There was nothing but silence in the solar inside the Eyrie, and for the first time that silence was almost unbearable.
Amidst the silence, there was a mix of frustration and regret, for once again Jon Arryn did not know when everything started falling apart.
For the longest time, he thought he knew the realm well. He thought that he had seen plenty to understand the ways of the world. He had lived for a long time, after all. He had seen the reigns of many kings. Most of them were disastrous. Nothing should have surprised him anymore.
And yet, here he was, confused and vexed.
Jon thought back to what he could recall about his long life, and there was plenty for him to reminisce.
He could not remember King Aerys I. Jon had only been three when the monarch passed. The man was still an enigma to this day. From any objective standpoint, Aerys I was not a man who should have ever sat the Iron Throne. He was more maester than king but without the discipline of one. Aerys I did not have the fortitude to approach his duties with diligence. Hells, he had failed at fulfilling the most basic of tasks for a monarch: securing an heir. Instead, he chose to entertain himself in his fancies which left his house weakened after his death. Perhaps there was something to be said about the man's nature that the realm suffered so much during his reign, from drought to the threat of the Ironborn. Not to mention the Blackfyres and the pointless deaths of so many of his relatives. The only saving grace for the weak king had been his more competent advisors.
Then there was King Maekar. Another man who never should have sat the throne. Not because he did not have the mentality of a king, but rather because he was so far down the succession for it to have reasonably happened. Jon remembered the man more fondly than his predecessor, however. At least Maekar had carried out his duties with discipline and grace. Apart from the rebellions with the Lothstons and the Peakes, Maekar was able to rule through a time of peace and relative stability. Unlike Aerys, Maekar had performed his duty in securing heirs at a time when a stable succession was sorely needed. Sadly, his sons were unable to continue this trend of strong leadership. One became a whoring drunk while the other was a madman who thought himself a dragon in human form, only to kill himself by drinking wildfire.
What a waste.
Aegon V was no better in the end. A weak and idealistic man, through and through. His children's failures spun a convincing enough tale about the man's character. And in the end, Aegon V was probably just as mad as his brothers as he almost brought the destruction of his own house. And for what? Mere fantasies?
Madness upon madness. It was all that Jon could say about the whole lot of them.
Out of Maekar's four sons, the one who showed the most promise was Aemon Targaryen. Sadly the man chose to remain a maester rather than take up the crown after Maekar's death.
Where would the realm be now if he had accepted, Jon wondered to himself as he sat alone in his solar.
Perhaps there would be more stability now. Perhaps there would be a king who respected the lords who served him. Instead, Jon was faced with a king and an heir who thought of themselves as untouchable. Men who acted as gods.
It was just another generation of madness.
There was nothing to check the crown's authority, and Jon had seen what that led to. The Blackfyre Rebellions were just the most prominent example in recent memory, but even before that the Dance of the Dragons proved the instability of a dragon house who acted without restraint.
With the dragons returning, Jon feared that history was repeating itself.
Just some hours ago his nephew Elbert had returned from Lannisport with grave news. It was nothing that Jon didn't already know. The ravens had been flying nonstop to the Eyrie from all corners of the Vale. These ravens were from the lords who had traveled to the tourney at Lannisport. They had much to say about what had happened, about what they had seen. None of it was good.
Then there were the ravens from Steffon and Rickard. Both were curt. Both said similar things. Both pained him.
Jon had lost his wards. The two young men whom Jon had come to regard as his own sons. They were gone. He would probably never see them again. Their belongings still remained here at the Eyrie, but both Rickard and Steffon made mentions of sending others to retrieve these items in the coming moons. Eddard was heading straight to Winterfell with his family, while Robert was heading to the Wall, without a hand and an eye. Traumatized if Elbert was to be believed.
'How did it come to this?' Jon wondered again as he sat back against his chair with a heavy sigh.
Jon was caught off guard by the revelations at the tourney. He had suspected all along that Rickard's rejection of Steffon's proposal to wed Robert to Lyanna was due to the Starks securing another arrangement. Rickard did not tell him any specifics, a sign of their deteriorating friendship, and Jon did not think to ask Steffon if he knew anything about the situation. He did not want Steffon to think that Jon was too eager about the match lest he suspect something. In hindsight, this had been a mistake. Instead, before leaving, Jon chose to give Robert a little push in the right direction, to encourage his feelings for Lyanna Stark. Jon saw much potential in the match. It would provide him with a strong alliance should the worst come to pass, and it might limit Rhaegal Targaryen's influence on the Starks.
