**WHAT THEY SAW ON THE WAY**
A few months have passed since the conversation with Aerom in the tower.
Time, relentless, has continued its course. The seasons have changed, the wind has blown from every direction, the dragons have grown a little more.
And the children too.
Aegon and Orys are 14 years old.
They are no longer those little ones who crawled through the fortress corridors. Aegon has grown taller, leaner, with that natural Targaryen elegance that makes people turn as he passes. His silver hair, long to his shoulders, shines in the sun. His violet eyes look at the world with a mix of curiosity and distance, as if he were always evaluating, calculating.
Orys, beside him, is different. His dark hair, his serious gaze, his way of moving as if always alert. He does not have his brother's beauty, but he has something more: a presence. A solidity. When Orys is there, you notice.
Visenya and Rhaenys are 12 years old.
Visenya, the fierce one, the firstborn of the twins, has developed an intensity that frightens even veteran soldiers. When she walks, she does so as if she owns the world. When she speaks, she expects to be heard. And she is heard. Her silver hair, rebellious, always disheveled by the wind, frames a face that promises trouble.
Rhaenys, the sweet one, the observer, is her perfect counterpoint. Shorter, softer, with a smile that disarms. But do not be fooled by that sweetness. Rhaenys sees things others do not see. Listens to what is not said. Knows what others ignore. Her violet eyes, the same as her sister's, look at the world with a depth that unsettles.
And they feel invincible.
Because they are. Almost.
They have flown all over Essos. Their dragons have taken them to places their parents only know from maps. They have flown over Pentos, Myr, Tyrosh. They have seen the walls of Braavos from the air. They have landed on unknown beaches and walked through foreign cities.
They have fought against weak mages and third-rate mercenaries. They have won. They have always won.
Merchants recognize them when they come down to the ports. Sailors greet them with respect. Children in coastal cities run to see them when their dragons streak across the sky, pointing with trembling fingers at the enormous beasts silhouetted against the clouds.
But this journey has been different.
This time they saw something they did not expect.
**WHAT THEY SAW ON THE WAY**
They were returning from Pentos, where they had bought sweets in the markets and strolled through cobblestone streets that smelled of spices and fish. It had been a quiet trip, without incident. Visenya had haggled over the price of a necklace with a merchant. Rhaenys had petted a stray cat. Aegon and Orys had tried a fruit wine that made them laugh more than they should have.
Happy. Relaxed. Believing themselves invincible.
They decided to take a different route back. Further south, flying over small coastal villages they didn't know. Just out of curiosity. Just to see something new.
What they saw left them in silence.
A burned village.
Not from war. There were no signs of armies, no banners, no camps.
Not from dragons. The fire was different, clumsier, dirtier.
From bandits.
Bodies of peasants on the roads. Men, women, children. Thrown where they had fallen, like broken dolls.
Dead children beside their mothers. Embracing. As if they had tried to protect each other until the end.
An old woman sitting against a wall, eyes open, staring at nothing. Her mouth, open, seemed to be screaming silently.
The dragons, sensing their riders' distress, flew in circles, uneasy.
Aegon gave the order to land. Far away, so as not to frighten any survivors if there were any.
They walked among the ruins.
The smell was the worst. That sweetish, rotten smell that death leaves when it has been too long in the sun.
—Who did this? —Orys asked, voice breaking.
His face, normally serene, was a mask of horror.
—Men —Aegon replied —. Just men.
Visenya clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms.
—We could have stopped them. If we had arrived earlier...
—We didn't know —Rhaenys said, tears in her eyes —. We couldn't have known.
The four fell silent.
A heavy, dense silence that seemed to absorb all the sounds of the world.
For the first time, they understood something Aerom always said in his lessons: "The dragon is not just power. It is responsibility."
But they also understood something else. Something worse.
The world was far more terrible than they had imagined.
They were not speaking of great wars or armies. Not of dark mages or evil kings.
They were speaking of common crimes. Of everyday evil. Of people who kill for a few coins. Of people who kill for fun.
—Those without dragons —Orys whispered — live like this. Every day.
No one answered.
There was no need.
**THE PROMISE**
Before leaving, as the sun began to decline and shadows lengthened, Rhaenys looked at her siblings.
Her violet eyes, normally sweet, were serious.
—We cannot tell this.
—Why not? —Visenya asked, with a trace of fury in her voice.
—Because our parents forbade us to fly so far south. Because our grandfather said not to go near certain areas. If we tell this... they'll know we disobeyed.
Aegon hesitated.
He knew his sister was right. But something inside him protested. Hiding what they had seen... wasn't that also a form of lying?
—She's right —Orys said, supporting Rhaenys —. They'll punish us. And maybe... maybe they won't let us fly anymore.
Visenya wanted to protest. Wanted to say it didn't matter, that they had the right, that they were old enough.
But she knew it was true.
—Fine —she accepted at last, in a low voice —. We'll say nothing.
But the image of the dead children stayed etched in their memories.
Forever.
**WHAT ELSE THEY SAW**
Returning along the coast, flying higher than usual, they saw something strange in the sea.
