Rewriting Targaryen History

Chapter 108: Chapter 108: Blood and Fire

The Red Keep knew before I reached the gates.

That was the nature of King’s Landing. A secret could die in a locked room if enough gold was spent and enough tongues were removed, but a dragon in daylight had no hope of discretion.

By the time I crossed the outer yard, servants were already staring from galleries, guards were standing too straight, and one young page nearly walked into a pillar because he refused to stop looking at me.

I could hardly blame him. I had left the city by ship. I had returned from the sky.

Rhaenyra was waiting in our chambers with all six children.

That should have surprised me less than it did. My wife had never been patient when rumour carried my name ahead of my feet, and our children possessed no talent for calm when dragons were involved.

Jace stood closest to the door, trying so hard to look composed that he looked more strained than dignified. Luke was beside him, eyes bright with questions he was clearly fighting to arrange in proper order. Rhaegar and Aerion had abandoned all pretence and stood near the table like two boys seconds away from declaring war on silence.

Viserys clutched a small wooden dragon to his chest, while Aemma sat on Rhaenyra’s hip, staring at me as though deciding whether I had become interesting enough to forgive my absences. Aeggel perched near the hearth, salmon-pink scales catching the light. The little dragon lifted her head when I entered and gave a thin hiss.

Not fear. Recognition of another dragon’s scent, perhaps. Aemma immediately copied her.

Rhaenyra looked at our daughter, then at me. "You see what you have encouraged."

"I have been here less than a minute."

"That has never stopped you from causing trouble before."

Then she crossed the room and embraced me with one arm, Aemma pressed between us and protesting the lack of space. Rhaenyra held on tightly enough that her anger, relief, and pride all reached me without needing words.

When she drew back, her eyes moved over my face. "You are whole."

"Mostly."

"That is not the answer I wanted."

"It is the answer that respects the state of my legs after two weeks of dragonback."

Jace could not hold himself back any longer. "Father, is he truly as large as they say?"

"That depends who they are and how much wine they had before speaking."

Aerion stepped forward. "Could he beat Caraxes?"

Rhaenyra gave him a look. "That is not the first question one asks after a father returns safely."

"It is not the first question I thought of," Aerion said. "It is only the first one I said aloud."

Rhaegar frowned. "Caraxes is faster in turns. A larger dragon does not always win."

Aerion looked offended by reason. "You have not even seen Dravvaxx."

"I have heard enough descriptions to know size is not the only measure."

Luke turned to me. "Did you name him Dravvaxx before you reached the city?"

"Over the bay. I tried several names. He ignored most of them."

"He answered that one?"

"In his way."

Viserys lifted his wooden dragon. "Can Aeggel meet him?"

Aeggel hissed again, as if approving the idea in complete ignorance of the danger involved.

"No," Rhaenyra and I said together.

Viserys looked wounded by tyranny.

Jace glanced toward the window, where the city noise reached us faintly through stone and height. "Everyone saw you."

"Yes."

"Then court will already be speaking."

"Court began speaking before Dravvaxx landed."

Rhaenyra’s expression sharpened at once. She shifted Aemma more securely against her hip. "My father has sent for you?"

"Not yet."

A knock came before the sentence had fully settled.

The servant who entered kept his eyes respectfully lowered, though curiosity trembled through him like a plucked string.

"My prince," he said, bowing. "His Grace commands your presence in the throne room at once."

Rhaenyra’s mouth curved without humour. "There it is."

I looked at her. She handed Aemma to a nurse and smoothed the front of her gown with deliberate calm. "I am coming with you."

"The summons was for me."

"The dragon belongs to you, the consequences belong to our house, and I am the heir to the throne. My father may demand your presence, but he will receive mine as well."

The children were listening closely now. Even Aerion understood enough to stop asking about Caraxes.

I nodded. "Then we should not keep the king waiting."

Rhaenyra stepped beside me. Before we left, she lowered her voice. "Did he truly accept the Dragonpit without trouble?"

"He disliked the city. He disliked the crowd. He accepted the pit once the keepers gave him space."

"Then he has better manners than half the court."

"That is a low measure."

"It remains useful."

We walked to the throne room together.

The Red Keep felt different beneath my feet. I had known these corridors as soldier, husband, father, and foreign-born prince with too many enemies. Now every glance carried a new weight. The guards did not simply see Othorion Galeris. They saw the man who had come back on a dark dragon no one had expected to see over King’s Landing.

That kind of sight did not fade quickly.

The throne room was already full.

Viserys sat the Iron Throne in black and red, looking frail beneath the weight of crown and metal, but his eyes were alive with an energy I had not seen in some time. Curiosity had done what politics often failed to do: it had pulled him upright. Alicent stood near the steps below him, green gown severe against the hall’s darker colours. Otto Hightower waited at his accustomed place with his face arranged into grave concern.

That expression had done excellent service for many years.

Daemon was absent, which was either mercy or poor timing.

