Aegarax twitched his nostrils suspiciously and let out a low growl. Viserys understood his dragon's meaning immediately—it had caught the scent of another of its kind.
"Another dragon?" Viserys frowned. He had no idea that Aegarax would categorize Draezell, Rhaegor, and Samantha as different types of kin, so his mind leaped to the wrong conclusion.
Was Aegarax sensing a strange dragon in the Riverlands? Impossible. No such raven had ever reached King's Landing. Unless—
A possibility struck him. Three wild dragons still roosted on Dragonstone.
- Seasmoke often shuttled between Driftmark and Dragonstone, happily stopping at High Tide or Hull for meals. Joffrey Velaryon was always glad to provide the dragon with meat. Though House Velaryon had declined from its former glory, feeding one resident dragon—plus an occasional gluttonous guest—was still well within their means.
- Grey Ghost remained elusive, vanishing like mist. Were it not for occasional sightings by Dragonstone's dragonguard, the Crown might have assumed it dead.
- Then there was Sheepstealer, the oldest and oddest of the trio. Sightings placed it in the Vale, the Three Sisters, even the Riverlands. The sheep-loving menace specialized in raiding shepherds—not for blood, but for mutton.
Could it be Sheepstealer?
Viserys clenched his jaw, a pang of frustration striking him. 'Seven hells, if only Aegon were more like his uncles.' His son hadn't managed to hatch a dragon egg, let alone tame one. The thought was a thorn in his side.
He inhaled deeply, masking his irritation before the lords. The nobles, too, were masters of veiled expressions—even the Crown-loyal eastern Riverlords couldn't fathom why Viserys would insist on appointing a Marshal of the God's Eye now.
Was he questioning their loyalty?
Unthinkable. And even if Lucas Lothston achieved Viserys' ambitions—becoming both Lord of Harrenhal and Marshal of the God's Eye—what then? Harrenhal's remaining lands were barely enough to keep the cursed fortress from crumbling, let alone sustain an army. The Crown couldn't arbitrarily revoke or reassign lands already granted to other vassals without cause or compensation.
This might backfire spectacularly.
Viserys knew it. Yet without pressure—without a reminder—who could say how many Riverlords of the next generation would still bend the knee to House Targaryen?
The dragons had to maintain their grip.
- In the Riverlands, it meant creating the Marshal of the God's Eye.
- In the Stormlands, it meant turning a blind eye to Borros Baratheon's expedition to the Stepstones.
- In the Reach…
'Once I return to King's Landing, I'll ask my brother to name me Lord of Oldtown,' Viserys resolved silently. Oldtown—long neglected by the Targaryens—was overdue for a reckoning.
---
The tourney concluded with Lucas Lothston crowned champion. He was promptly named Lord of Harrenhal and Marshal of the God's Eye, swearing fealty first to Viserys (as the king's proxy), then to a smiling Lord Kermit Tully.
No one could guess what truly lay behind Kermit's grin.
News of the tournament spread swiftly by raven, landing on the desks of lords across Westeros.
Stormlands: Camp of Borros Baratheon
Borros roared with laughter upon reading the letter. His gamble had paid off. The meaning of the new Riverlands title was no mystery to a lord paramount: the Crown needed strong allies. More crucially, it meant royal sanction for his campaign in the Stepstones.
A victory without lifting a sword.
The North: Cregan Stark's Solar
Cregan showed no reaction. He cared little for southern scheming; his mind was fixed on the next winter. The last Long Night had devastated the North, and even in the current summer, recovery was slow.
The North needed grain, not games.
The Vale: Eyrie of Joffrey Arryn
Joffrey seemed equally indifferent—but the replacement of the Bloody Gate's commander spoke volumes. His former squire, Ser Terrance Royce, now held the post, and Joffrey had wed a Royce daughter.
The alliance between the Eyrie's rulers and the Vale's fiercest warriors signaled unshakable unity.
The Westerlands
Silence. The Lannisters were lying low—for now.
But not all realms kept their peace.
The Reach: Highgarden
Lord Lyonel Tyrell had grown into a handsome young man, wed to a Rowan girl and already betrothed his future children to the Redwynes.
Though the Reach had suffered heavy losses in the Dance—losing much of the southern Reach, including the Marches—House Tyrell had managed to stabilize their rule. In the past, the Hightowers, who once dominated the southern Reach, had been the thorn in Highgarden's side.
Bards had even jested that the Hightowers were the "uncrowned kings of the Reach."
After their fall, powerful houses like Rowan, Redwyne, and Florent remained, but none could match the Hightowers' former might. At last, the Tyrells had secured their position as Lords Paramount of the Reach.
And with their secret pact with House Vaelarys, military concerns were no longer pressing.
Only one regret lingered: they could not marry a Tyrell daughter to a Silver Dragon.
"My lord, it seems the Reach, too, will soon have a lord favored by King's Landing," mused Lord Redwyne, shaking his head. "But who? The Foxes?"
"Impossible. The Florents are too weak," dismissed Lady Jeyne Fossoway, Lyonel's mother. "Even with a royal title, they could change nothing. The Rowans, Redwynes, and Fossoways are already bound to us by marriage—we are hardly the Crown's targets."
"Mother… unless the Crown means to restore Oldtown," Lyonel ventured.
"Restore Oldtown?" Jeyne repeated silently.
That was the likeliest possibility.
"King's Landing will never allow another Hightower to rise," Lord Redwyne murmured.
---
Dragon's Nest: A Shadowed Council
Meanwhile, in Dragon's Nest, similar conclusions were being drawn.
"If I had to guess, Prince Viserys will take control of Oldtown," said Rey.
The Shadowfinger Tigarro shook his head. "I cannot say for certain. My sources have no such intelligence. King Aegon himself seems unaware of Viserys' actions—the appointment of the Gods' Eye Marshal was made without his knowledge. Unless, of course, my informants are mistaken."
He turned to Draezell. "Your Grace, though Lady Samantha's guards remain in the Red Keep, they are under close watch. Even Ser Brandon Tarly—now the Queen's sworn shield—cannot glean more. His duty is solely to protect Lady Samantha."
"Rey's guess is likely correct," Draezell said calmly. "Viserys is moving too hastily. Soon, like my fool son, he'll face reality."
At the mention of Rhaegor, Valar perked up—his daughter had been pining for the boy. "Where is he now? Harrenhal?"
"He's already left," Draezell chuckled. "The brat's grown wiser. He wisely avoided the tourney's spectacle."
"With Viserys there, even your glamors wouldn't have hidden him," Rey laughed. "Better to lay low. Progress, I'd say."
"Mm." Draezell's mood lightened. "But his true test is coming."
He could only hope the boy would rise to the challenge.
Some lessons carved themselves deep into the young:
Betrayal.
Helplessness.
Death.
Author's Note:
(This arc serves as a low-key transition toward the Blackfyre era. Re-reading source material for inspiration—updates will remain daily!)
Preview:
- Rhaegor's Expedition has ~8 chapters left before a time skip.
- Familiar faces will return, new players emerge:
- Daeron the Young Dragon—how will he differ in this timeline?
- Baelor the Blessed—with a dragon at his command.
- Original Targaryens claiming dragons.
- Aegon the Unworthy's path to the throne.
- The Great Bastards' struggles.
- House Vaelarys stepping into the spotlight.