Oberyn left.
The two men parted on decent terms, keeping things civil.
Daeron handed over Summerhall plus an extra two hundred thousand gold dragons.
In Oberyn's eyes, Summerhall could stay with his sister Elia, and the gold was plenty for Rhaegar to hire a fresh batch of sellswords.
He hadn't dragged the Iron Throne into open war, but he walked away with both the substance and the face.
"Attacking the Stepstones?"
Daeron stayed where he was, turning the idea over.
Objectively, the Iron Throne wasn't in any shape to march.
The four-kingdom rebellion had barely ended. The Stormlands, Vale, and Riverlands were still bleeding and needed time to breathe.
Especially the merger of the three kingdoms—that needed nobles and smallfolk alike to accept it first.
Daeron couldn't take the throne and immediately hand them fire and war instead of peace and plenty.
"The Stepstones matter. If Rhaegar can pin down the Triarchy, that's actually useful."
Daeron flipped the problem around and suddenly saw it clear.
The Stepstones weren't just gem veins. They were the bridge between east and west.
Whoever held them held the initiative.
Rhaegar tying up the Triarchy with nothing but his own name bought the Iron Throne breathing room—especially time for the five-year plan.
"During the Dance, Daemon Targaryen and the Sea Snake attacked the Stepstones and fought for seven or eight years. Viserys I barely lifted a finger, just shipped grain and gold when he felt like it."
Daeron smiled faintly. "Eldest son and second son… now it's the second son and the eldest. Rhaegar and the Martells hit the Stepstones while I send a little logistics when needed."
History really did love repeating itself.
---
Noon. 12:00.
Council Hall.
"My lord, please."
A white knight ushered Varys inside. The eunuch moved like a man walking to his own execution.
Daeron sat waiting.
"Prince. Your orders?"
Varys bowed low, all humility.
Daeron studied him without speaking.
Varys. Not quite a traitor. Not quite loyal. Just… slippery. And right now very nervous.
The man had been avoiding him since the coup. Not like before, when he used to hover and play the wise old spider.
Daeron understood why.
Varys had known the coup was coming and tried to prepare the Red Keep. Then the Kingsguard flipped sides first. After that he'd hidden in a Flea Bottom brothel, terrified Daeron would have him killed for knowing too much.
The Gold Cloaks dragged him out anyway.
"Lord Varys. Why so tense?"
Daeron asked it like he already knew the answer.
Varys recovered fast. "Am I? I thought the prince summoned me suddenly. Caught me off guard."
"Relax. I'm not here to punish you today."
Daeron gestured to a chair. "I'm Prince of Dragonstone now. The three-kingdom merger is public. Some lords cheer. Some drink. Some curse my name in private. Before the Great Council I asked you to read the room. Time to report."
Varys hovered by the seat. "What kind of report do you want? The news is… messy."
Daeron's voice stayed calm. "The good and the bad."
Varys's face tightened.
Daeron waited.
From the way Rhaegar was already calling in old allies, plenty of nobles still believed in eldest-son inheritance and weren't thrilled with Daeron.
The Great Council had shown him the open opponents and the quiet neutrals.
Changing the heir was one thing.
Merging three kingdoms was something else entirely. That was going to create real enemies.
Lady Olenna's first reaction had made it obvious—nobles hated watching the Crown grow stronger.
Even with compensation on the table, not everyone would smile and take it.
The number of noble sons joining the Constabulary Knights already told the story.
Some would oppose openly.
Daeron needed names. He would crush the conspiracy while it was still small and make an example.
One hard punch now saves a hundred later.
He wasn't going to be another Aegon V, spending his whole reign putting out fires.
Varys finally asked, "Prince… if there are private critics, how will you handle them?"
Leniency or dragonfire?
Daeron met his eyes. "That's my problem, my lord. Your problem is answering the question I asked."
Varys swallowed. "My little birds say several lords with real strength have been meeting quietly. They're not happy."
"Names."
Varys listed them. "Caswell. Peck. Fossoway. Florent—"
---
Reach – Bitterbridge
In the lord's solar, half a dozen Reach lords sat around a table.
