Thick smoke curled from the hearth inside Dragonstone's war room, but it did nothing to warm the tension that coiled around the table like a tightening noose. The firelight flickered across maps and aged parchment, but no one moved to read them. The silence was deep broken only by the distant boom of waves beyond the stone walls.
"Say that again," Rhaenyra said, her voice a low, strained whisper.
Maester Gerardys stood straight, hands trembling slightly as he unrolled the royal raven's scroll once more.
"Prince Daeron Targaryen has returned to King's Landing," he repeated, swallowing. "He did not arrive by ship, but by air. On the back of the great black dragon—the one long called the Shadow."
The chamber erupted.
"Impossible," muttered Ser Steffon Darklyn, pushing from the wall.
"That beast has never accepted a rider," Rhaenys snapped, arms crossed, disbelief flashing in her eyes.
Daemon didn't speak at first. He stood near the window, staring out into the grey mist over the cliffs.
"They called him wild," he finally said. "But they were wrong."
Jacaerys leaned forward, brow furrowed.
"He was ours at least, he lived here. Why didn't he choose one of us?"
Lucerys answered softly.
"Because we all tried to claim him like a prize."
Daemon turned his head slightly, watching Lucerys with a flicker of something—pride or agreement, it was hard to say.
"Daeron didn't try to own him," he said, his voice calm, deliberate. "He asked. And the dragon answered."
Rhaenyra stared at her uncle, blinking slowly.
"You knew."
Daemon nodded. "I suspected. I saw the signs."
Corlys Velaryon's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"And now the Greens have him. Not some hatchling. A great, ancient force. Larger than Caraxes. Swifter than Meleys. And now willing."
Rhaenys lowered her gaze.
"This is not like Vhagar. Vhagar was claimed by power. This one… Vezdaryon, if that is what they'll call him…"
"Vezdaryon?" Rhaenyra asked, brow raised.
Daemon gave a rare, thin smile.
"Valyrian. 'Son of flame and destruction.' A name he chose himself, if Daeron is to be believed."
The fire cracked. Outside, a gust of wind howled.
Jace paced behind the table.
"The people will hear of it. A dragon thought untamable, now flying above the Red Keep with one of their princes. It will change everything."
"And Daeron?" Rhaenyra asked. "How will they see him now?"
"As a true Targaryen," Daemon said bluntly. "The quiet one has become the boldest of them all."
Lucerys' mouth tightened.
"And if Aemond or Aegon grows jealous?"
Corlys grunted. "Then the skies will burn."
Rhaenyra finally sat. Her jaw clenched.
"We can't match that bond. Not with another rider. Not with brute force. If we push, we look desperate."
Rhaenys added, "But if we sit idle, the image of their power will grow unchecked."
Daemon moved to the table, dragging a marker across the carved map.
"We act with care. Let the realm see we are not shaken. We still hold dragons. Riders. Blood."
"Let the boy's star rise," Rhaenyra said bitterly. "But let it rise alone."
She looked toward Jace and Luke.
"If Daeron can earn the loyalty of a dragon without command… then so must we. No more brute force. No more yelling into the winds."
The fire in the hearth was lower now. Shadows danced across the walls of Dragonstone.
"What do we do now?" Lucerys asked.
Rhaenyra exhaled.
"We wait. We watch. We whisper."
Daemon leaned in.
"And when the time is right we answer."
Outside, wind curled through the tower stones. Far across the sea, Vezdaryon stood silently near the walls of the Red Keep, unaware that his flight had already begun to reshape the war to come.
Not by fire.
Not yet.
But by fear.
———-
This will be the end of the chapters for a while,
It's not dropping or anything.