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Ga of Thrones: House of Black Dragon
Ga of Thrones: BLOODTHIRSTY BASTARD
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After sending off the firecracker that was Cersei, Daeron headed toward the king's apartnts. He still needed to see his father and work on their relationship.
"Westerosi tradition really does suit monogamy better," he thought as he walked.
Born a Targaryen and now heir to the Iron Throne, he had to think about marriage from every possible angle. No matter what, Shaena would always be his first choice.
Cersei was fine—if you ignored her terrifying intellect. She would bring beauty, fertility, the full backing of House Lannister, and reassurance to the lords and smallfolk of Westeros. After all, most people preferred a Targaryen prince to marry outside the family rather than keep it all in-house.
Daeron was about to be crowned. He was still short on goodwill. He had relied on overwhelming force—dragons—and undeniable military victories to silence the nobility. His reforms mostly benefited the smallfolk, which had already annoyed plenty of lords. Houses Caswell and Peake had been the loudest of that group.
"But I don't really need it," he decided.
If he changed his true feelings just to please others, that would be letting other people live inside his head. Stupid.
Cersei had everything going for her, but she still couldn't compete. She was beautiful and fertile—so was Shaena. Cersei's real advantage was Tywin standing behind her and the na Lannister. But Daeron didn't need to court House Lannister that hard right now.
He and Tywin had reached a comfortable balance. Both sides helped each other without stepping on toes. If Daeron married Cersei, Tywin would imdiately push for more, and that delicate balance would shatter.
One of the root causes of the Dance had been Otto Hightower's overreach—helping his daughter and grandchildren seize the throne. Tywin was Otto on steroids. The damage would be far worse.
Daeron wasn't too worried about that. He was confident he could live a long ti and keep any in-laws in check. But there was no point. Marrying a woman he didn't truly want just to gain sothing he didn't really need? Not worth the headache.
His priorities were simple: family and dragons. Further out—opportunities on the eastern continent.
"No need to chase what isn't for sale. Let's see who can stay patient longer."
Daeron was practical. He knew exactly what he needed and what others needed. The things he wanted were already within reach. The things others wanted could only co from him. And the things he truly needed, no one else could provide.
"How far are you willing to go, teacher?" he wondered.
At the sa ti, he found himself thinking about Rhaegar. Not out of sentint—just to see what lessons his brother's multiple-wife experint might offer. Rhaegar had taken the bla, but he hadn't shared any of the practical experience. A sha.
---
The Stepstones — Bloodstone Island
"Kill them all!"
The rocky island echoed with war cries, clashing steel, and the wet sounds of flesh being torn. Smoke from the fighting blotted out the midday sun.
"Prince, watch out!"
Myles cut down a Myr pirate and turned just in ti to see Prince Rhaegar surrounded.
They had launched a dawn assault on Bloodstone. The fighting had dragged on for nearly twelve hours. The sun now stood directly overhead.
On the far side of the battlefield, Rhaegar stood in black steel armor and a crimson cloak, calmly facing five pirates on a muddy patch littered with corpses. His armor was dented, his cloak filthy, but he still carried himself with that familiar graceful poise.
He moved like water. One thrust opened a throat. A sweeping cut opened another man's belly. The last pirate tried to run. Rhaegar snatched up a fallen spear and hurled it. The shaft punched straight through the man's back and pinned him to the ground.
Rhaegar leaned on his sword, breathing hard. Even with a Life Seed, twelve hours of brutal fighting took its toll.
Myles and Richard reached him monts later, both covered in blood and looking worse for wear.
"Prince, are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Go help the others."
Rhaegar looked across the field. The tide had turned. The pirates holding Bloodstone had never been united—so from the Triarchy, so from the Sumr Sea, so from Slaver's Bay. They looked nurous, but they were a rabble. Once Rhaegar's n pressed them hard, the whole coalition shattered.
Myles stayed with the prince while Richard went to finish the fight.
When it was over, Myles climbed the highest hill, tore down the ragged pirate banners, and planted the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen in their place.
Rhaegar barely glanced up. He sat on a broken barricade and began cleaning his sword.
