Braavos stands as the most unique and powerful of the Free Cities. Comprising a chain of islands at the far northwestern edge of Essos, it lies at the meeting point of the Narrow Sea and the Shivering Sea. It is also the nation in Essos today that fears the least and dares the most to challenge the Targaryen dynasty's hegemony.
In the past, Westeros endured more than a decade of the demon wars. This conflict, though unforeseen, granted Braavos a precious respite. During that time, the city-state eagerly studied and absorbed the Targaryen dynasty's advanced systems and technologies, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Now, its overall strength ranks second only to the Targaryen dynasty in the Known World.
When the forces of the Westeros Protectorate advanced with thunderous speed by both land and sea, racing to reach Braavos, they found the Targaryen forces already met by a fully prepared Braavosi army. The instant the two sides clashed, fierce battle erupted, and the struggle quickly settled into a deadlock.
Though the Protectorate's navy fought with high morale, Braavos's fleet was far from ordinary. Familiar with these waters, they relied on advanced ships and flexible tactics to engage the invaders in brutal combat. In the battles that followed, the Protectorate's forces were clearly at a disadvantage, losing far more than they won. Casualties mounted, and their warships suffered heavy damage under enemy assault.
The Protectorate's land army fared no better. When they set foot on Braavosi soil, they met carefully laid defenses built along the marshes, blocking their advance. The Braavosi army exploited the islands' complex terrain, filling the jungles and swamps with traps and ambushes. Every step forward cost the Protectorate dearly.
Just as the situation grew critical, the Targaryen navy finally arrived. The royal fleet, the kingdom's navy, and the great lords' ships surged onto the battlefield in such numbers that their vast armada blotted out the sky. Their arrival breathed new life into the Protectorate's navy, reinvigorating their morale.
With superior numbers and equipment, the Targaryen fleet launched a fierce counterattack. Catapults hurled massive stones, crashing into Braavosi vessels with deafening explosions. Arrows rained down like locusts, tearing into enemy decks and throwing the Braavosi navy into chaos.
As the fighting dragged on, the tide began to turn. Driven back under relentless assault, the Braavosi navy still resisted stubbornly, unwilling to yield.
It was then that Emperor Aegon II arrived, astride the towering, fifty-meter-long Ghidorah. The dragon's colossal body wheeled through the sky, its three heads unleashing roars so thunderous they seemed to shake the world apart. Aegon II's gaze was cold as he surveyed the battlefield below. Lifting his hand, he gave the signal to attack.
"Dracarys!!!~~"
Ghidorah opened its massive jaws, spewing torrents of blazing dragonfire. Three searing streams poured down upon the Braavosi fleet. Where the flames struck, the sea boiled. Ships went up in fire, reduced to ash. Braavosi sailors screamed in terror, throwing themselves into the water to escape the inferno.
Under Ghidorah's devastating assault, the Sealord's fleet collapsed. Most of their ships lay in ruins, and their soldiers were cut down in staggering numbers. Seeing the battle hopelessly lost, the Sealord Uthero was left with no choice but to surrender.
Aegon II descended with Ghidorah onto the shores of Braavos. His gaze swept across the war-ravaged land, stern and cold. He looked upon the captured Sealord and demanded that Braavos surrender three dragon eggs and Elissa Farman.
Sealord Uthero dared not defy him and reluctantly agreed, sending word into the city. Not long after, news came back—Elissa Farman had been captured.
Bound and dragged before Aegon II, the once-proud woman was now pale with terror and despair. Aegon II fixed her with an icy stare, devoid of the slightest pity.
"You betrayed me—betrayed House Targaryen. Did you truly think stealing dragon eggs would fulfill your ambitions? Foolish delusion."
His voice, cold and commanding, echoed in the ears of all present.
Elissa Farman tried to protest.
But Aegon II cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"No more words. Your crimes are unforgivable." He turned to the soldiers at his side. "Hang her. Let her death serve as a warning."
