Rewriting Targaryen History

Aemond’s death ended the war in every place except the west.

No claimant remained free. Aegon lay dead, Daeron had sworn to Rhaenyra, and Helaena’s children were protected within King’s Landing rather than paraded beneath a rival banner. Ormund, Hobert, and Gwayne Hightower were prisoners.

Otto and the other architects of the coronation waited for trial. The Stormlands had submitted, Oldtown had opened its gates, and the largest dragon alive rested beneath the Gods Eye beside the prince who had ridden her.

Yet Lord Humfrey Lefford still commanded armed men beneath the banners of the Westerlands.

Jason Lannister’s death had not compelled them to surrender. The western host had survived the fighting in the Riverlands because Lefford restored enough discipline to prevent its collapse.

Harassed by riverlords, northmen, and dragons, it withdrew towards the Golden Tooth while abandoning wounded men, heavy baggage, and much of the supply train that once allowed Jason to march with the confidence of a conqueror.

The army was weakened, hungry, and far from victory. It remained an army. Until its banners lowered, the realm could not call the war finished.

The council deciding Oldtown’s immediate future met in the guildhall two days after Lord Oscar Tully’s raven arrived. The city had returned to uneasy activity around us. Markets reopened, barges moved along the Honeywine, and watchmen resumed patrols beneath Rhaenyra’s banners. Hightower soldiers who surrendered remained confined outside the principal barracks while their names and conduct were examined.

The surrender had prevented destruction, but it had not erased the loyalties that shaped the city. Guild leaders wanted trade restored immediately. The Citadel demanded that soldiers remain beyond its gates. Septons feared reprisals against families associated with Ormund. Loyalists wanted every known Green officer arrested before hidden resistance could form.

No single commander could leave Oldtown unattended while those tensions remained.

Matthos Tyrell would govern it temporarily.

He sat opposite me beneath a tall window overlooking the square, surrounded by Lord Bulwer and the other Reach lords who had marched beneath Rhaenyra’s banners. Representatives of the Faith, Citadel, city watch, and principal guilds occupied the lower end of the table. Black Rat, Dick, Jasper, Landrey, and Addam stood nearer my side.

"Your authority will be temporary," I told Matthos. "Oldtown remains a royal city under the crown’s peace, but Highgarden is the only power in the Reach capable of preventing the surrender from becoming a struggle between local factions. You will hold the city until Rhaenyra confirms a permanent settlement."

Matthos had expected the duty, though his expression suggested little enthusiasm for the work awaiting him. "Ormund’s household still owns half the land surrounding the city, and every man who profited beneath his rule now insists that he merely obeyed his lawful lord. The guilds want the roads opened, the Citadel wants every soldier kept beyond its shadow, and the watch captains are already arguing over who deserves promotion for opening the gates."

"That is why I am leaving the Reach lords with you."

Lord Bulwer glanced towards the city representatives. "Some of us will be more welcome than others."

"You need not be loved," Matthos replied. "You need only ensure that no Hightower loyalist mistakes restraint for weakness. Your men know the roads and villages around Oldtown, while the other lords can provide garrisons that do not answer to one house alone."

The Reach forces would remain divided across the city and surrounding lands. Tyrell soldiers would control the principal gates and maintain the central reserve. Bulwer men would watch the southern roads and the lesser Hightower estates, where resentment over their defection would make local resistance more likely.

Tarly, Beesbury, Blackbar, Merryweather, Footly, Caswell, and the other loyal contingents would assist Matthos in maintaining order and reopening the landward trade routes. No house would receive exclusive control over Oldtown.

That mattered as much as the number of soldiers left behind. Giving Lord Bulwer authority over Hightower prisoners would invite vengeance. Allowing Tyrell troops alone to occupy every gate would make the surrender resemble Highgarden seizing its greatest rival. A mixed administration gave each lord enough responsibility to feel included and too little independence to settle old grudges through force.

"The Hightower lands are not to be divided," I said. "Not before the trials, and not before Rhaenyra determines which members of the house remain innocent of rebellion. Household property necessary for governing the city may be placed under seal, but private homes are to remain untouched unless evidence connects them to ongoing resistance."

