In the royal apartments deep within Maegor's Holdfast, Damon Targaryen finally faced his family.
The chamber was warm despite the gray afternoon beyond the windows. Braziers burned low beside carved pillars while servants moved quietly between tables carrying wine, food, and fresh candles.
No one touched the food.
Rhaella Targaryen sat near the hearth, wrapped in black-and-red silks, one hand resting upon her swollen belly. Though exhaustion lingered in her pale face, something stronger had returned to her eyes since Caraxes appeared above the city.
Hope.
Viserys stood nearby, unable to remain still for longer than a few moments. The younger prince paced constantly, silver hair disheveled and eyes bright with feverish excitement.
Elia Martell sat opposite them, quiet and observant, little Rhaenys asleep against her shoulder while baby Aegon rested nearby beneath the watchful eye of a nursemaid.
And standing before them all, freshly returned from council with Tywin Lannister, was Damon.
Silence held the room for only a moment before Viserys exploded.
"You have a dragon."
The younger prince sounded halfway between accusation and awe.
Damon blinked once slowly.
"Yes."
Viserys threw both hands upward.
"Yes?" he repeated incredulously. "That's all you have to say? A full-grown adult dragon, the only living dragon anyone has seen in a century, and with it you forced Tywin Lannister to surrender outside the city walls, and all you say is yes?"
Despite himself, Damon smiled faintly.
"It seemed sufficient."
Viserys stared at him for a long moment before laughing sharply in disbelief.
Rhaella did not laugh.
Her gaze remained fixed upon her son with unnerving intensity.
"Where did it come from?" she asked softly.
The room stilled instantly.
As expected of the queen, she asked the question everyone in the city wanted to know, but no one had the balls to ask, even the mighty Tywin Lannister.
Damon had prepared for this.
He walked slowly toward the windows overlooking the city.
"Dragonstone." Not really a lie.
"You haven't been to Dragonstone in years. Do not lie to me." Rhaella said.
"I did not lie too you mother. I did get him on Dragonstone, but I never said it was recently."
Damon turned back toward them, expression composed.
"I found an egg five years ago, the last time I was on Dragonstone, and it hatched into the dragon you saw today. His name is Caraxes, the same name as the dragon the rogue prince rode years ago." Damon said his expression never changed.
Viserys frowned immediately.
"There are no dragon eggs on Dragonstone; the island had been searched many times throughout the years. Right, Mom?" HE said as he turned to look at the queen for support.
But the queen said nothing, just kept looking at her eldest living son.
"Mom..."
"That's enough, Viserys. There are caverns beneath the mountains of Dragonstone; no one could have completely searched the island. Finding the egg was your brother's luck." The queen said her voice carried a rare tone of finality.
Damon looked at his mother, surprised.
It was clear she didn't believe his story, but she had chosen to block Viserys from asking any more questions.
His mother was the only one in the family he truly cared for, but lying to her was needed; there was no way he would expose his ability to anyone, and even when he brought back more dragons in the future, he would have to lie again.
"Five years is a short amount of time for a dragon to grow that big, and without any rumors of its appearance during that time, it must have been a streak of luck," Elia said as she studied Damon.
Damon looked at her and could tell what she was thinking deep down; he wondered if she had the guts to ask the question that must be burning her tongue. If she did, she would get the truth, and so would everyone present.
They wouldn't like it; they might think him a monster, but he would tell them.
"A dragon grows quickly when left undisturbed, and as for there being no rumors, Caraxes is very obedient. I told him to burn anyone who ever saw him. When I left Dragonstone two years after he had hatched. At that time, he was big enough to do it."
"I have no doubt he was spotted over the years, but no one survived to spread the news." Damon said, looking her dead in the eyes.
The Dornish Princess held his gaze, refusing to look away.
The Queen looked at them, but refused to intervene. She had already come to her own conclusions about everything, and hearing the truth now would change nothing. She loved her son, and he was truly now the only thing keeping the Targaryens on the Iron Throne.
Rhaella watched him closely. Damon could feel it, the way her eyes lingered too long upon his face, searching for something hidden beneath the calm mask he wore.
Mothers noticed changes others missed.
"You've changed," she said suddenly.
The words settled heavily across the room.
Damon remained still.
"Or, perhaps you've stopped hiding. Yes, that is it, you are no longer hiding who you are. As a mother, I have failed you in not seeing it earlier." Rhaella said, looking at him.
Damon stripped his eyes from Elia's and looked at his mother, and sighed.