Jon never could have imagined that this decision would lead Robert to commit such stupidity. He knew that the boy lacked restraint, but to openly challenge the Targaryens? Jon could only thank the Seven that Robert was still alive.
But where did that leave him? Somehow, the Targaryens had acted before he had a chance to. And now, not only was Brandon Stark a close friend to Rhaegal Targaryen, but the Starks and the Targaryens were going to be tied in marriage. The North would be bound to the dragons for the foreseeable future. If Jon didn't know any better, then he would say that Rhaegal Targaryen was actively plotting against him.
Jon knew what type of man Aerys was. He was not the type of king to allow one of his sons to marry a Northerner, even if it was a Stark. The man had too much pride in his Valyrian heritage to ever think of such a move. No, this union was the work of Rhaegal. Jon was certain of it, and it angered him. It was Rhaegal, that damned magical prince, that was giving Jon the most headache.
'Two Valyrian steel swords. And now armor as well….'
And the dragons. How could he forget about the damned dragons? Only one of the dragons ever got close to the tourney to be seen in great detail, and it so happened to be during Robert's duel against Rhaegal. Elbert had described the moment to him vividly. The letters of all the lords from the Vale said similar things.
They had all been in awe and in fear of the beast. Just hearing Elbert speak of the event had made Jon's palms sweaty.
Four years. In only four years, the dragons had grown so much. Jon could only assume it was the work of the damned magic that surrounded Rhaegal Targaryen since his birth.
How was that fair?
Jon no longer knew what to do. The Starks and the Baratheons were a lost cause. Rickard had chosen his side, and with Robert disinherited and sent to the Wall to live out his days, Jon had no way of influencing the future of the Baratheons. He knew little about Robert's younger brother, Stannis, but what he did know was that the boy was a firm ally of Rhaegal. Worse, Stannis Baratheon already had a betrothal set in place and with a Hightower of all people. The Hightowers were another cause of concern for Jon, but one that he was not able to give enough attention to. Not with everything else falling apart around him.
There was another path for Jon to take, but the Tullys were proving unreliable as always. Jon never had a good opinion of Hoster Tully, and recent events only made him dislike the man more. The man acted out of pure self-interest. He was another Tywin Lannister, only one that was more subtle with his actions. It pained Jon to realize that his actions had provided Hoster with the opportunity to gain a powerful ally in the North with the betrothal of his daughter to Brandon.
As things stood, Jon knew that he was surrounded. In his head, he saw the current picture of Westeros and its webs of alliances. While not having direct ties to the Targaryens, through these recent developments the Tullys were falling in line with the crown. Jon could try to forge a marriage alliance of his own, but he doubted that Hoster would go for it. Not as things stood.
'Perhaps the Lannisters might….'
In another shocking twist, word had gotten out that Aerys had dismissed Tywin as his Hand. In his place, Steffon was now the new Hand of the King. Was there a way for Jon to use that to his advantage he wondered. He had ignored the Lannisters for the most part, believing that Aerys might one day accept Tywin's suggestion to marry his daughter to Rhaegal. He did not think that the Targaryens would be foolish enough to continue with their incestuous marriages, not when the Faith was already agitated with them and their acceptance of a foreign religion.
Once again, Jon had been wrong. But was that a bad thing?
If Tywin felt slighted enough, could he be made to see things Jon's way?
It was a dangerous thought, but what other choice did he have?
Jon needed allies. He was no fool. He would not risk opposing the Targaryens by himself. He would not subject his kingdom to the dragon's fire. He did not know how powerful the dragons were, but he knew his history well enough to not chance it. Even if he never lived long enough to see the consequences of his actions, he would not leave behind a destroyed kingdom for Elbert to inherit.
Even dragons could not face off against all of Westeros together. Maegor had tried, and he failed. Jon just needed the numbers to be on his side.
There was a different thought that appeared inside his head, one that told him that perhaps he was wrong to do all of this. That his pride was getting the better of him. Aegon V's reign might have been ruinous, but thus far Aerys II had proven himself more of a stable force. Whether it was because of Rhaegal's guidance or something else, the fact remained. Were there not reports from the merchants and others who frequently sailed to Gulltown from King's Landing who spoke of the advancements of the city? Even throughout the Crownlands, the mood of the smallfolk and the lords alike were one of happiness and contentment. The lords were getting richer from the new roads and safe travel and all the trading while the smallfolk were safe and well-fed. Then there were the talks of this new dragonstone that the Targaryens were able to create.
