Chapter 58: Survive or Live

Fifth Moon, 120 AC

Jacaerys

Over a hundred years ago, his ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror had destroyed a Volantene fleet at Lys. Jace found it almost fitting that he would be following in his footsteps. He looked ahead to his prey. The Volantene fleet had formed up in formation. Each ship bristled with scorpions, pointed desperately at the sky. They fired a mass volley of bolts that came flying at Jace and his dragon from all directions.

Without even needing his order, Tessarion released a cobalt wreath of flames that incinerated each bolt. In the next moment, Jace ordered her into a fierce dive. With a terrifying speed they descended onto the Volantene armada. They had even left gaps between each ship, hoping that that would save them. At times Jace wondered why they even tried. Nothing could save them from one dragon, let alone three.

Following his lead Laena and Shrykos and Baela and Moondancer dived with him. As they neared the fleet, their three dragons opened their maws and unleashed destruction. A firestorm of cobalt, silver, and green enveloped the fleet and no amount of distance or spacing saved the Volantenes as Jace and his fellow dragonriders strafed their ships from above.

They circled the area long enough to watch their own fleet sail through the burning wreckages of the Volantene armada, their reinforced hulls smashing through the burning planks and cinders like knives through butter. With their current task done, Jace looked to the next. In the distance, Lys the Lovely awaited, looking beautiful even from afar.

He urged his dragon forward. With a fearsome roar, Tessarion beat her wings and sped off into the distance, Shrykos and Moondancer hot on her tail. Lys was rapidly approaching. Even from here he could see the Volantene garrison manning their posts in the harbor and seawalls. He narrowed his eyes. He was proud of his fleet and he trusted in his army's skill and loyalty, but there was no reason they could not make their job as easy as possible.

Baela and Laena pulled up beside him on either side atop their dragons. Though Baela was more experienced in war, Laena was more dedicated to her flight training knowing as he did what the stakes were. He knew he could depend on them both equally for the task at hand.

"Keep the harbor intact for our troops to land. Blast open the gates and sear the garrison on the battlements of the seawalls. Try to avoid burning the city and all the innocent people if possible. Our only targets are the Volantenes and any slavers who get in our way," Jace ordered. They nodded before breaking off to carry out his commands.

The garrison on the harbor walls stood as little a chance as the fleet did, turning into ash and charred husks before the power of their dragons. Perhaps they might have put up a little more of a fight if Lys hadn't been in flames around them.

For years the people of Lys had whispered to each other in secret that Zaldilaros would come and save them. The Triarchs' move to lead a coup and seize the Emerald Palace and hold the governing Rogare family hostage in the name of House Velaryon had been the spark for a violent uprising of the oppressed slaves. They had risen up against their masters, taking them prisoner or killing them in their homes.

Cruel and unjust atrocities had been committed on many slavers' families, retribution for what they had done to the families of the slaves. The streets of Lys had run red with blood as the slavers and their guards and mercenaries had fought alongside the Volantene garrison against the rioting mob of slaves threatening to burn, kill, and loot, all in his family's name. In Jace's name. In retaliation the slavers slaughtered and massacred many innocent slaves, driving the hate even further and radicalizing both sides more and more.

Was this what his parents had seen all those years ago in Tyrosh and Slaver's Bay? The worst and vilest deeds humanity could commit on each other? Little wonder then that they had tasked him with this responsibility. He doubted they had much desire to see it again.

Jace took no pleasure from the sight… no that would be a lie. It did not please him to see such chaos for chaos' sake but knowing that the devotion of these people to his family was so strong, knowing that they were one step closer to survival, to realizing his ambitions because of that devotion, that pleased him.

Two weeks had passed since Moredo Rogare's daring coup and the arrival of the Velaryons was the end of the slavers. With the rioting slaves on one side, the Velaryon fleet disembarking in the harbor, and the dragons in the sky overhead, the few remaining slavers either made a doomed last stand and died pointlessly or threw down their arms and surrendered to the Velaryon soldiers hoping they'd be more merciful than the slaves they had oppressed for years.

By half past midday, Jace had deemed that there was no further use for their dragons. The last open and armed resistance had been burned away inside the Volantene fort, which was now manned by his loyal army. There would be much work over the coming months, work for his army to root out any remaining slavers and pacify any belligerent mobs of freed slaves. Work to rebuild Lys and prepare it for integration into the Velaryon State as part of a reborn Triarchy.

Unfortunately, none of those tedious tasks were suited for a dragon's indiscriminate destruction so for now, Tessarion's role in the Conquest of Lys was over. He set down Tessarion in the grounds of the Emerald Palace, and Baela and Laena followed suit with their own dragons. Their Dragonkeepers hadn't yet arrived in Lys, so they saw to their dragons' care themselves, stabling, feeding, and watering them as they had been taught by years of experience. Beyond serving as a deterrent to any defiance and a reminder of his family's power, his beloved dragon would have nothing to do for quite some time but relax in the lush gardens of the Emerald Palace looking menacing.

