Chapter 35: The Dragon King's Gaze and the Shadow Isle's Veil
The reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen, the Conciliator, and his beloved Good Queen Alysanne, settled over the Six Kingdoms like a warm, well-stitched cloak after the brutal storms of Maegor's tyranny and the preceding tumult of the Conquest. It was an era of peace, of law-giving, of roads being built to bind the realm, and of a monarchy that actively sought to understand and connect with its diverse peoples. Central to this philosophy were the great Royal Progresses, wherein the King and Queen, often accompanied by their dragons Vermithor and Silverwing, would journey through the kingdoms, holding court, dispensing justice, and reminding their vassals, great and small, of the Targaryen presence.
It was during the meticulous planning of their grand Northern Progress, decades into Jaehaerys's reign, that the name of Skagos arose in the royal councils at King's Landing. Maester Lyman, a diligent scholar of lineages and regional histories, had noted House Volmark's distant Valyrian ancestry, their famed loyalty to the Starks, their legendary wealth from the "Heir's Hoard" gold mine, and their crucial role in repelling the Ironborn under Dagon Greyjoy. Queen Alysanne, ever curious about the remote corners of the realm and its varied peoples, was intrigued. Jaehaerys, a king who valued strength, loyalty, and prosperity in his vassals, saw an opportunity to personally assess this powerful, if somewhat reclusive, Northern house.
And so, the raven flew to Winterfell, and thence by swift Volmark courier ship to Shadowport, carrying a royal decree that sent a silent, electric shock through the hidden heart of Mount Skatus: King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alysanne Targaryen, accompanied by their dragons and a suitable royal retinue, intended to honor Skagos with a visit during their Northern tour. The stated reason was to observe this unique Northern lordship with its Valyrian roots, to foster closer ties, and to witness firsthand the source of its famed prosperity.
The public Lord Volmark of Skagos at this time was Lyra's son, Jojen Volmark (Aelyx's great-grandson, his Reed heritage making him appear more Northman than Valyrian, a useful public face), a man in his late forties, known for his quiet wisdom, his deep understanding of Skagosi lore (the public version, of course), and his unwavering loyalty to his great-grandfather's (publicly, his grandfather Torrhen Volmark's) legacy. He received the news with outward expressions of profound honor and humble gratitude, immediately dispatching word to Winterfell of Skagos's joyful anticipation.
But within the obsidian council chamber deep beneath Mount Skatus, the atmosphere was one of grave, intense deliberation. Aelyx Velaryon, his violet eyes burning with an ageless fire, stood before his immortal family – Lyanna, their eight direct children (all appearing as vigorous adults), and his most trusted grandchildren, now seasoned leaders within the sanctuary.
"Jaehaerys and Alysanne," Aelyx announced, his voice devoid of inflection, yet carrying the weight of centuries. "With Vermithor and Silverwing. Here. On Skagos."
A heavy silence descended. Visenya, her silver-gold hair like a cascade of starlight in the magical luminescence of the chamber, spoke first, her voice tight. "Father, this is… a risk beyond measure. Two adult Targaryen dragons, their riders Valyrian, upon our very doorstep. Can our wards hold against such scrutiny? Can their beasts sense ours?"
Aenar, master of enchantments, his face a mask of focused concentration, replied, "The outer deceptive wards around the island are strong, Father, designed to repel mundane and minor magical intrusion, to make Skagos appear rugged, uninviting beyond Shadowport and its immediate environs. The specific wards around Mount Skatus itself, the core of the sanctuary, are of a different order entirely – layers of Valyrian glyph-magic, Potterverse confunding enchantments, Flamel's alchemical nullification fields, and illusions woven by Rhaenys that should, in theory, make this mountain appear as nothing more than solid rock, inert and unremarkable, even to magical senses. But Targaryen dragons, ridden by Valyrians… their innate connection to fire magic and their own kind is an unknown variable."
