City of Valyria
Laenor was standing outside the Council, ready to leave as the gathering had ended after the assembled members heard his father and King Viserys's replies. House Targaryen's case was different, and as Laenor had assumed, Viserys had been called by the Archons to join them for lunch the next day. Laenor had already told Viserys what the discussion would likely be about during that meal, not that the King did not already know. Viserys had only shaken his head and said, "I already have my reply ready if they ask me that."
Now Lord Maelor was introducing Laenor, his father, and Viserys to his faction. All of them greeted Laenor with warm words and warmer smiles. Though Laenor doubted that any of those smiles or pleasantries were genuine. Even so, he returned them with the same courteous smile.
Laenor had the power to overturn the board on which these lords played their games, but why do so and make enemies of everyone when he could instead give them the illusion of being on their side, and in turn guide things toward his own ends?
He had only taken up the role of head of the Velaryon branch in Valyria because he wanted to learn everything the Freehold had to offer before eventually leaving it behind.
Though living here had its benefits, Valyria was not a place he would ever proudly call home. He could attempt to change the Freehold for the better, but it was too deeply entrenched in practices like slavery and blood magic to change easily—decades at best, centuries at worst, this much time he would rather spend on building something he could call his own to leave his own mark upon the world and in the pages of history.
As for the benefits of living in the Freehold, they were undeniable. The protection of the living in the Freehold and the ease with which magic flowed here were unlike anything he had experienced before. And it was not just him—everyone felt it. Laena and the rest of his family had already begun taking advantage of this, practicing their magic in the privacy of their chambers.
The protection, however, was not something he meant as more guards like back in Westeros, but something else entirely. The very foundation of Valyria seemed woven with powerful wards against hostile magic. Laenor doubted that any mage without Valyrian blood in their veins could easily infiltrate the city or attempt anything reckless. Whether it was the result of ancient ingenuity or some forgotten blood ritual, Laenor did not know—but the magic recognized the dragon blood within him and his kin, for which he was grateful.
He had no desire to test the limits of millennia-old protections born of blood magic.
"…Lord Laenor…"
Laenor broke out of his thoughts at the sound of Lord Maelor's voice. Looking around, he found everyone watching him with mild confusion.
Wonderful. By the looks of it, Maelor had been calling his name for some time.
"Forgive me, the events of the council are still lingering in my thoughts," Laenor said with an apologetic smile. "May I know what you were saying, Lord Maelor?"
Maelor studied him for a heartbeat before speaking again.
"Lord Laenor, I was introducing Lady Aerra Belaerys to you. She is the new ruling Lady of the Belaerys clan."
Maelor gestured toward her.
Laenor turned to the woman in question. Lady Aerra had the typical Valyrian beauty—refined, striking, and composed—though not in the same way as Elaena. If anything, Aerra gave the impression of someone more inclined toward books and knowledge than courtly company.
Laenor also remembered that she was the stepdaughter of Lady Rhaenys Belaerys.
"Greetings to you, Lord Laenor," Lady Aerra spoke first, inclining her head in respect.
"And to you as well, Lady Aerra. It is a pleasure to meet you," Laenor returned the greeting.
Maelor's eyes subtly signaled his faction to disperse when he noticed Aerra's slight hesitation. One by one, they bowed and excused themselves. Aerra nodded her thanks toward Maelor, and he returned it with a small gesture.
Laenor found himself slightly confused at Maelor's accommodating behavior toward someone outside his faction. True, Lady Aerra led the neutral faction—but still.
"Lord Laenor, if I may, I would like to know about the form Lord Arrax took before you, and what he told you. You may withhold anything personal if you wish—even a little would suffice. Enough for Belaerys family and me to be in your debt. A debt I will repay whenever you call upon me."
Aerra spoke calmly, her posture straight, her tone measured.
Laenor would have shared the information willingly even without any promise of favor. Her approach—polite, composed, and without entitlement—was a stark contrast to the other dragonlords he had met, who had not even dared to ask him directly about his encounter with Arrax, likely believing it to be a fake or lucid dream that Viserys had with his family. It seems they have yet to learn from their past mistakes.
"Very well, Lady Belaerys. I will hold you to your words," Laenor said. "As for how we met Lord Arrax—it was within a dream. He took the form of a dragon with six limbs, colored in black and purple…"
It took some time for Laenor to recount the entire encounter with the chief god of the Valyrian pantheon. Throughout it all, Lady Aerra and Lord Maelor remained silent, listening intently. Both of their expressions held a quiet sense of wonder by the time he finished.
