When Vaegon approached the cages, dawn had passed and it was morning. While the flames in the meadow, ignited by the dragon's fire, continued to burn, smoke and the smell of charred flesh mingled together. The people stood silently in their cages, looking around in fear. A few women were trying to quiet Daenor's crying brother, occasionally glancing at Vaegon with fearful eyes to gauge whether he was angry.
Vaegon paid no heed to their gazes and only looked at the two mounds of earth ahead. The faces of the two young men who had been alive just a short while ago came to his mind.
Meanwhile, Vaelar and Darion were overseeing the people skinning the wolves, separating their meat, and a few women preparing breakfast. Occasionally, their eyes fell on Vaegon, and they were surprised at how deeply affected he was. After all, he hadn't caused the deaths of the two young men—why should he be so impacted? He needed to pull himself together soon because Vaegon was leading the group; if he didn't lead, the responsibility would fall to them, and that was a huge burden. They didn't want to be responsible for anything; they just wanted to live long lives on their own terms. Even the work they were doing now bored them immensely.
They had begun thinking about how to pull Vaegon out of this state when Elenya told them that the food was ready. Thinking that perhaps the meal would improve Vaegon's condition, Vaelar and Darion told Elenya to take a wooden tray loaded with plenty of wolf and horse meat to Vaegon. In the meantime, they went to get their own food; after all, they didn't want to go hungry watching Vaegon.
Vaegon looked at the plate—or rather, the tray—that Elenya had brought, with empty eyes. The steam from the boiled potatoes mingled with the heavy smell of wolf meat. The sounds of Vaegon chewing the wolf meat were drowned in the weight of death and loss. Naesin and Daenor's empty graves stood like black stains on the edge of the meadow. His throat was knotted. The silence around him was filled with the shadow of death. Every chewing sound reminded him of Naesin and Daenor's final screams. The thought "I am so weak..." gnawed at his mind. "I can't wield a sword or shoot an arrow. My only power is Anogrion. And I can't even control him. Who knows where he is now, when he'll return?"
Vaegon's state was drawing the attention of others as well. Especially Lord Daemir and Lord Vaelman; both were experienced and wise lords. Not wanting Vaegon to remain in this state any longer and endanger his family, Lord Daemir decided to help Vaegon despite his issues with Vaelar, and slowly began walking toward him. Lord Daemir's movement caught the attention of the other lords and experienced guards. At that moment, Aeros, who was sitting closest to Vaegon, and Gaemon, his friend since childhood, stood up and moved even closer to Vaegon in case Lord Daemir might attack. Seeing this, Lord Daemir furrowed his brows, but since his family was more important to him, he continued walking. Vaegon, however, noticed none of this and continued eating the wolf meat in his hand.
When Lord Daemir sat beside Vaegon, Vaegon finally noticed him. He slowly turned his head toward Lord Daemir, took a bite from the wolf meat in his hand, chewed it slowly, and said mockingly, "Why have you come, esteemed Lord Daemir?"
Lord Daemir met Vaegon's mocking words like a rock. There was no sign of anger or offense on his face, only deep weariness and a father trying to protect his family.
"Leadership is not a burden taken willingly, Lord Vaegon," he replied, his voice as dry and calm as the crackling of the fire. "It is loaded onto your shoulders by the gazes of others. And it has already been loaded onto yours. I am merely... another captain passing by a sinking ship, and unfortunately, the fate of my ship is in your hands as well."
Lord Daemir's final words settled heavily, like the smoke in the air. "...the fate of my ship is in your hands as well."
Vaegon's mocking expression faded. He swallowed hard. His eyes drifted to the distant two mounds of earth, then to Daemir's face, and to the faces of Aeros and Gaemon behind him. Seeing Vaegon's state, Lord Daemir stood up without further delay and went to his family. Aeros and Gaemon, as if waiting for this opportunity, immediately came to Vaegon's side, knelt, and Aeros said in a low voice, "My lord, you had no responsibility. This was entirely due to Naesin and Daenor's own carelessness. Moreover, by doing what no one else had done, you paid compensation to Daenor's brother Maegon. You are a very good leader."
Gaemon nodded in agreement. When Vaegon looked into their eyes, especially encountering Aeros's gaze filled with inexplicable trust, his empty eyes began to sharpen slowly.
Vaegon's eyes involuntarily fixed on Gaemon. As he looked at Gaemon supporting him, Vaegon realized he had never seen this person before. But this stranger had supported him.
When Gaemon felt Vaegon's gaze on him, he bowed his head in a mix of excitement and fear. Thinking he was afraid, Vaegon shifted his gaze to Aeros to ease his fear and said, "Aeros, what is the name of the friend beside you?"
"Gaemon, my lord."
