71. King Daeranyx

Daeranyx’s POV

I placed the incubator holding my family's dragon eggs in the hottest depths of the Skagos volcano, where the heat remains bearable enough for me to retrieve them when needed. The magical wards I’ve woven ensure that no prying eyes or unwelcome presence can disturb them. Satisfied with their protection, I turned and made my way toward Anarion’s cave.

It has been nearly a week since I taught Jon the art of forging superior steel. With the recent arrival of iron ore from Skane, the quality of weapons and armor has surpassed anything Westeros currently possesses. To ensure these weapons would be used to their full potential, I handpicked the most promising warriors from the men trained for 'The Shields' and have taken their instruction into my own hands.

I train them relentlessly, honing their skills so they may, in turn, train the next generation—and the one after that. Beyond combat, I have begun teaching them the intricacies of warfare and strategy, sharing the knowledge I gathered during my time in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. While not all grasp my lessons immediately, one stands out among them—Mark. He possesses a keen mind and natural talent, absorbing my teachings faster than his peers.

With their training progressing well, my thoughts turned to another matter: roads. Skagos remains treacherous to traverse, and with winter upon us, heavy snowfall would only make it worse. Lord Stane argued that building roads now would be futile, as they would be buried beneath layers of snow. I only smiled in response. And asked him if I could construct keeps in mere weeks—fortresses that would take years of labor for many men—surely, I could devise a solution for roads. His reply was a shake of his head for not taking magic into the equation. 

Thus, I laid the roads of Skagos with Valyrian black stone, slightly elevated above the land to prevent snow from piling too heavily. Deep drainage channels flank the roads, guiding melted snow to designated areas. To combat the winter’s fury, I inscribed fire and heat runes along the pathways, ensuring the snow melts steadily rather than all at once. The only minor inconvenience is the occasional unevenness when snowfall is heavy, but it is a small price to pay for roads that remain passable year-round.

As I arrived at Anarion’s cave, I found him idly playing with the bones of his last meal. At the sight of me, he stretched to his full height before unfurling his wings in preparation for flight. I stepped closer, and he lowered his great neck, allowing me to caress his scales.

“You’re healing well,” I murmured in High Valyrian, running a hand along the rough texture of his hide. “At this rate, you’ll be back to your full strength in no time.”

Anarion let out a huff of hot air in response. I chuckled, shaking my head. “Arrogant dragon,” I muttered just loud enough for him to hear. He let out a low snarl—or was it a snort?—before straightening into a regal stance, his pride on full display.

I only sighed, shaking my head in amusement, before securing myself atop his saddle. “Soves,” I commanded.

With a mighty roar, Anarion launched himself into the sky.


_____=______


*King's Landing*
*Daeranyx POV*

I look toward the bustling capital of the Seven Kingdoms, which is filled with more people than usual. The vendors display a variety of goods from all over the realm, and I think I might need to explore this place further once I've completed all the formalities. Ser Steffon Darklyn, sent here to escort me to the Red Keep, glances back to see if I want to purchase something. I shake my head and say, "I will make another visit here once I am settled. Now let’s increase the pace, shall we? I assume King Viserys is waiting." Ser Darklyn nods and quickens the pace of his white mare. I signal my horse to pick up speed as well, and we maneuver through the crowd to reach the gates of the Red Keep.

I dismount and hand the reins of my horse to a stable boy waiting nearby. Ser Steffon leads the way toward where Viserys is waiting for me, and I silently follow him, observing the many nobles around us who regard me with obvious curiosity and greed. I nod at a few lords who are noteworthy, such as Lord Baratheon and Lord Tully, who sit side by side chatting. I raise an eyebrow in curiosity at the sight of those two together, but in the end, I set that thought aside and quicken my pace to match Ser Steffon’s steady stride.

We take a turn toward the royal quarters, and after walking for a minute, we arrive at the door guarded by Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Erryk Cargyll. They turn to us as we approach, and after exchanging glances, Ser Harrold is about to knock on the steel doors. However, before he can do that, the doors swing open, revealing three people who share a resemblance, indicating their blood relation.

The man at the forefront, adorned with a brooch shaped like a hand proudly displayed on his chest, grimaces for just a moment before his mask of indifference returns. "Lord Drako—" "King, King Drakonar to you, Lord Otto," I correct him, maintaining the same mask of indifference on my face. The two younger men beside him, who look to be around my age, and another older man exchange worried glances, looking toward Otto, who is now staring at me with annoyance and frustration.

"Ah, forgive my slip of the tongue, King Daeranyx," Otto says, drawing out the last word in an attempt to insult me. "I almost forgot that you have your own territory since you seem to be enjoying your stay here in the capital, even after receiving that island. Skagos, if I remember correctly." His smile only makes him appear more unattractive.