Ships.
But not merchant ships, the kind loaded with goods from port to port. Nor warships, with their rows of oars and bronze rams.
Scout ships.
Small. Fast. With sails designed for speed, not cargo.
And flags from various kingdoms: Braavos, Pentos, even one from Qarth and Yi Ti, with their vivid colors and strange symbols.
All sailing toward the same place.
Toward Valyria.
—Look —Visenya said, pointing —. They're going to the ruins.
—Our grandfather said Valyria is cursed —Rhaenys recalled —. That no one should go near. That the air kills.
—But they're going —Orys observed.
Aegon felt curiosity.
A dangerous curiosity, the kind that has killed more explorers than any sword.
They descended a little. Just to see better.
The ships sailed cautiously, as if expecting an attack at any moment. Their crews looked at the sky, the sea, the coast, with that tension of those who know they are doing something risky.
Some carried mages on board, with colored robes and carved staffs. Others carried soldiers armed to the teeth.
—What are they looking for? —Visenya asked.
—Ancient objects —Aegon replied —. Remains of Valyria. Things worth more than gold. Weapons. Books. Amulets.
—What if they find something dangerous?
—That's their problem.
Suddenly, the dragons grew agitated.
Vhagar roared, a sharp, nervous sound.
Meraxes shrank, as if wanting to make herself small.
Valerio, who was always calm, who never got upset about anything, rose abruptly, moving away from the area with an urgency Aegon had never seen in him.
—What's happening? —Orys shouted, holding on tightly.
—I don't know —Aegon replied, also shouting —. But Valerio wants to leave. Now.
The dragons moved away quickly, as if something were chasing them, or they just wanted to protect the children.
The children saw nothing. Only sea, only sky, only the ships growing smaller in the distance.
But they felt something.
A cold.
A presence.
Something watching them from the ruins.
When they were far away, so far that the coast of Valyria was just a line on the horizon, the dragons calmed down.
Valerio slowed. Vhagar and Meraxes stopped trembling.
—Let's never go near again —Aegon said, voice firm —. Never.
The others nodded.
Another thing they would not tell their parents.
**THE CONFRONTATION**
They arrived at Dragonstone at dusk.
The sun, an orange ball of fire, was slowly sinking into the sea. The clouds, tinged pink and purple, seemed painted by a benevolent god.
But at the port, two figures awaited them.
Dareo and Elera.
Not with smiles.
With faces of fury.
—COME DOWN NOW —Dareo thundered.
His voice echoed in the port. Fishermen, merchants, onlookers, everyone stared.
The children looked at each other.
They smelled something.
Something very bad.
They landed. Dismounted. Walked toward their parents with slow, uncertain steps.
—Where the HELL have you been? —Dareo asked, his voice so loud the ravens in the tower took flight.
—We went to Pentos —Aegon replied —. Like other times.
—To Pentos? Only to Pentos?
The children hesitated.
Just a second.
But it was enough.
—You're lying —Elera said.
Her voice was not a shout. It was worse. It was an icy calm, an absolute certainty that was more frightening than any shout.
—We saw you. From your grandfather's tower. You flew south. Where you shouldn't have.
Silence.
A silence that weighed like a stone.
**THE ARGUMENT**
—Do you think we don't see you? —Dareo shouted, breaking the silence —. Do you think because you have dragons you can do whatever you want? Do you think we're blind? Deaf? Stupid?
Visenya, always proud, always defiant, lifted her chin.
—We've fought already —she said, voice firm —. We've already won. We're not children.
Dareo stepped forward.
His face was red, veins marked on his forehead. They had never seen him so furious.
—YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! —he bellowed —. You fought against cheap mages and third-rate mercenaries! Against guys who didn't even know how to hold a sword! And what if someone real comes?! What if real mages come, with real armies, with real intentions?!
Visenya did not back down.
She looked him directly in the eyes, defiant.
Dareo raised his hand.
He did not hit her. He never would have.
But Visenya saw the intention in his eyes.
They all saw it.
Elera stepped between them.
—ENOUGH!
Dareo lowered his hand. He breathed deeply, deeply, trying to calm himself. His clenched fists trembled.
Elera turned to the children.
Her voice trembled. But not with anger.
With fear.
—We're not punishing you for flying —she said —. Do you understand? We don't care that you fly. We don't care that you explore. We don't care that you're brave.
She brought a hand to her chest.
—We punish you because you don't tell us. Because we don't know if you're alive or dead. Because we die of fear every time you leave. Because we stay here, waiting, not knowing if you'll return.
Her voice broke.
—Do you know what it feels like to watch you leave and not know if you'll return? Do you know what it's like to wait days, nights, with no news? Do you know what it's like to think that the same thing has happened to you as happened to your uncles? What happened to your grandmother?
Aegon lowered his gaze.
—I'm sorry, Mother.
—Saying sorry isn't enough, son. You have to show it.
Dareo spoke again.
Calmer now. But with a firmness that brooked no argument.
—No more flights. One month without riding dragons. Only ground training. And you will ask permission for everything. Is that clear?