If the Targaryens could accomplish this much in four years, what could they do in twenty? Rhaegal would no doubt prove himself to be an even better king than his father if these achievements were any indication.
Was the realm not prospering?
The past mistakes did not always have to be repeated. It was the opposite. Did the past not exist to teach them not to repeat the same mistakes in the future?
Jon would be ashamed to admit that he allowed himself to falter in the following days. He almost listened to that voice, for he could not dismiss the achievements of the Targaryens and the stability that they brought.
But then, that hesitation faded away into the wind in the following moons as more news reached him from King's Landing.
Both Rhaegal and Rhaegar Targaryen were to be wed, and their respective brides made Jon's heart stop.
It was just as he thought.
The arrogance of the Targaryens knew no bounds, and Jon once again realized that they were only one step away from seeing more ruin.
---
There was quite nothing like the open sea. The smells. The sounds. Everything about it was soothing in a way that many probably could not understand. It was almost embarrassing for Euron to admit that the time he spent sailing in the Stepstones had been some of the most enjoyable time in his life.
The screams from the Myrish and Tyroshi sellswords/pirates were also music to his ears.
"KILL THE BASTARDS!"
"FOR THE DROWNED GOD!"
"AAAAHHHH!"
Along with the screams of pain came the howls of victory as Euron and his fleet engaged a whole group of enemy ships. They had been able to ambush the bastards right off the coast of the infamous Bloodstone island.
And what an ambush it was. The poor bastards did not know what hit them when Euron and his ships, alongside some Velaryon reinforcements, struck the pirates when they were trying to escape onto shore and hide themselves inside the cave network that dotted the island.
They were not so lucky, but then what else was new?
You see, another series of attacks had been carried out against the royal fleet for the past week. More specifically, the trading vessels had been targeted, but there had also been some reports of the warships being singled out. No doubt as an attempt to weaken their presence on the islands.
Without wasting any time, a portion of the fleet had been mobilized to intercept the enemy ships that had started to use the islands for protection. It was a tactic the so-called pirates had been employing when they realized that the Westerosi fleet numbered greater than they expected. After all, Rhaegal had ensured that there was enough manpower to secure the trade routes, and this was without the Ironborn volunteering to take part in the ongoing fighting.
These pirates were heavily outnumbered, a fact that they realized too late.
And so, another round of naval combat to fend off the pirates had commenced, with Euron as one of the commanders.
How fun.
This ambush was meant to be the decisive blow to finish off the recent round of skirmishes and finally bring some peace back to the sea.
Euron did not expect that peace to last for long.
The fighting commenced quickly. The Ironborn descended upon the Essoi pirates like a starving beast, ready to kill and loot.
Euron stood on the deck of his longship as he watched his fellow Ironborn board the last of the enemy ships with ferocity and excitement after ramming into them. Their grappling hooks secured the ship into place while a smirking Victarion led the boarding party. What followed was more slaughter as Victarion killed anyone in his path without a second thought.
It was another day in paradise, wasn't it?
While Euron enjoyed seeing his brother partake in all the senseless slaughter to some extent, mostly because it proved once again how much of a brute Victarion was, he was still a bit annoyed about his brother ignoring his orders.
'We needed some of them alive, you fool,' he thought as the battle drew to a close after the last pirate tried pleading for his life, only to have his head cleaved off by Victarion himself.
Euron doubted that Victarion could even remember his own name while in the heat of battle, so perhaps he was expecting too much from him.
Celebrations rang out on both decks of the ships from the Ironborn as they claimed another victory. It was a worthless victory, but Euron would let his fellow Ironborn have their fun.
Euron could see the rest of his fleet celebrating as well.
Nearby, the galleass of Monford Velaryon, the so-called Pride of Driftmark, sailed proudly as they oversaw the boarding of the prisoners they captured onto his other ships. It would not take long before those prisoners were transported back to Dragonstone where a dreary fate awaited them.
For Euron, there was less work to be done as he oversaw the ransacking of the ships that still remained above water. These so-called pirates always had some valuables on them, be it weapons or food or even coin at times. It was a sign of their arrogance. They never expected to die in battle, and so they brought their valuables with them. That was one theory anyway.
