Nineteen days had passed since the grand feast at Highgarden. During this time, Draezell and Jacaerys first met with Lord Loras in secret, solidifying the trade agreement previously arranged with Harwin Tyrell. Afterward, Draezell shared drinks with Thaddeus Rowan, received numerous Reach lords, and finalized another trade agreement with the Redwynes of the Arbor. Unfortunately, no suitable marriage candidates for Valar were found among the Reach families.
Ser Ormund later arrived with news from the Citadel. The Conclave, wary of angering Draezell and his dragons, reluctantly recognized the maester status of the seven scholars under Maester Visari, including Evens, and granted them their chains. This was the Citadel's greatest concession—made only because Draezell refrained from scorching Oldtown with dragonfire.
After leaving Highgarden, Draezell and Jacaerys flew to Casterly Rock, staying only a day in the grand port city. This was not due to a lack of hospitality from the Lannisters. Quite the opposite—they were overly accommodating. Lord Jason even proposed that both his daughters disrobe publicly to prove their virginity to Draezell, prompting the latter to make a swift exit after dinner. On fhe way to Raventree, Vermithor grumbled about leaving without eating his fill.
To be fair, the roasted meats at Casterly Rock were inferior to those at Highgarden, and the wine lacked the sweetness of the Arbor's finest. However, the fresh seafood was a welcome change, as were the plethora of singers and dwarven jesters. Jason even arranged for his prized lions and hyenas to fight in the feast hall for entertainment. Draezell, unimpressed by such displays, made his exit after diplomatically securing a deal: Jason agreed to reduce tolls on Velaryon ships entering Lannisport by 20% and promised to use high-purity gold for future transactions.
All in all, not a bad outcome.
---
Raventree Hall.
This ancient castle nestled in the verdant Blackwood Vale featured moss-covered walls and two massive square towers flanking its gates. At each corner of the walls stood a square watchtower. Inside, there was a muddy courtyard, a cavernous wooden keep, and a godswood dominated by a towering weirwood at its center.
The weirwood, once alive with sprawling branches sheltering the entire castle, was now dead. Its leafless branches stretched like skeletal fingers, and the face carved into its bark no longer wept sap. For thousands of years, flocks of ravens had nested in its branches each night beneath the rising moon, giving the castle its name.
House Blackwood, the castle's rulers, claimed an ancestry tracing back to the Age of Heroes. According to their lore, their forebears once reigned as kings in the Wolfswood of the North before being driven south to this riverland stronghold by the Kings of Winter. Despite their fall, the Blackwoods retained their pride and continued to worship the Old Gods, making them the only Riverlands house to maintain this faith.
At one time, the Blackwoods had worn crowns, but their reign ended in betrayal by House Bracken. This treachery sparked a blood feud that had raged for thousands of years. Even now, the rivalry persisted, though their shared bloodlines had long since intertwined.
A single long arrow pierced cleanly through a stag's eye, embedding itself deep in its brain without so much as scratching its hide. The forest king let out a faint whimper before collapsing with a heavy thud, its muscular legs twitching reflexively until it finally lay still. A lean young man, silent and efficient, joined a few soldiers in securing ropes around the stag's antlers and began dragging it back toward the castle.
"Red Robb, that's a rare sight," joked a grizzled Raventree Hall soldier with a thick beard as he hauled on the rope. "It's been years since I saw you take a hunt yourself. That hide's bound to be flawless."
"This stag is for the prince and the prince's dragon," said Robb Rivers evenly. "And when you see the dragon, be mindful not to anger it."
"Dragon?" The older man's eyes widened. "You're telling me all that commotion today was from a dragon?"
Robb nodded. "Prince Draezell and Prince Jacaerys have arrived. The Lord, the young master, and the young lady have all gone to greet them."
"And you?"
"I'm just a bastard." Robb's tone remained calm, almost detached. "Even though Lord Samwell recognizes my skill, I have no place at the table with princes."
"But…" The older soldier began, only to stop under Robb's warning glare. He changed tack with a sheepish grin. "You're the best archer in the Riverlands, though."
Robb shook his head in resignation. That much was true, but it hardly mattered—not with a surname like "Rivers" instead of "Blackwood."
The group soon returned to the castle, dragging the stag along.
Raventree Hall was not large enough to accommodate two dragons, so Lord Samwell Blackwood had prepared a camp outside the castle to host Draezell and Jacaerys.
---
Thwack.
An arrow struck dead center on the target. A tall, lean girl narrowed her eyes at the result, then finally lowered the weirwood bow in her hands. Her black curls fell to her waist, framing a face not traditionally pretty but brimming with determination and spirit.
