Chapter 70: At Rise

First Moon, 132 AC

Jacaerys

It was the second day of 132 AC, or in the Triarchy, 39 AZ. The start of a new year was normally a festive holiday period, but not for House Velaryon. Not this time. His uncle, King Aemon of House Targaryen had finally breathed his last and given up his spirit to the Stranger on the last day of 131 AC. That was two days ago, two days that Rhaenys had been Queen, and every day that passed with her in power was a day closer to the war that would decide the fate of his family.

Once word had been sent to them of Aemon's death by their Conches in King's Landing, long before even the ravens bearing the news had been sent out to the rest of Westeros, an emergency meeting had immediately been called for the family in Myr and his parents had left Driftmark on Dreamfyre to attend. They were due to arrive any moment now and sure enough Jacaerys heard a familiar roar that had never ceased to comfort him.

The Blue Queen trilled out a friendly greeting to her offspring, Jace's own dragon Tessarion, as she landed in the courtyard of the Ocean Manse. Jace watched as his parents unchained themselves and were helped down from the saddle by the Dragonkeepers, Dreamfyre not even so much as growling at them, she was far too obedient and loyal to his mother to do so.

Jace saw his parents for the first time in a few months, and they looked their age. Both of them were by right still hale and hearty and youthful for their ages, but it seemed the stress and worries now that the Dance was truly imminent had aged them. Yet even so, they still walked with their own strength without any aid, including his father who was already seventy and nine years old.

"Mother, Father, welcome to Myr," Jace said as he greeted them both with a hug and his mother with a kiss to the cheek as well.

"It's good to see you Jace. Where's everyone else?" his father inquired.

"Having an early lunch Father. There's been food and refreshments prepared for both of you so you can eat and rest as well. Once you're ready, we'll have our meeting," Jace said firmly.

Both of his parents nodded. After they had greeted the rest of the family and had their food and rest, they joined him in the meeting room with the Triarchy Council and all thirteen of their combat-ready dragonriders, though 'combat-ready' was stretching it. The new year had barely started, Corlys and Baelor weren't even of age yet, Rhaelle wasn't even twelve years old and Daemon was barely better. Yet the circumstances at hand left them with no choice but to involve their children in this war and Jace could only pray to whatever god existed or listened to keep them safe.

He was all too aware the Zaldilaros Creed was horse shit propaganda but it would be nice if it was actually true and they had the favor of the divine. Something told him that they'd need it.

For once, with his mother and father present, Jace did not take the seat at the head of the table but rather to the right of it, with his mother sitting opposite of him. The councilors and the dragonriders sat along the rest of the table or had brought extra seats to sit behind and listen in on the conversation.

With his father in the rightful seat held by the Archon, the meeting began immediately. Despite their looks of awe and amazement at the sight of his parents, it was Jace who had ruled the Triarchy for twelve years, not them. The council and his siblings turned to him for leadership and he could see his parents were looking to him as well, wondering what he would do and say.

Taking a deep breath, Jace spoke. "My family, trusted and loyal councilors, the hour that we have spent decades dreading has come at last. King Aemon has passed and his daughter Rhaenys has ascended the Iron Throne. All of House Targaryen and the lords of the realm have been summoned to King's Landing to pay respects to her father at his funeral and do her homage at her coronation. It is our belief that she intends to use this gathering of the nobility to ensure their support of her demands on us, demands that we will have no choice but to reject, a rejection that would lead to war.

"Now that we have all gathered to discuss what we are to do in response, I hand over the meeting to my father," Jace said, nodding to his father.

"Thank you Jacaerys. Captain General Maratis, Admiral Ryndoon, what is the update on the situation in the Summer Isles and the readiness of our forces to invade them and the Stepstones?" his father said.

The Secretary of the Navy was quick to respond. "There's been another skirmish in the Summer Isles," Admiral Ryndoon said grimly. "The governor's fleet was involved for the first time. They tried to intervene between our traders and the South Sea Company and the Velaryon Navy itself was called in. The Governor of the Summer Isles has formally barred our Navy ships from his waters and he has declared that another skirmish will see our Merchant Marine expelled as well."

"Is the fleet prepared for our invasion?" his father inquired.

"Yes Your Excellency. I have thirty squadrons in the Basilisk Isles now that they have expelled us from the Summer Isles. There are forty in the Triarchy total and twenty are already waiting in Tyrosh, ten in Lys, and ten here in Myr. They're ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Maratis?" His father turned to the other Secretary of War, the Secretary of the Army.

 "I have two corps mobilized in the Triarchy proper already Excellency. One is in Tyrosh and ready to sail for the Stepstones at any moment. The other is still mobilizing from its garrisons and marching to Tyrosh but it should be ready by moon's end. The corps in Corlantis has been fully prepared and on alert for half a year now, they're not just ready, they're eager," the Captain General answered.

"Good," his father said. "They'll need that eagerness."

After that, his father turned to the other members of the Triarchy Council, including the Commerce Secretary, the Chief Diplomat, and the Treasurer, among other members. The primary objectives were to ensure the neutrality of the other powers of Essos in their war with the Targaryens, ensure that the Triarchy had the money to fund and prosecute the war including all the logistics involved, shift the economy to wartime production to produce war materiel and ensure that trade and local governance continued to run as smoothly as possible. Jacaerys aided his father here, providing key insights and information his father lacked but he possessed after twelve years of working with the council.

When that had concluded, two hours had passed and Jace noticed that some of the children were already looking bored. "Gentlemen, it is time that we put an end to this meeting. My family and I will update you on the deployment of our persons and our dragons by the end of the day. You are all dismissed. Thank you for your advice and your loyal service all these years. Seven willing we will all live to work together for many more years to come."

"It would be our honor Your Excellency," Maratis said. "Princess, Lord Jacaerys, my lords and ladies, it has been my pleasure," he said, addressing the rest of them with a bow before he and his fellow councilors walked out of the room to see to their orders.

"Mysaria," his mother called out without missing a beat, confusing many of the children. To their surprise, a small hidden door opened in one of the walls of the council room and Mysaria and two of her lieutenants walked out, sealing the door behind them and soon it looked like it had never existed at all.

"Your Excellency, Princess Viserra, Lord Jacaerys, my lords and ladies," she said as she and her lieutenants bowed.

"Take a seat Mysaria," Jace ordered. It was time the real meeting began.

As they took their seats, Mysaria spoke. "The Conches are already tailing and watching the councilors. If there is even a hint that they are seeking to betray us, we will know immediately."

