Rhaegar's eyes flickered. The old melancholy settled over him like a familiar coat.
"It's been a long time, Daeron."
He had been getting headaches every time someone mentioned his younger brother since he lost the Stepstones. The feeling never got any easier.
Daeron didn't waste time on small talk. He picked a seat and dropped into it like he owned the room.
Valarr stood beside Rhaegar, ready to speak, but Daeron cut him off before he could start.
"Sit."
He said it first.
Tywin moved to the king's left without hesitation. Davos tried for the right side, but Tyrion slid into the chair ahead of him.
"Thanks, my lord," Tyrion said with a bright smile.
Davos ground his teeth. He wanted to drag the dwarf out by the collar and punch that smug face twice. Instead he took the next seat over and kept his mouth shut.
The Small Council members sat. The great lords stood with the Lysene governors since there weren't enough chairs.
Eddard Stark kept glancing at Rhaegar like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the moment.
Fredo Rogare tried to smooth things over. "Your Grace, thank you for traveling so far. We value the Iron Throne's friendship."
Tywin's voice was ice. "This isn't a friendly visit. The king is here to accept Lys's surrender on behalf of the Seven Kingdoms."
Fredo faltered and looked at Rhaegar and Valarr.
Since Rhaegar's return, power in Lys had shifted. Rhaegar held the title of Prince, Valarr acted as the senior governor, and the two of them sat nearly equal. The rest of the governors were only there to watch.
Daeron noticed the setup immediately. Lys wasn't as ready to roll over as they had claimed in their letters. This was going to take more than words.
He leaned back. If they wanted to drag this out, he had other ways to make his point.
Tyrion spoke first, all smiles. "Lord Rogare, your letters were very clear. Lys wants peace. You're ready to bend the knee and return to the dragon's protection. Isn't that right?"
Valarr's jaw tightened. "Lys has no desire for more war. We want to resolve our differences peacefully with the Iron Throne."
Tyrion didn't let him finish. "No. Lys can't stand against the Iron Throne's anger anymore. You don't want to end up like Tyrosh and Myr. So you're choosing to submit. Voluntarily."
He said the last three words slowly and clearly.
Valarr's face darkened. The dwarf was ripping away every polite layer they had tried to keep in place.
Tyrion kept going. "If Lys wants to avoid fire, it would be wise to keep its promises. Our king is young. He doesn't have the best temper. When he gets angry, people tend to die."
Daeron turned his head and gave Tyrion a flat look.
Tyrion sat up straight and stared straight ahead like he hadn't said a word.
Daeron let out a short, cold laugh and let it go for now.
The other Lysene governors glanced at each other. They had all heard the stories about what happened at Tyrosh and Myr. None of them wanted to test whether the rumors were true.
Valarr tried to push back. "Lys is a civilized Free City, not some backward kingdom on the other side of the sea. We value peace and freedom, not blood and conquest."
Tyrion answered without missing a beat. "Then explain the slaves. The Seven Kingdoms ended slavery a long time ago. How many citizens to slaves do you have here? One to three? One to five?"
Eddard and the other lords stared at Tyrion like he had grown a second head. The little man had a vicious way with words.
Daeron almost smiled. He liked how Tyrion fought with his mouth.
Valarr had nothing to say.
Rhaegar finally spoke, calm and even. "Lys will submit to the Iron Throne the same way Dorne did. But we keep the title of Prince."
It was the same arrangement Doran had wanted. A title that sounded independent while still being a vassal.
Daeron nodded once. "Of course."
He could always adjust the details later. Once Lys was inside the fold, the power to change things stayed with him.
Valarr tried again. "After submission, the Iron Throne must respect Lys's traditions. Keep the governor system. Keep slavery. Do not interfere in our internal affairs."
Daeron didn't even pretend to consider it. "I don't care about the governors. But slavery ends. Lys follows the laws of the Seven Kingdoms."
Valarr's voice rose. "Our entire economy runs on slaves. If we free them, Lys collapses. Every governor here would be ruined or torn apart by the people below them."
Tyrion leaned toward Daeron and muttered, "He's not wrong, Your Grace."
Daeron didn't blink. "This isn't a discussion. Lys ends slavery. The Iron Throne will help rebuild afterward."
Valarr looked like he wanted to argue more, but Tywin cut in before he could.
"Once Lys swears to the Iron Throne, it follows Iron Throne law. If there are problems, we solve them. We don't listen to excuses."
Valarr's face twisted. "And how exactly does the Iron Throne plan to help?"
Tywin answered without hesitation. "Besides the Prince of Lys and the governors, the Iron Throne will appoint a Lord Steward to live in Lys. He will assist the prince and carry out the crown's orders."
Valarr understood immediately. It was a Hand of the King planted right in their city. A watcher and a check on every governor.
He shook his head. "We refuse."
Tywin's eyes narrowed. "You're refusing the Iron Throne?"
Valarr gave a short, bitter laugh. "Lys belongs to the Lysene. Not to anyone else."
Steel whispered behind Daeron as the Kingsguard drew their swords. The great lords shifted, hands moving to their weapons. On the Lysene side, armed guards stepped forward from the walls.
The room went tense fast.
Rhaegar frowned. Even he hadn't expected things to turn this sharp this quickly.
Daeron tapped two fingers on the table. The sound cut through the noise.
Everyone looked at him.
Valarr's voice was tight. "Can't we find common ground?"
Daeron didn't answer. He looked out the window instead.
A piercing roar split the air outside. The whole tower shook. One of the taller spires cracked and toppled. Through the gap, Caraxes's massive red head rose into view, golden eyes fixed on the hall.
Valarr went rigid. Those molten eyes felt like they were staring straight through him. Cold sweat ran down his back.
Caraxes felt his rider's killing intent and let out a low, rumbling growl. Smoke curled from his nostrils. One more signal and the hall would burn.
Daeron spoke quietly. "Do you want to be turned to ash and fed to your own family?"
His voice was calm. The words were not.
Rhaenys's ears burned. She couldn't look away from her uncle. The sheer control he had over everything in the room made something fierce and admiring rise in her chest.
Valarr's arrogance disappeared. He looked around the room. Even the Iron Throne lords had gone pale and stepped back. He was the one standing closest to the dragon.
"Enough," Tywin said sharply. "Put your weapons away."
The Kingsguard sheathed their swords. The lords breathed again.
Daeron kept his eyes on Valarr for another second, then looked past him at Rhaegar, who still hadn't said much.
"We don't have time to waste," Daeron said.
Rhaegar spoke before Valarr could. "Lys accepts the Iron Throne's terms. But we expect reasonable treatment in return."
Daeron stood up. "Done."
He turned and walked out without waiting for anyone else to speak.
The message was clear. The negotiation was over. Lys had submitted.
Valarr's face cycled through several ugly colors.
Tregar Ormollen grabbed his arm. "Stop. You heard what they said. The king gets angry and people die. Do you want to test that?"
He jerked his chin toward the red dragon still watching them through the broken wall.
Valarr swallowed hard and stayed quiet.
Outside the tower, Jaehaerys spoke low. "Should we have Varys handle the rest of this?"
Daeron shook his head. "Not yet. Let them stew. Once the dust settles, we'll tighten the leash."
He glanced back at the Governor's Tower one last time.
"Get ready," he told Jaehaerys. "Once Lys is settled, I'm naming you Prince of Myr and Viserys Prince of Tyrosh. Both of you are going to have your hands full."