Chapter 16: The Dragon's Brood and the Mountain's Echoes
Two decades had flowed like a swift, dark river since Aelyx Velaryon had first brought his Stark bride, Lyanna, to the shores of Skagos. Twenty years of meticulous planning, relentless construction, and the quiet, inexorable growth of a hidden empire. To the outside world, Lord Aelyx Volmark was a powerful, enigmatic, and fabulously wealthy Northern lord, master of a prosperous Skagos, his alliance with Winterfell a cornerstone of Northern stability. His "Heir's Hoard" gold mine continued to yield its seemingly endless bounty, fueling trade, bolstering his private army of "Skagosi levies," and allowing for acts of strategic generosity that kept the Northern lords content and incurious. The Glass Gardens at Winterfell, a gift from Lord Volmark, flourished, a constant reminder of his unique capabilities and his bond with House Stark. Shadowport had transformed into a formidable, bustling city, its black stone walls and towers a grim testament to Volmark power, its harbor teeming with ships flying the wolf-and-kraken banner.
But beneath this meticulously crafted veneer, within the volcanic heart of Mount Skatus, Aelyx's true ambitions had taken root and grown to terrifying proportions. The hidden sanctuary was a world unto itself, a subterranean metropolis of magic, lore, and burgeoning draconic might. And it was here that the true legacy of House Volmark, the children of Aelyx and Lyanna, had come into their own.
Torrhen Volmark, now a young man of twenty-four, was the epitome of his father's vision for a public heir. Tall and powerfully built, he possessed his mother's dark Stark hair but his father's arresting violet eyes, which held a calm, assessing intelligence. He was a skilled warrior by Northern standards, his prowess with the Valyrian steel longsword 'Icefang' (a gift from Aelyx, "recovered from Velaryon vaults") renowned. He was increasingly involved in the public administration of Skagos, his pronouncements thoughtful, his judgment fair, his loyalty to his father absolute. But within the sanctuary, Torrhen was a formidable sorcerer, his mastery over defensive magic and complex transfigurations making him a bulwark. His warging abilities, nurtured by Lyanna and honed through secret expeditions into the Skagosi wilds, allowed him to commune with the great white wolves of the island, his consciousness briefly merging with theirs, granting him unparalleled reconnaissance capabilities. He was a prince of two worlds, walking the line between Northern lord and hidden sorcerer with a grace that belied the immense pressure of his dual existence.
Visenya, at twenty-two, was a breathtaking, terrifying beauty. Her long, silver-gold hair, a direct inheritance from Aelyx, framed a face of sharp, intelligent features and eyes that blazed with violet fire when her temper was roused. Her public persona was that of a somewhat aloof, incredibly sharp-witted lady, her insights into trade and diplomacy surprisingly astute. But in the sanctuary, Visenya was an elemental force, a sorceress whose control over fire and lightning was becoming legendary among the house-elves who assisted in her training. She chafed under any perceived restriction, her Valyrian spirit demanding freedom and power. Aelyx, understanding this, had begun to channel her ambition into mastering the most complex and destructive forms of Valyrian fire magic, seeing in her a potential weapon unlike any other.
Lyra, a year younger than Visenya, remained the quietest of the elder siblings, yet her power was perhaps the most pervasive. Her dark Stark looks were softened by an ethereal quality, her grey eyes often distant, lost in the currents of her potent greensight. Publicly, she was known for her gentle demeanor, her skill with healing herbs (cultivated in Icefang Keep's private gardens), and her uncanny way with animals. Within the sanctuary, Lyra was the chief interpreter of omens, her visions, though often fragmented, providing crucial insights that Aelyx factored into his long-term strategies. She had also become the primary caretaker of the phoenix flock, her bond with Fawkes, Auriel, and their offspring so profound that she could understand their songs, which often carried warnings or prophecies. Her healing abilities, augmented by phoenix tears and Flamel's alchemical knowledge imparted by Aelyx, were miraculous.
Maegor, at nineteen, was a giant of a young man, his physique all Stark brawn, but with his father's violet eyes burning with a reckless Valyrian love for battle and glory. He was the beloved captain of Icefang Keep's household guard, his martial prowess and boisterous charisma earning him the adoration of the Skagosi soldiers. In the sanctuary, Maegor was a nascent battle-mage, his preferred method of spellcasting involving shouts and explosive releases of raw power. He struggled with subtlety but excelled in any magic that involved direct confrontation. His laughter, loud and frequent, echoed through even the deepest caverns.
Aenar, the "baby" at eighteen, had grown into a tall, slender youth, his features a perfect, almost unnervingly beautiful blend of Stark and Valyrian. His solemn, watchful nature persisted, but it now masked a formidable intellect and a deep, intuitive connection to the fundamental forces of magic. He cared little for public life, preferring the sanctuary's vast libraries and arcane workshops. He was a master of runes, glyphs, and enchanting, his ability to imbue objects with lasting magical properties already surpassing many of the spells detailed in Voldemort's grimoires. He was Aelyx's quiet apprentice in the deepest secrets of warding and magical construction.
Aelyx and Lyanna, their physical forms untouched by the passage of two decades thanks to the potent Elixir of the soul-fed Philosopher's Stone, had overseen their children's development with a mixture of exacting discipline and profound pride. Their own relationship had evolved into a unique immortal partnership, a bond forged in shared secrets, immense power, and the joint creation of a new, extraordinary lineage. Lyanna, now a powerful sorceress in her own right, her Stark greensight and warging abilities honed to a razor's edge, was Aelyx's most trusted confidante, her counsel often providing a tempering balance to his colder, more ruthless calculations. She was the heart of their hidden family, her love for her children a fierce, protective fire.
