The waves of the Narrow Sea crashed against the new stone walls of Dragonroar, a rhythmic drumbeat to the construction.
Rhaegar stood on the battlements, the wind whipping his silver hair. He looked out at the horizon, feeling the invisible threads of the [Destiny Claim] pulling at him.
One thread led north to King's Landing, thick and strong. That was his birthright.
One thread led east, across the Smoking Sea to the ruins of Valyria. It was a thread of fire and blood, pulsating with ancient power.
And now, a new thread led to the Rhoyne—faint, watery, but undeniable.
Destiny is not given, Rhaegar thought, watching his dragons circle above. It is taken.
He opened his status interface again. The [Destiny Claim] for Westeros was high, but incomplete.
Legitimacy: 85%
Missing: Aegon's Crown, Blackfyre.
Aegon's Crown, a simple circlet of Valyrian steel set with square rubies, had been lost in Dorne when Daeron I, the Young Dragon, was killed under a peace banner.
The Yronwoods, Rhaegar thought, his eyes narrowing. They were there when the Young Dragon fell. If anyone has the crown, it is the Bloodroyal.
He resolved to send his new spies—Garin in Planky Town, Lysandro in Lys, Lord Malacho in Volantis, and Rat in King's Landing—on a hunt for these artifacts. The sword Blackfyre was likely with the Golden Company, but the crown... the crown was close.
That evening, Rhaegar held a feast for his soldiers in the shadow of the rising keep.
Whole oxen roasted on spits over dragon-lit fires. Casks of Summerwine, gifts from Old Garin, were cracked open.
"To the Prince!" Ser Corlys Velaryon shouted, raising his goblet. "To the builder of Dragonroar!"
"To the men!" Rhaegar countered, raising his own cup. "A castle is only as strong as the hearts that defend it."
The soldiers roared. They loved him. He was not just a prince in a silk tent; he was the man who hauled stone with them, who ate their food, who fought their battles.
Late that night, Rhaegar sat with Ser Brynden Tully in the command tent.
"I leave Bloodstone in your hands, Ser Brynden," Rhaegar said. "Keep the walls rising. Keep the patrols sharp."
"You have my word, my Prince," the Blackfish said, his red-gold hair gleaming in the lamplight. "Though I admit, I would rather be riding to Sunspear with you."
"Your time for glory will come," Rhaegar promised. "For now, you are the Guardian of the Gate. Do not let it close."
The next day, the royal fleet sailed for Sunspear.
The arrival was a spectacle designed to awe. The ships of the Royal Fleet filled the harbor, their sails emblazoned with the three-headed dragon.
Prince Aerys led the procession through the Threefold Gate, looking every inch the Targaryen king. He wore black and red velvet, dripping with rubies, and rode a black destrier with a golden mane. Beside him rode Tywin Lannister in crimson armor and Steffon Baratheon in gold.
The Dornish smallfolk lined the winding walls, cheering and throwing flowers. Princess Elia and her children waited on the steps of the Old Palace.
"Where is Prince Rhaegar?" the Ruling Princess asked, scanning the party.
"My son prepares a special entrance," Aerys said with a smirk.
A shadow fell over the city.
ROAAAAR!
The Silver Emperor descended from the sun, his scales blazing like a second star. Balerion and Belaerys flanked him, spiraling down in a dizzying display of aerial acrobatics.
Rhaegar landed the dragon in the plaza before the Tower of the Sun. He slid from the saddle, dressed in his black silk tunic with the silver dragon.
He approached the Princess, carrying a heavy object wrapped in velvet.
"For Dorne," Rhaegar said, bowing low.
He pulled away the cloth.
It was a statue of pure gold, depicting a spear piercing a sun. The symbol of House Martell, rendered in exquisite detail.
The crowd erupted.
"Welcome to Sunspear, Prince Rhaegar!" the Ruling Princess said, her eyes shining.
As Rhaegar ascended the steps, he scanned the faces of the Dornish lords. His gaze landed on Lord Edgar Yronwood.
The Bloodroyal was clapping, but his eyes were cold. And on his finger, Rhaegar noticed a ring—a heavy iron band set with a square ruby.
It looked remarkably like one of the stones from Aegon's lost crown.
Found you, Rhaegar thought, a smile touching his lips. The game is afoot.