Time can smooth over scars and fade pain. It can also replace gentle autumn rains with biting winter winds. Under Daemon's leadership, the small council worked tirelessly to maintain order in King's Landing. The city's reconstruction began with the main structures on its three hills, a project that could span decades. Meanwhile, an embittered Lord Corlys Velaryon, unable to find allies, returned quietly to Driftmark. There, in the Hall of Nine, he spent his final days surrounded by the rare treasures acquired during his legendary seafaring adventures.
In the 131st year after the Conquest, two years after the Dance of the Dragons ended, the Sea Snake finally set sail aboard his flagship, now renamed the Queen Without a Crown. He met the end of his legendary life at sea. After arranging his funeral, Joffrey Velaryon flew to Dragon's Nest to visit his younger brother, then to Sunspear to see his rebellious fiancée. Although Aliandra Martell resented not having control over her marriage, Joffrey's gentle manners and handsome appearance eventually won her over. She decided to accompany him to High Tide until their wedding. It was during these years of recovery from war that a devastating blow fell upon the Triarchy.
Dalton Greyjoy, the Red Kraken, led a massive fleet of 300 longships past Dorne, resupplying at Silvercrown City before attacking the Stepstones. The self-proclaimed Lord of Bloodstone and King of the Narrow Sea, Reicharino, quickly joined Dalton's Iron Fleet. This raider fleet defeated the Triarchy's navy in successive battles. Oddly, Dalton allowed the Lyseni fleet to escape unscathed. When the Ironborn sacked Tyrosh's outskirts, harbors, and towns, the Triarchy fractured. Myr was afraid that Lys, who was still strong, would attack him, while Lys, wary of attacks from both sides, pulled back its forces. Dalton seized the opportunity, capturing Tyrosh after a long siege. For three months, the Ironborn pillaged the city. The Archons of Tyrosh were drowned one by one by the Red Kraken, and the Ironborn returned home with their longships laden with treasures and salt wives.
Dalton sent fifteen gold-and-pearl-laden longships to King's Landing, presenting them as a "coronation gift for King Aegon" and "compensation for his tardiness in serving the realm". Daemon gladly accepted the offering, tacitly allowing Dalton's plunder of the Triarchy.
With Corlys Velaryon's soul returned to the sea, white ravens, heralds of winter, flew from the Ravenry of Silvercrown City to all corners of Westeros. Silvercrown City gained half of the Citadel content after been shattered by the war. Yet the millennia-old repository of knowledge remained intact. Under Maester Visari's strict oversight, the upper echelons of Silvercrown's Citadel were almost entirely replaced by members of House Vaelarys. Thus, Draezell solidified control over this once "neutral" faction.
Winter had come. Snow and ice swept southward from the Wall. Last Hearth was the first to ignite its beacon fires, followed by the winter town beneath Winterfell, which lit perpetual bonfires. Soon, the North was blanketed in snow, and winter crept into the Vale, the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and the Crownlands.
In Dragon's Nest, however, winter's arrival meant only a chill in the air and a lengthened harvest cycle.
"Roar~" Vermithor's massive frame soared over the Red mountains, leaving behind a sharp, echoing cry. Laughter followed. Draezell chuckled as he looked at Diana in his arms. Her face had gone pale, eyes shut tight, as she clung to the dragon saddle, unmoving. Draezell, meanwhile, held his slightly rounded wife with one arm and grasped the reins with the other, enjoying the rush of wind past his ears.
"Draezell, take me down!" Diana's voice wavered on the verge of tears. Draezell signaled Vermithor to steady its flight. The old dragon let out a light growl, slowed its speed, and stopped its abrupt turns. "Didn't you say it was exhilarating last time?" Draezell teased, his short silver hair whipping in the wind. His neatly trimmed beard added to his growing air of authority with age.
"last time?" Diana retorted, feeling the steadier pace. "You weren't diving or flying so fast last time! Wait—no, stop that!"
Laughing, Draezell tightened his grip on the reins. Vermithor seemed to sense his rider's amusement and let out a deep, rumbling laugh of its own. "Look at Leyla; she doesn't react like you when flying with Valar," Draezell teased further. Diana smiled. "That's because Leyla has Valyrian blood. You belong to the skies, but I belong to the forests."
"No, you belong to the skies now, too." Draezell gently tugged the reins, and Vermithor let out a triumphant roar before gliding steadily toward the Dragonpit.
"By the way, Diana, have you thought about a name for the baby?" Draezell asked, his hand lightly resting on her belly.
"If it's a girl, let's name her Serena," Diana replied thoughtfully. "I read about a Serena in The Lineage of Valyrian Dragonlords. She once served as an Archon of the Freehold and was the Dragonmaster of her time. By the way, what does 'Dragonmaster' mean?"
Carefully dismounting from Vermithor on the Dragonpit's outer platform, Draezell cradled his wife as they descended. "In the era of the Valyrian Freehold, every family had at least one Dragonmaster. They either possessed magical tools to summon dragons or commanded the largest dragon in the family, allowing them to lead entire flocks."
