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Essos, Braavos
10th Moon of 58 AC
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The morning air brought the salty scent of the Narrow Sea as Caspian crossed the entrance of the House of Black and White. The silence of the Faceless Men's temple still echoed in his ears, but as soon as he set foot on the damp flagstones outside, a deep, distant roar cut through the city's sky.
Caspian stopped dead in his tracks at the edge of the dock. He looked up toward the low clouds that were beginning to clear beneath the rising sun.
Two shadows cut through the sky of Braavos. One of them, a majestic metallic bronze, mastered the air currents with an imposing flight, and beside it, a sleeker, brilliant silver figure danced in the firmament, reflecting the light like a mirror.
A cold, almost imperceptible smile formed on Caspian's lips. He needed no one to explain the meaning of that sight to him. The only people in the known world who rode creatures of that bloodline besides his family were the members of the Targaryen dynasty—the sovereigns of the Iron Throne from across the sea.
"So the king has left his ugly throne to look for the lost sheep," Caspian whispered to himself.
Without moving his arms from his sides, Caspian tilted his head slightly toward the gloom behind him. The shadow beneath the eaves seemed to ripple for a second, revealing the invisible presence of one of the witches who constantly guarded his steps from the realm of the unseen.
"Find Valka and Aerea," Caspian ordered in a low but clear voice. "Tell them to return to the mansion immediately. I will join them shortly."
A faint rustle, like silk rubbing against dry leaves, was the only answer before the shadow stabilized once more.
Caspian set off at a steady pace across the city's bridges, walking the streets without haste but with determination. The presence of two more dragons soaring over the canals had sown confusion among the people, but for the King of Xandar, Jaehaerys's arrival was nothing more than the inevitable move of something that should have been dealt with long ago.
In the private mansion that the Sealord had placed at the disposal of Xandar's delegation—a pale stone palace surrounded by walled gardens and private ponds—the atmosphere was thick with palpable tension.
Valka stood in the main hall beside a large arched window, observing the sky with a serene gaze. Aerea had entered only a few minutes earlier, accompanied by the four bloodriders who had not left her side. The young princess paced back and forth with clenched fists, her face somewhat pale.
The hall's double doors swung open smoothly, and Caspian entered the room. His dark tunic and relaxed posture stood in stark contrast to the Khaleesi's agitation. Aerea turned to face him as soon as she saw him cross the threshold.
"My uncle and aunt have arrived in Braavos," Aerea said plainly, her voice trembling with a surge of conflicting emotions. "I saw Vermithor and Silverwing over the canal. They have crossed the sea, Caspian. They have come all the way here."
Caspian walked over to a low table, took a goblet of cool water, and drank it slowly before looking her in the eyes. "I know, Aerea," Caspian replied with complete serenity. "I saw them break through the clouds as I was leaving the temple."
"They have come for me," the young woman insisted, taking a step toward him, searching her husband's eyes for any spark of unease. "Jaehaerys would not leave the Red Keep or cross the Narrow Sea just for a visit. He wants to take me back to Westeros."
Caspian stepped closer to her, resting a firm hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm, and the steadiness of his fiery eyes acted as an anchor in the middle of the princess's storm.
"Listen to me carefully, my Khaleesi," he said in a calm, authoritative tone. "It is very possible that the main reason for his trip is you. But you have absolutely nothing to fear—you are a Xandarian, you are my wife, and you are the rider of the Black Dread. Jaehaerys may be the sovereign of the Seven Kingdoms, but he is no fool. He will not attempt any provocative or violent action inside Braavos."
Valka tilted her head from the window, a cold smile forming on her face.
"Your uncle knows perfectly well where he stands, Aerea," the queen chimed in, resting her hands on the velvet of her dress. "And should he have the audacity to try to take you by force, he would have to worry about receiving a visit from the Endermen in his own bedchamber before night falls again."
Aerea let out a long sigh, feeling the tension in her shoulders yield slightly. She looked at Caspian and then at Valka, recognizing the unbreakable wall both formed against anyone who dared threaten her.
"What are you going to do when he shows up here?" Aerea asked.
"I will receive him as a king who has traveled far to talk should be received," Caspian answered with a faint smile. "I will hear what he has to say. After all, he is the head of your family... and the ruler of the continent we will one day set foot upon."
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Palace of the Sealord
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Meanwhile, in the yards and gardens of Braavos's main palace, the environment was drastically different.
The massive wings of Vermithor and Silverwing had touched down upon the great stone terrace reserved for city ceremonies. The impact of the dragons' claws on the cobblestones had shaken nearby structures, stirring an ancestral mistrust in the hearts of the Braavosi.
Braavos had been founded in secrecy by runaway slaves who fled the bloody yoke of the Valyrian Freehold. The mere sight of dragons—the very beasts their ancestors had used to chain, burn, and massacre millions—aroused a visceral rejection among the people of the Free City.
