They had long since realized that the King's heart leaned toward resolving the question of succession through a Great Council, hoping to avoid the eruption of civil war within House Targaryen.
Both Daemon and Rhaenys nodded slowly, their expressions composed but their hearts weighed down by the implications.
Seeing that they accepted his decision without protest, King Jaehaerys finally exhaled a weary sigh of relief. He lifted a hand to rub his throbbing temples before gesturing tiredly.
"Both of you may withdraw for now. Allow me some peace."
Daemon and Rhaenys exchanged a brief glance—two pairs of violet eyes reflecting shared frustration—and then turned to depart. They left the chamber with heavy steps, leaving Jaehaerys slumped against his chair with his Queen beside him, their silhouettes framed by the flickering firelight.
Although they had voiced understanding before the King, both Daemon and Rhaenys carried heavy hearts as they walked down the torchlit corridor. The summoning of a Great Council meant only one thing: the struggle for succession within the Targaryen family had entered its final countdown.
Once parted, they each moved with purpose, like rivals racing against time.
---
Daemon's Letter
Daemon Targaryen returned swiftly to his chambers, his footsteps echoing sharply against the stone floors. As soon as he entered, he barked an order, summoning a servant. He sat at his writing desk, dipped a quill into ink, and began to compose.
The letter he drafted was deliberate—sincere in tone, yet layered with subtle persuasion. Every sentence was chosen to stir his brother's ambition. When the ink dried, he sealed it with the Targaryen sigil and entrusted it to a raven, instructing the servant to ensure it reached King's Landing with the greatest haste.
---
Rhaenys's Resolve
Elsewhere on Dragonstone, Rhaenys Targaryen sat by the candlelight of her chambers, parchment spread before her. Her quill scratched steadily as she wrote to her husband, Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.
She conveyed the King's decision to call a Great Council, but more importantly, she emphasized the most astonishing piece of news: their daughter, Laena, had succeeded in taming Vhagar—the oldest, mightiest, and most majestic of all living dragons.
That fact, she declared, was not merely fortune but destiny. Vhagar's allegiance was proof of their family's claim. With such a beast, their house could stand above all others. Her words were not only information but also rallying cries, urging Corlys to seize the advantage.
---
Viserys in King's Landing
In the Red Keep, Viserys Targaryen broke the seal of Daemon's raven with restless hands. His eyes scanned the words, widening briefly with shock before narrowing in dawning realization. Surprise swiftly gave way to excitement, his heart pounding with sudden purpose.
A Great Council? The very opportunity he had long awaited!
He wasted no time. Summoning his closest allies, he began weaving his web across Westeros. Letters were dispatched with dizzying speed, and quiet messengers carried whispers to every corner of the realm.
Viserys promised power to the great lords, influence to the ambitious, and rewards to those willing to lend their voices in support. He painted himself as the natural heir, the rightful prince who would bring stability to the realm.
Though he no longer possessed a dragon mount, he compensated with charisma, persistence, and promises. By the time the ravens took flight from King's Landing, Viserys's campaign had already begun to take root.
---
The Sea Snake's Ambition
In another wing of the Red Keep, Corlys Velaryon received Rhaenys's letter. His eyes devoured the words, and as he reached the part about Laena taming Vhagar, a broad smile spread across his face. Relief, pride, and triumph mingled together.
His daughter, bonded with the mightiest dragon alive—what better omen could a father ask for? With that, their family possessed a weapon unmatched, a symbol of strength none could ignore.
Buoyed by confidence, Corlys wasted no time. He launched into his own campaign, arguing for the claim of his young son, Laenor Velaryon. To every lord and ally he spoke with, he stressed Laenor's courage, Laena's great achievement, and above all, the unbroken connection of their bloodline to dragons.
"This is the blood of Old Valyria," he declared to many. "A house that has sailed every sea and now commands the mightiest dragon alive. Is this not the future of the realm?"
But reality, sharp and unforgiving, soon cut through his lofty ambitions.
---
Cold Reception
Corlys spread word far and wide of Laena's taming of Vhagar, expecting awe and support to follow like waves behind his ship. Yet, to his astonishment, the reaction was muted.