Baron Osgood Caswell hosted. The others were Earl Mathis Rowan, Earl Tytos Peck, Earl Alester Florent, Earl Delic Fossoway, and Earl Aleric Merryweather.
Earl Mathis sipped green tea and watched the room.
"Three kingdoms merged… and we're still supposed to call it the Seven Kingdoms?"
Earl Peck's tone dripped sarcasm.
Earl Fossoway snorted. "Lose the Riverlands and Stormlands, gain the Crownlands and the Dornish Marches. Still seven, technically."
"Fuck the Dornish Marches!"
Peck slammed his fist down. "Randyll Tarly is a lunatic. Says he's 'integrating' the Marches. My house has older blood, three castles once, more land and coin than half the Marcher lords. What gives Tarly the right to piss on us from above?"
Earl Merryweather of Greenvale nodded grimly. His castle sat right on the edge of the new border. Randyll had been making life difficult.
The talk grew hotter, sliding into dangerous territory.
Baron Caswell muttered, "Stonehelm got sacked. Prince Daeron executed Lord Bodley but let the real guilty party walk. No justice there."
"If Prince Rhaegar had judged the case, Bodley would still be alive."
Earl Fossoway, young and reckless, jumped in. "Targaryens are a pack of white-haired incest freaks. We followed the Tyrells to war for the Iron Throne and lost land for it. They're outsiders who burn our fields and treat us like cattle. And that 'Dragon Prince' Daeron? Fourteen years old, still wet behind the ears, already fucking his own sister. Another monster in the making. Hope he wastes his seed on whores instead of making more freaks."
The room went dead silent.
Earl Mathis's hand shook so hard the tea sloshed. He was sweating through his doublet.
Earl Florent, the oldest, started to agree, then saw Mathis's face and changed tack. "Prince Daeron is… forceful. Even the original Bold Daeron and Young Dragon Daeron never treated the Reach this way."
Heads nodded.
House Tyrell had been raised up by Aegon the Conqueror. The Reach had always been favored. Even Young Dragon Daeron had made a Tyrell Governor of Dorne during his short conquest.
The mood shifted.
Earl Peck leaned in. "Word is King Aerys only called the Great Council because Prince Daeron forced him. There was a coup inside the Red Keep."
Baron Caswell nodded eagerly. "I heard the same."
"So the second son stages a coup, seizes the king, calls a council, and deposes the rightful heir?"
Earl Fossoway's eyes lit up.
Earl Mathis stood abruptly. "Excuse me. The study is too warm. I need air."
He fled.
Earl Florent followed at once. "Lord Mathis—wait! That thunder destrier of yours has a fine coat. Send your mare to Brightwater Keep and we'll breed them—"
The two disappeared.
The remaining four lords stared at each other.
Earl Fossoway spat on the floor. "Cowards."
---
King's Landing
Daeron rose and pushed Varys back into the chair.
"Prince, there may be mistakes. I can't swear every detail is exact."
Daeron paced slowly. "Doesn't matter. I have the names I need."
House Caswell of Bitterbridge and House Fossoway of Fruitwine Hall were the ringleaders. Earl Mathis Rowan had dipped his toe in too.
Varys kept his voice low. "Some of it is just wounded pride, Prince. Lords Caswell and Peck feel the new borders are unfair. A private audience might settle them."
"No need."
Daeron's grip tightened on Varys's shoulder.
The Reach had feasted on the spoils of war. Every house had grown fat. Now they wanted to complain?
Perfect. He needed examples.
He had planned to create a Warden of the Rose Road after the merger anyway. Bitterbridge and Fruitwine Hall sat in exactly the right spots.
And House Peck—openly defiant at the Great Council and secretly plotting afterward.
"Rebellious blood runs true in that family."
Daeron already knew what to do.
After the last Peake rebellion, Bloodraven had been too gentle. The family kept its head and most of its lands. They learned nothing.
Daeron would not repeat the mistake.
He looked out the window at the three dragons circling above the Dragonpit.
"I'll be waiting. Let House Peck come. They'll make an excellent first example."
The house that once boasted three castles now had only Starfall left.
Plenty for a younger brother's seat.
Varys shivered despite the heat.