High Tide, Driftmark
Hobb watched as the damned beast—the one that turned his and the stableboys' work into a waking nightmare straight out of the Seven Hells—neighed happily and excitedly, ears perked as it spotted Lord Laenor approaching from a distance. The "nightmare horse," as the stableboys called it, wasn't alone in its glee. Every horse in the stables whinnied in unison, even the ones penned in the back who couldn't possibly have seen Lord Laenor.
To Hobb, Lord Laenor was not just the heir to Driftmark and lord of its people—he was Lord of Horses too. And as if the gods themselves had heard Hobb's thoughts and translated them for the beasts behind him, all the horses bent one front leg and dipped their heads low to the earth. They were bowing—just as Hobb and the stableboys now bowed to their lord.
"Oh, you flatter me," Lord Laenor's amused, ecstatic voice rang out as he entered the clearing. The stableboys exchanged bewildered looks, just as they always did whenever Lord Laenor addressed the horses like people. But Hobb knew better. The way the horses reacted—it was as if they understood him. It was a gift. How Hobb wished the Seven had blessed him with it, too.
From a young age, his father had sent him to serve as a stableboy. His father was a cattle herder, and as the third son of his father with no patience for boredom that was sheep and goats, Hobb was thrown here. Though nervous at first, Hobb had quickly grown to adore the noble beasts gracing the stables of House Velaryon. Thirty years had passed since that day, and he could proudly claim to have witnessed the birth of every single horse here—yet none of them treated him with the same reverence they showed the lord now standing before him.
Laenor bid them rise and turned his eyes to Hobb. "How are you, Hobb? You alright? You look a bit tired. Did Pegasus trouble you too much?" There was amusement in his tone, and Hobb didn't miss it.
"You know how that temperamental beast is, m'lord," Hobb replied, giving Pegasus a narrowed look. "It only listens to you and no one else. I've had a hard time making him obey since you forbade me from striking him."
Pegasus snorted and stomped his forelegs in challenge, as if daring Hobb to come closer. Hobb scoffed—he wasn't falling for it.
"Oh, I might've made a mistake then, banning you from striking him. If he doesn't listen, should I lift the ban?" Laenor asked, eyebrows raised, lips twitching into a smirk.
Hobb watched as the proud stallion let out a pitiful whine, suddenly slinking toward him with lowered head. "Well, it seems Hobb is lying," Laenor said, eyes twinkling. "Because all I see is an obedient, noble stallion."
It was the wrong thing to say—for Hobb at least. Pegasus immediately dropped the act and tossed his head in triumph.
Hobb sighed in exasperation and watched as his lord showered Pegasus with affection, which the horse clearly relished. It was nearly an hour before Lord Laenor finished inspecting all the stallions, studs, and mares, as he always did during his visits this past year. He asked about behavioral changes, dietary habits, growth patterns—like a maester of horses.
It had been a surprise to Hobb when Lord Corlys's son returned to the stables after so many years. Laenor hadn't said anything, so Hobb assumed he'd forgotten that it was he who had taught the boy to ride. Hobb had once informed Lord and Lady Velaryon that their son was a natural—a born rider. It hadn't even been a year before young Laenor could make any horse dance to his will.
Once that became obvious, his lessons were cut short. The boy had no more to learn, they'd said. Hobb had expected him to return from time to time, not to meet Hobb but to hone the skills the Seven have blessed him with. But then the rumors came—rumors of Lord Laenor drowning. Like a flood that breaks the dam, more rumors poured forth: dragons' eggs brought from Asshai, eggs that hatched on Driftmark, thanks to none other than Laenor himself. As always, some were too outlandish, like Lord Laenor and Lady Laena breathed fire from their mouths to wake the dragons from the stone.
After that, Hobb had assumed the boy had turned his back on horses, consumed instead by dragons and the sky. Hobb, being the stablemaster of Driftmark, had seen those magnificent beasts, dragons, and wasn't surprised much by the young lord's decision, but was just unhappy.
