The future awaits!

The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the western horizon as Daeron and Jason rode through the streets of Lannisport. The city, bustling with traders, craftsmen, and sailors, spread out before them in a display of wealth and industry. Unlike the cold, imposing grandeur of Casterly Rock, Lannisport felt alive—a city of gold not just in coin but in spirit.

Jason reined in his horse at a scenic overlook, gesturing to the harbor below. "Beautiful, isn't it? Our pride and joy. We control the trade in the western seas, from Oldtown to the Arbor, even some dealings with Braavos."

Daeron surveyed the ships below, watching as longshoremen unloaded cargo and merchants haggled in the bustling market square. "A city like this has potential beyond what it is now," he mused. "Have you ever considered expanding your reach across the Narrow Sea?"

Jason shot him a curious look. "To Essos? We've dabbled in trade there, but not as extensively as the Free Cities do. Braavos holds most of the influence in that regard. Why?"

Daeron leaned forward slightly. "Because I can offer you something better—direct trade relations with Pentos. I have control over the city, its fleets, its wealth. We can establish a profitable route between Lannisport and Pentos, bypassing some of the middlemen and ensuring more gold flows into your family's coffers."

Jason rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That... is an interesting proposal. It could be an excuse for me to oversee trade in Essos without raising suspicion. But there's a problem." He exhaled, shaking his head. "The pirates of the Stepstones. They constantly raid merchant ships, cutting into profits and making the journey dangerous. If we move too many valuable goods, they'll take notice."

Daeron smirked. "That won't be a problem for much longer."

Jason's gaze sharpened. "You say that with a certainty that makes me nervous."

Daeron chuckled. "Let's just say... I have plans for the Stepstones. Soon, their hold on the shipping lanes will be broken. When that happens, trade will flourish. You'd be wise to have your fleets ready by then."

Jason studied him carefully, the weight of those words sinking in. "That's... not something you say lightly. If what you're planning works, it would change everything. My father will need to hear about this."

"Tell him what you need to," Daeron replied, leaning back casually. "But when the time comes, you'll want to be the one making the decisions. Trade with Pentos would put Lannisport leagues ahead of Oldtown and even give King's Landing a reason to pay attention."

Jason exhaled, his mind clearly racing with possibilities. Then, after a moment, he smirked. "Alright, let's say this all happens. What about you? What are your plans in Westeros?"

Daeron turned his gaze toward the sea. "I'll be leaving next year. There's still much to do in the east before I can return."

Jason grinned. "And here I was hoping you'd stay and stir things up a little. What about the rumors? People whisper of the 'Evil Prince' planning to conquer Westeros with his dragon. Surely, you won't leave without causing a little chaos? The lords will be so disappointed."

Daeron laughed. "Westeros is a single city compared to the vastness of Essos. Even without me, there will always be squabbling nobles stirring up war. I don't need to do anything." He glanced at Jason with amusement. "Besides, why would I waste my time here when I have an entire continent across the sea at my fingertips?"

Jason chuckled but then hesitated, his tone growing more serious. "I'll be honest with you, Daeron. We're friends, but House Lannister can't offer you much support—not openly. My father would never risk Casterly Rock in a foreign struggle. But what I can promise you is this—no matter what happens, as long as I live, we will never be enemies."

Daeron smiled and clapped Jason on the back. "You think too much, my friend. I've no plans to cause trouble—not for now, anyway. Especially since the royal family treats me like one of their own."

Jason nodded, relief evident in his expression. "Then here's to a future where we're not at each other's throats. And maybe, just maybe, to an adventure beyond Westeros one day."

Daeron smirked. "That, my friend, is a promise."

The golden halls of Casterly Rock were as grand and imposing as Daeron remembered, though he had spent the last few days growing accustomed to their splendor. Every corridor was lined with intricate tapestries depicting the triumphs of House Lannister, every chamber adorned with golden ornaments that reminded guests of the wealth and power the lions of the West commanded.

Despite its magnificence, Casterly Rock felt suffocating in a way Lannisport did not. Here, everything was politics and power—a battlefield of words and influence rather than swords and steel. And at the heart of it all sat Lord Tybolt Lannister, the aging ruler of the Westerlands.

Daeron was summoned to the Great Hall on his fourth day at the Rock. The chamber was a testament to Lannister wealth—pillars of gold-veined marble, an enormous golden lion statue looming over the chamber, and a high throne of gilded oak where Lord Tybolt sat. Though age had worn at him, Tybolt Lannister was still a commanding presence, his sharp golden eyes watching Daeron with curiosity and calculation.

