Daeron chuckled and plucked the last shell fragments from the golden hatchling's slender neck. "Little one, you're tiny but your temper's huge."
"Hiss-graa~~"
The golden dragon bared its teeth and lunged at his fingers.
Daeron flicked its forehead. The hatchling went cross-eyed, wobbled, and flopped back into the broken shell.
"Fifth dragon in the family, and it's a rare golden one."
He lifted the hatchling into his arms, voice softening. "The clutch that produced Toothless really was something special."
Toothless and the golden hatchling were brothers from the same clutch.
That proved the mother dragon had been extraordinary.
"A golden hatchling hatching right after my coronation and at the start of a Long Summer? That's good fortune if I ever saw it."
Daeron planned to spread the news. It would boost his reputation as the new king.
Besides, the little golden dragon was stunning. He had no intention of letting anyone else tame it.
"I'll save it for my own child."
He would keep this one close until he became a father.
"Hiss-graa—!"
Caraxes stared down at the fragile hatchling with cold golden eyes, then lost interest. The great red dragon curled up on the sand and closed his eyes.
Each dragon had its own temperament. Caraxes was fierce, cruel, and loved breathing fire. Empathy was not his strength.
Daeron ignored him and turned his attention to the loot the Volantenes were delivering.
He was about to get rich.
Bloodstone Island.
Rhaegar had just driven off another wave of Tyroshi pirates and slaver ships from Slaver's Bay. His own losses had been heavy. The Windblown and Second Sons were growing restless, morale cracking.
After half a month of waiting, Oberyn finally returned with a representative from House Martell.
Areo Hotah, captain of Prince Doran's guard.
"Honored prince, I bring Prince Doran's blessings on behalf of my lord. May you remain safe and well."
Areo was a blunt, massive man who spoke without flourish.
Rhaegar answered evenly. "Tell Prince Doran I often think of his friendship and wish him a swift recovery."
After brief pleasantries, the real negotiation began.
Oberyn had lost his earlier smile. His voice was serious. "My brother's terms may seem harsh, but you owe House Martell. Fair is fair."
Rhaegar had expected this. He had betrayed the Martells twice. He was ready to be squeezed.
"Prince, I will repeat Prince Doran's exact words."
Areo spoke with grim formality. "Prince Doran agrees to send ten thousand Dornish soldiers and fifteen warships with all necessary supplies. But there are two conditions."
"First, your eldest son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, must be betrothed to Princess Arianne Martell. They will marry as soon as she reaches her first flowering at thirteen."
"Second, Lady Lyanna has been confirmed pregnant again by the maesters."
"If the child is a boy, he will be fostered at Sunspear and raised under Prince Doran's guidance."
"If the child is a girl, she will be betrothed to Prince Quentyn Martell and sent to Sunspear at thirteen to wed."
In short, House Martell intended to bind Rhaegar's entire line to them.
Oberyn watched Rhaegar in silence, a faint smirk playing at his lips, curious how the fallen prince would respond.
Rhaegar was quiet for a moment. "The terms need adjusting."
After hard bargaining, they reached a compromise.
Young Aegon would remain free.
If Lyanna's second child was a boy, he would join Prince Doran's household as a squire at age twelve.
If a girl, she would be betrothed to Prince Quentyn and sent to Sunspear at thirteen.
Prince Doran cared most about little Aegon's marriage. He wanted to lock the boy in as Arianne's future husband.
But Rhaegar's counter was clever.
Rhaenys was his true heir. Aegon was part of her inheritance. The two were already linked. There would be no conflict.
Unless Rhaenys herself refused, Aegon would honor no other betrothal.
Areo's face darkened. The talks had not gone smoothly. "Prince, I will carry your counteroffer to Prince Doran and await his decision."
Rhaegar remained calm and signaled Myles and Richard to see the man out.
He knew Doran would accept.
First, Rhaegar had openly declared Rhaenys as his rightful heir. That alone would ease Doran's suspicions.
Second, the provisions for Lyanna's unborn child—boy as squire, girl as betrothed—already satisfied Doran's appetite.
Doran was not arrogant enough to demand both of Rhaegar's children be fully bound to House Martell.
"You remembered Rhaenys. That proves you still have a heart."
Oberyn's tone was half-relieved, half-mocking.
Rhaegar ignored the jab and made his request. "Oberyn, you won't need to stay on Bloodstone from now on. I need you to do something for me."
"Name it."
Oberyn tilted his head.
