"Why would the Crown Prince of Westeros personally attend the negotiations?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.
I offered a knowing smile. "Because, little sister, we practically demanded it. Not in those exact words, of course, but Father's missive explicitly required a royal envoy with unquestionable authority to negotiate on the Iron Throne's behalf. Since Jaehaerys and Alysanne are entirely too frail to endure a flight across the Narrow Sea, it leaves only the Spring Prince. The remaining family is either unsuitable or lack the martial standing to parley with us."
"Father..." Lily began, her voice suddenly laced with trepidation. "I fancy Daemon. I hope you will be lenient with him during these talks."
Father's demeanour cooled instantly. "Liliana. Who are you sworn to serve first and foremost? The people of Rome, or a foreign boy you have taken a passing liking to over the course of a single moon?"
Lily seemed to shrink slightly at the use of her full name.
"Answer me, daughter," Father pressed, his tone demanding iron. "This meekness will not serve you well in the years to come."
"The realm," she answered quietly, though the internal conflict was plainly visible in her green eyes.
"Good. Ensure you do not forget it. Now, as for the Targaryen," Father said, softening slightly. "I only require a measure of blood from Daemon, Baelon, and their dragon to run some esoteric experiments. Blood freely given houses immense power, Lily, which will prove highly useful to our cause. As for the rest of the geopolitical negotiations, I leave the terms entirely to Octavian's discretion. If you must beg for mercy for your Valyrian, it is not I you need look toward." His parting words more teasing than stern.
With a sharp CRACK, Father Disapparated from the antechamber, leaving the three of us alone.
Lily swiftly closed the distance between us, practically tiptoeing to my side.
"Brother," she chimed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
I looked down at her, offering a deeply facetious smile of my own. "Sister."
"Would you do me a tremendous favour, please?"
"No."
Her face scrunched up in profound irritation. "But why? Rome has maintained a long-standing peace with Westeros. Why destroy all of that over Daemon's reckless excursion? Yes, he killed our legionaries, but is that not the harsh reality of war? Men die for causes greater than themselves, and our Empire is currently reaping the rewards of Qohor, is it not?"
"You are correct on a geopolitical level, Lily, but our people demand justice for the blood spilt by his beast," I countered smoothly. "If you truly wish to keep the Valyrian around, then it is of the utmost importance you understand a fundamental rule of governance: It is not enough for justice to merely be done. The people must see the justice being done."
At my carefully chosen words, a spark of cunning understanding finally lit her eyes.
"You mean to—"
"Exactly," I interrupted, raising a hand before she could voice the treasonous plot aloud. "Keep it entirely to yourself."
She let out a delighted squeak, throwing her arms around my neck and enthusiastically thanking me. A few paces away, Hermione watched the exchange with deeply furrowed brows.
"What do you mean, brother?" the youngest sibling asked.
It was my turn to deploy a wicked smirk. "Nothing you need be concerned about, Mione. Go back to reading your heavy tomes and practising your spatial magic. High Imperial politics are clearly a bit too complex for you."
I could immediately see the barb hit its mark. She let out a frustrated huff, stomped her boot against the black stone, and with a deafening CRACK, Disapparated from the room.
I looked at Lily as we both smiled. "Come there is much to be done at court today and the Targaryens are the least of it."
Lily looked at me confused. I sighed "The envoys from the free cities will be arriving in a few days along with them will come their longwinded tradition of false posturing."
"Have we made plans to satiate their hypocrisy?" Lily asked.
"That is why the negotiations with Targaryens is necessary. Once we have them in our corner the free cities will be made pliable" I said with confidence.
Lily grasped my arm before both of us disapparated from the chambers.
…
Baelon Targaryen
The guttural roar that tore from Vhagar's throat shook the very air, vibrating through the heavy iron chains I gripped so tightly. But it did not end in a challenge. As we drew closer to the blinding, crackling dome of the Imperial Palace, her roar hitched, devolving into a low, rumbling whine of pure trepidation.
I leaned forward, trying to soothe the great beast, but her agitation was palpable beneath the saddle. She circled high above the immaculate, concentric walls of the capital, her massive shadow plunging entire districts into momentary darkness.
Looking down at the sprawling marble streets, I observed a deeply chaotic scene. Many of the citizens were fleeing in outright panic at the sight of the largest dragon in the world circling their homes. Yet, thousands more were simply dropping to their knees in the middle of the wide avenues, completely ignoring the bronze behemoth above them. They clasped their hands tightly, bowing in fervent prayer directly toward the pulsing, golden light of the Imperial Palace.
Suddenly, the ethereal glow above the dome began to die out, the violent green lightning fading into the stonework.
A massive, heavy banner unfurled atop the outermost walls of the palace complex—a stark black field bearing the Imperial standard of Rome. At the same moment, I spotted movement in the expansive courtyard below. Hundreds of soldiers clad in dark armour moved with steady precision, swiftly forming two long, parallel lines that created a clear, wide path pointing directly toward the palace gates.
"They are guiding us down," Vaegon shouted over the wind, his voice strained. "Do as they instruct, Baelon! We cannot afford to let this mass panic escalate, lest they perceive it as a hostile act."
"Agreed," I called back, banking Vhagar sharply.
I was genuinely surprised by the discipline of the soldiers below. Most men broke ranks at the mere shadow of a dragon, but these legionaries stood entirely motionless as we descended.