When they had seen to their dragons, the three of them made for the Emerald Palace. Jace would admit, the Rogare family manse looked quite impressive. Its walls were painted a dark yellow but its name originated in its dark green windows and roof tiles that shone in such a way that they resembled the luster of emeralds. It was hardly the match of Zaldilaros Palace but it definitely lived up to its name as an ostentatious manse in its own right.

Some of the Tide Guard had already stationed themselves in the Emerald Palace ahead of time, awaiting their arrival. Jace noticed them easily, as their captain was Sandoq the Shadow, a seven-foot tall and fearsome warrior. He had been just a young slave boy when his parents had conquered Meereen, recently condemned to a life of ritual disfigurement and endless fighting before his parents had saved him and taken him into their service where he had eventually risen into the ranks of the elite Tide Guard.

Now Sandoq was one of their fiercest and most loyal. He did not speak often but when he did, it was always full of devotion and loyalty. "My lord," he said with a deep bow as Jace approached.

"With me Captain Sandoq, and the rest of you," Jace ordered. They obeyed and filed in behind them, with the captain walking beside Jace. "Is the Emerald Palace secure?"

"It is my lord. I have had the Tides screen through it. There is no danger. Rogare did a fine job securing the manse. He is waiting for you in fact my lord, in the Hall of Mirrors, along with the other leaders of the Triarchs and our officers."

"Understood. Thank you for informing me Sandoq." Sandoq bowed his head in acknowledgement before falling back into formation with his platoon.

It was a longer walk than expected to reach the Hall of Mirrors but when they finally arrived, Jace noticed that everyone was in the room, as he had been told. His admiral, the flamboyant rapscallion Racallio Ryndoon stood alongside his second and third in command, Vice Admiral Ned Bean and Jace's cousin, Rear Admiral Malentine Velaryon. One of his other cousins, Rhaekar, stood with General Maratis, his former lieutenant colonel in Gogossos who had since been promoted to General and had commanded the army the fleet had carried.

Across from the officers stood the Triarchs. He recognized Septon Maekar who bowed to him happily, and beside him were several men he recognized as Maekar's colleagues from years of secret meetings, and some that he did not. Among them, was a tall and stern man with white-blonde hair and blazing blue eyes in a suit of dark sapphire blue plate armor with gilded accents. So this must be Moredo Rogare.

His cousin noticed their coming and smiled. "Attention! All hail Jacaerys Velaryon!" Malentine shouted as he straightened.

Jace nodded to his cousin before teasing him. "Did you forget my wife and sister Cousin?"

Malentine straightened even further. "Forgive me my lord. All hail Baela and Laena Velaryon!"

"Hail to House Velaryon!" the others chorused.

"At ease," Jace said before he walked up to the throne of the Rogare family and stood at the dais. He turned and spoke. "Gentlemen. We have won a great victory! Lys has been liberated from the yoke of Volantis and the shackles of slavery!"

"Victory is what we do best my lord! Velaryon and Victory!" Racallio Ryndoon shouted eagerly in a husky voice.

"I enjoy your enthusiasm Admiral Ryndoon. And there will be many more victories to win and celebrate. In the north, my brothers and goodsister have liberated Myr. In all the lands between them and us, our army marches bringing freedom and justice to all corners of the Heel of Essos. They will not stop, until the borders that we desire are attained, until Lys and Myr are restored to rightful territories in full.

"Those who stand to lose from this do not intend to sit idly by however. Even as their slaves riot in their own cities, and the armies of the coalition march on their borders, we have heard whispers of Pentos and Volantis mustering their forces to march against our own. This cannot be allowed to stand. Until Pentos and Volantis are humbled, Lys and Myr can never be truly free. The war will continue until our enemies submit to us and acknowledge the freedom of Lys and Myr in their true borders… but that can wait until tomorrow. For today gentlemen, we celebrate the first of many victories!" Jace shouted with cheer.

The Triarchs and officers alike cheered at his words. Jace began calling out many of them to commend them for their services. He commended his admirals and generals for their dedication and loyalty, he commended the Triarchs for their bravery and courage after years of persecution and secret resistance. There was one man above all others that Jace had to commend however.

"Moredo Rogare, step forward," he commanded. Rogare obeyed, gingerly, reverently stepping before him.

"Above all others in this room, you must be commended Moredo. You risked your life for years providing information to the Triarchs, you sacrificed your relationship with your own family and turned against them to do what was right. You chose to do the right thing, even when it pitted you against those you loved most. For this courage, Moredo, I would name you the Head of the Rogare Family. You will possess what remains of your family's wealth and lands after what is taken as compensation for your father's crimes to help rebuild Lys, and I can assure that will still be a princely inheritance. You will also be made a peer, a Keeper, to serve under me and my house. Apart from these rewards however, I will also grant you one more. What boon would you have of me?" Jace asked.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Baela looking at him in askance but he did his best to ignore her gaze.