"Oh," Diana understood the meaning. "If it's a girl, we'll name her Serena. If it's a boy…"
"Let's name him Jacaerys," Draezell suggested suddenly, sighing as the name crossed his mind. Diana froze for a moment before nodding with a sigh of her own.
Inside the Dragonpit, Vermithor let out a loud roar as he lumbered toward his massive lair. Vermax was the first to emerge from her cave, releasing a low growl. Vermithor glanced at the older dragon peering from an upper cave, gave a slight nod, and continued forward.
Similar low growls came from Shadowmare and Stormcloud as they cautiously emerged from the shadows. Stormcloud hid timidly behind Shadowmare, who boldly approached Vermithor, rubbing his head against the old dragon's wings. Vermithor growled lightly in acknowledgment, though he seemed slightly annoyed. Afterward, Shadowmare looked toward Stormcloud, urging him forward.
Stormcloud hesitated but eventually crept closer, bowing his head and growling softly. Vermithor observed the young dragon, then turned to Shadowmare before letting out a huff. Gently, he nudged Stormcloud with his colossal head, a motion so forceful that it sent Stormcloud sprawling. Shadowmare and Vermax quickly helped the younger dragon regain his balance.
Shadowmare, frustrated, growled at Stormcloud, scolding him. The younger dragon whimpered but appeared to accept the reprimand, obediently following Shadowmare back to their lair.
In another part of the pit, three dragons stirred. Starsong blocked the entrance to his cave, standing motionless as Vermithor approached. Only when Silverwing roared from inside did Starsong step aside, revealing Aurorae and Candlelight. The two young dragons peered out and growled in greeting at Vermithor, who finally seemed satisfied and retreated into his lair.
"Every time I see the dragons behave this way, I'm struck by how much they seem like real, sentient beings with emotions — not the terrifying weapons of legend," Diana remarked, having pieced together the dynamics of the scene. Vermithor clearly ruled the Dragonpit as its king, with Silverwing as his queen. The close bond between Vermithor and Shadowmare elevated the latter to a significant position. The little dragons, composed of Shadowmare, Vermax and Stormcloud, were Vermithor's "children" or "subjects" and were responsible for the work, while Starsong and the others were too small and could be considered "cubs" who needed protection.
"They are living creatures, flesh and blood," Draezell replied, handing his gloves to a Silvercloak. A dozen silver-haired guards stepped forward, preparing to clean Vermithor. Though adult dragons could hunt independently — Vermithor preferred whales from the Narrow Sea — the livestock kept in the pit, particularly sheep and pigs, were a necessary supplement. Silvercloaks led a sheep to Vermithor as a meal.
"Where's Valar?" Draezell inquired. He wasn't concerned about Rey's whereabouts; his younger brother typically alternated between two places: the vast library of the Laurel Tower or the Dragonpit, often spending hours conversing with Shadowmare. Draezell still wondered what Rey discussed with the massive beast.
The Silvercloak thought for a moment. "Prince Valar came to the Dragonpit this morning to clean Silverwing and took a dragon egg with him. Silverwing laid three eggs this month; they've all been moved to the hatchery. Afterward, he likely headed to the Dragon crystal Tower. Lord Aslan scheduled a training session with King Aegon to teach him swordsmanship."
Draezell nodded. "And the children? Have you seen them?"
The Silvercloak shook his head. "The children haven't been to the Dragonpit today. We're unsure where they might be." Their jurisdiction was limited to the Dragonpit and its adjoining tower. Only the "Elders", responsible for cataloging dragon eggs, and the Chief Steward, Yamor, could leave the premises to oversee other matters.
Draezell frowned. "Today is Aegon and Rhaegor's dragon taming lesson. What could they be doing?"
Meanwhile, in the Summerfield:
Aegon and Viserys had wrapped their silver hair in scarves. Trailing behind them were two younger children, similarly disguised. Rhaegor, clearly unhappy, was being dragged along by his sister.
"Your Grace, skipping lessons is wrong," Rhaegor grumbled.
"Shh," Aegon hushed him with a finger to his lips. "Rhaegor, you agreed to come along to get Uncle Draezell a naming-day gift. No tattling."
"Yes, no tattling!" Samantha chimed in, her tiny hand covering her brother's mouth. "Snitches aren't good siblings."
Rhaegor pouted, mumbling through his sister's hand, "You didn't say we'd be skipping lessons. Dragon's Nest and Summerfield aren't even connected. We're definitely going to get caught. If Hoffa finds out—"
"Shh," Viserys cut him off. "We'll be quick. If Hoffa asks, we'll say we were at the Dragonpit." The boy grinned mischievously. "He's always encouraging us to bond with the dragons anyway."
"But you don't even have a dragon," Rhaegor muttered. Viserys' face crumpled into an exaggerated frown. "I will! Someday, I will."
"Hey, you kids up front! Where are your parents?"
A deep voice startled the group.