Some lords listened politely but dismissed the matter as irrelevant. Others shrugged, muttering that dragons were nothing new to House Targaryen.
Meanwhile, Viserys—dragonless though he was—gathered support with surprising ease. His campaign appealed not to the spectacle of dragons, but to tradition.
The truth was simple: all the lords remembered how Jaehaerys had once broken the sacred order of succession. Instead of passing the crown to the daughter of his eldest son Aemon—Rhaenys—he had named his second son, Baelon, Crown Prince.
That act had already stirred resentment, for it violated the long-held Andal principle:
"Son over daughter, over brother."
Viserys, as Baelon's eldest surviving son, was a candidate who aligned perfectly with that order. He embodied stability and legitimacy, even without a dragon. To many lords, that outweighed all other considerations.
They preferred a dragonless prince who upheld tradition over risking another disruption of the succession.
Corlys's arguments fell like stones into the sea—loud at first, but quickly sinking into silence.
---
Rayder's Indifference
While the great lords plotted and whispered, Rayder remained oblivious to the storm brewing within House Targaryen.
And even if he had known, he would not have cared. To him, these political games were intangible, fleeting shadows compared to the tangible thrill of strength and discovery. What use were crowns or councils when he had dragons of his own?
For Rayder, Dragonstone itself was the true treasure—a volcanic island rich with mystery, and perhaps, secrets yet to uncover.
The next morning, he rose early, changing into comfortable travel clothes. With Kidora at his side, he strode out of the castle with a smile that spoke of freedom.
But freedom, it seemed, was something Daemon Targaryen was unwilling to grant him.
---
The Hound's Watch
Like a hound shadowing prey, Daemon followed Rayder closely. Every path Rayder tried to take, Daemon blocked. Every time he neared the cliffs or the dragon roosts, Daemon stepped forward, firm and unyielding.
At first, Rayder brushed him off with irritation, waving him aside. But Daemon's persistence was absolute. When annoyance turned to anger, Rayder briefly considered commanding Kidora to blast the man aside with a gravity ray. The thought alone made him smirk.
Yet he restrained himself. Now was not the time to stir open conflict.
After several failed attempts, Rayder understood Daemon's purpose clearly: the prince was ensuring he had no chance to approach other dragons—not even the youngest hatchlings.
That realization burned.
---
The Dragonpit Confrontation
Determined, Rayder one day slipped away under the cover of shadows and made his way into the Dragonpit—a colossal cavern that stank of sulfur and smoke. Its walls echoed with the low rumble of sleeping beasts, their scales shimmering faintly in the torchlight.
Rayder's eyes gleamed as he studied the massive forms curled within. Dragons of all sizes rested there, their breaths rising and falling like the bellows of a forge.
But before he could move further, torches flared, and steel rang. Daemon and several guards emerged from the darkness, catching him red-handed.
Rayder stood tall amidst the cavern's heat, his gaze sweeping across the dragons before fixing on Daemon. His voice was edged with resentment and mockery.
"The dragons of Dragonstone can't all belong to your precious Targaryen family, can they?"
Daemon's face darkened. Without hesitation, he drew the ancestral blade Dark Sister. The slender Valyrian steel sword glimmered coldly in the dim cave, a silent threat.
"The dragons of Dragonstone are the property of House Targaryen," he declared in a low, dangerous voice. "You shall not lay a hand on them."
Rayder's lips curled into a sneer. "Unclaimed dragons are wild. And wild things don't belong to anyone."
With that, he turned his back on Daemon, dismissing him with deliberate contempt. He whistled sharply, and Kidora, along with his other three dragons, stirred to life.
---
Freedom in the Sky
If the ground was forbidden, then the sky would be his dominion.
Rayder mounted, and with a powerful beat of wings, his dragons soared upward, bursting into the open air. The sea breeze whipped across his face, carrying the scent of salt and freedom.
Far below, Daemon stood in the Dragonpit, Dark Sister clenched tightly in his hand, his expression grim as stone.
Rayder only smirked, a silent challenge burning in his eyes.
Try to stop me if you can. Let's see whether your blade is swifter, or if my dragons fly higher.
And with that thought, he urged Kidora higher into the skies, reveling in the boundless freedom that only the heavens could offer.
---
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