Euron wondered how long it would take for them to get the hint. It had been nearly three years of this constant back-and-forth with little success on their part. While the royal fleet lost some ships here and there, for the most part they always won the major battles.
This one proved no different.
Double-speak aside, Euron knew the real reason for this arrogance. And it was because these pirates weren't really pirates.
"Another victory for the Drowned God on this day." Unlike when he was in battle, Victarion appeared more calm as he rejoined Euron on the deck of the Iron Vow. Unlike Monford's galleass, the Iron Vow was a longship with the sails of the kraken proudly displayed. The longship had been a gift from his father when Euron informed him of his desire to set sail in the Stepstones for Rhaegal.
Euron took a moment to scrutinize his younger brother's heavy plate armor which he wore over the heavy grey chain mail. Even when they were not in battle, his brother preferred to wear such heavy fitting armor despite the risks it posed. Something about not being afraid to drown.
'A true godly man,' Euron thought with some mockery.
"Someone bring me some wine!" Victarion shouted at one of the men nearby. The random Ironborn quickly ran to carry out the order.
Euron ignored this. "I thought I told you to leave some of the pirates alive."
"That again?" Victarion grunted in annoyance as the random Ironborn placed a cup of wine in his hand. Victarion had trained them well. "You might be happy to jump for the Targaryen wizard, but that has little to do with me. It's bad enough that we have to work with the damned Velaryons."
Rather than get angry, Euron just chuckled. "Did you forget father's orders? While you're here, you are to follow my instructions to the letter. And my instructions were to leave some of them alive."
Their father wanted to make sure that they remained on Rhaegal's good side. He saw it as a way to further advance his own ambitions for the Iron Islands.
Victarion scowled before he had a chance to savor his wine.
"What do we need them alive for anyway? It's not as if the Targaryen lets us keep any of them."
If there was one thing that the Ironborn constantly bitched about, then it was the fact that they were unable to capture any thralls for their own use. Any prisoner that fell under them was meant to be sent back to Dragonstone, not the Iron Islands.
"Father outlawed the practice."
Euron did not much care for his father's policies, but he did enjoy throwing that fact in his brother's face.
Sure enough, Victarion scowled again. "And how long do you think that will last for?"
To this, Euron did not respond. He already knew what Balon's thoughts on the matter were, and their father was already an old man. Years ago, he might have tried to spurn Balon on for his own amusement, but now he did not have that luxury. He knew all too well what would happen if Balon opposed Rhaegal.
If only Euron knew what Rhaegal's plans were for the Iron Islands. He might be able to make plans of his own. For now, all he had were guesses, and for the most part they were baseless.
"Don't think too hard about it, Victarion," Euron said as he looked past him. Monford's ships were getting ready to make for land. One of the ships signaled for Euron to follow. "Just do as you're told."
Euron ignored the fury simmering in his brother's eyes as he walked past him toward the helm of the ship.
It was time to get a move on. If Monford was sending a signal to follow, then it meant that Euron was going to have to take part in a very boring meeting.
It did not take too long for his fellow Ironborn to haul their spoils from the pirates onto the Iron Vow. The same thing was true for the rest of the fleet as the remaining Essoi ships were sunk before they set sail.
The Stepstones had no formal settlement. There were no towns or permanent residents. Only crabs and caves called these islands home.
In recent years, there had been many pirates and sellswords who had been trying to set up hovels and other fortifications on the islands for what could only be described as staging grounds. They had been unsuccessful in securing a foothold on Bloodstone, for the Velaryons had acted first and set up a fortress on the island some years ago. Supposedly it was Monford's great idea to call the fortress "Wavecrest." Real imaginative there. Although perhaps calling the pigsty that was made up of dirt, timber, and logs a "fortress" was too generous.
But it was holding, and it was stable.
Wavecrest was the biggest settlement on Bloodstone, but the Ironborn had been setting up their own posts all over the island. This had been mostly Victarion's idea. No doubt the fool thought himself clever, acting as if this meant that the Ironborn now had a stronger claim to the island.
Euron could not begrudge his brother too much for his ambitions. At least not fully. Victarion was set to inherit nothing, after all. The time he was spending fighting on these islands made him want to start owning a piece of the slice.
