Chapter 43: The Red Queen's Fall, The Seed's Wild Fire, and the Shadow's Second Harvest (Dance of the Dragons: Part 2)
The Dance of the Dragons, once a chilling prophecy whispered in the shadowed halls of Mount Skatus, had erupted across Westeros with a savagery that surpassed even Lyra's and Daenys's most harrowing visions. Aelyx Velaryon, from his eternal seat of power, watched the unfolding self-immolation of House Targaryen with a mixture of cold fascination, profound contempt, and a surgeon's precise eye for opportunity. Each major battle, each fallen dragon, each act of kinslaying was a data point, a lesson in the inherent fragility of overt power and the fatal flaws of mortal ambition.
While Lord Torrhen III Volmark (Aelyx's great-great-great-grandson, a man whose public persona was one of solemn Northern pragmatism and unwavering loyalty to Winterfell) maintained Skagos's facade of remote neutrality, the hidden sanctuary beneath Mount Skatus was a hive of intense activity. Tibbit's network of agents, now operating with extreme caution in a realm consumed by paranoia and suspicion, relayed fragmented but vital intelligence. The twelve Targaryen dragon eggs acquired in the initial heist were a primary focus, nestled in the warmest, most magically attuned hatcheries, their incubation overseen by Aenar and teams of specialized house-elves. Aelyx awaited their hatching with keen anticipation, eager to see what unique traits these stolen southern bloodlines might bring to his Skagosi dragon legions.
The war in the south escalated with terrifying speed. The Battle of Rook's Rest became a grim milestone. Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, "The Queen Who Never Was," mounted on her magnificent red dragon Meleys, courageously engaged King Aegon II on Sunfyre the Golden and his brother Prince Aemond One-Eye astride the colossal Vhagar. It was a battle of two against one, a desperate gamble by the Blacks. Rhaenys and Meleys fought with unparalleled fury, grievously wounding Aegon II and severely burning Sunfyre, but against the combined might of Vhagar and the recovering Sunfyre, their fate was sealed. Meleys was torn from the sky, Rhaenys perishing with her beloved dragon.
"A valiant fool," Aelyx commented, as the news reached him. He stood before his assembled immortal children in the Obsidian Council Chamber, a magically projected illusion of the battle's aftermath flickering before them – smoke, ruin, and the broken form of the Red Queen. "She fought bravely, yes, but with predictable Valyrian arrogance, believing one dragon, however swift, could overcome two, one of which was Vhagar. Her death is a significant blow to Rhaenyra's cause. Aegon is crippled, perhaps for good, but Aemond and Vhagar remain, a singular engine of destruction for the Greens."
The war then shifted to the seas and the vital supply lines of King's Landing. The Battle of the Gullet was another disaster for the Blacks. Despite the cunning of Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, his mighty fleet suffered immense losses at the hands of the Triarchy's warships, who had allied with the Greens. Rhaenyra's eldest son and heir, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, a brave and capable young man, perished with his dragon Vermax, consumed by enemy fire or drowned in the churning waters. His younger brother, Prince Viserys (the future Viserys II), was captured, spirited away on a Lysene trading cog, his fate unknown for years.
"Two heirs lost to Rhaenyra in quick succession," Aelyx noted, his violet eyes narrowed in thought. "Her position weakens with each passing moon. Her desperation will grow. And desperation, my children, often breeds opportunity for those who are patient and observant."
The opportunity Aelyx foresaw arose from that very desperation. With her dragonriders dwindling and the Greens still possessing formidable aerial power, Rhaenyra, now Queen on Dragonstone, made a fateful proclamation: any man or woman, highborn or low, who could claim and master one of the riderless dragons of Dragonstone – bonded or wild – would be granted lands, titles, and riches. This was the "Sowing of the Seeds," or, as some would later call it, the "Red Sowing" for the blood that was spilled as commoners and bastards of Targaryen or Valyrian descent (the "dragonseeds") vied for the ultimate prize.
