Nightfall.
Blackwater Bay was restless, the waves churning ceaselessly.
Bang!
Daeron shot his hand out, steadying himself as the ship listed sharply.
He had a private cabin on the royal ship, but the rough seas of Blackwater Bay were proving difficult for his first time at sea.
"Phew, at least I'm not seasick," Daeron exhaled deeply, trying to comfort himself.
It was worth noting that the ship was named The Rogue Prince.
A tribute to his ancestor from eight generations back. No joke, literally eight generations.
Knock, knock, knock!
Someone knocked on the door, and Davos's voice came through.
"Prince, the wind and waves are strong tonight. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Let me have a quiet night."
Hearing this, Davos tactfully left to check on other parts of the ship.
Daeron held his breath, listening as the footsteps faded away. Then, he reached into the corner and pulled out a black, furnace-like object.
When the ship tilted earlier, everything had slid into the corner.
Click!
He opened the lid of the black furnace. Inside, the charcoal was burning hot, cradling a red dragon egg.
"This thing really is convenient."
Daeron checked the egg, feeling the heat of the flames, and his mood settled.
This wasn't a traditional stove, but a specialized incubator for dragon eggs.
In this era, no one knew how to forge these anymore.
Where did it come from?
Count Owen, the miracle worker, had rummaged through the royal treasury and found this antique amongst the junk.
It also dated back to the Dance of the Dragons era, once used by some prince or another.
After the dragons went extinct, it had been tossed into the treasury to gather dust.
"The Almighty Lord Owen."
Daeron sighed, suppressing a laugh.
He took out a Solar Essence and gently placed it next to the dragon egg.
This time, there was no blinding light.
The dragon egg seemed to have had its fill for now. Upon touching the Solar Essence again, it began to absorb the energy slowly and methodically, replenishing its missing vitality bit by bit.
Based on the rate of absorption, it would drain one Solar Essence every seven days.
"The hatching is just around the corner."
Daeron was fully invested. He had a premonition that the day the shell would crack wasn't far off.
He closed the lid and shoved the incubator under the bed.
A lot had happened today, and he needed to lie down and review it all.
After he left, Alliser Thorne would manage the Gold Cloaks and assist Commander Manly in recruiting men to bring the City Watch up to its full strength of 2,000.
As long as the Small Council didn't interfere, he didn't need to worry about that.
Then there was Cersei, who had come to the harbor to see him off.
He had given her a Gold Star Daffodil, which moved her so much she nearly hugged and kissed him right there on the spot.
Thankfully, her uncle Tygett Lannister, who had always disliked Daeron, held his niece back. Otherwise, she might have actually done it.
Daeron had a motive for giving the flower, of course.
He had asked Cersei to find a way to locate a woods witch.
Woods witches were rare, and almost all of them hid in desolate places.
It was only in the last decade, with the Red Comet arriving early and magic becoming more potent, that these mystic figures had started to become more active.
Cersei had patted her chest and promised that before Daeron returned, she would find a woods witch for him.
She was very... emphatic about it.
---
The Red Keep.
"A Lannister always pays his debts!"
Cersei looked imperious as she shoved a letter into her uncle Tygett's hands.
"I promised Prince Daeron I'd find him a woods witch, and I won't go back on my word."
"Send this letter to the Castellan of Casterly Rock and tell him to get it done."
Tygett, a burly man, looked exasperated.
"Cersei, woods witches are dangerous. We don't need to take risks for an outsider."
Westeros was a backward, feudal society.
Witches, warlocks, and their ilk were viewed as dangerous and ominous. People stayed far away from them.
Who in their right mind went looking for one?
Cersei raised her chin and challenged him, "Uncle, I promised the Prince. Are you going to make me break my word so I can never show my face to him again?"
She was currently very unhappy with her third uncle, who usually doted on her.
If not for him, she would have kissed the Prince at the harbor this morning.
