'All roads lead to home.'
-Taken from the play 'The Red Prince', performed by the Mummers Guild.
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As night descended upon Dragonstone, hundreds of troops gathered on the east coast, converging from stations all around the island.
Tables were arranged, barrels of wine and mead opened, and the air filled with the aroma of smoked fish and distant spices as cooking fires blazed to life.
The soldiers of the Rhaenari legion shed their armor and shields, embracing the atmosphere of celebration as the great feast began.
Amidst the laughter and camaraderie, a solemn moment occurred.
Around the lifeless body of the Cannibal, they built a pyre, and with a commanding <"Dracarys!">, Sundance ignited the blaze, sharing the warmth of the fire with Syrax and Caraxes.
Standing between her brother and uncle, Rhaenyra watched the flames crackle. She felt the chill of the night air. At Rhaenar's gesture, a soldier brought her a large fur blanket, and she gratefully accepted it.
For a time, the three of them stood in silence. The flickering fire cast pranced shadows across their faces.
Rhaenyra observed the depth of thought in her brother's stance. Arms crossed, brow stern.
"A dragon in chains, a sight I hoped never to see again," Rhaenar said.
The sorrow in his words stirred a protective instinct within Rhaenyra, but she held back, merely wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Then she said, "Are you finally done with all this bother?"
Rhaenar nodded. "Yes, I believe I've had my fill of bloodshed for a lifetime."
She rolled her eyes, "You're such an idiot."
He chuckled. "So I've been told."
"Don't give me that!" Rhaenyra could feel her blood boil, "You could have been killed!"
"The possibility did cross my mind," Rhaenar acknowledged. He knew this conversation would happen the moment his sister arrived. "I took every precaution to ensure my safety. Many brave men perished in the process of mapping out the Dragonmont, its tunnels, and lairs.
"Fortunately, Vermithor and Silverwing seemed to cooperate with us, almost as if they sensed our intentions.
"The wild dragons were another matter. Sheepstealer, as the smallfolk named it, regarded our presence with mild indifference, so long as we kept our distance. And as for Grey Ghost, well, the name is quite fitting. Elusive as ever, but we managed to locate its lair all the same."
Rhaenar exhaled deeply before saying, "It's a nasty business, dragon-slaying. It's not like how they make it sound in the songs, valiant knights in shining armor taking up the sword, slay the beast and save the princess. The act itself is a lot more cruel.
"After we mapped the Dragonmont, we collapsed the tunnels leading to the Cannibal's lair. Then it was a waiting game. I shudder to think how many hatchlings he ate before the hunger became too much. A blood-curdling sound, a starving dragon.
"Every day, I flew over Dragonstone, waiting for it to dig itself out. Dragon's evolved from Firewyms, if Septon Barth is to be believed, so they are no stranger to burrowing. We were fortunate he got out during the day, or precious time would have been wasted before I took to the skies.
"We were also fortunate it was a creature of habit and opted to dig by way of the passageways it knew. We sealed them as much as possible and rigged the rest of the way with countless chains. A feeble attempt to slow him down, I know, but it brought us great comfort.
"But even then, assuming everything went favorably, a starved and burdened dragon is nothing to scoff at. I knew Sundance was no match. His flame not as hot, his size not as large. Even the scales were hardened beyond what I could imagine.
"That's why we scouted religiously and acquired the rough dimensions of the Cannibal's head. I had Theodore run the designs, and we built a life-size replica.
"For countless hours, I toiled with Sundance, simulating how we would attack. That was the most important part; there was no room for error.
"Sundance could do the motion in his sleep now, I have no doubt. It's a terrible shame. I hope eye gouging won't become a habit now he can return."
It was all well and good. But something in Prince Daemon's heart felt uneasy about how his nephew thought so much about the killing of fellow dragon. He raised a brow. "Why not poison?"
"We considered it," said Rhaenar. "But I feared that if our attempt failed, the Cannibal would be so traumatized that he might flee and never return. We couldn't afford any loose ends. Who knows what could have happened if he nested elsewhere? The risk of outsiders discovering a clutch of eggs was one I couldn't take."
Daemon hummed approvingly, "My my, nephew. You have thought this through."
Rhaenyra glared at him, "Don't encourage him, uncle. Poison should have been the first and only option."
Rhaenar couldn't help but find her protectiveness endearing, though he sensed her frustration at being kept in the dark.
'My sister,' he thought, 'Secrets will be the bane of her.'
"I understand your concern," Rhaenar said. "But I was left with no other option. Sundance became consumed by this… obsession. He would lie in wait for the Cannibal to emerge and attempt ambush after ambush. Speed can only carry you so far against overwhelming power. It was only a matter of time before he got too zealous. And if that happened-"
Though Prince Daemon accepted the reasoning, Rhaenyra pouted, "I'm telling Mother."
He didn't know whether to gasp or laugh.
"You most certainly are not!" exclaimed Rhaenar. "This secret stays with us. There will be many tales about what transpired this day, but equally, there will be tales of skepticism. For years to come there will be false report of smallfolk sighting the Cannibal, hearing his roar. May the shadow of his name continue to loom for generations, as long as they leave mine out of it. Promise me, Rhaenyra. Promise me!"
Rhaenyra understood her brother's firm resolve. "Fine, but only if you promise to keep me informed and never, EVER, do something like that again without telling me."
Rhaenar relaxed at her concession. "Done."
Daemon smiled at the familiar banter between his niece and nephew. Some things never change. It made him feel oddly lonely. Then he inquired, "Such secrecy, even after all that effort?"
