Pre-Chapter A/N: Welcome to September, guys! Let's smash whatever goals we've set ourselves this year. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
EARLY 109 AC
Pate offered me a glass of wine. I looked at it, looked at him, and then looked over at Mother, who nodded in my direction. I accepted it happily enough, taking a healthy sip and enjoying the way it sang as it passed my throat. I had been an enthusiastic enjoyer of the liquid pleasures in my past life, and this one seemed to offer its own array of alcohol. Maybe when I finished doing the other one thousand things on my mind, I could look into making my own alcohol. Of course, we had to survive what was coming next as well.
I watched Pate walk over and offer Daemon another glass. The Rogue Prince didn't even look at the serving boy, accepting it and halving it in one gulp. He was in a good mood. Everyone was in a good mood, to be sure. Borros was calling Pate over and sending him off for some Stormlander Ale. The fact that he had somehow managed to convince Vaemond and Mother to secure new shipments of ale with every resupply that came from the mainland was impressive. I could have sworn that Mother would have cut him off after the first two. But it seemed she was much more accepting of alcohol overconsumption when it happened with men she didn't have any responsibility over.
Off to the side, Vaemond was surrounded by a few of the captains, watching them joke and cajole each other. I would have to do something about that eventually. He'd been quiet so far, but I wouldn't be forgetting that stunt he'd pulled anytime soon. The Stepstones was ours now. And it was only a matter of weeks until the Triarchy and Dorne would launch their attack.
Icarus Jordayne proved to be an even more useful tool than I expected. I didn't take his words at face value, and even now we had sea patrols stretching far and wide. It would be easy for him to tell us a later date so his people could take us by surprise when they attacked earlier. I did have a feeling he wasn't having me on, though. Just some things in the way he'd spoken of the plan and the letters he smuggled me every now and then gave me the impression he was more than happy to be betraying his Prince as he was.
I took another gulp of the wine as I felt someone slide into the seat by my side.
"Are you not going to dance?" Laena asked. I looked over at her before pointedly looking down at the 'dancefloor'. Sailors screamed shanties at each other as they jumped and spun every which way. It was a boisterous affair and far from the kind of dancing we'd been taught.
"Regardless. Dance with me?" It sounded like it was a question, but she didn't seem to get that memo, rising from her seat with just as much grace as she had taken it and stretching out a hand.
"How could I say no to a face like that?" I asked, taking her hand and allowing her to lead me to the dance floor. The height difference between the two of us was less noticeable with me in my boots and her in what passed for noble lady footwear in this one. The dreadful thing known as heels was yet to be invented, so the extra padding on my soles gave me a boost that meant I didn't spend all of it staring at her chest—would it have been such a bad thing if I did? (Bad boy, Laenor).
"This is fun," she said as we began to twist ourselves best we could in a dance as the sailors switched the tune every few minutes or so. Determined to keep us on our heels they were—well, either that or they were too drunk to focus on a single song for long enough.
"It is," I said, and I did not lie. It was fun. Dancing with her, holding her in my arms and turning her body as I wished. It was fun.
"And in a few weeks, it will be war," she said.
"It will. The Triarchy will come, and we will burn them for it. Every last one of them," I said, not even noticing the worry in her eyes as I thought over what would be the catalyst for what was to come.
"We could leave, you know? I spoke to Mother earlier. Father didn't even want to take the Stepstones. He just wanted us to clear the pirates. We've done that and then some. We could let the Triarchy have it. Let them be the ones to bleed over these barren rocks."
"Are you scared, Laena?" I asked then. It was not a possibility I considered. I mean, she was a dragon rider. And of all the mounts, hers was the most dangerous. Vhagar could probably shrug off a scorpion bolt to anything except an eye. Well, except if it went into her throat, but that was a one-in-a-billion shot. Dragons usually only opened their mouths to breathe flames, and if Vhagar was breathing flames in your direction, aiming a scorpion would be the last thing on your mind. It definitely wouldn't occur to me if I were in the same situation.
"No. No, of course not. I'm not scared of anything when I'm atop Vhagar. We're invincible," she said, and I believed her. So what then was it?
"So what is it? Because if you are worried about those we will be facing, then don't be. They know the risks. They're making the choice to come into combat with dragons. When you dance with dragons, you get burned. That's the way of the world—predator and prey."
"What? I didn't even think about them. They're enemies. That's not the issue."
"So what is the issue, Sister?" I asked before I spun her around twice and pulled her closer to me again.
"Call me by my name," she breathed. I nodded, realizing my mistake. I'd pulled her in much closer than we had been before.
"Laena," I whispered in her ear.
"Good," she said, and then we kept dancing. The moment slipped, and I wondered if I had imagined it—the heat, the tension.
