Back at the snake pit

The winds howled as Acnologia descended over King's Landing, his mighty wings casting a great shadow over the city below. Daeron felt the familiar rush of excitement that came with flight, but it was tempered by anticipation. He had been away from Kingslanding for over a year, and much could change in that time.

As the Red Keep came into view, he noticed the increased presence of gold cloaks patrolling the streets. A sign of growing unrest? Perhaps. But there was only one way to find out.

Acnologia landed gracefully in the Dragonpit, sending a tremor through the ground. Dragonkeepers rushed forward, warily taking their positions to tend to the massive beast. Daeron dismounted smoothly, patting Acnologia's side before striding toward the castle.

By the time he reached the Red Keep, he was met by a familiar face—Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"Prince Daeron," Harrold greeted with a small smile. "It's good to see you return safely. The king has been expecting you."

"I imagine so," Daeron replied, matching his pace as they walked toward the royal chambers. "I trust things have been peaceful in my absence?"

Harrold's hesitation did not go unnoticed.

"As peaceful as one can expect in King's Landing," he said diplomatically. "But I believe the news you'll find most interesting is about Queen Aemma."

Daeron's brow arched. "What about her?"

Harrold's smile grew slightly. "She is with child."

Daeron stopped in his tracks. "Queen Aemma is pregnant?"

Harrold nodded. "It was announced a month ago. The entire court is abuzz with anticipation… and apprehension."

Daeron immediately understood the implications. Queen Aemma had suffered multiple miscarriages, and the chances of her delivering a healthy heir were uncertain. But if she did…

His mind raced. Time was running out. If Viserys didn't have a son, and the queen perished, the entire balance of power could shift. I believe this is where the games truly begin, he mused. He needed to act soon.

"Where is the king?" Daeron asked, resuming his stride.

"In his chambers. He will want to see you soon, but you may want to rest first," Harrold suggested.

"I'll consider it," Daeron replied, already calculating his next move.

That evening, Daeron secluded himself in his chambers, parchment and ink before him. He wrote swiftly, his words direct and precise:

Orlen 

The time has come. Raise our standing forces to 20,000 men. Gather ships. Begin preparations for the invasion of the Stepstones. Send words to Spartan and tell him to start stirring up some trouble that would affect Volantis.

I expect readiness within next year. The Narrow Sea must be secured, and with it, our control over trade and the wars to come .

Await further instructions upon completing this task. Also inform Daena that she should be more careful in the future; her well-being is more important than catching some rats.

Prince Daeron Penndragon

He sealed the letter with wax and handed it to a trusted courier. "Have this delivered to Pentos with all haste."

The man bowed and departed. With that done, Daeron exhaled slowly. The first step toward securing his power was in motion.

Meanwhile, within the halls of the Red Keep, whispers against Daeron had grown louder in his absence. Otto Hightower, ever the opportunist, had taken full advantage of his time away.

"He returns at this time, a ruler of a Free City, a prince with wealth, armies, and a dragon," Otto spoke smoothly before the Small Council.

"Is it not concerning that he builds his power far from the king's sight? And what of his private dealings with the lords of prominent houses? Left unchecked, this could tear the realm apart."

Lord Lyonel Strong, the Master of Laws, tapped his fingers against the table. "Prince Daeron has shown no sign of treason. He has never acted with bad intentions yet, and still calls King Viserys his family."

"And yet," Otto pressed, "he gathers men. Ships. One does not prepare for war without an enemy in mind."

Viserys, seated at the head of the table, sighed heavily. "Daeron is no traitor, Otto. He has no interest in the throne."

"For now," Otto countered. "But if Queen Aemma gives birth to another daughter, and Daeron sees the Iron throne without a proper heir… what then?"

Viserys's face darkened, and The room fell into a tense silence.

The next morning, Daeron found himself ambushed—or rather, greeted—by two familiar figures as he stepped into the castle courtyard.

"You're finally back!" Rhaenyra's voice rang out as she strode toward him, a bright grin on her face. "I was beginning to think you had abandoned Westeros entirely."

Daeron smirked. "Tempting, but I wouldn't want you to get too comfortable in my absence."

Alicent, standing slightly behind Rhaenyra, smiled politely but more reservedly. "It is good to see you again, Prince Daeron. King's Landing has been far duller without you."

"I imagine it has," he replied smoothly. "So, how have the two of you been?"

Rhaenyra's smile dimmed slightly. "Happy… but also nervous. My mother is with child again."

Daeron nodded. "Ser Harrold told me. You must be excited."