One of the merchant representatives shifted in his seat. "Several warehouses belong directly to Lord Ormund."

"Inventory them and reopen those required for food or trade under Tyrell supervision. Profits can be held until the crown decides ownership. Closing half the city’s stores merely because a captive lord possesses them would punish Oldtown more than Ormund."

Matthos nodded. "The same principle will apply to the river quays. Ships may enter after inspection, and captains who supplied the city during the siege will not be arrested merely for selling grain. Those who carried soldiers, weapons, or secret orders for the rebellion will be investigated separately."

The guild representatives accepted that more readily than they had accepted any demand during the siege.

The Citadel received the protection already promised. Its gates, archives, ravens, and internal offices would remain under maester control, though messages concerning military movements could be inspected while the last western host remained in rebellion.

The Faith retained authority over its septs and charitable houses. The city watch remained armed, but its senior appointments required Matthos’s approval until the permanent regency was settled.

Our occupation would be present enough to prevent disorder and restrained enough to deny Ormund’s remaining supporters a cause.

"What of the prisoners?" Matthos asked.

"Ormund, Hobert, and Gwayne will leave aboard the Velaryon fleet under Unsullied guard. They will stand trial in King’s Landing beside Otto, Larys Strong, Ser Crakehall, Jasper Wylde, and the other principal rebels. Captured officers whose cases concern only military service may remain here until evidence is reviewed. Men accused of raiding, murder, or crimes against civilians are to be held separately."

Addam had arranged the ships already. Two Velaryon galleys would carry the Hightowers, accompanied by four escorts and Seasmoke above the coastal route where weather allowed. Rhaenys had departed upon Meleys to bring news of Daemon’s death to Rhaenyra. Addam would follow after the prisoners sailed, then return to Driftmark once their transfer was complete.

When the civil administration had been settled, Matthos turned towards the military map. "You intend to take only your own core west."

"Yes. The Reach has already paid heavily at Honeyholt. Its lords are more useful securing Oldtown than marching across half the realm to fight an army already retreating towards its own lands."

My force would consist of the remaining Unsullied, the Dread Legion, and the support companies that had served directly under our command throughout the campaign. Black Rat, Grey Worm, Jasper, Dick, and Landrey would come with me. The Reachmen who had become inseparable from Legion formations through loss and reorganisation could choose whether to remain with their lords or continue west under my banner.

Many chose to march. They had fought beside the Unsullied at Honeyholt, endured Roxton’s raids, and watched Oldtown surrender without an assault. Their loyalties no longer followed simple borders. Some believed the war should be completed by the men who had carried it this far. Others had little waiting for them at home until the levies were formally released.

I would lead a smaller force than the host that surrounded Oldtown, but one composed almost entirely of experienced soldiers.

"How quickly can you depart?" Matthos asked.

"Four days."

Dick spoke before Matthos could answer. "Six would prevent us from marching with half-filled wagons and horses still carrying harness wounds from the journey south."

"We are not taking the entire siege camp."

"No, but we are transporting enough grain to reach Stoney Sept without depending upon villages already stripped by western and river armies. We also require carts for the wounded who can travel, replacement bowstrings, spare spear shafts, and bridges strong enough to bear the supply wagons. Four days allows men to leave. Six days allows an army to arrive."

I looked towards the route marked north-east from Oldtown. "You have five."

Dick appeared offended by the compromise. "Generosity continues to overwhelm me."

The council dispersed after midday.

For the next five days, Oldtown changed from the centre of the war into the place we would leave behind. Tyrell banners replaced Dread Legion standards at the principal camps. Reach officers received maps of patrol routes, prisoner lists, supply stores, and every hidden track discovered during the siege. Black Rat inspected the Unsullied companies while Jasper reorganised the Legion for a long march rather than fixed encirclement.

Our soldiers dismantled only what we required. Earthworks remained for Matthos’s garrison. Timber shelters were handed to watchmen and displaced families. Captured Redwyne supplies were divided between the occupying force and the westward column, with careful records sent to King’s Landing for later claims.