Soon, Elissa Farman was led to the execution ground. The moment she was hauled onto the gallows, all of Braavos fell into a brief, stunned silence. As the noose tightened, her life slipped away. Thus ended the woman who once dreamed of the sea and nursed great ambition.
After dealing with Elissa Farman, Aegon II turned his gaze to Sealord Uthero.
"As Sealord, you allowed dragon eggs to be stolen and defied my commands. You are no longer worthy of this position." Aegon II's words struck Uthero like a hammer, shattering his resolve.
Sealord Uthero turned pale. He knew resistance was futile and could only bow his head in defeat.
Aegon II immediately announced Uthero's dismissal and appointed a trusted member of House Targaryen as the new administrator of Braavos.
He then set about reorganizing the Braavosi army.
The troops were placed under the direct command of House Targaryen. Loyal soldiers were restructured and retrained, while those suspected of harboring rebellious thoughts were kept under strict surveillance and control.
Under Aegon II's orders, Targaryen forces established a permanent garrison in Braavos.
Like a wall of steel, they stood guard over a city once known for its spirit of defiance. Targaryen banners and soldiers filled every street and alley, and the city's atmosphere grew heavy with fear and tension.
The people of Braavos, though seething with resentment, could do nothing but swallow their anger under the crushing might of Targaryen arms.
Aegon II did not touch the Iron Bank, whose wealth rivaled kingdoms, nor did he rashly move against the entrenched powers or the temples of the gods.
The time was not yet right to purge the Faith of the One.
In this war, he had deliberately restrained his divine nature and supernatural strength, presenting himself instead as the ruler of a mortal realm.
Aegon II knew his clash with the True God was inevitable—a final struggle over faith, power, and the order of the world. But he felt no need to rush.
He was waiting—for a riper moment, one with greater chances of victory.
The situation in Braavos had only just stabilized when Aegon II received grave news: Lady Alyssa, mother of Queen Alysanne, was on her deathbed.
...
In King's Landing, the Tower of the Hand was heavy with despair.
Lady Alyssa, mother of Queen Alysanne, lay upstairs at death's door.
The bed was soaked, her body drenched in sweat, wasted to little more than skin and bones. Only her swollen belly spoke of the child still inside her.
A maester, a midwife, and three maids tended to her with care, yet sorrow and helplessness clouded their faces.
Outside, Hand of the King Rogar sat slumped, reeking of wine, drowning his grief in drink.
When Queen Alysanne demanded to know why he wasn't at his wife's side, the Lord of Storm's End suddenly roared, "The Stranger is in the house. I can smell it."
His voice shook with terror and despair, as though death itself already stood before him.
Maester Kyrie quickly tried to explain. "Lady Alyssa just drank a cup of wine mixed with sweet-sleep flowers, giving her a brief rest. For hours before, she endured unimaginable pain."
"She cried out endlessly," a servant added. "She vomited up all the food we brought her. The pain she bore was unbearable."
"She shouldn't be in labor yet," Queen Alysanne wept. "It's too soon."
"There was still a month left," the midwife said with a helpless sigh.
Her face grew grave as she went on. "Your Grace, this is no ordinary birth. Something is tearing her apart from within.
The child is nearly dead, struggling desperately, and the Queen Mother is too old and frail.
The child is stuck… the situation is dire. Before dawn, both mother and child may be lost. I am deeply sorry."
Maester Kyrie did not deny it, only murmured,
"Milk of the poppy can ease Lady Alyssa's suffering. I have plenty at hand…"
But all knew it—milk of the poppy could dull the pain, yet it could not save her life, and would almost certainly kill the unborn child.
Queen Alysanne, forcing down her grief, asked if there was any other way.
The maester shook his head. "To save Lady Alyssa? No. Her condition is beyond me.
But the child still has a sliver of hope.
If we cut open her belly and take the child from the womb, it may survive—or it may not. But the mother will surely die."
Hearing this, Queen Alysanne broke down, sobbing.
After a moment, she steadied herself and said heavily, "She is my mother, and your Lady Hand."
She then dragged Rogar Baratheon into the chamber and ordered the maester to repeat his words.
