Corlys suddenly spoke. "Are we to gain nothing but empty honors?"
Eluna cast a glance at the famed "Sea Snake."
"After the war, the island of Tyrosh shall be yours. It is a Free City with a population of more than four hundred thousand."
Corlys pondered for a moment, then gave a nod.
She turned to Rhaenyra. "Princess, we Valyrians are your kin as well."
"If you are willing to join us, the future empire shall be ruled jointly by House Targaryen and the Valyrian nobility."
"Even should you refuse to join, we may form an alliance, crush the Triarchy, and divide its lands between us."
She spoke in earnest. "In return, Volantis will dispatch twenty thousand elite infantry and one hundred warships, and lend its full strength to your war in Westeros."
Rhaenyra was plainly shaken.
At present, what the Blacks lacked most was an army upon land.
Eluna smiled and clapped her hands lightly.
"We have another gift to mark this meeting."
The hidden door opened once more. Three figures emerged—two men and one woman, all silver-haired and purple-eyed, of striking beauty.
They wore plain Volantene garb, their expressions timid.
The three fell to their knees as one.
"Allow me to present them," Eluna said, her hand resting upon their heads. "Saera, five-and-twenty. Valos, thirty. Miraxes, seven-and-twenty."
"They are all the children of Princess Saera…"
Rhaenyra covered her mouth in astonishment.
Saera—the youngest daughter of the late King Jaehaerys.
A princess famed for her wanton ways, who had fled at last to Volantis and borne a brood of children by fathers unknown…
"They… all of them?" Rhaenyra murmured, staring.
"Yes." Saera lifted her head, tears streaming like a spring. "Princess… we have ever longed to return home…"
"Before our mother died, she told us that the blood of the Dragonlord flows in us as well…"
Valos and Miraxes kept their heads bowed, their shoulders drawn tight.
Daemon crouched before Saera and seized her chin, studying her face. "Aunt Saera… I saw her once when I was but a boy."
After a moment, he released her, his expression cool.
"But in the end, you are baseborn."
The three prostrated themselves upon the floor.
"Though we are baseborn, we are willing to fight for House Targaryen…" Saera sobbed.
"We ask not for the Targaryen name, only to become a cadet branch, as House Baratheon once did…"
Daemon said nothing.
Rhaenyra watched the three kneeling figures in silence. At last, she gave a nod. The three bowed their heads in joy.
Rhaenyra turned to Eluna.
"My lady, the Blacks accept Volantis's proposal of alliance. But there are three conditions." She raised a finger. "First, Volantis must move its forces before all else. We must see your action with our own eyes."
"Second, once the Triarchy is brought low, you must provide us with continued support in both army and fleet."
"Third…"
She looked Eluna straight in the eye.
"As the leader of the Black Wall nobility, I require you to swear by the gods of Valyria that Volantis will never betray the Blacks midway through the war, nor have any contact whatsoever with the Greens."
The stone hall fell into utter silence.
After a long moment, Eluna slowly raised her right hand and began to chant in High Valyrian: "By the fourteen flames, by the blood of Valyria, by the shadow of the dragons that once darkened the sky…"
Her voice echoed through the chamber of stone.
"I swear, Volantis shall stand with House Targaryen until the usurpers are cast down, until the rightful queen sits the Iron Throne. Betrayal shall bring the Doom upon us all."
Thus was the pact sealed.
At the same time, upon the black sands of Dragonstone's eastern shore, five children walked through the chill sea water.
Jacaerys walked at the fore.
The fourteen-year-old boy had lost an eye. The black patch lent his fair features a gloom ill-suited to his years.
Barefoot, he trod through the surf, his grey cloak stirred by the sea wind.
Behind him followed his younger brothers, Lucerys and Joffrey, each half a head shorter than their elder brother, both silent.
Further back came Prince Daemon's twin daughters, both nine years of age. The sisters had inherited the beauty of their father and their mother Laena, yet confusion clouded their faces.