So that first visit in years, that on behalf of their guests was a surprise to say the least, as the horses themselves bowed to him in welcome—that had been new for all of them. For the horses, for Laenor, for the stableboys, and especially for the Volantene host that accompanied the young lord. The looks of shock on those slavers' faces had been priceless. Hobb and his tavern friends laughed about it for moons afterward.
Since then, Lord Laenor's visits had become more frequent. For the first six moons or so, he focused solely on raising Pegasus—the foal that would become the largest, strongest horse in the stable. Rumors swirled. Some said Lord Laenor had blessed the beast, and Hobb found himself agreeing. Pegasus had grown impossibly fast, towering over even the older stallions.
"Master Hobb, thank you for your time, as always," Laenor said, snapping Hobb out of his thoughts. The older man looked up to see the young lord nodding gratefully.
Hobb smiled in pride and nodded back. Too kind, he thought.
"I think Pegasus has waited long enough. I'll take him for a ride."
A common enough occurrence. Lord Laenor always took Pegasus out when he visited, though where they went, Hobb did not know—nor was it his place to ask.
"He's already saddled, m'lord," Hobb said.
Laenor nodded, and with a single effortless motion, leapt onto the saddle. He gave no command, not with hands nor heels, and yet Pegasus took off, swift and sure, as if he already knew what to do.
Every time Hobb saw it, he thought the same thing:
Lord Laenor didn't command horses like the Dothraki savages who called themselves horselords—he ruled them. Not as a rider, but as a true Lord of Horses.
Laenor Velaryon
Laenor chuckled as Pegasus showed his excitement and power, galloping at full speed along the sandy beach. The horse was strong—brimming with potential—and with Laenor's magic and life energy flowing through him, he was growing into something truly unique, something powerful. Laenor had yet to choose the mare he wanted Pegasus to mate with, to breed more steeds just like him. But Pegasus was still too young, and Laenor was still figuring out how and if he could transform or evolve this horse into a true Pegasus—a winged horse—rather than merely naming him one.
The horses, much like the aquatic life, obeyed Laenor's will—something he'd discovered quite unexpectedly, a strange and fascinating development. Not an unwelcome one as well nor too much surprising as well. Considering whose power he has gotten. Regardless, Laenor was already dabbling in the creation of a new magical species. And the more time passed, the more certain he became: this would be his most difficult and time-consuming project yet. Even longer than his focimaking endeavor, which, while it had taken a full year, came with many clues and resources right from the start of the year.
And if that was not enough, Laenor chose not to walk the path of the ancient Valyrian sorcerers, which might have saved him some time, but he does not want to let loose some monstrous chimeras into the world, as no way he is keeping them on Driftmark. Instead of taking that path altogether, he focused on enhancing the species that already existed—observing how his energy, both magical and life energy of the Sea, and the divine spark in his blood, interacted with them.
And so far, the progress was promising. He had begun with horses six moons ago, but aquatic life was another matter entirely. One needed only to dive deep enough around Driftmark to see how hard Laenor was working—and the results were impressive. Large. Intelligent. And utterly devoted.
Even Krakens. That had been a relief, at least. Imagine those behemoths deciding, "Let's not serve the silver-haired man who gave us power." Laenor would've had quite a time hunting them across the seas.
Pegasus came to an abrupt halt, forcing Laenor to steady himself so he wouldn't fall off. He followed Pegasus' gaze as the mount stamped his hooves in displeasure. In the sea, something black and shiny floated—roughly the size of the small fishing boats used by Driftmark's fishermen. To a casual onlooker standing where Laenor was, it might've looked like just a rock. But anyone standing closer would've seen the large blowhole and the eyes of a killer—impossible to miss. Not for Laenor. And certainly not for Pegasus.
It was a springer. An orca.
Laenor had told that one not to poke his head out while waiting for him—but Springer is impatient if nothing else. With a great sigh, he commanded Pegasus to stay behind, then dismounted and made his way to the sea.
If you're interested in reading up to fifteen chapters ahead of this one, you can find them on my Patreon:
Patreon.com/Daeranyx_Drakonar
Your support on Patreon helps me continue writing, but rest assured, I won't be locking chapters behind a paywall. They will be available for free over time. If you enjoy the story and would like to support my work, your contribution would be greatly appreciated!