Driftmark - A Fortnight Later
The morning sun shone bright against the sea-glistened towers of High Tide, as the Velaryon banners billowed proudly in the salt-kissed wind. On the courtyard below, a force of one hundred men stood in perfect formation, polished armor gleaming, spears upright like a forest of steel. Each soldier bore the crest of House Velaryon—a silver seahorse on aquamarine—and behind them, three Velaryon ships waited in the harbor, sails fluttering with promise.
Vaeron Velaryon stood before them, adorned in ceremonial armor of deep blue and silver, a flowing cloak trimmed in velvet sea-green trailing behind him. His violet eyes reflected the determination in his heart. Today, they would begin their journey to King's Landing.
Behind him stood Lord Corlys Velaryon, proud and regal in his lordly mantle, and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, her golden-scaled armor capturing the sunlight like fire.
Corlys clasped Vaeron's shoulder. "The realm will see the strength of Driftmark today. Let the dragons at court know we have not been idle."
Rhaenys leaned in and whispered, her voice tinged with warmth, "And let the court see my son for who he truly is."
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POV: Rhaenys Targaryen
As the ship set sail from Driftmark, Rhaenys watched her son from the deck, studying how he coordinated their departure with quiet authority. He had changed since his nameday. There was something more focused, more potent about him now. Not merely stronger, but... fuller. Grounded in purpose. She had felt it from the moment he returned from the cliff where the sea met the sky.
There was steel in him now, a regal confidence she had not seen even in Corlys when he was younger. Vaeron stood like a prince, but moved like a warrior born of tide and tempest. She had raised him, yes, but now she felt she was glimpsing the man he was always meant to become.
And it stirred something deep within her heart—a pride too great for words.
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The Royal Procession
Upon arrival at King's Landing, the royal gates opened for the House Velaryon procession. They were greeted with formality and honor. Their arrival stirred interest, for it was not often that the full might of Driftmark presented itself at court.
Vaeron dismounted before the Red Keep, his boots echoing on stone as the gates opened. At his side, his parents flanked him like a royal guard.
They were led through the crimson halls of the keep, past marble statues and dragon-torched banners, into the throne room.
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POV: King Viserys I Targaryen
The Iron Throne loomed before him as he watched the Velaryon heir approach. Viserys's gaze flicked to Corlys, his old friend, and then to Rhaenys, who inclined her head. But his eyes lingered on the boy—no, the man—who approached with the confidence of a king's equal.
"Your Grace," Vaeron said with perfect courtesy, bowing his head.
"Vaeron Velaryon," Viserys replied. "You have grown into solid young man. And now you come to compete in the tournament?"
"Yes, Your Grace. And to prove Driftmark's strength."
Viserys smiled, a warmth returning to his voice. "So be it. You have my favor. And more than that... you shall have your chance at a dragon."
A hush fell over the room. Viserys gestured toward a parchment.
"There are many dragons within the pit, unclaimed. If you prove your worth in the tournament, you may choose one."
Vaeron bowed again. "It shall be done."
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Later That Evening – The Tournament Grounds
The fields outside King's Landing bustled with tents and training circles. Knights and squires swarmed about, the sound of steel clashing echoing in the air.
Vaeron stood at the edge of the training field, armor gleaming in the dying light, surrounded by his personal guard. He drew his sword in a single smooth motion and began to demonstrate forms.
Every movement was deliberate, measured—his swordsmanship now honed by perfect training regimens enhanced by his Lord System. At White Bronze Level 4, he was no ordinary knight. His blade sang through the air, his steps so swift and precise that even the seasoned veterans paused to watch.
Rhaenyra Targaryen arrived at the edge of the field, curiosity in her eyes.
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POV: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen
She had come out of interest—she told herself that much. But as she watched Vaeron train, that interest sharpened. He moved like a storm channeled through steel.
He was unlike the lords she had grown up around—not just noble, not just handsome, but deeply... capable. Commanding. There was no pretense to him. Only certainty.
Their eyes met briefly as he sheathed his blade. And in that glance, she felt something unspoken pass between them. A spark. Recognition.
She turned away quickly, heat in her cheeks, but her thoughts lingered on him.
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That Night – Within the Velaryon Tent
As the night fell, Vaeron sat in quiet meditation. His system interface appeared before him:
> Mission Updated: Prove your strength in the Royal Tournament. Reward: Dragon Claim Ticket (Choose from unbonded dragons in the pit)
> Note: Defeating major royal participants will yield greater loyalty and recognition across the realm.
> Bonus Objective: Impress Rhaenyra Targaryen. Status: In Progress.
He smirked. So even the System noticed.
Corlys entered the tent.
"You made an impression," his father said. "The court is whispering your name already. But tomorrow will be the test. Daemon is here. Ser Harwin Breakbones. Even Ser Criston Cole."
Vaeron nodded. "Then tomorrow, I prove I belong."
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End of Chapter 4