"I am," Rhaenyra admitted. "But I also remember the past. She has lost so many children… I don't want to lose her too."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Your mother is strong. And this time, she has even more people supporting her."

Alicent, meanwhile, remained quiet. Daeron noticed the way her hands clasped together, her expression troubled.

"You seem lost in thought, Lady Alicent," Daeron said casually.

She hesitated before shaking her head. "It's nothing. Just… some family matters."

Daeron studied her. He had learned to read people well over the years, and Alicent's mind was clearly burdened.

"Is it your father?" he guessed.

Alicent stiffened slightly, confirming his suspicion. "He has… been rather harsh recently," she admitted softly.

Daeron knew exactly what she meant. If Queen Aemma suffered another miscarriage—or worse—Otto would likely push Alicent forward as a potential queen. A marriage to Viserys would secure the Hightower's influence indefinitely.

"You don't have to blindly follow the path others set for you, Alicent," Daeron said gently. "Your life is your own."

He hoped that she won't become the bitter queen in the future, but he also knew it was something perhaps set in stone. Maybe fate has determined it to be. Not everyone gets a happy ending after all.

She looked at him then, searching his face for something—perhaps reassurance, perhaps understanding. Finally, she smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I hope that's true," she murmured.

Deciding that he had spent enough time in the Red Keep, Daeron suggested they take a tour of the city. Rhaenyra agreed immediately, eager to escape the suffocating castle walls, and Alicent reluctantly followed.

They walked through the bustling streets, Rhaenyra delighting in the sights and smells of King's Landing, while Alicent remained more subdued.

At one point, a street vendor called out, "Fresh roasted almonds, my lords and ladies!"

Rhaenyra immediately turned to Daeron. "Buy some for us."

Daeron raised a brow. "What, is the princess of the realm unable to purchase her own almonds?"

She huffed. "It's tradition. You've been away, so you have to pay tribute."

Alicent giggled softly.

Daeron sighed dramatically before tossing the vendor a silver stag. "Very well, but you owe me."

Rhaenyra popped an almond into her mouth and grinned. "Consider it a tax for your absence."

Daeron rolled his eyes, but a genuine smile played on his lips. It was good to be back.

Little did he know, the storm brewing in King's Landing was only just beginning.

The days in King's Landing passed quickly, filled with a mix of leisure and business. Daeron split his time between inspecting his growing trade hub and accompanying Rhaenyra and Alicent on their city excursions.

His trade empire had flourished in his absence, thanks to his carefully placed overseers. As he reviewed stacks of documents in his office, he couldn't help but admire the efficiency of his network. Goods flowed in from Pentos and other Free Cities, enriching the capital with exotic spices, fine silks, and rare materials. The profits were staggering.

"You should take a break," Rhaenyra commented, lounging on a cushioned seat nearby. She had made it a habit to drop by whenever Daeron buried himself in paperwork.

"Not all of us can afford to be reckless," Daeron replied dryly, scanning another ledger. "A strong foundation today means greater power tomorrow."

Alicent, sitting beside Rhaenyra, smiled lightly. "I think what she means is, you're too focused. You need to enjoy the present sometimes."

Daeron smirked. "I am enjoying myself. Watching these numbers rise is quite satisfying."

Rhaenyra groaned dramatically. "Gods, you're worse than the Maesters."

Daeron chuckled but set the papers aside. "Fine, fine. What do you suggest?"

"A ride through the city. We haven't been to the Street of Silk yet," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Alicent nearly choked on her tea. "Rhaenyra!"

Daeron laughed. "As entertaining as that would be, I doubt the realm is ready for that scandal."

Instead, they spent the afternoon riding through the streets, visiting bustling markets, and stopping by the docks where sailors told exaggerated tales of sea monsters and shipwrecks. It was a welcome reprieve from the weight of politics.

One evening, King Viserys called for a feast in the Great Hall, where he stood before the gathered nobles.

"It brings me great joy to share that Queen Aemma's pregnancy has progressed well," he announced, his voice brimming with emotion. "To celebrate the birth of my child, I have decided to host a grand tourney in King's Landing in three moons time!"

The hall erupted in cheers, nobles already whispering about the upcoming spectacle.

Daeron exchanged a glance with Rhaenyra. She smiled but still looked uncertain.

A tourney meant knights from all over the realm would gather. It was an event of prestige and celebration, but also of political maneuvering.

As the festivities continued, Daeron made his way toward the king.

"Your grace," he greeted, bowing slightly.

Viserys turned to him with a warm smile. "Daeron, my boy! What do you think? A fine way to honor my child's birth, yes?"

