Title: The Dragon's Clause

Title: The Dragon's Clause

Year and Month: 105 AC, 6th Moon

The machinery of the Seven Kingdoms ran smoother than it ever had. The Dornish initiative, my 'unconquered market' strategy, was proving to be a resounding success. Trade flowed, tariffs filled the royal coffers, and the marcher lords, now rich on percentages, had become the most zealous defenders of the peace. The royal bank I had established was funding infrastructure projects from the North to the Reach, binding the great houses to the Crown with chains of credit and shared prosperity. My reign, though young, was defined by a quiet, inexorable, and profitable order. I was King Aeryn the Efficient, the Builder, the Accountant. I had balanced the books of the entire continent.

But there was one account, one critical asset, that remained dangerously unregulated. An asset so valuable it defied quantification, a strategic advantage so absolute that its dilution represented the single greatest threat to the long-term stability of my entire enterprise.

The dragons.

For a century, the equation had been simple: Targaryen equals dragon. Dragon equals power. But the equation had become muddied. My niece, Rhaenys, daughter of my late brother Aemon, had married the ambitious Lord Corlys Velaryon. While her own dragon, Meleys, was a formidable asset, the true issue lay with the next generation. Her two children by Corlys, Laena and Laenor Velaryon, had both claimed dragons. Laena rode the legendary Vhagar, the last survivor of the Conqueror's three. Laenor rode Seasmoke.

Three dragons were now bonded to riders bearing the name Velaryon. Though they had Targaryen blood through their mother, they were not Targaryens. They were Velaryons. Their primary loyalty was to their house, to the ambitions of their father, the Sea Snake. This was an unacceptable risk. Dragons were not family pets to be distributed amongst relatives. They were the nuclear deterrent of my kingdom, the ultimate expression of my Crown's authority. They were, in the clearest possible terms, the exclusive property of the parent company, not its subsidiaries.

My user notes from a life before were clear on this point. The ambiguous nature of dragon ownership was a cancer that would metastasize into the Dance of the Dragons. I would not allow it. It was time to issue a new corporate policy, a clarification of asset ownership that would be binding, absolute, and permanent.

My method would not be a blunt royal decree that would smack of tyranny. It would be a summons. A family meeting. A gathering of the shareholders to be informed of a new, non-negotiable bylaw.

In the sixth moon of 105 AC, ravens flew from the Red Keep. They were addressed to my niece, Princess Rhaenys, and her husband, Lord Corlys Velaryon, at Driftmark. To my nephew, Prince Viserys, now a married man of twenty-six, gentle and content in his own right. And to my other nephew, Prince Daemon, now twenty and the brooding, brilliant, and dangerously bored commander of the City Watch. The summons was simple: they and their children were commanded to attend a family council on Dragonstone, the ancient seat of our house. It was a summons no one could refuse.

The choice of venue was deliberate. Not the Red Keep, which was a seat of governance. Dragonstone was a seat of power. It was a place of smoke and salt and sorcery, a fortress carved from black rock, steeped in the legacy of Valyria. It was a home-field advantage, a reminder to all who attended of the true source of our family's strength.

They arrived on a grey, overcast day, their ships cutting through the choppy waters of the Narrow Sea. I greeted them in the great hall of the Stone Drum, the main keep of the fortress. The air was thick with tension. This was not a happy family reunion.

Corlys Velaryon was the first to approach, Rhaenys on his arm. The Sea Snake was in his prime, his silver-gold hair, a trait of his own Valyrian blood, now streaked with more silver than gold, but his eyes were as sharp and ambitious as ever. He bowed, a gesture of perfect courtly respect that did nothing to hide the suspicion in his gaze. "Your Grace. You honor us with your summons. We were not aware of any pressing family matter."

"All matters concerning the future of our House are pressing, Lord Corlys," I replied, my tone even.

