Dragonstone: The Dragonmont
Four dragons loomed at the entrance to one of Dragonmont's many caves, their fiery eyes glinting in the low light of the volcanic terrain. Beside them stood four figures: three with the unmistakable silver hair of Valyrian blood, and one with brown hair—a stark contrast among them.
Rhaenyra Targaryen stood resolute at Daemon's side, her posture regal yet tense. Nearby, her eldest son, Jacaerys, busied himself with saddling Vermax, while Baela had already mounted Moondancer, waiting impatiently. Her sister's fleet had set sail that morning, bound for King's Landing, while Jace and Luke's ships lingered to defend Dragonstone.
Baela glanced at her father and aunt but found her attention wandering to her peculiar entourage. Her brother had sent two unusual figures to guard her and her sister. Hers was Mara Xho, a tall, fierce woman from the Summer Isles known for her deadly precision with a bow and spear—and for leaving a trail of seduced men in her wake. Mara had already become infamous within the castle for her brazen exploits, having bedded most men who weren't married—and some who were. The only exceptions were Ogo, her sister's silent guardian, and Baela's cousins.
Ogo was an enigma, a hulking black-skinned man covered in scars and devoid of a tongue, his past as a slave etched into his very being. His weapon of choice—a spiked ball and chain paired with a metal net—was met with derision from knights like Ser Erryk Cargyll. That was, until Ogo used his net to entangle Ser Erryk and drag him across the training yard in a display that silenced all laughter.
Despite his fearsome demeanor, Ogo's loyalty to Rhaena was unquestionable. He moved like a shadow, his presence unnoticed until it was suddenly undeniable. Baela recalled the maids' nervous whispers, calling him the "Silent Shadow," after he startled them by emerging silently from doorways they thought unguarded.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Daemon's commanding voice. "Let us take to the skies," he declared, his tone carrying both authority and pride.
Rhaenyra stepped forward, her voice firm and clear. "We ride to lay my father to rest. From the ashes of the past, I will take my place as the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We fly not for war, but for what is ours by right. By conquest." She glanced at her family, her fiery gaze lingering on each of them. "Aegon the Conqueror rode from this very island to unite the realm. Today, we do the same. My family, my blood, I thank you for standing with me. My husband, my son, my daughter. For fire and blood—let us make haste!"
"For fire and blood," Jace echoed, his voice barely above a whisper as he urged Vermax to the skies.
"For fire and blood," Baela repeated with a smirk, blowing two sharp whistles that sent Moondancer into motion. The dragon's eyes widened, and she leapt into the air with smooth, practiced grace.
Daemon smiled at his daughter's signal before giving his own. Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, responded with a powerful, violent takeoff, asserting his dominance over the younger dragons. While Vermax, Moondancer, and Syrax were elegant and swift, Caraxes exuded raw power, his flight a testament to years of battle and experience.
Open Seas Near King's Landing
On the flagship of the Velaryon fleet, Aegon Targaryen, known as "the Winged," stood at the heart of the deck. His tall figure was unmistakable, his presence commanding as he surveyed the bustling activity around him. Spotting Corlys Velaryon, he strode forward and embraced the Sea Snake in a bear hug.
"Ah, grandfather, the sea does you justice!" Aegon exclaimed with his usual boisterous energy. He turned, spotting Vaemond Velaryon and offering him a similar embrace. "And great uncle! Truly a sight for sore eyes. Where are my uncles? I want them by my side as we sink ships and take heads!"
Corlys chuckled, though his tone held a note of warning. "Calm yourself, boy. There will be no war today. We are here to bury a king and crown a queen. No killing."
"True enough," Vaemond added, though his grin betrayed a hint of anticipation. "But I brought a new axe. I call it Traitor's Bane. Don't make me regret naming it, boy."
Aegon feigned disappointment, shaking his head with exaggerated theatrics. "Grandfather, how could you let this happen?" He smirked, his charm infectious as laughter rippled through the crew.
The prince's expression grew serious as he turned back to Corlys, gripping his shoulders. "They see me, Grandfather—my mother, my uncles. They see us. Justice is behind us, and the realm will remember this day."
Corlys, ever the seasoned sailor and strategist, gave a slow nod. "Then let us give them a show they won't forget."
"Who carries the horn in your fleet?" Corlys asked, his tone curious.
Aegon grinned, his gaze shifting toward the capital. "A Princess of the Summer Isles. Helaena insisted I give her one."
This answer seemed to perplex Corlys. The dragon horns, each unique in sound, were sacred—a call that could summon both dragon and rider. That a Summer Islander would possess one spoke volumes, and Corlys made a mental note to meet this princess who warranted such a gift.
For now, the winds were with them, the sea calm beneath their hulls. The stage was set, and the banners of House Velaryon flew high.