"Is your dragon just for show?"
A simple phrase in High Valyrian left the young Rhaegor momentarily stunned. It took him a while to process what his father meant before he suddenly jumped out of his embrace, momentarily struggling to find the right words.
"Father… a dragon… a dragon isn't meant to be used like that, is it?"
Draezell chuckled, pulling his son back into his arms. "A dragon is our companion, not just a tool."
Vermithor let out a low rumble, as if sensing the moment, prompting Draezell to reach out and soothe his mighty partner with one hand. "What were you thinking just now, Rhaegor?"
"Fire and Blood," Rhaegor muttered blankly. "Father, you're not telling me to ride my dragon and burn those parasites alive, are you? But…"
"A dragon is a weapon, a deterrent, our kin and our companion—but it is not limited to just that," Draezell explained with a smile. "In Westerosi history, the most prosperous and stable era was under the reign of King Jaehaerys I. The wounds left by Maegor the Cruel gradually healed, old systems were abolished, and the common folk gained more rights. Even now, when people praise Prince Jacaerys, they compare him to Jaehaerys. Do you know why?"
Rhaegor thought for a moment before murmuring, "Because Prince Jacaerys, like King Jaehaerys, spent more time traveling the roads than sitting in castles and palaces."
"The weapon of a dragon is not just its fire and fangs—it is also its wings," Draezell said approvingly. Indeed, the true value of a dragon was not just in its destructive power but in its ability to transport its rider swiftly across vast distances.
"Rhaegor, one day, you will take my place," Draezell said with a sigh. "I will take you flying over our lands more often. Only when you descend upon a place unexpectedly will you be able to see and hear the truth of what happens there—and solve the problems yourself."
He patiently explained the deeper meaning of the dragon's presence. Certainly, one could use dragonfire to burn the disloyal and the greedy, but that was tyranny at its core. However, if Rhaegor periodically flew his dragon across the domain, making surprise visits, then even those who sought to twist or break the rules would be forced to at least put on an act of compliance. That was another aspect of a dragon's power.
Thus, when Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne traveled across the realm, the people lived in peace, and the nobles dared not stir trouble. Likewise, when Prince Jacaerys flew from region to region, mending the scars of war, the lords under the shadow of two great dragons had no choice but to yield some of their power to the common folk. However, Jacaerys carried the wisdom of Jaehaerys—when resolving issues for the smallfolk, he never pushed the nobility too far, ensuring their continued loyalty. This balance is what made him, like Jaehaerys, a wise ruler in Targaryen history.
Rhaegor nodded in half-understanding, staring at the stars above. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep in his father's arms. Draezell, however, remained awake, gazing at the twinkling sky, lost in thought.
---
The Vale, Gate of the Moon
Eldric Arryn glared resentfully at Joffrey Arryn, who stood before him, flanked by the fully armed Ser Corwyn Corbray and Ser Artis Royce. The defeated golden eagle was bound tightly in thick ropes, his noble birth and ducal lineage meaning nothing in the face of his captors.
"Joffrey, what is the meaning of this?" Eldric shouted. "You have no right to arrest me! I demand to see Lady Jeyne!"
"Eldric," Artis Royce said flatly, "the Faceless Man you hired is dead."
His wary gaze flickered toward the shadows of the keep, as if something lurked within. Artis subtly felt the temperature of his bronze rune-carved armor before continuing, "Do you have anything to say for yourself? Conspiring to assassinate your liege and her rightful heir is treason of the highest order."
"Artis, you're talking nonsense!" Panic flickered across Eldric's face. How could this young Lord of Runestone possibly know about the Faceless Man? He had ensured that every step of the process remained hidden, even disguising the sale of Gulltown as overseas trade and laundering the funds through the Iron Bank of Braavos. "By the Seven Hells, Lady Jeyne is my kin! Why would I want to harm her?"
"Is that so?" Artis Royce crouched down.
Beside him, Corwyn Corbray wordlessly drew his Valyrian steel sword, Lady Forlorn, and pressed the gleaming blade against Eldric's throat. The would-be usurper froze, not daring to move.
Artis Royce still could not believe what he had witnessed just days ago.
The Vale was the first region in Westeros conquered by the Andals, a land of fertile valleys, lush pastures, and towering mountains. Since the Age of Heroes, the warring kings of this land had built their legends on the battlefield. When the Andals arrived from the east, the bronze-clad Kings of the Vale fought them bitterly, resisting for generations. The High King of the Vale, the Royce Bronze King, battled the invaders for years until they were finally defeated at the Battle of Seven Stars by the legendary Falcon Knight, Artys Arryn.
Those First Men who refused to bend the knee fled into the Mountains of the Moon, becoming the ancestors of the tribes who continued to plague the Vale for a thousand years. Countless men of House Arryn had perished at the hands of these savage clans, including Lady Jeyne Arryn's own father and brothers.
A few days ago, the mountain clans once again rose in rebellion. Lady Jeyne personally oversaw the battle, only to be targeted for assassination. A wildling hurled a deadly spear at her, but before it could strike, the assassin was slain, and the weapon never reached its mark.
At first, Artis and Joffrey believed it was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence—until a knight changed his face before their very eyes and revealed the truth.
That damned wildling was a Faceless Man. He had been lurking in the Vale for a long time, waiting for this exact moment to disguise himself as a wildling and kill Lady Jeyne, successfully completing his mission.
Unfortunately for him, two Faceless Men sent by Prince Draezell—soon to become apprentices and assistants to Kungor Potter—were present. With their intervention, Lady Jeyne survived.
With Eldric Arryn as the prime suspect, and with his own allies exposing the massive outflow of wealth from his family, there was no one else to blame. It could only be him.
Eldric still attempted to argue, but it was already too late. Evidence or not, it no longer mattered.
What mattered was that, with Lady Jeyne's survival, the succession crisis in the Vale was officially resolved.
And so, Eldric had to die.
Ser Corwyn Corbray did not hesitate. His Valyrian steel blade cut cleanly through flesh and bone, without the slightest resistance. A severed head tumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop at Joffrey Arryn's feet.
"The Lady must not see this," Joffrey said, shaking his head, uninterested in the sight before him. Instead, he turned directly to Lord Artis Royce.
"Lord Artis, what does Prince Draezell ask in return?"
---
If you can, support me on pa treon:
Pa treon. com/ RightTranslations (No spaces)
Up to 75 chapters ahead.