King Viserys's expression darkened.
He had not expected that even the youngest, Daeron, would dare defy him so openly.
Before the gathered court, it was a humiliation he could not ignore.
Yet in truth, Viserys had already lost much of the authority that once clung to the Iron Throne.
Prince Aegon's growing reputation across the Seven Kingdoms was not merely the result of birth order. He was known as diligent, restrained, and temperate. No whispers of debauchery followed his name, no tavern songs mocked him. He was generous with coin, patient with petitioners, and courteous even to smallfolk.
By contrast, the heir Viserys had named with his own lips had earned little goodwill.
Princess Rhaenyra had once been called the Realm's Delight, but that praise belonged to her girlhood. In adulthood, admiration thinned. After her marriage, she bore three sons whose features proclaimed their bastardy to all with eyes to see.
In doing so, she did not only tarnish her own name. She made her father appear willfully blind.
Many lords of the realm no longer understood what King Viserys was thinking.
Had they possessed an eldest son like Aegon, they would have named him heir long ago and shaped him carefully for rule.
Aegon reached out and took Queen Alicent's hand, steadying her as he helped her into the carriage prepared at the foot of the steps. Once inside, he settled opposite her and spoke calmly.
"Let us go."
The coachman snapped the reins, and the carriage began rolling toward the port.
Above them, Prince Daeron laid a hand against Tessarion's blue scales. The young dragon rumbled in response, then spread her wings and lifted into the sky, circling low above the road. She followed the carriage as it moved through the city, a watchful shadow against the clouds.
Otto Hightower stood where they had departed, watching his daughter and grandson recede into the distance. A faint smile curved his lips. He turned back to King Viserys and inclined his head.
"Your Grace, there remain details concerning the war with Dorne that require discussion. We should return to the Red Keep."
Viserys gave a sharp snort and turned away without replying.
Otto lingered a moment longer, his gaze sliding over the retreating figures of the king, Prince Daemon, and Princess Rhaenyra. Amusement flickered in his eyes.
You wish to use Dorne to build glory and merit, he thought. But you have not asked House Hightower.
The Reach had been cultivated by his family for generations. Their ties with Dorne were old, subtle, and numerous. Tripping the Blacks would be easy.
Perhaps, Otto reflected, he could do more than obstruct them. With careful timing, he might use this conflict to ruin House Beesbury of Honeyholt entirely.
He turned and followed the others, already arranging pieces upon the board in his mind.
*
Blackwater Bay.
Dreamfyre and Vhagar swept low over the harbor, their shadows swallowing docks and ships alike. People stopped in the streets, necks craning upward.
King's Landing was no stranger to dragons, but creatures of such size flying so low still struck awe into even the most jaded citizen.
At the port, Aegon waited beside the gangplank until Jasper Wylde finally arrived, hurrying through the crowd.
"My apologies, Your Highness," Jasper said, bowing quickly. "I am late."
Aegon smiled, waving the matter aside. "You are not. I arrived only moments ago myself. In the future, the legal matters of the Stepstones will trouble you greatly."
Jasper straightened, his eyes bright. "It is my honor to serve as your legal counselor, Your Highness."
Aegon nodded, fingers brushing thoughtfully against his chin. The fleet had departed without incident, supplies secured and men accounted for. Yet an unease lingered.
Something was missing.
Queen Alicent noticed his frown. "What troubles you?"
"I feel as though I have forgotten something," Aegon said slowly.
The holds were filled with provisions bound for Drakoncrest. Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron were all present. Alicent herself had come. No one had been left behind.
As for restoring Hugh's family name, he had not yet found the opportunity to speak of it, but it was not forgotten.
Then, realization struck.
Aegon inhaled sharply. "That old man."
He hesitated, then turned to his mother. "Mother, do you remember the old man who asked for my help when I first returned?"
Alicent released a quiet breath, relief softening her expression. "I feared it was something urgent. Your grandfather has already handled the matter."