"Mercy my lord," Moredo pleaded.

That seemed to confuse Moredo's friends. Jace himself wondered about it. He had had it on good word that Moredo desired and certainly deserved knighthood. Still he would hear the man out. "Mercy?" Jace asked, confused.

"For my mother, and younger siblings. I know that there is no saving my father and older brothers, nor should there be, but my mother and younger siblings are innocent as can be. They are guilty of naught but being born into this family, into this society, as I was, and there is still time for them to learn to be better."

"Lord Rogare, the House of Zaldilaros are not butchers to murder innocent women and children," Jace said sternly.

'Are you sure about that?' a voice in his mind questioned but he crushed it and moved on.

Moredo looked panicked. "I did not say you were my lord, please forgive my slight. I merely thought it right that I guarantee my mother and siblings' safety rather than greedily seek more rewards for myself. It is the least that I owe them after my betrayal, no matter how deserved it was. It is now my duty as their head of house, as their son and elder brother."

Jace smiled. In a lot of ways, Moredo reminded him of his own brothers. "Very well Lord Rogare, may your worries be put to rest. Your mother and younger siblings will be released into your custody and they are now your responsibility. Your father and older brothers will stand trial for their crimes and be given a just sentence."

Moredo nodded in gratitude. "That is all I ask my lord."

"All you ask, but not all you deserve. Kneel Moredo Rogare," Jace commanded.

Moredo looked to Septon Maekar and some of his other friends in the Triarchs in awe before almost tripping over himself to obey and kneel. Drawing Seafang from its scabbard, Jace descended from the throne and placed it gently atop Moredo's right shoulder, moving the sword over to his left shoulder with every sentence.

"Moredo of House Rogare, in the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Smith I charge you to be skilled. In the name of the Crone I charge you to heed counsel and grow wise. In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to keep these vows even unto death. Do you accept this oath?"

"I do," Moredo said proudly. In response Jace rose Seafang a little higher and let it crash down upon Moredo's right shoulder along the flat of the blade, careful to not injure him with the sharp blade while producing an impact strong enough for him to feel.

"Then let that be the last blow you receive unanswered. Rise Ser Moredo, Knight of the Triarchy," Jace pronounced.

"You will not regret this my lord. Thank you, thank you so much."

"No, I don't think I will. You are one of the finest knights that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting ser," Jace said honestly.

Good and honest men like Moredo were hard to find and their loyalty had to be secured. Sometimes even the smallest of things went a long way. He nodded to his sister.

"Ser Moredo," Laena began, calling out to Moredo who was embracing Septon Maekar and his other friends. "There is someone else here that would like to celebrate with you."

At her directive, the Tide Guard escorted in one of their servants in Zaldilaros Palace, a young woman by the name of Annalys that the Conches had brought to them from Lys many years ago. She ran to Ser Moredo and kissed him happily, much to the teasing and good-hearted cheering of the others in the hall.

Jace could not help but smile. He had known of course that orchestrating Annalys' reunion with Moredo would help cement the Rogare lord's already strong loyalty to him, but somewhere deep down, he had simply wanted to make it happen without any ulterior motives. Little things like this reminded him that there was something that differentiated them from the Targaryens, something that had made all these men and women so fanatically loyal to his house to the point that they were willing to kill and die for them. And Jace meant to honor that loyalty and repay it. He always had.

Eventually Jace dismissed all the others from the throne room as their business was concluded, leaving him alone to admire the many vanities. The Hall of Mirrors certainly lived up to its name. It was a symbol of obscene wealth and blatant narcissism. Everywhere he looked, he could see his own reflection. It was a wonderful marvel and sight. Jace hated it. Hated to look upon the man he was forcing himself to become for his family's survival.

"You know Jace, if you needed someone to admire how you looked, you just had to call me," Baela teased as she walked up beside him.

Despite himself, Jace smiled at his wife's jape. "Why do I need to call when you're volunteering yourself already?" he teased back.

He turned around to look at her and his smile faded a little. Though there was amusement in her face, Jace could tell that something was bothering her. They had been married for almost seven years after all. Jace held in a sigh. "What is it Baela?"

"You're annexing Lys and Myr, aren't you?" she asked.

He had to fight very hard not to release that sigh. "Did I ever say we weren't?"

"I was of the impression that we were intervening to save the slaves from their masters. Form protectorates and puppet states under our influence, at least in the short-term, as we ease the Targaryens into us annexing them outright. Annexing them so fast like this Jace, it will unsettle and anger my family. There's still time for restraint," Baela advised him.

'No Baela, there isn't,' Jace thought but aloud he retorted, "The Targaryens will be angry and unsettled no matter what we do. Every little thing we do to improve our lot and the inheritance of our sons is looked upon in suspicion and doubt. What is the point of appeasing them?"

