Seven days later.
Dragonstone, the Map Chamber.
"Everyone, now that we're all here, it's time to formulate a strategic plan."
At the black stone table, Rhaegar spoke solemnly as he surveyed those present.
All members of House Targaryen and House Velaryon were gathered, along with the small council ministers, Bartimos Celtigar from Crab Isle, and Royce Caron, representing Storm's End.
Corlys Velaryon had laid out a map of the Narrow Sea, two meters wide and five meters long, and pointed to the Stepstones with a serious expression.
"The Iron Throne has officially declared war on the Triarchy. They've been secretly preparing for a long time, and will most certainly seize control of this area first, aiming to dominate the sea routes and trade of the Narrow Sea."
At any time, the disputed lands were always a key battleground for control over the Narrow Sea.
Daemon's eyes gleamed as his finger traced the map to Lys. He spoke with conviction:
"Lys has captured Morgul and is the most powerful of the Triarchy's city-states, as well as being closest to the Stepstones."
"We can deploy our dragons for a mass burn and, together with the naval fleet, seize the shipping lanes and capture the port in one swift move."
Both Daemon and Corlys, seasoned war veterans, had been preparing strategies from the start.
"A solid proposal."
Rhaegar nodded, his gaze lingering on the sea map as he deliberated.
"But there's a problem—we don't have as many dragons to deploy on the front lines as we'd like."
He looked around the room.
Rhaenyra sat before him, gently stroking her gradually swelling belly.
Ser Laenor, supported by Rhaena, stood nearby with their twin daughters at their side.
Helena, Aemond, and Daeron were too young and incapable of going to war.
Opposite him sat his father, whose frail health made it impossible for anyone to expect the King to ride a dragon into battle.
At this moment, Bartimos Celtigar from Crab Isle leaned forward, his sharp eyes gleaming with shrewdness.
"Prince, we actually have more dragons fit for combat than you think."
He firmly believed in the unparalleled power of dragons, as nothing on the battlefield could match them.
Daemon listed the dragons capable of fighting:
"We currently have Cannibal, Caraxes, Meleys, Sea Smoke, and Sunfyre."
"With five dragons, we can destroy any Free City in Essos."
If Daemon were to command the battle, he was confident he could capture Lys within half a month.
Viserys shot him a glance, visibly displeased.
"Our enemies are not limited to just one Free City."
Viserys had initially hoped negotiations would prevent war.
Unexpectedly, things ended with the Triarchy representatives being butchered by a few young hotheads at the negotiating table.
Laenor nodded in agreement, his expression grim.
"The Triarchy's fleet is formidable, having borrowed substantial funds from the Iron Bank to recruit a large number of mercenaries."
"Furthermore, once we engage the Triarchy, Braavos and Dorne will undoubtedly interfere with our rear operations."
Defeating the Triarchy alone was not difficult—the challenge lay in neutralizing other meddlers.
"The flames of war have already ignited; we don't have time to hesitate."
Daemon scowled.
"Gather the fleets of House Velaryon, House Celtigar, Gulltown, and Storm's End. With five dragons, we will launch a full-scale assault on Lys and ensure victory."
Otto Hightower furrowed his brows, concerned.
"Prince, do you know how many troops the Triarchy has assembled? Recklessly charging in will result in heavy casualties for the kingdom's forces."
This raised a key issue—control of battlefield command.
The Hightower fleet was still en route and therefore excluded from the current count.
However, they would arrive soon, and if Daemon, known for his ruthlessness, were to lead the strategy, it was unlikely any Hightower soldiers would return home alive.
Daemon's expression darkened as he glared at Otto, his longtime adversary.
Knock. Knock.
Just as tensions mounted, Rhaegar tapped the table, steering the conversation back on track.
"An all-out frontal assault would cause too many casualties and is not aligned with the kingdom's expectations. Let's not forget that Lys holds a dangerous wild card."
He signaled Tormund, who immediately understood and pulled out a letter, speaking gravely:
"The wild dragon Morgul is in the hands of the Lyseni. The Triarchy has gathered Valyrian descendants from across Essos to tame it—an effort they call the 'Scarlet Sowing.'"