Jason stood at his father's side, and though he gave Daeron a brief nod of encouragement, his expression was guarded.

"Prince Daeron of Pentos," Lord Tybolt began, his voice strong despite his years. "I've heard much about you, though I suspect half of it is embellished nonsense. Tell me, why does the ruler of a Free City seek audience with me?"

Daeron met his gaze evenly. "Because Lannisport stands at the edge of something greater than what it is now. You control trade in the western seas, but the real wealth lies across the Narrow Sea."

Tybolt raised a brow. "You suggest trading with Pentos? We already have dealings with Braavos, Tyrosh, and even Volantis when needed. What makes your offer any different?"

Daeron smiled. "Control. With me, you don't have to deal with the interference of Braavosi bankers or Tyroshi merchant-princes. I control Pentos—its fleets, its economy, its politics. A direct trade route would allow Lannisport to bypass those middlemen, ensuring your wealth increases without outsiders taking a share."

Tybolt stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A tempting proposition, but it carries risks. The Stepstones remain a threat to merchants, and any significant trade expansion will draw their attention."

Jason spoke up then. "Daeron has assured me that the pirates of the Stepstones won't be a problem for much longer. He has plans to deal with them."

Tybolt's eyes flickered with interest, though his expression remained unreadable. "Bold words. And what guarantee do I have that your 'plans' will succeed?"

Daeron smirked. "You'll know soon enough. But I will say this—by the time you finalize trade agreements, the Stepstones will no longer be a concern. And if you hesitate, another Free City will take your place as Pentos' primary trade partner."

Tybolt chuckled, a dry, knowing sound. "You remind me of a young lion trying to claim his first kill. Bold, ambitious, dangerous." He leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "I will not commit House Lannister to any agreement without careful thought. But… I am intrigued. If you can make good on your word about the Stepstones, we will have further discussions."

Jason grinned. "Father, you know this is the right move. The Rock is rich, but the world is growing, and we need to grow with it."

Tybolt exhaled through his nose, studying his son. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. Draw up the preliminary terms. If the situation in the Stepstones changes as you claim, we will move forward with the trade treaty."

Daeron inclined his head. "You won't regret it."

Tybolt chuckled again. "I rarely do, boy. But time will tell."

A week passed, and the day of Daeron's departure arrived. The preparations had been made, and his brief stay at Casterly Rock had proven fruitful. As he made his way to the courtyard where Acnologia awaited, Jason walked beside him, arms crossed.

"I must say, I'll miss the excitement of having you here," Jason remarked. "Now I'll have to find new ways to entertain myself."

Daeron smirked. "If that's your biggest concern, then I suppose my visit was a success."

Jason chuckled, but his expression grew serious. "I meant what I said before, Daeron. House Lannister can't openly support you, but as long as I live, we won't be your enemies. Whatever happens in the future, you'll always have a friend here."

Daeron clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And I'll remember that. But in the meantime, you should prepare yourself properly. It would be a shame if we went on an adventure together and you died by tripping and falling."

Jason scoffed and punched Daeron's arm, earning a laugh. "I'll be just fine, thank you. You should worry about yourself—you're the one playing a dangerous game."

Daeron smirked. "That's what makes it fun."

With that, he stepped toward Acnologia, who rumbled lowly in greeting. The great beast stretched his wings, ready for flight.

Jason took a step back. "Fly safe, my friend. And keep me informed about what happens in the capital, and if you need any help."

Daeron nodded, then climbed onto Acnologia's back. With a mighty beat of its wings, the dragon took off, soaring high above Casterly Rock. The wind rushed past Daeron as he gazed down at the castle and Lannisport beyond. It had been a productive visit, but now it was time to return to King's Landing.

Little did he know, much had changed in his absence.

As Acnologia flew toward the capital, King's Landing was no longer the city Daeron had left behind more than a year ago. The power struggles within the Red Keep had grown fiercer, whispers of betrayal and shifting alliances filling the halls. The queen's health had worsened with another pregnancy, and the court had become a viper's nest of intrigue.

Across the city, banners of different factions fluttered in the breeze. Some whispered that the Hand of the King had grown too powerful, others murmured of a prince growing more ambitious with each passing day. The balance of power teetered on the edge, and many wondered if war was inevitable.

And now, the 'Dragon Prince of Essos' was returning.

What would he find upon his arrival? And more importantly—what role would he play in the chaos to come?