Alliser Thorne led Jaehaerys and his party on a quick tour of King's Landing before they returned to the Red Keep. The young prince's eyes were wide the whole time.
"I can't believe they actually cleared part of Flea Bottom," Jaehaerys said. He'd heard the stories about the slums since he was a boy. Getting rid of that place had always seemed impossible.
Alliser's face stayed sour, but his tone was almost civil. "The king's orders. Vagrants and the homeless got moved to the new towns. Once they left, Flea Bottom emptied out fast."
"A fire this past spring burned half the place down," he added. "His Grace used it as an excuse to tear down the outer third. No one complained much once they had somewhere else to go."
Jaehaerys nodded, thinking back over everything he'd seen on the ride in. "Still… on the way here I passed villages where people looked half-starved. Even this close to King's Landing."
Alliser snorted. "Starving peasants aren't exactly rare."
Jaehaerys frowned, but Alliser kept talking. "The king built five new towns to soak up every vagrant and refugee he could find. Gave them tools, land, a chance. Problem is, some lords started dumping their own starving smallfolk on the crown's doorstep so they wouldn't have to feed them."
"Northerners and Valemen too—running from the cold. They keep flooding in. The crown finally cut the extra spending. The towns have to stand on their own now."
Jaehaerys stayed quiet for a moment. "A good plan still needs good people to carry it out… and people willing to let it work."
Alliser gave him a sideways look but didn't answer.
---
Red Keep.
Daeron waited in the throne room. When Jaehaerys finally appeared, the younger prince broke into a grin and hurried forward—then remembered he was grown and dropped into a proper bow.
"Your Grace. I'm back."
Daeron laughed and came down the steps. "No need for that, little brother."
One warm word and Jaehaerys's eyes stung. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this place.
"Welcome home," Daeron said, pulling him into a quick hug. "You're not going anywhere this time."
Jaehaerys swallowed hard and nodded.
Daeron kept an arm around his shoulders as they walked. "Come on. Let's find Shaena and the others. They've been asking about you."
---
Dragonpit.
After Jaehaerys had seen their mother and Shaena, Daeron brought the three youngest Targaryens down to the Dragonpit.
"Pay attention, little brother. House Targaryen has seven dragons now."
Viserys—fourteen, tall, silver hair to his shoulders, lilac eyes—had his arm slung around Jaehaerys like they'd never been apart. He looked every inch a Targaryen prince, except for the cocky swagger.
"You've grown up," Jaehaerys said, almost laughing.
"Obviously." Viserys pulled his sword and struck a ridiculous pose. "How do I look? Like the Conqueror?"
Jaehaerys just stared at him for a long second, then patted his shoulder the way you pat a dog that won't stop barking.
Two Dragon Guards crossed their spears at the entrance. "No noise in the Dragonpit."
Viserys rolled his eyes but shut up.
They followed the guards deeper. The air grew hotter. Then a low, warning growl rolled through the dark.
Jaehaerys's heart slammed against his ribs. He grabbed Viserys's hand without thinking.
"Don't be afraid, my princes," one of the guards said in High Valyrian. "That's Caraxes. We're going to see him."
The Dragonpit had no roof and no doors—just open sky and stone. They stepped into a wide underground chamber. The heat hit like a wall. Jaehaerys's boot crunched on something black and brittle—an old dragon rib.
A massive red shape shifted in the shadows.
Caraxes rose.
Forty-five meters of crimson scales and muscle uncoiled. Golden eyes fixed on them. Hot white smoke curled from his nostrils. His wings—nearly a hundred meters across—brushed the walls as he crawled forward.
Jaehaerys and Viserys froze, completely speechless.
"Quiet, Caraxes!" the guard called.
The great red dragon ignored him and kept coming, slow and deliberate, until he passed within arm's reach of the two boys. The heat rolling off his scales was almost unbearable.
Once Caraxes had moved on, the guard exhaled. "This way, my princes."
Viserys wiped sweat from his forehead. "That… that was a dragon."
Jaehaerys swallowed. "A really big one."
They followed the guard out into the main chamber. Caraxes was already tearing into three roasted sheep Daeron had brought.
Daeron stood nearby, one hand resting on the dragon's neck. "You two did fine. Neither of you pissed yourselves."
"Don't remind me," Jaehaerys muttered.
Daeron glanced at Viserys and sighed. "You… just go play somewhere."
Viserys opened his mouth to argue, saw his brother's face, and wisely wandered off.
A tiny silver-haired girl came running and wrapped herself around Daeron's leg. Daenerys Targaryen—six years old, big violet eyes, pale as milk, and currently terrified of everything.
"Brother, your dragon is too big!" she squeaked.
Daeron scooped her up and ruffled her hair. Then he looked at Jaehaerys, serious now.
"Dragons are the reason our house still stands. You need to get used to them."
Jaehaerys's eyes widened. Viserys had said there were seven dragons total. Two already had riders. That left five.
Was Daeron really going to let him try?
Daeron didn't dance around it. "You're not Rhaegar. You're my right hand. The future of this family. I need you strong."
Caraxes let out a low rumble and lowered his head, molten eyes watching them.
Jaehaerys clenched his fists. The weight of it settled on his shoulders, but he didn't flinch.
"Three days from now we sail for Dragonstone," Daeron said. "The other dragons are waiting."
---
Dragonstone, three days later.
Daeron stepped off the Wandering Prince with both younger brothers behind him. Viserys immediately ran across the beach yelling at the top of his lungs like a maniac.
Jaehaerys gave Daeron a long-suffering look. "He's really okay, right?"
Daeron shrugged. "He was like this when he was little too. You just have to accept it."
They climbed toward the Dragonmont. A sharp, high-pitched roar echoed from one of the smoking caves. A flash of green burst into the sky.
Jaehaerys squinted. A young green dragon—bronze and green scales, white wing membranes—wheeled through the smoke, shrieking.
Daeron smiled. "Lucky. First thing you see is a dragon."
He left the two boys with the Dragon Guards. "Stay safe. Don't do anything stupid."
Then he walked away.
Jaehaerys stood there, heart pounding, staring up at the mountain. Five unclaimed dragons lived here. One black. One golden. And three others waiting to be claimed.
He took a deep breath.
It was time.
---
Stepstones – Bloodstone Island.
Rhaegar sat on a rock outside the command tent, listening to the distant sound of burning ships. Oberyn walked up, frowning.
"The Triarchy pirates are playing games. They see we're low on supplies. They're hiding in the caves and waiting for us to starve."
Rhaegar nodded slowly. "We need bait. Something to force them out."
Oberyn gave him a flat look. "You got any bright ideas?"
Rhaegar didn't answer right away. Then he asked the same question he always asked. "Any word on dragon eggs?"
Oberyn snorted. "None. And even if there were, those fake dragon kings in Lys and Volantis are buying every one they hear about."
Rhaegar stood and brushed off his cloak. "Doesn't matter. Once we take the Stepstones, we'll find out what's real and what isn't."
He turned toward the camp. "Gather the men. We attack tonight. Full assault. No more waiting."