Chapter 20 — The Sea Snake Couple
Morning sunlight spilled across the Red Keep's training grounds, glinting off the white armor of Daemon's new recruits. Windsgrace Raven Greyjoy, Richard Storm, and Ser Loreon Caswell — all knights who had shone at the recent tourney — now bore the crimson cloak of the City Watch. Each of them owed their loyalty not to the Iron Throne, but to the dragon who commanded from above it.
They respected Daemon.
They feared Caraxes.
When the great red wyrm's shadow swept across the city, the Gold Cloaks stood taller, and the thieves of Flea Bottom vanished like mist. The people whispered that so long as the Blood Wyrm circled the skies, no crime dared stir in King's Landing.
That morning, the three knights stood beside Caraxes, helping Daemon fit a newly forged two-seat saddle upon the dragon's back. The blacksmiths of the Red Keep had worked day and night to temper the Valyrian buckles and chains, the metal glinting like dark blood in the sun.
Richard Storm — broad-shouldered, with a wild beard and a nose that had been broken more times than he could count — tugged on a strap and grunted.
> "Two seats, my prince? Who are you flying with today?"
Daemon's lips curved.
> "My betrothed. Gael."
In seven days, the Rogue Prince would wed the most delicate flower of House Targaryen. And though she had once been shy, hiding behind her mother's skirts, under Daemon's influence Gael had begun to blossom — laughter in her voice, light in her eyes.
She approached now, her silver-blonde hair braided back, wearing a green hunting tunic and moleskin boots instead of silks. She paused before Caraxes, awe and fear mingling in her expression.
> "He's enormous," she whispered. "What if he doesn't like me? What if he drops me from the sky?"
Daemon offered his hand.
> "He won't. You'll sit before me, and I'll hold you. No harm will touch you while I live."
Gael placed her small hand in his, and together they climbed into the saddle. Daemon murmured a command in High Valyrian, and the Blood Wyrm bellowed, spreading his vast crimson wings.
With a single thunderous beat, they rose — the Red Keep shrinking below them, the city sprawling like a living tapestry. The wind tore through Gael's hair as clouds surrounded them, gleaming like floating palaces.
Below, Daemon's plans were already taking shape.
Gold Cloaks patrolled the streets he had reformed.
On Rhaenys' Hill, masons toiled beneath the great dome of the Dragonpit, widening its skylight at Daemon's urging — for dragons were not meant to live in cages.
On Visenya's Hill, new foundations were laid for the Great Sept, stone by stone.
And in Flea Bottom, where filth and hunger had once reigned, Daemon's men built outposts and barracks. The prince's rule reached where even the King's did not.
As Caraxes banked southward, the waters of the Blackwater Rush gleamed like molten gold beneath them. Farmers tilled new fields, fishermen cast their nets, and small huts rose along the riverbanks.
> "I never knew it was so alive down there," Gael said in wonder. "There used to be only ferrymen and mud huts."
Daemon's smile was proud and sharp.
> "It is alive because I willed it so. The King has granted me the lands along the Blackwater Rush. From now on, anyone crossing these waters to reach King's Landing will pay me tribute. A toll for safety, and a mark of loyalty."
> "Then this will be our land," Gael said softly, excitement trembling in her voice. "You'll be Lord of the Blackwater, and I'll be your lady."
> "Aye," Daemon said, eyes glinting. "And one day, there will be a castle there — a keep worthy of dragons."
They flew along the river's curve, the world stretching endless beneath them. To the west lay the Kingswood, still home to bandits. To the east, river pirates haunted the trade routes. It was dangerous land — and Daemon meant to tame it.
By the time Caraxes returned to the Red Keep, the sun was dipping low. The dragon landed with a roar outside the Dragonpit, sending the keepers and guards scurrying.
Daemon turned to Gael as they dismounted.
> "You could be a dragonrider too, like Visenya or Rhaenys before you. Dreamfyre waits within these walls."
Gael's eyes widened.
> "But they were warrior queens. I'm not—"
> "You are Targaryen," Daemon interrupted, voice low and commanding. "That is enough. Dreamfyre once belonged to Princess Rhaena — Aegon's eldest granddaughter. She is powerful, proud, and… unused to being ignored. She will recognize your blood."
Gael hesitated.
> "But Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys want their daughter Laena to ride Dreamfyre. Why that dragon, of all?"
Daemon's smile turned cold.
> "Because Dreamfyre is more than a mount. She is a matriarch — a female dragon who lays eggs. To bind her is to bind generations of dragons to one's bloodline. If Laena bonds with Dreamfyre, Rhaenys's line will claim the skies for centuries."
He looked to the great bronze doors of the Dragonpit.
> "We will not allow that."
But as they entered the vaulted hall, the hiss of dragons and the stench of fire greeted them — and Daemon's expression darkened.
Rhaenys and the Sea Snake were already there, their children laughing as they tossed lamb meat toward the gleaming, sapphire-scaled Dreamfyre.
Daemon's tone turned smooth, almost casual.
> "Lord Corlys, I heard your fleet has sailed to the Vale. I was surprised not to see you at its helm."
The Sea Snake turned, smiling politely.
> "The Sistermen pirates are a nuisance, not a threat. My brother Vaemond commands fifty warships — more than enough to cleanse the coast."
Daemon's eyes narrowed.
> "And yet you find time to visit the Dragonpit so often. I'd think the Master of Ships would have little interest in beasts of the sky."
Princess Rhaenys answered before her husband could.
> "My children have the blood of both sea and flame. It is only right that they know their heritage. Laenor and Laena adore the dragons — and the dragons adore them."
Daemon's voice hardened.
> "It seems you have set your sights on Dreamfyre."
The Sea Snake gave a short laugh.
> "Hardly. Dreamfyre belonged to Rhaena — a cursed dragon, some would say. Her rider's life was filled with tragedy: brother slain, forced marriage to Maegor the Cruel, betrayal, loss, and exile. Dreamfyre remembers such things."
Rhaenys shook her head, her gaze unwavering.
> "I do not believe in curses. Fire and dream are what make us Targaryen. Dreamfyre is a living flame — and fire, my prince, can be tamed by no man."
Daemon's eyes flicked toward the sapphire dragon behind her, the great beast's gaze meeting his own through the torchlight.
> "Perhaps," he said softly, "but fire can still be stolen."
Rhaenys's smile did not fade, though her eyes turned cold as Valyrian steel.
Between them, the air seemed to crackle — two dragons circling, waiting to strike.
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