"She is your wife," Queen Alysanne said. "The choice is yours."
Lord Rogar could not bring himself to look at his wife. Only when the queen seized his arm and shook him hard did he finally mutter,
"Save my wife."
With that, he tore free of her grasp and fled again.
Maester Kyrie bowed his head in apology and began preparing his tools.
But before he could cut, Lady Alyssa suddenly awoke.
Though wracked with agony and spasms, tears of joy filled her eyes as she saw her two children at her side.
When Queen Alysanne explained what was about to happen, Alyssa firmly rejected Rogar's decision.
"Save my child," she whispered. "I shall reunite with my sons, and the Crone will light my path."
If those were truly Lady Alyssa's final words, we all took comfort in them.
But when Maester Kyrie cut open the Queen Mother's belly, she never woke again. Alysanne held her mother's hand tightly until the infant's first cry echoed through the chamber.
Lord Rogar could not save his wife, but he gained a daughter.
The newborn was frail and weak, and both the midwife and the maester believed she would not live long...
Yet against all expectations, she survived—just as she would go on to astonish the world many times in her life.
A few days later, Rogar Baratheon regained some clarity and named his daughter Jocelyn. But before that, he had to face a fierce visitor.
At dawn, while Alyssa's body had yet to grow cold, Silverwing—curled in the courtyard—suddenly reared back and let out a thunderous roar that woke half of Storm's End. The dragon had sensed its kin's arrival. Moments later, Dreamfyre descended into the yard.
Against the crimson morning sky, it spread its pale blue wings, silver spines glittering in the light—Rhaena Targaryen had finally come.
But she was too late. Lady Alyssa was already gone.
Though Alysanne tried to dissuade her from looking, Rhaena insisted on lifting the shroud. She gazed long at her mother's body, cut open by the maester, her face dark with grief and fury.
At last, she turned and embraced her younger sister.
The sisters held each other for a long time. When the midwife offered the baby to Rhaena, she refused, demanding sharply,
"Where is Rogar?"
She found him in the hall at the base of the tower.
The lord sat with infant Boremund on his lap, surrounded by younger brothers and knights.
Rhaena Targaryen shoved them aside, stood before him, and shouted,
"Your cock is stained with her blood! May you die screaming!"
Rogar Baratheon, shattered by her words, collapsed to his knees, muttering over and over,
"I didn't want Alyssa to die… I could do nothing… I'm no fit husband…"
Seeing him so broken, Rhaena's fury gave way to sorrow. Pale and stricken, she turned from the hall, went back to the courtyard, mounted Dreamfyre, and flew away.
Lord Rogar remained where he had fallen, sunk in grief.
His brother Borys forced a cup of strong wine into his hand, and only then did Rogar drift into a heavy sleep.
Borys summoned the steward to begin arranging his sister-in-law's funeral.
Queen Alysanne returned from the Tower of the Hand to Rhaenys's Palace, burdened with grief. But her husband Aegon was away at war, and she had no one to share her sorrow.
Time passed. Summer yielded to autumn, and leaves fell across the Seven Kingdoms.
Aegon had returned to King's Landing on dragonback.
In the Red Mountains, a new "Vulture King" arose; in the Three Sisters, a sweating sickness spread. Troubles came one after another, demanding urgent attention, yet Emperor Aegon faced them all with steady resolve.
Queen Alysanne, meanwhile, sought solace in another place.
She had lost her mother, but she still had her daughter.
Princess Daenerys was only a year and a half old, but long before her first naming day she had already learned to speak—in her own way. Now she had grown from crawling and toddling to running.
"The little one is such an impatient soul," the princess's nurse told the queen with a smile.
The young princess was naturally cheerful, brimming with curiosity and fearlessness—utterly lovable.
So much so that Queen Alysanne often skipped Small Council meetings to play with her daughter and read aloud the very stories her own mother had once read to her.
"She's so clever, it won't be long before she's reading stories to me," the queen told Aegon, her face radiant with affection. "She will be a great queen—I just know it."
