The streets were layered with flowers in the Flatlands as they rejoiced in the culling of the Dothraki horde. The celebration was such that even colourful spice powders were layering the streets, and the people were in jubilation over their victory. The Magisters, landowners, merchants and slaves all rejoiced as one as the Dothraki prisoners were marched through the streets, their arms and legs chained and no weapon or horses on their person.
Personally, Reginald felt no great sense of victory over the defeat of the Dothraki horde.
The moment his prince took the field on his dragon, the outcome of the conflict was sealed in their favour. The sheer might of a dragonrider was intractable. No barbarian horde could withstand such power.
It was a simple truth: no army could fight a dragon and emerge victorious!
'Unless it was those damned Dornishmen.' Reginald quickly reminded himself.
He led the men of the Dragonshields along the paved streets of the settlement proudly in their pristine armour, carrying the fluttering amethyst dragon banner.
He doubted the men carrying his prince's banner had any loyalty to the prince. These were not honourable men holding chivalry in their hearts with a cause and a leader to fight for. These warriors were the sons of Essos. Their loyalty remained to silver and gold. Their words meant nothing, and their worth was even less in his eyes than a Dornishman.
But still, there were a promising few amongst these unruly men he hoped to forge into worthy warriors for his prince. The few sellswords that joined his prince's company were from the northern Andalos. Their faith in the Seven was queer, probably due to the undue influence of other Essosi religions and centuries of invasions. But they came when his prince called for warriors to him, and in time, Reginald hoped to impart some values of a knight to those men.
It'd be a mighty effort to train some of these Essosi sinners into the path of knights, but he hoped he could do the good work. The Seven would undoubtedly favour such a task.
'If only I had some septons to bring these mongrels back to the light of the Seven.' Reginald thought with a disappointing sigh.
There was one Sept in the harbour of Pentos where Westerosi traders and sailors prayed. But there were no septons or septas. Pentos remains a slave city, and the teachings of the Seven were incompatible with a slave-trading society.
But he was not so optimistic about these men even with a good septon.
Reginald cast his eyes at the people throwing the flowers as they passed while escorting the Dothraki the prisoners. He doubted at least ten free men or women were in the crowd. Most of them were most likely slaves.
It was hard for chivalrous men to thrive in a place like this.
'Essos is a place bereft of grace and decency.' Reginald thought grimly.
But still, he had to try for the sake of his prince and princess.
The crowd collectively clapped and chanted in jubilation as Princess Gael flew past over their heads on Dreamfyre. The gleaming blue scales of the she-dragon cast a visual treat for them all as it looked like a blue gem in the twilight sky.
His eyes once again fell on the bound prisoners from the Dothraki Khalasar. Most of them were women and children because few warriors survived the assault of Prince Aegon and the subsequent battle that followed with his men.
Reginald wouldn't even call it a battle, as it was a one-sided slaughter. The Dothraki were burnt by dragonfire, disoriented, fleeing in all directions and scared out of their wits. All his men had to do was throw their spears at the fleeing backs of the Dothraki barbarians and cut down the stranded few who lost their horses.
It was a bloodbath. He had seen the bandits of Westeros put up a better fight than these barbarians. It also helped these fools abhor any body armour, which made it easy for his men to cut them down.
Nonetheless, it was a resounding victory, and he was confident in his prince's plans for expanding the Dragonshields.
Reginald smiled as the princess made a few rounds around them on her dragon before landing near a field.
"Ser Jon. Take the Dragonkeepers with you and provide an armed escort for the princess." Reginald ordered.
"Yes, sir." Ser Jon said before galloping away on his horse with a small retinue of men.
Reginald watched the knight from the Sapphire Isle ride away. Jon Tarth was a young knight barely two namesdays older than Prince Aegon. The Sapphire Knight, as some had taken to call the Tarth boy, had ulterior motives for travelling with Prince Aegon.
However, those motives were entirely justifiable. The Sapphire Knight wanted to liberate his older sister from Lys's vile clutches. No doubt it was a noble quest but one that'd lead his prince to untold danger.
