All Was Calm

At least in Westeros at the beginning of 122 AC, all was calm.

The North was calmly waiting for its duke to die. Oh, no—the Duke of the North had failed to survive the previous year. The North was now ruled by fourteen-year-old Cregan Stark. Yet its true ruler was actually Cregan's uncle, Ser Bennard Stark, the regent and Warden of the North.

The Vale was calmly remaining obscure. No one even knew what was happening beyond the Bloody Gate.

The Riverlands were calmly chaotic. The Blackwood family had killed the Bracken family's chickens, the Bracken family had stolen the Blackwood family's water, the Strongs of Harrenhal had rejected the leadership of lame "Clubfoot" Larys Strong, yet allowed him to take the castle's gold away. Everything was so calm.

The Westerlands were calmly digging for gold, then sending considerable amounts of it to King's Landing, because the duke's younger brother was serving as the king's Master of Ships.

The Reach was calmly playing dead. The Hightower family had once again sent a party to King's Landing to assist Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. The disobedient children of the Tarly family of Horn Hill had run away from home again, and Lord Donald Tarly was carrying his family's Valyrian steel sword, Heartsbane, all over the world as he hunted down his son Alan Tully and youngest daughter Diana Tully.

Dorne was also calmly playing dead. Prince Qoren was still carefully balancing the delicate relationship between the desert lords and mountain lords. The Yronwood family and Vail family were engaged in fierce fighting over their lands. Obara Dayne, the proud lady knight of the Dayne family, had stolen the family's massive meteoric-iron greatsword, Dawn, and vanished without a trace. It was said that this lady knight, whose views on romance were closer to the loyal, monogamous Andals, had cut down every man and woman who tried to court her before riding away from the castle.

The enraged Lord Samwell Dayne had therefore ordered his own daughter wanted.

The Stormlands needed even less mention. It did not have a single piece of news worth paying attention to.

Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, whose figure had been badly distorted by consecutive pregnancies and who no longer possessed the beauty of her youth, sat in a specially made chair, enjoying the cool breeze stirred by her maid.

She was pregnant once more and would give birth before long.

"The little one is strong." Rhaenyra smiled as she stroked her swollen belly. Since becoming pregnant with this child, she had not ridden a dragon even once. It was said that Syrax, that magnificent golden beast, had been wailing in the Dragonmont for quite some time. "It should be a boy."

The maid did not dare answer the princess.

The princess smiled and shook her head. "There is no need to be afraid. A girl would be my little princess too. Where are the children?"

Only then did the maid answer. "Prince Jacaerys is in the Dragonmont keeping Vermax company. Prince Lucerys and Prince Joffrey are still in lessons. Prince Aegon is still asleep; the wet nurse has just finished feeding him."

"You have done well." The princess gestured for the maid to stop fanning. "Go rest. I want to sleep alone for a while."

The maid lowered the fan and curtsied slightly. "As you command, Princess." The moment she turned around, she ran straight into Prince Daemon, who was covered in dust.

Daemon Targaryen was a formidable man. His silver hair was carelessly tied behind his head, and the years had left many marks upon him.

Yet the prince's distinctive charisma had not changed. The red giant beast, the Blood Wyrm Caraxes, was his dragon companion. Over the past several decades, both prince and dragon had won glorious renown in battle.

He smiled at the maid and gestured for her to leave. Only then did he untie the pack on his back.

Inside was a dragon egg, still giving off heat.

Daemon opened the bronze vessel being heated in the center of the room and carefully placed the dragon egg inside.

"Syrax did well." The prince smiled at his wife. "She laid another dragon egg. That black wild dragon tried to steal it, but Caraxes and Syrax drove it off together."

"The Cannibal?" That wild dragon, which loved hunting young dragons and stealing dragon eggs, had already been deemed a grave danger by the residents of Dragonstone. Princess Rhaenyra naturally knew of it. "Daemon, once the child is born, we can hunt down that wild dragon together. We cannot let it keep hunting dragons."

"I understand, Rhaenyra." Daemon washed his hands and face in the basin beside him, then quietly walked over to his wife and crouched down. He pressed his ear against Rhaenyra's belly, seemingly listening to the unborn child. Even his voice grew much softer. "Do not worry about such things."

Just then, an earth-shaking dragon roar suddenly came from outside the window.

Daemon thoughtfully covered Princess Rhaenyra's ears before looking through the window toward the shadow outside.

A bronze dragon soared into the sky, beating its wings as it flew westward.

A slightly gentler dragon cry followed close behind. A silver dragon also beat its wings and flew west.

"Vomysor?" Daemon recognized the identities of the two giant beasts. "And Silverwing? Are they going out to feed?"

Princess Rhaenyra shook her head.

Ever since King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had died, those two inseparable giant beasts had never been tamed again.

The "Bronze Fury," Vomysor, had once been the mount of King Jaehaerys, the "Old King," the "Conciliator," and the "Arbiter." This bronze giant beast was the second-largest dragon in Westeros, surpassed only by the aged colossus Vhagar. Silverwing had once belonged to the "Good Queen," Alysanne. Though this magnificent silver dragon was smaller, she had once flown over mountains and snowy plains, bringing peace and tranquility to this land.

No one knew what they intended to do.

A high-pitched dragon roar followed, along with a sharp cry like a serpent's hiss.

For some reason, Syrax and Caraxes also began roaring, though neither took flight after them.

Very soon.

The king's desk received the intelligence from Dragonstone as well.

"Your Grace, a letter from Dragonstone." Grand Maester Mellos handed the letter to King Viserys, who was arranging a model.

The king was a slightly plump man with a silver beard and gentle brows and eyes. Before him stood a model of King's Landing large enough to fill most of the room.

This was Viserys I's ambition.

The city of King's Landing left behind by King Aegon had in truth been a mess of blind expansion. Only under Jaehaerys I's diligent rule had it gradually been set on the right track.

Viserys intended to continue that undertaking, revising the capital's plans and fostering the city's rebirth.

The king carefully switched the positions of two buildings, then laboriously straightened up and looked at the grand maester. "Read it."

Mellos unfolded the letter. "Your Grace, word has come from Dragonstone. The 'Bronze Fury' Vomysor and Silverwing have left Dragonstone, seemingly to hunt in the Narrow Sea. Prince Daemon pursued them on dragonback for some distance but discovered nothing unusual."

"Mm. I trust they can handle such a minor matter. Is there anything else?"

Mellos glanced toward the door. "The Hand of the King requests an audience."

"Otto?" The king waved his hand impatiently. "Send him back. It is already very late today."

"As you command."

This chapter was delayed a little; consider it the second July 14 update check-in.