If only he didn't think so small. Bloodstone was worthless in the grand scheme of things. It would take years for the island to be built up, and that was only through careful planning, which Victarion knew nothing about.
Of course, this was assuming that Victarion would even be allowed to keep Bloodstone in the first place.
Euron wasn't going to spoil the surprise, though.
His fleet anchored safely on the shore of the island. Euron knew that it would not take long for his men to start celebrating and getting drunk late into the night. While tempting, Euron did not join them straight away. Instead, he stayed behind to enter the stronghold which was garrisoned by the Velaryons. Since coming to the Stepstones, Euron saw more silver-haired bastards than he had his entire life.
Shame there were no women. Shamer still that Rhaegal did not have a second sister. Shaena was already beautiful. Euron could only imagine what she would look like in a few years. Perhaps she would have the same tits that Rhaenyra Targaryen was so famous for back in her day.
What a sight that would be.
Euron dismissed those thoughts as he was allowed inside the fort with a couple of his own men. Victarion chose to head with the others back to their own small posts, wanting to enjoy his wine after the battle.
A decrepit shack acted as the keep of Wavecrest for the time being, and it was there where Monford stood with his fellow Velaryon cousins. Euron knew a couple of them. Addam Velaryon was perhaps the most formidable captain the Velaryons had other than Lord Lucerys. Then there was Daemon Velaryon and another distant cousin by the name of Aemon Velaryon.
Truly, the Velaryons had no creativity when it came to naming their sons.
The decrepit shack had a few rooms, but the main one which held the most space was always used for these after-battle meetings which Euron rarely attended. There was a round table where correspondence and a map of the Stepstones were placed. The map was one of the many which the Velaryons had stored at Driftmark. Perhaps in a stroke of irony, Monford decided to use the one that had been commissioned during Corlys Velaryon's era.
"You didn't bring back any prisoners I see." As soon as Euron stepped inside the decrepit shack, he was met with contempt from Aemon as the fool glared at him. "I thought you were going to keep your brutes in check."
Behind him, his men tensed. Even if they were completely surrounded, if Euron gave the order, they would fight here and now, odds be damned.
"Aemon, that's enough." Monford stepped in before Euron had a chance to speak. "We're on the same side."
"Sometimes I think you're the only one here who remembers that, Monford," Euron said with a small grin as he ignored Aemon. He walked over to the other side of the table where Monford stood in his shiny Velaryon armor which proudly displayed the sigil of his house. "Are we not here to win glory for our dear prince?"
As he spoke, Euron took the opportunity to once again study Monford who looked more exasperated than annoyed by his antics. The heir to Driftmark had grown taller over the past four years. He had let his hair grow, and if it were not tied in a ponytail it would fall down his back. His shoulders were broad, and he was filling in quite nicely. Unfortunately for Monford, Euron still thought that Rhaegar and Rhaegal were prettier than him.
"I would prefer it if you did not antagonize my cousin before we even started the meeting," Monford replied, causing Euron to snap out of his thoughts.
"You wound me, Monford. Are we not close friends now? Did we not conquer Skagos together?"
"I seem to recall not taking part in that battle myself."
"Hmm. Too true." Euron almost sighed. Teasing Monford was becoming less fun. The boy from before was now becoming a more serious man. Sad. "I will admit to my curiosity." Euron walked back to where he had stood, a hand on his hips as he looked at Monford. "What did you call me here for?"
He did not very much care for battle reports or updates or whatever. He would rather be lounging back in his ships practicing his new….skills than waste his time here.
"A raven came right before the battle started," Monford explained as he crossed his arms. "From Dragonstone."
That caught Euron's attention. "Oh?"
As far as he knew, Rhaegal didn't have any plans to go to war. Not yet. Things were stable here, something which Rhaegal was aware of. Euron knew for a fact that that Hightower bitch was sending Rhaegal constant updates with that candle of hers. Rhaegal never said anything about it, but Euron could feel her watching them sometimes. It was maddening that he never got the chance to talk to her in private. He had seen her at the Red Keep, but the Hightower wench avoided him like the plague. It wasn't like he had done anything to her or her family, so he could not understand her wariness. True, the Mad Maid had the kind of body that he preferred on a woman. Even though she seemed to favor loose robes when not in court, Euron did not miss her well-endowed body underneath. He would not mind deflowering her if she truly was still a maid as the rumors said. But he had yet to make any advances toward her!
