The night pressed heavily upon King's Landing, thick with unease. Torchlight flickered along the halls of the Red Keep, chasing away shadows yet failing to drive off the deeper dread that hung in the air.King Jaehaerys Targaryen could not afford to wait any longer. Every moment of hesitation was another chance for that unpredictable variable—Rayder Mirasis—to grow stronger, to further entangle himself within the already turbulent politics of Westeros.Jaehaerys understood with cruel clarity: the longer this dragged on, the greater the danger Rayder posed. That man, with his strange dragons born from beyond their understanding, was like wildfire smoldering at the edge of a dry forest. Left unattended, it would consume them all.If Rayder could not be destroyed outright, then he must be bent, broken, or turned into an ally of House Targaryen. The dynasty's survival depended upon it.His voice rasped from both weakness and age, yet it carried the authority that had once commanded the realm."Give the order!" he croaked, forcing himself upright against the weight of his frail body. "Summon them—all who can come. Every member of House Targaryen must attend at once!"The attendant nearby froze, then bowed hastily. The urgency in the old king's tone left no room for hesitation.Jaehaerys struggled into a sitting position. His silver hair clung damp to his brow, his breathing shallow. He gestured impatiently until someone brought forth the crown.The cold metal pressed against his skin, steadying him. The weight of it reminded him that he was still king, still the spine of a dynasty teetering on the edge. His body might be withering, but his will had not yet broken.Within the hour, the Red Keep blazed with firelight. Servants rushed about, carrying messages through the winding halls and down into the streets. Word spread through King's Landing like sparks on the wind.The summons was extraordinary—urgent, absolute.Every branch of the Targaryen family, no matter their current quarrels or simmering resentments, knew better than to ignore it. Whatever bitterness lay between them, this was a matter that could not be treated as ordinary council business.---By the time the heavy doors of the throne room opened, the Iron Throne loomed ominously in the firelight. There sat Jaehaerys, pale and trembling, but still upon the throne of swords. His weakened body appeared swallowed by the jagged iron, yet his eyes held a fire that kept every gaze fixed upon him.A heavy silence hung over the gathering. The air itself seemed tense, as if even the stone walls strained to hear what was to come.Viserys stood with stiff shoulders, his lips pressed thin. Beside him, Daemon's expression was unreadable, though a glimmer of anticipation flashed in his violet eyes. To them, the king's sudden summons smelled of opportunity as much as danger.Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, shifted uneasily. His sharp eyes darted to his wife, Rhaenys. She sat with the quiet dignity of one accustomed to scrutiny, her face calm though her thoughts raced. She had been the one to bring tidings of Rayder to her grandfather. Now she measured every flicker of reaction in the room, every twitch of impatience in her kin.Jaehaerys gathered his breath, each word costing him strength. He did not waste time with pleasantries. His voice was hoarse but heavy with command."Listen well. You know why you are here. The matter is no longer a rumor, no longer speculation. It is truth."He paused, steadying himself with one hand upon the armrest."There exists a man named Rayder Mirasis," Jaehaerys said, his tone grim. "A man tied to dragons unlike any we have ever known. Not of our blood, yet commanding beasts that rival, perhaps even surpass, ours. He is a stone cast into a pond, and the ripples already reach our shores."His words fell like lead. Even the bravest hearts in the chamber felt the cold bite of those implications.Jaehaerys continued, his voice trembling with age and urgency alike. "We cannot watch idly as he grows. We cannot allow him to sow discord among us. And we dare not allow him the chance to challenge the might of House Targaryen itself."The silence grew heavier, broken only when Viserys stepped forward. His tone carried an edge, sharp with suppressed resentment."Then why do we hesitate, Grandfather? Let us act swiftly. Strike him down before he gains more strength. Whatever his beasts may be, we still command four dragons of our own—four against three."Daemon's lips curved into a half-smile. His voice cut smoothly through the tension. "Strike him down, you say? Bold words. But do not forget, brother—his dragons are not like ours. Reports say they are larger, fiercer, more terrible than even Balerion in his prime. A reckless strike could be our undoing."Viserys bristled, glaring. "And what would you suggest? To cower? To let this outsider spread his wings until he overshadows us all?""Enough!"The word cracked like a whip. Jaehaerys slammed a trembling hand upon the armrest. Though the motion lacked strength, the authority behind it silenced both men instantly."This is not the hour for quarrels!" the old king barked. "Rayder may become our greatest ally or our greatest doom—but we will not tear each other apart while the storm gathers outside."The room fell silent once more.After long debate, fierce argument, and subtle maneuvering, the Targaryens reached a fragile consensus.They would not dismiss Rayder as a mere threat. Nor would they welcome him blindly. Instead, they would meet him—on ground of their choosing, and on terms that favored their house.Four dragons would be gathered: the might of House Targaryen itself.An ambush near Dragonstone, where Rayder was most likely to pass. There, they would confront him with both open hand and hidden blade.If persuasion succeeded, if he could be bound by marriage and his dragons brought into the fold, then House Targaryen's strength would surge beyond imagining.But if he resisted… then dragonfire would decide the matter.Jaehaerys closed his eyes briefly, then began to name the beasts one by one, each syllable heavy with pride and sorrow alike."Vermithor… my Bronze Fury. Silverwing, once my beloved Alysanne's. Caraxes, Daemon's Blood Wyrm. And Meleys, the Red Queen of Rhaenys."Four great dragons. The last remnants of their once-unmatched legacy.Though mighty, Jaehaerys knew the truth that haunted them all: Rayder's brood might outmatch them still.He leaned back, weary. His voice softened. "This is the only path left to us. May the gods have mercy on us all."The meeting dissolved, heavy with foreboding. Some left in silence, others with muttered schemes upon their lips.Viserys lingered alone when the hall emptied, his shadow stretching long beneath the Iron Throne.Bitterness gnawed at him. He, Viserys Targaryen, heir to the throne by blood and name, had no dragon to call his own. Not one. The others would ride into battle astride living gods, while he stood chained to the ground, mocked by fate.His thoughts turned black. How am I to rule if I cannot command the very symbol of our power? How will they ever bend knee to me?His mind flashed to Balerion, the Black Dread—the greatest dragon ever known, whom he had once ridden. Compared to Balerion, the others were pale shadows. Vermithor, Silverwing, even Caraxes and Meleys—they were mighty, yes, but not enough. Not pure enough.A dangerous thought stirred. To tame a dragon once more. To seize one of the untamed terrors that still lurked—Cannibal, wild and ancient, or perhaps Vhagar, great and terrible in her age.The image both tempted and frightened him. To ride again would restore his stature. To fail… would mean death.Hesitation warred with ambition, while across the hall, Rhaenys was already plotting her own course.The game had changed. Rayder Mirasis had entered the board, and no one—not even the Iron Throne itself—would escape the storm that followed..
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