"I didn't want you to know, I didn't want anyone to know, I knew those two would bring this family to its brink....." Damon stopped as Elia cut him off.
"If you had him before now…" Her voice was soft and careful.
"Why didn't you save Rhaegar?"
The chamber went still.
Damon's head snapped to her. She asked the question. This woman was braver than Tywin Lannister.
Rhaella looked stricken immediately.
Even Viserys looked suddenly uncomfortable.
"Elia..."
"No," the Dornish princess interrupted quietly, eyes never leaving Damon's face. "I deserve to know."
Pain lingered beneath her composure now.
Raw and human.
"My husband died at the Trident. If Damon possessed a dragon before the battle…" Her voice tightened slightly. "Then why was he not there?"
" Because I didn't think he was worth saving." Damon's cold response shocked all in the room.
"What?!?" Elia asked clearly, not expecting that answer.
"He wasn't worth saving," Damon repeated.
"No one forced him to do what he did; he knew what it would cause and did it anyway. Look at how many people died because of him. Why would I save him? You should be asking yourself why you care that he is dead. Is it because your children can no longer sit on the Iron Throne?" Damon asked in a cold voice.
Elia couldn't answer, just sat silently watching Damon as tears dripped down her face.
After a few minutes of silence, Elia looked away.
Probably not convinced. But exhausted enough to stop pushing.
Rhaella broke the silence carefully.
"The realm will demand a king now." Her voice regained some strength as she spoke.
"Your father is dead. Rhaegar is gone. The lords will expect a coronation immediately."
Viserys straightened eagerly.
"Yes," he said quickly. "You should be crowned now. Before the rebels regroup."
Damon walked slowly toward the hearth before answering.
Flames reflected in his violet eyes.
"I have no intention of rushing to sit the Iron Throne."
Viserys blinked.
"What?"
"Being crowned as the rebellion is still ongoing is not what I want."
Rhaella frowned slightly.
"But the realm must see stability."
"The realm will see victory," Damon corrected calmly.
He turned toward them.
"When Robert Baratheon bends the knee, or burns, then I will be crowned."
The sheer certainty in his voice silenced the room.
Elsewhere within the Red Keep, Tywin Lannister sat alone beside a narrow window overlooking Blackwater Bay.
The chamber Damon provided him was luxurious by most standards, with rich carpets, carved furniture, and silver candleholders, but Tywin recognized the truth instantly.
It was still a gilded cage.
Four guards remained outside constantly, Messengers were inspected, and servants watched carefully.
Damon trusted nothing.
Tywin approved of that instinct.
The Lord of Casterly Rock sat motionless for several long moments, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he replayed the day's events repeatedly through his mind.
Every calculation ended the same way.
Dragon.
The word changed everything.
Robert Baratheon could not win now. Not truly.
Perhaps battles. Perhaps temporary victories.
But wars? No.
History had proven repeatedly that dragons rewrote wars entirely.
Tywin rose slowly and walked toward the window.
Far above the city, Caraxes was once again circling through gathering dusk like a crimson comet.
Magnificent.
Terrifying.
Useful.
Tywin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Damon Targaryen would become king. That much was now inevitable.
The question was no longer whether the dragon prince would rule.
The question was who would stand beside him when he did.
Tywin had not built House Lannister into the richest power in Westeros through stubborn pride alone. Men who refused to adapt died forgotten.
So he adapted.
Damon possessed fire.
House Lannister possessed gold.
Together…
The thought settled firmly into place.
Cersei.
Tywin moved immediately.
"Guard," he called sharply.
The door opened at once.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Ink. Paper. Wax."
The guard nodded quickly and vanished.
Tywin returned to the table near the window while his mind worked relentlessly ahead.
Damon would never be controlled fully.
That much was obvious.
The young prince possessed too much ambition and too much power for chains.
But influence?
Influence remained possible.
Marriage-bound kingdoms more effectively than fear alone ever could.
Minutes later, the writing materials arrived.
Tywin sat immediately and began writing in precise, elegant strokes.
To Casterly Rock.
To Cersei.
Every word deliberate.
The political landscape of Westeros had shifted overnight, and House Lannister would shift with it—or perish beneath dragonfire.
As the letter dried beneath candlelight, Tywin allowed himself one final glance toward the skies above King's Landing.
Caraxes roared in the distance.
And somewhere far to the north, marching steadily southward beneath banners of stag and direwolf, the rebel army advanced toward a fate none of them yet understood.