Blackfyre Tower
"They certainly surprised me. We were expecting the invitation two days ago, not today," Laenor commented absentmindedly, though his mind was already moving ahead of the conversation.
Both he and his father had anticipated an invitation—or at the very least, a council gathering—either on the very day Laenor displayed his power atop Balerion Tower or the morning after. When no summons came, they had begun to speculate. Either the Archons and the Lord Freeholders did not consider what transpired significant enough to warrant a gathering, or those who had witnessed the display were deliberately stalling the Council's assembly for their own reasons.
The latter was what his father leaned toward. Laenor, however, was not entirely convinced that fear or political maneuvering alone had delayed it.
"A dragonrider from the Drakonar clan arrived shortly after the rider from the Council departed—no more than an hour between them," his father continued, his tone measured, though there was an unspoken question beneath it. "Lord Maelor wishes for the marriage between Daemion and Melisa Zaldri to take place at midday today. The lady in question is prepared."
Laenor hummed softly in thought.
This did not surprise him in the least. He had already predicted that Lord Maelor would seek to secure Daemion and Melisa's marriage—and, through it, bind Laenor firmly to his faction—before the first Council gathering. It was a shrewd move. No doubt Maelor wished to present the Velaryons at the Council not as neutral, powerful self-exiled outsiders, but as an allied clan.
And while Laenor and his father had no objection to such haste, Daemion might. Marriage, even in Valyria, was no small matter.
So Laenor decided to let the man whose life was being altered speak for himself.
"If Lady Melisa has no objection," Laenor said calmly, turning his gaze toward the eldest of his uncle's sons, "then there is only one person whose opinion matters before we send our reply. Cousin Daemion, what do you wish? Would it suit you to wed Lady Melisa today at midday?"
Before Daemion could answer, Vaemond spoke instead.
"You need not ask, Lord Laenor. If this marriage benefits House Velaryon in any measure, my son will have no objection." His uncle's expression was firm, unyielding. His priorities were laid bare without apology. In Vaemond's mind, the ascent of House Velaryon outweighed all personal hesitations.
Laenor inclined his head respectfully.
"I value your loyalty to our house, Uncle Vaemond. Truly." His tone remained polite but steady. "But forgive me if I still prefer to hear my cousin's thoughts. It is, after all, his marriage we discuss. And rest assured, choosing to wed at a later time—with greater ceremony—would not diminish our standing in the least. This urgency comes not from necessity for us, but from Lord Maelor's desire for peace of mind before tonight's gathering."
Vaemond studied him for a moment, then nodded once.
Laenor smiled faintly before returning his full attention to Daemion.
Now not only Laenor's gaze but the eyes of everyone present rested upon the young man. The weight of expectation hung thick in the dining chamber, though no one spoke.
Daemion straightened slightly before answering.
"I have no objection to marrying today, Lord Laenor," he said, an open and earnest smile touching his face. "If Lord Maelor is soon to be our ally, I would rather not disregard his request on the very day we are to stand before the Council. It would not bode well."
There was maturity in his tone that pleased Laenor.
"Though," Daemion continued, clearing his throat slightly, "I would ask one thing, if you would hear it."
Laenor inclined his head immediately. From the corner of his eye, he noticed his father give Daemion a subtle nod of encouragement as well.
"Speak freely, cousin."
"I would like to meet Lady Melisa before we wed—if such a meeting is possible," Daemion admitted, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks despite his effort to remain composed.
A few smiles broke around the chamber, warm rather than mocking. However, Daemon's smile was an exception. Laenor needs to keep an eye on the prince lest he tease hell out of Daemion for speaking this.
"There is nothing to be embarrassed about," Laenor replied smoothly. "It is only right that you meet the woman who is to become your wife. I will go myself to Balerion Tower and relay your request. I am certain Lady Melisa would welcome the opportunity as well."
His cousins and uncle were his blood. Their loyalty was not something he took lightly, nor would he treat their futures carelessly.
Laenor had every intention of bringing Lady Melisa here upon Embaryx's back before midday, if she so agreed.
"There is no need to trouble yourself, Lord Laenor. You could send—"
"It is not a trouble, Daemion. I wish to go there myself," Laenor interrupted smoothly, though there was finality in his tone that made further protest pointless.
Daemion inclined his head in acceptance.
"There is one more thing you should hear before you make your way to Balerion Tower," his father added, leaning slightly forward in his seat. The warmth from the braziers reflected faintly off the goblet in his hand. "Lord Maelor has been in contact with Lady Rhaenys Belaerys regarding an alliance between the Targaryens and the Drakonars. After learning that one of your future children with Rhaenyra will bear the Targaryen name, he inquired whether House Targaryen would consider joining his faction as well. And should they accept the protection the Drakonar clan offers, the child born of your union with Princess Rhaenyra—specifically that Targaryen line—would be married into the Drakonar clan."
A faint understanding dawned upon Laenor. So that was why Viserys' face looked so different from the jubilant, almost boyish expression he had worn ever since arriving in the Freehold.
"Well," Laenor said after a brief pause, his lips curving faintly, "Lord Maelor is indeed playing a long game."
He leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Anyway, what seems to be the problem here?" Laenor asked, glancing between the Targaryen brothers.
"We have no problem, Laenor," Viserys replied, though he still looked uncertain. "We merely thought it proper to ask whether you have any objection."
It was Daemon who answered next, looking thoroughly bored with the entire discussion. He had one arm draped lazily across the back of his chair, silver hair falling loose over his shoulder.
"Viserys is here to ask you whether you have any issue with the proposal," Daemon said bluntly, as if the matter itself did not deserve this much air.