Rhaegar looked up at the clear blue sky and drifting clouds. His voice was quiet. "I've learned that Daeron has allied with the Volantenes. They attacked Lys itself and looted the city's holdings in the Disputed Lands."
"Even though the Volantenes have withdrawn from Lys proper, the damage to the city is incalculable. The entire eastern continent is shaken."
Oberyn's smile vanished. His expression turned grave.
Dragon King Daeron's reputation already terrified children across the eastern lands.
Daeron's strike on Lys, even without intent to conquer, sent a dangerous message.
It proved he had real ambitions for the Stepstones, the Disputed Lands, and even the Triarchy cities.
And Rhaegar's own targets were the Stepstones and Lys.
"What do you need me to do?"
Oberyn asked seriously.
Rhaegar called forward a prisoner. "This is a Volantene. He can confirm that Malacho Maegyr gave Daeron a dragon egg to win his favor."
"Dragons are the symbol of House Targaryen."
He paused, meeting Oberyn's eyes with quiet sincerity. "Oberyn, you've lived with the Second Sons. You know the eastern continent better than I do. I need you to find me a dragon egg."
Daeron had already shown the path. Now it was up to Rhaegar to follow it.
Only a dragon could change his current situation.
With a dragon, conquering the Stepstones and Lys would become possible.
With a dragon, his line would truly be Targaryen again—able to protect his children, grant them dragon eggs, and restore the old Valyrian dragonlord ways.
Oberyn frowned deeply. He spoke plainly. "I can search for a dragon egg, but they are rare. I make no promises I can find one."
"Do what you can. That's all I ask."
Oberyn sighed. "Fine. I'll try."
He would do it for Elia. And for his sweet little niece.
Grey Gallows.
Malacho finished writing a letter and handed it to a scribe to send back to Volantis. He burst into loud laughter. "I took half of Lys and looted the Disputed Lands. Those two Elephant Party idiots will have to shut up and watch my face now."
"Tell them to prepare full supplies and equipment. I'm going to seize the entire Stepstones in one stroke."
His arrogance had grown.
Taking one island in the Stepstones no longer satisfied him. Now he aimed to conquer the entire Disputed Lands.
That included the Triarchy cities themselves.
A single stretch of the Stepstones only produced special gems and tolls. What was that compared to real glory?
Only by seizing the Triarchy cities and finishing what Volantis had started during the Bleeding Years would he prove his greatness and make his name echo through history.
What gave him such confidence?
"Make sure the delivery of grain and supplies to the Iron Throne is handled perfectly. No complaints."
Malacho had some brains. He knew whose leg to hug. "Remember, Dragon King Daeron is Volantis's—my ally. He will help me conquer the Stepstones and the Triarchy and restore Valyria's glory."
"Staying on good terms with the Iron Throne may feel humiliating, but if it gets him to fight for me, the price is worth paying."
He had it all calculated.
The lieutenant believed every word and marched off to issue orders with renewed confidence.
Who wouldn't believe it?
Dragon King Daeron had twice helped the Volantene fleet crush the Golden Company and the Triarchy, then personally aided the attack on Lys. Afterward he had taken only grain and medicine from the Disputed Lands.
That was clearly an alliance.
Malacho saw it that way. Volantis saw it that way. Even the Triarchy and most of the eastern continent saw it that way.
So while the Triarchy hated Volantis, they now feared the Iron Throne's involvement even more.
The Lysene in particular burned with hatred for the Volantenes and wanted nothing more than to skin them alive.
But they were terrified of the Iron Throne's retaliation, so they stayed quiet for now and did not march.
Lys.
From the southern port inward, half the southwestern and southeastern districts had been looted and burned. Wooden houses and market stalls had caught fire. The blaze had raged for two days and nights, leaving nothing but scorched earth.
Perfume Garden.
Ten governors had abandoned their ruined palace and gathered here for an emergency council.
"Who's missing?"
Valarr's face was half-covered by an ice pack. His once-noble silver-gold hair had been hacked short and uneven. His body was covered in bruises and cuts.
His luck had been terrible. He had run straight into Volantene soldiers. All his guards had died.
He had survived only because he rolled in horse dung and mud, then hid in a slave market stable.
He had cut his own hair. The wounds came from slaves who had taken advantage of the chaos to beat him.
Still, he had escaped with his life.
"Natalya didn't come. Two of the new governors are missing too."
Tregar Ormollen's voice still carried the fear of someone who had barely survived. "I heard Natalya went to the Disputed Lands to collect rents. I'm afraid she ran into the Volantenes."