"So that we can minimize the disturbance to our relationship with them Jace? You told me that you wanted to do that didn't you? Well where is it?" Baela demanded.

"I have been haven't I? We named our second son for your father, a man who hates me. We took our children to meet your parents and siblings. I was as civil as possible with them. We can maintain personal relations with them Baela, but that doesn't mean we have to trip over ourselves to make sure they're happy at the expense of our own benefit and prosperity. Besides, I think the Targaryens have other problems than us to worry about right now."

Baela looked at him sharply and he knew he had made a mistake. "Yes… that's right. Other problems. Very convenient other problems," she said, scrutinizing his reaction.

Jace calmed himself and steeled his expression as much as he could. "Convenient coincidences."

"Some would say too convenient," Baela said suspiciously.

"They can say whatever they want, won't change the facts."

"And what are those facts?" Baela challenged.

Jace hesitated a second too long and Baela's expression fell. "Do you trust me Jace?"

He held her hands. "With my life."

Baela looked at him sadly before she shook her head. "But not enough to tell me the truth," she said before she walked away, leaving him in the throne room with his reflections.

_________________________________________

Sixth Moon, 120 AC

The Tiger of Volantis

"Your orders Your Excellency?" the captain asked him. All around him, the other officers in the army waited patiently for his decision.

Maegoro Maegyr drummed his fingers on the table. He was in a dilemma. A modest force of Velaryon soldiers, around five thousand in number had been scouted about half a day's march away, near the Orange Shore. Maegyr had twenty-five thousand men, scraped from the barrels of Volantis and its vassal towns and conscripted from the Tiger Cloaks and the Red Hand for the defense of their noble city, the Eldest Daughter of Valyria.

Had it been any other time, perhaps he could have marched at the head of a far greater army, but with the war against the Coalition, many of their armies were in the east and north and had not had time to return home yet. This was all they had. Had it been against any other foe, twenty-five thousand against five thousand should have been a certain victory. This was not any other foe however. This was House Velaryon, with seven of the most dangerous weapon the world had ever known. Seven dragons.

Their last reports had indicated that the Velaryon dragons were in the three cities. Viserra the Sea Dragon and the most infamous Velaryon rider was in Tyrosh with her dragon and husband, presumably caring for her grandchildren. One might also be confused why the Velaryons were keeping their best rider in reserve, but Viserra's children were no less fearsome.

To the north in Myr, Lucerys the Loyal, Rhaena the Radiant, and Daeron the Daring had taken the city of Myr and were sheltered behind its walls. To the south, Jacaerys the Fearless, Baela the Bold, and Laena the Lovely had seized Lys. Each one of these riders would be terrifying to face on their own, especially since four of their number had faced down monstrous chimeras of legend and lived to tell the tale. Facing all six would be a nightmare.

And yet, did he have a choice? If they faced a dragonrider, defeat was all but certain, but there was honor to be held in at least attempting to put up a fight before they surrendered and came to terms with the Velaryons. The other two Triarchs, his fellow Tiger Vaekar Vhassar and the sole Elephant Belicho Paenymion thought differently. They believed that their new scorpions, developed after decades of research, could defeat the Velaryon dragons. Maegoro highly doubted that but he supposed there was no harm in trying.

Which brought him back to his dilemma. Should he attempt to make battle with the small Velaryon force? If he caught them off guard, he could potentially deal the Velaryons a grievous blow and return to safer territory before they even noticed something was wrong. Dragons flew fast yes, but not that fast. Of course he had to consider the risk that the Velaryons might be patrolling the skies in the area and if they saw his army, fancy new scorpions or not, it would not end well for them.

But if he didn't take the risk, what would be the purpose of him commanding this army? He might as well just let the Velaryon Army march further into their lands, dispossessing their citizens and freeing their slaves to commit atrocities against their rightful masters. They were the last line of defense for Volantis. If they fell, if they stood by and did nothing, the way was open for the Velaryon Army to march on Selhorys, Valysar, Volon Therys, Sarhoy, and even Volantis itself. The Velaryons wouldn't even need dragons to win at that point.

"Excellency?" the captain asked again.

He stopped drumming his fingers, surprising the officers with the sudden stop. "Sound the horns and tell the men to ready for a march in half an hour. Double time. We'll destroy the Velaryon force and return to safer territory before their dragonriders even know what hit them."

His officers cheered at his command and Maegoro smiled reassuringly. In his mind however, he quashed the thought: nowhere was truly safe when dragons were involved, not even Old Volantis itself behind the Black Wall.

By midday, they had gained on the small Velaryon force, seeming to take them unaware as they marched. Maegoro smiled with glee seeing the unprepared Velaryon outriders rush to inform their brethren that they were under attack. Too little too late. He sounded his commanding horn and sent in his attack.