Rhaenys, 'the Queen Who Never Was,' looked at me with pride and a hint of resentment. She was a handsome woman, every inch a queen, and she never forgot the future that had been denied her. Her children, Laena and Laenor, stood behind her. Laena, now a young woman of twenty-two, had her mother's beauty and her father's confidence. Laenor, a youth of twelve, was handsome but seemed to possess a gentler, less assertive nature.

My nephews arrived next. Viserys, my heir until I produced a child of my own, was soft in body and spirit. He bowed deeply, his face etched with an earnest desire to please. "Uncle," he said, using the familial term. "We are at your command."

Daemon was last. He sauntered into the hall, a smirk playing on his lips, his hand resting on the hilt of his own Valyrian blade, Dark Sister, which I had granted him the year before. He was the most like me in his ambition and ruthlessness, though his was a chaotic, passionate fire, where mine was a cold, controlled fusion. "A family meeting," he said, his voice laced with mocking curiosity. "How cozy. I do hope you've planned some games, Uncle."

"Of a sort, Daemon," I said, unmoved by his sarcasm. "The most important game of all."

I led them not to a comfortable solar, but to the Chamber of the Painted Table. It was a grim, circular room, dominated by the massive, intricately carved and painted map of Westeros that Aegon the Conqueror had used to plan his invasion. There were no windows. The only light came from torches set in high sconces, which made the shadows dance like ghosts. I took my seat at the head of the table, in the King's chair. I had them sit before me. My sister, Gael, was also present, at my side. She was my anchor to the world of emotion, her quiet presence a foil to my own cold demeanor. She looked nervous, sensing the tension, and I gave her a subtle, reassuring nod.

When they were all seated, I began.

"I have brought you here," I said, my voice resonating in the stone chamber, "to discuss the single greatest asset of our House. An asset that has secured our dynasty for a century. An asset whose mismanagement could lead to its ruin."

I let the words hang in the air.

"I speak of the dragons," I said.

I saw Corlys and Rhaenys tense immediately. They knew where this was going.

"For a hundred years, the equation has been simple. House Targaryen rules because we command the dragons. The power of the dragon is the power of the King. It is the ultimate guarantor of the King's Peace. But this power, this asset, has become… diluted. It has spread to other houses, other names."

My gaze rested, coolly and deliberately, on Rhaenys and her children.

"This is an unacceptable variance in our long-term strategic security," I continued, my language shifting from that of a king to that of a chairman. "It is a loophole that must be closed. Therefore, from this day forward, a new royal decree will be entered into the laws of the Seven Kingdoms. I shall call it the Dragon's Clause."

I outlined the terms, my voice clear, precise, and absolute.

"One: All dragons, hatched or unhatched, are the exclusive property of the Crown and House Targaryen. They are strategic assets of the state, not personal possessions of their riders."

"Two: Members of other noble houses, even those with the blood of the dragon, may be granted the honor of bonding with a dragon. This is a privilege, not a right, and is granted at the sole discretion of the reigning monarch."

I paused, then delivered the critical blow. "Three: Upon the death of a dragonrider who is not of the name Targaryen, the dragon they rode is to be returned to the care of the Targaryen royal house on Dragonstone. The dragon may not be claimed by an heir of the rider's house. Its fate will be determined by the King alone."

"Four," I added, my eyes locking with Corlys's. "No future members of any house, including House Velaryon, shall be permitted to claim a dragon or be gifted a dragon egg without the express, written consent of the King for each individual instance. Any attempt to do so will be considered an act of high treason, punishable by death."

The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the torches sputtering. I had just dropped a bomb into the center of the room. I had just stripped the most powerful house in the realm outside my own of its greatest future prospects.

Rhaenys was the first to find her voice. She shot to her feet, her face flushed with fury. "This is an outrage! An insult to my blood, to my children! They are your kin! They have the blood of the Conqueror! Who are you to deny them their birthright?"

"I am the King," I replied, my voice dangerously quiet. "And their birthright is to be loyal subjects of the Crown. The dragons are not a birthright. They are a responsibility that belongs to the ruling house alone. I am preventing a future where cousins may go to war with cousins, where the power of the dragon is turned against itself. I am securing the peace my father built."