Draezell clapped politely, though Lord Samwell frowned in disapproval. Yet, with the prince present, he held his tongue.
"My prince, my sister… sigh," Lord Samwell muttered. "She's just not ladylike enough."
"Which is why you're a lord who can't defeat that fop from House Bracken, while the prince here rides dragons to burn through Dorne," the girl shot back indignantly, clLordy overhearing.
"This has never been an issue, Lord Samwell," Draezell interjected smoothly, anticipating the lord's unspoken concerns. "Alysanne has the heart of a warrior. It's a shame she's still so young."
Lord Samwell understood the subtext—a polite rejection. In truth, he had expected as much when he put forth Alysanne's name. The Iron Throne sought to marry Draezell and Valar off quickly to secure alliances, ensuring Dorne could not exploit the kingdom's vulnerabilities. Younger girls like Alysanne were merely included to fill the ranks of candidates. Still, the prince's tact left a favorable impression on Samwell.
Nearby, Jacaerys was entertaining a boy of four or five, holding a candy in one hand and asking the child to guess which hand it was in.
"I never thought Prince Jacaerys would be so approachable," Samwell mused, shifting the topic. "It seems little Benjicot likes him a lot."
"Good children are always lovable. Ah, it looks like Vermax's meal has arrived," Draezell said, glancing up to see Robb Rivers and his companions dragging the stag into the camp.
Robb noticed Draezell's gaze and instinctively hesitated, as if ready to retreat.
"Is this your brother, my lord?" Draezell called out, stopping him. "The famed Red Robb of the Trident."
Lord Samwell quickly summoned his half-brother. "Don't just stand there—come here."
Robb hesitated before shuffling forward awkwardly. Behind him, the other soldiers carefully brought the stag to where Vermax, one of the dragons, was resting.
The young dragon sniffed the air, glanced at Jacaerys for approval, and, receiving a nod, unleashed a burst of flame that roasted the stag instantly. It then tore into its meal with greedy bites.
"Your Grace, my lord, I…" Robb began nervously, unable to meet their eyes.
Jacaerys approached him with Benjicot in tow, his tone warm and familiar. "So you're Red Robb? I've heard of you—the finest archer in the Riverlands."
"It is an honor, Your Grace."
"It is our honor to meet you as well," Draezell said, rising and placing a firm hand on the young man's shoulder.
Robb, feeling overwhelmed, glanced at the prince before lowering his head.
At that moment, Vermax, who had just finished devouring its fifteenth sheep outside the camp, suddenly raised its head and let out a deafening roar.
Vermax ceased eating as well, turning its gaze skyward in vigilance.
The clouds above parted as a crimson dragon streaked across the heavens like lightning. Within moments, it descended in a powerful dive, circling Raventree Hall twice with piercing roars before landing with a resounding thud amidst answering cries from the other dragons.
"The Red Queen, Meleys?" Draezell recognized the beast instantly. "What brings Princess Rhaenys here?"
The elder princess, her dark hair streaked with silver, exhaled deeply as she sat astride the dragon saddle. Patting Meleys affectionately, she embraced the dragon's neck before dismounting with practiced ease, using the dragon's wing as a ramp.
"I'll go prepare some food for the princess's dragon," Robb Rivers seized the opportunity to make his escape.
"Princess Rhaenys, why have you—?" Draezell began, his tone laced with curiosity.
Jacaerys, ever attentive, moved to support his grandmother, only for her to gently wave him off with a warm smile.
"Prince Draezell, there's been trouble at Dragonstone," Rhaenys began, her expression grave. "Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon are requesting your assistance, along with Prince Valar's."
"Why not just send a raven?" Draezell questioned, his gaze flicking over her dust-covered appearance. "Why go through the trouble of coming here in person?"
"Daemon insisted," Rhaenys replied with a faint smile. "He said that given your cautious nature, you might overthink things. He thought my personal arrival would be more convincing. He's gone to Storm's End himself to speak with Prince Valar."
"What's happened?" Draezell asked, already suspecting that Daemon's assessment wasn't far off the mark.
"A clutch of eggs laid by Syrax has gone missing," Rhaenys explained, her tone serious. "The Dragonkeepers suspect it was the work of a wild dragon called the Cannibal. This is just the latest in a string of incidents involving stolen dragon eggs at Dragonstone." Her fists clenched tightly. "A merchant ship reported seeing the Cannibal attacking Sea Smoke. Although the attack was thwarted by several dragons, it underscores how dangerous this creature is. Prince Daemon hopes to rally all experienced dragonriders to address the threat. Dragon eggs are far too valuable; even losing one would be a catastrophe for us."
Draezell listened in silence, his expression contemplative.
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