—But that's unfair! —Visenya protested.
Dareo glared at her.
—Unfair? Unfair, you say?
He approached her. This time he did not raise his hand. He only spoke.
—Is it unfair that your mothers can't sleep thinking you might be dead? Is it unfair that your father has nightmares with your bodies at the bottom of the sea? Is that unfair?
Visenya fell silent.
She could not answer.
—One month —Dareo repeated —. And if you complain, two.
The four nodded, heads bowed.
—Understood —Aegon said.
**THE PUNISHMENT**
The following days were hard.
Without dragons, the children felt small. Tiny. As if a part of themselves were missing.
They trained in the courtyard with swords, spears, bows. The weapons master, an old soldier from Valyria who remembered battles no one else remembered, pushed them to their limits.
—Faster —he shouted —. Stronger. Do you think the dragons will always save you?
They sweated. They bled. They fell.
And they got up.
Aerom supervised from his tower, but sometimes he came down. He sat on a stone bench and watched them in silence.
—Don't look at me like that —he told them one afternoon, when Visenya looked at him with puppy dog eyes —. Your parents are right.
—You too, Grandfather? —Visenya asked, hurt.
—Especially me.
Aerom rose and walked toward them.
—The dragon without control is dangerous. For you and for others. A reckless rider not only risks his life. He risks the lives of everyone around him. Do you want to be those riders?
—But we...
—But nothing. Learn now, while you can. Because when you're older, mistakes will have a price in blood.
Aerom's words weighed more than any punishment.
Two weeks passed.
Two weeks of training, of silence, of looking at the sky with nostalgia.
One night, Visenya could take it no longer.
She waited for everyone to sleep. Listened to her sisters' snoring, the silence of the fortress, the wind outside.
She rose silently.
Left her room.
Ran to the cliffs where Vhagar rested.
The dragon, her dragon, was there. Curled up, asleep, her slow breath raising small swirls of sand.
—Come on —Visenya whispered, stroking her scales —. A short flight. No one will know.
Vhagar opened one eye.
Looked at her.
Hesitated.
—Come on —Visenya insisted.
She mounted.
Vhagar rose. Stretched her wings. Took off.
The dragon's roar echoed across the entire island.
Windows trembled. Dogs barked. People woke with a start.
And Dareo, from his room, saw Vhagar's silhouette against the moon.
—VISENYA —he shouted.
But it was too late.
Visenya flew toward the sea, free for a moment, feeling the wind on her face, feeling alive.
She knew she would be punished.
But she didn't care.
**THE EXTENSION**
The next day, the punishment was extended.
Dareo gathered them in the great hall. His face was a mask of disappointment.
—Two more weeks —he said, without ceremony —. And if you try again, Visenya, it will be another month.
Visenya did not protest.
She knew she had lost.
She knew her father was right, even though it hurt to admit it.
Rhaenys, the most sensible, gathered her siblings that night in Aegon's room.
—Enough —she said —. This isn't working. If we keep rebelling, we only make things worse.
—What do you propose? —Aegon asked.
—Accept the punishment. Show that we can be responsible. Apologize for real. And when it's over... show that we learned.
Orys nodded.
—She's right.
Aegon looked at Visenya.
She, for the first time in her life, lowered her head.
—Fine —she accepted —. But I don't like it.
—You don't have to like it —Rhaenys said —. It just has to work.
**THE FORGIVENESS**
The weeks passed.
The children trained, obeyed, asked permission for everything. When the month ended, they asked to speak with their parents.
Dareo and Elera received them in the great hall.
The fire crackled in the hearth. Shadows danced on the walls.
Aegon spoke for all:
—We're sorry. Truly.
His voice was firm, but sincere.
—We didn't think about you. Only about ourselves. About our freedom, our fun, our desire to explore. And that was wrong.
Visenya added:
—I was the worst. I know.
Her pride, that fierce pride that characterized her, was temporarily set aside.
—I was stupid. I shouldn't have run away. I put Vhagar at risk, my family, everything for a whim. I'm sorry. Truly. And I'm going to be better.
Rhaenys and Orys nodded, supporting their siblings.
Elera cried silently.
Silent tears running down her cheeks that she could not stop.
Dareo looked at them for a long time.
One by one. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys, Orys.
Then he sighed.
—We forgive you.
The children exhaled, relieved.
—But this cannot happen again.
—It won't —Aegon promised.
—Good. Because next time —Dareo warned, voice grave — the punishment will be worse.
**THE TOWER**
That night, Aerom watched from his tower.
The children laughed in the courtyard. Their laughter, after weeks of silence, filled the air with music not heard for a long time.
Their parents watched them from the doorway, relief in their eyes.
Everything was returning to normal.
—They're beginning to understand —Aerom murmured.
The raven on his shoulder cawed.
—Yes —Aerom replied —. But there's still a long way to go.
He looked south.
Toward Valyria.
Toward where the scout ships sailed toward the forbidden.
—And they know it.
The ravens around him cawed.
As if confirming.
As if knowing.
They waited.
They always waited.