The battalion of war elephants trumpeted as they charged for the Velaryon force, ready to smash right through their unready lines and pound their unworthy bodies into paste on the ground. On their flanks and heels rode Maegoro's cavalry, a full complement of heavily armored lancers and horseback archers, easily the equal of any Westerosi knights.

Right before they made contact with the Velaryon formation however, the world turned blue and blazed with fire. In the sky a cobalt dragon soared overhead, roaring menacingly.

Trying to keep himself from panicking at the sight of the Azure Princess, Maegoro immediately ordered his archers to fire massed volleys on the dragon to buy their scorpion crews time to load their weapons. He also sounded the horn for their retreat, their gamble had failed. As his rearguard turned to head back east however, a row of yellow flames poured upon the fields and set them ablaze, blocking their way. The Yellow Death soared into view.

Maegoro's heart dropped into a pit. What… what was Morghul doing here? Their last reports had indicated that Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon were in Myr, even if they were out on patrol they should never have come so far south. He knew their doom was sealed when he heard another deafening roar from the west as another four dragons entered the fray. Moondancer, Morning, Terrax, and Shrykos. Beautiful in all their colorful glory, but their coming meant the end.

He realized it then. They had always known where his army was. How could he have been so foolish? Dragons could fly, they must have been tracking his army for weeks. It was all a game to them. They had intentionally baited him to march west, where they would destroy him and his army with six dragons in a show of force, a threat to his home city to surrender or else. And if he hadn't taken the bait, he had little doubt they'd have just attacked his position anyway.

The scorpion crews readied their weapons and loosed the bolts, what few bolts weren't evaded or straight up missed the marks entirely bounced harmlessly off the hardened scales of the dragons. Only one found its mark puncturing through the wing membrane of the silver dragon, Shrykos. The angered dragoness roared in fury and his army cheered but Maegoro knew that she was merely annoyed, not truly hurt.

"Open the white banners now! Tell them we surrender!" Maegoro ordered his captains.

"But Your Excellency the scorpions are working!"

"No they're not you damnable –" His words were interrupted by a massive pillar of flame that burned its way right through the center of his army. He didn't even know which dragon it had come from.

"They're done waiting for our surrender," Maegoro said aloud in horror. He couldn't give up yet however. "Do it! Do it now!" he barked but his men had frozen in fear at the sight surrounding them. Some of their fellow soldiers had been charred into husks, others roasted and cooked in their armor, smelling like pork, well done. Some had no trace left of their existence but ashes.

Hurriedly Maegoro grabbed the white banner from his standard holder and desperately unfurled it. "We surrender!" he shouted as he began waving it as high as he could.

The dragons did not see the banner it seemed because the carnage had begun in full. One dragon soared around the whole army, burning their flanks even as they sealed them inside a circle of fire. The remaining five strafed through their ranks, incinerating as they flew overhead. Some desperate few continued to fight back, loosing arrows and scorpion bolts over and over again, to little avail.

How long had passed since this slaughter had begun? Seconds? Minutes? Maegoro did not know. He kept on waving his banner desperately, hoping that it would be seen, that it would be acknowledged. It was their only chance of survival. He began to weep as he thought of his family and loved ones back in Volantis, he would never see them again, not alive. Perhaps Volantis' end had come and they'd meet him again in the afterlife soon. As the Rhoynar his ancestors had so bitterly fought against had learned the hard way, lesser men provoked the wrath of the dragonlords at their peril.

He didn't even see the blast of flame that finally ended his life, didn't realize as it burned through every soldier in its way until it reached him. He felt only an agonizing and blinding pain for a moment before he never felt anything ever again.

______________________________________________

Daeron

Daeron frowned to himself as Terrax finished her last strafe on the Volantene army. He could have sworn he saw a white surrender banner for just a second before Terrax had burned through a hundred men the very next moment. Too little, too late he supposed. The Volantenes hadn't done a very good job of indicating their willingness to lay down their arms. He remembered the arrow that had bounced off his armor from one of their incessant volleys; harmless ultimately but it could have been dangerous if his armor wasn't made of Valyrian steel.

To be fair to the Volantenes however, they hadn't exactly been very willing to accept surrenders either. A single division of five thousand would have been hard pressed to keep a Volantene army five times its size prisoner, even with dragons. Their objective had been the total destruction of the Volantene army and they had accomplished their goal.

Less than ten minutes after Jace had halted the Volantene cavalry charge on their own army, there was no more Volantene army to speak of. The power of six dragons was terrifying to behold. All that was left of the Volantenes was a field of ash and charred husks and bones.

The sight gave Daeron mixed feelings. On one hand they were enemies, slaver scum who deserved to die, and yet on the other, all of these men had had families, reasons to fight and live, and he and his siblings had taken it all away from them without even hesitating. Were they any better than the Targaryens in the end? Did they not also use their dragons to destroy all who dared to resist them?