Laenor raised an eyebrow.
"Why would I have any? We are speaking of the marriage of someone whose parents are not even born yet," he replied dryly. "It seems rather premature to be concerned over such distant futures."
Daemon let out a low breath through his nose.
"What did I tell you, brother? It was a waste of time bringing this matter up," he muttered, glancing sideways at Viserys with mild exasperation.
Viserys looked slightly affronted but said nothing.
Laenor glanced toward the tall windows where pale morning light spilled across the stone floor.
"Are we finished here?" he asked calmly. "I would like some time in the sky with Embaryx before I depart for Balerion Tower."
Since arriving in Valyria, Laenor had made it a habit to take Embaryx aloft after breaking his fast. The open sea beyond the Freehold, the salt wind, the vast stretch of horizon — it cleared his thoughts better than any council chamber ever could. He had no intention of abandoning that ritual today of all days.
After a short ride over the ocean, he would make his way to Balerion Tower.
His father's expression was enough of an answer. A faint nod followed.
Laenor rose from his seat in one fluid motion. Laena stood immediately after him, as did Rhaenyra, both excusing themselves with polite words to the gathered company. They too followed him with their dragons, the three of them ascending together toward the tower's summit each morning.
Without further delay, they made their way out of the chamber and toward the spiral stairs that led to the top of Blackfyre Tower.
After an hour,
Laenor parted ways with Rhaenyra and Laena as both ladies steered their dragons back toward the heart of the Freehold. He, however, guided Embaryx straight toward the eastern coast, where Balerion Tower rose like a black spear against the horizon.
He hoped this visit would not end as disastrously as the last one.
The next moment, Laenor scoffed at his own thought. Maelor would never allow another Drakonar to even come close enough to offend him again — not after what had transpired. The fear of repeating that humiliation alone would ensure discipline within that tower. Of that, Laenor was certain.
Pushing aside his overthinking, he allowed himself to enjoy the next few heartbeats in peace. He and Embaryx flew low over the flowing, calm expanse of the sea before the steady stretch of land began again. The ocean shimmered under the morning light, waves rolling in gentle rhythm against the cliffs of Valyria.
Embaryx loved the sea as much as his rider did. His giant mount dipped lower, his immense form casting a dark shadow over the waters. His claws skimmed across the surface in smooth glides, sending sprays of silver droplets into the air.
Laenor allowed himself a faint smile.
He was still enjoying the serenity when something caught his attention — ships.
Not the sleek, distinct vessels of Valyria that he had grown accustomed to in these past few days, but ships of a different make and design. Their hull lines were familiar to him — too familiar.
He had seen ships like those in the Stepstones during war.
They were making their way toward the docks.
Laenor felt the brief urge to change course and fly closer to confirm whether they belonged to the Triarchy or not. But after a moment's thought, he decided against it. Lady Rhaenys would know soon enough. Nothing of significance went unseen or unheard in the Freehold — not with the Drakonars watching, and certainly not with Maelor's web of informants stretching across land and sea. And Rhaenys Belaerys remained in daily correspondence with the powers here.
If it was important, he would hear of it.
A few minutes later, Balerion Tower came into full view — black, jagged, and steeped in its dreadful aura. Even from the sky, it radiated an oppressive presence, as though the stone itself remembered, to this day, whatever dark magic had been cast to earn such a presence.
Before Embaryx's claws even touched the tower's floor, Laenor released his presence — not enough to shake the structure or draw panic, but enough to push back against the tower's malignant aura. The oppressive heaviness thinned immediately before his powerful and calm aura.
Embaryx landed with a heavy, echoing thud that reverberated through the black stone. The sound carried far.
Laenor dismounted smoothly, his exquisitely crafted firewyrm-hide boots striking the dark floor with a sharp, satisfying sound. He rather liked the sound they made against polished stone. Looking at their shine, Laenor did not regret every coin he spent on purchasing them.
Since his visit was unannounced, there was no formal welcome. A few dragonkeepers — or what he assumed were dragonkeepers — froze at the sight of him before sprinting down the spiral descent, no doubt to inform the High Steward and the lord of the tower of his arrival.
Neither Laenor nor Embaryx were unfamiliar to the residents of Balerion Tower anymore. Not after he had made the entire structure tremble beneath his power.
Laenor was about to lean casually against Embaryx's immense, warm head and wait when a familiar melodic voice reached him from not far away.
"What a coincidence," the voice chimed lightly. "Welcome to Balerion Tower, Lord Laenor Velaryon."
Laenor's expression went blank as he turned slowly.
Elaena Drakonar stood there, serene as ever, draped in a gown of deep blood-red silk that moved faintly with the wind. The color mirrored the dark stone beneath her feet. For a brief, dangerous moment, he was struck again by her beauty — the pale gold of her hair that mixed perfectly with the silver, the lilac hue of her eyes, the proud line of her posture.
Then memory rose like cold water.
Two days ago. The dome. The storm. The chains. The screams.
And just as quickly, whatever warmth that thought might have stirred faded like snow beneath the summer sun.
"Good day to you, Lady Elaena," Laenor replied, his tone as even and unreadable as his face. "I did not expect to meet you — of all people — here at this place."
If you're interested in reading up to fifteen chapters ahead of this one, you can find them on my Patreon:
Patreon.com/c/Daeranyx_Drakonar
Your support on Patreon helps me continue writing, but rest assured, I won't be locking chapters behind a paywall. They will be available for free over time. If you enjoy the story and would like to support my work, your contribution would be greatly appreciated!