Dravvaxx watched the preparations from the northern ridge. His wounded wing had healed enough for sustained flight, though the scar remained visible and the shoulder still stiffened after long periods in the air. He would not need to carry me through another dragon battle. Vhagar was dead, Caraxes gone, and no enemy dragon remained free.

That knowledge had not yet settled comfortably between us. Dravvaxx had spent months responding to every distant roar, every sighting, and every shadow large enough to suggest Vhagar. Now the sky was emptier, and the danger awaiting us had returned to men, roads, steel, and hunger.

I mounted him on the morning we departed. Below us, the final marching columns formed outside Oldtown. Unsullied occupied the centre, their ranks reduced but orderly. The Dread Legion marched before and behind the baggage train. Landrey’s cavalry spread along the road and fields, while the purple banners bearing the white sword within its crescent wreath moved above them.

Matthos met me beyond the northern gate before Dravvaxx launched. "Oldtown will remain quiet," he said. "Not because its citizens suddenly adore Rhaenyra, but because none of the factions wants to become the one responsible for inviting the army back."

"That is enough for the moment."

"Your standards will remain visible until you are several days north. The city may test the new arrangement once it understands you are truly gone."

"That is why the Reach lords remain. Use Bulwer where knowledge matters, but do not allow him to turn every Hightower servant into an enemy. The same applies to lords eager to take lands as rewards."

Matthos looked back towards the city. "Highgarden declared late. I have no intention of proving our loyalty by dismantling the Reach around us."

"Then we understand one another."

He offered his arm. "End the western resistance before another lord decides the war has left enough confusion for ambition."

I clasped it. "Keep Oldtown intact long enough for the queen to decide what peace looks like."

The army marched north beneath clear skies.

The journey towards Stoney Sept took us through lands that no longer expected a Green host to appear. Villages opened their gates cautiously when our scouts arrived, and local lords sent bread, fodder, and messages affirming allegiance before we requested any. News of Aemond’s death travelled ahead of us. Wherever we stopped, men asked whether Vhagar was truly gone and whether the fighting had finally ended.

I told them the truth. One army remained.

The roads bore evidence of the war long before we crossed from the Reach towards the Riverlands. Abandoned camps scarred fields. Bridges had been repaired with fresh timber after riverlords destroyed them to hinder Jason’s march. Several villages still held Westerland prisoners or wounded men too weak to continue the retreat.

Those prisoners spoke of hunger and exhaustion within Lord Humfrey Lefford’s ranks. The western host had lost much of its baggage during the harassment after Jason’s death. Horses died faster than they could be replaced, and soldiers stripped food from the countryside despite officers’ attempts to maintain discipline.

Lefford had kept them together through competence rather than confidence.

The men no longer believed they could take King’s Landing or restore Aegon. They marched because the alternative appeared to be surrendering themselves to riverlords whose homes they had burned on the journey east.

Fear of vengeance held the army together after hope disappeared.

That made the final phase more dangerous than its political importance suggested. A defeated army expecting execution could fight more fiercely than one still seeking victory. If the riverlords closed around the Westerlanders without offering clear terms, Lefford’s men might choose death upon the road rather than chains in hostile castles.

I sent ravens ahead to Lord Oscar Tully.

The message confirmed our strength, our route, and the terms I intended to offer. Common soldiers who surrendered would be disarmed and allowed to return west after swearing not to take arms against Rhaenyra. Officers would remain as hostages until the western houses submitted formally. Men accused of looting, murder, or other crimes against civilians would face separate judgement.

Lord Humfrey Lefford would be offered honourable captivity if he surrendered the army intact. The war needed an ending, not another Fishfeed.

We reached Stoney Sept beneath heavy clouds. River banners covered the fields beyond the town. Tully trout flew beside Blackwood ravens, Mallister eagles, Smallwood acorns, and the standards of lesser houses that had spent the campaign attacking Jason from roads, woods, and river crossings.

Northmen camped separately beneath weathered banners, fewer than the three thousand who had marched south but still carrying the hard discipline of men who expected never to see home again.

