Chapter 85: The Conditions
Vhagar carefully circled around Vermithor, who was now visibly no smaller than her, and slowly descended onto the first level of Dragon Nest City's walls. Opposite her stood Jacaerys Velaryon and Vermax.
The Bronze Fury, Vermithor, landed unceremoniously behind Vermax, and Dragonzel, with his hands resting on the dragon saddle, quietly watched as Prince Aemond climbed down from Vhagar's back.
Vermax wanted to roar at Aemond, but upon seeing Vhagar, he calmed down. The young dragon assessed that if he provoked Vhagar, Vermithor might not be quick enough to save him, so he gave up the idea of roaring and instead glared fiercely at Aemond.
As soon as Aemond climbed off the dragon's back, he noticed the people gathered in the first-floor courtyard of the castle. Not only were there the three Black faction princes, but also Lord Edric Dondarrion, Lord Randal Cafferen, and Lord Harlo Selmy, who had taken over his grandfather's position—these three great nobles of the Stormlands—as well as Lord Reville Hayford, who had grown into a young man, and Lord Tigris Hightower, whose hair had already turned white.
These two nobles had been allowed to develop the Stone Road and the Red Mountains in recent years, becoming quite influential lords—at least no less powerful than House Grandison of All-Sight City, which had not yet sworn fealty.
The young Lord Quentyn Manwoody was also present, speaking with Lord Reville Hayford. Another newly rising Dornish lord, Lord Oberon Santagar, had taken charge of the guard, clad in brass scale armor and holding a spear, standing vigil at the side.
"This is bad… the news has already spread." Aemond immediately understood why all of Dragonzel's powerful vassals were gathered here—except for those stationed elsewhere: Lyn Valyrian at Prince's Pass, Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, and Lord Bryndemere Caron, who had been granted lands in the eastern valleys.
But the one-eyed prince showed no fear. He strode forward proudly toward Vermithor, raised his head, and declared:
"Dragonzel, I come as an envoy."
Dragonzel nodded.
Jacaerys silently stepped forward, took a piece of bread from a servant holding a tray, dipped it in salt, and handed it to Aemond.
Aemond quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He accepted the bread, chewed it a few times, and swallowed.
Even with only one eye, Aemond could see the veins bulging on Jacaerys's arm. The fourteen-year-old boy was clearly suppressing his fury.
"State your purpose, Prince Aemond." Dragonzel had no intention of dismounting. He was genuinely curious what terms the Greens could offer.
After all, when they had received news from King's Landing, Jacaerys had already represented his mother and stepfather—rightfully so—and offered extremely generous conditions.
Those terms included: any seat on Queen Rhaenyra's Small Council, even the position of Hand of the Queen; his heir being fostered as an adopted son until adulthood and marrying into House Velaryon; exemption from fortification and luxury taxes for fifty years; and the right for House Varezes to appoint stewards of the Royal Mint in Summerhall and Silver Crown City, along with rights over lands seized from rebellious lords of the Stormlands.
"I come on behalf of the rightful king, King Aegon II Targaryen." Aemond swallowed but continued firmly. "Prince Dragonzel, as a loyal vassal of the Iron Throne, His Grace requests your allegiance."
Dragonzel glanced down at his two younger brothers.
"Valarr, Ray… if I remember correctly, when we first came to this land, King Viserys required us to swear allegiance and defend Princess Rhaenyra's succession. Is that correct?"
Ray smiled and nodded silently.
"I also remember swearing allegiance to Princess Rhaenyra." Valarr stepped forward. "So shouldn't Queen Rhaenyra now sit upon the Iron Throne?"
"I too swore to uphold the princess's succession." Lord Randal Cafferen spoke in a deep voice. "Though I am old, I have not forgotten my oath."
"My father once served the princess." Lord Dondarrion added. "Before his death, he reminded me again and again—our oath stands above life itself, witnessed by the gods." He fixed his gaze on Aemond. "I wonder if the oathbreakers in King's Landing are prepared to face divine judgment."
"Rhaenyra is the oathbreaker," Aemond replied calmly. "The Great Council already denied female succession. The lords of the realm swore to my father, not Princess Rhaenys. This proves the gods favor male succession. Your oath cannot override that."
"You dare deny the sanctity of oaths!" Lord Randal Cafferen shouted angrily, instinctively reaching for a sword he had not brought.
"Dragonzel, I have brought the rightful king's terms. You may as well hear them first." Aemond stepped back slightly.
Vhagar suddenly lunged forward.
Vermithor immediately stretched his neck, flames flickering in his throat.
Faced with Vermithor, Vhagar slowly retreated.
"Speak." Dragonzel looked down at Aemond with interest.
"You may choose any of the following positions: Hand of the King, Master of Coin, or Master of Ships. You will also gain control over the Royal Mint at Summerhall."
Aemond glanced at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and the young princes.
"My brother, Crown Prince Jaehaerys, is willing to be betrothed to Samantha, making her the future queen. The engagement between Jaehaera and Ray remains unchanged. As for Valarr, we propose a match between Daniela and Meral."
Ray laughed lightly. He didn't even know what Jaehaera looked like—only that Jaehaerys had six fingers.
He walked over to young Aegon and pinched his nose.