Lords and ladies filled the edges of the hall. The Kingsguard stood bright and watchful. News had gathered them faster than royal command.

Rhaenyra and I approached the throne. I bowed. "My king."

Rhaenyra inclined her head. "Father."

Viserys leaned forward slightly, one hand gripping the arm of the throne. "You claimed him," he said.

There was no accusation in his voice. Only wonder.

"I did, Your Grace."

"The dragon seen over the city. The dark one."

"His name is Dravvaxx."

A murmur moved through the hall. Viserys tasted the name silently, then smiled like a younger man. "Dravvaxx. A strong name. He is the wild dragon they called the Amethyst Shadow?"

"Yes."

"How large is he? From below, men are already comparing him to every dragon they have heard named by their grandfathers."

"He is not Vhagar. No dragon alive is Vhagar. But he is of a size with the older dragons, near Vermithor by my judgement, though built differently. Dark scale, amethyst beneath black in the light, silver eyes, old scars, and a temper that values distance."

Viserys breathed out, fascinated. "Silver eyes."

"Very clear ones."

"And he entered the Dragonpit?"

"He did. The keepers cleared space, avoided crowding him, and prepared a dark vault. He accepted it more easily than I expected."

The king’s smile widened. "A new dragon in the pit. Gods, I wish I had seen the flight closer."

Otto chose that moment to move. Not abruptly. Otto never wasted movement when ceremony could sharpen it. He stepped forward enough to claim the court’s attention without appearing to challenge the king’s joy directly.

"Your Grace," he said, "the matter deserves more than wonder."

Viserys’s smile faded a little. Rhaenyra’s shoulders did not move, but I felt her attention harden beside me.

Otto bowed to the king before continuing. "A great dragon has been claimed by a man outside House Targaryen. This was done without royal permission, without council approval, and without any measure taken to consider the danger to the realm."

The hall quieted. There it was, stripped of poetry and dressed in law.

Viserys frowned. "Prince Othorion is my daughter’s husband."

"He is, Your Grace. He is also commander of foreign soldiers, master of a private military following, and now rider of a dragon large enough to alter the balance of royal power. We would be negligent if we treated this as a family triumph alone."

Several courtiers looked from Otto to me, eager and nervous in equal measure. Alicent’s expression was harder to read. Concern, certainly. But not the simple satisfaction Otto might have hoped for. Her eyes moved once toward Rhaenyra, then back to me.

Otto continued. "Dragons have long been the strength of House Targaryen. They are not ornaments to be claimed by any man of ambition who happens to possess silver hair. If this precedent stands unexamined, what prevents other houses of Valyrian descent from attempting the same? What prevents sellswords, pretenders, or rivals from seeking dragons of their own? The realm cannot afford such uncertainty."

He had chosen his ground well. Fear of precedent. Fear of private force. Fear of me. None of it was foolish. That made it more dangerous.

Viserys shifted uneasily on the throne. "Othorion has served this crown."

"I do not dispute his service," Otto said smoothly. "I question whether service grants the right to take for himself the highest power by which this crown rules."

The hall waited. I could feel Rhaenyra beside me, ready to strike with words of her own if I faltered. I loved her for it and did not need it. I stepped forward. Not far. Just enough that my voice could carry without strain.

"Lord Hightower advises wisely on many matters," I said. "Coin, appointments, marriage contracts, court factions, and the habits of ambitious men. His experience in those fields is considerable."

Otto’s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew praise could be a blade if held correctly.

"But in a matter of Valyria, dragonblood, and the will of dragons, the court should remember that he speaks as an observer, not an authority."

The murmur that followed was quieter than before, but sharper. I did not look away from Otto.

"House Targaryen was not the only blood of Valyria. It was the only dragonlord house to survive the Doom. Those are not the same claim."

Viserys was listening closely now. So was every person in the hall.

"My family were not dragonlords in old Valyria," I continued. "I have never pretended otherwise. We did not sit among the forty families. We did not hold the same power as those whose names were written into flame and empire. But Valyrian blood did not vanish from the world because the Targaryens carried the last crowned memory of it."

Otto’s mouth tightened.

"Dravvaxx did not ask whether Lord Hightower approved," I said. "He did not wait for a council vote. He did not examine a family tree for the comfort of men who have never stood within reach of his jaws. If he had rejected me, I would be ash on Dragonstone. If he accepted me, then the matter was judged by the only creature whose judgement could not be bought, forged, frightened, or whispered into."

A low sound moved through the hall. Not agreement exactly. Recognition.

Otto answered quickly. "Then you would place dragons above law?"

"No. I would place knowledge above presumption."

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together, perhaps to hide approval.

I went on before Otto could recover the rhythm. "The law may govern men after the fact. It may decide duties, loyalties, punishments, and titles. But no law can make a dragon accept a rider. No decree from Oldtown, no seal from the Hand, no page from a maester’s book can force that bond into being."

Viserys leaned back slightly, eyes bright again.

Otto’s voice cooled. "You speak confidently for a man whose claim has just placed new fear in the realm."