But the fifty-sixth year of the Conquest was a cruel one, and the Stranger had no intention of sparing House Targaryen.
...
On Dragonstone, across the waters of Blackwater Bay, Rhaena Targaryen returned from the Red Keep to find nothing but troubles awaiting her.
In stark contrast to the joy and solace Daenerys brought Alysanne, Rhaena's two daughters remained on the Valyrian Peninsula. The Queen Mother could only seek comfort among her companions.
Among them were old flames such as Samantha Stokeworth and Aliann Royce, and new favorites like her cousin Lianna Velaryon, Lord Staunton's beautiful daughter Cassella, and the young Septa Maryam.
Yet the peace they gave her did not last long.
As autumn reached Dragonstone, just as it had across Westeros, cold winds swept down from the north while storms raged over the Narrow Sea. The ancient castle, already grim in summer, was now cloaked in darkness. Even the dragons seemed weighed down by sorrow.
As the year neared its end, disease struck Dragonstone.
Maester Kapur declared it was neither the sweating sickness, nor epilepsy, nor greyscale. The first symptoms were bloody stools, followed by severe abdominal cramps. Kapur told the Queen Mother many illnesses could cause such signs, but he never lived to name the culprit—for less than two days after the symptoms appeared, he became the island's first victim.
His successor, Maester Anselm, blamed age and frailty. Kapur had been well over eighty, nearing ninety, and had never been strong of body.
But the next to fall was Cassella Staunton, only fourteen years old.
Then Septa Maryam sickened, followed by Aliann Royce. Even Samantha Stokeworth—hearty, lively, and fond of boasting that she had never been ill a day in her life—was struck down.
All three women died on the same night, within hours of one another.
Though her friends and lovers fell one by one, Rhaena Targaryen herself remained unharmed.
Maester Anselm speculated that her Valyrian bloodline shielded her—even this swift and lethal plague could not overcome the blood of the dragon.
Rhaena acted swiftly, ordering the gates of Dragonstone Castle sealed. Since the sickness had not yet spread beyond the walls, she intended to contain it and protect the smallfolk.
She also sent word to King's Landing.
Upon receiving the news, Aegon moved at once. He ordered Lord Velaryon to dispatch his fleet to blockade Dragonstone, ensuring no one carried the illness beyond its shores.
Lord Velaryon, swallowing his grief, obeyed.
But Lianna Velaryon died before her uncle's fleet had even sailed past Driftmark.
Maester Anselm tried every method he could—enemas, bloodletting, even ice packs—but nothing availed. She died convulsing in Rhaena Targaryen's arms, while the Queen Mother wept in silence.
Aegon convened the Small Council to discuss the "plague" of Dragonstone.
Rigo Draz, the Master of Coin from Pentos, was the first to raise doubts.
After studying Maester Anselm's notes, he frowned and said, "A sickness? This is no sickness. Convulsions of the belly, death within a day… this is the Tears of Lys."
"Poison?" Aegon was stunned.
"We of the Free Cities have seen it often enough," Rigo replied firmly. "It is the Tears of Lys, beyond doubt. The old maester would have recognized it quickly—so he was the first to be silenced. I would have done the same in his place. But I would never stoop to using poison. Such a thing is… despicable."
"Then who poisoned him?" asked Lord Velaryon.
Rigo Draz, Septon Barth, and Grand Maester Bennifer all spoke almost at once:
"Braavos?!"
Aegon accepted Rigo's judgment. Mounting Ghidorah, he flew to Dragonstone himself.
The island was already under strict lockdown, no one permitted to come or go. The emperor's arrival only tightened the watch.
Soon after, the Red Keep's Imperial Guard reached Dragonstone as well. They began thorough investigations of everyone in the castle, with particular scrutiny of any outsiders who spoke with Braavosi accents.
In the end, Aegon did capture a suspect—a Faceless Man named Quentyn.
Quentyn had tried to slip away by assuming another's face, but under the watchful blockade of the guards, he was found out and taken.
When brought before the emperor, Quentyn answered Aegon's questioning in a flat, detached tone:
"All men must die."