"Tell me what the issue is, Laena."
"How old is Igneel?" she asked instead.
"You know exactly how old Igneel is. He hatched in my crib," I said instead, not much appreciating the distraction.
"Septon Barth says it could take a dragon up to fifty years for their scales to fully harden," she said, and then it clicked.
"You're not scared for yourself. You're scared for me. And when did you even start reading Barth? Did Bernard bring a copy with him?" I asked when it clicked just where she had gotten the information.
"Your copy, dummy. Ser Ben doesn't have an issue bringing me whatever I might need from your room," she practically gloated into my ears as the sailors switched to what felt like their nineteenth rendition of 'Drunken Sailor'. By this time, we had just about given up on trying to dance to their ever-mercurial tunes and just settled for swaying side to side while we spoke.
"We'll discuss the theft later. Back to being worried about Igneel and me. We'll be fine. There's no reason for us not to be fine. I might not ride Vhagar, but Igneel is plenty dangerous. He's near as big as Meleys and Caraxes," I said.
"Not even close. He's still got a way to go before he's as big as they are, and even then, Meleys has been in war before. So has Caraxes. Igneel—Igneel is new to this. What if something happens? If the dragon dies in war, the rider soon follows," she said.
"And you got this from the long, long history of dragons dying in war, yes?" I said, poking a hole in her reasoning.
"Meraxes and Quicksilver that we know of. And then we know that Old Ghis managed to slay over a dozen dragons in their war against Valyria. Whether we like it or not, scorpions work. Maybe not as well as arrows against humans, but they're the only weapons that can kill a dragon, and your Dornish pet said something about improved scorpion designs."
"Won't matter. Hitting a target flying as high as we should be while it rains down fire should be all but impossible. And don't underestimate Igneel and me."
"I know. But would it not be safer if you stay here instead—defend Bloodstone? Mother thinks..."
"Did she put you up to this?" I whispered, perhaps more harshly than I should have.
"No, she didn't. Calm down. I haven't even spoken to her about it yet. I wouldn't go behind your back like that. I was just going to say that Mother thinks there is a possibility that another fleet could sail from Lys to take Bloodstone directly while we face the Triarchy and Dorne."
"That's unlikely. Icarus says it will be a two-pronged attack."
"And you trust your spy that much now?"
"I trust him enough to know that he won't risk his life for a lie that silly. If he betrays us, then it will come in the form of the attacks coming much earlier than expected to give us a false sense of security and then take advantage of that seeming complacency. That is why, even now, we have men patrolling, watching. That is why we have Bernard training ravens to find their way back to Bloodstone no matter what so we can have our own rookery and get warning of an attack faster than we would from a ship being sent to warn us. We are being careful, Laena. Just as I will be careful when I face the Triarchy or the Dornish. They'll be too busy burning to use whatever weapon they think will be enough to down a dragon," I said.
"Then you will swear it to me. That you will return when the time comes. To me—to us."
"Of course, I will. I have too much I'm looking forward to for me to even think about dying to some up-jumped merchants or the Dornish. Sister, I will turn this kingdom of barren rocks into an Empire greater than Valyria ever could be," I said, and for the first time ever, I laid my ambitions bare. I wanted the Stepstones. Somehow, I had come to care for these islands more than I cared about the Seven Kingdoms. Even now I wrestled with the part of my mind that told me to leave that mess to the Targaryens while I focused on creating my empire here.
The Seven Kingdoms would always be in Aegon's image—it mattered little that he had done little to make them a unified kingdom beyond his royal progresses, and that Jaehaerys had forged them more solidly than he ever had. They would always be Aegon's kingdoms. These islands, I could make in my own image. I could decide what got developed where. I could choose the kind of people that came in here. I could do all that while securing enough wealth to make every one of my ancestors—Corlys included—green with envy.
"I said call me by my name, Laenor."
"Laena, then," I nodded.
"As for your ambitions, I have only one issue."
"I will hear it from you now."
"You said 'I'."
"What?"
"You said, 'I will turn this kingdom of barren rocks into an empire greater than Valyria.'"
"Yes."
"No, we will. You, me, Mother. The three of us. We're more than a team—we're family. We're with you in everything you do, Laenor, you know this. You and I have been together since all those years ago when you toddled after me like a lost puppy."
"Once again, that was only because you were my only route out of the cribs," I said even as she laughed against my chest. It felt good, her laughter.
TWO WEEKS LATER
A week until the Triarchy would set sail. That was the only thing on my mind now. Bernard had finished with the last of the ravens yesterday. They had all been sent out. The most trusted captains would have them on their ships, and when the attack came, or when they spotted anything, they would release the raven. It would have been better if we could get them to scrawl a message onto it, and when I had suggested it, I had nearly been laughed out of the room.