"I have upheld my end and told you everything that happened in that dream. Now, if I may, I would like to know—why did you trust King Viserys's words, when so many others did not believe that we had truly met Lord Arrax?" Laenor asked, his curiosity plain.
"I can feel your magic."
That was the response he received, and it came as a surprise—not to him, but to everyone present.
"I knew you had to be blessed by the dragon gods to be this powerful. There is no possibility of any Valyrian possessing this much magic without our gods' true favor upon them. My half-brother, Argon, was just like you, so I knew you were telling the truth the moment I felt the sheer amount of magical power radiating from you," Lady Aerra said, her expression filled with shock and awe, as if she could see, even now, how much magic Laenor's body held.
"That is a very interesting and useful ability to have, Lady Aerra," Laenor said. He himself possessed such an ability and knew how valuable it could be in any situation he found himself in.
Laenor did not probe her further about what this ability could do or what its limits were. He knew Lady Aerra would not tell him anyway. Dragonlords were secretive like that.
Anyhow, with this new information about the Lady of Belaerys' ability, Laenor began to think that perhaps the five topmost families of Valyria each possessed a unique set of abilities that made them distinct from other dragonlord families.
"I think it is past time I excuse myself. I appreciate you accepting the deal we made, Lord Laenor. Although the word of Belaerys is no less binding than any magical contract, should you wish to formalize it with a blood contract, then send word to me, and I will invite you to my home," Lady Belaerys said, her tone returning to the same formal and cold demeanor she had used during the council.
She was about to leave before stopping midway, turning slightly back toward them with a confused expression, as if unsure what compelled her to speak.
"Do visit the Great Dragon Temple if you can, Lord Laenor. You will find it… the most unique and helpful experience of your life."
With that, she did not wait for a reply and took her leave with haste.
"Well, I wouldn't deter you from visiting the temple of the Valyrian gods. Though I ought to warn you—half the Belaerys are considered mad, so do not take her choice of words too seriously," Lord Maelor added, his gaze lingering on the retreating figure of Lady Aerra Belaerys.
"I don't think being called mad is a curse or a bad thing, per se. Often, when the masses do not understand something, they simply label it as madness—or as a threat that must be eliminated," Laenor said, turning his head in the direction of the temple, which stood just beside the council.
Although he should avoid anything related to gods and the divine, Laenor could not help the curiosity that stirred within him after hearing Lady Aerra's words—spoken with that strange, uncertain expression. He had seen that look before.
And if his assumption was correct, then he suspected someone was already waiting for him inside that temple.
Now the question was—were they waiting to welcome him… or to jump at him?
The Dragon Temple of the Freehold
The Great Temple of the Fourteen stood beside the council at the very heart of the Valyrian Freehold. Built from smooth black stone—the same that seemed to form every great structure in Valyria—its vast domed form shimmered faintly with veins of red and gold, as though the flames of the Fourteen still burned within its walls.
Fourteen towering spires encircled the dome, each dedicated to one of the gods, their tips shaped like twisting dragonflame reaching toward the sky. At the temple's entrance stood colossal statues of dragonlords and gods alike—different from the sphinxes and chimeras that guarded other structures—stern and eternal, watching all who dared to enter.
Inside, the air was thick with heat and the scent of ash and incense. A great circular hall stretched beneath the dome, where fourteen altars stood evenly spaced, each carved from different materials—obsidian, dragonbone, molten glass—representing the nature of each god. At the center burned an ever-living flame, said to be kindled by the gods themselves, its colors shifting between deep crimson, gold, and an eerie violet.
Priests and sorcerers moved in hushed reverence, their chants echoing softly against the curved walls, while offerings—both humble and grand—were laid before the altars.
Laenor had brought no offering himself. Perhaps next time.
As that thought ended in his mind, he felt a presence brush against it.
Unlike the Old Gods of the North, it did not force its way in. Instead, it lingered at the edge of his consciousness, waiting—patient, almost courteous—for him to grant it entry.
A polite divine being. Laenor had never thought he would live to see such a thing.
"You do not need to bring us offerings, child. Your presence here is more than enough. Now, you must forgive us for using one of the Belaerys to bring you here, but we simply had no other options."
The voice echoed in his mind—loud, powerful. The same faint ache stirred in his head, just as it had in the presence of Lord Arrax.
"I had never heard of gods having 'other options' when it comes to calling someone to their place of worship for a conversation, so no need to ask forgiveness," Laenor replied, keeping his outward expression calm as the priests occasionally glanced his way.
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!