It was one of the reasons why he kept a close eye on Ser Jon despite finding the young man to be a good friend to his prince. To make matters worse, Ser Jon tended to have wandering eyes when it came to women, just like any man his age. Such weaknesses were intolerable in a place like this, where threats were aplenty.
Reginald felt the gods should've given him a hundred eyes and more to keep his promise to Queen Alysanne. As days went by, the threats surrounding Prince Aegon and Princess Gael only increased. It could be an alarmist Magister to a disgruntled cobbler on the street who could become a threat to the prince and princess.
It was his fervent hope that the King would ask the Prince and Princess to return to the Seven Kingdoms. It'd certainly make his job of protecting them easier.
"Please wait! Please wait, Ser!"
Reginald kept a tight hold on the reins of his horse as a man suddenly jumped into the street before him. He'd have ordered the men to remove this miscreant, but Reginald saw the man dressed in a shabby grey robe and showing off a seven-pointed star medallion on his neck.
"Ser, please. I have travelled from the hills of Hugor for an audience with Prince Aegon of the promised kingdom. We, the faithful, are in danger, and the Seven willing the defenders of the Faith must save us."
Reginald frowned thoughtfully as the man was manhandled away by the guards who were keeping order in the streets.
"Wait!" Reginald ordered, "Leave him be."
The guards let the man go, and the man came before him once again with a grateful look.
"You are a man of the Faith from the hills of Andalos?" Reginald asked curiously.
"Aye, Ser. I'm Alrec. I serve as a septon in the northern hills. I've come here to gain an audience with the prince and request his aid in the protection of a few villages in the hills."
Reginald didn't say anything for a moment as he was lost in thought.
'A septon from the northern hills of Andalos. Either this man is a disguised assassin or a genuine septon.' Reginald thought.
He supposed he could search the man thoroughly and question at his leisure. But if the man was a septon, it would solve many of their problems. The septon could become a proper shield against the Red Priests and their heretic ways corrupting the princess.
"Come with me. I must know some things before I request the prince to grant you an audience." Reginald said finally while rejoicing internally at this good sign from the Seven.
Clearly, his prayers were being heard by the ever-merciful Mother!
******
Reginald found the Essosi not much different from the Westerosi when it came to ceremonies. They were long, rowdy and loud as events progressed. The merchants and Magisters living in the Flatlands were quite grateful to Prince Aegon for his timely arrival. Their appreciation was shown by a flow of gifts into their waning treasury. Silver and gold came aplenty, as did precious gems, which made his job a tad difficult as he had to oversee the timely accounting of the gifts and watch over the Prince's safety.
It was not an easy job, but he managed it somehow.
Keeping stock of the shiny metals and gems was one thing, but some gifts were far more bulky and opulent. Magister Ehymhall gifted the prince a gold-plated chandelier. A wealthy spice merchant gave his prince a book with a silver hardcover with the ludicrous claim that the book came from Valyria. A jewellery merchant gifted the prince a warhorn studded with the finest sapphires. A finely crafted silver necklace with emerald gems was gifted to Princess Gael. Fine Myrish silk dresses, gold sceptres and other artful jewels were gifted to the prince and Princess by the wealthiest Pentoshi of the Flatlands. Casks of the most expensive Pentoshi wine were also gifted, but he immediately tested them with tasters for any traces of poison.
One Magister even offered a villa in the Flatlands and the surrounding lands for Prince Aegon to use as he saw fit. These were generous gifts indeed.
But these people were not merely just grateful to have survived a Dothraki attack.
No. There was an ulterior motive behind all of it. Reginald saw it leagues away despite all the simpering and hospitality given by the Pentoshi.
In the night, when the fires were running less bright, the Magisters and merchants came forward with what they wanted. It had taken them long enough, but Reginald was not so surprised to hear that the Pentoshi wanted the prince's help to remove the Dothraki from their lands.
