Dragon's flame

[Dragonstone – Painted Table Chambers]

The room was thick with tension. Gathered around the painted table were the lords whose fleets formed the backbone of Westeros' naval power: House Redwyne, House Velaryon, House Baratheon, House Lannister, and the Royal Navy.

"Your Grace, I must extend my deepest apologies for the Lannister navy's inability to be present," said Jason Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, his tone laced with careful regret.

At the head of the table stood King Viserys Targaryen, his hand resting lightly on its edge. To his left stood Rhaenyra, his named heir, flanked by Daemon and their children. To his right were Aemond and Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. Across from them, Aelyx and Daenerys stood firm, flanked by Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen.

Viserys sighed heavily at Jason's words, his expression weary. "Advise me on how we should proceed," he commanded, his voice steady yet burdened with expectation.

"I say we burn Tyrosh to the ground," Daemon declared with a smirk, his words cutting through the air like a blade.

Viserys turned to his younger brother, fixing him with a disapproving frown. Daemon, as always, seemed to thrive in chaos.

"We should lure the fleet of Tyrosh out, destroy it, and then sow discord among Myr and Lys by spreading word of dragon eggs. Once they are weakened and divided, we strike Tyrosh itself and take the city," Aelyx interjected, his tone calm yet commanding.

All eyes turned to Aelyx. A faint smirk played on Viserys' lips, mirrored by Daemon. If only Aelyx weren't blind, Viserys thought ruefully.

"But how do we lure them into such a trap?" Otto inquired, skepticism lacing his words.

"We use the ships of House Redwyne and House Velaryon as bait," Corlys suggested.

Lord Redwyne shot Corlys a sharp glare, his displeasure evident.

"If the bait fails, Aemond, me and Uncle Daemon will be nearby on our dragons to ensure success," Aelyx added smoothly, his confidence unshaken.

The lords exchanged hesitant nods, acknowledging the soundness of the plan.

"And if Myr and Lys decide to intervene?" Aemond asked, his voice sharp and measured.

"Rhaenys and I will keep watch over their forces," Daenerys replied firmly. "If they make a wrong move, we burn them to ash."

Aelyx smiled faintly, the corners of his lips curling upward.

Viserys nodded in approval. "Rhaenyra, you will remain on Dragonstone with Syrax and Otto."

---

[High Council of the Triarchy – Tyrosh]

The High Council of the Triarchy, comprised of 33 magisters—11 from each Free City—was in disarray.

"The Targaryens will burn our cities to the ground! We must act swiftly!" one magister exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic.

"Your city, Magister of Tyrosh," another retorted sharply. "According to the intelligence we've received, your Archon possesses three dragon eggs stolen from House Targaryen. It's as if you wanted to provoke war!"

The Tyroshi magisters exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale with shock. Even they hadn't known of the Archon's reckless actions.

---

[Shipbreaker Bay]

The ships of House Velaryon and House Redwyne floated seemingly unguarded in the calm waters of Shipbreaker Bay, as if inviting an attack.

"Look, a perfect opportunity for an ambush," a Tyroshi captain said eagerly.

"Inform the Archon immediately," another added.

The Tyroshi fleet, at full strength, sailed toward the bay under the command of Rudric, a Valyrian bastard and notorious pirate who had terrorized the Summer Sea. Rudric had been promised a dragon egg in exchange for leading the fleet to victory.

"Prepare for battle," Rudric ordered, a sly grin on his face. "We'll crush the Westerosi navy in one swift strike."

As the Tyroshi fleet entered the bay, the deafening roars of dragons split the air.

Vhagar and Caraxes descended from the skies like harbingers of death, their fiery breath turning the Tyroshi fleet into a sea of flames.

Rudric and his men fell into chaos. Many leapt into the water, desperate to escape the inferno. With no scorpions or defenses against the dragons, the fleet of 90 ships was decimated, leaving only 10 to 20 battered vessels to retreat.

---

[Royal Flagship – Shipbreaker Bay]

Onboard the royal flagship, Viserys Targaryen watched in awe and exhilaration as Daemon and Aemond unleashed the full fury of dragonfire upon the enemy fleet. A long-buried ember flared to life within him.

I want a dragon of my own, he thought, the fire of Valyria awakening in his heart.

---

[The Siege of Tyrosh]

Within days, the Royal Navy laid siege to Tyrosh, cutting off all routes of escape. The city was encircled, both by sea and by dragons patrolling the skies.

In the king's private chambers aboard the flagship, Aelyx presented his counsel.

"Father, I suggest we send ravens to the other magisters of Tyrosh. They will not wish to perish for the recklessness of one man," he said calmly.

"I say we burn the city to the ground and retrieve the eggs from the rubble," Daemon countered with a grin.

"It won't be necessary. I've already identified the location of the eggs," Aelyx revealed.

Viserys raised an eyebrow, surprised but impressed. He nodded in agreement, deciding to send the ravens.

---

[King's Landing – Alicent's Chambers]

Alicent Hightower paced restlessly. Her thoughts churned as she considered her eldest son.

What am I to do with Aegon? she lamented. He is pathetic, drowning himself in drink and debauchery. Even Viserys refused to take him on this campaign. At least Aemond turned out differently.

The realm was in upheaval, with Viserys at the helm of an unrelenting war effort.

Once a meek and peaceful king, Viserys had transformed into a true dragonlord of Valyria. Those who defied him were met with fire and blood—first the Iron Islands, then House Mooton, House Staunton, Dorne, the Triarchy, and now Tyrosh.

"Your Grace, Larys Strong requests an audience," Ser Criston Cole announced, pulling her from her thoughts.

---

[Tyrosh – Captured Archon's Fate]

"Let me go!" the former Archon of Tyrosh screamed as he was dragged into the Targaryen war camp, his path flanked by two formidable dragons.

Viserys sat in judgment, flanked by Daemon and Aelyx, their hands ready to draw their swords at a moment's notice.

"You crossed House Targaryen," Viserys declared in a voice as cold as ice. "That was your crime—and your mistake."

"You incestuous scum!" the Archon spat, his face twisted with rage.

Daemon smirked, his voice laced with mockery. "It's not our fault your family's women are so ugly you wouldn't dare sleep with them."

The Archon's face burned with fury.

A magister stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Here is the Archon of Tyrosh, your enemy. Please, lift the siege now."

Viserys' eyes glinted dangerously. "You misunderstand. We are not here to see this wretch's face. We are here to reclaim what belongs to House Targaryen—our dragon eggs."

For the first time, Daemon looked proud of his brother. Aelyx, standing tall beside him, wore a faint but knowing smile.

Viserys had changed. The meek, peaceful king was gone. In his place stood a dragonlord reborn, forged by fire and vengeance, determined to ensure that the legacy of House Targaryen would never falter again