Chapter 106: The Howl of the Winter Wolf

Dragon's Nest

The sun had begun to set, and the Great Hall of the Stone Drum was slowly illuminated by the glow of torches. Even the construction sites were lit, as the Vaelarys paid double wages to craftsmen willing to work at night.

Shadowmare roared as it flew in from the east, gliding to a halt at the entrance of the Dragonpit before slowly crawling into its lair. Nearby, the three hatchlings, offspring of the royal dragons, were also housed. These young creatures were growing rapidly—faster, according to young Aegon, than Stormcloud had in his time. Even Stormcloud himself seemed to have grown larger since settling in Dragon's Nest.

Stormcloud scuttled over, nudging Shadowmare's snout playfully, only to be met with a sharp glare from the gaunt black dragon. With a dejected whimper, Stormcloud retreated into its own lair—a space that Shadowmare and Vermithor had helped carve out with their fiery breaths.

Shadowmare took a moment to check the hatchlings den, which lay below and to the side of its lair. The hatchlings, tended to by seasoned members of the Silver Guard, were fed cooked meat until their flames were strong enough to handle raw flesh and live prey. Satisfied that the hatchlings were still fast asleep, Shadowmare let out a low growl, signaling for the guards to bring its dinner and indicating that its rider could dismount.

Rey, almost drifting into slumber on Shadowmare's back, was startled awake by a light jab to the waist from the dragon's tail. He groggily slid down from the dragon's back.

The young man stretched his limbs as the Silver Guard began helping him remove his armor. "So, how was the flight? Enjoy yourself?" Rey, shirtless now, took the brush handed to him by a guard and began scrubbing the ash off Shadowmare's scales.

The task was arduous and required more than one person. Typically, the brothers and princes would only handle part of the cleaning, removing dirt and grit from areas the dragons couldn't reach. The rest was left to the dragons themselves, who would dive into underground rivers or seawater.

Still, the ritual was essential for strengthening the bond between rider and dragon, which was why the three brothers placed such importance on these interactions.

Shadowmare let out a contented rumble, closing its eyes as it lay in its lair.

"I didn't expect patrolling to be so exhausting," Rey remarked as he finished cleaning the dragon's scales and rinsed himself off with a bucket of water. Changing into fresh clothes, he noticed Stormcloud watching him with wide, pitiful eyes, scratching another mark on the stone wall with its sharp horn. Stormcloud's horn was unusually hard and sharp, capable of piercing even the scales of old dragons like Shadowmare and Vermithor.

"Alright, alright," Rey teased. "Aegon will come to see you before bed. Honestly, your little brother visits you seven times a day, yet every time I come, you act like he's forgotten about you entirely."

Stormcloud snorted haughtily and retreated into its lair, where half a sheep from dinner awaited. It would keep the dragon occupied until Aegon's next visit.

Smiling and shaking his head, Rey picked up his dirty clothes and walked barefoot out of Shadowmare's lair. He knew better than to linger; the dragon was about to start eating, and another burst of flame would only dirty his clothes again.

At the lift platform, Rhaena was waiting. The silver-haired girl wasn't tall, her slender frame clad in dragonrider's gear. Her sharp features radiated the beauty of Old Valyria, with her pure silver hair braided and falling down her back.

"What brings you here, Rhaena?" Rey asked, though he already had an inkling of her thoughts. "Where are the children?"

"Aegon is keeping them entertained," Rhaena replied, tilting her head to look up at Rey, who, though the shortest of the three brothers, still stood six feet tall. "Rhaegor loves his stories so much that Aegon has run out of tales and keeps sneaking off to the Laurel Tower to find more."

"And you?" Rey stepped onto the platform, watching as Rhaena stared at the descending Dragonpit.

"I went to visit Arrax's lair," she said softly. "Rey, was little Luke like this when he played in the Dragonpit with his dragon?"

Rey nodded. He knew that, according to their current betrothal arrangement, Rhaena was to be his wife after the war. Yet she had once been betrothed to Lucerys, and the two had shared a deep bond in their youth.

"Honestly, I still can't believe Luke is gone," Rhaena murmured as she stepped off the lift.

"Luke died like a warrior," Rey said gently, trying to console her. "He was our pride. And I trust that my brother will soon avenge him."

"I would rather avenge him myself," Rhaena said through gritted teeth. "Rey, I'm sorry for saying this to you, but I have to be honest with you," she continued seriously. "I once loved Luke deeply."

"That's understandable," Rey replied, pulling her gently to stand outside the children's room. Looking into her eyes, he said, "No one could have predicted Aemond's recklessness and madness. But now you're my betrothed, Rhaena. I appreciate your honesty, and I will take on the responsibility of protecting you."

"Rey," Rhaena said with a mischievous smile as she placed one hand on his chest and the other at his waist, pushing him back against the wall, "Fire and blood don't need protection. I'll be your strength, not a bird under your wing. I can feel my dragon egg is about to hatch. Rey, we will fly together in the skies, offering our strength to your brother and nephews."

"What are you two doing?" Diana Tarly's voice suddenly came from the hallway, prompting Rey and Rhaena to let go of each other and stand at attention, facing the wall.

Diana could clearly see the blush on Rhaena's face. "Oh, come on, what's the big deal? Be open about it," Diana said, effortlessly pulling them back to face her. "Rhaena is already half a Vaelarys. It's good for the two of you to spend time together." She playfully flicked both of their foreheads, earning embarrassed laughter from the pair before she opened the door to the children's room.