Dragons like Silverwing (Queen Alysanne's former mount, now riderless after the death of her last rider), Vermithor (King Jaehaerys's Bronze Fury, also riderless), Seasmoke (Laenor Velaryon's pale grey dragon), and the wild dragons Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and the dreaded Cannibal, became the focus of this dangerous lottery. Many tried; many were burned, eaten, or torn apart. But a few succeeded: Hugh Hammer, a blacksmith's bastard, claimed Vermithor. Ulf the White, a common man-at-arms, mastered Silverwing. Addam of Hull, a boy of disputed Velaryon parentage, bonded with Seasmoke. And a strange, dark-haired girl named Nettles, with cunning and patience, tamed the wild and dangerous Sheepstealer. These new dragonriders, unpredictable and driven by their newfound power, bolstered Rhaenyra's forces significantly, though their loyalty was yet to be truly tested.
Aelyx observed the Sowing of the Seeds with a mixture of contempt and strategic interest. "She throws open the gates of her ancestral power to baseborn unknowns, to hedge knights and common sellswords," he scoffed. "It is a sign of her crumbling authority, her willingness to dilute the sanctity of dragonriding for immediate gain. Old Valyria would have shuddered at such a debasement. However," his eyes glinted, "it also means Dragonstone is in turmoil. Security will be lax in places, its focus on these new, volatile riders and their beasts. The wilder parts of the Dragonmont, where nests might still lie hidden or poorly guarded during this chaos… this might be our second chance."
He had not been idle since the first egg heist. The twelve Targaryen eggs rested safely in the Skagosi hatcheries, but Aelyx knew the value of diverse bloodlines. The dragons of the Dragonpit in King's Landing remained an alluring, if exceedingly dangerous, target. But with Dragonstone in such upheaval, a more surgical, perhaps less ambitious but still valuable, second acquisition might be possible there.
"Aenar, Rhaenys," Aelyx summoned his son and daughter once more. "Prepare the Nightwing. The Sowing on Dragonstone creates a unique window. While Rhaenyra's attention is divided, while her new dragonseeds squabble and test their mounts, there may be nests of younger, riderless she-dragons, or even wild ones, that are temporarily neglected. Our target is not quantity this time, but specific, unique bloodlines if they can be identified. Lyra and Daenys will guide you to areas of least resistance and highest potential."
The second expedition was even more perilous than the first. Dragonstone was now a hive of newly empowered, often unstable dragonriders. The skies were rarely empty. But Aelyx's team, honed by their previous success and guided by incredibly precise greensight, moved with even greater stealth. Tibbit's house-elves, masters of silent apparition, focused on remote, almost inaccessible crags of the Dragonmont where lesser-known wild dragons were rumored to lair. They avoided the lairs of Vermithor, Silverwing, and Seasmoke, now claimed by dangerous new masters. They sought out the smaller, forgotten nests.
Their efforts yielded a modest but precious haul: three more eggs. One was a mottled green and brown, found in a high, windswept eyrie belonging to a reclusive wild green she-dragon. Another was a pale, almost translucent blue, discovered deep within a steaming lava tube where a shy, seldom-seen dragoness was known to dwell. The third was a striking egg of deepest indigo with silver flecks, taken from a clutch laid by a young, unbonded dragon whose previous rider had perished early in the Dance. Three eggs. Not the dozen of before, but each one a unique genetic treasure, saved from the impending inferno.
While this covert operation unfolded, the tide of the war in the south took a dramatic turn. Prince Daemon Targaryen, ever the master strategist, conceived a daring plan to take King's Landing. While the main Green armies were occupied in the Riverlands, Daemon, with Caraxes, and Rhaenyra, on Syrax, led a swift aerial assault on the capital. The city gates were opened from within by supporters of the blacks (or those simply terrified of dragonfire), and King's Landing fell to Rhaenyra with surprising ease. King Aegon II, already grievously injured, was smuggled out of the city by his loyalists. Queen Alicent, Ser Otto Hightower, and other Green leaders became Rhaenyra's prisoners. Rhaenyra Targaryen, at last, sat the Iron Throne, though its barbs were already proving sharp.