"If we cannot even trust our own council, we are already lost," Luke said bitterly.

"That may be so, but it never hurts to be too careful. Good work Mysaria. Now we must decide how we are going to deploy our dragons in order to win this war, or at the very least survive it," his father said.

"Forgive me Grandfather, but is there much to discuss? We were of the opinion that we were deploying as a family, all thirteen of us, in order to avoid the foolish divisions you taught us about. Is that not why you and Grandmother have come to Myr?" his nephew Baelor asked.

His mother shook her head. "To an extent Baelor. But the Targaryens can easily do the same and if we fight them thirteen against thirteen, there is no guarantee we will emerge victorious. We might have Valyrian steel and fire magic, but their dragons are on average larger than ours. No we want to minimize casualties as much as possible and ensure our family's survival in the worst case scenario. To that end, Daemon and Rhaelle will not be deployed to war; Cousin Malentine holds command over five squadrons here in Myr, more than enough ships to carry them and all of the younger children to Velos in the east where they will be safe for the duration of the war and even afterward should it be necessary."

There was an immediate protest from both of them. "I can fight Grandmother! Please don't send me away!" Daemon said.

"I won't go!" Rhaelle said stubbornly.

"Daemon!" Jace barked at the same time as his brother shouted at Rhaelle. The two grumbled before quieting but soon Corlys spoke up on behalf of his brother.

"Daemon has to stay Father, Grandmother, if not Rhaelle. We need the numbers if we are to take the fight to the Targaryens."

"He's twelve," Baela said simply.

"He will be three and ten this year," Corlys countered. Daemon looked grateful for his elder brother's support.

"He's a child," she retorted.

"As are all of us," Corlys said, gesturing to his siblings and cousins. "Even Baelor and I, our namedays haven't come yet. Not even we are of age if you want to do it that way. We're all children. That doesn't change what we have to do. You trained us for this for years, now you have to let us do it."

Jace looked to his siblings and his wife and goodsister and there was a somberness in each of them. Their children looked at all of them expectantly and Jace saw only grief in his parents' eyes. Finally, his father made the decision for all of them as their head of house.

"Daemon stays. Rhaelle goes," he ordered.

Daemon looked exceedingly pleased at that but Rhaelle started protesting again. Jace could tell his brother and sister had let out a sigh of relief hearing that their second daughter would not be deployed to war when she was not even twelve.

"Rhaelle, you must go," his father said firmly, denying her pleas. "For the sake of the family. You are twelve years old, and you would be more of a hindrance than a help in a dragon duel. The rest of the family will seek to protect you and that will distract them and in a dragon duel, distraction is death. War is no place for a child who is not even twelve."

"But Daemon and the others are going!" she protested stubbornly again.

There was a pained look in his father's eyes but he continued on. "And I wish they weren't. But our hand is forced and we don't have a choice but to take them. We do with you and not only do you need to go for your own sake, but for the sake of your little siblings and cousins Rhaelle. You are the eldest among them when Corlys, Baelor, Daemon, Serra, and Jaenara go to war and they will look to you for your protection and your guidance. You will need to protect the family, and hold down the fort in Velos until we call you all back, can you do that for me? For all of us?"

"Rhaelle, please?" Laena pleaded.

Rhaelle looked downcast. "You all say that like you're not coming back. Like you expect to lose."

Jace shook his head firmly. "I promise you Rhaelle. We will not lose, and we will send for you when all of this is over. But we need to know that you and everyone else younger is safe."

Reluctantly, Rhaelle nodded and acquiesced. His father smiled emptily and continued. "Thank you Rhaelle. Like your grandmother was saying, Cousin Malentine is a Vice Admiral in the Velaryon Navy, he is currently in port in Myr and he holds command over five squadrons of ships, fifty in total. By tomorrow you and everyone younger will be onboard those ships along with whatever treasures and heirlooms we can spare and they will bear you thither to Velos.

"You will pick up Cousin Vaemond and his family from Tyrosh as you pass by it on your way to Velos, Cousins Rhaekar, Monford, and Monterys are sending their wives and children along as well and Rhogar is already in the Basilisk Isles. In the worst case scenario, you will be able to survive in the east even should the Triarchy fall and hopefully the Targaryens will be too exhausted to hunt you down all the way there. You should have enough time at least for yourselves and your dragons to grow up and become strong enough to fight back if they should even try. Uncle Jacaerys and I have already prepared a document naming Vaemond as regent until you come of age Rhaelle and you can take it over for Aurion."

"Understood," Rhaelle said with a somber nod.

"This is just the worst case scenario though isn't it? Wasn't the whole point of this meeting to avoid that scenario?" Serra spoke up.

"There's a simple way to win the war before it even begins," Corlys said. "Lady Mysaria, how prepared are your Conches to assassinate all of the Targaryens now that they are gathering in one place?"

Mysaria smiled. "Well enough my lord. We have spent years infiltrating the Red Keep and King's Landing, secret agents, sleeper cells, we have them all. There are a myriad of options available to us. We could just poison them all slowly, Tears of Lys or some two-part poisons perhaps. Or mayhaps we just slit their throats in the night, or kill them as they ride to the Dragonpit."

Baela and Rhaena looked absolutely disgusted. "Belay that order," Baela barked before she turned on their son. "Corlys, how could you?"

Corlys did not back down. "Mother, I am sorry, but this is war. We cannot allow yours and Aunt Rhaena's sentimental attachments to our enemies stop us from doing what has to be done to protect us, to protect our family, our children."

"With all due respect Lady Baela, I do not take orders from you," Mysaria said.

"But you do from me," Jace said. His wife and son and the whole table turned to him, paying rapt attention to his words. Jace looked at the grim determination in his son's eyes, the somberness from his siblings, the neutral unreadable expressions on his parent's faces, and the warring disgust, pain, and begrudging acceptance in Baela's eyes. Jace knew that if he gave the order, Baela would understand why he did it and may even one day agree with him for acting to protect their children from this war, but they both knew she would always resent him for it deep down whether she wanted to or not.

"Make your final preparations for these assassination plans Mysaria, but you are not to act unless we give the final order, under pain of the severest of consequences. Understood?" Jace ordered.

"Crystal clear my lord," Mysaria bowed humbly.

"Are you agreeable to this Father, Mother?" Jace asked.

His parents nodded and his mother spoke. "We are. It is a delicate time and we cannot act too hastily to assassinate the Targaryens. Failure would be disastrous and only serve to infuriate them. We need to know everything we can about their plans Mysaria. I want glass candles watching King's Landing at all times, if a dragon so much as sneezes I want to know, I want to know what Rhaenys' plans are and how she intends to sway Daemon and the others and what their war strategies will be."