"Yes," I said. "I do."

The directness unsettled him more than denial would have. I let the silence hold for a breath.

"I speak confidently because I did not steal a horse from a royal stable. I stood before an ancient dragon who could have killed me before any man in this hall finished shouting warning. I sang to him. I approached him. I tested his will over days, with dragonkeepers present. I mounted only after he allowed it. Then I flew him, trained with him, and brought him here under control. The city saw a dragon arrive without fire, panic, or blood. That was not luck dressed as arrogance. That was discipline, preparation, and acceptance."

Otto’s gaze sharpened at the word control. "Under control, my prince?"

"Enough to enter King’s Landing without burning it, which is more restraint than some men show with smaller powers."

That earned a few poorly hidden breaths of amusement. Viserys looked down quickly, perhaps hiding his own.

Otto did not smile. "A jest does not answer whether you are now too powerful for the safety of the crown."

"No single man should be beyond question," I said. "But if Lord Hightower means to call me a threat, he should do so plainly and not hide the accusation behind concern for dragon custom."

The hall tightened again. Otto’s face remained composed, but the eyes changed. "Very well. A prince by marriage, commander of thousands, now rider of a great dragon, may become a threat whether he intends it or not."

"That is true."

The answer surprised several people. I turned slightly, enough to address the throne rather than only Otto.

"Power creates fear. I will not insult the court by pretending otherwise. Dravvaxx changes how men will judge me. Some will see strength added to the royal house. Others will see danger beside the heir. Both are reactions to the same fact."

Rhaenyra looked at me then, and I felt the care beneath her pride.

"But my loyalties did not change when I climbed onto his back," I said. "I am husband to Princess Rhaenyra, father to her children, sworn servant of this crown, and the man Your Grace sent to bleed in the Stepstones under royal sanction. If my soldiers were not proof enough of my loyalty, if my family was not proof enough, if my dead under the king’s command were not proof enough, then no absence of dragon would ever have satisfied Lord Hightower."

Viserys’s face changed at the mention of the Stepstones dead. Otto had no clean place to strike there.

I faced him again. "You are right to understand that Dravvaxx makes me dangerous. You are wrong to pretend danger and treason are the same word."

The silence after that was deep. It was Viserys who broke it. "My Hand’s duty is to guard the realm from danger," he said slowly.

Otto bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

"And Prince Othorion’s duty is to the crown, my daughter, and their children."

"It should be so," Otto replied.

"It is so," Viserys said, sharper than before.

The hall felt the change. The king looked at me, curiosity and command mingled now. "You will keep the dragon in the pit while in the city?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Dravvaxx has accepted the vault prepared for him. I will work with the keepers to ensure he remains settled."

"No flights over the city without my knowledge."

"Of course."

That was wise, and easy to grant.

Viserys looked to Otto. "There will be no talk of unlawful claiming. No man here commands dragons by permission alone, and I will not pretend parchment has more authority over them than blood, bond, and fire. Prince Othorion is of Valyrian descent, husband to my heir, and loyal to this house."

Otto bowed again, slower this time. "As Your Grace commands."

The words obeyed. The man did not.

Viserys turned back to me, and for a moment the king vanished behind the fascinated boy he must once have been. "When I am stronger, you will tell me everything. How he landed, how he answered, how the bond felt when he first took the air."

"I will, Your Grace."

"All of it."

"As much as I can put into words."

Viserys smiled faintly. "Dragons often defeat words."

"That has been my experience."

Alicent had remained silent through the exchange, but as court began to breathe again, her eyes met mine. There was caution there. Fear too, though not the wild kind. She understood what Otto understood: my return had changed the board. But she also heard what I had said about children, loyalty, and danger not being treason. Whether that mattered later, I did not know.

Rhaenyra stepped closer to me as Viserys dismissed the immediate matter and allowed the hall to loosen around us. Her voice was quiet enough for only me.

"You enjoyed that more than you should have."

"I enjoyed it exactly as much as Lord Hightower required."

"That is not a denial."

"No."

Her mouth curved slightly, but her eyes stayed serious. "You were right."

"I know."

"That confidence is attractive and irritating."

"I have been told I contain both qualities."

"Frequently by me."

The court watched us while pretending not to.

Otto stood where he had before, but the shape of the hall around him had changed. He had wanted the court to see a lawless danger. He had not failed entirely; men would still fear what I had become. But fear was not always his servant. Sometimes it knelt before the thing he wished to diminish.

I looked up at the Iron Throne.

Viserys sat above us, weary again now that the moment had passed, yet visibly pleased beneath the strain. Rhaenyra stood at my side. Somewhere across the city, Dravvaxx rested in the Dragonpit, dark and watchful in his new vault.

Otto had asked whether I was a threat. The honest answer remained yes. But not to the crown. Not to Rhaenyra. Not to our children.

And if the court needed time to learn the difference, I had returned with wings enough to make the lesson difficult to ignore.