"Did you hear that? Someone's trying to steal your bride."
Aegon immediately glared at Aemond.
"Aemond… if this is all you can offer, should I take it as an insult to my mother and my knight?" Jacaerys said coldly.
"Return, Aemond." Dragonzel smiled faintly and straightened. Vermithor continued glaring at Vhagar.
"Tell your 'King' Aegon—" he deliberately emphasized the word, "—what gives him the confidence to think these terms can overturn an oath witnessed by the gods?"
"Aemond, you've studied the histories. The wars of dragonlords are no trivial matter."
Vermithor crawled forward slowly, raising his massive head as if two mountains stood facing one another in the courtyard.
"Dragon blood is far more terrifying than mortal blood. Valyria proved that long ago. If you or your brother possess even a shred of wisdom, then show true sincerity—let Princess Rhaenyra see what right you claim, and show me how you intend to defend House Targaryen's hard-won throne."
Vermithor unleashed a thunderous roar.
Aemond staggered, barely maintaining his footing as he grabbed the rope ladder hanging from Vhagar's saddle.
Vhagar tried to roar in response—but was completely suppressed.
"I understand." Aemond knew his mission had failed. He quickly climbed back onto the saddle.
"Prince, I will deliver your words to the king." His voice turned colder. "I hope you will return to the rightful path and support the true king and sacred law."
With that, he pulled the reins.
Vhagar struggled into the air, spreading her vast wings as she slowly ascended.
"Brother, shall we pursue?" Valarr asked eagerly.
Dragonzel shook his head.
"The war has not yet begun. There's no need to unleash dragons prematurely. I'm more curious about their intentions… and whether they are ready to face the princess's wrath."
"Jacaerys, Lucerys—prepare yourselves. I'll escort you back to Dragonstone."
Jacaerys nodded and immediately mounted Vermax.
Lucerys hurried toward the Dragon Tower—Arrax was still devouring mutton in its nest.
"Valarr, remain here and wait for Alan and Lyn."
"Understood." Valarr nodded. "I will tally our available forces. A raven from Sunspear reports poor harvests in Dorne, and remnants of House Yronwood are still causing trouble. Sunspear and Starfall cannot send troops, but Prince Qoren Martell supports the rightful line. Lord Dagos Gargalen will bring 1,000 spearmen and 500 sand riders."
"That will suffice." Dragonzel nodded.
"Oberon."
Lord Oberon Santagar stepped forward immediately.
"You are to return to your lands. Watch the southern borders closely—prevent any Yronwood remnants from crossing."
"Yes, my prince."
Dragonzel finalized military arrangements and ordered the Varezes fleet to patrol the Dornish Sea against Stepstones pirates and the Triarchy.
Only then did he take flight with Jacaerys and Lucerys.
Dragonstone
Rhaenyra had given birth to a monster.
A twisted, malformed stillborn—its body deformed, with a hole in its chest, covered in scales, and bearing a short, stunted tail.
The ordeal had nearly killed her.
Only after Mushroom carried the corpse away for cremation did she begin to recover.
The Painted Table Chamber
The great carved table of Aegon the Conqueror stood illuminated with burning markers representing the lords of the realm.
Rhaenyra, pale and weakened, was helped into the chamber by Ser Lorent Marbrand and seated at its head.
Daemon sat at her right, holding her hand.
Princess Rhaenys sat nearby, silently turning dragon figurines.
Maester Gerardys stood to her left beside Lord Corlys Velaryon—the Sea Snake, still proud and unyielding.
Behind her stood Ser Erryk Cargyll and Ser Lorent Marbrand.
The assembled lords included:
Lord Bartimos Celtigar, Lord Gormon Massey, Lord Simon Staunton, Lord Gunthor Darklyn, Lord Baelor Celtigar, and Ser Alfred Broome.
Daemon glanced around and sighed.
Dragonstone's strength was pitiful—barely a few hundred soldiers.
"My lords," Rhaenyra said coldly, "my daughter Visenya was murdered. My crown stolen. I will make the traitors pay."
"Your Grace, our forces are insufficient," Lord Staunton warned.
"They are not kings—only traitors," Rhaenyra snapped.
"Many still doubt female succession," Maester Gerardys added cautiously.
"There are still those who remember their oaths," she replied.
Corlys spoke firmly:
"My fleet and my wealth are yours."
"And we have dragons," Rhaenyra added.
"They have Vhagar," Gerardys reminded.
"We have more," Rhaenys said, rising.
She listed them all—and then:
"If Dragonzel joins us, Vermithor alone can rival Vhagar."
The room grew tense.
"Then we can burn King's Landing," Celtigar said eagerly.
Corlys cut him off sharply.
"We seek to rule—not destroy."
Silence followed.
"Why not hear their terms?" Gerardys suggested.
Rhaenyra's eyes turned cold.
"Speak."
"They offer you Dragonstone… recognition of your sons… and positions at court—if you kneel."
Silence fell.
Then—
"Do you remember my father?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And his heir?"
"You."
"Then why bring such insults into my court?"
"There is no peace left," Daemon said coldly.
At that moment—
Three dragons roared in the distance.
Rhaenys moved to the window.
"They've returned."
Lord Celtigar smiled.
"Your Grace… the dragons have come."
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