And right in front of Princess Shaena, too.
"You know I mean well," Tygett said, his mouth twitching. He was genuinely afraid of his niece.
"Then just do it."
Cersei smirked, adding a reminder, "Don't tell my father. Understand?"
"...Fine."
Tygett was speechless, but he didn't want to crush his niece's dream of marrying the Prince and be hated by her forever.
"Good."
Cersei hummed a little tune, her mood instantly lifting as she turned to write another letter.
The quill scratched against the parchment. This one was for her brother, Jaime Lannister.
She heard Jaime was at Riverrun in the Riverlands.
Perfect. She'd tell her dear brother to scour the Riverlands for a woods witch too.
He wouldn't dare refuse.
"I need to think of a way to get Jaime to come to me obediently. Otherwise, I won't have a good excuse to see the Prince."
Cersei put her "brilliant" mind to work.
As everyone knows, the point of Cersei's brilliance isn't that it's smart, but that it's... certainly something.
"Finished."
Cersei was satisfied. She muttered to herself, "The first favor the Prince ever asked of me. Even if I have to tie one up and drag her back, I'm getting him a woods witch."
---
Meanwhile, Daeron had fallen asleep.
The Rogue Prince drifted with the current, cutting through wave after wave.
Unknowingly, Daeron entered the dreamscape again.
This time, he dreamt he was flying in the clouds, riding a giant beast he couldn't see clearly. The heaviness in his chest was gone, replaced by pure exhilaration and ambition.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
Suddenly, the cry of crows rang out, dragging him from the sky back to the ground.
Daeron opened his eyes in a daze to find himself back at Dragon-Tongue Farm.
The cabin, the tilled land with the sprinklers, the meteorite by the mailbox...
Everything was as it should be.
Caw...
Several crows landed on the ground, ignoring the scarecrow's attempts to frighten them away, and lowered their heads to peck at the newly sprouted crops.
He looked at the scarecrow.
Its painted, comical face looked anxious. It wanted to wave its arms to shoo the birds, but realized it didn't actually have arms.
"Get lost! Damn crows!"
Out of concern for his crops, Daeron put aside his doubts and instinctively rushed forward to chase the birds away.
The crows scattered in a flurry of wings.
Caw! Caw!
Only one crow remained. It perched provocatively on the scarecrow's tattered hat.
It tilted its head, examining Daeron repeatedly.
"Why does this feel... weird?"
Daeron's thoughts were sluggish. He sensed something was wrong but couldn't put his finger on it.
A thought suddenly sprouted in his mind.
This crow looks familiar.
Daeron looked up, eyes widening, trying to get a clear look at the bird.
The crow lowered its head at that exact moment.
Above its two black eyes, on its forehead, sat a third eye—larger, rounder, and red, like a piece of amber embedded in its skull.
Caw!!
The moment their gazes met, a piercing screech tore through the air.
Daeron's whole body jolted, and he woke up with a start.
For a moment, his mind was blank. His heart was racing, and his shirt was soaked with sweat.
Knock, knock, knock!
A knock on the door dispelled his panic. It was Davos.
"Prince, it's dawn."
"We're about to dock at Dragonstone."
Daeron sat frozen for a moment, hand instinctively going to his chest to feel the violent thumping of his heart. His thoughts slowly coalesced.
"A crow... A three-eyed crow..."
Calm as he usually was, he knew this was no simple nightmare.
Creak!
Getting no response, Davos pushed the door open out of concern.
"Prince, are you unwell?" he asked worriedly.
"I'm fine. Just had a bad dream."
Daeron waved his hand, suppressing the lingering fear. "What time is it?"
Disoriented, he had even forgotten to check the system clock.
Davos told him the time and asked again, "We're arriving at Dragonstone momentarily. If you're not feeling well, Prince, I can send someone ahead to fetch the Maester."
"No need. Let's go ashore!"
Daeron swung out of bed, his composure fully restored.