It was a Valyrian steel blade—House Rogare's ancestral sword, "Truth." A beautiful hand-and-a-half sword with a silver-gray blade that rippled like water and a crossguard set with red and green gems. Queen Rhaella might favor her second son, but she had been right about one thing: when it ca to governance and winning allies, Rhaegar was far more skilled than Daeron.
Back in Lys, Marana Rogare had fallen for him at first sight and introduced him to her brother Fleck. Fleck had seen sothing special in the fallen prince. The Rogare na still carried weight—pure Valyrian blood, once rulers of all Lys. They had even intermarried with House Targaryen in the past.
Fleck had knelt that very night and offered everything: gold, ships, even the family sword "Truth" on loan. All he asked in return was one promise—if Rhaegar ever took Lys, Fleck would be his Hand.
A true angel investor.
Rhaegar had accepted the sword gladly. Ser Arthur had taken Dawn with him when he left, and Rhaegar needed a Valyrian steel weapon both for training and for war.
"Prince, the battlefield is clear."
Myles returned, one arm hanging uselessly, blood soaking his sleeve.
"Get that wound treated. We still have hard fighting ahead."
Myles grinned through the pain. "Just scratches."
More n gathered— the Tattered Prince, ro of the Second Sons, Oberyn Martell. Oberyn was covered head to toe in blood, his spear cracked, but he dropped down beside Rhaegar with a savage smile.
"We took Bloodstone. What now?"
"Obviously we clear the smaller islands around it, then hit Grey Gallows last!" ro bellowed.
It was a solid plan. Bloodstone and Grey Gallows were the only two large islands worth holding. Everything else orbited them. They didn't have the strength yet to challenge the Triarchy on Grey Gallows, so consolidating the smaller rocks first made sense.
Oberyn was more cautious. "If we start grabbing the little islands, the Triarchy will notice. Taking Grey Gallows after that will be ten tis harder."
Rhaegar already had his own plan. "Any word from the Golden Company?"
The Tattered Prince answered lazily. "I reached Myles Toyne. They're holed up on one of the smaller islands and refuse to co out."
Rhaegar's eyes sharpened. He had a map that marked a hidden treasure island sowhere in the Stepstones. The Golden Company's sudden interest in one particular rock told him everything he needed to know—there was sothing valuable there.
"Strengthen contact with them. I want the Golden Company on our side before we finish the Stepstones."
"That won't be easy," Oberyn warned.
The Golden Company had no love for House Targaryen. Rhaegar had almost nothing to offer unless he planned to let them use him as a puppet to invade Westeros.
Rhaegar wasn't bothered. "Send word to Myles Toyne. Tell him I want to et—either he cos to or I go to him."
Oberyn smirked but said nothing.
Rhaegar didn't explain. He wasn't really interested in the Golden Company itself. He wanted the island they were guarding.
Just then a richly dressed Lysene man was brought forward.
"Most noble prince," the envoy said with an oily smile, "the archons of Lys send their regards. They heard you took Bloodstone and wish to know if you require assistance."
He looked around at the captured island and smiled wider. "If you accept, I am authorized to provide one thousand slaves and all necessary materials to fortify the island."
Everyone present understood the offer. Lys wanted Rhaegar to stay on the Stepstones as their guard dog against pirates and rival Free Cities.
Myles swore loudly. Richard actually drew his sword.
Rhaegar stopped them. "He's only the ssenger. Leave him be."
The envoy looked pale but stood his ground.
Rhaegar considered the offer for a mont, then shook his head. "Go back. Tell the archons I will develop Bloodstone myself. In ti I will visit Lys and discuss trade."
The envoy hesitated, then delivered Valarr's personal ssage. "Archon Valarr says that since you left Westeros, Lys is now your second ho. He promises to reach out to Slaver's Bay and Asshai and do everything in his power to find you a dragon egg—as a token of Lys's sincere friendship."
Rhaegar's indigo eyes lit up.
Everyone knew House Targaryen had dragons again.
But Rhaegar had none. Not even an egg.
Prince Doran had promised to search, but Martell power stopped at the borders of Dorne. Lys had far more reach.
"Dragons…" Rhaegar whispered, a hungry light in his eyes.
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