It was not a controversial opinion to have. The Dothraki were the scourge of civilisation. They had proven to be as such repeatedly after they set fire to almost all urban settlements east of the Rhoyne. While he was no Essossi, he still knew how the ancient kingdom of Saranor and its tributaries fell to the barbarian Dothraki hordes after the Doom of Valyria. The tales of butchery and savagery of the Dothraki had even reached the shores of Westeros. Bards sang songs of rivers of blood flowing into the Shivering Sea from the former kingdom of Saranor.
The Magisters and merchants left after making their case before the prince. It was only the prince and princess in a solar of the manse offered by Magister Gherius.
"What do you think about this proposal, Ser?" Prince Aegon asked, his lone amethyst eye glowing eerily in the night while the fire in the fireplace cast dark shadows in the room.
"It's tall task to battle the Dothraki, my prince. I'd consider purging the savages a sacred work in service of the Seven, but…" Reginald trailed off with a grimace.
"We don't have the numbers and resources to proceed with such a conflict." said the prince.
"I'm afraid so, my prince." Reginald said.
It was the reality before them. They barely had three thousand fighting, most of whom were only loyal to the coin. The Dothraki were not an organised fighting army. They were nomadic savages who killed for pleasure. The Dothraki honoured no rules of combat. They attacked people indiscriminately, whether they were unarmed commoners or armed combatants.
"The High Priestess Yelena has promised the faithful servants of the Red God would answer the call to arms should you ask for it." Princess Gael piqued up with a charming smile, bringing cold dread into Reginald's heart.
"I have told you not to consort yourself with that woman. Do I need to take action instead of trusting you to behave, Gael?" Aegon asked firmly, pinning his wife with a glare.
"Yelena is…" Princess Gael started but was immediately cut off by an exasperated Aegon.
"… not a friend of our family, and she has ulterior motives." Aegon glared at his wife, making her scowl, "How many times must I tell you this?"
"It's clear that my opinions do not matter here, husband." Gael rose to her feet with grace.
"You may dislike the Red Priests, but they can raise you an army of fierce warriors loyal to us. They worship fire, and dragons have the most potent fire in the world. You who can overcome even dragonfire is a god to these people." Gael added before hastily making her exit with palpable anger.
"She is incorrigible. Once she sets her mind on something, it is difficult to dissuade her from it. I blame my grandmother for sheltering her for all these years." Aegon said heatedly with a glare at the doorway.
"The Princess seeks friends, my prince." Reginald said calmly.
"I am her friend." said Aegon.
"You're her husband." Reginald reminded his liege.
Reginald watched Aegon calm down after a moment.
"Gael might be obsessed with that infernal priestess, but she is not wrong. I could gather a larger following if I were to take her counsel." Aegon said, frowning thoughtfully into the Red Temple in the distance from out of the window.
Even from this distance, Reginald could see the red stones of the temple gleaming under the huge pyre built by the Red Priests for their queer festival. He didn't know what those heretics were doing but wanted no part in it. He also wanted his prince and princess far away from their vile clutches as well.
"I may have a solution for that, my prince. But we might need to travel further north." said Reginald.
"Explain." Aegon ordered and he presented the case of Septon Alrec of the Northern Hills without fail.
*****
Aegon stared keenly at Septon Alrec. It was the first time he met with a Septon from Andalos in person. All the other servants of the Seven were Westerosi. Foreign followers of the Faith were scarce, especially one from Andalos.
The old homeland of the Andals was lost to the Andals after they crossed the Narrow Sea to settle in Westeros. Most of the old Andals could be seen in the Vale of Arryn, while the rest of the Seven Kingdoms were mainly populated with converted First Men.
"Your grace." Septon Alrec fell to his knees and bowed with his forehead touching the floor.
Aegon raised an eyebrow as he looked at Ser Reginald in surprise at the strange reaction from the Septon. Ser Reginald opened his mouth but struggled to say anything and shrugged helplessly.
Aegon could only shake his head. He supposed the traditions of Andalos were slightly different than the Andals of Westeros. It was only natural to have huge differences after almost two thousand years of separation.
"Please rise." said Aegon.