"You and I will be sailing back to Dragonstone," Monford said, drawing Euron's attention back to him. "It seems as if Rhaegal has need of us for a new expedition."
Expedition?
Euron found himself becoming excited the more he thought about it.
"Where to?"
If he had any luck, then Essos would be their destination. Maybe Volantis?
Monford's response caused Euron to become confused.
"Lys."
Why in the hells were they going to Lys?
---
Rhaegal's new betrothal to both Shaena and Ashara was not announced right away. It was not because Rhaegal was planning on hiding it for too much longer. No, it was because he knew the stir that it would cause with the Faith when many were already on edge because of his magic.
'If only they knew that Shaena will soon learn magic of her own,' Rhaegal thought with some dry amusement.
It might cause their poor hearts to give out.
No, the reason for the delay was because Rhaegal knew that unpopular news were better delivered all at once. It was not just his marriage that would be seen unfavorably by the realm. Rhaegar's would as well. Better to have Serra Blackfyre secured first and then deliver news of both betrothals at once. Then, he could deal with the aftermath more adequately.
His father agreed. His mother was more neutral about the whole thing, but she did not try to argue any further.
As per his promise with Shaena, Rhaegal did not spend the next few nights with Ashara. They kept their distance. Shaena went as far to either spend her nights in his chambers or Ashara's to make sure that they were not lying to her again.
Rhaegal did not begrudge her for it.
Arthur seemed to notice the change in the air among the three of them. The young knight had not missed the rumors that were swirling in the Red Keep in regards to his sister. Rhaegal could tell that he had spoken to Ashara. Whatever she said, it must have satisfied Arthur because he seemed more at peace in the following days.
The other notable change in the Red Keep was the dismissal of Tygett Lannister as the master-at-arms. Needless to say, the news about Tywin's discharge as the Hand of the King had shocked Tygett. Aerys explained nothing to him, though, merely ordering him to leave the city and to take his Lannister men with him in front of the entire court.
Tygett left the Red Keep soon after, shamed by Aerys' public dismissal.
In his place, Aerys decided to elevate Willem Darry as the new master-at-arms. It was Aerys' way of rewarding the knight for his years of faithful service to the royal family, namely as Shaena's guard.
Shaena had not been wholly pleased by this as she had come to enjoy Willem's presence. The knight did not say much, but that was why she had liked him.
"Don't worry, sister," Rhaegal had told her. "Where you're going, Ser Willem cannot follow."
For the foreseeable future, Shaena would have to leave the Red Keep and resettle on Dragonstone. Ser Willem's talents would be better served in the Red Keep.
Ashara would not be accompanying them either. She was to remain in the Red Keep with the other ladies of Shaena's circle. It was a burden she was willing to bear, and by that she meant enduring the endless gossip that the handmaidens occupied their time with.
"Is everything going to be safe?" she had asked while they hid themselves in the Maidenvault one afternoon.
"Arthur and Rhaegar will be there. I think everything will be okay. I'm not a bad fighter myself, you know."
Rhaegal forgot that Jon was also coming.
Ashara had not laughed. Rhaegal knew why. Going to the Free Cities for what was essentially a war declaration against the Golden Company during these times was dangerous. After all, Lys was actively working to undermine the Iron Throne. Not that they knew that he knew....if that made sense.
Rhaegal was eager to see what kind of expressions the pompous magisters would have on their faces when he arrived with his dragons.
Daeron and Jaehaerys were not happy that they were staying behind while Rhaegal, Rhaegar, and Shaena went off to have their own adventures.
"Comes with age," Shaena taunted Daeron before they left. "Grow a bit before you start complaining."
Despite the jest, Rhaegal could see that Daeron was happy to have Shaena acting like her old self again. No doubt the two weeks before Rhaegal's return must have been difficult for his younger brother.
Hopefully something like that never happened again.
Rhaegal, Rhaegar, and Shaena enjoyed one last family meal for the foreseeable future before they left King's Landing the next morning. The three of them were dressed in their riding gear and flew to Dragonstone on their dragons while Arthur, Jon, and Melisandre sailed to the island.
'It feels good to be back, doesn't it?' Rhaegal thought with satisfaction as they neared the island.
Ancalagon let out deep rumbles from within his belly as he agreed with Rhaegal. The dragon's favorite location was Dragonstone as well. It was just another thing they had in common.