The most significant development for the Volmark heirs, however, was the formal bonding with their dragons. The twenty-nine dragons hatched years ago were now magnificent beasts, ranging from the size of large destriers to truly colossal creatures that rivaled the descriptions of the lesser dragons of Old Valyria. Balerion's Shadow, Torrhen's chosen mount, was a terrifying behemoth of black scales and molten-red eyes, its roar a physical force. Visenya had claimed a sleek, amethyst-hued dragoness with a vicious temperament and an affinity for lightning-infused fire, naming her Stormchaser. Lyra, surprisingly, had bonded with one of the smaller, though no less formidable, jade-green dragons, whose intelligence was almost human-like and whose movements were as silent as a forest shadow; she called him Whisperwind. Maegor, predictably, had chosen the largest, most aggressive bronze dragon, a brute he named Skullcrusher, whose roar was second only to Balerion's Shadow. Even Aenar had formed a quiet, intense bond with a slender, silver-winged dragon that seemed to shimmer in and out of visibility, a creature he simply called Quicksilver.
The bonding rituals, conducted by Aelyx using a synthesis of Valyrian blood magic (his own, and that of his children, carefully controlled) and potent Potterverse binding charms, had been intense, primal affairs deep within the main dragon cavern. The sight of his children, one by one, mounting their chosen beasts for the first time, their forms silhouetted against the lava-light as dragon and rider took to the vast underground sky, had filled Aelyx with a satisfaction so profound it bordered on the divine. His dragon-riding dynasty was no longer a dream; it was a living, breathing reality. The remaining dragons were being groomed for future Volmark descendants, or to serve as a reserve aerial armada.
The magical population of the sanctuary had also flourished. Aelyx and Lyanna had had three more children in the intervening years: another set of twins, Rhaenys and Aegon, now energetic ten-year-olds already showing strong magical potential, and a final daughter, Daenys, a girl of seven with her mother's dark hair and her father's knowing violet eyes, already prone to vivid, prophetic dreams. Eight children in total, each a vessel of their unique, potent bloodline.
The house-elf community now numbered over fifty, their population steadily, naturally increasing. The original ten, now revered elders, oversaw a new generation of younger elves, all fiercely loyal, their innate magic amplified by the Elixir and the ambient power of the sanctuary. They managed every aspect of the hidden realm, from the dragon nurseries and phoenix aviaries to the libraries, laboratories, kitchens, and forges, their efficiency and devotion the invisible bedrock upon which Aelyx's empire was built. The phoenix flock, too, had grown. Fawkes, Auriel, and their first four offspring now had another half-dozen vibrant, trilling chicks, their collective presence a constant source of healing magic and joyful song that resonated throughout the deeper, more peaceful levels of the sanctuary.
The sanctuary itself was a marvel that would have dwarfed any known stronghold in Westeros or Essos. It was a city beneath a mountain, its caverns interconnected by wide, rune-lit tunnels, its chambers vast and artfully shaped. New dragon caverns had been excavated, some so large they possessed their own internal weather systems, where the larger dragons could fly with greater freedom. The libraries now contained tens of thousands of volumes – magical theory, spellbooks, histories of forgotten ages, alchemical treatises, astronomical charts – from multiple worlds and epochs. Aelyx's personal laboratory was a sanctum of arcane power, where he delved into the deepest mysteries of soul magic, elemental control, and the very fabric of reality, subtly aided by the conceptual understanding of the Elder Wand, which he now wielded through a magnificent staff of polished weirwood topped with a captured, ever-burning cold Valyrian fire-gem.
The defenses were formidable beyond imagining. Layers upon layers of wards, forged from Valyrian glyph-magic, Potterverse enchantments, and Flamel's alchemical barriers, shielded the sanctuary from all forms of detection, both magical and mundane. Illusions cloaked the entrances, misdirection charms led any errant explorers astray, and powerful offensive curses awaited any who might somehow breach the outer defenses. It was, Aelyx was confident, the most secure location on the planet.
While this hidden world thrived, public Skagos continued its carefully managed ascent. The "Heir's Hoard" gold funded the construction of a new, larger deep-water port at Shadowport, capable of accommodating the largest trading vessels. A small but elite Volmark navy patrolled the Skagosi coast, deterring pirates and ensuring the safety of their merchant ships. The Skagosi levies, armed with fine steel and rigorously trained, were a match for any Northern force of comparable size. Torrhen Volmark, as his father's heir, often represented Skagos at Northern councils, his wisdom and martial prowess earning him respect, his marriage to a suitable Northern lady (a match Aelyx was already discreetly scouting) anticipated.
Aelyx, however, was always looking further ahead. The North was a secure base, a useful shield. But the wider world, with its own unfolding dramas – the squabbling Free Cities, the rising threat of the Dothraki in the east, the slow decay of older powers – presented both dangers and opportunities. His greensight, and Lyra's, occasionally brought him unsettling glimpses of a long, cold night to come, of white shadows and an unending winter. Such prophecies were distant, decades, perhaps centuries away, but Aelyx cataloged them. His dynasty was being built for eternity, and eternity encompassed all threats.
For now, he was content to consolidate, to teach, to build. His children, his dragons, his phoenixes, his house-elves, his immortal consort – they were the pieces of his eternal game. Skagos was his fortress, the sanctuary his heart, and the world, unknowingly, was the board upon which he would eventually make his true, definitive moves. The mountain echoed with the song of phoenixes, the roar of dragons, the crackle of magic, and the laughter of children destined to rule the shadows – a symphony conducted by the unwavering will of Aelyx Velaryon, the Last Dragonlord, and the first of a new, unending line.