Septon Alrec was thin, dangerously so that he suspected the man was fasting unto death. The man had brown hair and hazel eyes. Dark shadows ran under his eyes, and his cheekbones were clearly visible as the skin hugged closely to his face. The man also had darker skin like the Dornish, which made Aegon stay alert for any subterfuge. He wouldn't be surprised if the Dornish would take up the robes of a Septon to assassinate a Targaryen, especially him.
"Thank you, your grace."
"I'm not the King of Westeros. My grandfather sits on the Iron throne. I am merely a prince of the Seven Kingdoms." said Aegon.
"Forgive me, my prince. I did not know how to address you."
"It's alright." Aegon waved his hand dismissively while leaning forward in his seat, "I must say it is the first time I came across a septon from Andalos. I have often heard of tales of Andalos from Septon Barth, my former teacher in the matters of Seven."
"There are fewer septons in Andalos, my prince. I'd be surprised if you had come across one of us in your travels." Septon Alrec said with a grimace.
"I take it the Andals are not fairing well in their homeland." Said Aegon.
"We're being purged, my prince." Septon Alrec said, a lone tear falling from his eyes as he fell on his knees once more with a look of anguish, "The women are taken as slaves by the bandits and the Dothraki. The sellswords robe our people until we starve to death. The fairest of children are taken as bed slaves by slavers to be sold in the slave markets."
"Our septs are set on fire or pulled brick by brick by miscreants. Our people are sacrificed in fire to sate the hunger of demonic gods." Septon Alrec now sported a look of utter despair and horror, with his lips quivering as he explained the atrocities visited upon his people.
"The Warrior has forsaken us, my prince. No knights have been born in the Land of Hugor in the last thousand years. We are a fallen people, my prince, and you are our only salvation."
Aegon raised both his eyebrows at the particular declaration.
"You are! You are a prince of the Promised Land. Your family has united the Seven Kingdoms. Clearly, the Seven favour House Targaryen. Your presence will unite the people of Andalos, and you can lead us to salvation." Septon Alrec said desperately, with hope shining in his sunken eyes.
Aegon chanced a look at Ser Reginald, and the man nodded succinctly.
Aegon took a deep breath before he addressed Septon Alrec.
"You must know that my father exiled me from Westeros. It's possible that I might never return to my homeland." said Aegon truthfully, as he had no intention of taking advantage of a broken people by giving them false hope, "But… if what you say is true and you truly need a leader to help guide your people… I can try. I cannot promise you anything because I myself do not know what the future holds. The gods are ever mysterious in the matters of the fate of us mortals."
"That is all I ask, my prince. Your mere presence will bring stability to our lands. The Seven have brought you to these shores for our salvation. I can feel it, and soon, my people will learn this truth and unite under you." Septon Alrec bowed with his forehead touching the stone floor.
*****
Aegon watched the septon get escorted out of his solar and shook his head. He put his face in his palms and thought of the radical tangent his life was experiencing.
He had come into exile in a foreign land, built himself a sellsword company, and now he was planning on a religious upheaval in the hopes that it could attract more men to his side, all based on a silly dream. Ever since he was blessed with the sacred fire of Galeithox he had been dreaming of a distant island filled with blood and stone. His dreams were filled with a broken old stronghold surrounded by a deep forest.
So far, he had no idea how to find the mysterious land and the means to do so was denied to him after his exile from Dragonstone.
But that was no longer so.
Aegon eyed the Valyrian glass candle a jewellery merchant gifted him. He doubted the man knew the true value of a Valyrian glass candle. Or perhaps the man didn't even realise it was a Valyrian glass candle because it was painted with gold, unlike others of its kind, which were made with dragonglass. But one look at it and Aegon knew it was a Valyrian glass candle. His magic had been singing all day beneath his skin ever since he saw the candle.
Aegon placed his palms hovering around the glass candle and summoned the sacred fire of Gaelithox. The candle had already lit up with a yellow flame, taking a sliver of his magic. But that flame changed into white fire as Gaelithox's blessing consumed the glass candle.
His eyes gained far greater clarity as visions after visions flittered past.
"Show me, Andalos."