Vermax circled above them.

The sight of Jace upon the young dragon brought relief sharper than I expected. He landed beyond the river camp and dismounted before I reached him. Battle and grief had changed his face during the months apart. He was still sixteen, but the boy who left King’s Landing beneath Rhaenyra’s instructions no longer looked entirely present.

I embraced him before rank or spectators could make the gesture difficult. "You searched the lake," I said.

"For two days. We found Caraxes and pieces of both saddles, but there was no trace of Daemon or Aemond. Lord Oscar believes the lake carried them deeper."

I knew where Aemond rested. Daemon remained the absence history had never filled.

"You did everything that could be done."

Jace looked towards Dravvaxx rather than answer immediately. "He ordered me to remain with the river army before he flew towards Harrenhal. I thought he intended to scout Vhagar’s position. By the time Vermax and I reached the Gods Eye, they were already falling."

"He knew you would follow if he told you his purpose."

"He also knew I might have helped."

"Vermax would not have survived Vhagar."

"Caraxes did not survive her either."

"No, but Daemon ensured she did not leave the lake. That was the choice he made."

Jace lowered his gaze. "Everyone calls it victory because Aemond is dead."

"It was a victory. It was also a loss. You are not required to pretend one erases the other."

He nodded slowly, and we turned towards the river camp together.

Lord Oscar Tully received me near the largest pavilion. He was young for the authority placed upon him, though months of war had taught him to speak without waiting for age to grant permission. Roderick Dustin stood nearby in weathered armour, accompanied by riverlords whose lands had suffered beneath the western march.

A map of the western roads lay across the council table. Humfrey Lefford’s army remained east of the Golden Tooth.

The western lord had withdrawn in good order until damaged bridges, failed supply routes, and constant harassment slowed the column near the border. River cavalry controlled the roads behind him. Blackwood and Mallister riders watched the northern paths, while the surviving Winter Wolves pressed from the east.

Lefford had not surrendered. Neither had he attempted another battle.

"He has perhaps seven thousand men," Oscar said. "Fewer are fit to fight. His cavalry has lost horses, and the infantry has been living on reduced rations for more than a week. We could attack before he reaches the pass."

"You could," I said. "How many river soldiers would die breaking men who no longer possess a king or a path to victory?"

Oscar’s eyes hardened. "Those men burned villages on the march east. They hanged scouts and took grain from families already preparing for winter."

"The guilty will face judgement. That does not require killing every levy standing beside them."

Lord Roderick studied me across the table. "You intend to offer terms."

"I intend to give Humfrey Lefford one chance to end the war without another field of bodies. If he refuses, we close the roads and defeat him. Dravvaxx will destroy any attempt to force the pass, but I will not burn the army merely because doing so is faster."

The northern lord gave a slow nod. "Men who came south with me expected death. That does not mean we need to spend it after the cause is won."

Oscar looked towards the western road. Anger remained, though command had taught him enough restraint to hold it beneath thought. "What terms?"

"Disarmament, hostages from the principal houses, surrender of officers accused of crimes against civilians, and recognition of Rhaenyra. Common soldiers return west once the oaths are taken and the road is secure. Lefford remains in royal custody until the queen judges his conduct."

"If he accepts, the Westerlands escape lightly."

"The Westerlands lose their army, their claim, their hostages, and the freedom to continue resistance. They do not need to lose another generation merely to make victory feel complete."

No one answered immediately. Beyond the pavilion, the camps of three armies stretched around Stoney Sept. Riverlords, northmen, Unsullied, Dread Legion soldiers, and men who had marched from the Reach now gathered for the final movement of the war.

Oldtown was secure behind us. Aemond and Vhagar were dead. Only the Westerland host remained beneath rebellious banners.

I placed one hand upon the road leading towards the Golden Tooth. "We send the offer tomorrow. If Lord Humfrey Lefford possesses the sense Jason lacked, this war ends without another battle."

If he refused, the last host of Aegon’s rebellion would find the Riverlands closed around it and Dravvaxx waiting above the road home.