Daeron's call to arms hit the Crownlands like wildfire. Five years of peace had left every lord hungry for glory, and the news that Tyrosh had crowned a fake Dragon King was the spark they needed.
"Only one Dragonlord house exists," Lord Whent declared at Harrenhal, already mustering his banners. "Targaryen. Anyone else is an insult to the Iron Throne."
In the Twins, old Walder Frey groped his latest wife and barked orders. "Take more men, Stevron. The crown won't forgive a fake. Neither will I."
Stevron Frey, now Master of the Green Fork, saluted in shining armor. "Three hundred archers and eight hundred foot, Father."
"Good. Bring back something worth the trouble."
Across the royal domain, lords and knights poured toward King's Landing—armed, armored, and eager. The Dragon King had been quiet for five years. Now the sleeping dragon was waking, and every man wanted to ride the flames.
---
That night Daeron lay in the farmhouse bed with Shaena curled against him, her skin still flushed, a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. The sheets were a mess. So were they.
He drifted off smiling.
In the dream, white mist swirled and a Junimo bounced toward him—green apple body, stick-figure limbs waving wildly.
Help us! The magic tide is growing. We're multiplying, but two powers are blocking us from expanding. We need new land.
Daeron crossed his arms. "What do I get?"
The Junimo drew a circle in the air. Revive one dragon egg. And if you help us find a faithless place to settle, we'll search for another egg to replace it.
He bargained hard. Two eggs.
The Junimo shook its head. One egg was their limit. But they would hunt for a fresh one afterward.
Daeron's mind raced. The Stepstones. They wanted the Stepstones.
"Deal."
The mist swallowed him. Sleep pulled him under.
At 2 a.m. the panel flashed.
[Your partner asks in her sleep: Do you want a child?]
[Yes] [Not yet]
Daeron answered without waking.
Yes.
---
Morning light poured through the farmhouse windows. Daeron woke at six sharp, Shaena still breathing softly beside him. He watched her for a long moment, heart thudding with something dangerously close to hope.
The farmhouse really was magic.
He dressed quietly, checked the crops, gathered eggs and milk, then flew Caraxes toward King's Landing.
---
Hand's Tower.
Tywin Lannister stared at his brother Tygett like he wanted to strangle him. "You look like death. I told you to stay out of brothels."
Tygett flushed and left without a word. The sexual disease he'd picked up should have killed him years ago, but yellow sapphires and the Yi Ti healer had kept him breathing. Barely.
Tywin turned to his son. "Summon Kevan. Fifty Lionheart Knights and three thousand Redcloaks. House Lannister will lead this war."
Kevan nodded. "Cersei and Tyrion are almost here."
"Leave them. We have bigger problems."
---
Tars Island. Ginger Island.
Caraxes and Toothless devoured roasted sheep and deep-sea fish while Daeron watched. The red dragon was massive now—adult, dangerous, and bloodthirsty. Toothless had grown into a twenty-five-meter nightmare of black scales and twisted horns, every inch the wild dragon he'd been hatched from.
"Still ugly as sin," Daeron muttered fondly.
A raven arrived from Bloodstone. Harry Uller, the Dornish knight left in command, had spotted sails bearing the three-headed dragon.
Daeron smiled coldly.
"Time to remind everyone who the real Dragon King is."
He mounted Caraxes. The royal fleet was still days away in the Narrow Sea, but he didn't need them yet.
Bloodstone was about to burn.
---
Bloodstone Island.
Harry Uller paced the rocky shore, whip in hand, taking his frustration out on the Dornish spearmen who'd been abandoned here while Rhaegar chased glory in Lys.
"Martells are cowards," he spat. "Doran's a spineless—"
A flash of red on the horizon stopped him cold.
Masts. Sails. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.
"Enemy fleet!" he roared. "To arms!"
Then the sky screamed.
Hiss-graa—!
Caraxes dove like a crimson spear. Dragonfire erupted in a roaring line straight through the Dornish camp. Men exploded into ash and screams. Harry Uller caught the full force of the blast wave, flew backward, and blacked out before he hit the ground.
Bloodstone had fallen before the royal fleet even arrived.