"Laenor, I think you might be one of only four people in this room that can read," Borros had said between hearty laughs. The issue with that statement was that I doubted he included himself in that list. Laena was out on Vhagar. But Mother, Daemon, Vaemond, and I had been in the room. That was four. I'd suspected the Baratheon heir couldn't read, but to have it confirmed was a blow to the gut. Especially when it came with the additional knowledge that the sailor class I intended to build my empire on the backs of were functionally illiterate.
The training blade came for my chest, and I was knocked from my thoughts as I knocked it aside. "You're supposed to be practicing with the dummy," I scolded.
"And you're supposed to be paying attention to me while I do so, so I guess the two of us aren't doing what we should," she said, and then came with her blade again.
Against all odds, Laena had actually turned out more than passable with the sword. While I didn't think I had the same entrenched sexism as most of this world, I found that I had internalized some things against my will. I had expected her to give up after a few sessions once she realized it was not as fun as she thought it was. And then when that happened, I had expected her to give up once she hit the ceiling of her abilities. Maybe that would still happen, but the ceiling of her abilities was turning out to be much higher than I had ever expected.
I leaned into her next strike, stepping into her guard and forcing her backwards. My left foot lashed forward, intertwining with hers, and messing up her footwork. She went to the ground in a huff and my blade was at her throat. Of course, that didn't mean much when she was still so much worse than I was.
"No fun," she said.
"You're no fun," I heard her echo as I turned towards Ser Ben with the thought on my mind. He had been in the room as well.
"Can you read, Ser Ben?" I asked.
"Somewhat," he replied, looking confused at the question.
"What does that mean?"
"I can read the Seven-Pointed Star, but nothing else."
"What? How the hell is that even possible?" I asked. My sworn shield just shrugged, not bothering to explain further. I didn't push for now. I had to figure out some way to enhance literacy in this corner of my world. But that couldn't be my first priority. A literate but hungry population was a recipe for disaster. Literacy had to come after some sort of industrial development, or at least hand in hand with it. I'd not enjoy ruling over an uneducated population overmuch, I could tell. Being king of the idiots wasn't going to be very fun.
"Our farther-ranging scouts have spotted the Triarchy's fleets," Mother said, and that explained why we'd been called so urgently. War has come, I thought. Well, the war had been here a while ago, but still. Pate handed me a glass of wine that had been so watered down, I could barely see its red colour. Better than nothing, at least. A symbolic easing of Mother's restrictions. One I appreciated, at the very least.
"So we move tomorrow then," Daemon said, accepting his own glass and practically shoving it down his throat. I took a sip of mine as I thought it over. Moving tonight would be unwise. Flying in the dark was only possible when the dragon either knew the route or you just had to head in a straight line. In this case, neither was true. Besides, there was no chance the fleets would engage tonight. No one enjoyed fighting in the dark. With their numerical superiority, it would be an unnecessary risk, at the least.
"And Dorne?" I asked.
"Not spotted yet as far as we know, but you and Laena will fly out there tomorrow regardless," she said. I nodded. The divisions had been decided a while ago. Igneel was the smallest dragon, and Vhagar the largest. Dorne was the lighter threat, and while I felt it made more sense for Mother, Daemon, and Laena to all focus on the Triarchy while I took Dorne alone, the fact that Dorne was the only one to actually down a dragon in recent history meant we were taking them as more of a threat than their numbers would have suggested.
Pate walked out of the room while Laena seemed to take a long, shuddering breath. "Are you okay?" I whispered.
"Yeah. The waiting is killing me, though," she whispered back, reaching out to take my hand.
'Me too,' I tried to say. The words refused to escape my lips. Not just my lips, my whole head was refusing to move. I squeezed her hand as I felt myself losing feeling in that, too.
"Daemon!" I heard Mother screech as there was a crash somewhere in the room.
"Are you okay?" Laena was asking. I tried shaking my head; I couldn't do anything. Ben was at my side now.
"They've been poisoned," I heard someone say. 'No shit, Sherlock,' I wanted to snark, but the pain in my throat was refusing to subside.
Igneel. I can feel him now. Brother, help. I nearly screamed through our bond. He was flying over. His strength. He was throwing it at me best he could. The distance.
"Igneel," I forced my lips to move with the alien strength that flooded my body.
"Get the Maester!" Whose voice was that?
"No. Igneel," I tried to shout, but it came as nothing but a harsh whisper as I felt myself begin to black out.
"Laenor? Stay… brother… don't…" I felt my senses fading in and out. I felt my body being picked up. Had to be Ben. It was strange how clear my mind was. I was dying, and yet I felt… at peace.
A/N: How does it feel, hanging off a cliff? Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)( same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.