"Understood my lady, but not all this may be possible with long-distance scrying from here in Myr. It is mentally taxing to keep the candles focused on one place for overly long and as you no doubt recall, they do not transmit sound. Some of this will have to be left to our agents in King's Landing, whether through close-distance scrying with the glass candles or other more conventional means," Mysaria replied.

"So be it. Your Conches are already preparing their assassinations, they are in position to listen in and watch even more closely I am sure," his mother said simply.

"Still, I have heard some concerning things Mysaria," his father said suddenly. "Why do I see from the reports that Larys Strong is dismantling our assets in the city?"

Mysaria was quick to reassure his father. "Larys Strong is inconsequential Your Excellency. He may possess some modicum of basic competence, enough to expose some of our least important and least hidden assets but he is ultimately no threat, especially not when we have an agent in his inner circle. He and his informal spy network with their outdated and inefficient organization and training cannot hope to stand against us, the Conches of House Velaryon, the first and only spy agency of our kind in the world," she said proudly.

For as long as Jace had known her, Mysaria had always taken the utmost pride in the fact that she was a Conch and that their organization was one of a kind and perhaps the most advanced in the world.

"Pride goes before the fall Mysaria and no one is infallible, not even myself and certainly not the Conches. Just because you have never failed before does not mean you will not fail now. Do not be so arrogant as to think Larys Strong is not a threat simply because he does not have the resources or standardized training and organization that you do. Keep an eye on him and make sure that he does not interfere in our plans. Terminate him if need be. Understood?" his father ordered.

If Mysaria looked displeased by the rebuke, she did not show it. "Yes Your Excellency."

"In the meantime, if anything goes awry with that plan or if we decide not to follow through with it for whatever reason, we need to decide how we are dividing up our dragons. Baelor, your earlier concern is correct. Splitting up is indeed foolish, but we cannot just clump together like this and risk the Targaryens doing the same. No we must entice them to split up," his father said.

"How?" Baelor asked.

"With Rhaelle and the others going to Velos, we have twelve dragons left. We'll deploy six to Tyrosh to threaten the Stormlands, Dorne, and the Stepstones, and six to Driftmark to 'threaten' King's Landing and Dragonstone. At the bare minimum I expect that the Targaryens will deploy to Summerhall in Dorne while keeping some of their dragons in King's Landing to hold the capital. They may split up even further if they want to cover Storm's End and Dragonstone as well. If we're lucky, they'd divide themselves up into three or four smaller teams," his father explained.

"How does that rig the odds overly in our favor though?" Corlys asked. "If our dragons are split up, aren't we right back where we started?"

"They won't be," Jace answered, having heard the plan before. "That's the reason why've we've spent so many years building speed and endurance racing between Driftmark and Tyrosh in our dragon training. Driftmark is a ruse, we moved everything and everyone of value from it and the Hook years ago and their castles are rigged with wildfire to blow at the slightest disturbance.

"When the Targaryens deploy and are ready to attack, glass candles will let us see where each of them are and coordinate a joint assault from Tyrosh and Driftmark with all twelve of us converging on a point, be it the Stormlands or Dorne and forming a mobile strike team that will pick off and wipe out the divided Targaryens in the region and trim their numbers down with minimal casualties on our part. Like a hammer upon an anvil, in a single fell swoop, the balance of power would swing to favor us, allowing us to finish the job and wipe out the Targaryen or negotiate peace on our terms. If we do it right, we could all come back home when the war is over."

"Eleven, not twelve," his mother corrected.

"Mother?" Laena was confused.

"The Targaryens are not that stupid. If they fly on Driftmark and find no one there, it will not be a stretch for them to conclude that we have headed south to attack their kin and if they follow us, it will be a bloodbath. Someone has to stay on Driftmark and delay them," their mother explained.

"Won't the wildfire do that?" Serra asked.

"It won't trigger unless they go poking around in the castles before they decide to fly south and even if it did no one ever said they'd have to stick around to stop it, they could just let it burn and fly off." Daeron answered their niece's question.

"Who could would we even ask to hold Driftmark? One dragon against four? Five? Six even? It's a suicide mission," Baelor said firmly.

A sudden thought occurred to Jacaerys then. "There's no wildfire in High Tide or Spicetown is there?" he asked his parents, making the whole table quiet down as they considered his words. "There couldn't be, not while the two of you and your staff and retinues still lived there and were still moving things here. And the two of you are too proud to let wildfire be their end, aren't you?"

Jace's siblings and even their children looked to the couple who had ruled their family for as long as any of them could remember, for as long as any of them had even lived. "Did you really think we'd ask anyone else to do this suicide mission Jace?" his father asked with a bittersweet smile. "High Tide is my castle, my life's work, the home your mother and I made for ourselves all those years ago. And I'll be damned before I let the Targaryens have it without a fight. I'll destroy it myself if I have to, no wildfire, no traps needed. Just me, your mother, and Dreamfyre."

"But… but you'll die," Corlys said, haunted.

"Don't go underestimating your grandparents now alright?" his mother said, a fierce smile on her face but Jace and his siblings could see the tears in her eyes. "Both of us know how to use fire magic and Dreamfyre is the largest dragon in the family, easily in Vhagar's weight class and able to stand up to even that hoary old bitch. They call me the Sea Dragon for a reason. I'm the oldest, most experienced, and most skilled dragonrider alive. We have the most chance of making it out of that fight on Driftmark compared to all of you, and if we die, well it's no big loss. We're both old and grey," she japed.

"Don't say that Mother," Laena protested. "You're still young and beautiful. Father too. You both have so many more years left in you. Don't do this just because you think you're going to die. Please, live."

"More beautiful at sixty than sixteen our mother," Daeron quipped.

"I concur," Luke said.

"Even you Father, we could do with your guidance and wisdom for as long as you would have us. You have a decade more at least, maybe even two. Please promise us you'll live, that you'll try at least and this isn't some stupid and prideful 'captain goes down with his ship' nonsense," Jace pleaded.

His parents' expressions softened. "Alright. We promise. We won't joke about such things anymore. But the point stands, your mother and I have the most chance of survival at High Tide and it's the principle of the matter besides. We are the heads of the family, the Lord and Lady of High Tide, it is our responsibility to see this through to the end. Understood?" his father said, making it clear that there was no room for debate.

"Yes Father," Jace and his siblings all answered, cowed.