Aelyx received news of King's Landing's fall just as the Nightwing returned to Skagos with its precious cargo. "Rhaenyra holds the capital," he announced to his council. "A significant victory. But her grip is tenuous. The city is restless, her treasury depleted by Otto Hightower, and her enemies – Aemond with Vhagar, Daeron with Tessarion, and the armies of the Westerlands and the Reach – are still at large. This is a precarious perch, not a secure throne."
He now saw a new, fleeting opportunity, one far riskier than Dragonstone. The Dragonpit. With the city in chaos following its capture, with Rhaenyra focused on consolidating her rule and hunting for the escaped Aegon II, the security around the Dragonpit, which housed many of the Greens' remaining dragons (and potentially those of neutral or captured lords), might be temporarily compromised. It was a long shot, a viper's nest, but the potential reward…
"Aenar," Aelyx said, his voice thoughtful. "The Dragonpit. It houses Dreamfyre, Helaena Targaryen's mount, known to be a prolific layer. Sunfyre, Aegon's golden beast, was last seen grievously wounded there. Tessarion, Daeron's Blue Queen, may also have laired there if Daeron was in the city. Are there eggs, Aenar? Can your team make one, swift, almost invisible incursion while Rhaenyra's attention is elsewhere?"
Aenar, ever cautious, considered this. "The risks are extreme, Father. The Dragonpit is in the heart of the city, now Rhaenyra's seat of power. But the chaos of transition… it might provide a brief window. If there are eggs, and if Dreamfyre or other she-dragons are not actively brooding or are distracted by the turmoil… it is… conceivable. But it would require unparalleled stealth and speed."
Aelyx nodded. "A small team. House-elves only, led by Tibbit. Their apparation is our greatest asset. No Volmark blood will go. The risk of capture is too high. Their mission: reconnaissance first. If viable, acquisition. If not, immediate withdrawal. The potential gain must be weighed against the catastrophic consequences of discovery."
Tibbit and a dozen of his most skilled house-elves, equipped with every charm of silence, invisibility, and magical detection Aelyx could devise, undertook this most perilous mission. They apparated in stages, under cover of deepest night, into the very heart of a war-torn, paranoid King's Landing. They found the Dragonpit in a state of controlled chaos, Rhaenyra's guards still securing its perimeter, its keepers terrified and uncertain of their fate.
The reports Tibbit sent back to Aelyx via magical messenger were tense. Dreamfyre was indeed present, restless and mournful for her captive rider, Queen Helaena. And in her section of the vast, gloomy structure, Tibbit's elves found what they sought: a clutch of three eggs, pale blue speckled with silver. Nearby, in a hastily secured pen, lay the broken, smoldering form of Sunfyre the Golden, barely alive, but beside him, miraculously unharmed, were two more eggs, their shells the color of beaten gold. Five eggs. An unbelievable prize.
Working with breathtaking speed and silence, the house-elves, shielded by their innate magic, retrieved the five eggs, replacing them with perfectly transfigured, heated stones to delay discovery. Within an hour of their arrival, they had apparated out of King's Landing, their precious cargo secured, leaving no trace of their passage.
When Tibbit laid the five eggs before Aelyx in the Skagosi sanctuary, the Shadow King felt a surge of triumph so profound it was almost unsettling. Seventeen Targaryen dragon eggs in total, rescued from the inferno of their kin's madness. These, added to his own burgeoning Skagosi dragon lines, would create a diversity and strength of draconic power unparalleled since the fall of Valyria itself.
"You have exceeded all expectations, Tibbit," Aelyx said, his voice holding a rare warmth. "You and your kin are the true treasures of House Volmark."
As Rhaenyra Targaryen began her brief, troubled reign in King's Landing, a reign that would soon be marked by paranoia, betrayal, and the city's eventual, bloody riot against her, Aelyx Velaryon turned his attention to the new arrivals in his hatcheries. The Targaryen civil war was far from over. Great battles were yet to be fought, more dragons to fall, more blood to be spilled. But Aelyx had played his hand during the chaos of its middle passage, securing a future for these lost Valyrian bloodlines under his own eternal, watchful protection. The Dance of the Dragons would continue to consume itself, but on Skagos, new fires were being kindled, fires that would burn brighter, and longer, in the hidden dawn of a new dragon age.