POV: Vaeron Velaryon
The doors to the Iron Throne room creaked open as Vaeron Velaryon stepped into the echoing chamber, his silver-blond hair glinting under the filtered sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows. At his back trailed the scent of wind and salt, a mark of Driftmark that clung to his presence.
The courtiers lined along the marble floors and the dark columns fell into silence, their eyes drawn like iron to a lodestone. The boy who had returned not only victorious in the royal tournament, but with Cannibal—the largest wild dragon in existence—loomed larger than life in their eyes.
Some whispered in hushed awe, others turned green with envy. Lords who had once dismissed him as a lesser heir now saw in him the shadow of a conqueror.
Vaeron could feel it all—the weight of their emotions like waves pressing against the hull of a ship. But he did not falter. Each step he took echoed with purpose. When he reached the foot of the Iron Throne, he dropped to one knee with practiced grace.
"Your Grace," he spoke evenly.
POV: King Viserys I Targaryen
Viserys watched the young man with veiled pride. The court was still reeling from the revelation of the boy's dragon—Cannibal. The very name of the beast had been a shadow on Valyria's legacy, yet this son of Corlys and Rhaenys had done what no man had dared.
Vaeron was more than noble blood and martial skill. There was something else. Something that reminded Viserys of his own brother in youth, though more controlled, more... regal.
"Rise, Lord Vaeron," Viserys said, a warm smile curving his lips. "You have brought glory not only to your house, but to the realm. Your deeds will echo in the songs of this generation."
The court clapped. A few with clenched jaws. A few with tight smiles.
POV: Otto Hightower
The Hand of the King was not among those smiling.
He watched the boy—no, the man—stand with pride that was almost Targaryen in nature. Dangerous, Otto thought. Dangerous indeed.
His musings were interrupted by the soft approach of a young maester, barely of age, climbing the throne dais with trembling steps. Otto's brow furrowed as the maester leaned in.
"Maester Mellos sends word from the birthing chambers. The queen... there are complications."
The chill that gripped Otto's spine was instant. His mouth dried as he turned to the King, voice flat.
"Your Grace... you must come. It is the Queen."
POV: Vaeron Velaryon
Vaeron's eyes followed King Viserys as his countenance fell. The warmth fled his features like light from a dying hearth. Without another word, the King descended his throne and hurried past him, trailed by Otto and guards.
Vaeron remained still for a breath, then turned to see the murmurs reignite among the courtiers. He knew what this moment meant. If the plot held, this was the moment Queen Aemma was laboring with Prince Baelon—soon to be lost.
He made his way to the exit, where his parents awaited him with proud expressions.
POV: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen
Rhaenys looked at her son with pride burning through her like wildfire. He was no longer a boy. His command over the dragon, his measured confidence, his humility in the face of accolades—he was becoming the man she had always hoped he'd become.
"You held yourself with honor," she said gently, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
POV: Corlys Velaryon
Corlys placed a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, gripping him with the pride of a father and the weight of a Lord.
"There comes a time in every house when its future must take the helm," he said, his voice like waves on rock. "You have proven you are no longer a mere heir. You are ready."
Vaeron looked up, eyes wide with the realization.
"Father—"
"I name you Lord of Driftmark, Vaeron Velaryon," Corlys said, loud enough for several nearby nobles to hear. "May the seas rise to meet your command."
POV: Vaeron Velaryon
Emotion surged within Vaeron, deeper than any system notification, deeper than any battle thrill. He had dreamt of power, control, glory—but this was something else.
Legacy.
He was now a Lord. Not just in title, but in truth.
He felt the System flicker in his mind, confirming the change.
> Status Updated: Title acquired - Lord of Driftmark Army Module expansion unlocked Influence in Driftmark increased Loyalty of native soldiers improved
He stood taller, not because the system told him to. But because the blood in his veins—the fire and the sea—told him he must.
And so began a new chapter in the legacy of House Velaryon.
Not as a footnote in Targaryen rule.
But as a pillar beside it.
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To be continued...