Daeron the Great

The roar of Acnologia echoed through the sea as I approached Driftmark. The long flight had allowed me a brief respite from the weight of recent battles, yet my mind was abuzz with plans and promises. My retinue was already gathered on Driftmark's docks, their faces lit by the early morning sun and an eagerness borne of necessity and camaraderie. Today, we would prepare for the next journey in this precarious dance between life and death.

As soon as I landed, Cryston and Jason bounded toward me. Cryston, ever the optimist despite the scars of our previous ordeal, clapped me on the back with an enthusiasm that belied the gravity of our situation.

"My dear legendary Prince ," he said with a wide grin, "I still can't believe we made it out alive from that horror ! What's the plan now? Are we sailing soon before the next white walker pops out of the sea?"

Jason, with a dramatic groan that made even the hardened soldiers chuckle, added, "I'm tired of fighting for our lives and the journey has just begun . Let's at least get some proper ale and roast meat once we're out of Westeros!"

I laughed, shaking my head at their antics. "No rest yet, my friends. We set sail tomorrow, and tonight we must make our plans and sharpen as our blades. Our enemy is relentless, and we have little time to wallow in merriment."

Yet even as I spoke, I could not help but admire their unfailing humor amid despair—it was a rare light in these dark times.

Cryston's eyes twinkled. "Then we better be ready. I've double-checked the ships, and Lord Jason here even managed to polish his sword until it sparkled. It may not fire magic or ice , but they'll give the enemy something to think about!"

I clapped both of them on the shoulders. "Good. Rest well tonight you two, and prepare , for tomorrow the winds shall carry us across the narrow sea where my destiny awaits ."

Cryston muttered under his breath, " More like another bunch of beautiful women!" He turned his head away as I gave him a look.

After our lighthearted banter, I strolled away from the chambers, and made my way to the study room where Laenor and Laena awaited me.

My heart always softened at the sight of them—my nephew of fourteen, full of curious energy, and my niece Laena, only eleven, who carried both bravery and a hint of bashfulness befitting her years.

Laenor, with eyes bright as if daring the world to surprise him, greeted me first. "Uncle, tell us more of the North! Did you really see the white walkers? Were they as fearsome as the stories say?"

Laena, clinging to his arm, added softly, "I'm not scared, but I wish I could have a dragon like Acnologia. I want one so I can ride it and be as brave as you."

I ruffled Laenor's hair affectionately. "You both ask too many questions, little ones.

Yes, I fought white walkers—creatures of ice and death that threatened all we hold dear.

I have seen the Night King himself, his eyes blue and cold as the void. But fear not, for I have sworn to protect this realm and each of you with every breath in my body."

Laenor's eyes widened in amazement. "Show me, Uncle, show me how you fought them! Tell me the story of that night!"

I settled beside them, my voice lowering as I recounted the events in the North. I told them of the relentless waves of the undead, of wildling warriors who gave their lives with fierce abandon, and of the bitter chill that seemed to freeze time itself.

I described the chilling aura of the Night King and how FrostMourne, my enchanted blade, had glowed with a light of hope amid the darkness.

Laena listened intently, her face a mixture of awe and trepidation. "And you, Uncle," she piped up in a small, determined voice, "Will you help me get a dragon, so I can be strong and brave like you too?"

Her request was met with a warm smile from me .

"I promise, little one. One day, I will help you find a dragon of your own—a companion as noble as you. Until then, know that I will always be here to shield you from the cold and the darkness." Then I added, " Don't forget that Your mother and Laenor will also protect you with their dragons," which made Laenor puff his chest with pride.

Their smiles and bright eyes rekindled a spark within me—a reminder of why I fought, not only for survival but for the future that these children represented. As I patted their heads, I could sense the quiet resolve they were beginning to form, a resolve that would one day help rebuild the world from the ashes of war.

Before long, Rhaenys arrived. Her presence was unmistakable—elegant yet unyielding, her gaze sharp as if she were always prepared for battle. She paused when she saw Laena, who had been joyfully leaping about, her laughter echoing in the cool Driftmark air.

"What's this merriment about?" Rhaenys asked with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile that promised gentle reproof. "And what is it that has our little Laena so jubilant today?"

Laena immediately fell quiet, pretending to look away with a shy giggle. Rhaenys' smile broadened as she turned her attention to me. "What are you telling the kids, Daeron? I can sense your words carry both promise and mischief."

I chuckled, finding the humor in her knowing glance. "I'm merely assuring them that they have gifts to look forward to. Appropriate gifts, if you will—tokens of promise for my dear nephew and niece, so that they might grow strong and unafraid of the dark days to come."

Rhaenys shook her head, amusement twinkling in her eyes. "You always had a way with words, little brother. Come with me; we must visit Corlys and plan our next move. The war waits for no man—or woman—and neither can we let these dark tides gather without a plan."

Reluctantly leaving the children's laughter behind, I followed Rhaenys through the stone corridors of Driftmark until we reached the solar—a grand chamber adorned with maps, aged scrolls, and the weight of countless decisions.

There, Corlys was seated at a long wooden table, his eyes fixed on a detailed map of the Stepstones and the narrow sea. The soft lamplight danced upon his weathered features as he looked up at our approach.