The Valyrian command controlled the chaos and directed his sight upon the desolate land of the Andals. His mismatched eyes glowed white as he reached across mountains and grasslands to see the truth with his own eyes. His scrying revealed the true nature of the land in far greater quality than the words of a septon.
He traced every settlement, road, bandit camp, the moving Dothraki Khalasars and the people who took refuge in the tall mountains of Andalos. He saw families sacrificing their daughters to the flames to satiate the hunger of the Red God. He saw genital mutilation, live burials, suicides and murders, all in the name of gods, greed and power.
In the stark darkness that consumed the land of Andals, he could only see small specks of light in these people. There were mothers hiding their children away from such horrors and fathers going on empty stomachs to feed families.
Aegon pulled back from the wide array of visions and sat back in his chair, sweating and out of breath.
Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and secured the glass candle in a cabinet before leaving his solar to get some sleep.
When he reached his bedroom, he was surprised that Gael was nowhere to be seen, and the mattress on the bed was also absent. There was only one pillow and a blanket on the large oak bed.
He was about to call for a servant to inquire about Gael's whereabouts when he noticed the doors to the balcony being ajar through a reflection in the mirror. He went to the adjacent drawing room of his chambers and found the door slightly ajar, with the curtains blowing inwards due to the wind.
When he went to close the doors, he found his stolen mattress, which was occupied by his missing wife. He could see her silver hair spanning the pillow even though the rest of her body were safely tucked under a black woollen comforter. The frustration that had built up within him bled away when he found his wife in such a state.
He wondered for a brief moment whether this was how his grandfather felt when he quarrelled with his queenly wife.
"A lovely dragon lies beneath a starry night,
Her hair as bright silver as any shining star,
All the stars in the sky cried in shame,
The lovely Gael so brilliant as the first light."
He sang melodically in High Valyrian, earning himself a brief peek from a pair of amethyst eyes beneath the black silk sheet.
Aegon walked forward and sat on the side of the mattress, which made Gael turn away from him.
"I suppose I could sleep here." he said candidly.
"No. Go away." Gael snapped.
"How can I abandon my beautiful wife to the stars? They might steal you away thinking you're one of their own." said Aegon, slipping into the bed and wrapping an arm around Gael.
"Don't be coy with me. You think I am simple-minded like everyone." she sniffled.
'Not simple but ignorant to the dangers of this world.' Aegon thought, but he didn't say it aloud lest he attract the ire of his dragon princess.
"I don't think that. I think you are sweet, lovely, beautiful, brave…"
"No, you don't! Else, why would you belittle me and deny my friendship with Yelena." Gael shouted as she sat up and pushed his arm away.
"I denied your friendship with Yelena because of what she is. She is no friend to you or me. She's a priestess of the Red Faith sworn to spread the religion. If she is being friends with you, it is to convert you to her faith." Aegon patiently explained for the umpteenth time.
"You can't know that! She is my only friend." Gael sniffled, her eyes watering as she stared into his own eyes.
"Am I not your friend?" asked Aegon, holding her cheek tenderly in the palm of his right hand.
A pair of tear drops fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
Aegon swiped them away with his thumbs as he took both of her cheeks in his palms.
"I abandoned my home and crossed the Narrow Sea to be with you." said Aegon.
"Only because my mother forced you." said Gael with a sob.
"Is that what you think?" Aegon chuckled as he shook his head, "Do you think anyone can force me to do what I don't want to do?"
"I could've just as easily left Dragonstone without marrying you. If I had done so, I'd be leaving behind my heart, which has always been yours."
Aegon took her hand and placed it on his heart.
"In this life and the next, you're my friend, lover and wife."
"Oh, Aegon!" Gael gasped with a heartful smile.
She threw her arms around Aegon and rested her head against his heart.
Aegon couldn't help but smile as she nuzzled into him. They spent the rest of the night beneath the stars, and for one moment, he believed his own words made in haste. When he looked up, he felt like the stars were indeed jealous.
AN:
To read ahead of the update schedule;pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre
For artworks: https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf