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The morning mist over the Stepstones had not yet fully lifted when a frantic bell toll rang out from the red rocks of Bloodstone.
It was the warning bell Corlys had set up. The rope was tied to the highest gibbet on Bloodstone, manned in shifts by Velaryon sailors. Three short rings followed by one long—the signal for "Enemy Fleet Incoming."
Hearing the bell, Daemon bolted upright in his cabin on the Blackfyre, his hand instinctively grasping the hilt of his sword.
The deck was already a hive of activity. Rayford Rosby was directing sailors to reinforce the dragonglass plating on the hull. Even Myles Rivers stood at the gunwale with Jarman Waters, his massive Northern battle-axe on his shoulder, frowning as he stared at the eastern sea.
Through the fog came the faint crash of sails snapping in the wind, mixed with the distinctive thwip-thwip of Myrish repeating crossbows.
"It must be the Triarchy's main force!" Corlys's voice drifted over from the Sea Snake. Standing in the crow's nest with his brass spyglass, he could see a dense forest of masts. "At least fifty ships! Myrish fast galleys, Lyseni silk-sailed warships, and Tyroshi iron-clad patrols... The flagship in the lead is flying the 'Crab's Claw' banner. It's Craghas Drahar, for sure!"
"The Crabfeeder?" Daemon's heart sank.
The intelligence reports were clear. This Myrish prince, the Triarchy's High Admiral, had earned his nickname three years ago when he led the newly formed Triarchy fleet to sweep the Stepstones. He had staked hundreds of pirates to the beaches at low tide, letting the rising water and crabs devour them alive.
In the original history, he wasn't supposed to die by Daemon Targaryen's Dark Sister until 108 AC. But now, nine years early, he was here. Clearly, the Triarchy had been pushed to the brink and played their ace.
Daemon Targaryen landed Caraxes on the Blackfyre's deck. The Blood Wyrm's claws made the dragonglass plating vibrate.
"The Crabfeeder? That bastard who feeds people to crabs?" He grinned, though his usual roguishness was gone. Dark Sister slid from its sheath, the Valyrian steel gleaming cold. "Perfect. I'll roast his crabs with Caraxes's fire and show him who really owns the Narrow Sea."
Baelon launched Vhagar into the sky. The massive green dragon spread her wings, eclipsing half the morning sun.
"Left Wing, follow me!" His voice carried undeniable authority. Vhagar unleashed a stream of green fire in front of the United Fleet, boiling the sea into a wall of steam and sulfur—a natural screen. "Little Daemon, take The Cannibal and Grey Ghost to deal with Craghas's flagship. Big Daemon, Caraxes intercepts the Lyseni silk-sails—don't let their poison arrows touch our men!"
"On it!" The two Daemons answered in unison. One voice steady, the other sharp, but both resolute.
Daemon dove on The Cannibal. The black dragon's wings skimmed the water, kicking up spray that splashed onto the deck, mixing with sparks of dragonfire to form sulfur-scented beads on the dragonglass.
Grey Ghost followed close behind. The small grey dragon nimbly darted ahead of The Cannibal, spitting small bursts of fire to test the fog for enemy ships.
Soon, Craghas's flagship loomed out of the mist. It was an iron-clad behemoth, wider even than the Sea Snake. The hull was sheathed in black iron, and the deck bristled with over twenty Myrish repeating crossbows and eight massive scorpions. The bolts in the grooves glowed with a dark purple sheen—the "Strangler" poison mentioned in the reports.
The "Crab's Claw" banner on the mast snapped in the wind, stained with dark red splotches—whether blood or seawater, it was impossible to tell.
"Daemon Blackfyre!" Craghas's voice boomed from the flagship. He stood atop the forecastle, clad in black iron armor crafted by Myrish artisans, engraved with crab claw motifs. In his hand was a scimitar set with black gemstones. "I hear you and your namesake cousin ruined my ambush at Echo Bay and burned the piers at Grey Gallows? Today, I will feed you and your dragons to the crabs of the Narrow Sea!"
Daemon sneered, leveling Blackfyre at him. "A mere crab feeder dares speak of the Narrow Sea? Two years ago, you cleared the pirates only to collect the tolls yourself. Now you bring a fleet because you're afraid we'll cut off your coin?"
He deliberately brought up Craghas's greed, revealed in the intel. Sure enough, the Myrish prince's face darkened.
Craghas waved his hand. The Myrish repeating crossbows fired in unison. Poison bolts rained down on The Cannibal like a storm.
Daemon immediately pulled the black dragon upward. The three-headed dragon brand on his shoulder burned hot. A torrent of black fire poured down, incinerating most of the bolts in mid-air. The remaining shafts, charred by the flames, struck The Cannibal's scales with a hiss, leaving scorch marks but failing to penetrate—for some reason, The Cannibal's scales seemed harder than those of ordinary dragons.
"Grey Ghost, burn their winches!" Daemon ordered.
The grey dragon dove, his breath igniting the wooden winches of the crossbows. Myrish artisans screamed and fled, their olive skin pale in the firelight. Most were slaves, shackles still on their wrists, clearly forced into service by Craghas.
Seeing this, Craghas roared in fury. He raised his scimitar and ordered his flagship to ram the Blackfyre. "Ram them! Sink them! Show these bastards from across the sea that the Triarchy's iron ships aren't made of paper!"
The sailors on the Blackfyre scrambled to adjust the rudder. Rayford shouted for everyone to brace, while Rupert Crabb led the Crackclaw lads to the rail with their shields, ready to repel boarders.
But just then, Corlys's Sea Snake surged out of the fog from the flank. The silver ship's oak ram slammed into the stern of Craghas's flagship. The iron vessel shuddered violently, and Craghas stumbled, nearly falling from the forecastle.
"Crabfeeder, your opponent is me!" Corlys shouted from the prow of the Sea Snake, brandishing a cutlass inlaid with mother-of-pearl. "Two years ago, you seized my merchant ships and demanded triple the ransom and 'toll.' Today, I take it back with interest!"
Craghas regained his balance, sneering. " The Sea Snake? You think one silver ship can beat me? The Triarchy fleet will send you and your House Velaryon to the bottom of the sea together!"
He signaled, and three Lyseni silk-sailed warships flanked from both sides. Archers on their decks loosed arrows dipped in "The Strangler," aiming for the Sea Snake's crow's nest.
"Caraxes, burn those silk sails!" Daemon Targaryen's voice rang out.
Scarlet fire erupted from the mist, instantly igniting the silk sails of the Lyseni ships. Losing power, they spun helplessly in the waves.
Daemon Targaryen landed Caraxes on one of the decks. Dark Sister flashed. Two Lyseni noble archers fell, the perfume in their platinum-blonde curls replaced by the stench of burning flesh and blood.
"Big Daemon! Don't get bogged down!" Daemon shouted. "Craghas's flagship has Myrish repeaters—we have to destroy them first!"
Daemon Targaryen understood. He flew Caraxes at the flagship. Scarlet fire washed over the iron-plated forecastle. The black iron glowed red-hot. Craghas's men jumped into the sea, only to be fished out by Velaryon sailors with nets.
Corlys had been specific in the war council: do not kill indiscriminately. These captives might know the Triarchy's next move.
Daemon dove on The Cannibal. Blackfyre drawn, the dark blade gleamed cold in the morning light. He leaped down, his sword splitting the deck of the flagship, sending wood and iron splinters flying.
Craghas charged with his scimitar, the black gems on the blade glinting eerily in the firelight. His style was tricky, typically Myrish, every strike aiming for a vital point. He was a veteran.
He's tougher than the reports said, Daemon thought, daring not to lose focus.
His own swordsmanship carried the ruthlessness of his past life, every strike delivered with the resolve of a man with nothing to lose. Blackfyre clashed with the scimitar, sparks flying, the impact numbing both their arms.
"And you're tougher than the reports said, Targaryen brat!" Craghas spat back viciously.
The Myrish prince was skilled. Taking advantage of Daemon's still-growing body, he used agile, cunning, underhanded tactics to wear down the young prince's stamina.
Even with the dragon brand's strength, after nearly a hundred exchanges, Daemon's arms were sliced by the wind of the blade. Blood dripped down the hilt of Blackfyre onto the deck.
Seeing this, Craghas sneered. "So much for the blood of the dragon! Today I'll stake you to the beach of Bloodstone and let the crabs pick your bones clean. Everyone will see the price of defying the Triarchy!"
Daemon said nothing. He only gripped Blackfyre tighter, his gaze sharpening.
He thought of Gael's words at the docks. Of the expectation in her violet eyes. Of the charm tucked in his tunic, embroidered with Blackfyre and The Cannibal.
I cannot lose. I cannot die here. I must return alive to fulfill the promise of our wedding.
And I am the Black Dragon, undefeated. In this life, I have not only Blackfyre, but a black dragon just like me!
Above, The Cannibal let out a low growl. A jet of black fire shot down, aimed at Craghas's back.
Craghas scrambled to dodge. Daemon seized the opening. Blackfyre thrust into his shoulder, the dark blade piercing the black iron armor. Blood splattered the deck.
Daemon slowly withdrew the blade, wiping it calmly on his cloak. "I despise outside interference in a duel," he said coldly. "But since you enjoy underhanded tricks so much, I don't mind letting you experience them too!"
"Argh!" Craghas screamed, turning to run.
But Grey Ghost blocked his path. The small grey dragon, though slight, was nimble. He darted to Craghas's feet and breathed fire onto his boots. The leather instantly charred and shrank.
Daemon stepped forward, Blackfyre pressing against Craghas's throat.
"Crabfeeder. Didn't you want to feed me to the crabs? Now, it's your turn."
Craghas's face was pale, but he remained defiant. "I am the High Admiral of the Triarchy! If you kill me, Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh will not let you rest! They will send more fleets and turn the Stepstones into your grave!"
"Let them come," Daemon said, his voice as cold as the Narrow Sea. "From this day forth, the Stepstones are no longer your pirate den, nor your toll booth. The dragonfire of House Targaryen will guard this sea and the safety of all Westerosi."
Just as Daemon was about to order Craghas to be staked to the beach to taste his own torture, a frantic bell rang out from the west.
It was the warning bell from Grey Gallows. Four short rings, one long. Enemy Reinforcements.
Corlys's voice shouted: "It's the Tyroshi fleet! At least thirty ships, carrying sellswords from the Disputed Lands!"
Daemon frowned, looking at Craghas. The Crabfeeder smirked triumphantly. "See? This is just the beginning! The Triarchy's reinforcements will never stop coming. You will be defeated eventually!"
Daemon ignored him, turning to shout at Baelon. "Uncle Baelon! The Tyroshi fleet is here! We have to pull back!"
Baelon rose on Vhagar again. The green dragon circled the fleet. After a quick assessment, he gave the order. "Retreat! Fall back to Bloodstone to regroup! We counterattack when our reinforcements arrive!"
The sailors of the United Fleet immediately adjusted their headings, retreating toward Bloodstone.
Daemon ordered Craghas thrown into the brig of the Blackfyre. He leaned on his sword, panting, the dragon on the hilt gleaming cold in the morning light.
Watching the Tyroshi fleet approaching from the west, he knew the war for the Stepstones had truly just begun.
Craghas was only the first line of defense. Behind him were Lyseni poisons, Myrish crossbows, Tyroshi mercenaries... perhaps even support from Dorne.
But he was not afraid.
He had The Cannibal and Grey Ghost. He had Daemon Targaryen and Caraxes. He had Baelon and Vhagar. He had Corlys and the silver ships. And he had the sailors and soldiers willing to follow him to guard the Narrow Sea.
Most importantly, in this life, a century before his time, he had a tether.
Gael was waiting for him in King's Landing. Waiting for him to return and fulfill the promise of their Valyrian wedding.
The red rocks of Bloodstone drew closer in the mist as the sails of the United Fleet vanished into the waves.
Behind them, Craghas's flagship still burned. The bright banners of the Tyroshi fleet snapped in the wind, heralding a greater storm about to break over the waters of the Stepstones.