"…Vaelaris?"
The name did not echo.
It simply hung there, carried by the wind.
The man before the black dragon did not answer at once.
He looked at Alyssa carefully.
Up close, Jaehaerys could see him clearly now. He was taller than most men in the field. Broad-shouldered. Straight-backed. His hair was silver-white like their own, worn longer than court fashion allowed. His face was sharp and strong, handsome in a hard way. There were no scars across it, but a thin line ran from just behind his left ear down toward his neck before disappearing beneath his collar. His forearms showed older burns and cuts, long healed.
His eyes met Alyssa's.
They were gold.
Not the pale violet of most of their house.
He held her gaze without speaking.
Alyssa stepped closer.
"Look at me," she said.
He did.
"Mother," he answered.
His voice was steady
For a long breath, no one spoke.
Rogar shifted his stance. "Your Grace," he said quietly to Jaehaerys, "this may be some trick."
"What trick places a man on that?" Jaehaerys replied without taking his eyes off the rider.
The black dragon's tail swept once across the grass, slow and deliberate.
Rogar stepped forward. "State your name."
The man did not look at him.
Alyssa did not either.
"You were lost," she said. "The storm—"
"I remember the storm."
Jaehaerys moved to stand beside her.
"Vaelaris," he said.
The man's eyes shifted to him.
He studied Jaehaerys for a moment, then said, "You were smaller."
"I was nine," Jaehaerys replied.
Before they can speak further
A voice came from behind
Rogar cleared his throat sharply. "If you are who you claim, you stand before your king."
This time the man looked at him.
Not hostile.
Simply measuring.
"And you are?" he asked.
"Rogar Baratheon. Hand of the King. Protector of the Realm."
Vaelaris studied him.
Then gave a slight incline of his head—not deference, but acknowledgment.
"Then protect it," he said evenly
His attention returned to Jaehaerys.
He looked at the crown resting on his brother's head.
"Maegor?" he asked.
"Dead," Jaehaerys answered.
"How?"
"In the Red Keep. Alone."
Vaelaris looked at the crown on Jaehaerys' head and nodded once.
Before anyone else could speak—
Rhaena moved.
She did not walk.
She did not ask.
She pushed past her mother, past Rogar, past a Kingsguard who barely had time to step aside.
"Move."
And then she was there.
She seized Vaelaris by the front of his leather jerkin and pulled him into her.
Hard.
Arms tight around him.
For a heartbeat, he did not react.
His hands stayed at his sides.
Rhaena buried her face against his chest.
"I thought you were dead," she said, her voice breaking despite herself. "We burned offerings for you. I watched the sea for weeks."
The field had gone completely silent.
Vaelaris looked down at her.
Slowly, as if remembering how, he lifted one arm and placed it around her back.
Not tight.
Not weak either.
Just there.
"I did not drown," he said.
"That is not an answer."
"It is the one I have."
She pulled back enough to look at his face.
Her hands remained fisted in his clothing.
"I hated you," she said quietly. "For leaving us."
Vaelaris did not defend himself.
"I did not choose it."
Alysanne approached more slowly.
She did not rush like Rhaena.
She came to stand beside Alyssa, her expression controlled but her eyes fixed on him.
"You look different," Alysanne said.
"I am."
She studied him carefully.
"You are hurt," she observed, noticing the old scars along his arms.
"Not anymore."
Jaehaerys felt something settle in his chest that had been missing for years.
The black dragon behind Vaelaris shifted slightly, watching the gathering.
He gestured slightly with his hand toward the dragon behind him.
"He is Vaelkarax."
The black dragon shifted its weight but did not lower its head. It remained standing tall behind him, wings half-folded, watching everything.
"Where were you all this time, brother" Jaeharys asked
"I have been away for a long time," he said at last. "A storm took me east. Fire kept me alive. and finally I came home."
The wind tugged at his hair again.
Behind him, the black dragon exhaled a low plume of dark smoke that drifted across the field.
Alyssa reached for him then.
Her hand touched his shoulder.
He stiffened at first—barely noticeable.
Then allowed it.
"You are home," she said with a hug.
Vaelaris did not smile.
But he did not pull away.
Alyssa's hand remained on his shoulder.
For a moment, it might have ended there.
Four siblings standing together in the field.
But the field was not empty.
Steel shifted behind them.
Boots scraped against dirt.
The lords of the realm had not forgotten where they stood.
Rogar stepped forward again, more carefully this time.
"Your Grace," he said to Jaehaerys, not looking at Vaelaris now. "Whatever this is, it cannot remain here."
He gestured toward the black dragon.
"It unsettles the city."
As if to prove the point, a distant shout rose from the direction of the walls. Somewhere inside Oldtown, something crashed. A horse screamed.
Vaelaris glanced back at his dragon.
Vaelkarax stood unmoving, wings half-folded. Smoke drifted from his nostrils in slow breaths.
"He will not burn your city," Vaelaris said.
"That is not the point," Rogar replied.
"It is precisely the point."
The words were calm.
Not raised.
That made them heavier.
Rogar's jaw tightened.
"You arrive on the largest dragon any man here has seen and expect calm?"
"I expect discipline," Vaelaris said.
That stung more than insult would have.
Rogar took a step forward.
The Kingsguard shifted slightly.
Jaehaerys moved before the moment could sharpen.
"Enough."
His voice was not loud.
But it carried.
Both men looked at him.
Jaehaerys felt the weight of it then.
Not the crown.
The moment.
He turned to Vaelaris.
"You will come inside the city," he said. "As my brother."
A pause.
Then he added, "As a prince of this house."
Vaelaris held his gaze.
He did not bow.
Not yet.
But he nodded once.
"And him?" Rogar asked, glancing toward the dragon.
Vaelaris turned.
He raised one hand slightly.
No words.
Vaelkarax watched him for a heartbeat.
Then the dragon stepped back.
One slow pace.
Then another.
He folded his wings completely and lowered himself to the ground outside the outer fields, settling with deliberate control. Not submission. Rest.
The earth shook when he did.
But he did not roar.
He did not flare flame.
He simply watched.
Vaelaris looked back to Jaehaerys.
"I will walk," he said.
Rogar studied him carefully.
As if measuring how dangerous that sentence truly was.
Jaehaerys nodded.
"Then walk with me."
The siblings turned toward the city gates.
Behind them, three royal dragons stood tense and watchful.
And beyond them all, Vaelkarax lay like a shadow fallen upon the grass.
Oldtown's bells began to ring again.
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