Chapter 80: The Dragon's Wrath
Year 269 After the Conquest.
Lord Denys stood on the battlements of Duskandleand heard with his own ears the death knell of House Darklyn.
In a bygone age, the mighty House Darklyn had boasted seven Kingsguard; now it would perish by his hand. He was too young, too hungry for glory.
A tide of noise swept over Lord Denys. Outside the walls he watched his good-father, Ser Simon Hollard, the master-at-arms, cleaved in two by Rhaegar; inside the castle Prince Aerys of Dragonstone had already been smuggled from the dungeons by Ser Barristan Selmy.
Rhaegar studied the Darklyn banner hanging above the gate; the defenders' steps faltered beneath the rising din.
With Ser Simon gone, Barristan carved through the rest like melons—first stealing horses in the castle, then fighting his way onto the walls of Maidenpool. Amid the blare of horns and trumpets and the despairing stares of soldiers, Barristan brought Prince Aerys of Dragonstone to safety.
Longbowmen rallied to Rhaegar's side. Drawn by him, the dragonglass longbow never missed; its arrows flew farther and harder, clearing a path for Ser Barristan. Mighty but ruinously costly, few companies could afford such lavish firepower.
Beneath rippling banners of fury, the royal host from King's Landing pressed toward Maidenpool, eager to vent its rage.
"Your Grace, the task is done!" Ser Barristan announced, delivering Prince Aerys of Dragonstone to Rhaegar with several arrows lodged in his own back—an indomitable sight.
"Rhaegar, is that you?" Prince Aerys of Dragonstone rubbed his eyes, half-believing it a dream. He saw his son drenched in blood, dragonglass longbow in hand—a reaper of men.
"Father, my apologies for your ordeal!" Rhaegar said, bowing to the Prince of Dragonstone.
"No matter. You arrived in the nick of time—I am in your debt. They only stripped my royal garb; they dared not lay a hand on me. A few days more and I'd have been bedding down with the rats." Aerys blushed, jesting, though he wondered: when had Rhaegar become such a fighter? Had the prince finally woken the dragon's wrath?
Rhaegar exhaled; Aerys spoke lightly, his mind unbroken, only thinner for the lack of food. House Darklyn had sought to terrorize the Prince of Dragonstone and had slain many guards—but no worse.
Speed is the soul of war; within days Rhaegar's force broke the city without a long siege. Had the encirclement dragged on, House Darklyn would have turned truly savage.
"Once the city falls, let the woman from Myr and the Hollards suffer for laying hands on my coat and mocking my beard," Prince Aerys of Dragonstone snarled.
Rhaegar agreed. He escorted his father and Ser Barristan to the camp to rest while the assault continued.
The Iron Throne had summoned the Eagle Guards, the Red Keep garrison, Lannisters, Baratheons, and men of Rosby; Lord Denys would drown Maidenpool in blood for his reckoning and cunning.
Yet the war ended in anticlimax. Seeing the master-at-arms dead and the Prince of Dragonstone rescued, Lord Denys surrendered at once—an outcome that left jaws slack.
As the host entered, Rhaegar walked at the fore with Lord Mond and Lord Tywin Lannister.
Duskandle was a fair town of cobbled streets beside its harbor, but now it reeked of blood and dread.
Rhaegar beheld Lord Denys, stripped of cloak and ornament, kneeling on the ground.
"Shackle him!" Lord Mond commanded. At the sight of Denys's trembling pallor, he saw the ruin House Darklyn had brought upon itself—treason plain and simple.
"Bring every Darklyn and Hollard to the square in irons," Rhaegar added; Lord Monford concurred.
Before the Brownstone Keep of House Darklyn, the four Lords presided over the trial of the Darklyns and their in-laws of House Hollard.
"By decree of Jaehaerys II of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm: these treacherous traitors, having broken their sacred oath of fealty, conspired to deceive and imprison Prince Aerys of Dragonstone, slew noble Kingsguard and loyal guards, and shamed the Iron Throne and House Targaryen. I therefore proclaim the king's sacred judgment: all are guilty of treason, condemned to death, stripped of every title and honor, their lands and castles forfeit." Rhaegar's voice rang like steel, each word a hammer blow to Lord Denys's heart.
Lord Mond had chosen Rhaegar to pronounce the doom, that the majesty of the Iron Throne be made unmistakable.
The Darklyns and their kin were bound together; their wailing and weeping availed them nothing.
They had roused the dragon's wrath—only to be devoured by it.
The crowd watched as Prince Rhaegar stood in the square, the roll in his hand summoning the Stranger.
Silver-haired, handsome, scarcely more than a youth, the prince pronounced doom upon House Darklyn. He seemed Maidenpool's butcher: he slew three knights himself and coldly read the death list. The soldiers worshipped him—and feared him—recalling the blood-soaked companies of old.
Rhaegar finished the roll and stood upon the makeshift platform, surveying the place of execution. Blood was part of this age; only by growing stronger and rising above the rest could one endure.
The Lords of Rosby and Stokeworth watched the gory spectacle, the fate of Lord Denys a grim lesson to them all.
The execution was overseen by four Lords: the Hand of the King, Lord Monford Baratheon of Storm's End; the Prince of Dragonstone, Prince Aerys of House Targaryen; the Lord Treasurer, Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock; and the future of the realm, the spearbreaker, Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen.
The headsman stepped forward, dispatching the condemned one by one. All who had joined House Darklyn's treason died without exception.
Worst was the fate of Lord Denys's mistress, the Lace Serpent of Myr. The Prince of Dragonstone loathed her; he ordered her tongue and ears cut off before she was burned alive.
The people of Duskandle watched the blood pool widen. Perhaps they still loved Lord Denys, or at least the honor of House Darklyn, yet they knew his pride and vanity had doomed them all. So they hurled stones at the Lace Serpent, heaping upon her their hatred.
Only a boy was spared: young Dontos Hollard, the fool of King's Landing, at Ser Barristan's plea. The Prince of Dragonstone could not refuse the savior of his life; Rhaegar advised sending the boy to Harvest Hall of House Selmy, for to keep him in King's Landing would be to cast him into a maelstrom.
The knights split into two bands: one to secure Duskandle, the other to ride for the Hollard seat, seizing lands, razing the castle, and burning every village.
Rhaegar watched the ruins of Hollard castle. The men were dead, but the earth remained.
He envisioned raising a tall tower here for dragons to rest and soar.
North of King's Landing the Crownlands held few mountains, yet dragons languished in the city pits.
Rosby, Stokeworth, and Duskandle lay close to King's Landing, vassal towns to the capital.
In ancient Valyrian days, dragons nested in volcanic craters or lofty black towers, not in subterranean pits.
Alas, the Black Wall and the great highways—marvels of Valyrian craft—were long lost. Should such dragon towers rise anew, they would become fresh lairs for mighty dragons.
Rhaegar must obtain the secrets of the Black Wall, then slowly raise dragon towers in King's Landing, Duskandle, or wherever conquest might lead.
In Volantis the mighty remnant of the Black Wall still stood.
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