"Good," he said. "Now all that remains is for us to inform our allies and decide who goes where. Mysaria, you are dismissed. Once you leave this meeting, please relate to our Conches in Castle Celtigar, Gulltown, and Runestone, to inform our allies that they have to evacuate Westeros immediately, if not to the Triarchy itself than to Pentos and Braavos at least. Offer them our help in relocating their assets and families and extend our old promise of peerage in the Triarchy. We don't know if the Targaryens will act against them or not but even if they don't there's no harm in them waiting out the war in Essos until it's safe for them to return to their homes."

"As you will Your Excellency," Mysaria said as she and her lieutenants bowed and took their leave. Once they had departed, they hashed out the final deployments of their family's dragons.

As planned earlier, Rhaelle and Krythax would head to Velos with all of the younger children and dragons in their family on board Malentine's fleet. Jacaerys would lead Baela, Rhaena, Laena, Corlys the Younger, and Serra to Tyrosh, riding Tessarion, Moondancer, Morning, Shrykos, Telarion, and Starflame respectively. His mother Viserra, with his father Corlys riding in the saddle behind her would ride Dreamfyre and lead Lucerys and Morghul, Daeron and Terrax, Baelor and Aegion, Daemon and Saffyre, and Jaenara and Urrax to Driftmark, with Lucerys given command of the other four if and when the time for them to fly hard south from Driftmark came.

They rested and feasted that night, making merry and spending what might very well be their last days as a whole family together. There was much mirth and laughter and joy and Jace dreaded to think of how it might all soon end.

The next morning, they saw off Rhaelle and the others at the docks, tearfully saying their goodbyes and final farewells to them as Malentine's fleet set sail. It was not the last of their farewells. Soon after that, the twelve remaining dragonriders in the family stood in the courtyard of the Ocean Manse with each of their dragons saddled and ready to leave at any moment.

More tearful farewells and good luck wishes followed, but the most tearful and somber goodbyes of all was that between Jace and his siblings and their parents. Jace hugged his brothers firmly and let them go to say goodbye to their wives while his parents came to him.

"The next time we see each other, we'll be celebrating our victory over the Targaryens," his father said with a confident smile. "You don't need to worry about a thing, between your mother and I, we'll be sure to give the Targaryens a bloody nose and fly to join you all afterward."

Jace knew it was a lie, his parents were the only ones not wearing their standard Valyrian steel plate armor sets with inbuilt wingsuits. All they had brought with them were external parachutes. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to call them out on it.

On the surface his parents seemed so strong and confident, the sterling examples they had been to him his whole life, the Sea Snake and the Sea Dragon, one of the most legendary and feared pairs in the world. If anyone could make it out of this, they could. But even legends could fall. Jace wanted to remember his parents as they were now, the proud and larger than life figures he had admired all his life. He really didn't know what he'd do if he confronted them and they broke down or hesitated in any way.

To Jace's surprise, his father took out a book from his coat and pressed it into his hands. "What's this?" he asked.

"It's the last volume of my memoirs. I finally finished them," his father answered.

Unable to resist his curiosity, Jace made to open the book but his father stopped him. "No. We're both about to go to war. You'd have too many questions and there's no time for me to answer them now. Let's save it for when we're both victorious alright?"

Confused about his father's behavior, Jace nodded. What his father did next however, surprised all of them even more. He unstrapped Riptide from where it had hung on his belt and never left it for almost fifty years and handed it to Jace. Jace looked up to his father, lost for words. He should have expected it; why would his parents risk their house losing even the tiniest fraction of Valyrian steel? Yet it just made it so much more real.

"Father… I, I'm-"

"Worthy of it," his father said firmly. "You have accomplished almost everything that you sought out to do, you surpassed me long ago. For eleven years you have ruled the Triarchy Jace. You're ready. You already have the Driftwood Throne. It's time you had Riptide as well."

Humbled and not even knowing what to say or think, Jace struggled to strap Riptide to his belt alongside Seafang, his mother stepping in to help him. His father spoke again, and Jace looked up to see him struggling not to choke on his words.

"I just… I want you to know Jace that I'm so very proud of you. I couldn't have asked for a better son, a better heir. I really couldn't have. You've made me so proud to see the wise man and ruler, the loving and responsible father and older brother you've grown up to be, and I know that when it's your time to lead our family in truth and not just practice, you'll be even greater than you are now."

His mother agreed with his father. "You've done so very well darling," she told him as she pulled him into a hug, one his father soon joined. Jace had to hold back his tears in his parents' embrace, feeling like a young boy again for one last moment.

All too soon, his parents pulled away and mounted Dreamfyre, and Luke, Daeron and the others did the same with their dragons. Dreamfyre roared loudly and took off riding hard north to Pentos and then Driftmark, with five dragons in tow.

A dark corner of his mind whispered that this might be the last time he'd ever see the Blue Queen or the precious passengers she bore, the last time he ever embraced his parents. He crushed the thought and steeled himself for the task at hand. There was no more time for thoughts, only actions.

"Velaryons!" he called out to his five riders behind him. "Mount up!"

Within minutes all six of them had mounted their dragons and with a shouted command to their dragons and a crack of their whips, they were off, bound for Tyrosh… and war.

___________________________________

The Clubfoot

King's Landing was a pit of snakes, a den of skullduggery and intrigue. A fitting place for him, the Clubfoot. He still lamented to think of it, that a simple accident at birth had so twisted his leg and taken away so much that he could have been. Yet ultimately he had decided to hone what little remained and made it as fearsome as could be, and that was how he had learned that the mind was greater than any warrior could ever be.

He was fond of his elder brother Harwin, he was a good and kind brother and would make a capable enough Lord of the Great Fork when their time passed and had served admirably as Lord Commander of the City Watch ever since Prince Daemon had gone to Dorne. But Larys knew Harwin was not suited to the subtler parts of the great games of power played in the world. Neither really was his father Lyonel, the Lord Hand, even if he was far more attuned to the game than Harwin was. But that was all well and good. His uncrippled father and brother would leave him without a role in life if they were as good as he was with intrigue and he was grateful that they were not.

House Strong of Great Fork was doing quite well for itself if Larys was being honest. Though he himself had never wed, for few ladies would give their affections to a clubfoot, his elder brother had, to a Thorne, and they'd had a nice little litter of strong sons and daughters. His father was the Hand of the King, his brother Commander of the City Watch, and Larys himself the Master of Whisperers. They were high in the favor of House Targaryen and it had reaped them many rewards.