"Jacaerys, where are we going?" Rhaena could not help but ask.
In these past days, the two sisters had spent time with Jacaerys.
Once, little Jace had been bright as the sun. Now he had grown sullen, and ever more frightening.
Even little Luke and little Joff had begun to grow like their elder brother.
Jacaerys did not turn back. "I am taking you to see the bastards."
"Bastards?" The two sisters were puzzled.
They rounded a stretch of jagged rocks, and the view opened before them—a fishing village nestled within the bay. More than a hundred low wooden huts stood built against the reefs, and drying nets lay spread across the rocks like the webs of some giant spider.
Most striking of all were the villagers' features. Some bore silver hair, and their eyes were purple, blue, or pale grey.
At the sight of Jacaerys and the others, the villagers ceased their labors and knelt.
"These people…" Baela's eyes widened. "How are they—"
"They are all of Targaryen blood," Jacaerys said coldly. "Or rather, they once were."
He approached an old fisherman mending his nets.
The old man's white hair still showed faint traces of silver at the roots, and his eyes were a cloudy pale violet.
"My lord." The old man struggled to rise.
"Remain seated." Jacaerys crouched before him so that their eyes were level. "Your name?"
"M—Marthos, my lord."
"Who was your father?"
The old man's lips trembled. "My grandfather was Maegor Targaryen…"
These were the descendants of one of "the Cruel" Maegor's bastards… The children behind him gasped. By name and record, Maegor's line had long since been extinguished.
Jacaerys turned to his siblings. "As the seat of House Targaryen, Dragonstone enjoyed the right of first night for hundreds of years, until the late King Jaehaerys, at the urging of Queen Alysanne, abolished the custom throughout all Westeros."
"But before that—how many infants were born in fishing villages such as this?"
Rhaena's face turned pale. "So they are all—"
"Bastards. Or the descendants of bastards." Jacaerys rose to his feet. "Because they bear dragon's blood, they are not permitted to leave Dragonstone. They are kept under watch by the Dragonstone fleet."
"They till the soil, they wed, they are born and die. So it has been for generations."
He pointed toward the village. "There are four more such settlements upon the island."
"In total, more than a hundred bastards. All with dragon's blood in their veins, yet cast aside to the margins."
"Why have you brought us here, Jacaerys?" Rhaena asked softly.
Jacaerys turned. His remaining brown eye fixed upon her as he pointed toward the kneeling villagers.
"Loyalty. Their loyalty to House Targaryen has never faded. They still take pride in silver hair and purple eyes. They still kneel when they see us."
Lucerys understood. "So you mean to recruit them?"
"I mean to give them a choice," Jacaerys said. "Rather than remain here casting nets… better they take up arms and fight for House Targaryen."
Joffrey spoke timidly. "Brother, but they are smallfolk… they have had no training…"
"Then I shall train them," Jacaerys cut in. "These past years on High Tide and Dragonstone, Lord Corlys has taught me naval warfare. Prince Daemon has taught me the sword."
"I know how to turn fishermen into soldiers."
Baela suddenly asked, "They are all bastards… but the dragons? You said they have dragon's blood…"
Jacaerys's single eye sharpened at once. He gave no answer.
Within, he sighed.
At present, the Blacks possessed many great dragons—yet lacked riders.
His, Lucerys's, and Joffrey's dragons were held at King's Landing.
Only his mother Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, and Lady Rhaenys had adult dragons remaining, along with Baela's young dragon Moondancer.
And Rhaena's egg had yet to hatch.
As for the Greens—Aemond had Vhagar and Lothorne; Aegon had Sunfyre; Helaena had Dreamfyre; Daeron had the Blue Queen. It was said that even the youngest pair of twins had hatched companion hatchlings.
A thought suddenly stirred in his heart: what if, among these bastards, one could master a great dragon?
Perhaps… perhaps the blood that ran in these bastards' veins…
Jacaerys looked upon the kneeling silver-haired bastards. In his lone eye, a dark fire began to burn.
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