Chapter 67: The Griffin's Return and the Dragon's Expanding Embrace
Maegor walked the battlements of Pyrefall Castle, the cool Essosi air invigorating him. The notification of his impending rank as Dual Seat Duke fueled his ambition. He was no longer just a ruler of a single duchy; he was poised to command two, his power growing with terrifying speed. His gaze turned north, towards the Duchy of Daarno, the next target for his unyielding might.
A few days later, a familiar buzz rippled through the castle. Another delegation, bearing the fiery griffin sigil of House Connington, had arrived. This was a significant moment. House Connington, fierce and loyal, had followed Prince Rhaegar to his tragic end, their loyalty unwavering even in the face of Robert's hammer.
Maegor met them in the great hall, his usual imposing presence amplified by the subtle hum of Blackfyre at his hip. Leading the delegation was Ser Jon Connington, a man of thirty-eight, his distinctive red hair a vibrant splash against the paler hues of the Valyrian-descended. His face, though marked by exile and hardship, still held the proud, aristocratic bearing of a Lord. He was the former Lord of Griffin's Roost, once Hand of the King to Aerys II, and fiercely loyal to the memory of Rhaegar Targaryen.
With Jon were his nephew and niece: Ser Raymund Connington, twenty-three, the second son of the current Lord, Lord Ronald Connington, a young knight with a serious demeanor. And the third child, the only girl, Allyne Connington, a striking beauty of twenty, with fiery red hair and eyes of piercing blue, her presence radiating a vibrant vitality. Three additional knights of House Connington accompanied them: Ser Bryen Hill, Ser Desmond Rivers, and Ser Quentyn Flowers, all battle-hardened and grim-faced. Behind them marched 500 loyal men-at-arms, equipped with the hardened practicality of the Stormlands.
Ser Jon Connington, upon seeing Maegor's undeniable Targaryen features and the legendary Blackfyre, immediately dropped to one knee, his head bowed. "My King," he declared, his voice strong and clear, "Ser Jon Connington. I left my exile in Volantis the moment I heard the whisper of a true dragon. My sword, my life, my honor, are yours." He then presented a sealed letter.
Maegor took the letter. It bore the griffin sigil. He broke the seal and read:
To my King Maegor Targaryen,
Your raven, though cryptic, spoke of a truth I have prayed for since the Trident. My uncle, Jon Connington, carries this message. He is my kinsman, a proud knight, and utterly loyal to the true line. I would ride to your side myself, but my presence is needed here, at Griffin's Roost. My King, I cannot openly defy the Usurper yet, but know that House Connington pledges its fealty and its blood. I send you my son, Raymund, my daughter, Allyne, and five hundred of our finest men-at-arms, led by trusted knights of our House. Command them as you see fit. We wait, King Maegor. We wait for the day the Dragon calls us to march upon King's Landing. For the true restoration.
Yours in enduring fealty,Lord Ronald Connington of Griffin's Roost
Maegor's eyes glittered. Connington. Another powerful House, directly tied to the memory of Rhaegar, openly pledging their loyalty and sending their kin and men. This was a stronger signal than even the Celtigar and Massey pledges.
"Rise, Ser Jon Connington," Maegor commanded, a cold satisfaction in his voice. "Your loyalty, and that of House Connington, is noted. You will find your purpose here, leading my armies." He then greeted Raymund and Allyne, his gaze lingering on the latter.
Later that day, Maegor wasted no time. His Lineage Focus: Progeny Drive (Active) flared, and the fiery red hair of Allyne Connington captivated him. Her beauty was undeniable, a vibrant contrast to the Valyrian hues he was accustomed to. He had outlined his plans for multiple lines, for strong children. He desired her.
He summoned Allyne to his private solar. He spoke to her directly, his voice low and compelling, laced with Draconic Persuasion. He offered her no pretense of marriage, but a clear, unambiguous proposal: to become his mistress, to bear his children, children who would inherit the fiercely loyal blood of the Conningtons and the undeniable power of the Targaryens. He spoke of the Grypharys line they would found, a name that perfectly blended "Griffin" and "Fire," symbolizing the union of their powerful Houses. He promised her children power, position, and an unwavering place in his burgeoning dynasty, forever bound to the Crown.
Allyne, young but sharp, understood the proposition. It was not a love match, but an honor, a position of undeniable influence and security for her family. To be the King's mistress, the mother of a new, powerful branch of his House, was a fate grander than any arranged marriage. She accepted.
That night, Maegor took Allyne. He consumed her with a fierce hunger, driven by the need to plant his seed, to bind her and her powerful house to him through flesh and blood. It was a raw, primal act of dominion and creation, ensuring the continuation of his dynasty through yet another vital branch.
Maegor now had three mistresses, each representing a crucial aspect of his expanding power and bloodlines:
Lyra: The northern hunter, mother of Prince Vaegon, the first Velysarion (representing the practical, resilient foundation from the North). She was currently not pregnant, having recently given birth to Vaegon.Malora Celtigar: The cunning daughter of a loyal Valyrian-descended house, with whom Maegor was currently planting his seed for the Aegryon line (representing direct Valyrian loyalty and future maritime power).Allyne Connington: The vibrant, fiery beauty from a fiercely loyal Stormlands house, now the newest conduit for the Grypharys line (representing martial prowess and loyal support from the heart of Westeros).
Meanwhile, news from Ser Barristan Selmy confirmed another success: his wife, Rheanera Brightflame, was indeed pregnant. The proud House Selmy would continue through a direct heir, a strong, disciplined lineage tied to the Dragon.
Maegor smiled. His kingdom was growing, his armies were preparing, and his bloodlines were spreading. The foundations for his reconquest were being laid, not just with steel and fire, but with strategic unions and carefully cultivated loyalties. The Duchy of Daarno was the next step, and the pieces were falling into place.