And so, that was why, regardless of his own personal misgivings about the rather lacking intelligence of the Targaryens, Larys would do his duties with all of the skill and efficiency and beyond that was expected of his status and position. Of course, you'd be a fool to mistake this sentiment for any true loyalty to the Red Dragons on his part, it was simply self-serving, he would admit that in the privacy of his own mind.

For a clubfoot he lived a luxurious and lavish life that would be the envy of any smallfolk and while the ladies might not give him their affections, the affection of whores could be bought and he had money aplenty for those baser human needs. And so to keep his status and his wealth and to continue aiding his family (self-serving he might be but he did have some traces of filial love and loyalty), Larys would serve the Targaryens and he would protect them, even from themselves.

Unfortunately, they made that task much harder than it should be. The Targaryens' arrogance and increasingly insular behavior had won them little friends and many enemies. Larys had had to request more funding to expand his spy network at least a dozen times in the past ten years, using them to great extent to find and expose many threats to his benefactors. There was a long, long list. Essosi informants, eavesdroppers with links to various nobles, and the occasional assassination plot that would see the perpetrators hunted down and dealt with brutally once he gave the information to the Targaryens.

Despite his success however, for many years now, Larys had felt that something was off. King's Landing was a pit of vipers at the best of times yet for many years, he had felt like there was a cobra lurking in the shadows, growing stronger and more dangerous and yet slipping through his fingers every time he tried to catch even a hint of its presence.

It could not hide from him forever though. He could sense its presence; he could smell its stench. Its existence was obvious to the experienced eye who knew where to look. Hidden places in the city and the Red Keep used by spies, informants disappearing or suddenly giving false information, secret gatherings and indecipherable codes.

Whatever this cobra was, it was beyond anything that Larys had ever encountered. It was almost like an entire army hidden in the shadows, with resources, training, and organization that was beyond any spy ring Larys had ever fought against and exposed in the shadows. It reminded him almost of the guilds of assassins in Essos, with their talents used for spying rather than just killing, but it felt like this force, this cobra, was beyond even the skills and resources of those murderous guilds.

And he had a suspicion about who this cobra answered to. When you slinked in the shadows and dealt with the darkness, the absence of something was more suspicious than its presence. In his entire tenure as Master of Whisperers, Larys had encountered at least one spy or informant of some kind from almost every major noble house in Westeros and almost all the Essosi cities from the Narrow Sea to the Sarne.

Rather conspicuously however, he had never found a single asset that he could determine without a doubt had any connection, however so slight, to the Velaryons and the Triarchy they ruled. A less inexperienced and amateurish spymaster might assume this to mean that the Velaryons had no spies in King's Landing. An eminence in shadow like Larys knew this meant that they did without a doubt, and that made it all the more worrying because they knew how to hide their tracks.

There was no possible outcome in which the Velaryons truly had no spies in King's Landing, not when they and the Targaryens had been bitter rivals for decades and now stood on the brink of war with the death of King Aemon and the ever escalating tensions in the Summer Isles. Knowing they existed to begin with was most of the job done normally, for spies worked best when you did not know they were there.

This Velaryon cobra however had proved no less elusive even when he had come to the conclusion that it must exist. Still Larys thought that he was close, so very close to a breakthrough. Though he still could not reliably prove that they had any connection to the Velaryons, he had discovered and dismantled many assets and hidden caches of supplies. They looked completely unrelated at a first glance, but Larys' trained eye could tell they were connected to each other and at this point he was certain only the Velaryons could give these kinds of resources to their spies in the city given how efficiently he had destroyed all the other spy rings save theirs.

He hadn't told the Queen of course, not yet. With how… sensitive she was in regards to the Velaryons, Larys feared that in her rage, the Queen would start a war prematurely before they had the information they needed. Nay, best to keep it to himself until they had proof. And with any luck, today would be the day he finally got that proof.

Perhaps it had become desperate over the years as war seemed increasingly inevitable between its masters and the Targaryens, perhaps it had finally allowed itself to become overconfident after eluding him for so long, but it had finally, finally made a mistake, and one that Larys would be glad to take advantage of.

In its arrogance, the cobra had infiltrated his own network of spies. His creation, his kingdom, his pride. And that was a slight he could not let go unanswered. The cobra would be punished for its arrogance, and it would be sweet indeed.

With a nod to his brother, Larys sent in the gold cloaks to drag out his traitorous and compromised spy and whoever he was meeting with. The house they were meeting in was nondescript and blended in well to not draw attention, and the traitor had done well to hide as he had approached it, but Larys had been the one to teach him all that he knew. Or at least he thought he had, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Within moments, they dragged out both the traitor and his handler and Larys got a good look at the enemy spy. He didn't recognize his face, not that he expected to. It was plain, average, the kind that would not draw any attention, especially if the man acted unseemly. His clothes were not much better either, not outright rags but no finery either. If one did not know better, they might dismiss him as any simple slum rat, but Larys did know better.

"Good day, my little cobra," Larys said with a smirk.

"Cobra? I'm no cobra m'lord," the spy said, his face full of fear and uncertainty. How much of it was real and how much of it was faked to try and create the illusion of a scared but ordinary townsman Larys wondered.

His smile widened. "Interesting. I wouldn't normally think that anyone looking like he crawled out from Flea Bottom would know what a cobra is. They're not exactly native to Westeros."

As if realizing his mistake, the spy retracted. "I don't m'lord. Whatever it is I just know I'm not it. Please just let me go. I was just meeting with me friend here. I don't know what's going on!"

"And that was exactly your mistake. This man is, or rather was one of my spies, and he has no friends but the ones I tell him to make. You are not on that list, and that could only mean one thing. Take them away."

It was a shame honestly. He had quite liked the traitor. He had been very obedient and talented, taking extremely well to his tutelage, following orders unquestioningly, and often showing remarkable initiative, traits which had enabled him to climb very high indeed within Larys' inner circle. The perfect spy. Too perfect. Larys had always thought that there was no such thing as perfection. He had started wondering if there was something more to this perfect agent of his when he had shown just a little too much insight on certain cases, cases that Larys had suspected had links to the cobra he was hunting. Almost as if he was trying to direct him away from something. Or someone.

He had no concrete evidence but he had his instincts. Rather conveniently he was the Master of Whisperers and Lord Confessor both, giving him oversight over the Black Cells and when combined with his position on the Small Council, the power to apprehend and sharply question anyone he deemed suspicious to get the evidence he needed. He was not allowed to execute them sadly, but if they died stubbornly resisting their questioning, well that was just unfortunate now wasn't it? Not that he would be letting either of these two die, not this time, he was far too interested in what they had to confess to let them rest.