For nearly half a month, dozens to hundreds of people attempted to tame the dragon daily.
Without exception, all perished in dragonfire or were devoured.
A tense silence descended over the chamber.
Viserys's face turned ashen as he gritted his teeth.
"A bunch of despicable thieves trying to steal House Targaryen's dragons!"
Though he spoke defiantly, everyone understood the gravity of the situation.
If anyone succeeded in taming Morgul, it would significantly alter the course of the war.
Worse still, it would embolden countless others to covet the Targaryen dragons.
If Morgul laid eggs…
Or if someone secretly bribed a dragonkeeper to steal an egg and successfully tamed an unclaimed dragon on Dragonstone…
Even if unlikely, it wasn't impossible.
Such a disaster would be catastrophic for House Targaryen.
Daemon's expression darkened further as he slammed the table with a clenched fist.
"That's exactly why we need to strike fast—capture Lys and reclaim the wild dragon."
Rhaegar nodded in agreement but added, "The sooner the war ends, the better. But Uncle, your strategy would be too costly for the kingdom."
Looking directly at his father, he spoke candidly:
"I propose that I serve as the supreme commander of the battlefield, with Lord Corlys leading naval operations and Daemon as vanguard officer."
Daemon immediately countered, "As far as I know, you've barely commanded a large army. Just a few years ago, you were still wet behind the ears."
Rhaegar shot back without missing a beat:
"And yet a few years ago, I led the Second Stepstones War and burned the Triarchy to ashes with resounding success."
He refrained from mentioning another fact—back then, Daemon was rotting in the dungeons of the Red Keep.
The two locked eyes, neither willing to back down.
Viserys, seeing this, felt a headache coming on. He glanced at the calm Corlys and made a decision:
"I support Rhaegar's proposal. It's only reasonable for the crown prince to be the supreme commander."
Daemon had colluded with the Sea Snake; Viserys couldn't risk giving them full control of the military.
Rhaegar smiled confidently.
"Then I'll draft a simplified plan for everyone to review and suggest improvements."
"No problem, Prince," agreed the small council members without objection.
Rhaenyra smiled subtly, glanced back at Rhaegar, and leaned her head gently against his shoulder.
Rhaegar placed both hands on the back of his chair and returned her smile.
The siblings held an exalted status.
In the grand hall of the map table in Norvos, only two people had seats—Viserys and Rhaegar.
Rhaegar ceded his chair to the pregnant Rhaenyra.
Even Laena, who was further along in her pregnancy, had no seat and had to rely on Ser Selene for support.
After a brief pause, Rhaegar spoke seriously: "The Three Daughters are coveting the Stepstones. If war breaks out, they will certainly turn it into the main battlefield, blocking our forces from advancing beyond."
He ignored any protests and changed the subject: "Since we aim for a swift and decisive victory, the ownership of the Stepstones is not crucial. The key lies in capturing the city-states of the Three Daughters."
"I propose abandoning the defensive garrisons in the Stepstones and sending Daemon to lead the Stormlands' naval fleet in a surprise attack on one of the city-states."
"Lord Corlys will lead the fleets of House Velaryon, Celtigar, and Gulltown, splitting forces to cooperate with the remaining dragons in taking another city-state."
A divide-and-conquer strategy would minimize casualties to the greatest extent.
After a moment of thought, Rhaegar gave his orders: "Braavos and Dorne will cause trouble. Sunfyre will defend Gulltown, and Dreamfyre will guard Crab Island. The two dragons will work with our defensive forces to intercept enemy movements in the middle of the Narrow Sea."
He then turned to Aemond, who had been listening intently. "Sheepstealer will remain stationed at Storm's End, keeping an eye on Wyl and the Boneway. You are permitted to take tactical actions but must not engage in direct combat."
Viserys hesitated, surprised. "Are you assigning tasks to Helaena and Aemond as well?"
Rhaegar glanced at the siblings and nodded. "This negotiation showed me how much they've grown. Besides, they both ride excellent, fully grown dragons and can protect themselves."
Apart from the unclaimed Silverwing, Dreamfyre and Sheepstealer were the largest dragons after the true behemoths, capable of turning the tide of a battle.
"Father, leave the Stormlands to me!"