"A grand choice," Daeron said with a nod. "It will unite the realm in celebration."

Viserys beamed. "Good! I trust you'll be participating?"

Daeron chuckled. "Perhaps. But before that, I must make a short journey—to Driftmark."

Viserys tilted his head. "Driftmark?"

"I would like to bring the Velaryons to King's Landing for the tourney," Daeron explained. "A show of unity between our houses would only strengthen the realm."

Viserys nodded approvingly. "A fine idea. Go then, and bring my cousin and Lord Corlys to celebrate with us!"

The sea breeze greeted Daeron as he landed on Driftmark, Acnologia's great wings kicking up sand as he touched down near High Tide, the seat of House Velaryon.

Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys stood at the entrance, watching his descent with curiosity and pride.

"Welcome home, brother ," Rhaenys greeted, a warm smile on her face.

Corlys grinned. "I see you haven't let that beast of yours grow lazy."

Daeron smirked, patting Acnologia's side. "He gets enough exercise terrorizing my enemies."

After pleasantries were exchanged, they retired to Corlys's study, where a more serious conversation took place.

Daeron leaned forward, hands clasped. "I wanted to speak to you both about something important."

Corlys raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I'm planning to take the Stepstones," Daeron said bluntly.

Silence fell over the room. Then, to Daeron's surprise, Corlys let out a sharp laugh.

"You mad genius!" Corlys exclaimed, shaking his head. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words."

"The pirates are a menace," Daeron continued. "They threaten trade, raid our ships, and disrupt the Narrow Sea. Once we control the islands, we control the main trade routes."

Rhaenys, however, remained more reserved. "You speak of war, Daeron. That is no small undertaking."

"I'm aware," Daeron said. "Which is why I'm raising 20,000 men in Essos. When the time comes, we'll strike hard and fast."

Corlys nodded, already calculating. "If you succeed, you could turn the Stepstones into a trade hub. Pentos, Driftmark, and even Lannisport would benefit."

Daeron smirked. "Speaking of Lannisport… I may be bringing Jason Lannister with me to Essos."

Corlys frowned. "Jason Lannister?"

Rhaenys gave Daeron a pointed look. "You should not trust the Lannisters so easily, brother ."

Daeron nodded. "I don't trust the Lannisters—I trust Jason. He's proven himself as a friend. Until he gives me reason to think otherwise, I will treat him as one."

Rhaenys studied him for a moment before sighing. "Just be careful. The Lannisters think in gold and opportunity. If they see more value in betrayal, they will take it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Daeron assured her.

With the heavy matters discussed, the conversation shifted toward trade.

Daeron leaned back with a smirk. "So, Lord Corlys, I suppose you'd be interested in trade rights once we control the Stepstones?"

Corlys grinned. "Naturally. And since I've supported this idea for years, I assume my fleets will get priority access?"

Daeron feigned deep thought. "Hmm… I don't know. Maybe I should auction the rights to the highest bidder."

Corlys scoffed. "You'd extort your own family?"

"Only you, Lord of Tides," Daeron teased. "Besides, I need to make up for all those childhood lessons you made me suffer through."

Rhaenys laughed. "Careful, husband. My brother is more like you than you'd like to admit."

Corlys sighed dramatically. "I suffer too much. First, I raise a brilliant wife. Then, I raise a brilliant brother in law who wants to rob me of my own gold."

Daeron grinned. "And if I extort my dear good brother , my dear Sister will have me beaten. A tragedy, truly."

Corlys groaned. "Fine, fine. We'll discuss the specifics later. But I expect fair terms, boy."

Daeron smirked. "I'd never cheat you… too badly."

After a few more days in Driftmark, Daeron and the Velaryons set sail for King's Landing.

As he stood on the deck of the Sea Snake, the Red Keep looming in the distance, Daeron couldn't help but feel the weight of the future pressing upon him.

The tourney would be a grand spectacle, a great tragedy . But afterwards, that's when things will get more tragic. One thing was certain, war was coming.

** I'm gonna take a break from writing this week. I'm too tired working and writing. Not to mention every chapter, I see barely anybody commenting which gives me the feel of graveyard.

I am confused if people have left, or they feel this book ain't good. Not to mention all the hate I get for mistakes. If it's not good, I'll stop this. No point wasting my precious time after working 50 hours a week to write something nobody reads.

I honestly feel it's not worth it anymore. If I see there's still a lot of good folks reading this, might continue. You should understand this is hard work and time consuming, so it's not too much seek appreciation. Why would I write something racking my brain, then see the audience is less than the number of exes I had -__- **