The Tessarion was a jewel of the sky—a lithe, beautiful cobalt female dragon whose scales shimmered like sea glass. But as she tore through the clouds, her beauty was the last thing the pirates of the Narrow Sea noticed.
"Dragon! Break ranks! Run!"
"It's Prince Daeron! The Blue Queen is here! Shore up the line!"
The cheers of the Westerosi knights rose in a deafening wave, matched only by the screams of the pirates. Without scorpions or heavy bolts, the pirate longships were nothing more than kindling.
"Dracarys!" Daeron shouted, his chubby face set in a mask of royal fury.
Tessarion's cobalt-blue flames didn't just burn; they shredded. A pirate ship was sliced in half by the liquid fire. Those lucky enough to avoid the initial blast leaped into the sea, only to be dragged into the lightless depths by the dark shadows circling the fleet.
Daeron banked sharply, climbing back into the sun. He had begged Aegon for a "patrol" mission, desperate to prove he was more than a younger brother. Stumbling upon the relief fleet was the luckiest break of his short life.
I'm not being impulsive, he told himself, checking his straps as he prepared for a second dive. I'm protecting the Prince's grain!
Using the blinding midday sun as a cloak, he dove again. He was calmer now, the adrenaline sharpening his focus. He ignored the frantic, scattered arrows and focused on the ships carrying ballistae. One by one, the "dragon-slayers" were incinerated before they could even level their sights.
Once the pirates were scattered and the path for the massive cargo ship, The Lighthouse, was clear, Daeron didn't linger. He hovered Tessarion directly over Kraken Hightower's deck, the wind from her wings nearly capsizing the smaller boats. He exchanged a exuberant wave with Kraken and then wheeled south, a blue streak heading for Bloodstone.
Bloodstone Isle
While Daeron was winning his spurs in the north, Aegon was hunched over a map with Ser Alec, debating the fate of the Tyroshi slaves.
"I cannot approve of supporting them unless they bend the knee," Alec said firmly. "Support a rebel today, and you might find his spear at your throat tomorrow. Why raise a tiger in your own garden?"
Aegon shook his head, his eyes fixed on the island of Tyrosh. "If they swear allegiance to me, they cease to be a slave revolt. They become my subjects. And if I use my 'subjects' to slaughter the masters of Essos, the Free Cities will unite to crush me as a tyrant. But a slave revolt? That is a wildfire. I want the masters to burn in a fire I didn't 'start,' even if I'm the one providing the oil."
Alec went silent, realizing again that Aegon wasn't playing at war—he was playing at world-shaping.
"Tell me of the Lango Highlands," Aegon commanded, pointing to the rugged northwest of Tyrosh.
"It is the strongest position on the island," Alec said, his finger tracing the steep cliffs. "High ground, a single defensible road, and it overlooks the city's primary water source. It's littered with the manors of the wealthiest Tyroshi. No slave uprising has ever set foot there."
"Because Tyrosh usually catches them from behind," Aegon noted. "But Tyrosh is currently a smoking ruin. The Archon is busy rebuilding his palace. He has no breath left to chase slaves into the hills."
"True," Alec admitted. "If the rebels have the stomach for it, they could take the Highlands. It would solve their hunger—one-tenth of Tyrosh's grain grows on those plateaus. There's a freshwater lake, too."
Aegon's lips curled into a smile. "If they take the Highlands, they hold Tyrosh by the throat. They don't just survive; they become a siege engine."
"Only for a time, My Prince. Without a port or a true city, they will eventually wither. Unless a city like Braavos or Pentos supports them."
"Braavos removed the collars, but they kept the hierarchy," Aegon muttered, standing up abruptly. The rhythmic tapping of his finger against the chair stopped. "I'm going to Tyrosh. I need to find this 'Rebel Army.' If they are brave enough to march on the Lango Highlands, I'll give them the push they need. And while I'm at it..."
He looked at Alec with a glint of cold ambition.
"I'll take control of the water. Let's see how long the Archon babbles about 'Family Interests' when his people are dying of thirst."
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