He shook his head and hardened his heart as best as he could. It was war, and it had to be done. He followed Jace's lead, landing his dragon alongside the others in front of their own army. Daeron noticed that while they looked grateful for rescuing them from the Volantenes and awed by their presence, many also looked frightened and terrified of the carnage they could unleash. It was a natural reaction, but one that still upset Daeron. Their people would never have any reason to fear their wrath unless they betrayed them.

They issued their orders to the officers in command, instructing them to pass it on to all the other Velaryon Army units in the area. Their orders were to press their advantage all the way to the Orange Shore and Olvys Mell and then up to the Rhoyne River near Selhorys, exactly according to the borders Jace had drawn on that map all those years ago. With Volantis' armies still fighting the Coalition on their northern and eastern borders and the last of their strength destroyed in the recent battle, the way was open.

Once they had had a quick lunch, courtesy of the army quartermaster requisitioning their finest supplies for them, they had mounted up their dragons and turned north. Originally, Daeron had been stationed in the north along with Luke and Rhaena. While Laena, Jace, and Baela had taken Lys, the three of them had secured Myr.

They hadn't made much progress in securing the hinterlands to the north of Myr however as their armies had prioritized securing what had once been the Disputed Lands to the south. Then Jace, using the glass candles, had called the three of them south to help him and the others destroy the Volantene army. They had also used those glass candles to track precisely where they were at all times and lure them into a trap.

Technically speaking, it wasn't necessary to use six dragons to destroy one army, but Daeron understood Jace's intent. It was a show of force, a warning to Volantis of what awaited them if they continued defying them. For the past week they had helped Jace secure the Lyseni territories as quickly as possible with six dragons and now that there was no more resistance in the south, all six of them would be flying north to deal with the Pentoshi, Norvoshi, Volantenes, and anyone else that would still defy them. It was time to finish this war, once and for all.

Despite having fought a battle, neither them or their dragons felt that tired. For the past five years, they had trained intensely, drilling themselves for greater speed, stamina, and endurance, always pushing themselves further to see how far they could go. Four of them at least knew what the stakes were, and even though Baela and Rhaena still didn't know, they had taken part in their training all the same.

The distance between Myr and Olvys Mell at the western end of the Orange Shore was around the same distance between Dragonstone and King's Landing. Many years ago, in a time so different and carefree it almost felt like a different life, Daeron would race between Dragonstone and King's Landing with his best friend Aegon. In those days they could leave either at dawn and make it to the other by noon and then back to their starting point by sunset. After years of training, he and all the riders he raced with now could do that in half the time.

When they returned to Myr, the afternoon heat had only just begun to dissipate as the sun creeped toward the horizon. Sunset was still a few hours away, but the day had already begun to cool. It was an unfortunate fact of dragonriding that all of them had gotten used to a long time ago. It could get very hot when you were riding on a dragon since the sun was on you, even when you were flying fast enough for the wind to streak past your hair. Luckily, their Valyrian blood ensured they didn't really tan or get sunburnt, and Valyrian steel armor had at least some degree of heat resistance, that along with cloaks and the wind chill helped shield them from the worst of the heat.

Nonetheless Daeron was still grateful to be done with flying for the day when he finally set Terrax down in the courtyard. The manse that House Velaryon had claimed was no rival to Zaldilaros Palace in Tyrosh or even the Emerald Palace in Lys but it had been the closest Myr had to a palace such as those, having belonged to the Taenos family who had served as the First Magister of Myr on a Conclave puppetted by Volantis and Pentos.

Regrettably the Taenos family had proven defiant and unwilling to surrender and so had been removed from power by force. Many of their fellow nobles had proven less stubborn and just like Moredo Rogare in Lys, some had even joined the Triarchs years ago. They would be rewarded for their service with peerages but for the most part, the Myrish nobility had been gutted and their resources and assets had been claimed for House Velaryon.

Daeron dismounted from his dragon and handed her over to the Dragonkeepers to be stabled and cared for. He loved Terrax, but caring for her personally after a flight could be time-consuming. The Dragonkeepers knew how to take care of her, so there was little to worry about.

 He could see Jace, ever the tireless worker, heading to a meeting room, no doubt wishing to speak to the officers and familiarize himself with the situation on the northern front. Daeron shook his head. Sometimes it felt like Jace didn't know what rest meant. Perhaps he felt duty-bound to serve as much as he could.

Retiring to his quarters, which had been reserved for him since he had taken Myr with Luke and Rhaena, Daeron unclasped his helmet from where it joined to his neck guard and placed it on the table. Idly he ran his fingers along the glass visor sealed into the helmet's eye slit. The visor would protect his eyes from the wind and any dust as they flew at high speeds and it was reinforced to protect them at least partially from impacts from rocks, arrows, and even fire. It was so useful he wished his family had come up with the idea for it much earlier, before they had been forced to innovate to survive.

