Dragonstone.
Daeron stepped off The Rogue Prince, setting foot on his family's ancestral seat for the first time.
"Prince, mind the waves," Davos cautioned, still concerned about the Prince's condition.
Daeron didn't want to think about the nightmare. He nodded perfunctorily and looked around at the landscape of Dragonstone.
He had a feeling.
He might have been targeted by "Bloodraven," or rather, the "Three-Eyed Crow."
The Three-Eyed Crow had the ability to enter dreams.
In the original timeline, his brother Rhaegar was obsessed with prophecies, and his father Aerys died screaming "Burn them all." It was hard to say the Three-Eyed Crow didn't have a hand in that.
Especially since the Targaryens were known for producing dreamers; having prophetic dreams was often chalked up to family talent.
"Is it because I changed history, or is the Dragon-Tongue Farm attracting him?"
Daeron couldn't be sure, so he didn't dare jump to conclusions.
Based on the limited information he had, the entity seemed intent on guiding him.
The first time he found the dragon egg, the entity appeared in his dream.
Now, upon landing on Dragonstone, it had shown itself again.
"Looks like I can't go to the Wall."
Daeron decided to play it safe.
The North could do whatever it wanted; he wasn't going anywhere near it.
Rumble...
The massive black stone gates built into the cliff face slowly opened. The guards on the battlements were fully armed, staring down at the group below.
Daeron looked around and sensed the atmosphere was off.
"Prince, they don't seem very welcoming," Davos whispered, leaning in close. He had seen enough of the world to read the room.
"Steady on."
Daeron signaled for calm and led his group through the Dragonstone gates.
The Stone Drum Tower stood on one side of the Dragonmont. A winding, steep stone bridge connected it to the coast, with the castle gates guarding the end of the bridge.
These structures were built using ancient Valyrian stonemasonry techniques, likely forged with dragonfire.
Once through the gates, there was still no one to greet them.
Daeron frowned.
He had sent a letter to Rhaegar in advance. No matter what, someone should have been sent to receive them.
Speak of the devil.
Out of the mist shrouding the stone bridge walked a Kingsguard in silver armor and a white cloak. He stopped in front of the group and said coolly:
"Gentlemen, please follow me."
Daeron kept his expression neutral and glanced at Davos.
Davos understood immediately. He took a step forward and demanded, "A Targaryen Prince, brother to Prince Rhaegar, has arrived. And you are the only one sent to receive him? Is this Dragonstone's hospitality?"
When the lord is insulted, the vassal must speak. He couldn't sit by while his Prince was slighted.
The Kingsguard paused mid-turn. He raised a hand to remove his helm, revealing a cold, hard face.
Oswell Whent.
Daeron recognized him instantly.
From House Whent of Harrenhal, and a die-hard loyalist to Rhaegar.
Oswell glanced at Davos. Not recognizing the man, he curled his lip in disdain.
Then, he looked at Daeron.
"Prince Rhaegar has just returned from sea and is handling official business in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Please, Prince, move to the Solar for now."
Handling official business?
What business was more important than his own brother?
And a Solar? Daeron had never heard of such a room in the Stone Drum Tower. When was that built?
"Please, do not take offense," Oswell said politely, but his tone was perfunctory. He turned and started walking up the stone bridge without waiting.
"You...!"
Seeing the disrespect from his sworn brother, Ser Jon Darry couldn't hold back.
Daeron grabbed his arm. "Follow him. Don't be rash."
This was Dragonstone, Rhaegar's territory.
He was here to ask for a favor; starting a conflict immediately wasn't wise.
"Prince, he is too rude," Ser Jon fumed.
Normal protocol would dictate that if Rhaegar and Elia couldn't welcome him personally, they should at least send the Castellan or an honor guard.
Sending a single Kingsguard to lead the way was unheard of.
Besides, the Kingsguard represented the King. Since when did they represent Prince Rhaegar?
---
The Stone Drum Tower.
The so-called "Solar" was a sun-facing room.
Part of the solid rock wall had been smashed open and replaced with glass to create a sunroom, sweeping away the gloom of the Stone Drum Tower. The whole room was bright and warm.
"Prince, please enter."
Oswell opened the door and stood there like a statue.
Daeron gave him a side-eye, marking this arrogant man in his mind, and strode into the Solar.
Inside, sunlight refracted through the glass, illuminating the many plants and flowers growing there.
The layout was tasteful—light-colored carpets, brown bookshelves, and various porcelains arranged neatly.
A young woman with smooth black hair and pale skin stood in the room. She wore a yellow Dornish gown with high slits.
"You must be Daeron."
Elia had been waiting for some time. She walked over gracefully.
Her figure was slender, almost frail, but her curves were undeniable. Under the daring cut of the Dornish dress, her legs were visible with every step.
Daeron kept his eyes respectful. "Elia?"
They had never met before.
As his father Aerys's madness worsened, his control over his children became suffocating. He forbade them from meeting any Dornishmen.
Elia smiled gently and took Daeron's hand. "It is me. When I heard you were coming to Dragonstone, I wrote back specifically to welcome you."
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Daeron looked at the soft fingers resting on his wrist, surprised by the boldness typical of Dornish women, but he didn't let his guard down.
No one liked being slighted.
Elia looked confused for a moment, then glanced out the door and understood.
"I apologize. Ser Oswell didn't mean it."
Elia expressed her regret and explained softly, "My uncle, Prince Lewyn, was injured. Rhaegar has been occupied with that, so the atmosphere on Dragonstone is a bit... tense."
Prince Lewyn injured!
Daeron connected the dots. Rhaegar had just returned from sea.
Prince Lewyn Martell was a member of the Kingsguard.
He was also the younger brother of the previous ruling Princess of Dorne, making him the uncle of the current Prince Doran Martell and Elia.
"How bad is Prince Lewyn's injury?" Daeron asked with concern.
Elia looked sad but tried to hide it, shaking her head. "It's not life-threatening. He took a wound to the calf. The Maester says he needs to rest for six months to a year."
That was a serious injury.
Daeron nodded inwardly, getting a better grasp of the situation on Dragonstone.
He turned and signaled to Davos, who was waiting at the door. Davos handed him an exquisite gift box.
Daeron presented the box to Elia. "We couldn't attend your wedding to Rhaegar. This is a belated wedding gift on behalf of my sister and brothers."
"Thank you."
Elia was pleasantly surprised; she hadn't expected a gift.
Daeron: "Open it. It should be helpful to you."
Elia was curious, but adhering to etiquette, she opened the box, which was emblazoned with the three-headed red dragon and the sun-pierced spear.
Inside lay one Gold Star strawberry and six Silver Star strawberries.
"This gift is too precious."
Elia was stunned.
As a Princess of Dorne, she was worldly and had seen countless treasures.
She had access to special crops, of course.
But that was exactly why she understood the value of this gift.
Special crops were rare enough, but high-quality ones were incredibly hard to come by.
Seven high-quality fruits of the same variety, with one being the unbelievably rare Gold Star quality... the implications were huge.
Daeron said seriously, "Rhaegar mentioned you are pregnant. I hope these will help condition your body and ensure a safe delivery."