Dragonstone, Guest Chambers.
"What... what did you say?" Baela was the first to react, rushing to Sara and looking down at her.
"Tamed the dragons? Which ones?"
"Silverwing," Sara said softly.
"I tamed Silverwing."
She turned to the brothers beside her.
"Valos tamed the 'Bronze Fury,' Vermithor."
"Mirax tamed Grey Ghost."
Robert Quince's breathing grew ragged.
Silverwing was a gentle silver she-dragon, nearly seventy meters long.
More importantly, her relationship with Vermithor was like that of a mated pair.
And Vermithor, the "Bronze Fury," was a titan, over one hundred and thirty meters long, second only to Vhagar.
Once the mount of the Old King Jaehaerys I, he was violent and had allowed no one near him for years.
Grey Ghost, by contrast, was a thirty-meter young dragon, notoriously shy and reclusive, avoiding humans at all costs.
If this were true...
"And Sheepstealer," Sara added.
"Impossible!" Rhaena blurted out.
"Sheepstealer is a wild dragon, like the Cannibal! Dragonkeepers have been killed trying even to approach him!"
Sara bit her lip and looked at the dark-haired girl beside her.
"Nettles, tell them yourself."
The girl named Nettles shuddered, keeping her head low. She spoke in a voice as thin as a mosquito's buzz.
"I was just a Dragonkeeper... I was responsible for feeding Sheepstealer. Every day, I brought him a sheep. At first, he'd snap and breathe fire, so I'd toss the sheep and run. Later, he stopped snapping, and I stood closer. Eventually, I could touch his scales."
She looked up timidly.
"Two years ago, I tried to climb up... he didn't throw me off."
"Two years ago?" Lucerys asked.
"I know the dragons belong to the Targaryens," Nettles said cautiously.
"I was just a lowly keeper. I never flew him, until Lord Jacaerys discovered... discovered my secret recently."
Robert stared at this girl who lacked any Valyrian features, then back at Sara.
"How did you dare?! Those dragons are the property of Princess Rhaenyra! Who gave you leave?"
"Lord Jacaerys gave us leave."
The silver-haired man on the floor looked up. All eyes turned to him.
"Before Lord Jacaerys left, he formed this guard," the man continued.
"He told us the Blacks needed more riders. He had us try to approach the riderless dragons in waves."
He paused. "Many died. Burned, bitten, fallen. But those who lived... succeeded."
The man glanced at Sara, Valos, and Mirax.
He suspected these three bastards had some specific trick to taming the dragons; Valos and Mirax had claimed Vermithor and Grey Ghost almost immediately after news of Jacaerys's death arrived.
They clearly had secrets.
Robert's face was flushed red. The old knight drew his sword, pointing it at Sara.
"This is transgression! This is theft! I should execute you all now for the crime of dragon-theft!"
Sara closed her eyes as tears fell.
"If you wish to execute us, we will not resist. We are loyal to Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Jacaerys. We swore an oath."
Valos and Mirax lowered their heads in submission, but behind them, the other bastards began to stir in fear.
The silver-haired man raised a hand. With that simple gesture, the unrest died instantly.
Lucerys lay on his bed, watching. Despite the waves of pain in his back, his mind was racing.
Jacaerys... my brother... he did this in secret.
A guard of riders loyal only to him? What was he planning?
But none of that mattered now. What mattered were the four dragons in front of him.
Lucerys took a deep breath, his face contorting as the movement pulled at his wounds.
"Ser Robert, put your sword away."
"Prince, these people are, "
"I know who they are," Lucerys interrupted.
"Bastards. Impure blood. By Targaryen law, they should die. But the Greens have killed my brothers and are coming for this island. If we execute them, four dragons remain riderless. When Aemond arrives on Vhagar, the Greens will take them and turn them against us. Better to let them fight for us."
Robert's hand shook, but he finally sheathed his blade.
"You," Lucerys looked at Sara.