"You are securing your own power!" Corlys roared, rising to stand beside his wife. "You are punishing my children for the crime of being born Velaryons! My house has bled for yours! My ships are the shield of your realm! My wife is the daughter of your elder brother! And this is our reward? To have our legacy neutered, our future stripped from us?"

"Your reward, Lord Corlys," I said, my gaze like ice, "is the immense wealth and power you already enjoy as my Master of Ships. A position I granted you. Your reward is the betrothal of your daughter to my nephew, a match I arranged. You have been rewarded handsomely for your service. But the dragons are not, and never have been, part of that transaction. They are not a commodity to be traded for loyalty."

"This is tyranny!" Rhaenys declared.

It was Daemon who spoke next. He had been leaning back in his chair, watching the exchange with an amused, predatory glint in his eye. "Is it?" he asked, his voice a soft drawl. He looked at Rhaenys. "Cousin, your blood is true, but your name is not. The Sea Snake is a great man, but he is a man of ships and salt, not fire and blood. The dragons answer to the name Targaryen. They are ours. The King is not punishing your children. He is clarifying a point of ownership that should have been made long ago. He is protecting the purity of our line and the exclusivity of our power."

He turned his gaze to me, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I, for one, think it's a damned fine piece of law. It has teeth."

Daemon, my chaotic, unpredictable nephew, had sided with me. Not out of loyalty, but out of a deep-seated Targaryen supremacism. He saw the logic of concentrating power in the hands of those with the right name. His support had just fractured the opposition.

Viserys, ever the peacemaker, wrung his hands. "Uncle, surely there is a compromise to be found? We are family…"

"We are," I agreed, cutting him off. "And as the head of this family, I am making a decision to protect it from itself. This is not a debate. This is a notification of new policy." I rose to my feet, the Conqueror's crown a heavy, indisputable weight on my brow. "The decree will be entered into law tomorrow. You are all dismissed."

Corlys and Rhaenys stared at me, their faces a mixture of fury and disbelief. They had come here expecting a discussion. They had received a royal edict. They saw that I was immovable, that my decision was absolute. Corlys, the pragmatist, knew that open rebellion was suicide. I held Balerion, the capital, and the loyalty of the other great houses. He had no choice but to swallow this bitter pill.

I offered them a single, meaningless concession to allow them to save face. "The existing bonds will, of course, be honored for the lifetime of the riders," I said. "Laena will ride Vhagar until the end of her days. Laenor will ride Seasmoke. Their honor is not in question. It is the future I am securing."

They left the chamber without another word, their anger a cold, palpable wave. The alliance I had with the Velaryons was now strained to the breaking point, but it was not broken. It was a calculated risk I had been willing to take.

When they were gone, only Daemon and Gael remained. Daemon laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Well, that was entertaining. You've just made a powerful enemy, Uncle."

"I have managed a powerful asset," I corrected him. "There is a difference. Lord Corlys is too smart to be an enemy. He is a partner who has just been reminded of the terms of his contract."

He shook his head, a look of genuine, if grudging, admiration in his eyes. "You are a cold bastard, Aeryn. Colder than the winds beyond the Wall." He stood up, stretched, and sauntered out of the room, whistling a jaunty tune.

Only Gael was left. She looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Was that necessary, brother?" she whispered. "You hurt them."

"Yes," I said, turning to look at the Painted Table, at the map of my kingdom. "It was. A surgeon's cut is necessary to remove a tumor before it can poison the whole body. A little pain today has just prevented a war that would have killed thousands tomorrow."

She did not understand, not truly. She could not see the ghosts of the future I had just exorcised. She only saw a family fractured by a cold, hard king. And in that moment, I realized that my own ledger had an entry for loss. In securing the future of my House, I had sacrificed the last vestiges of warmth and affection within it. It was a price I had paid willingly. A necessary expenditure for a secure and profitable future. The books, as always, had to be balanced.