32. The Dragon Egg

Stannon streched his back on bed as he processed the information. A dragon egg. A real one. After all these years of searching, hoping, and gathering any whispers of their existence, he finally had a solid lead. His fingers drummed against the wooden table, his mind racing through possibilities.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Colen nodded. "The report is clear. Aurane Waters found the egg during his journey to Essos. But it's not with him anymore."

Stannon frowned. "Then where is it?"

"With Lord Monford Velaryon," Colen said gravely. "Aurane may have found it, but he's just a bastard. He holds no real power in Driftmark. It must have been taken from him the moment he returned."

Stannon wasn't surprised. Driftmark was a land of proud Valyrian heritage. The Velaryons, close to the Targaryens, had always held a deep reverence for dragons. If Monford Velaryon had the egg, he wouldn't give it up easily.

His fingers curled into a fist.

Once this news spread, it would cause a storm. Every ambitious noble, every power-hungry lord, every sorcerer and scholar obsessed with the return of dragons would descend upon Driftmark like vultures. The egg could end up anywhere, lost in the chaos of bidding wars, assassinations, or worse—fall into the hands of the wrong person.

"No," Stannon muttered under his breath. "I must have that egg."

He had spent nine years searching. Every connection he had, every resource he controlled, quite a lot of the wealth he had accumulated had been used in pursuit of this goal. He had come close to finding them a few times, but every lead had led to disappointment.

Now, after so long, an opportunity had finally appeared.

He had to act fast.

Colen watched him closely. "Lord Velaryon will not give it up easily."

"I don't expect him to," Stannon said, eyes narrowing. "But that egg is mine."

Colen hesitated before speaking. "There's something else."

Stannon raised a brow.

"There are rumors that this might be the same egg Greyjoy threw into the sea."

That made Stannon pause.

He knew the story. Years ago, Euron Greyjoy had acquired a dragon egg. He had tried everything to hatch it—rituals, blood magic, even burning his own men as sacrifices with th help of sorcerer from Myr. But nothing had worked. In his frustration, he had thrown the egg into the sea, cursing it as useless.

The idea that this was the same egg was intriguing.

But there was a problem. If the egg had been submerged in salt water for years, there was a high chance it was dead. Useless.

Even so, he had to see it for himself.

His system would tell him the truth.

The system he had worked only on living beings. If he touched the egg and his system detected nothing, then it was truly lost.

But if there was even a sliver of life inside…

Then he would have the key to something that could change everything.

The thought of possessing a dragon, an actual living dragon, sent a thrill through him. He had played the game of politics well. He had built his power base. He had secured wealth through the soap business. But power in Westeros was always fleeting. Kings were killed. Thrones were stolen. Strength was the only thing that mattered.

And nothing in this world symbolized strength more than a dragon.

The nobility would have no choice but to recognize him as a true ruler if he had a dragon. Lannisters would think twice before opposing him.

A slow, calculating smile formed on his lips.

Taming the dragon wouldn't be a problem.

Stannon had already used his system on Jon Snow during his time in the North. His system had revealed Jon's abilities, including one particular ability buried, the result of his Targaryen bloodline—the ability to tame a dragon.

Jon had never shown signs of it, had never even realized what flowed in his veins, but Stannon's system didn't lie. The ability to bond with dragons was there, dormant, waiting to be awakened.

And if Jon had it…

Then Stannon could take it.

He couldn't copy that ability during his stay in Winterfell only because it was a five starred ability.

"I'll leave for Driftmark immediately," Stannon decided.

Colen hesitated. "That might be unwise, my prince. Your presence is expected at the King's name day celebration. If you leave now, people will notice. The Queen and the Small Council will start asking questions."

Stannon exhaled sharply. Colen was right. His absence would be too conspicuous. He couldn't afford to draw suspicion before making his move. It would take a day to reach there and a day to travel back, so he might reach the ceremony on the cusp of its ending it he may not witness it all.

Stannon leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The weight of the decision pressed down on him, but the answer was obvious. The egg was far more important than any business announcement. A dragon egg—especially a real one—was an opportunity that could never come again.

He could always announce his business later. The court and the merchants would wait. But if he hesitated now, the egg might slip through his fingers forever.

He stood, his decision made. "The egg takes priority."

Colen nodded in understanding. "Then how do you wish to proceed?"

Stannon's fingers tapped against the wooden table as he thought. Traveling openly wasn't an option. The Queen and the Small Council were already watching him too closely. If they noticed his sudden absence, they'd start asking dangerous questions. He couldn't afford that.

"I'll leave in secret," he decided. "Only my father will know about it."

---

Later that night, Stannon made his way to Robert's chambers and entered inside after his permission.

"What's this? You come to drink with me at last, boy?" Robert asked, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement. "Or are you here to nag me again?"