Inside the Children's Room

"...And so the Conqueror said calmly, 'Your walls cannot withstand dragons. Dragons fly.' To which Black Harren retorted disdainfully, 'I built my castle of stone. Stone does not burn.' The Conqueror, with the same composure, replied, 'By sundown, your line will end.'"

Young Aegon animatedly recounted the tale, his arms flailing as he spoke. Beside him, Viserys was making swooshing sounds, diving a dragon figurine down onto a block castle, smashing it to pieces.

Samantha and Daenyra listened with rapt attention, while Rhaegor sat with a stern expression, silently muttering to himself. At three years old, he could already speak, but his long sentences were often incomprehensible—even to Maester Visari or Draezell himself.

"Aegon, Stormcloud misses you," Rey said with a smile as he approached the children.

"Uncle Rey, what's for dinner?" Samantha asked, clutching her younger cousin.

"Whatever is served," Rhaegor muttered under his breath.

"Tonight, there's honeyed oatmeal, egg bread, and carrot pancakes," Rey replied, kissing each of the children on the cheek. Samantha and Daenyra cheered, and even the stoic Rhaegor let out a small, triumphant sound.

"Lord Rey, you really should suggest to Lord Draezell that Rhaegor get a new tutor," young Aegon said, trying to sound mature. "Rhaegor is already acting like Hoffa. I'm worried he'll grow up to be another Hoffa."

Among Draezell's blood-sworn brothers, Aegon feared none more than the perpetually stern Hoffa—not even the brooding Tigarro or the physically demanding Aslan. Hoffa was known for his reliability, but his strict adherence to rules bordered on rigidity.

Everyone appreciated having someone as steadfast as Hoffa to carry out orders perfectly, but few would enjoy having such unyielding steel constantly at their side—least of all Aegon, whose law and combat instructors included none other than Hoffa himself.

"That's for my brother to decide," Rey said, shrugging to show his hands were tied. "Hoffa is a good man. His rigidity can be frustrating, but it's not a flaw."

Young Aegon let out an exaggerated sigh, attempting to seem world-weary.

At that moment, Hoffa knocked on the door, his expression as stoic as ever. Only after Diana nodded her permission did he step inside.

"Prince Rey, there's an urgent matter from Aslan," Hoffa announced.

"What's happened?" Rey asked, immediately sensing the gravity of the situation as he took the letter Hoffa handed him.

"What happened?" Young Aegon asked, knowing the kingdom was at war and quickly realizing the situation could be dire.

"A fleet from the Triarchy has appeared off the coast of Dorne. Samwell and Adams have already set out with the fleet," Rey said, his expression grave as he looked at the family. "Aslan suspects the Greens may be attempting to break through by sea. With my brothers unable to return in time, I'm the only Vaelarys man capable of fighting on dragonback. I need to escort the fleet from the skies. Don't worry; Aslan will soon return with the Silverblood Legion to reinforce us."

"Go, we'll hold Dragon's Nest," Diana said, fully grasping the severity of the situation. "To the north, Lord Randyll Carver's scouts guard the Stormlands, and to the east, Lord Tygris's watchtower keeps vigil."

"I have a dragon too, Lord Rey!" Young Aegon jumped up, pulling a wooden sword from the toy pile and brandishing it as he placed himself in front of the other children. "If anyone dares come here, I'll have Stormcloud burn them to ashes!"

"Don't worry," Rey said, ruffling Aegon's hair before turning to the window. "The Triarchy, is it? I'll remember you."

---

The Riverlands

Benjicot Blackwood cried out as he brought his sword down, severing a Westerlands knight's head. The knight, unable to comprehend how he had died at the hands of a child, stared wide-eyed even as his head rolled to the ground.

"Huff, huff..." The young Benjicot forced himself to suppress the urge to vomit. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed through the air, piercing the eye of a Westerlands soldier who had been sneaking up on him.

The Westerlands army was indeed formidable. Their ironclad cavalry had torn through the first defensive line in an instant. Lord Trystan Vance had fallen in the initial assault. Lords Petyr and Forrester regrouped at the second line, rallying the forces, while Benjicot led the reserve troops into fierce combat along the banks of the Red Fork.

But the Riverlands forces were quickly losing ground against the superior equipment and discipline of the Westerlands troops.

Lord Forrester, wielding a massive war hammer, struck down a knight from House Crakehall before spurring his horse toward Benjicot and Alyssanne. "Take your forces across the river and send ravens to the two princes for reinforcements. We'll hold them here."

Before he could finish speaking, mournful horn blasts suddenly echoed from the north, followed by the thunderous roar of hooves.

Lord Jason Lannister, slicing a Riverlands cavalryman from his horse, instinctively looked up at the sound. The queen's quartered banner and the Stark direwolf flew proudly in the wind.

"Old men, charge!"

Lord Rodrik Dustin raised his long-handled axe, his voice a deafening roar of savage glee. Behind him, every gray-bearded warrior bellowed in unison.

Their shaggy horses, massive and unruly, neighed fiercely as they stormed toward the Westerlands army.

Lord Adrian Tarbeck immediately understood the situation. "Pikemen! Pikemen! Turn and face them now!"

But it was too late.

The winter wolves had arrived.