Balerion Tower, Valyria
"Lord Laenor, what is this magic, if I may ask?" came the curious question from Elaena Drakonar. "We, the sorcerers of Valyria, can bend fire to our will, but never have I heard of someone able to command thunder. That too with such precision that even the most able sorcerers of Valyria would pale in comparison to their own fire-bending skills. Not to mention thunder powerful enough to kill a full-grown dragon. Such power can only be achieved through sacrifices of great magnitude—at least, that is what we are taught in the temples."
Laenor met her gaze and tried not to let his thoughts wander again. "That is a question I believe is too personal, my lady, do you not think?" Laenor replied calmly. "From what I have learned, many dragonlord families—especially those of Old Blood or high rank—possess their own private magics. Rituals, curses, and arts they keep close to their hearts and bloodlines."
Lady Elaena's face fell slightly, though Laenor caught a glimmer of understanding beneath it. "I apologize for overstepping, Lord Laenor. I should have known better."
Laenor accepted the apology with an understanding nod, and silence settled over the chamber.
Until a cough broke it.
Lady Melisa stood, as if gathering her courage, then lifted her head and looked at Laenor with uncertainty in her eyes. Laenor smiled at her. If his estimation was correct, the girl was young—soft-spoken and timid, like an innocent rabbit. The sort that stirred an instinctive desire to shield her from the cruelty of the world.
"Lord Lae… Lord Laenor," came her small, hesitant voice. "If I ma—may I?"
"You may, Lady Melisa," Laenor said gently, offering her the same brotherly smile he once gave Laena when his sister approached him with similar hesitation in their youth.
"I… I have heard from Lord Maelor that you are powerful, and that your dragon is as large as Balerion," Melisa began, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "But… but I must ask—would you be powerful enough to protect me from the whole Gontaris clan, now? I mean, in a few months' time. You said in a few years, your cousins would be powerful enough to kill dragons, but what now? How will you be able to face them if they choose to attack when word of our alliance reaches them?"
"You forgot about us, Lady Melisa. Drakonars will stand with you…"
"Lord Maelor, let me hear her worries, please." Laenor then turned toward Lady Melisa. "And why," Laenor asked softly, "do you believe yourself threatened by this Gontaris clan, my lady?"
Melisa glanced at Lord Maelor, who gave a brief nod—permission. "My family and the Gontaris have been rivals for generations," she explained. "The feud is ancient. Eventually, my father and the former head of House Gontaris reached an accord—to bind our bloodlines through marriage. My elder brother Aurion was to wed the Gontaris daughter, and I was promised to Maegor Gontaris."
Her voice tightened. "But since my brothers died, and after Maegor's father passed, Maegor revealed his true nature. With me as his wife, he intends to claim the entirety of the Zaldri family. He has spared no effort proclaiming his victory, and that of his clan Gontaris over my clan Zaldri to anyone who would listen."
Her fists clenched harder. "I do not wish to marry him. My father, foresighted as he was, included a clause in the contract—should I object, I may challenge Maegor to a dragon duel and choose my champion."
"I see no reason for you to question my strength in this matter," Laenor replied evenly. "Given Embaryx's size alone, I find it difficult to believe that Maegor—dragon and all—would pose much of a challenge. Or do you doubt Embaryx's power, Lady Melisa?"
Before she could answer, a thunderous roar shook the chamber, rattling the glass in the windows.
Lady Melisa nearly leapt from her feet in fright.
Laenor smiled faintly. It seemed Embaryx had his own opinions about being underestimated.
"That is a very powerful dragon you ride, Lord Laenor," Maelor said quietly, his gaze fixed upon the storm-darkened skies beyond the window. "Very powerful… and very familiar."