Stannon spoke seriously. "Neither. I need to talk."

Robert studied him and muttered, "Speak."

"I'm leaving for Driftmark. Tonight," Stannon spoke after a second.

Robert's brows shot up. "Driftmark? What in the Seven Hells for?"

Stannon took a deep breath. "A dragon egg."

The amusement vanished from Robert's face. He straightened in his chair, suddenly sober. "A real one?"

"Yes."

Robert leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Where?"

"Lord Monford Velaryon has it," Stannon said. "Aurane Waters found it, but Monford took it from him."

Robert scoffed. "That silver-haired bastard? Of course, he did." He shook his head, then fixed Stannon with a hard stare. "And you're planning to steal it?"

Stannon didn't answer immediately. He met Robert's gaze, letting the silence speak for itself.

Robert sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You've got that look in your eyes. The same one your father had whenever he wanted something too much." His voice softened, just slightly.

"I'll handle it," Stannon interrupted. "I have my ways."

Robert gave him a long look. Then, with a grunt, he leaned back. "You always were a stubborn little brat."

Stannon smirked. "You taught me well."

Robert let out a rough laugh. "Aye, that I did." He exhaled, then grew serious again. "How do you plan to do this?"

"I'll travel in secret," Stannon said. "No banners, no large escort. Just Colen and ten of my best men."

Robert frowned. "The Wildlings?"

Stannon nodded. "They're loyal, and they know how to move unseen."

Robert grunted in approval. "Aye, that they do." He rubbed his chin, thinking. "The Queen's been looking for an excuse to put you in your place, you know. If she gets wind of this—"

"She won't," Stannon said firmly. "As far as the court knows, I'm still here, waiting for the name day celebrations."

Robert exhaled through his nose. "And what if Monford refuses to give it to you?"

Stannon's eyes darkened. "Then I'll take it."

Robert studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips. "Just like your father."

Stannon tilted his head. "Is that a compliment?"

Robert chuckled before his expression turned serious once more. "Be careful, Stannon. You may not have a crown, but you're still a prince. That means enemies in every corner."

Stannon nodded. "I know."

Robert sighed, then stood, clapping a heavy hand on Stannon's shoulder. "Go, then. Do what you must. But if you get yourself killed, I'll find a way to drag you back just to beat some sense into you."

Stannon chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. If I have to die, I'd rather it be chasing dragons than choking on Dornish wine at some dull feast."

Robert laughed. "You're right about that. The lords here would stab you with a smile and drink to your memory before your body even cooled. At least in battle, you see the blade coming." He shook his head with a grin. "But if you do die, don't expect me to cry for you. I'll just drink twice as much in your honor."

Stannon smirked. "Well, if you drink yourself to death, make sure you leave me enough gold for my next adventure."

Robert grinned and waved him off. "Go on before I change my mind and lock you in the Red Keep."

Stannon gave a playful bow. "As you wish, Your Grace."

With that, he turned, ready to leave.

But just as he was about to leave, he stopped. He suddenly remembered that it wouldn't be long before Robert would die if they went according to the orginal plot. Although a lot had changed compared to the show, he still couldn't be worried for the man who literally treated him as the most precious person in the world.

Stannon hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the frame. He looked back at Robert, and he got a weird feeling.

"You look like you've swallowed something sour," Robert barked as he looked at the troubled eyes of his son.

For a moment, Stannon thought about letting it go. But instead, he stepped back inside.

They spoke in quiet, low voices—sometimes sharp, sometimes thoughtful. Robert scoffed now and then, frowned at times, and once—just once—he laughed. A deep, strong laugh, full of life, the kind that could lift spirits and rally men to fight.

When Stannon finally rose to leave, Robert leaned back, arms crossed, studying him with an expression that was nearly unreadable. Nearly.

"Go on, then," Robert muttered. "Go chase your dragons."

Stannon met his eyes, something unspoken passing between them, something only they both could understand.

"And you've got a kingdom to rule," he said.

Robert scoffed, but his face was full of confidence. "Aye. And gods help the fool who tries to take it from me."

Stannon smiled, turned, and walked out, the door closing behind him with a quiet thud.

---

By the time the moon hung high in the sky, Stannon and his small group were already slipping out of the Red Keep's hidden passages. The Wildlings moved like ghosts in the darkness, their footsteps silent on the cobblestones. Colen rode beside Stannon, his expression unreadable.

The city was quiet, the streets empty save for the occasional drunk stumbling home. They moved swiftly, avoiding patrols, until they reached the docks where a small, fast ship awaited them.

As Stannon stepped aboard, he cast one last glance toward the towering walls of the Red Keep.

The court could wait. The nobility could wait.

But a dragon egg? That was something worth risking everything for.

With a final breath, he turned away.

And the ship set sail.

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