THE PRICE OF UNITY

𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘳𝘮𝘴

Luck seemed to favor Daemon as he was welcomed back to Driftmark with open arms, despite the discord his sons had sown during Laena's funeral. The tensions of the past seemed to be momentarily set aside in favor of the larger war looming on the horizon. In a rare display of familial unity, Laenor agreed to accompany Daemon on his next journey, bringing along his daughters, Baela and Rhaena. It was a brief but necessary show of strength and solidarity. Monterys Velaryon, Laenor's heir, remained behind at Driftmark, entrusted to the care of Rhaenys and Corlys. Together, they stood as guardians of Driftmark, ready to fight for the true queen of the realm, Rhaenyra.

As they mounted their dragons, Laenor and his daughters flew ahead toward Dragonstone, where their family awaited them. Daemon, however, had unfinished business elsewhere. His restlessness led him in another direction, one that Rhaenyra might not fully approve of—but in his eyes, it was a necessary step, a surprise for his beloved queen. His thoughts swirled with strategy and ambition as Caraxes beat his great wings, carrying him towards Harrenhal, the cursed fortress of old kings. To Daemon, it was not just a ruin—it was the key to the Riverlands, a strategic stronghold that could solidify their claim to the Iron Throne.

Harrenhal was a place steeped in blood and power, its massive towers now half-crumbling from the infamous curse of Harren the Black. Yet, Daemon saw potential in its high walls and commanding view of the surrounding lands. If he could win the loyalty of the lords of the Riverlands, Rhaenyra's cause would be immeasurably strengthened. With the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands united behind them, the path to King's Landing would be clear, and the Iron Throne could be reclaimed.

Daemon's mind raced with plans. He had always been a man of action, driven by both passion and a hunger for power, but this was different. This was for Rhaenyra, for their future. He knew the Riverlords would rally if he offered them strength and certainty.

Their forces were already formidable, especially with the dragons. Caraxes, his blood-red serpent, was a terror in battle. Rhaenyra's Syrax had proven a fearsome beast. Laenor's Seasmoke, nimble and swift, could harry their enemies from the skies. Baela's Moondancer, though smaller, was quick and fierce, while Sunfyre, the golden dragon of Aegon, shone like the sun in the midst of battle. Then there were the others—Arrax, Dreamfyre, and Tessarion—each a force to be reckoned with.

Yet, despite their formidable numbers, Rhaenyra had been clear in her commands. The younger riders—Aemond, Helaena, and Daeron—were to stay away from the frontlines. Their inexperience was a liability, and she would not risk them in the chaos of battle. Not their children. Daemon, though ever the risk-taker, understood her reasoning. Aemond had fire in his veins, but there was much he had yet to learn. Helaena, gentle and quiet, was not suited for the horrors of war. Daeron, still so young, had yet to prove himself.

Meanwhile, at Dragonstone, two dragons of legend remained riderless—Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, and Silverwing, once ridden by Queen Alysanne. Vermithor, a great beast nearly as large as Vhagar, stood as a silent sentinel, awaiting a new rider. Silverwing, once known for providing clutches of eggs for future Targaryens. Daemon knew that, when the time came, maybe Rhaena might claim one of these great creatures, further bolstering their strength. The thought of it brought a sharp, proud smile to his lips. With such dragons in their control, their cause would be all but unstoppable.

Yet the enemy was not without their own strength. Across the realm, the pretenders—those who stood against Rhaenyra's rightful claim—had formidable assets as well. Chief among them was Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon alive, ridden by the one-eyed king, Jacaerys. Vhagar was a beast of legend, once ridden by Queen Visenya herself, and her size alone could turn the tide of any battle. Lucaerion's dragon, too, added to their numbers, a swift and vicious foe in the sky. The greens might have fewer dragons, but they held the one dragon who could challenge even Vermithor.