leave those caves, and he has them too well defended for our soldiers to take it by land. You keep talking about the power of the dragons, but they have been useless thus far. I say we cut our losses and go home."

"No." That was the only word Daemon Targaryen said before he turned on his heel and swaggered out of the room. With all of the arrogance of a well-seasoned commander.

Vaemond did all but spat on the ground as he snarled, "He would have us all dead before admitting defeat." Then, pointing after Daemon said, "We don't need him; we never have!"