"I did not mean to imply Embaryx is inferior in any way," Lady Melisa said hastily, panic flickering across her face as Laenor turned toward her. He was looking at Lord Maelor for details about what he meant by very familiar. But maybe he would ask later. "But even if you defeat—or kill—Maegor, the Gontaris will not let it end there. There is a chance they will come for you and yours in vengeance. And unlike a formal challenge, they will not face you one by one."
Her wide, anxious eyes never left him as she finished speaking.
Laenor, instead of replying to Melisa, turned toward Lord Maelor. "Wouldn't the Council or any kind of city guard object and try to stop the Gontaris from attacking me, if it came to that?" Laenor asked.
"No. The Council, or any force of Valyria that is not a dragonlord family, is barred from interfering in inner conflicts among dragonlords. It is an ancient law, one that was established during the founding of the Freehold," Lord Maelor replied. He soon elaborated further, explaining the reasoning behind it—which, when summarized simply, amounted to this: the dragonlords of old did not want anyone interfering in their warmongering against one another.
"Though I have many more questions after that explanation, Lord Maelor," Laenor said lightly, "I believe I should answer Lady Melisa before she faints from nervousness and impatience." He chuckled softly at Melisa's embarrassed blush. During Maelor's explanation, she had been watching the two of them with visible anxiety, her hands repeatedly smoothing and fidgeting with her dress. "Since these Gontaris are your family's rival, I assume you are aware of how many dragonriders they command?" Laenor asked her. Though he could defeat several dragons without breaking a sweat, there was no harm in knowing what he might face.
"Eight dragonriders, each with full-grown dragons," Melisa replied, offering him a sorrowful smile.
"Fret not, Lady Melisa," Laenor said calmly, confidence clear in his voice and posture. "If you agree to marry my cousin and accept me as your lord and the head of your clan, I will protect you—and I will defeat anyone who dares to harm you."
"Can you truly defeat them all alone, Lord Laenor?" Lady Elaena asked, skepticism evident in her tone. Even her alluring voice did little to soften the blow of doubt to his ego.
"Not only eight," Laena cut in sharply, speaking for the first time. "Laenor could defeat ten such families alone and not even get warmed up. My brother is far more powerful than he lets on. Do you know of the Stepstones War—"
Ten? Laenor could defeat them, yes—but not even warm up? His sister was boasting now, shamelessly. And yet… why did it feel so good? Perhaps this was how kings felt when heralds announced their titles and deeds.
"—and that was years ago," Laena continued unabated. "Now, I'm certain Laenor could flood entire isles. Maybe even drag dragons from the sky with water alone—"
"Enough, sister," Laenor interrupted, placing a hand on Laena's arm and fixing her with a pointed look. "I think you've made your point." She had revealed far more than necessary. Still, he couldn't fully blame her—his ego had been enjoying the praise far too much.
"I did not realize, Lord Laenor, that your talent lies in bending water," Lady Elaena remarked, a victorious smile curving her lips, clearly pleased to have extracted something useful.
"That should be obvious, given the family he comes from," Lord Maelor added absently—until Laenor's curious gaze prompted him to elaborate. "The Velaryons of old were said to wield both water and fire to their will. Though never on the scale you seem capable of—not even on the scale the royal blood of the Rhoynar once achieved."
Laenor sighed and shook his head. How much more of his bloodline was he yet to learn about? It did not sit well with him that he was discovering his own family's history from near-strangers—first Jaenara, now Maelor. Perhaps there was something he could trade Lord Drakonar for access to the public family archives—not the private vaults where so-called family magic was hidden, but the records where the histories of many bloodlines were preserved.
He could go to Aegor Velaryon, but Laenor is sure Drakonar's Library would hold much more than the Velaryons of Valyria, a family that was only a ghost of what it once was. So Laenor started to think about what to trade with the Drakonars.
Magic and the wands were out of the question. He had no intention of handing it out like sweets—not that the Drakonars could advance far without his guidance anyway. Still, magic and wands were not an option.
There had to be something—something of little value to him, yet worth a great deal to the Drakonars.
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