"The risk is not that they will stumble upon our gates, Aenar," Aelyx corrected, his gaze sweeping his family. "It is that they, with their Valyrian blood, might sense something. An echo of our magic, a resonance from our dragons, a faint disturbance in the natural order that their Westerosi companions would miss. This visit is both a profound threat and a critical test of our secrecy, our discipline, and the efficacy of all we have built." He paused. "It is also an unparalleled opportunity to observe Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and their dragons, at close quarters. To measure their strength, their wisdom, their vulnerabilities."
The council lasted for days. Every aspect of the royal visit was dissected, every contingency planned for. The core strategy remained absolute: total, unwavering secrecy. The hidden sanctuary would enter a state of unprecedented lockdown.
Publicly, Lord Jojen Volmark initiated preparations with impressive diligence. Shadowport was scrubbed clean, its black stone streets adorned with fresh banners – the Stark direwolf and the Targaryen three-headed dragon flying proudly beside the Volmark wolf-and-kraken. Icefang Keep was aired, its vast halls polished, its guest wing refurbished to a standard of comfort that would impress even a Targaryen king, yet retaining its stern Northern character. Lavish provisions were stockpiled – the finest Skagosi seafood, game from the island's carefully managed (and magically augmented) herds, and an abundance of produce from the famed Glass Gardens. The "Heir's Hoard" mine was prepared for a potential royal tour, its richest (and most easily accessible and stage-managed) seams ready for display. The Skagosi levies drilled with renewed vigor, their discipline and fine steel armor a testament to Volmark preparedness.
But beneath these visible efforts, a far more complex and critical operation was underway, orchestrated by Aelyx from the sanctuary's heart. Mount Skatus became a silent, magically sealed tomb. The nearly two hundred Skagosi dragons, from the ancient, colossal beasts bonded to Aelyx's children down to the youngest hatchlings, were moved to the deepest, most heavily warded caverns, their roars silenced by potent spells of muffling woven by Aenar and Aegon Volmark, their fiery breath contained by cooling enchantments. The air within these caverns was scrubbed of draconic scent by alchemical filters. All dragonrider training ceased. The sky above Skagos, usually crisscrossed by the unseen flight paths of training Volmarks, became utterly empty, save for mundane birds.
The phoenix flock, too, was confined to their most secluded aviaries, their songs magically dampened, their radiant auras shielded. All overt magical practice within the sanctuary was suspended, save for the constant, silent reinforcement of the great wards by Aelyx, Aenar, and their teams of house-elf enchanters. Rhaenys, mistress of illusions, worked tirelessly, weaving new layers of deception around Mount Skatus, making it appear from every angle, to every mundane sense, as an unremarkable, impassable peak of barren rock and ice.
The house-elf population was mobilized with military precision. Those assigned to public duties in Icefang Keep and Shadowport were given new, more deeply ingrained glamours, their instructions drilled into them by Mipsy (still appearing as the venerable Head Steward Myra, her "long service" to House Volmark a testament to the "healthy Skagosi air"). They were to be perfect servants, efficient, respectful, and utterly devoid of any hint of their true nature or the secrets they guarded. Any elf deemed even slightly unreliable was confined to the deepest levels of the sanctuary.
Lyra and Daenys, their greensight focused with painful intensity, attempted to divine the King and Queen's exact itinerary, their moods, their potential lines of questioning, any unforeseen dangers. Their visions were often chaotic, clouded by the powerful Valyrian auras of the approaching Targaryens and their dragons, but occasionally, a clear image would break through – Alysanne showing particular interest in the common folk, Jaehaerys keenly observing harbor defenses, a flash of Silverwing's scales against the grey Skagosi sky.
Aelyx himself prepared for a period of intense, remote observation. He would not, could not, risk direct contact. His Valyrian features, identical to those he bore publicly decades ago as the "first" Lord Volmark, were too great a risk, even if Jaehaerys had never met him. He would see through the eyes of his great-grandson, Lord Jojen Volmark, through the senses of strategically placed, glamoured house-elves, and through his own powerful scrying magic, shielded by layers of protective enchantments. His mind would be a constant presence, guiding Jojen, monitoring every interaction, ready to trigger contingency plans at the slightest hint of discovery.
