Behind Conquest Keep lay a vast clearing within the woods.
Sunlight filtered through the branches of ancient trees, scattering dappled patches of light across the ground. The grass was spread with exquisite Myr carpets, and low tables were set with fruits, candied treats, and fragrant tea.
Several beautiful maidens sat together, speaking softly and laughing, their bell-like laughter echoing gently through the forest.
When Lo Quen appeared, leading the uneasy Daenerys, every gaze immediately turned toward them—then settled on her.
The Valyria sisters, Jaelena and Janice Belaerys, regarded her with the intimacy and curiosity born of shared blood. The moment they saw Daenerys's pure Valyria features, their eyes lit up with wonder.
Lo Quen looked around the gathered women. "This is Princess Daenerys Targaryen. From this day forward, she will reside here at Conquest Keep with all of you."
The women's cheeks flushed at once, instantly grasping the meaning behind "reside together."
Lo Quen's gaze lingered on the visibly uneasy Myrcella. His smile was gentle. "Myrcella, the feud between the Targaryens and the Baratheons belongs to the previous generation. You are all innocent. I hope you can get along well."
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed Myrcella had inherited her mother's beauty. When she saw Daenerys's signature silver hair and violet eyes, and heard her name, her heart tightened with nervous tension.
Though still young, she already understood something of the blood feud between their houses. Yet Lo Quen's calm reassurance eased the fear and conflict in her heart.
Meeting his steady gaze, Myrcella smiled faintly and gave Daenerys a polite nod. "Hello, Princess Daenerys."
Jaelena and Janice could no longer contain their excitement. Sharing the same silver hair and violet eyes, they hurried forward, taking Daenerys by both hands.
"My goodness, you truly are of the Valyria dragonborn bloodline!" Janice exclaimed, her voice bright with awe.
"The House of Belaerys greets you, dear Targaryen," Jaelena said with composure, though her eyes shimmered with emotion. "We are the surviving branch of House Belaerys from the age of the Valyrian Freehold."
"Belaerys?!"
Daenerys's eyes widened in shock as she looked at the sisters before her, both bearing the unmistakable marks of Valyria.
Though Viserys had told her bits of their family's history, she had known little—and nothing of another Dragonlord house besides the Targaryens. She had never heard of House Belaerys, one of the most ancient and powerful dragonlord lineages of Valyria, greater even than her own.
She had always believed herself the last of the dragonborn. Yet now...
As the three women stood together, overwhelmed by the revelation of their shared bloodline, the light suddenly dimmed.
It wasn't clouds but three enormous shadows that blotted out the sun.
Roar—!!!
A thunderous dragon's cry tore through the stillness of the forest.
Three mighty dragons descended from the sky, folding their vast, membranous wings. The wind they stirred bent the grass and sent the maidens' long hair streaming wildly.
At the forefront was Blooddancer, now over fifty feet long. Its body was covered in dark red scales that gleamed like congealed blood. Its slender, serpentine neck coiled as molten gold eyes fixed on Lo Quen. The enormous head dipped slightly, releasing a deep, affectionate rumble while hot breath reeking of sulfur billowed from its nostrils.
Lo Quen reached out and stroked its hard, ridged scales.
Following close behind were Duskshadow and Silverfall, each nearly forty feet long.
They too gave deep, echoing roars.
"Dragons!"
Daenerys gasped in near-reverent awe, her violet eyes lighting up as something ancient and powerful stirred within her blood. A rush of yearning and wonder filled her chest—this was the most primal call echoing from the depths of her lineage.
All fear vanished. The world around her faded until there was nothing left but the three mythical creatures before her.
She stepped forward unconsciously, her trembling hand reaching toward the nearest dragon—Blooddancer—longing to touch the scales she had dreamed of since childhood.
Roar—!!!
Blooddancer's head snapped around, molten-gold eyes locking instantly on Daenerys.
It bared its massive jaws and unleashed a low, warning roar. A foul wind surged toward her, hot and reeking of sulfur.
Daenerys let out a scream as if struck by force. Her legs gave way, and she fell backward onto the grass, fear consuming every trace of her awe.
"Blooddancer, stop!" Lo Quen commanded.
The dragon's enormous head froze. The fire building in its throat died down, suppressed by its master's will.
It growled in displeasure, molten eyes flashing with warning as it glared once at Daenerys before lowering its head again, pressing it obediently against Lo Quen's waiting hand.
Lo Quen walked over to the trembling girl and helped her to her feet.
Her body was still shaking, her violet eyes filled with lingering terror and a trace of sorrow.
Lo Quen spoke calmly. "Dany, Blooddancer, Duskshadow, and Silverfall were all hatched and bound to me through a blood magic ritual using my bloodline. The Valyria Dragonlords commanded dragons through their blood—but that power was, at its core, a magical contract rooted in blood itself. The Targaryen bloodline cannot command dragons bound to my lineage."
Daenerys was stunned.
So... the ability to master dragons wasn't a gift of birth, but the result of blood magic? Was Valyria's splendor built upon such sorcery?
She looked at Lo Quen, his hand resting calmly on Blooddancer's scarlet scales, and for the first time, she began to truly understand the depth of his power.
After spending some time speaking with the ladies in the garden, Lo Quen called Jaelena aside and returned to the Great Hall.
He said to her, "Make preparations. The fifteen thousand Dothraki prisoners we have won't be enough for Viserys to cause real chaos in Westeros. It's time we head back to the Dothraki Sea and gather more."
Viserys's landing in the Seven Kingdoms was a key part of his plan. He had waited until now to ensure the realm was thoroughly divided.
Once Viserys invaded, the noble houses—each bound by blood feuds—would never stand united.
Even so, fifteen thousand men were far too few. With Viserys's fool of a brain, he'd be lucky to last a few months before being crushed.
And Lo Quen's intention was not merely to stir trouble in Westeros.
He hadn't forgotten Dorne—or that little Aegon.
By lending Viserys an army and announcing his betrothal to Princess Arianne of Dorne, he wanted to see if Doran, that cautious turtle, could keep his composure.
And if Viserys landed, would little Aegon dare keep hiding? The Golden Company would likely panic, hounding the Cheese merchant daily to march his forces.
"As you command, Your Grace!"
Jaelena bowed deeply, her eyes alight with battle fervor.
Lo Quen turned to his spymaster, Meizo. "Send word to Luo Wen. Order him to lead ten thousand troops of the Yi Ti Guard to garrison the border with Volantis. Braavos is too far to pose a threat, but Volantis is not. Station him there—and without my command, not even a single rat from Volantis crosses that border."
"Yes, Your Grace," Meizo answered gravely.
...
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