Chapter 83 — A Sky of Fire, A Lesson for the Sea Snake
The sky above Dragonstone split with wings.
Daemon Targaryen, armored in black-and-red plate, a cloak of deep royal purple streaming behind him, rode Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm. The dragon's long, serpentine body twisted in the clouds like a living flame. At Daemon's sides soared three ancient titans of House Targaryen:
Dreamfyre, scales shimmering pale sapphire;
Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, broad-winged and battle-scarred;
Silverwing, silver and moonlit, her wings beating with slow, regal power.
Below them, Laenor Velaryon clung to Seasmoke's back, pale as driftwood. Compared to the mighty dragons from King Jaehaerys's youth, Seasmoke was but a lean, swift creature—and terrified.
The air shook again as three smaller shapes burst upward.
Black Dreadling, Blue Sprite, and Ancalagon spiraled around Daemon like playful shadows.
Black Dreadling belonged to Aegon, Daemon's eldest.
Blue Sprite to Jaehaerys, the second.
And white-scaled Ancalagon, newly hatched, to baby Baelon.
Three sons, three dragons—three futures forged in fire.
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The Price of Magic
The volcanic heart of Dragonstone throbbed beneath Daemon like a second pulse. Here, his strange ability—his Shapeshifter's Sight, as he named it—grew sharper, stronger, hungrier.
It was one thing to rule Caraxes.
Another to nudge the minds of dragons who belonged to others.
Dreamfyre resisted fiercely.
Silverwing was wary.
Vermithor was a mountain with wings, nearly immovable.
Only the three young dragons bent easily to him—they shared Targaryen blood, Targaryen fate.
But controlling multiple adult dragons at once was like trying to steer a storm. His skull felt aflame, his thoughts pulled in four directions at once. Every heartbeat was a battle of willpower.
Magic demands payment, and Daemon paid with blood pounding behind his eyes.
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A Kingdom Looks Upward
On the black beaches and cliffs below, nobles from every corner of Westeros watched in stunned awe.
Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, towering and silver-haired
Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was
Lord Ellard Stark, grim and bundled in furs
Lord Tymond Lannister, golden and proud
Gavin Greyjoy, brine-smelling and half amused
And dozens more—Baratheons, Tyrells, Rowans, Royces, Celtigars, and Strongs.
Common folk from the fishing village screamed Daemon's name like he were some demigod. The sky itself seemed smaller with every dragon that circled him.
Even Viserys and Queen Aemma could not hide their envy. Their daughter Rhaenyra had only young Syrax. Daemon had three sons, three hatchlings, and half the sky in his grasp.
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Seasmoke Panics
Seasmoke screeched and plummeted toward the ground. Laenor barely kept his seat.
Rhaenys and Corlys rushed to him at once.
"Laenor, are you hurt?" Rhaenys asked.
Laenor shook with fear. "I—I was flying above Driftmark when Seasmoke suddenly turned toward Dragonstone. As if… commanded. When I saw Daemon's dragons around me, I thought they meant to devour us."
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A Confrontation of Fire and Salt
Caraxes landed with a thunderous impact. Daemon dismounted, calm as a king.
Corlys stormed toward him. "What madness possesses you? You nearly terrified my son—"
Daemon's smirk was a blade.
"Your son? Your dragon? When did House Velaryon, born of sea and salt, begin owning dragons? Seasmoke was claimed on Dragonstone—without permission. The law is clear."
He turned.
"Arrest Laenor Velaryon."
Kingsguard and Daemon's sworn men moved instantly.
Velaryon guards surged forward—but the sight of Vermithor and Silverwing looming above froze them.
Joffrey Lonmouth rushed forward to defend Laenor—only to be knocked flat by a mailed fist.
Beaumont Baratheon bellowed, "Stormlanders, stand with Laenor!"
Not a single bannerman beside him moved.
Jaehaerys's icy voice cut through the tension.
"Beaumont. Stand down."
The Lord of Storm's End swallowed his fury and obeyed.
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Guest Right and the Old Gods
Corlys breathed hard, glaring at Daemon.
"I have eaten Dragonstone's bread and salt. To threaten my son beneath your roof violates ancient guest right."
Ellard Stark added grimly, "Guest right is sacred—even kings have paid in blood for breaking it."
Daemon laughed softly.
"The Velaryons carry salt with them wherever they go. Convenient, no?"
He spread his hands.
"I seek no blood. Only the enforcement of dragon law."
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Jaehaerys's Judgment
The Old King stepped forward, leaning on his staff.
"Laenor's act was youthful folly. Seasmoke's choosing him does him credit… but the law must stand. Thus:"
He raised a hand.
"Laenor Velaryon will become Prince Daemon's squire.
Seasmoke will be placed under the custody of the Dragon Guard."
Corlys staggered as if struck.
Daemon bowed slightly.
"I thank Lord Sea Snake. The Iron Throne appreciates your assistance in taming a dragon."
The message was clear:
Laenor was now a hostage.
Seasmoke belonged to the Crown.
And the dreams of every ambitious Westerosi house died that day.
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Whispers Among Lords
Gavin Greyjoy snorted.
"Shouldn't have poked the dragon."
Lord Rowan murmured, "Velaryons may rule the seas, but dragons rule everything else."
Lyonel Strong whispered, "I warned them. Wake the Bronze Fury, and disaster follows."
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The Grand Council Debate
Later, Jaehaerys addressed the gathered nobles.
"Seven days hence, a Grand Council shall be held to determine the question of succession."
A wave of murmurs passed through the hall.
Corlys stepped forward.
"Your Grace, Driftmark can host the council. We have High Tide, Spice Town—ships enough for thousands."
Daemon chuckled.
"Most lords prefer beds to boats."
He gestured toward the mainland.
"Blackwater Bay is newly built, clean, and spacious. Flamecastle and Icefort can host many."
Viserys quickly agreed.
"And King's Landing can absorb the overflow."
Otto Hightower stepped in, voice smooth:
"Oldtown is richer, larger, holier. Let the Starry Sept and the High Septon witness this council."
Daemon's tone sharpened.
"Oldtown lies at the edge of the realm. These lords have traveled far enough. Dragonstone or King's Landing will suffice."
After brief deliberation, Jaehaerys declared:
"The Grand Council will be held here—on Dragonstone."
Daemon's temples throbbed. His vision swam.
The dragons in his mind roared all at once.
Power always demands its price.
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