" Daeron," Corlys began, his tone measured yet curious, "I've heard whispers from Jason Lannister. Tell me, are they really true? What exactly have you seen in the North? Are these white walkers as fearsome as the legends say?"

I exhaled slowly and nodded. "They are real, Corlys. I fought them with every ounce of strength in me. The Night King's army is vast, and their numbers may grow. I estimate we have at best twenty years before the threat becomes insurmountable."

Corlys leaned back, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "And yet, you bring no tangible proof? It is hard for a king to wage war against an enemy he cannot see."

I shrugged, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

"Proof? My scars and the memories of those lost are proof enough. And besides, no matter what evidence I provide, Viserys cannot lead this fight.

Otto might even use our plight to rally more support for his own ambitions. The promise of death and cold can unite enemies more effectively than any battle plan."

Rhaenys, who had been listening intently, interjected with a thoughtful frown. "And what do you propose we do once the dead march past the Wall? What's your plan, Daeron?"

I straightened my posture, my voice imbued with resolve. "I plan to lead the living, to protect those who follow me, and to forge a future where hope is not drowned in eternal night. As for our strategy in the Stepstones, here's what we do."

I unfolded a large parchment map and pointed to several key locations. "Corlys, you will command your 15,000 soldiers, splitting them into three separate armies.

Your main force will attack the Stepstones from the Dornish side. This will test the reaction of the Martells—if they decide to join the conflict, we must act accordingly and, if need be, eliminate their influence before they can cause further strife."

I traced my finger along the coast. "The remaining 5,000 soldiers should remain behind on Driftmark, guarding our supply lines and ensuring that our resources are secure. I will also train and dispatch 10,000 wildling warriors, honed in the art of guerrilla warfare.

They will launch an attack from the Pentosi side and make towards Bloodstone—once the triarchy begins to aid the pirates, we will strike at their rear. This maneuver will force the enemy into a defensive position, giving us the tactical advantage we so desperately need."

Corlys' eyes narrowed as he pondered the plan. "Why not strike from the outset? An immediate attack could end the conflict swiftly and with fewer losses."

I smirked, pointing across the map toward Pentos. "Because, my friend, we must first unmask the snakes hiding in the shadows.

The enemy in Pentos has existed for far too long, silently weaving their webs. They must be exposed and eliminated before they can strike again. Their treachery has cost us dearly, and they will not be allowed to threaten our future any longer."

Rhaenys's brow furrowed with concern. "Are you certain you can take them on? Even their father, Aemon Targaryen, was slain by the shadow council. They must harbor secrets—powers we cannot easily fathom."

I locked eyes with her, my tone turning grave. "They need to vanish, Rhaenys. First, their father was killed by their hands, and justice must be served.

Second, their influence in Essos has grown too dangerous. If left unchecked, they will strike us when we are most vulnerable.

Lastly, they have dared to harm my city and even injured the one woman I care for deeply. They will witness my fury and learn that the dragon does not tolerate betrayal."

A slow chuckle escaped Rhaenys as she leaned forward. "You always were a fiery one, Daeron. Perhaps, when all is said and done, you should get married to that Daena girl, and don't forget to invite us to the wedding, little brother."

Her teasing broke the tension, and I couldn't help but laugh—a deep, mirthful sound that mingled with the gravity of our conversation.

"I promise I'll send out an invitation that even the coldest heart will not refuse," I replied, my smile softening the edges of our planning session.

The discussions in the solar grew more animated as we refined our strategy. I could see the determination in Corlys' eyes and the cautious optimism in Rhaenys' expression. Our plans for the Stepstones were as daring as they were necessary—a multi-pronged assault designed to catch our enemies off guard and to safeguard our fragile future.

"Remember," I emphasized, "our plan is not merely to attack but to instill fear in those who have long hidden in the shadows. We will expose their treachery, bring them out, and destroy them. So we must pretend to act slowly and drag it out for a while to give them false hope."

Corlys nodded slowly, tapping his fingers against the map. "We'll mobilize our forces immediately. I will send scouts to monitor the movements of the Martells. If we detect any sign of their secret machinations, we will strike before they have time to gather their strength."

Rhaenys added, "And we must ensure that our supply lines are secure. The 5,000 soldiers left at Driftmark will form a bulwark, protecting our resources and allowing us to sustain the fight for as long as necessary."

I continued, "I have began training the wildling warriors already . They have the ferocity and the unconventional tactics that our enemies will find difficult to counter.

Once the triarchy shows any sign of siding with the pirates, our wildling contingent will move in swiftly from the Pentos side, attacking from the rear to create chaos in the enemy's ranks."

Corlys then asked curiously, " You have around 50,000 soldiers I believe. Why are you barely using half of that? And You never mentioned anything about the islands in Stepstones. What is it You are truly planning, dear Brother in law?"

I smirked innocently, " Do I look like a man who will let his enemies go, and allow them to grow stronger?"

Corlys's eyes widened, " You don't mean .....? But that's impossible! You have to be incredibly fast and finish it within a day, otherwise that's absolutely impossible , even with a Dragon . "

I smiled widely," Who said I have just one dragon?"

We visualized the final unfolding of our plan—a plan forged in the crucible of battle and hardened by the loss of countless brave souls.

They did not know yet, that this war would not just be limited to Stepstones, and the end results would be far different than what they expected.