If it were truly possible to hatch new Titan Dragons, the idea made Rayder's mind whirl with possibilities. The wealth, the power, the sheer influence he could wield—it was intoxicating. If I could make this feasible… if I could breed even a small legion of dragons, the world would be mine in ways no army or army of men could achieve.
Rayder's mind was alive with visions of a future dominated not just by kings and armies, but by dragons—an unstoppable, awe-inspiring force under his command. Kidora should work harder, he thought with a sly smile. A few more offspring, perhaps? One day, a dragon legion entirely born from my own designs…
Yet, even as these audacious plans formed, Kidora stirred uneasily beside him. A chill ran down its immense, scaled spine, creeping invisibly through the gaps in its armored body. Its three heads lifted abruptly, sweeping the surroundings with alert eyes, nostrils twitching as though sniffing some invisible danger. The streets of King's Landing were quiet, empty at this hour, and yet the dragon's instincts screamed that something was amiss.
A low, rumbling hum emanated from Kidora's throat, a sound that carried both warning and confusion. The massive creature's body, attuned to subtle shifts in the world, was reacting not to the obvious, but to something far deeper, something buried within the threads of fate itself. Was it Rayder's thoughts that disturbed it? Or was the danger truly external, hidden beyond sight? Kidora could not say, but its instincts, honed over centuries of survival, were clear: caution was required.
Meanwhile, in a shadowed corner of King's Landing, Erlad and Corlys met once more. Their previous encounters had been tense, but this meeting carried a weight that seemed almost suffocating. Words were few; their conversation was distilled into glances, half-sentences, and subtle hints of meaning, each more loaded than the last. When they finally parted, the atmosphere between them remained thick with unease.
Erlad's face was grim, shadowed by worry and fatigue. The gains from his previous efforts were minimal—only the vaguest promise regarding trade taxes for newly granted lands, and the burden of convincing Rayder to support Laenor had fallen squarely on his shoulders. The sense of being trapped, caught between conflicting obligations and dangerous unknowns, gnawed at him. I am being forced to gamble everything on a man I can barely predict, he thought bitterly. And for what? For promises that may never be kept.
Corlys, on the other hand, carried his own complex emotions. Relief, certainly—Rayder had agreed, albeit with demands that strained logic and loyalty—but also a subtle anxiety and an almost imperceptible hint of guilt. He had hoped that Erlad's influence would persuade the enigmatic Rayder, and yet he could not shake the feeling that they were all walking a razor's edge. That this agreement, however promising, was only the beginning of a far greater danger.
Corlys knew, too, that he could no longer hide the truth from Rhaenys. For the sake of Laenor, for their future and the survival of their shared ambitions, he had made arrangements that skirted the boundaries of propriety, even morality. Yet, as night fell and he attempted to explain his dealings to his wife, the conversation erupted in a storm of emotion. Rhaenys, shocked and furious, could not comprehend the risks her husband had taken, or why he would involve Erlad and the unknown, dangerously powerful Rayder in their schemes.
The argument escalated quickly. Voices rose, sharp with accusation and disappointment, echoing through the halls of their residence. The tension was so thick that it seemed the slightest misstep could ignite a physical altercation. For a moment, swords were nearly drawn, and the air itself seemed charged with the potential for violence. Only Corlys's restraint and love for his wife prevented catastrophe, yet the rift between them was now unmistakable, carving deep into the foundation of their trust.
Across the sea at Dragonstone, King Jaehaerys had recovered enough to return his focus to the capital, though his body remained fragile and slower than in youth. Even from a distance, he monitored King's Landing with the vigilance of a seasoned monarch. Through Ser Otto Hightower, his Hand, and a network of spies and raven messengers, he remained informed of every move in the city—the arrival of Rayder, Erlad's contact with him, and the subtle political currents swirling around the impending Grand Council.
The old king's brows were permanently furrowed as he considered the emerging threat. The presence of Rayder, a young man commanding three dragons, introduced a variable no one could predict. Jaehaerys sensed the brewing storm beneath the calm surface of the city. Every noble's whisper, every shadowed meeting, and every strategic maneuver was magnified by the potential influence of this formidable outsider.
It was clear to Jaehaerys that he must return to King's Landing. Though the journey would test his aging body, he understood the necessity of personal involvement. Beyond the political stakes, he also sought clarity from Rhaenys: would she continue to support him, or had his choices fractured their relationship beyond repair? The answers mattered as much as the city's fate itself.
The decision was made to travel by ship rather than dragon. Their age and frailty dictated caution, and a low profile was preferable to attract as little attention as possible. The king's party arrived quietly, unnoticed by the common people, and immediately set to work. Jaehaerys prioritized a meeting with his favored heir, Viserys, briefing him on Corlys's dealings with Rayder and arranging for Otto to accompany him in securing the backing of influential houses: Lannister, Baratheon, Tyrell, and Arryn.
Every action Jaehaerys undertook was strategic. The Grand Council process was not mere tradition; it was a mechanism to cement Viserys's claim to succession, ensuring public recognition and support among the great families. In times of political instability, any oversight could be catastrophic. The king moved meticulously, aware that the balance of power was precarious and easily disrupted.
Not all were satisfied. Queen Alysanne, having already been stripped of her claim to the Iron Throne simply for being female, was deeply disappointed. Now even her son appeared excluded from certain arrangements, fueling her frustration. She perceived Jaehaerys's actions as an extension of his inherent bias against women—a belief that they were unfit to rule or maintain the delicate balance of power within the Seven Kingdoms. She refused to accompany the king in persuading Rhaenys, convinced that any attempt to justify his actions was nothing more than righteous oppression, masking personal prejudice.
Though Alysanne's confrontation was subdued in tone compared to Rhaenys's earlier explosion, the discord was unmistakable. Jaehaerys recognized the limits of persuasion. His wife's anger and disappointment were immovable barriers, and he realized he would have to confront Rhaenys alone, laying bare the complexity of the decisions he had made, the risks he had accepted, and the responsibilities he bore as King.
Amid these political and personal storms, Rayder's dragon, Kidora, remained restless. The unease that had struck earlier had not entirely dissipated. Its instincts remained sharp, alert to forces beyond immediate perception, reminding Rayder that even amidst planning and pleasure, the world was never static, and every choice carried consequences—both visible and unseen.
The tension between desire and caution, ambition and responsibility, loyalty and distrust, threaded through every corner of King's Landing. Lords and kings, queens and dragons—all moved like pieces on a chessboard whose outcome was uncertain. In this web of power, Rayder's ambitions for dragon legions, Corlys's fragile political arrangements, Erlad's risk-laden loyalties, and Jaehaerys's careful maneuvers intertwined, creating a tapestry of intrigue, uncertainty, and potential disaster.
It was a city poised on the edge of disharmony, and none could predict who would emerge unscathed, or who would fall victim to the shifting tides of ambition, desire, and fate.
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