Putting his helmet aside, Daeron poured himself several cups of water from the jug and gulped them down greedily. He started unbuckling and loosening his armor, struggling a little with some of the harder to reach clasps. This was normally done with a squire or two to help him but he was not really in the mood to walk all the way to the barracks to get them.

"Need any help?" a familiar voice that sang to his heart called from the door.

Laena's own helmet was tucked under her arm, and her silver-gold hair now flowed loosely without tie or braid, some of it sticking to her neck and cheeks messily due to her sweat, but it didn't do a thing to diminish Laena's beauty. Arguably it enhanced it. Some called her Battleborns, others praised her as Lovely, Daeron would say both fit her perfectly, as she stood there, fierce and beautiful in her armor.

"Yes please," Daeron said.

Laena smiled and his heart sang at the sight as she walked forward, helping him out of his armor. He sighed in relief when the armor was finally off. Valyrian steel might be light, but it was stifling and stuffy to be in any armor for too long, especially this armor.

Returning the favor, he helped Laena out of her own armor, unclasping and unbuckling the many connections that held it together in a seamless whole. Every piece of their armor was designed to interlock without leaving any gaps that other plate armor might have. There was also an integrated gliding wingsuit in the armor piece along with a parachute that could be carried in a pack, though both were prototypes and hadn't been perfected. The idea was to maximize flexibility, minimize any entrance points for fire and other weapons, and provide an escape route for the wearer in the event their dragon was killed.

It was a new and innovative armor design pioneered after their family had realized the stakes of their feud with the Targaryens and it worked, especially with Valyrian steel. It had already saved them from a few injuries, maybe even death Daeron thought, recalling how straw arrows had bounced harmlessly off them due to their armor. They could only hope the armor had the same success against dragonfire when the time came. Their tests were promising, but only actual combat would prove if it would live up to their hopes when they needed it most.

His thoughts about the Dance must have showed on his face because Laena looked at him curiously. "What's on your mind?"

"Just thinking of how we got the armor forged. It was pretty easy to convince those Qohorik smiths to ditch Qohor and come work for us in Tyrosh when they realized how much Valyrian steel we had for them to work with and how much gold we were willing to pay them for it," Daeron lied, he didn't want to bother her with his brooding unnecessarily.

A very bad lie it seemed. Laena narrowed her eyes. "And what were you really thinking?"

He sighed. He had never been able to hide anything from Laena. Not even the feelings he had borne for her and thought he had kept hidden. They were just too close to each other to keep anything secret for long.

"I was thinking, that the armor has been proving its worth in the war so far, protecting us from any harm. I just hope that it can do the same when the Dance comes."

As he expected it would, Laena's face fell at the reminder of the ultimate war that hung over their house like a headsman's axe. "We can only hope."

An awkward silence filled the air before Laena continued. "But that isn't all that's on your mind is it?"

Daeron was a little confused what she meant. She smiled. "Something's been bothering you, since we fought the Volantenes. Or even before."

He sighed in disbelief. Laena really did know him well didn't she? Better than he knew himself sometimes. His thoughts drifted further as he pondered Laena's words.

In his mind's eye, he saw fire and destruction, destruction that he was responsible for. He burned away the lives of thousands and felt nothing, numb to it all. Was there something wrong with him he wondered? With all of them? If you killed one man, you were a murderer, but if you killed thousands from dragonback, you were a hero. It didn't make any sense.

Perhaps he was the only one with these misgivings. His brothers and goodsisters did not show the slightest hesitance, they had been tempered and fire-forged in the Basilisk Isles against corsairs and chimeras. Even Laena rode her dragon to war like she was born for battle.

In truth, Daeron did too. He was good at war, good with a sword, good enough with a spear to be given the family's Valyrian steel spear Aeglos, good at commanding his dragon to lay waste to all his enemies, but his heart wasn't really in it. There was little fun or glory in fighting in a true war. It was nothing like the training yard or the tourney where fighting had been a fun and enjoyable pastime and where he could be proud of his skills. War had never been Daeron's passion.

Daeron's true calling was exploration and adventure. He had wanted to follow in Jaenara Belaerys and his father's footsteps, and because of this Triarchy plan, this Dance hanging over his head, over all of their heads, he couldn't pursue his dream. Instead he obeyed his brothers and parents as the follower he had always been. He hardened his heart and became good for nothing other than making war, because that is what he needed to do but deep down he hated that he had to do it. He resented his elder brothers and parents for taking his dream from him and hated himself for being so selfish when they were simply doing what had to be done for all of them to survive.

"Don't say that," Laena said sharply, interrupting him from his thoughts.

Daeron's eyes widened in confusion. "Was I –"

"Thinking aloud?" Laena finished. "Yes."

He sighed. "I guess you know everything now Laena. My weakness," he said bitterly.

"It is not weak to dislike war Daeron, not unless you refuse to fight for what's important regardless of your distaste. There is honor in restraint, in understanding that your enemies are human still even if they are evil and deserving of death. There is no shame in having a heart that desires to explore and adventure in peace rather than laying waste to your enemies," Laena reassured him.