Rhaenar shrugged, "A matter of principle. I won't have anyone presume to know what happens on Dragonstone. They can keep their fucking snouts out of my business."
Satisfied with their agreement, Rhaenyra was now in good spirits. She giggled, "Our business, brother. And you'll have a hard time doing that once you return home."
The realization hit Rhaenar like a blow, and he felt a wave of dizziness. "Don't remind me! But you're right. I should return and relieve our father from suffering his duties alone. Not to mention our pregnant mother. Though I can't stand it. With so much to do and so little time, the small council can be oh so stagnant."
"Agreed," said Daemon, "Now you see why I'm so often away."
A playful smile touched Rhaenar's lips, "I thought it was because you find Otto to be.., what was it again? 'An insufferable cunt'?"
Daemon chuckled, "Just a cunt, but I'll grant your version the better."
They stood together, content to let the festivities carry on around them. At some point, Rhaenyra asked, "What will you do now?"
"Me?" replied Rhaenar. "Now that I know Sundance won't go and get himself killed, I suppose I can finally start my road. I have 2000 troops on my payroll who do nothing but drills and war games. It's time to put them to good use.
"I aim to connect all the population centers on the continent with a road wide enough for two wagons. It will be quite the undertaking, stretching all the way to The Wall. Hah! I can see it now.
"A lord's worth will be measured by whether their House was great enough to warrant a road to their lands. That's just the kind of dick-measuring they crave. And when it's completed, the commoners will say: 'Behold, that road was built by the Great King Viserys!'"
Rhaenyra didn't like how the plan painted yet another picture of her brother's marked absence. Rhaenar saw the doubt creep on her face.
"It will take time to get approved, of course," he assured her. "Not to mention the logistics of getting everything in place. There's also mother to consider. The time after birth would be better for it if I'm in her sight for a while. Honestly, you all worry too much.
"Speaking of babies... your wife writes me that the one in her belly is a boy, Uncle. She seems to think so, and her maester reports that her body temperature has been at fever levels, which was a concern until it became clear it would stay as regular occurrence, and Rhea had no discomfort. No, it's rather that she is more sprightly than ever. Is that how pregnancy is supposed to work?"
Daemon groaned, "Don't ask me. Better yet, don't remind me. I still can't believe I got my sheep pregnant. I could never be that drunk."
Rhaenar's laughter roared. He wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, Uncle! And here I thought you'd be chuffed for your veracity. Just one off 'mistake' of a night, and a baby is around the corner. I knew the seed of the dragon was strong, but not that strong!"
Rhaenyra felt strangely uneasy from this boy talk. "Oh, grow up, the both of you."
But now the Rhaenar she remembered returned, and it was all tongue and cheek.
"Don't even get me started on you, old hag! How many moments older than me are you again? Whatever it is, it shows! The better question is what will you do, dear sister?"
The question made her flinch. Rhaenar scoffed, "You haven't given it a thought, have you? What you will do with your life."
Silence was the answer.
Rhaenar shook his head, "In that case, you should tour the realm while you can. There's a magic in the countryside that almost matches the magic in your eyes. With luck, you'll find a suitor you can be happy with. Father will doubtless prefer you marry for happiness rather than for political gain, if he could help it. You know how much he loves us.
"Maybe Uncle Daemon could go with you? There's all sorts to lay witness: Vast underground caves that even if you dedicated three days in darkness you would never reach where they led, underground rivers and oceans that flow to gods know where.
"Untouched groves that ooze of mystery. The ruins of ancient days so distant that their original names are lost to time. Ice-kissed mountains and fields of flowers that go as far as the eye can see.
"People big, small, young, old, with stories that tantalize. Witches and warlocks and fiends.
"Fools that will make you laugh until you can't breathe, singers whose voice will make you shed a tear. You could take Alicent and enjoy the host of Oldtown. Go on tour, Rhaenyra. You'll thank me for it."
It did sound appealing. Still..., "Only if you go with me," Rhaenyra said.
"Been there, done that," dismissed Rhaenar. "Though I won't rule it out entirely. I suspect I'll see the realm again as I oversee construction. Maybe I'll join you when your route leads North? I ended my tour early before I ventured there, after all. Then we can both experience new sights together."
Rhaenyra rested her head on his shoulder, "I'd like that."
As the night waned, the festivities around them gradually quieted.
Unconscious troops lay scattered about, while in the distant corners of the camp, echoes of toasts to Rhaenar's name or songs sung around campfires drifted in the air, occasionally met with insults and pleas for silence.
Yet the three Targaryens remained by the pyre, conversing until only smoldering embers remained, the glow replaced by the golden hue of dawn.
As the pyre dwindled and only the Cannibal's bones remained, Prince Rhaenar reached into the ashes, retrieving Blackfyre.
Despite being coated in soot and ash, the Valyrian steel showed no sign of damage from its time in flames.
Rhaenar flicked the sword to his side, and a cloud in its shape dissipated in the coastal breeze.
Taking a moment to stretch, Rhaenar admired the way the morning sun's glow bathed among the wisps of clouds.
"Well then," he said, stifling a yawn. "Shall we?"
"What about the remains?" Daemon asked, concerned.
"The bones will be put in storage," said Rhaenar, "As for the skull, we'll put it somewhere as a reminder to future trouble makers."
With that, Sundance stirred from his slumber, Caraxes emitted his characteristic high-pitched squeal, and Syrax blinked slowly, shaking sand from her neck.
As they took to the skies, their riders, each bearing the silver hair and star-like violet eyes of their lineage, Dragonstone could have been mistaken for Valyria of old.
Such a thought sparked a devilish flame in Daemon's heart, and for that moment the loneliness was gone.