"It's been half a month. She's probably dead."
Valarr's lip curled in contempt. Good riddance to that whore.
Besides Natalya, two new governors had also been unlucky—captured by Volantenes or rioting slaves and beaten to death on the spot. Their bodies had been found in pieces.
That was the danger of a slave system. It always risked turning on its masters.
Valarr set the ice pack down, revealing one side of his swollen, purple face. He ground his teeth. "Lys has suffered a crushing defeat. We need to summon the city's nobles and wealthy merchants and elect several new governors. It's their turn to share the burden."
"Good. There are already some suitable candidates."
Tregar Ormollen agreed at once. He wanted more people to hide behind and share the risk.
Just then Fredo Rogare spoke up. "My lords, electing new governors is the right move. Half our city lies in ruins. Bankrupt merchants and nobles are everywhere, along with displaced slaves. They are all terrified."
The moment he finished, every governor's face twisted with rage.
Half of Lys was destroyed!!
That damned Dragon King Daeron. He had used his dragon to raid Lys and burned every important building.
Who could have guessed that even specially built anti-dragon towers and scorpion crossbows would be useless against a real dragon?
And the Volantenes were just as bad.
They were animals. Shameless bandits. Despicable invaders.
They hadn't just taken gold and slaves. They had set fires that destroyed half the city.
The damage from this single battle was almost as bad as what had happened to Tyrosh.
"I hate them so much!"
One Valyrian-blooded noble governor slammed his fist on the table, voice shaking with fury.
His family had lost most of its wealth in the chaos. More than a dozen relatives had died.
"That's right. We must make Dragon King Daeron and the Volantenes pay!"
Two banker and slave-trader governors chimed in, both victims who had lost most of their fortunes.
"We can't touch the dragonrider."
Valarr was furious but clear-headed.
Tregar Ormollen's mind raced. He spoke carefully. "What if we asked Braavos to—"
"Stop right there!"
Valarr cut him off with a roar. "How much of your fortune are you willing to spend hiring a Faceless Man?"
A Faceless Man's price could bankrupt even a governor.
Besides, in an age of Life Knights and gem-sequence fighters, the House of Black and White had sealed its doors. They were unreachable.
"So we just let Dragon King Daeron do whatever he wants?"
Tregar Ormollen stared at Valarr's bruised face, a flicker of contempt in his eyes. His tone was no longer respectful.
Valarr clenched his fists. "If Dragon King Daeron could find dragons, why can't we?"
"We'll secretly fund expeditions to Asshai, Qarth, and Sothoryos to buy dragon eggs. Then we'll contact Rhaegar Targaryen and offer marriage alliances to his children."
If you can't beat them, join them.
Better to enrich Rhaegar than let Daeron keep all the power. They would raise their own dragonrider for Lys.
"Once my family carries dragon blood, I will be the new Dragon King—"
Valarr's vision was long-term. He cared about bloodlines and legacy.
Knock knock knock!
Suddenly someone rapped on the door outside.
Including Tregar Ormollen, eight or nine governors flinched at the same time, all remembering the terror of being ruled by a crimson dragon.
"What is it?!"
Fredo Rogare jumped as well and shouted.
A servant pushed the door open and reported. "My lords, the Golden Company left without a word. They boarded their ships and sailed away."
"The Golden Company?"
Tregar Ormollen frowned.
He waved a hand in disgust. "Good riddance. A bunch of useless wastes. They called themselves the greatest sellsword company for nothing."
Lys had paid to equip the Golden Company with scorpion crossbows, only to watch them get crushed by a single dragon.
And their failure had brought the attack on Lys itself.
Complete wastes.
Valarr said nothing. He shared the same contempt and distrust for sellswords and let the Golden Company go without protest.
Fredo tried again. "The Golden Company once supported the Blackfyres. Should we really just let them leave—"
He never finished. The other governors cut him off sharply.
"Unless they produce the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre, they're not real Blackfyres. Not worth our time."
"Exactly. Rhaegar Targaryen's bloodline is far stronger than any Blackfyre's."
"And if we could arrange a marriage with Daeron instead, that would be even better."
The governors spoke over one another, finalizing their plan: take revenge on Volantis while courting Rhaegar Targaryen.
Rhaegar had escaped Lys, but his goal was still the Stepstones.
Lys could fund him and let him fight the Volantenes.
They would back the silver prince against their common enemy.