It was the middle of the night and the Queen was already asleep. There was no need to wake her up and trouble her with such matters, he would leave that for the morning. He doubted that there would be all that much his traitorous subordinate could give them… unless he had never been his at all but had instead been planted by the cobra from the beginning; that could not be ruled out at this point. Whatever the truth was, he handed him over to the other confessors to get any information out of him they could, no matter how little. He kept the main prize for himself though. It was time to skin a cobra.

As menacingly as he could, Larys stalked into the dark and damp cell where the cobra had been kept and saw him whimpering in the corner. Once again he wondered if that was genuine fear at this point or if the cobra was really that good of a spy to act out such a convincing ruse. Either way, he'd find out soon enough.

"Get up," he said coldly.

The spy did not answer him, still continuing to whimper and cry, already bruised and injured from the rough way the gold cloaks had dragged him into the Black Cells. Clucking his tongue, Larys' confessor subordinates beat the man up more and stripped him naked before forcing him into the metal chair in the center of the room and chaining him to it tightly.

There were some very fun tortures they would do with that chair sometimes, they'd put a fire underneath and let it slowly heat up the chair until it was unbearably hot, letting their victim's skin blister and melt into the very metal and keep going until they gave in. Ah memories, perhaps they'd try that later if he proved stubborn.

"Tell me… do you know why you are here?" Larys asked sweetly.

The little cobra trembled. "No m'lord. I don't. Please! This is all just a misunderstanding! I don't have any secrets!"

"No secrets you say? Well, we'll see about that," he said as he turned his back and walked over to the table in the corner. In full view of his prisoner, he moved his hand ever so delicately over each and every tool, letting the suspense and fear build up in his victim.

Would he take the mallet and break his bones? Set the chair on fire and let his skin melt into it? Stuff a rag over his head and into his mouth and pour some water over him to make him think he's drowning? Take the tongs and pull out his nails and teeth or use the crude cutters and painfully tear off his fingers and toes, one by one?

Finally, he chose none of them, his hand resting instead on a small and seemingly ordinary knife. A closer glance revealed that its design was perfect for its purpose, having a curved blade that was affixed to the hilt at an ever so slight incline. Perfect, for burrowing under skin and slowly, so painfully slowly, peeling it away and exposing the flesh below.

Picking the knife up, he turned around and stalked toward his prisoner. "Do you know what this is little cobra?"

Perhaps for the first time since he had caught him, the man finally flinched and showed genuine fear. "No," he choked out but Larys could see the truth in his eyes. He knew exactly what it was, might have even used it himself during his time as a spy.

Still, Larys let him keep his pretenses a little longer. After all, he was only being considerate. Soon the little cobra would be able to hide nothing at all from him.

"Allow me to enlighten you then. There is a certain infamous house from the North with a saying I particularly admire. They say that a naked man has few secrets; a flayed man, none," Larys said cruelly before he placed the knife on the man's arm and got to work.

Slice a little, slide the blade beneath the surface as far as it would go, and then peel. Do it over, and over again, just like skinning a pig. He even had some music to entertain him as he worked! The man's screams that is. Silly little man, cobras don't scream.

______________________________________

Rhaenys

"Why have you gathered us here Rhaenys?" Daemon asked as he and everyone else took their seats. Rhaenys had summoned all of the adult and near adult dragonriders in the family for a private meeting, without the Small Council and without any other lords and interlopers present. Just her, the Queen, and her dragonriders, Viserys, Aegon, Rhaenyra, Aemond, Visenya, Viserys the Younger, Jaehaerys, Helaena, Daemon, and Gael.

Three weeks had passed since her father had died and the lords of the realm had started to gather in King's Landing for his funeral and for her coronation shortly after. Rhaenys meant to use this gathering of the nobility to back her ultimatum to the Velaryons. After so long, after years of waiting and planning, she finally had the power to rein in the Velaryons like she had long wished and there was not a moment to waste.

The Velaryons already outnumbered them, with twenty-five dragons against their seventeen. With every passing year, their children and dragons grew older and stronger and there would come a point in the not so distant future when they could not hope to stop the Velaryons no matter what they did, not even if they invaded Westeros and sought to destroy them.

They had to act now, and if Rhaenys wanted the realm to back her, she had to make sure her own house was in order first. Unfortunately, it looked like that would be easier said than done she thought, looking at how unimpressed Daemon and Gael were. Perhaps they had already guessed the intentions for her meeting. How much things had changed, there had once been a time when Daemon and Gael would have been the ones trying to convince her to act against the Velaryons and now they had been thoroughly defanged. If that had been her father's intentions when had arranged the match between the twins, he had succeeded.

"I've gathered you all here because we need to talk about something of the utmost importance. The Velaryons. For decades my father and our grandfather let them get away with all of their insulting nonsense. Conquering Tyrosh, flagrantly defying our house and our sanctions, further expanding their territories with destabilizing wars and conquests in Essos and doing and getting who knows what from the Basilisk Isles. For decades we have let them prance around like they are our equals and not our vassals and servants, letting them grow in power and pride and if we do nothing they will soon surpass it entirely if they haven't already. We need to act. And we need to act now."

Her husband and daughter looked fully supportive of her words, her son looked a little hesitant but he steeled his resolve and nodded as well. Rhaenys was glad to see it. In the first few years after his falling out with Daeron and Laena Velaryon, Aegon had been even more passionate about reining in the Velaryons than she had been but the years had inevitably cooled his tempers and Rhaenys had feared, his resolve as well. Luckily it seemed that wasn't the case.

Unfortunately, Daemon, Gael, and their daughter all looked a lot more apprehensive and their son Jaehaerys was torn between his parents and sisters and his older brother and mentor Aegon and his wife Rhaenyra. It was Gael that spoke finally.

"Rhaenys, what do you even intend to do?" she asked. "You've talked so much about reining in the Velaryons for years but what does that even entail? How do you hope to even enforce your will on them at this point?" she said.

"I'm glad you asked Gael," Rhaenys replied. "I have been thinking about it for a long time indeed. I'm open to suggestions, but the key ideas that I have come to are as such. House Velaryon will internally divide its domains between Corlys Velaryon's three sons. The division will be along the three major cities in the Triarchy, with the line of each brother receiving one of Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr each. Driftmark will be given to one of those lines, depending on how the division goes, same for the Basilisk Isles and Velos and Viserria. Bloodstone and Massey's Hook will be relinquished to the Iron Throne and all three Velaryon lines will swear fealty to the Crown.

