Chapter 24: The Council

Dragonstone.

The salty sea breeze swept over the castle's long bridge. Rhaenyra shivered slightly but steadied herself with her handmaid's assistance. Her pregnant form swayed only momentarily as she fixed her gaze toward the direction of Driftmark, where two dark shapes approached swiftly in the distance.

"Princess, the wind is too strong out here. Shouldn't you…" the handmaid asked hesitantly.

Rhaenyra shook her head firmly. "This is not something I can ignore. I will not sit idly by, waiting for Daemon to bring me answers."

In her heart, she thought: This is the duty of a ruler.

Caraxes's fin-like limbs skimmed the choppy waves as he let out a piercing roar. His elongated form soared above the cliffs, landing steadily on the bridge. Meleys, the Red Queen, arrived moments earlier, circling the skies above Dragonstone before descending on the far side of the bridge.

Two dragonriders dismounted smoothly. The disheveled figure of Rhaenys rushed forward, steadying Rhaenyra with a hand.

The older princess cast a reproachful glance at the handmaid, who shrank under her gaze, but Rhaenyra interjected, shaking her head. "It was my decision to wait for them."

Her gaze turned to Daemon, who approached with his head bowed. "Why didn't you inform me of this immediately?"

"You need rest, my love," Daemon replied, rubbing his hands together as if uncertain of his words.

"I'm pregnant, not dying," Rhaenyra said sharply, moving closer to him with Rhaenys and her handmaid supporting her arms. "A new dragonlord family has risen, and we lack the power to eliminate them completely. You know what that means."

"Targaryens are no longer the only dragonlords in the world."

Daemon nodded to the handmaid, taking over from her and supporting Rhaenyra himself.

"And they have Vermithor and Silverwing, two ancient dragons that likely gained unknown powers in the ruins of Valyria," Rhaenyra continued, her gaze steady on Daemon's eyes.

"How do you know that?"

Daemon froze, recalling that the letters he had received made no mention of the Valyrian ruins.

"I read," Rhaenyra replied, rolling her eyes. "Even if Draezell Vaelarys commands some mysterious power, he could not have summoned dragons without the influence of Valyria. If magic alone could achieve that, we would not have monopolized dragons for centuries."

"What's your plan, Rhaenyra?" Rhaenys asked.

Rhaenyra looked at both of them. "Can Meleys and Caraxes ensure the destruction of Vermithor and Silverwing? And what of the vast Vaelarys fleet?"

Rhaenys shook her head gravely. "We cannot be certain those two dragons are the same as when they entered the ruins. In a direct battle, we might kill Silverwing, but it's likely Meleys and Caraxes would fall as well."

"We cannot afford the price of failure," Daemon said. "That's why I plan to negotiate."

"You want to ally with them?"

Rhaenyra stared at Daemon in disbelief.

"Essos cannot tolerate a dragonlord family of its own," Daemon said as he guided his wife along the bridge. "Volantis will fracture over this. The Free Cities that assassinated dragonlords during the Century of Blood will be paralyzed with fear, while schemers and warmongers will rise, turning the region into a battlefield of endless intrigue. The chaos will erode their strength over time."

Rhaenys picked up where Daemon left off, her voice calm yet calculating. "Essos is vast and complex, but time is on our side. The hatchlings will grow into war-ready dragons, and Vhagar will return to her peak in a few years."

At the mention of Vhagar, all three of them flinched, their faces darkening momentarily.

"What terms can you offer them?" Rhaenyra asked, her gaze locking onto Daemon. Beside her, Rhaenys added, "Terms that would align them with us, Daemon. You've already secured my granddaughter's betrothal to my grandson. Marriage won't be a tool for this alliance."

Daemon smirked. "Hightower in King's Landing doesn't have that leverage either. Their daughter is already married to that imbecile of a son." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "But I trust my brother, our King, will provide the finest terms to sway them."

He placed a kiss on Rhaenyra's forehead. "I will bring you dragons and armies. Trust me."

\---

King's Landing

This sprawling, chaotic city originated from the small fort Aegon the Conqueror built at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. Following the unification of the Six Kingdoms, the city had grown into a sprawling metropolis, said to house 500,000 souls.

Atop Aegon's High Hill stood the Red Keep, its towering silhouette imposing and somber. Legends whispered that Maegor the Cruel, the infamous tyrant, had massacred the workers who built the keep to ensure its secrets remained forever hidden.

Within the Red Keep, the weight of history and intrigue hung heavy in the air.

The King's Council

The members of King Viserys's council sat uneasily, their gazes darting toward Queen Alicent Hightower, who looked equally puzzled. None of them knew why they had been summoned so urgently.

Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, observed his daughter's expression and immediately understood—Viserys had not informed even his queen of the matter at hand.

The Master of Ships, Ser Tyland Lannister, and the Master of Laws, Lord Jasper Wylde, exchanged wary glances but chose to remain silent.

The Master of Whisperers, Lord Larys Strong, and the Master of Coin, Lord Lyman Beesbury, sat motionless, staring at the orbs symbolizing their offices.

"Where are Grand Maester Mellos and Ser Cole?" Otto finally broke the oppressive silence in the chamber.

"We're here, my lord Hand," came the reply.

Grand Maester Mellos entered, struggling under the weight of several heavy tomes, shuffling slowly to his seat.

Behind him strode the strikingly handsome Ser Criston Cole, clad in the immaculate white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard. As the sworn protector of the king, Ser Cole followed close behind Viserys I, who entered with a contemplative expression.

The Kingsguard, known as the White Cloaks, were famed for their martial prowess and unassailable honor—at least in reputation. This group's current Lord Commander, Criston Cole, was a man of humble origins with exceptional swordsmanship and an equally notable visage. After the death of the former commander, Ser Harrold Westerling, Cole had taken over the mantle, tasked with safeguarding the Red Keep and the royal family.

Viserys hesitated briefly but ultimately took his seat, placing the orb symbolizing his kingship into the slot on the council table.

"Gentlemen, the realm faces a crisis, and I must rely on your wisdom."

"We are at your service, Your Grace," the councilors replied in unison, standing briefly and bowing before retaking their seats.

"Grand Maester, explain the situation," Viserys directed.

Mellos nodded, producing a letter from his stack of papers.

"My lords, word has arrived from Dragonstone. The Black Wall nobles of Volantis, Draezell Vaelarys and his brother Vaelar Vaelarys, have used sorcery and other means to tame Vermithor and Silverwing within the Valyrian ruins. It is also said they have obtained more than one dragon egg."

"Impossible!" Otto exclaimed, rising to his feet in shock—a rare lapse in his composure.

The council chamber erupted into astonishment.