The corridor outside the chamber was lined with white cloaks and drawn steel.
Alyssa walked ahead of them.
Oldtown's Hightower had offered its upper rooms for the royal household. Thick stone walls. Narrow windows. A heavy oaken door reinforced with iron bands. It was not King's Landing, but it would serve.
Rogar walked at Jaehaerys' right.
Vaelaris walked behind them without a word.
Servants pressed themselves flat against the walls as they passed. One dropped a tray when Vaelaris' gaze met his. The sound of shattered pottery followed them down the corridor.
Vaelaris did not turn.
They reached the chamber.
Two Kingsguard stood ready.
"Inside," Alyssa said.
Rogar stepped forward. "I will remain."
"No."
He met her eyes.
"This concerns the realm."
"This concerns my son."
Jaehaerys spoke before the moment sharpened further. "Wait outside."
Rogar held his gaze, then inclined his head. "As you command, Your Grace."
The door opened.
Alyssa entered first.
Jaehaerys followed.
Vaelaris stepped in last.
The chamber was large but sparsely furnished. A long table. A hearth not yet lit. Two narrow windows overlooking the fields beyond the city.
Through one of them, the black dragon was visible.
Vaelkarax lay beyond the outer walls, vast and still.
Vaelaris' eyes flicked once toward the window before returning to the room.
The door shut.
or a moment, none of them moved.
Jaehaerys set the crown carefully on the table, as if afraid it might shatter.
Vaelaris remained standing.
Alyssa stepped toward him slowly.
Up close, the years were clearer. His shoulders were broader, his face harder, the softness of boyhood long gone. There was salt still caught in his hair. Smoke clung to his clothes.
She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek.
His skin was warm.
"My poor boy," she said, barely above a whisper.
His jaw tightened slightly, but he did not pull away.
Her fingers moved to the scar near his ear, tracing it gently.
"This?"
"A blade."
She swallowed.
"And this?" Her hand hovered near the faint burn marks along his forearm.
"Fire."
Her hand stilled.
"You were thrown into the sea," she said. "We saw the mast break."
"I climbed to cut the sail," he answered. "The wind shifted. The mast split before I reached it."
"And then?"
"The deck broke beneath me. I went under with it."
"Then why did you not swim back?"
"There was no ship left to swim to."
Silence settled again.
"You were alone?" she asked.
"For a time."
"For how long?"
"I cannot say."
Jaehaerys stepped closer. "You remember nothing?"
"I remember the current," Vaelaris said. "It pulled east. Stronger than I thought. I swallowed water. After that… darkness."
"And where did you wake?" Alyssa asked.
He hesitated, just slightly.
"On black sand."
Her hand dropped slowly to her side.
"There were ruins," he said instead. "Stone melted into shapes that should not exist. The air burned to breathe."
Alyssa felt her throat tighten.
"And you survived that."
"Yes."
"How?"
He looked toward the narrow window, toward the distant shape beyond the walls.
"Fire," he said. "Fire did not harm me the way it should have."
That was worse than any wound.
She stepped forward again without thinking and drew him into her.
He stiffened for a heartbeat.
Then he allowed it.
She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing in smoke and salt.
"You were a child," she said. "You were only a child."
Jaehaerys rested his fingers lightly against it.
"You asked about Maegor," he said.
Vaelaris turned his full attention to him.
"He is dead," Jaehaerys continued. "Found on the Iron Throne. Alone."
"By whose hand?" Vaelaris asked.
"No one knows."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the truth."
Jaehaerys met his gaze evenly.
"There were no guards in the room. No witnesses. He was seated on the throne when they found him. The blades had cut him."
Vaelaris' expression did not change.
"He bled on the swords he forged," Jaehaerys said. "Some say the throne rejected him. Others say a hand pushed him onto it."
"And what do you say?" Vaelaris asked.
"That he made many enemies."
"Mother acts as regent," Jaehaerys continued. "Lord Rogar as Hand and Protector of the Realm. The Faith still watches us closely. The realm is not as quiet as it appears."
Vaelaris listened without interruption.
"The Poor Fellows and the Warrior's Sons were broken under Maegor," Jaehaerys said. "But not erased. Some lords grow bold again."
"And you?" Vaelaris asked.
"I am not my father," Jaehaerys said.
Nor my uncle
"You intend to remain na, brother?" Jaehaerys asked.
"For now."
"For now ??" Jaehaerys repeated.
"You are king," he said. "I am your older brother, you know how it will play"
Jaehaerys held his gaze.
"Then stand with me."
Vaelaris did not answer immediately.
His eyes drifted, not to the door, not to the hearth — but to the window again.
To the black shape beyond the walls.
Alyssa watched the way his shoulders eased when he looked there.
"You feel him," she said quietly.
Vaelaris' gaze returned to her.
"Yes."
"How?"
"He was there with me when i was alone."
Then, instead of answering directly, he moved closer to the window.
The stone beneath his boots did not creak.
"He knows when I am near," Vaelaris said. "And I know when he moves."
His eyes rested on the dragon beyond the walls.
Then he turned back into the room.
"I will remain," he said.
That was all.
A knock sounded at the chamber door.
Firm.
Measured.
Rogar's voice came from beyond the iron-bound wood.
"Your Grace. The city is growing restless."
Jaehaerys rose from his chair and moved toward the door.
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