"Which of you has the dragons?"
"I have Silverwing," Sara replied.
"Valos has Vermithor. Mirax has Grey Ghost. Nettles has Sheepstealer."
Lucerys's gaze fell on the dark-haired girl.
"You... Nettles? Who are your parents?"
"I... I don't know," Nettles whispered.
"I was found outside a fishing village in a basket of nettles. That's why they called me that. I was chosen to be a Dragonkeeper at eight."
Lucerys was silent. A girl with no parents and no Valyrian features had tamed a wild dragon that Targaryens couldn't handle.
The world had truly gone mad. He looked at the group again.
"You must know the Greens will not accept you. You know Aemond's opinion of bastards."
Sara looked up with firm eyes.
"We never thought of joining the Greens. He killed the father of my child. From the day Lord Jacaerys found us, we knew we could only survive, only be recognized, if the Blacks won."
"Recognized?" Lucerys laughed, his face twisting under the bandages.
"You want your child to be recognized as a Targaryen?"
Sara's hand tightened over her belly.
"Lord Jacaerys promised."
"Jacaerys is dead," Lucerys said cruelly.
"His head is on a wall. His promises are worth nothing."
Sara turned pale, but Lucerys didn't stop.
"But if you want to prove your worth, then fight for the Blacks. Avenge my brothers. If you do, I will plead with my mother myself. You won't get the Targaryen name, and the dragons will be returned when you die, but you will become a new branch of the family."
The room was silent. Sara bowed until her forehead touched the floor.
"We will fight. We swore an oath. Our swords, our dragons, and our lives belong to Queen Rhaenyra."
"Queen..." Lucerys whispered the word. Then he turned to Robert.
"Ser, if four dragons were lying in wait on Dragonstone to ambush Aemond... what are the odds?"
Robert's eyes flickered with a sudden, sharp calculation.
"Vermithor is one hundred and thirty meters. Smaller than Vhagar, yes, but in his prime. He can hold his own. Silverwing is seventy meters, Sheepstealer is the same, and Grey Ghost is thirty. Against Vhagar, Morghul, and Sunfyre? Four against three."
He looked up with hope.
"We have the numbers. The quality of our dragons is high. If the ambush is set correctly... we can win."
Lucerys's eyes flashed with a cold ruthlessness.
"Then it is decided. You four stay. Set a trap on Dragonstone. When the Greens come, kill them."
The four riders exchanged looks. Valos and Mirax looked excited, while Sara nodded through her tears.
Nettles kept her head down.
"We will prove our worth," Valos rumbled.
Lucerys looked back at the large silver-haired man.
"And you? Are you the leader of this guard?"
The man looked up. "They call me 'Hammer'. My name is Hugh. My father was Jaehaerys I..."
The Old King had ruled for fifty years; it wasn't impossible, given how the Right of First Night had existed back then.
Lucerys studied him; the silver hair, purple eyes, and massive frame were undeniably Targaryen.
"Will you fight for me?" Lucerys asked.
"Become my knight and escort us to Tyrosh?"
Hugh didn't hesitate. "I will. I will be your knight and protect you until my last breath."
"Good. Tonight, you take the guard and escort me, Rhaena, and Baela to Tyrosh. As for you four," Lucerys looked back at the riders, "win this battle. Prove your loyalty. If you win, you get your noble status. And Sara, if you kill Aemond and hold this island, I will personally ask my mother to let your child bear the name Targaryen."
Sara nodded vigorously, her tears flowing again.
"That is enough... that is all I ask."
Lucerys looked at Robert one last time.
"Ser, I leave Dragonstone, and them, to you."
Robert straightened his back.
"As long as I draw breath, the island will not fall."
"And if you die?"
"Then I'll take a few Greens down to the Seven Hells with me."
Lucerys offered a tragic smile from beneath his bandages.
"Good luck, Ser."
"And to you, Prince. Tell the Queen... I am hers until the end."
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