Morning light spilled through the tall windows of the Tower of the Hand, bathing the polished stone floor in pale gold. Beyond the glass, King's Landing stirred with renewed purpose. Merchants reopened their stalls, craftsmen returned to their workshops, and servants hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep carrying messages, ledgers, and supplies.
Yet the city had not forgotten.
Every few minutes, conversations halted as a colossal crimson shadow swept silently across rooftops.
Caraxes.
The Blood Wyrm circled high above King's Landing as he had every morning since the destruction of the rebel host, his enormous wings cutting through drifting clouds like crimson sails. His distant roar no longer sent people fleeing in blind terror, but it still drew every eye skyward.
Fear remained.
Fear simply had become familiarity.
Within the council chamber overlooking Blackwater Bay, Damon Targaryen sat behind a broad oak table covered in maps and reports. He wore a tailored black doublet embroidered with subtle crimson dragons along the cuffs, practical enough for work yet unmistakably royal.
Several ledgers lay open before him.
Grain reserves.
Repairs to the city walls.
Lists of prisoners.
Names.
Houses.
Lands.
Every decision would shape the reign he intended to build.
A king who ignored administration would eventually lose the loyalty bought through victory.
A knock echoed against the chamber door.
"Enter."
The great oaken doors swung inward.
Ser Addam Marbrand stepped inside first before bowing deeply.
"Your Grace. Lord Tywin Lannister requests an audience."
Damon looked up from the parchment.
"Alone?"
"No, Your Grace."
A faint smile tugged at Damon's lips.
"I expected as much."
"Send them in."
Marbrand stepped aside.
Tywin Lannister entered first, every movement measured, every inch the Lord of Casterly Rock. His crimson cloak hung perfectly.
One pace behind him walked a young woman.
Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like spun sunlight, framing a face of remarkable beauty. Emerald eyes observed the chamber with quiet confidence, missing little. She wore a gown of deep crimson trimmed in cloth-of-gold, the colors of House Lannister complementing rather than overwhelming her graceful bearing.
Cersei Lannister.
She had expected magnificence.
She had expected grandeur.
She had not expected the room itself to feel almost... ordinary.
Nor had she expected Damon.
The prince looked younger than she imagined up close.
Only a few years older than herself.
Yet the moment her eyes met his, every preconceived notion dissolved.
He didn't resemble the stories whispered throughout the city.
He wasn't pacing dramatically like the Mad King.
He wasn't distant and dreamlike like Prince Rhaegar had often been described.
Instead...
He simply watched, quietly. With those violet eyes that seemed to measure everything in an instant.
So this is the man who commands dragons.
For the briefest moment, Cersei found herself unexpectedly nervous.
Not frightened.
Simply aware that she, too, was being evaluated.
Tywin stopped several feet before the desk.
"Your Grace."
He inclined his head respectfully.
Beside him, Cersei followed suit in a graceful curtsy.
"Your Grace."
Damon rose from his chair.
"Lord Tywin."
His gaze shifted naturally toward Cersei.
"And this must be your daughter."
Tywin allowed himself the smallest hint of satisfaction.
"Indeed."
"My daughter, Cersei of House Lannister."
"Cersei."
Damon spoke her name evenly.
"A pleasure."
She met his eyes.
"The pleasure is mine, Your Grace."
For a heartbeat, silence settled over the chamber.
Tywin watched both of them carefully. Damon showed no surprise, no fascination, no lingering glance.
Simply calm acknowledgement.
Disciplined, Tywin thought.
More disciplined than most men twice his age.
Damon gestured toward the chairs arranged beside the table.
"Please, Sit."
Servants entered moments later carrying wine before withdrawing just as quietly.
No one touched the cups immediately.
Damon folded his hands atop the desk.
"I trust your journey from Casterly Rock was uneventful, Lady Cersei."
She offered a faint smile.
"As uneventful as any journey can be while wondering whether the stories ahead are true."
"Oh?"
She nodded.
"I heard many tales before arriving."
"About dragons."
"About a prince who burned an army."
Her emerald eyes searched his face.
"I wasn't certain how much to believe."
"And now?"
A distant roar echoed through the windows.
Almost as though summoned by the conversation itself.
All three instinctively glanced toward the open balcony.
Far above the city, Caraxes glided between clouds before banking sharply over Blackwater Bay.
Cersei watched him disappear.
"When I first saw him..." she admitted quietly, "...I forgot how to breathe."
Despite herself, she smiled.
"I've read about dragons since when I was a child."
"They never seemed... real."
"No book truly captures their size."
"No story explains what it feels like when their shadow passes overhead."
Her voice softened.
"They make castles seem small."
Damon regarded her for a moment before nodding once.
"They were meant to."
Tywin noticed something.
His daughter had spoken emotionally.
Damon answered with a simple truth.
Neither encouraging nor dismissing.
Simply factual. Again, his response was measured.
Cersei turned back toward him.
"Is it frightening?"
"Riding one?"
This time Damon considered the question longer.
"It was."
"The first time."
His answer surprised both Lannisters.
"I thought someone such as yourself would never admit fear."
A faint smile appeared.
"Only fools fear nothing."
"The difference lies in mastering fear before it consumes you."
Cersei found herself studying him more carefully.
There was no arrogance.
No attempt to impress.
He answered honestly.
That honesty somehow made him seem even more confident.
Tywin watched the exchange without interruption.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Damon wasn't trying to charm Cersei.
Yet she was becoming increasingly engaged regardless.
'Perhaps because he treated her as an equal conversational partner rather than merely a beautiful noblewoman.' Tywin thought to himself as he continued observing.
"My father says dragons changed the world."
"They did."
"And they'll change it again?"
"They already have."
The answer came so quickly that neither Lannister immediately responded.
Outside, another distant roar rolled across King's Landing.
Cersei looked toward the windows again.
'One day... If I become his queen. Those dragons will belong to my children.' The thought settled warmly inside her.
Not greed, well not entirely. Something closer to what she believed to be destiny.
Tywin eventually broke the comfortable silence.
"Your Grace."
"The preparations for the coronation continue smoothly."
"I've instructed my household to contribute whatever resources are necessary."
"I appreciate it."
"There remains much to accomplish."
"Quite."
Tywin leaned forward slightly.
"The great houses will soon begin arriving."
"The Reach first, most likely."
"Dorne shortly thereafter."
"The Riverlands may prove... uncertain."
"They'll come all of them except the Greyjoys."
Damon spoke with complete certainty.
"They have little choice."
Tywin nodded.
Indeed.
After witnessing dragons or merely hearing verified accounts of them, very few lords would dare ignore a royal summons.
Still, he studied Damon carefully.
"You've achieved victory through overwhelming strength."
"The coronation presents another challenge."
"Oh?"
"You must convince the realm you intend to rule."
"Not merely conquer."
Tywin inclined his head. "You must choose carefully which hands are crushed and which are mended. You would be wise to let mercy and terror both be tools. Use them in measured doses."
A faint smile crossed Damon's face.
"You believe I haven't considered that?"
"I believe," Tywin answered honestly, "that wise kings welcome differing perspectives."
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Damon inclined his head.
"They do."
Tywin noticed it immediately.
Not agreement, but true recognition.
Damon genuinely valued useful counsel. That made him even more dangerous.
Because unlike Aerys. He listened.
Before either man continued, another knock echoed through the chamber.
More urgent this time.
Ser Addam opened the door only slightly before speaking.
"Your Grace."
"Ser Harold Waters has returned."
Damon's attention sharpened instantly.
"Has he?"
"Yes."
"He says..."
The knight hesitated.
"He says the mission is complete."
For the first time since the meeting began, genuine emotion flickered across Damon's features.
Only briefly.
But Tywin noticed.
"So."
Damon rose smoothly.
"Excellent."
"Send him in."
Tywin's curiosity immediately awakened.
A mission? What mission? He had heard nothing. Seen nothing, and that alone irritated him.
Because it meant Damon possessed operations beyond even his considerable awareness.
Moments later, Ser Harold Waters entered the chamber.
Travel dust still clung to his boots and cloak.
Yet that wasn't what drew everyone's attention.
Cradled carefully in his arms...
Was an infant.
The child slept peacefully, entirely unaware of the significance of the room or the men and woman staring at him.
Harold approached the desk before kneeling.
"Your Grace."
"The task you entrusted to me has been completed."
He gently lifted the infant.
Damon stepped forward without hesitation.
"I encountered no difficulties."
"No one remains of the group."
"Excellent."
Damon accepted the child with surprising ease.
Supporting the infant carefully against one arm, he looked down into the sleeping face.
Black hair, tiny features. Peaceful breathing.
This was Jon. Or Aegon. The son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The prince who would be hidden under another name.
For a long moment Damon simply watched him sleep.
Another piece had arrived upon the board.
And unlike nearly everyone else in Westeros...
He understood exactly how important this child could become one day.
Behind him, Tywin narrowed his eyes. He had expected many things. Gold, Letters, even captured nobles. Not a baby.
Nor the unmistakable significance Damon seemed to place upon him.
Cersei herself looked equally puzzled. Yet neither spoke.
Both understood instinctively that this was not the moment for questions.
Damon finally looked up.
"Lord Tywin."
"Lady Cersei."
"I'm afraid there are matters requiring my immediate attention."
Tywin rose immediately.
"Of course, Your Grace."
He offered a respectful bow.
Though inwardly his thoughts were already racing.
Who is that child? Why retrieve him? What possible value....
No answer presented itself.
Which meant... He would simply have to wait.
Kings were entitled to secrets. Even from their most valuable allies.
As Tywin and Cersei withdrew from the chamber, the heavy doors closed softly behind them.
Neither noticed Damon still watching the infant in his arms.
Nor the faint smile that appeared upon the young king's face.
One more move.
One more piece secured.
And the game had only just begun.