Chapter 65 — Alysanne's Death, the Silverwing Battle
Terrifying whispers spread like wildfire through the Red Keep — rumors of Daemon Targaryen's two witches, Alys Rivers and Terra Uller. It was said that these women bathed in the blood of maidens to preserve their beauty, and that they consorted with shadows and spirits in the dead of night.
Servants claimed to hear chanting beneath the moon, and even the bravest guards refused to pass Daemon's chambers after dark.
Queen Aemma Arryn feared them most of all.
Terra Uller hailed from the infamous Witch Isle in the Vale — a place Aemma had heard of since childhood. Her own kin, the proud Arryns of the Eyrie, had long warned their children never to look upon Witch Isle's shores after dusk, for its daughters were said to summon storms and shape men's fates.
As months passed, Daemon's consorts bore him sons — Aegon and Jaehaerys — healthy and strong. But Aemma's womb gave her only pain and stillbirths.
Even she began to wonder if the witches had cursed her.
After all, everyone in King's Landing remembered the tale of Tyanna of the Tower, the Pentoshi witch whose jealousy had damned Maegor the Cruel's queens, causing their infants to be born twisted and dead. The Red Keep was said to still echo with the cries of those cursed babes.
One night, as a cold wind swept through the royal bedchamber, Aemma whispered,
> "Perhaps we should consult a maester, my love. What if those witches killed the child in my womb?"
Viserys sighed heavily.
> "Aemma, you let these rumors take hold of you. Alys Rivers and Terra are only Daemon's attendants. Do not give ear to such gossip — it is the poison of those who would turn my brother and me against each other."
Aemma hesitated, then murmured,
> "But have you not noticed, Daemon's power grows too swiftly? House Targaryen once held only the Red Keep and Dragonstone. Now he builds Flame Castle and Icefort along the Blackwater, and a whole city rises at his command."
She looked away.
> "And his dragon, Caraxes, grows fiercer by the day — while your great Balerion lies dead, and you have not taken another mount. Perhaps you should try, Viserys. The people say a Targaryen without a dragon is only half himself."
Viserys fell silent. He had been brave once, when Balerion's mighty wings carried him across the sky. But after the Black Dread's death, something in him had withered. The courage that had burned in his heart had turned to ash.
At last he said,
> "Daemon is my brother. He grew beneath my eyes, shared my blood, and swore loyalty to our House. When Father rules, we shall stand beside him — two sons of Baelon, bound in fire. And when I sit the Iron Throne, Daemon will be my Hand. I trust him."
But even as he spoke, doubt flickered in his heart.
---
The Prince's Lair
In the chambers of Flame Castle, Princess Gael Targaryen nursed her two sons, Aegon and Jaehaerys. When the infants were fed, she turned to tend the two hatchling dragons — Black Dread and Blue Sprite — who coiled beside the hearth.
Daemon smiled softly.
> "You've become a mother of dragons, my love."
Alys Rivers often suckled Daemon's bastards, yet it was always Gael who cared for the dragons — feeding them bits of charred mutton and tending their scales.
Daemon's thoughts, however, were already beyond family. He foresaw the years ahead — the aging King Jaehaerys, the weakening realm, and the inevitable struggle for succession.
He mused aloud,
> "One day, when my sons are grown, Silverwing and Vermithor will have new riders. Until then, our hatchlings shall serve as their heirs. Blood of dragon, fire of blood."
He considered placing dragon eggs beneath every cradle in his house, to fill the world again with dragons — though he knew such an act would defy the dragon laws set by King Jaehaerys himself.
For now, his eyes turned toward Corlys Velaryon and Ser Otto Hightower, allies joined by ambition, not loyalty.
> "A viper coils in the tower by the sea," Alys Rivers had once whispered through her flames.
Daemon knew who she meant.
Otto, cunning but cautious, posed no immediate danger — but Corlys was different. The Sea Snake had sailed farther than any man alive, returned with gold, silk, and secrets. His voyages to Asshai, Yi Ti, and the Thousand Islands reeked of sorcery.
Daemon turned to Alys.
> "What do you see in your fire now?"
Alys frowned, gazing deep into the flames.
> "Mist. Waves. Wet islands shrouded in storm. The raven I sent toward Driftmark was torn apart by the wind."
Terra Uller's voice was soft but cold.
> "The seagulls I sent burned mid-flight. Someone on Driftmark wields strange fire."
Daemon's lips curved into a smirk.
> "Then Corlys is hiding something — dragon eggs, perhaps. They claim Meleys the Red Queen never laid, but my mother swore she was female. Red Queen may have left her brood long ago, and Corlys keeps the truth buried."
Alys Rivers nodded slowly.
> "No wonder Rhaenys seldom leaves Meleys in the Dragonpit. She takes her back to Driftmark at night. It would be easy to conceal hatchlings there."
Daemon's eyes glinted crimson in the firelight.
> "I'll find proof — and when I do, Driftmark will burn brighter than any beacon."
---
The Passing of the Good Queen
In the year 100 AC, King's Landing celebrated a century since Aegon's landing. The streets thrummed with music and banners, and the Great Sept plaza hosted a grand tourney.
Prince Daemon took the champion's crown once more — the smallfolk shouting his name louder than any lord's.
