Chapter 92 — The Barrow Wolf and the Rising Dragon
Dragonstone trembled beneath the weight of fire and sorcery.
Atop the smoking slopes of the Dragonmont, Daemon Targaryen stood with his hands braced against the volcanic rock, sweat beading upon his brow. Silverwing and Bronze Fury towered before him—vast, ancient, and terrible—yet wholly still, as though carved from molten gold and burnished bronze. The air shimmered around them, thick with heat and raw Valyrian power.
Daemon's head throbbed with a pain sharper than dragonfire. The Shapeshifter talent that ran in his blood—wild, dangerous, barely mastered—had forced his mind into the drifting consciousness of two elder dragons. The strain burned his veins like liquid metal. But he did not waver.
Behind him, the Dragon Guards knelt with reverence. To them, the scene was divine: Daemon standing unbowed before legends; dragons bending their heads as if to a king.
King Jaehaerys, leaning on his staff, studied the scorched Valyrian runes seared into the stone.
"The gods and dragons have spoken," the old king declared. "No man will deny Prince Daemon the right to Silverwing and Vermithor. With him leading the elder dragons, we may reclaim Vhagar and restore balance to the skies."
Corlys Velaryon dabbed the sweat from his brow, saying nothing. He suspected witchcraft—Alys Rivers and Terra Uller were nowhere in sight, which only deepened his unease.
Queen Aemma folded her arms. "If Daemon takes Silverwing and Vermithor, the people of King's Landing will not like it. The city has always slept under dragon wings."
Jaehaerys nodded. "And it shall continue to. Syrax is nearly grown. Rhaenyra and her dragon will inherit the skies of the capital in due time."
The implication was clear: Viserys and Aemma's line would control the Dragonpit. Daemon's dragons, no matter how numerous, were destined for war across the Narrow Sea.
Aemma smiled, satisfied.
When the court dispersed, Daemon dismissed his attendants and made his way to the Godswood. Beneath the pale leaves of the weirwood, Alys Rivers and Terra Uller waited, their expressions solemn.
Alys stepped forward, voice soft as shadow.
"Prince Daemon, you look as though the dragonfire burned you from within."
Daemon gagged. A gout of blackened phlegm mixed with sparks burst from his throat, leaving charred marks upon the roots of the heart tree. His knees buckled; the witches caught him before he fell.
Terra's tone was urgent.
"You risk too much. Shapeshifters were never meant to force themselves into a dragon's soul. One misstep and a dragon may crush you—or cook you alive from the inside."
Alys added, eyes cold and knowing,
"Magic demands its price. Do not tempt it more than you must."
Daemon steadied himself. "I had to. Without this… none would have allowed me to take the elder dragons."
For now, the three greatest living dragons—Dreamfyre, Silverwing, and Bronze Fury—rested under Daemon's banner. With time, they might grow into a force rivaling the age of Aegon the Conqueror.
---
The Sea Snake's Suspicion
That night aboard the Sea Snake, Corlys paced the cabin like a caged tidewolf.
"Daemon wielded sorcery—he must have! Those witches meddle in things no sane man touches."
Princess Rhaenys raised a calm hand.
"Even the strongest sorcerer cannot dictate a dragon's will. Dragonstone strengthens dragon blood. The dragons chose Daemon."
She stepped closer, voice low.
"We sail with him, husband. Daemon will command the Stepstones campaign. He may rule the Narrow Sea before long. For House Velaryon's sake, you must not quarrel with him."
Corlys grumbled.
"He stole Laenor for his squire. He seized Seasmoke. Now Silverwing and Bronze Fury! He means for his sons to ride them one day."
Rhaenys smiled faintly.
"Then we make sure our children ride alongside them. Send Laena to Gael. As her handmaiden."
Corlys blinked—then grinned like a man discovering buried treasure.
---
Laena Joins Daemon's Household
Come morning, Corlys and Rhaenys presented young Laena to Gael Targaryen. The girl—silver-haired and bright-eyed at eight—bowed perfectly.
Gael embraced her warmly.
"With so many of my handmaidens returning home, I could use the help. She will stay close to my children."
Daemon recognized the ploy immediately and laughed.
"You Velaryons are generous indeed—Laenor for my squire, Laena for my wife."
But he accepted. A hostage was a gift of leverage.
Corlys bowed stiffly.
"The sea is dangerous, Prince Daemon. The Stepstones are worse. House Velaryon will stand with House Targaryen."
For now, at least.
---
The Armies Gather
Dragonstone's harbor swelled with the might of Westeros.
The Northern Winter Wolves, led by Lord Rodrik Dustin—the famed Barrow Wolf
The Riverlands Trident Legion
The Iron Fleet
The Sistermen
The Greenhand Knights of the Reach
Vale Knights
The Westerlands Golden Knights
Crownlands levies and archers
Daemon stood beside Lord Rodrik on the deck of the True Dragon. The Barrow Wolf was tall, broad, and bearded—his two-handed greatsword near as long as a man.
Rodrik scowled toward the Ironborn ships.
"I hate the sea. And I hate Ironborn more. They've raided my lands since I was a boy. And now we march beside them?"
Daemon smirked.
"Even pirates follow strength. And the Ironborn are unmatched at sea. They will drown our enemies before we burn them."
Rodrik grunted.
"Then let an Ironborn command them—a pirate for pirates."
Daemon shook his head. Ironborn captains bowed to no lord, save the one who could kill them.
---
Farewell at Dragonstone
Silverwing, Dreamfyre, Vermithor, Caraxes, the Red Queen, and Seasmoke soared above the port—an armada of flame.
King Jaehaerys watched with pride.
"Not even Aegon had so many dragons at once. Daemon—bring vengeance to our enemies."
Viserys embraced his brother.
"Come back alive."
Daemon clasped his shoulder.
"Guard our grandfather. And guard the realm."
His gaze fell on Ser Criston Cole, now wearing the three-headed dragon.
"Criston Cole. You serve my brother?"
Criston smiled handsomely.
"Aye, my prince. Captain of his guard."
Aemma interjected.
"He wanted to follow you, but I convinced him otherwise. Princess Rhaenyra is fond of him."
Daemon only nodded—and smiled a little too sharply.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 30+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics