Daeron stayed on the Stepstones for a few days, letting his men rest while the Tyroshi fleet licked its wounds. He wasn't in a rush.
He sipped ginger ale straight from the bottle, the sharp bite of ginger hitting his tongue as the panel flashed +1 Luck.
Melisandre walked up in her red robes, hips swaying. "I feel natural magic here. It's strong."
"I know," Daeron said. "The islands are waking up."
She frowned. "You shouldn't trust every whisper you hear about nature's power."
He smiled. "If it bothers you, stay on the ship. Things are about to get a lot livelier."
---
Four days later the royal fleet sailed for Tyrosh.
They passed through the Red Sea again—water still stained pink with blood and oil.
A small Tyroshi force tried to intercept them. Seventeen ships. Three thousand men.
Lannister ships slammed into them first. Kevan fought like a man possessed, his new Life Seed making every swing hit harder.
Then Caraxes dropped out of the sky and turned the fight into a slaughter.
---
A bronze dragon roared in the distance.
Daeron looked up as a massive shape burst through the clouds. Jaehaerys sat on its back, silver-gold hair whipping in the wind, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Brother! I'm here!"
Valar—Jaehaerys's bronze dragon—dove and spat a stream of red-gold fire that ripped through an enemy ship like it was paper.
Daeron grinned and signaled. The two dragons worked together, burning what was left of the Tyroshi force in minutes.
When the last ship sank, Daeron landed on a nearby island. Jaehaerys jumped down, face flushed with excitement.
"I did it," he said, breathless. "I tamed him."
Daeron pulled him into a quick hug. "Good choice. Valar's a beast."
---
Later that afternoon Daeron returned with gifts.
He gave Jaehaerys dark boots that boosted defense, a crab-shell ring, a ruby ring that increased attack power, and a knight's helmet that would protect his head in battle.
"Wear these," Daeron said. "And take this."
He handed over Red Rain—the ancient Valyrian steel sword.
Jaehaerys dropped to one knee without being told.
Daeron tapped the flat of the blade on his brother's left shoulder. "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just… to defend the weak… and to never turn your back on family."
He lifted the sword. "Rise, Ser Jaehaerys Targaryen. You're a knight now. And a dragonrider."
Jaehaerys stood, eyes shining. "Thank you, brother."
Daeron clapped him on the shoulder. "We attack Tyrosh in three days. Try not to die before then."
Jaehaerys laughed, the sound bright and young. "I won't. Not when I finally have a dragon of my own."