"Handled it," Aegon repeated, his mouth tightening. "How, precisely, did Grandfather handle it?"
For a fleeting moment, he imagined Otto's solution involving a knife and a quiet alley.
Alicent shook her head. "Not as you fear. His name is Thommon. He was taken in by the orphanage you founded. To curb your growing popularity in King's Landing, Princess Rhaenyra persuaded the king to cut its funding, along with the nursing home."
Her lips pressed thin. "Those funds have now been restored, using Hightower gold."
She met his eyes steadily. "The cost is nothing to our house, and it preserves your good name. It is well worth it."
Aegon's lips curled.
Remarkable. Truly remarkable.
Were Viserys and Rhaenyra entirely bereft of sense?
He had founded the orphanage and nursing home to build goodwill among the people. Instead of founding institutions of their own, they had chosen to dismantle his.
All they achieved was deepening resentment toward themselves.
Aegon exhaled. "Seven save us."
He had overestimated the Blacks. Even without his interference, they were digging their own graves.
Then, suddenly, he laughed.
The sound startled Alicent. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Aegon said quickly, schooling his expression. "I merely remembered something foolish. I am fine."
Two days earlier, in the Stepstones.
After enduring repeated inspections, Taylor was finally admitted to meet Lord Kraken.
Prince Aegon was not present.
"You seek peace," Kraken said, leaning back as he regarded Taylor with interest.
Taylor forced himself to remain composed. To seek peace was, in truth, to concede defeat, no matter how it was dressed.
"Chief Nekania," Taylor began, "has resolved to conclude a peace with Prince Aegon Targaryen. Tyrosh will pay thirty million gold dragons in reparations and cede all islands east of the Stepstones. In exchange, Tyrosh will recognize Prince Aegon's rule over the western islands and agree to a ceasefire."
He paused, then added, "If the full sum cannot be paid at once, a dragonrider may be sent to serve Tyrosh in repayment. Installments are acceptable."
Laughter burst forth.
Loren was the first to lose control, doubling over. A heartbeat later, Kraken joined him. The sound spread through the hall, even the guards struggling to suppress grins.
Taylor's face flushed crimson.
"This is a negotiation," he snapped. "Is this how envoys are treated?"
Kraken wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "Forgive us. It is only that this is very amusing. Tell me, are you truly Tyrosh's envoy?"
He gestured to a servant. "Fetch a stool. Our guest is still standing."
The stool brought forth was small, laughably so.
Taylor hesitated, then sat, knees drawn awkwardly close, his posture cramped and undignified.
Loren nodded approvingly. "Better."
"Our terms are simple," he said evenly. "Tyrosh pays thirty million gold dragons and relinquishes all its lands. Its people will be resettled under our authority and obey without exception."
Taylor sprang to his feet. "Are you mocking me?"
"No," Loren replied calmly. "These are our terms."
Kraken nodded. "Agree, or leave."
Laughter rose again.
Yet Taylor sat back down.
He breathed deeply, forcing a smile. "Tyrosh negotiates in sincerity. Please, do not jest."
"You are patient," Loren said. "Why do you think we fight Tyrosh at all?"
Kraken leaned forward. "We do not need recognition. We do not need coin. We want land. All of it."
"We have dragons. Five. Four larger than any ship you sail."
"Against Tyrosh, one dragon is enough."
The words crushed the last of Taylor's illusions.
Tyrosh had never been a rival. It was prey.
A guard burst into the hall. "My lords, a fleet approaches Drakoncrest from the east."
Kraken's gaze snapped to Taylor. "So that is your plan."
He barked orders. "Arm every able man. Distribute weapons."
Taylor was seized and dragged away, Kraken ordering that he be kept alive.
"I will go to the Dragonpit," Kraken said to Loren. "You rally the men."
Loren nodded. "Be cautious. Dragons are not men."
Five thousand suits of Hightower armor awaited distribution.
Even without dragons, such a force would have been formidable.
With them, it would be unstoppable.
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A/N:
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