"The line of each brother? Not the brothers themselves?" her daughter Rhaenyra asked curiously.

"I am considering demanding that Corlys, Viserra, and all four of their children surrender themselves to our custody and submit to a trial. Depending on the verdict of that trial, the brothers' sons may be taking up their domains not the brothers themselves."

"A trial? Under what grounds?" Helaena asked.

"Treason," Rhaenys retorted coldly. "We have suspected for many years that House Velaryon was involved in orchestrating the Iron Revolt in 120 in order to exploit our distraction and carry out their Triunification. This is an act of high treason. Not to mention all these years that they have spent flagrantly breaking the King's Peace to conquer foreign lands, defying our authority, undermining our more loyal vassals with their absurd alliances. The Velaryons have been treasonous and disloyal and they must be judged for it.

"House Targaryen must have just recompense for their treason. I think that giving us wards and reparations in the form of monies, Valyrian steel, and any Gogossi secrets they have uncovered would go a long way in repairing the relations between our houses. In time, perhaps we might look into intermarriages again.

"My main goal with all of these demands is to divide and weaken House Velaryon so that their dragon advantage over us is less apparent. With increased wealth and prestige from their reparations, we will be in a more even position and with Corlys and his wife and children removed, Baela and Rhaena still influencing their children, wards that will grow up here in King's Landing, and potential intermarriages again in the future, we might absorb House Velaryon and make them an extension of ourselves as my dear late father once proposed many years ago."

Daemon almost started laughing. Rhaenys glared at him but he did not back down, his laugh fading away to reveal a grim glare. "Do you even hear yourself Rhaenys? What is this ludicrous ultimatum you are proposing? Who would accept this tell me? Would you? Would any of us? Certainly the Velaryons won't. This is the kind of demand you enforce on useless lords and peasants, not on a house of dragonlords! A house that may I remind you, has more dragons than we do?"

"That is why we have to act now Daemon! Now while we still have the slimmest of advantages. My father dithered and delayed for too long and because of him we are in this situation now but we still have a chance! The Velaryons have more dragons yes, but ours are larger and stronger and I doubt they will risk their children's lives in combat. With the likes of Vhagar, Vermithor, Silverwing, Meleys, Caraxes, and the Cannibal on our side, we can still do this and we must before the Velaryon children and their dragons all grow up and they destroy us!"

"You have no proof that they seek to destroy us!" Gael protested.

"I have all the proof that I need! Don't let your sentimental attachments to your eldest daughters blind you Gael! Were you and Daemon not the ones who spent years convincing me about how much of a threat the Velaryons were? Has that all changed now simply because your daughters have married into that house? Are they not still the same house that flagrantly defied our own for decades? The same ambitious and power-hungry house with an insatiable lust for more and more lands? The house that is constantly and incessantly growing their power in breach of our laws? The Velaryons are still the house that did the Triunification, that have made themselves our equals and challenged our authority and our right to rule. The same house whose navy even now is provoking us by harassing and attacking our vassals in the Summer Isles!"

"And if you send this ultimatum Rhaenys, they will reject it! At that point our only option is to back down and look even weaker than we already do or go to war! Is that what you want? Is that what you're really after making such an unacceptable ultimatum?" Daemon demanded.

Rhaenys' response was cool and measured. "The fact of the matter is that we have been at war with the Velaryons in all but name for decades now and it is time that we acknowledged it. If open war is what it takes to make them stop, to humble them, to weaken them so that House Targaryen may be preserved and protected, then so be it."

There was a stare down in the room for several moments after that, Daemon and Gael continued to glare at her and Rhaenys refused to relent while everyone else looked on nervously, too afraid to intervene. Finally, Daemon slammed his fist on the table loudly.

"No," he said firmly. "Think again. Come up with some other plan, a better one, I don't care what. I refuse to back this ultimatum. Dorne refuses to back it," he declared, looking sternly at his son Jaehaerys to make sure he towed the line.

"Are you refusing your queen Daemon?" Rhaenys demanded, furious.

"You're not even crowned yet Cousin and I've sworn no oaths of fealty to you yet. I see no queen," Daemon dared to say.

A dangerous air hung in the room then and the other members of their family, including her husband Viserys, began trying to calm them down and mediate the dispute. Before anything else could happen however, there was a furious flurry of knocks on the door that they barely had time to react to before the Master of Whisperers, Larys Strong barged into the room.

"What is the meaning of this interruption Lord Larys? I left explicit instructions that we were not to be disturbed! How did you get the past the Queensguard!?" she demanded, turning her fury on the interloper.

Larys Strong did not flinch. "Because I bear dire news that is of the utmost importance to the safety of the Royal Family! Heed my words or perish!" he cried out and Rhaenys begrudgingly gave him leave to speak.

"Your Grace, my princes and princesses, late last night my brother and I seized custody of a spy in the city and I have been personally questioning him since. Sharply."

"Why was I not informed of this?" Rhaenys demanded.

"Forgive me Your Grace. You were asleep and we catch spies all the time. I wished to report to you only when I had the information I needed and I believe I was right to prioritize his interrogation. He has not fully broken yet, but the information he has already given up is terrifying enough. Right now, at this very moment, there are hundreds of spies working with this little cobra across the city and inside this very keep. Servants, cooks, maids, guards, even within my own spies. And they are ready to kill the Small Council and the Royal Family at a moment's notice, to slit our throats in the night, poison us at dinner, or kill Your Grace and your family as you move to retrieve your dragons. The preparations have been made and they can strike at any time, all they are waiting for is the order," Larys whispered, looking terrified for once and that unnerved Rhaenys more than she was willing to admit. Larys Strong was never terrified.

"Whose order?" she asked, but in her heart she already knew the answer.

Larys Strong's reply was not loud, but it was deafening nonetheless. "House Zaldilaros Velaryon."

Immediately there was chaos in the room. Everyone started shouting and panicking.

"Baela and Rhaena wouldn't do this!" Helaena shouted, distraught and in denial.

"Do you think they have the power to stop it?" Rhaenyra mocked.

"Are the children at risk!?" Viserys demanded of the Lord Confessor.

"We have to break this spy and purge all his accomplices immediately! Our safety is dependent on it!" Jaehaerys cried.