That night, as he lay in bed, a dream seized him — a silver dragon falling from the sky, its wings shattering upon the towers of King's Landing. He woke gasping.
> "Silverwing…" he whispered. "Grandmother Alysanne."
The next morning, Daemon and Gael visited the ailing Queen Alysanne Targaryen on her bed in Maegor's Holdfast.
> "Grandmother," Daemon said gently, "I dreamt of your dragon. She fell through storm and fire. It may be an omen. You must rest."
Alysanne smiled weakly, her silver hair spilling across her pillow.
> "Sweet boy… even without your dream, I know my time has come. I have birthed thirteen children, and outlived most of them. My heart is tired, but it is full."
Her voice softened.
> "To see Gael smiling again, and to see the wild Daemon tempered by wisdom — that is blessing enough."
Everyone knew the end was near. King Jaehaerys, Prince Baelon, Daemon, Viserys, and Rhaenys all accompanied her to the Great Sept for one final prayer, and then across the river to view Daemon's city — the shining streets of Blackwater City.
Even Jaehaerys, frail as he was, marveled.
> "You have done what kings dream of, Daemon — built a city of stone, not words."
Soon after, the royal fleet bore the family to Dragonstone, where Alysanne wished to die beside her dragons.
By midsummer, her health failed.
In her last moments, she summoned her family to her chamber. Her eyes sought Baelon.
> "You will make a wise king," she said, her voice a whisper. "Viserys and Daemon will be your right hands. Remember, my son — Rhaenys carries Aemon's only blood. Protect her line."
Then she turned to her granddaughter.
> "Rhaenys, in my heart you were always a queen. But the world of men is cruel. Still, promise me — let your daughter Laena wed a Targaryen. Bind blood to blood. That is my wish."
Finally, she clasped her husband's hand.
> "We were children once — prisoners of Visenya's tower. Now we have ruled, loved, and buried our sons. Wait for me in heaven, my king."
Jaehaerys's tears fell upon her pale cheek.
> "Always," he said.
When her breath stilled, a wail echoed from Vermithor and Silverwing, shaking the mountain. The "Good Queen" was gone.
At her funeral, all of Westeros mourned. Nobles and smallfolk alike filled Dragonstone's square, draped in black. Silverwing herself set the pyre aflame with a roar that turned the sky orange.
Her ashes were buried beside the children she had lost.
---
Silverwing's Wrath
That night, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon walked the slopes of Dragonmount. The mountain trembled with the roars of dragons — wild and tame alike.
Rhaenys whispered,
> "My grandmother is gone, and my grandsire grows weaker each moon. The throne will pass to Baelon's sons. Perhaps we should stop this now, Corlys. Be content with Driftmark. Let our line rest."
Corlys's jaw tightened.
> "Your father swore your unborn child would inherit the Iron Throne. I will not let that oath die."
Rhaenys turned away.
> "He thought I carried a son — I bore Laena. Even Grandmother called me her 'little queen' in jest. But dreams fade, Corlys. The Iron Throne was never meant for me."
Corlys grasped her chin.
> "If we do not claim what is ours, others will steal it. We have friends in the North, the Vale, and the Stormlands. When Laena rides Silverwing, the realm will remember who she is."
Rhaenys frowned.
> "You speak of treason — and danger. Hatching hidden eggs already breaks the dragon law. Those eastern sorcerers you keep, they do not understand fire or blood. And even if they succeed, can they stand against Caraxes, Vhagar, and Dreamfyre?"
Corlys's eyes burned.
> "Laws are tools of the strong. As long as we have dragons, we are the law."
He smiled coldly.
> "Laena is destined to ride Silverwing. The omens are clear."
---
The Clash at Dragonmount
At dawn, Corlys took Laena — eight years old, bright-eyed and fearless — toward the cave where Silverwing nested. He carried a bucket of fresh mutton.
> "Laena," he said, "Queen Alysanne has passed. Silverwing mourns. You must care for her now."
Laena nodded eagerly.
> "Grandmother rode her across all Westeros — from the Wall to the Arbor, even Oldtown! They say the tower lights flickered when her wings passed."
Corlys chuckled.
> "Aye, that was the shadow of true power."
But as they neared the cave, his smile froze.
Daemon Targaryen stood at the entrance — his son Aegon perched upon Silverwing's foreleg, laughing as the great dragon exhaled smoke across the rocks.
Daemon turned slowly.
> "Lord Corlys. Little Laena. What brings you to my mountain?"
Corlys's voice was tight.
> "Before Queen Alysanne's death, she charged Laena with caring for Silverwing."
Daemon's lips curved in amusement.
> "Is that so? Strange that I heard no such will. Rest easy — I will see that every dragon is well tended."
Corlys's gaze dropped to the child on the dragon's paw.
> "Little Aegon is barely two years old, my prince. Is it wise to let a babe play with dragons? He has his own — the Black Dreadling, does he not?"
Daemon's smile turned sharp.
> "My son carries the truest blood of Old Valyria. He fears no dragon. But take care, Lord Corlys — salt-born blood has ever been wary of fire. You'd do well not to test it."
The mountain wind howled between them, and Silverwing's eyes gleamed with molten gold.
---
End of Chapter 65
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