Princess Rhaenys mounted Meleys and departed Drakoncrest, the Red Queen's scarlet wings beating the air as she rose above the smoking cliffs and turned south.
Prince Aegon remained where he stood, his gaze fixed on the shrinking shape of dragon and rider until Meleys was little more than a red ember against the sky. The wind tugged at his cloak, yet he did not stir. His eyes darkened, thoughtful rather than angry.
"Your Highness," Hugh said carefully, stepping half a pace closer. "Shall we move?"
Prince Aemond leaned on the stone balustrade, one gloved hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His eyes followed Meleys as well, sharp and calculating. "Brother, we could act together. If we strike now, we can keep Meleys from ever reaching Rhaenyra again."
Aegon exhaled slowly. At last, he turned his head, though his eyes still lingered on the horizon. "No need," he said. His voice was calm, almost lazy. "We are prepared for war, yes. But the longer the board remains unsettled, the more it favors us."
Rhaenys was the Blacks' greatest weapon, and her blood gave her a weight few others carried. To kill her outright would be simple. Too simple.
Aemond frowned, lifting a hand to scratch at his temple, clearly unconvinced. "I truly do not see the need for restraint," he said. "We have five dragons. Even leaving aside Daeron's Tessarion, the other four are all grown, each over fifty meters. Meleys alone cannot match that."
Hugh nodded in agreement, his expression tightening with restrained eagerness. "Prince Aemond speaks truly, Your Highness. If we strike first and bring down Meleys, the Blacks will lose their strongest blade. After that, the rest will fall quickly. Our chances are no less than sixty percent, perhaps even seventy."
He paused, then added, "Surprise would be on our side."
Prince Aegon finally looked at them both. A faint smile touched his lips, though it did not reach his eyes. "I do not like the current political shape of the Seven Kingdoms," he said. "Ending Rhaenyra and her faction now would be easy. That is precisely why it would mean nothing."
Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but Aegon had already turned away. His boots echoed softly against the stone as he began walking toward the Dragonpit.
"I am going to Stone Hedge," he said over his shoulder. "I will return in a few days."
He slowed just enough to glance back at Hugh. "The recruitment in Tyrosh must be accelerated."
Hugh straightened at once, placing a hand over his chest. "You have my word, Your Highness. I will oversee it personally."
Suppressing defiant slave masters in the heartlands of the Disputed Lands required numbers. Aegon intended to raise five thousand Tyroshi, give them half a month of simple drilling, and then loose them upon their own countrymen. Using Tyroshi to deal with Tyroshi had been Loren's suggestion, and Aegon found it difficult to fault the logic.
Before leaving, he issued several more instructions, most of them concerning the expansion of the soap works. Each order was precise, measured, and delivered without haste.
By evening, Prince Aegon had mounted Sunfyre and set his course for the Riverlands.
Stone Hedge, the ancient seat of House Bracken, lay amid rolling plains and broad rivers. It stood south of the Red Fork and the Kneeling Stack, north of the Noble Heart and Acorn Hall, and east of Riverrun itself. To cross the Red Fork northward was to enter Blackwood Vale, where House Blackwood brooded in its forests, ever the Brackens' ancestral foe.
As Sunfyre circled above Stone Hedge, Aegon took in the land below. Years of careful tending had turned the surrounding countryside into a patchwork of fertile fields. Farmers moved steadily through the soil, preparing the autumn planting before nightfall.
A sudden hiss tore through the sky.
Sunfyre's roar rolled over Stone Hedge like thunder. Men and women in the fields froze, shading their eyes as they searched the heavens.
Moments later, the dragon descended.
Golden scales caught the dying light as Sunfyre swept downward, wings folding and spreading with practiced grace. The force of his landing sent dust, sand, and loose stones skittering across the ground. When he settled at last before the walls of Stone Hedge, vast and radiant, the earth itself seemed to tremble.
Prince Aegon sat tall in the saddle, his pale hair stirring in the dragon's heat, as countless eyes turned toward him in awe and fear.
Prince Aegon entered Stone Hedge clad in light armor, the golden sun of his house gleaming at his waist. His guards preceded him through the gates, their boots ringing against the stone, while servants and retainers drew back in hurried bows.
He had just reached the threshold of the great hall when Lord Humphrey Bracken appeared at a near run, his breath short, his robes hastily gathered in one hand.
"Your Highness," Humphrey said, bending low before straightening again, visibly flustered. "Why were we not warned? Quickly, have the kitchens light every fire. Stone Hedge must lay a proper feast before the prince."
Prince Aegon studied him with faint amusement and did not refuse the offer.
"To arrive without warning and trouble you so," he said lightly, one brow lifting, "the lord of Stone Hedge will not take offense, I hope?"
Humphrey waved a hand at once, his face brightening rather than darkening. "Offense? Never. It is an honor beyond measure that you would set foot in my halls. House Bracken will speak of this night for generations."
Aegon laughed softly. "You flatter me. I did not come merely to admire Stone Hedge. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."
Humphrey's posture straightened at once. "Say the word, Your Highness. If it lies within my power, I will not hesitate."
"There is no need for haste," Aegon replied, lifting a hand as though brushing the thought aside. "I have ridden far and deserve a little rest, do I not?"
He paused, then added calmly, "But you may be assured of this. My business here concerns House Blackwood."
At that, Aegon met Humphrey's eyes.
The lord of Stone Hedge inhaled sharply. For a heartbeat he could only stare, disbelief plain upon his face. "Your Highness… do you mean what I think you mean?"
Prince Aegon smiled, slow and deliberate.
"It is exactly what you are thinking," he said. "And I intend to involve myself personally. Still, such matters require care. We will speak of it after the feast."
Humphrey's hands curled into fists at his sides, his excitement barely contained. "Good. Good. You have my thanks, Your Highness."
From the days of the First Men to the reign of the Targaryens, centuries of blood and grievance lay between Bracken and Blackwood. To Humphrey, it felt as though fate itself had finally turned in his favor.
"Do not thank me too quickly," Aegon said evenly. "I will have conditions of my own. We will discuss them later. For now, see that I am given a room."
"Of course," Humphrey replied at once. "Please, follow me."
He insisted on overseeing the arrangements himself, guiding Aegon through the stone corridors and proudly pointing out the features of Stone Hedge that House Bracken held dear.
By the time the moon rose high, night had fully claimed the castle.
Torches blazed along the walls, and the banquet hall rang with music and laughter. Lords sworn to Bracken, their knights, and favored retainers filled the tables, their eyes drawn again and again to the high seat where Prince Aegon sat.
When the noise grew too loud, Aegon raised a hand.
The hall quieted at once.
He rose, lifted his wine cup, and turned toward Humphrey. "I thank you, Lord Humphrey, for your generous hospitality. Let me offer the first toast to the lord of this castle."
He drank deeply, setting the cup aside without ceremony.
For a moment the hall was silent. Then applause erupted, voices rising in praise.
"Prince Aegon is magnanimous!"
"Truly a kingly presence!"
Aegon blinked, taken aback.
He had only offered a toast.
And yet, judging by their faces, one might think he had already placed a crown upon his brow.