Daemon and Gael were silent however, as if in shock, and Rhaenys knew that she had them. "Silence!" she barked and the other Targaryens quieted down. Rhaenys stared at her previously defiant cousin and aunt. "I told you didn't I? I told you that they sought to destroy us. I told you that we were already at war with them and we needed to acknowledge it! You wouldn't listen and now look at us! Our worst fears have come true! They have the preparations to kill us all with a word!"

"But Baela and Rhaena…" Gael protested weakly.

"Have clearly made their choice if they are willing to approve and abet an assassination order against all of us. They're not family anymore, they're enemies," Rhaenys said coldly.

A sudden realization came to her son then it seemed. "Mother, the Velaryons are ready to attack aren't they? For years it's just been Corlys and Viserra in Driftmark, but ever since Grandfather died, we noticed that there were six dragons there not one and six in Tyrosh as well instead of Myr. Why now?"

A sinking pit formed in Rhaenys' stomach. "They're ready to attack us on multiple fronts. In a sudden surprise attack, they could cripple our family with their assassins even if not all of us perish and Blackwater Bay, the Stormlands, and Dorne would all burn under their onslaught. This could be the end of House Targaryen," she said, haunted.

She noticed the downcast and worried faces of her family and she knew that as their queen she had to life their spirits. "But will we go gently into the night? Will we, the last scions of Valyria, the last true dragonlords in the world allow ourselves to be destroyed and usurped by these upstart pretenders!?"

"Nay!" most of her family chorused.

"Nay indeed! We will fight! And we only stand a chance of winning if we all fight," she said pointedly, staring at Daemon and Gael.

Humbled, they bowed their heads before her. "What are your orders, my queen?" Daemon asked.

Rhaenys would have smiled normally seeing her recalcitrant cousin acknowledge her authority, but this was no moment to gloat. There was a crisis on her hands. "Lock down the city, no one enters and no one leaves. Lord Confessor, break that spy. I want to know everything he knows and I want to know it as soon as possible. You and your brother and father have full power to purge every man, woman, and child in the Red Keep and King's Landing to find these spies."

The Master of Whisperers bowed in acknowledgement of his orders.

Turning back to her family, Rhaenys continued, "Viserys, Aegon, and I will fly the rest of you and the children to the Dragonpit to retrieve our family's dragons and we will keep all of them here in the keep, even if we have to stuff them into the bloody godswood."

"We can't all stay in the Red Keep. It's not safe for us here with these assassins about," Viserys warned.

Rhaenys nodded, her husband was right. "I agree. We will need to deploy dragonriders to our other fiefs and for those who remain here, we will need to quadruple the guard and keep the children secured in the royal apartments. Cupbearers, food tasters, and a permanent shadow are no longer just precautions but necessities and we should double, no triple our focus on them to make sure any infiltrators cannot strike!"

"Why don't we just attack Driftmark with our full force gathered here in King's Landing?" Helaena asked.

Rhaenys made to answer but Helaena's brother beat her to it. Shaking his head, Jaehaerys spoke. "If we all attack Driftmark we leave our fiefs in the south to the tender mercies of the Tyroshi half of House Velaryon. Even with a number advantage we would take casualties and injuries attacking Driftmark while Jacaerys and his band would be uninjured and fresh, free to maraud and burn the Stormlands and Dorne as they please."

"Jaehaerys is right," Rhaenys declared. "Our only chance is to split up to defend our fiefs and strike hard against both Driftmark and Tyrosh as soon as we can while the momentum is still on our side. As soon as this meeting is done, Larys will inform the Small Council to begin the lockdown and the purge and continue questioning the prisoner. We will also need to send an order to the Great Sept of Jaehaerys for the High Septon to prepare for a coronation ceremony by noon. We will need the legitimacy and the fealty from my crowning to call the banners and rally the realm behind us against this barbarity and treason of the Velaryons."

Her son nodded. "I concur. All that's left now then is for us to decide who goes where."

As they discussed the deployment of their dragons, Rhaenys dismissed Larys to see to his orders and update the Small Council while one of her family's household guard was dispatched posthaste to the Great Sept to inform the High Septon to prepare for the coronation.

After a long round of intense discussion, they finally concluded on their deployments and their plans for the war. Her husband Viserys, daughter Rhaenyra, and grandson Viserys the Younger would take their dragons Silverwing, Seasmoke, and Arrax to Storm's End while Daemon, Aegon, and Jaehaerys would take Vermithor, Sunfyre, and Tyraxes to Summerhall in Dorne.

The reasoning for the split was to spread out and protect as much of their territory as possible. Daemon and Jaehaerys insisted on defending Dorne which they had worked so hard to rebuild and Rhaenys refused to let her mother's castle burn and had entrusted its protection to her husband and daughter.

The distance between Tyrosh and Storm's End was roughly the same as that of the difference between Tyrosh and Summerhall. If they all left their respective castles at the same time, sunrise, they should converge on Tyrosh at the same time despite their split. If anything went awry with the plan, the survivors at least would be able to defend their assigned region and deter Jacaerys and his dragonriders from an attack after the losses they would have incurred fighting whoever reached first. A good compromise Rhaenys felt, even if the risk to her family's lives did not sit well with her.

Rhaenys herself would remain in King's Landing alongside Helaena, Gael, Visenya, and Aemond. Between the five of them they had Meleys, Stormcloud, Syrax, Vermax, and Vhagar. They should be able to both hold King's Landing and prosecute an assault on Driftmark, especially if the children helped. While awfully young, the children would all be staying in the Red Keep as well and many of them had large dragons, like Maelor's Nightfyre, Gaemon's Grey Ghost, and Elaena's Caraxes. The largest of them all was nearly as large as Vhagar herself; Aelyx's Aegarax, still known as the Cannibal to most.

It pained Rhaenys to rely on the children so much and to deploy Helaena and Rhaenyra to war considering how inexperienced they were, but they didn't have a choice. Abandoning Dragonstone weighed on her mind as well but Driftmark was between them and the island, they had no possible way to reinforce the island. She knew Dragonstone would likely burn in the battles that were coming but she reminded herself that the fortress proper at least, if not the island, was impervious to dragonfire.

After they attended her coronation, the six dragonriders deployed to Storm's End and Summerhall would wolf down a quick lunch and then fly hard throughout the afternoon and past nightfall if necessary to reach their assigned castles. They would rest for the night and when morning came they would strike with the element of surprise at the same time that Rhaenys and her own force attacked Driftmark.

With any luck they would destroy House Velaryon before they destroyed them. Whatever the outcome though, when the sun rose on the morrow, the war between the Sea Dragon and the Red would begin, and the world would hold its breath.