"But it's not the heart I need. I need a heart for war, to be strong and ruthless enough to fight for our family when the time comes. Even now, I can't muster up hate for Aegon you know. It's pathetic. He's one of our worst enemies and I shouldn't sympathize with him, I shouldn't be hesitating. I think of his words, think of his betrayal and it makes me angry, but it just takes up so much energy to hold a grudge and I just let it go. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing Daeron. You were a man betrayed by his best friend. You hold onto the good memories and don't want to let them go because that's just who you are. You are kind and caring, dutiful, daring, and loyal. It's not in your nature to wage war like this but you do so anyway because it is your duty to your family and your house, not because of any lust for power or desire for vengeance or wanton destruction. That's what makes you different from Aegon. You are a good man Daeron and that's why I…"

Laena hesitated. Her purple eyes met his as she continued slowly. "That's why I love you."

His heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in to kiss Laena. He tasted his sister-wife, their tongues intertwining as they deepened the kiss. When they finally broke the kiss, gasping for air, he held her forehead close to his and returned her confession. "I love you too."

She held him back in return and continued. "This war will not last much longer. The Targaryens are rushing to finish with the rebellions they are dealing with, the Free Cities are dealing with their own slave rebellions, and we have six dragons to finish conquering the northern territories Jace wants. One way or another, it will end in a few months and we will have our Triarchy."

"You could hardly call it war," Daeron countered. "It's just a one-sided slaughter as we destroy all our enemies with ease. The real war awaits us still, and victory will not come as easily or cheaply."

"And it remains far in the future. I know you're scared Daeron, and I know you think that you have to harden your heart to be ready for it. But life is about more than just preparing for the Dance. I see what it's doing to our parents, to Jace and Luke, and I don't want you to do it to yourself as well," Laena pleaded with him.

"What do you propose then?" he asked.

"You know the Dance is coming, so live your life to the fullest before it comes so that you don't have any regrets. And I don't just mean spending every moment you can drilling and preparing yourself for war. Spend time with me Daeron, with our children. Fulfill your dreams, pursue your passions. Take the Dawn Treader and go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Anywhere you want. Go for those voyages you wanted, your dreams of seeing the world. You're Daeron the Daring, act like it."

"What about you? And our children? Or the responsibilities I have here? I can't just go gallivanting around on years-long voyages and risking my life in uncharted lands. What if the Dance starts while I'm away?"

"The children and I can come with you, just as you told me you wanted all those years ago. It would do our girls good to get out of Tyrosh a little and see some of the world. And while our parents will most certainly veto you exploring uncharted lands because of the danger and I wouldn't disagree with them, nothing says we can't go to the eastern provinces, to Velos, Viserria, and Corlantis. We could go to the Free Cities, to Qarth and Moraq and Yi Ti. I'm sure there's some official business we could do on behalf of the family to fulfill our responsibilities as well."

"And the Dance Laena?" Daeron challenged.

Laena's passionate proposal died away. "We have glass candles," she said weakly.

"Do you really want to take that risk? I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself if I selfishly took you and our children on a voyage and the rest of our family died because we weren't around to support them," Daeron said.

Laena shook her head, her voice almost broke as she spoke. "I hate it. I hate knowing that the Dance is coming and there's nothing we can do to stop it. I hate that we're locked into this endless cycle of preparation and paranoia, that our life is nothing more than preparing for war now. We go to sleep every night wondering if it is the last night before the Dance begins. We worry incessantly about whether our children will even live to adulthood. We've stopped dreaming and now we're content to simply do the motions if it means preserving our existence. That's not living Daeron, that's just surviving without any true purpose or passion left in our life."

She looked regretful once she finished her speech. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded all of that on you."

Daeron shook his head. "I'm glad you did. Just as I'm glad you coaxed my own worries out of me. We're a team Laena, and I will never be sorry to hear your doubts and worries."

His heart broke for his beloved sister. She had been strong for so long and endured so much. They all had. Fate never allowed House Velaryon to rest easy it seemed. It was like their every success was mired with complications, every victory made pyrrhic somehow, every action bearing the risk of their ultimate defeat and destruction. When would it finally end? When would they finally have the peace they had always wanted? It just wasn't fair. 

But the world was not fair, it was cruel and harsh, and they had to be strong to survive, to live. And if Laena faltered, he'd just have to be strong for both of them, the way she was when he stumbled. And she was right. They had just been doing the motions to survive but in their paranoia and fear, they had forgotten what it meant to truly live.

He sighed. "This isn't something we can decide alone. We owe it to our family and our children not to be selfish. But you are right, we are in need of a break. When the dust settles from the Triunification, we should speak with our parents and brothers. Maybe we can find a way to have our lives back, even as we prepare for the Dance."