The island was busier than it had been in years. Even up high, Rhaegal could see all the red priests and Dragonkeepers moving about in the castle's main yard. Malora must have reported their approach. That, or they heard Azurax. The dragon was not shy to make herself known as she let out powerful and loud roars with a joyful Shaena encouraging the she-dragon.
'I wonder if the dragon influences the rider or if the rider influences the dragon,' Rhaegal mused when he noticed the difference in personalities between Azurax and Aegorax. Much like Rhaegar, the white and red dragon was calmer and less likely to be short-tempered with others. Rhaegal knew that, apart from Moonlight, Aegorax was the dragonkeepers' favored dragon for how calm and agreeable he was.
Ancalagon was the first to land inside the castle yard. Azurax and Aegorax were going to have to wait their turn as the dragons were too big to fit all at once.
"Prince Rhaegal! Welcome! We are gladdened by your return!" The head Dragonkeeper of the island greeted Rhaegal first. He was an older man, formerly a red priest. Or perhaps Rhaegal should say that he was a mix of the two? Rhaegal vaguely recalled the man swearing himself to him alone, ready to leave behind his temple if need be.
Such devotion was highly coveted, and so Rhaegal accepted him into his ranks.
The rest of the Dragonkeepers stationed here were mostly residents of the island. They possessed the Valyrian looks and the blood as well. They had been personally trained by Brynden and Arthur over the past four years. They were all more than adequate swordsmen.
Rhaegal offered the red priest a nod in return as he dismounted from his dragon with ease.
Ancalagon let out a puff of smoke through his nostrils before taking to the skies again. No doubt he was off to find his favorite cave. Hopefully Bael hadn't stolen it again. Rhaegal did not want to have to break them apart from another childish fight.
'The dragons are all resting.'
Through his bond with them, Rhaegal was able to sense that Bael and the other three were all slumbering. They had sensed Rhaegal's approach, but rather than come out to meet him they decided to stay inside their caves and continue to nap.
Lazy bunch.
A few minutes later both Shaena and Rhaegar were dismounted from their dragons. Then the dragons took off flying to the Dragonmont to join the others.
Always so restless.
The three of them did not get very far into Dragonstone before they were greeted by a smiling Aemon. Despite his departure from the Night's Watch, their uncle still wore his dark robes with his maester's chain.
"My children! Welcome, welcome. Words cannot describe the joy I feel at seeing you all safe and healthy."
"Uncle!" Shaena happily embraced the old man. "I'm happy that you're still alive!"
Rhaegar sighed.
"Shaena. That's not a proper thing to say."
Aemon did not seem bothered by it. "Haha. It's quite alright, Rhaegar. Our dear princess speaks true. I'm not a young man anymore."
"I'm certain you'll be sticking around for some years yet, uncle," Rhaegal said as he walked past him with a smile. He stopped right after. "There's still so much that you have yet to see."
"Even though you have shown me so much already?"
"Indeed."
Shaena pouted while still hugging their uncle. "Hey! You can't talk about all that secret stuff and leave me out of it! Not anymore. I'm going to be learning magic with you too, uncle."
Rhaegal withheld a sigh. 'And here I told her she had to be more discreet.'
They were on Dragonstone, but still. One could never be too careful.
Aemon rubbed the top of Shaena's head with a smile of his own. "I see that your brother has filled you in already. That's good. I was starting to fear that all those scrolls were going to go to waste."
Wasn't he the one who cautioned Rhaegal about the use of blood magic? How fast a man's opinion could change.
"I believe we can spend our time talking about magic after we've settled in," Rhaegar said as he walked around them.
Rhaegal crossed his arms. "Only you have such a luxury, brother."
"And it's one that I enjoy very much," he retorted as he disappeared after turning the corner of the hallway.
"He's just jealous that he doesn't have any magic~" Shaena stuck her tongue out at where Rhaegar had been standing. "Forget about him. I'm ready to learn now!"
Rhaegal didn't doubt that.
But he wasn't here just to start Shaena's lessons on blood magic. For one thing, he was not going to be her teacher. Melisandre was. Still, Rhaegal knew that he was going to be busy in the coming days before Euron and Monford returned from the Stepstones.
'Malora, Qyburn, and Marwyn.'
Rhaegal was going to oversee their progress before he headed off to Lys. Maybe then, the black and the red would finally be rejoined.
Just maybe.