Doran shifted slightly in his chair. "You speak as if our loyalty is already yours."
"No," Aegon replied. "I speak as if it is available and time-sensitive."
He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, where Albion's shadow passed overhead.
"When I move on Westeros, the Lannisters will fall. Stannis Baratheon will bleed himself dry fighting ghosts of legitimacy. The North will fracture. Chaos will follow."
He looked back at Doran.
"And in that chaos, Gregor Clegane and those who ordered him will be within my reach."
A flicker of something dark crossed Oberyn's face.
"You would give him to us?" Arianne asked carefully.
Aegon shrugged. "If he lives that long. If not, his head. Or what remains of it."
Doran exhaled slowly.
"And in return?" he asked.
Aegon smiled faintly.
"Your banners. Your ports. Your silence and inaction until I call."
Oberyn straightened. "That is not enough."
Aegon turned to him.
"It is everything."
Doran raised a hand, stopping his brother before he could speak again.
"You want loyalty," Doran said. "Then you must offer more than the chance at revenge. We bled for House Targaryen once. We lost Elia. We lost her children. We gained nothing."
Aegon's expression hardened.
"Let's speak truth, during Robert's rebellion, Dorne had put in little effort, even if Rheagar's actions had disrespected you, maybe if you had given your all, the Targaryen would have won, and she and her children would still be alive, or maybe not.
Arianne leaned forward slightly. "If you want our loyalty," she said, "perhaps a marriage alliance would...."
"No."
The word was immediate. Final.
Arianne blinked.
"I am already promised," Aegon continued. "Twice, in truth. And even if I were not, I would not bind myself to Dorne with vows."
Oberyn narrowed his eyes. "You insult us."
"No," Aegon replied. "I refuse to pretend."
He stepped forward, his presence pressing down on the room.
"You do not negotiate from a position of strength," he said. "You have waited too long. You are foaming at the mouth for your revenge, and have nothing to offer me that would equal me taking a Dornish Queen."
He looked at Doran again.
The water trickled softly through the chamber as Doran's gaze dropped to the floor, then slowly lifted again.
"And if we refuse?" the prince asked.
Aegon's voice was quiet.
"Then you will watch the world burn from the sidelines," he said. "And the men responsible for Elia's death will die without you getting your satisfaction, and if you stand in my way or don't bend the knee when I return to Westeros, Dorne will burn.
Oberyn's jaw clenched.
Arianne said nothing.
Doran closed his eyes for a long moment.
When he opened them, they were clear.
"You offer us vengeance," he said slowly. "And demand loyalty. Nothing more."
"Exactly," Aegon replied. "Kneel, and I will open the path. Stand proud, and history will forget you."
The silence stretched.
"House Martell," he said quietly, "will stand with the dragon, but as you must know, I am unable to bend the knee. I hope this bow will be enough." Doran says as he bows.
Oberyn hesitated and then knelt.
Arianne followed.
Aegon watched them without triumph.
"Good," he said. "Then prepare. When I return to Westeros… your wait will finally end."
The sun was already sinking when Aegon rose into the sky above Sunspear.
Bahamut's wings beat once, twice, and the heat of the downdraft sent banners snapping and sand spiraling through the air. The Martell guards along the walls watched in silence, spears clenched tight, as the dragonlord they had just sworn to follow ascended beyond their reach.
As Sunspear shrank beneath them, Aegon let his thoughts wander, something he rarely allowed himself.
The North had been secured not by banners, but by obligation.
Ned Stark would not ride for him, but neither would the North move blindly against him. When war came, hesitation would cost his enemies more than loyalty ever could, and the letters and Ned siding with Stannis will surely cause even more death and destruction.
The Reach was a greater prize.
Highgarden had bent without fire, without blood. Olenna Tyrell had seen the truth of him quickly: dragons won wars, but alliances ruled after them. Margaery's acceptance had been… useful. More than useful.
She was ambitious, perceptive, and already thinking beyond the present.
A dangerous woman, he thought. One I can use.
Dorne, however, was different.
They had not bent because they feared him.
They had bent because he had offered them something they had been starving for since Robert's rebellion.
Vengeance.
Aegon's lips curved faintly.
Two kingdoms tied to me, he thought.
Just as it should be.
This world was no longer the one he remembered.
Ned Stark lived.
The Stark girls were free.
The Lannisters were exposed sooner than they should have been.
Stannis Baratheon would move differently now, faster, more desperate. The Tyrells would not rush to crown a boy king with no future.
And Daenerys…
Aegon's thoughts slowed as they turned to her.
Daenerys was no longer a frightened girl sold to a khalasar.
She was a queen in waiting, with dragons at her side and a child in her arms.
Our child, he corrected.
Maegor.
The world had changed the moment that boy had drawn breath.
And it would change again when Aegon returned.
Daenerys sat near the open terrace, Maegor cradled carefully in her arms.
The child slept peacefully, his small chest rising and falling, one tiny hand curled into the fabric of her gown. His silver hair caught the torchlight, pale as moonshine.
At her feet, the hatchlings slept.
Balerion lay curled protectively against her leg, his black scales still bearing faint scarlet ripples that shimmered in the firelight. The deep green hatchling was draped across a cushion, bronze flecks dull with sleep. The pale cream dragon rested closest to Maegor, its small body rising and falling in time with the child's breath.
Above the city, Igneel circled lazily, his massive wings cutting through the night sky as his presence kept all fear at bay.
Daenerys looked up at him, then back down at the child in her arms.
So much had changed.
She was no longer afraid of her future.
Aegon had seen to that.
She missed him.
His absence left a weight she had not expected, a quiet tension that lingered even surrounded by dragons and warriors.
He should be back soon, she thought. He said he would not be long.
Her gaze drifted toward the eastern sky.
"I hope things are going well," she whispered softly, though Maegor could not hear her.
The hatchling stirred at her feet, releasing a small puff of smoke, and Daenerys smiled faintly.
Unseen by her, far across the sea, a black dragon cut through the darkness, carrying a man who was reshaping the world one kingdom at a time.