Aemond immediately spoke up, his eyes flashing with the desire for recognition.
Helaena eagerly nodded. "Dreamfyre and I can hold Crab Island and prevent Braavosi raids."
Lord Bartimos was the first to voice his support, smiling. "The defenses in the central Narrow Sea are weak. Two dragons can make a significant difference."
Viserys rubbed his temple in frustration. He glanced at his youngest son, Daeron, who was practically bouncing on his feet with anticipation, and sighed.
He was somewhat reassured about Aegon, who was older and had battlefield experience.
But Helaena and Aemond? He still had reservations.
Helaena was the lesser concern—Crab Island was close to Dragonstone and Driftmark, with Aegon stationed at Gulltown as a frontline defense. She wouldn't be in much danger.
Aemond, however, was likely to face Stepstone pirates or a Dornish incursion, which worried him deeply.
In the end, Rhaegar stepped in to persuade him: "Father, they have grown. They can help ease the burden on us by handling the side fronts."
Near Dragonmont
A sharp cry pierced the air.
Sunfyre raised its head and let out a shriek, its golden scales gleaming under the sunlight. Its broad wings supported its weight as they pressed against the ground, the translucent pink wing membranes shimmering.
A few dozen feet away, Dreamfyre lay crouched low, her pale blue scales resembling the open sky, her silver dorsal plates like scattered clouds.
Beneath the dragon's neck, Helaena gently stroked Dreamfyre's scales, glancing sideways to steal a look behind her.
Rhaegar stood with a gentle smile, holding a single-handed sword in a dark green scabbard.
The hilt was silver-white, with a carved flower bud at the pommel, and a delicately spiraled crossguard.
With the assignments completed, Aemond had already rushed off to Storm's End on Sheepstealer, eager to begin his task.
Now, Rhaegar had come to see Aegon and Helaena off.
Reaching out, he ruffled Helaena's hair and asked with a smile, "Where's your sword?"
Helaena's bright eyes sparkled as she stared at the single-handed sword in his hands. She answered honestly, "It's still stuck in that Lyseni's skull."
"Uh…"
Rhaegar's eyelid twitched, momentarily speechless at the unexpected reply.
Handing her the sword, he said seriously, "Do you remember? This was my gift to you when you mastered swordplay."
"Thank you, brother."
Helaena beamed with delight, reaching out her small hands to grab the sword without hesitation.
Shing—
A flash of cold light gleamed as she unsheathed the sword, revealing a two-finger-wide silver blade.
The crossguard was adorned with tiny carved petals, resembling fine dragon scales at a glance.
The sword was straight and slender, its surface rippling with Valyrian steel's signature wave-like pattern.
There was no doubt—it was a Valyrian steel blade.
Rhaegar smiled. "This sword was forged alongside Truefire and Light of the Realm. You should give it a name."
These three swords were his prized creations, crafted from the remains of Brightroar and Truth.
Helaena's eyes sparkled even more at his words. A flicker of mischief crossed her face as she said, "I'll name it Long Summer."
Rhaegar was known as the Midsummer Prince, and he had already been knighted.
Her sword, named Long Summer, would be a perfect match for her brother's title.
Rhaegar's brows furrowed briefly before relaxing. He nodded. "In Old Valyria, the most fertile lands were called the Long Summer. It's a good name."
Helaena treasured the sword, swinging it a few times before sheathing it and tying it at her waist.
She was thirteen now, nearly 160 centimeters tall, more than capable of wielding a single-handed sword.
"Brother, I'm leaving now."
Helaena hesitated for a moment before hugging Rhaegar tightly, then turned to grip Dreamfyre's scales as she climbed the soft ladder.
"Be careful in all things. If trouble arises, let Aegon handle it."
Rhaegar adjusted her green cloak, securing it before watching her mount her dragon.
Shriek!
Dreamfyre and Sunfyre roared in unison, their wings beating as they carried their riders into the sky above Dragonstone.
Rhaegar clasped his hands behind his back, watching the dragons disappear into the horizon.
"Prince, they have arrived."
Tormund approached in his black-and-white robes, speaking calmly. Behind him stood a dozen young men and women, all with silver hair and violet eyes.
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