Dragonstone, 95 AC
The raven came at dawn.
Prince Daemon read the scroll in silence, his jaw tightening as each line unfurled.
The parchment bore the seal of the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, and though its words were veiled in courtesy, the message was clear:
"A rogue dragonrider with questionable parentage poses a threat to the realm's balance. We urge you, for the good of the crown, to contain the situation before others must."
Daemon crumpled the scroll in his fist, firelight flickering in his eyes.
"The old snake thinks he rules the realm," he muttered.
Elsewhere on Dragonstone
Vaeron stood on the edge of a cliff, wind tugging at his cloak. Noctharys loomed behind him, wings tucked, eyes on the sea. He knew whispers followed him.
He felt them every time he crossed the courtyards, every time the dragonkeepers bowed too deeply—or not at all.
He was no longer just a bastard. He was something worse.
A threat.
Daemon found him there.
"Noctharys," the prince said, eyeing the dragon. "She'll outgrow this island soon."
"She was never meant to stay caged."
"Nor were you," Daemon replied.
He handed Vaeron a scroll. A royal decree. Sealed. Signed by King Viserys.
Vaeron opened it. His brow furrowed.
"They want me gone."
"They fear what you might become. And I…" Daemon paused. "I've always believed that power should never sit idle."
Vaeron looked up. "You're sending me away."
"I'm giving you a chance. Beyond Westeros lie lands unshaped. Opportunities free from the games of court. You have fire, boy. But if you stay here, they'll smother it."
"And what of you? What of us?"
Daemon hesitated, for the first time seeming almost… fatherly. "They may not let me call you son. But I'll not let them kill you either. Take this exile… and make it your empire."
That night, the skies over Dragonstone lit with flame.
Noctharys soared above the castle, black wings slicing through moonlight, her roar shaking the sea. On her back, Vaeron turned his eyes eastward—toward the Free Cities, the ruins of Valyria, and beyond.
He left with nothing but his dragon, a stolen blade, and a name no one would dare forget.
Vaeron Waters was gone.
Vaeron Vaelor was born.