The tension within the sanctuary was a palpable thing, a silent, thrumming energy. The younger Volmark generations, raised on tales of their family's hidden power and the importance of secrecy, understood the gravity of the situation. They confined themselves to their studies, their magic suppressed, their very movements curtailed. The elder Volmarks, Aelyx's children and grandchildren, were on high alert, each assigned specific roles in maintaining the lockdown, their own dragons grounded, their own immense magical power carefully leashed. Visenya and Maegor, commanders of the dragon legions, found the enforced inactivity particularly galling, but their loyalty to their father's plan was absolute.
Finally, the day arrived. Lookouts on Skagos's northernmost watchtowers, their mundane spyglasses straining, sighted the royal Targaryen fleet on the horizon – a dozen great warships escorting the King's magnificent flagship, Valyrian. And then, a sight that struck awe and terror into the hearts of the Skagosi fisherfolk who witnessed it from their tiny boats: two colossal shapes detaching themselves from the clouds – Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, ancient and powerful, carrying King Jaehaerys; and Silverwing, graceful and swift, bearing Queen Alysanne. The Targaryen dragons had arrived.
Lord Jojen Volmark, his heart pounding beneath his stoic Northern demeanor (though secretly bolstered by calming enchantments and his great-great-grandfather's constant mental presence), rode down to Shadowport's main quay with his honor guard, his wife (a quiet, dignified lady from a lesser branch of House Flint), and his young children. The entire populace of Shadowport lined the streets, their faces a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and profound respect for the approaching royalty.
The Targaryen dragons landed in a specially cleared, wide plaza just outside the city walls, the beat of their immense wings sending gusts of wind that flattened banners and stirred dust. Vermithor, bronze scales gleaming, was a terrifying mountain of muscle and ancient fury. Silverwing, though smaller, possessed an ethereal, dangerous beauty. King Jaehaerys, tall and kingly even in his riding leathers, his Valyrian features noble and intelligent, dismounted with practiced ease. Queen Alysanne, her beauty renowned throughout the realm, her expression kind yet discerning, followed suit. Their Kingsguard, seven towering figures in pristine white cloaks, formed a protective semi-circle.
Lord Jojen Volmark knelt. "Your Majesties," his voice, remarkably steady, carried across the plaza. "On behalf of House Volmark and all the people of Skagos, I bid you most humble and joyous welcome to our isle. Our homes, our hearts, and our loyalty are yours."
Jaehaerys surveyed the scene – the well-ordered port, the disciplined guards, the seemingly prosperous populace, the imposing black walls of Icefang Keep in the distance. He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. "Lord Volmark. We thank you for your welcome. We have heard much of Skagos, of its loyal people and its… unique bounty. We are pleased to finally see it for ourselves."
Queen Alysanne's gaze was softer, more curious, as she looked at the Skagosi children presenting her with bouquets of hardy mountain flowers. "Your island is rugged, my lord, yet there is a strength here, a vitality. And it is said you share with us a distant echo of Old Valyria's blood. It is good to meet kinsmen, however remote."
Aelyx, watching through Jojen's eyes, felt a flicker of grim amusement. Kinsmen indeed, Your Majesty. If only you knew the true extent of that kinship, and the true nature of the fires that burn beneath your feet.
The royal procession made its way to Icefang Keep, the populace cheering, the Targaryen dragons following overhead, their shadows momentarily eclipsing the sun. The visit had begun. For the next few days, Skagos would be under the direct gaze of the Dragon King and Queen. The veil of secrecy, woven over generations with magic and cunning, had to hold. The fate of Aelyx's eternal dynasty depended on it. Every word, every gesture, every gust of wind would be a test. The Shadow King, from his unseen throne, watched and waited, his mind a fortress, his will an unbreakable shield.