[Red keep]
The corridor outside the armory was unusually crowded. Servants hurried past carrying saddlebags and travel chests. Men-at-arms moved between the stairwells, their boots echoing against the stone. Vaelaris and Rhaena had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when they found their mother and Alysanne coming the other way.
Neither looked pleased. For a moment, no one spoke. Alyssa's eyes drifted over the black armor, the sword at his hip, the riding cloak hanging from his shoulders.
First she said nothing. Then she stepped forward and adjusted the dragon clasp at his throat. The gesture was small. Motherly. Almost painfully so. "You have only just returned." Vaelaris was silent. "And already you're leaving again."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Dawn is not so far away." Alyssa did not smile back. Her hand lingered upon his shoulder. "I spent years believing you were dead." The words came quietly. "I would rather not begin worrying all over again."
For the first time that evening, Vaelaris looked away. "I will return." Alyssa snorted softly. "Every son who rides to war says the same thing." Before he could answer, Alysanne stepped forward. Unlike their mother, she looked more annoyed than frightened. "Jaehaerys needs you." She hesitated. "We all do."
Vaelaris raised an eyebrow. "I'll do my best."
"I mean it." Alysanne crossed her arms. "Jaehaerys is trying to build a kingdom. Don't make him inherit ashes." That finally earned the faintest hint of amusement from him. "No promises."
Alysanne groaned. "Gods help us." Alyssa reached up and pressed a kiss against his forehead. The gesture caught him completely off guard. "You are still my son," she said softly. "Not just the realm's sword." Vaelaris did not know what to say to that. So he simply nodded. And for once, that seemed enough.
The stables were warm with the scent of hay and horseflesh. Torches flickered in their brackets, casting long shadows across the stone walls. His sword hung at his side, the hilt wrapped in dark cloth. Rhaena stood nearby, her own saddle already in place.
Dreamfyre's scales shimmered in the torchlight, pale as moonlight. The dragon's head was lowered, her violet eyes half-lidded, watching the men as they prepared, the air around her hummed with tension, like the moment before a storm. "You're quiet," Rhaena said to Vaelaris
As he glanced at her. "I'm always quiet.
"Not like this." She stepped closer, her voice low. "You're thinking, don't deny it."
"I'm thinking that Harte won't be the last." Rhaena's lips thinned. "You think this is the beginning." He tightened the last strap, then turned to face her. "And I think if we don't put this fire out now, it'll burn the whole realm." Rahena studied him, then nodded.
Suddenly a young squire hurried in, his face flushed. "Your Grace—Prince Vaelaris—there's a man outside. A septon. He says he has news."Vaelaris' eyes narrowed. "What kind of news?" the squire swallowed. "He wouldn't say, my lord. Only that it's urgent." Vaelaris exchanged a glance with Rhaena.
"Bring him in."The squire bowed and scurried off. A moment later, a man in a roughspun robe entered, his face gaunt, his eyes hollow. He carried a staff, its wood worn smooth by years of use. He bowed deeply, his movements stiff. "Your Grace. Prince Vaelaris."
Vaelaris didn't move. "You have some news." the septon hesitated, then reached into his robe. He pulled out a scrap of parchment, its edges singed. "This was send to us from the Bar Harbor. Left for the smallfolk to find." Vaelaris took it. The parchment was coarse, the ink smudged. The words were simple, but the message was clear: The king is weak. The dragon prince will free us.
Rhaena's breath hissed between her teeth. "They're using your name." Vaelaris didn't answer. He crumpled the parchment in his fist, his golden eyes burning. "Who gave this to you?" His voice was barely a whisper. "A raven came to us"
Vaelaris' jaw tightened. "What did you decide? Are you with them as well " The septon met his gaze and turened ghastly pale " No, your grace. I serve the Seven, Your Grace. But I serve the realm as well. And I fear what comes if this isn't stopped."
Vaelaris studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "You've done well. Go to Grand Maester Benifer. Tell him what you've told us. He'll see you're rewarded." septon bowed again and hurried out. Rhaena watched him go, then turned to Vaelaris. "They're not just defying Jaehaerys. They're calling for you."Vaelaris didn't answer.
He tossed the crumpled parchment into the nearest torch. The flames licked at the edges, then consumed it whole. Vaelaris stared at the burning parchment. "The fools."
Rhaena frowned. "They name you their champion." The fire reflected in his golden eyes. "No." His voice was cold. "They name me their excuse." He watched the parchment blacken. "And I intend to take that excuse away from them."
Far beyond the walls of King's Landing, Vaelkarax waited. The great dragon rested upon a low hill overlooking the kingsroad, his vast wings folded against his bronze-black body. Moonlight gleamed across scales harder than steel, while thin wisps of smoke drifted from his nostrils. Around him the grass had been scorched black.
No shepherd dared bring his flock near. No farmer ventured within sight of the beast. The few smallfolk who glimpsed him from distant hills whispered prayers and hurried home before nightfall. Vaelkarax paid them no mind.
His golden eyes remained fixed upon the distant silhouette of the Red Keep. Waiting. Patient. A low rumble echoed from deep within his chest.
The courtyard was all alive with motion. Men moved in the predawn gloom, their breath misting in the cold air. Horses stamped and snorted, their hooves kicking up dust. The banners of House Targaryen snapped in the wind, three red dragons on black.
Vaelaris stood at the center of it, his cloak billowing behind him, his golden eyes scanning the ranks of the five hundred soldiers gathered there. Rhaena mounted Dreamfyre, the dragon's wings stirring the air as she settled. The men nearest her stepped back, their faces pale in the torchlight. Even the horses shifted uneasily, their ears flattening.
Vaelaris mounted his own horse, a black stallion with a temper to match his rider's. The beast tossed its head, its nostrils flaring, but Vaelaris held it easily, his hands steady on the reins.
Jaehaerys stood at the edge of the courtyard, his crown gone, his face unreadable. He didn't speak. He watched as Vaelaris turned his horse toward the gates and Rhaena followed, Dreamfyre's claws scraping against the stone as she took to the air.
The men fell into formation behind them, their banners snapping, their armor gleaming. they passed through the gates, Vaelaris glanced back once. Jaehaerys still stood there, his hands clenched at the sides/rails. The gates of the Red Keep groaned shut behind them.
Vaelaris did not look back. The wind tugged at his cloak, the black fabric snapping like a war banner.
Above him, Rhaena's dragon circled low, her wings casting fleeting shadows over the cobblestones.
.
.
The column rode through the Lion Gate as the first light of dawn crept across the horizon. Far beyond the city walls, Vaelkarax was already awake. The great dragon rose from his resting place, unfolding wings large enough to cast a shadow across an entire field.
Men stopped and stared.
His Horses whinnied in terror. Vaelaris allowed himself the faintest smile. For days he had left the dragon beyond the city walls, unwilling to confine such a creature within stone and iron. Yet Vaelkarax had remained.
A familiar warmth stirred at the edge of Vaelaris' mind.
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A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter of A Prince of Ash and Fire
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