The Sealord waited at the foot of the staircase alongside his guard of honor. His face was a mask of stone. Although indignance burned inside him at seeing his lagoon turned into a nest for four fire-breathing creatures in less than twelve hours, political prudence dictated his actions. Furthermore, relations between the city and the Iron Throne had been strained for years, especially following the scandal of the three failed weddings, the loans from the Iron Bank, and the theft of the three dragon eggs by Elyssa Farman decades ago—eggs that had ended up in the city's vaults, though those very eggs had been stolen from the vaults moons ago.
Nevertheless, he represented the dignity of Braavos and could not afford a diplomatic incident with the King of Westeros.
Jaehaerys I Targaryen dismounted from Vermithor's back with swift, regal movements. He wore a dark cloth traveling tunic with the three-headed dragon embroidered in silver thread across his chest. Beside him, Queen Alysanne dismounted from Silverwing with equal elegance, adjusting her green wool cloak against the salty wind.
The Sealord stepped forward and gave a precise, distant, yet impeccably polite bow.
"Welcome to the halls of Braavos, King Jaehaerys," the city's ruler began, measuring every word. "The traditions of our great city demand that we receive with decorum all who cross our waters, though I must admit your method of transportation continues to awaken bitter memories in the minds of our people."
Jaehaerys answered with an equal bow of courtesy, acknowledging the historical weight behind the bite in the Braavosi's words.
"I thank you for your welcome, Sealord," Jaehaerys said in a clear, deep voice. "I understand completely the misgivings that the presence of our mounts may cause in a city founded on freedom. I assure you we have not crossed the Narrow Sea with hostile intentions, nor to disrupt the peace of your people."
Alysanne took a step forward, offering a warm smile to soften the cold atmosphere.
"Our intentions are strictly family matters, Sealord," the queen added. "We appreciate the respect with which we are received."
Jaehaerys, however, could not conceal the urgency stirring in his chest. Despite maintaining his royal composure, the haste in his violet eyes was unmistakable.
"Sealord," the King of Westeros continued, getting straight to the point. "I have traveled without rest from King's Landing to meet the ruler of Xandar. I need to know immediately where King Caspian is located."
The Sealord raised an eyebrow with subtle surprise at the Westerosi monarch's rushed tone, but kept his composure.
"King Caspian is residing at the private mansion assigned to him by the city for his stay," the Sealord replied. "If it is your wish to meet with him without delay, I can place an escort from my personal guard at your disposal to guide you to his doors."
"I would be infinitely grateful," Jaehaerys replied at once. "I wish to depart for there this very instant."
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Xandar's Mansion
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In the gardens of Caspian and his people's mansion, the afternoon breeze blew gently among the cypresses and marble fountains.
Caspian was walking along the arched corridor that overlooked the main courtyard when a faint vibration in the air signaled the presence of one of the witches. The figure materialized a few paces from him like a flash of light dissolving into the shadow of the pillars.
"The King of Westeros has left the Sealord's palace," the witch whispered in her ethereal voice. "He is advancing toward this place on a city guard barge, accompanied by the queen. He will reach the gates in a matter of minutes."
Caspian showed not the slightest surprise. He merely nodded his head slightly.
"Thank you," he said calmly. He turned toward the palace servants waiting in the foyer and gave a series of quiet instructions.
"Set up an outdoor table right in the center of the main courtyard, under the shade of the olive trees," Caspian directed. "Bring several pitchers of the best wine we have and prepare light refreshments. I want our guest to find a peaceful atmosphere when he walks through that door."
The servants hurried to fulfill the orders. Within minutes, a large walnut table was set up in the middle of the garden. Silver pitchers gleamed under the sun, and the aroma of fresh food filled the crisp afternoon air.
Caspian seated himself in one of the carved leather armchairs at the head of the table, pouring himself a goblet of wine. Valka took her place to his right, maintaining her majestic posture, while Aerea sat to his left. Although the young princess tried to hide her nervousness, the stiffness in her hands betrayed the impact of the moment.
The seven bloodriders positioned themselves at the corners of the courtyard like dark iron statues, hands resting loosely on the hilts of their arakhs. The sharp clatter of the mansion's main gates swinging open echoed throughout the compound.
An officer of the Braavosi guard announced their arrival in a loud voice, stepping back immediately to make way for the newcomers.
Jaehaerys Targaryen and Queen Alysanne crossed the threshold into the garden.
The King of Westeros walked forward with a firm stride, inspecting every corner of the courtyard with an austere gaze. Upon seeing the table set outdoors and the relaxed figure of the young man sitting at the head, Jaehaerys paused for a moment. Caspian's presence, with his muted fiery hair and ember-like eyes, emanated a natural authority that required neither crowns nor displays of power.
Alysanne, for her part, immediately locked her eyes on Aerea. A flash of relief and emotion swept across the queen's face upon seeing her niece healthy and strong. Caspian did not stand, but offered a welcoming gesture with his hand, indicating the empty chairs across from him.
"Welcome to our table, King Jaehaerys," Caspian said in a calm, hospitable voice whose human, approachable tone broke the heaviness in the air. "The journey from King's Landing to Braavos must have been long and tiring. Take a seat, taste the wine, and rest. There is much to discuss between both sides."
Jaehaerys looked Caspian dead in the eyes, gauging the composure of the man who had turned Essos into his own realm, before advancing toward the table to take the offered seat.