Upon hearing the name Gaemon, Vaegon suddenly closed his eyes. Memories flooded before him involuntarily. Flying in the sky on Anogrion, who was larger than his peers, heading toward Dragonstone where the cowardly Valyrian dragonlords, the Targaryens, had fled with their bastards, the Velaryons, from the mouth of Blackwater.
In his mind, he was traveling with a face adorned with white hair reaching her waist and purple eyes like diamonds. Just as Anogrion was a short distance from Dragonstone, he suddenly roared, waking the dazed Vaegon on his back. As he tried to understand what was happening, he saw the woman he had been thinking of emerge from the clouds on the back of a black dragon. The moment he saw the woman, he thought this unauthorized trip from his family was worth it. When the woman saw that it was Vaegon, she cautiously turned her dragon back toward Dragonstone. Seeing her leaving, Vaegon immediately told Anogrion to follow them.
Instead of riding the dragon to the volcano, the woman landed in the courtyard of the castle on the island, made of Valyrian black stone and adorned with stone statues of gargoyles, wyverns, dragons, and similar creatures. As the woman's dragon landed in the courtyard, she dismounted amid the admiring gazes of the surrounding guards. The moment the woman dismounted, Vaegon also landed Anogrion in the courtyard. When the guards saw Vaegon's arrival, they reached for their weapons, but the woman said coldly, "Calm down. Lord Vaegon Belaegon is a guest. Now lower your weapons and return to your duties."
Ignoring the coldness in the woman's words, Vaegon dismounted from Anogrion and approached her with a smile, saying, "Lady Daenys, you are as beautiful as ever today."
Lady Daenys turned her back on Vaegon without acknowledging him and passed through the door flanked by wyvern statues on both sides. Vaegon, accustomed to this, followed Daenys. As he followed her, he silently admired her body from behind with his eyes. To avoid spoiling the view, he hadn't spoken the entire way. Daenys led him to a hall where a massive dragon was carved lying on its belly, with heavy red doors set into the dragon's mouth. Here, two men—one in his 50s, the other in his 20s, both resembling Daenys—were standing and conversing. Hearing the footsteps, the two turned toward the sound. The one in his early 20s involuntarily furrowed his brows and looked at Vaegon with anger. The older one, with years of experience, kept his face emotionless and said, "To what do we owe this sudden visit, Lord Vaegon Belaegon?"
Looking at the older man, Vaegon said, "I heard for the fourth time that your goods have been seized by House Aerikos. I have come on behalf of my house to offer you an alliance."
As Vaegon's words caused Lord Aenar to furrow his brows, the person beside him immediately said, "Lord Vaegon, this sudden arrival is hardly auspicious. How do we know you haven't seized our goods using House Aerikos's name?"
Looking at the speaker, Vaegon said, "Gaemon, why would we seize your goods using someone else's name? As you know, my house is not like yours. There is a difference of 2 dragonriders between us and the Aerikos—both young—so we have no fear of them," and looked at Gaemon.
As Gaemon was about to respond, Lord Aenar stopped him and said, "Lord Vaegon is right; the power difference between House Belaegon and House Aerikos is small, but what intrigues me is why you want to ally with us, Lord Vaegon."
Vaegon had been expecting Lord Aenar's question and had thought about what to say along the way. So he immediately replied, "Lord Aenar, the reason House Belaegon wants to ally with you is, as you know, the council elections held every 5 years are approaching. Although you are not in Valyria, you are a dragonlord, so you will vote. We want you to support us in selecting the house leader."
Vaegon's offer hung in the air. "The vote is a formality, Lord Aenar," Vaegon insisted, his eyes briefly drifting to Daenys standing silently by the window. "The real issue is to destroy the arrogant rising House Aerikos. My house can be a shield between you and House Aerikos."
Lord Aenar's younger son Gaemon stepped forward, his previous hostility turning into sharp suspicion. "So what is the price of this shield? A vote is one thing. What will bind us afterward?"
"Mutual benefit." The plan was more than a simple alliance; it was the first move in a larger game to control rising houses like Aerikos—a game his uncle and father were too cautious to play.
Lord Aenar finally moved. "Is your uncle aware of this 'offer'?"
"Lord Belaegon is focused on the upcoming council," Vaegon replied carefully, a diplomatic evasion they all understood. He was acting alone.
Despite not liking Vaegon's words, Lord Aenar asked insinuatingly, "So what are the terms of this alliance, Lord Vaegon?"
Lord Aenar's question echoed in the hall. The silence behind the heavy red doors felt trapped between the stone teeth of the dragon statue.
Vaegon paused for a moment. This pause was not hesitation but to gauge his opponent. Then he spoke in a heavy but clear voice:
"The terms are simple, Lord Aenar. Clear and irreversible."
Lord Aenar's gaze hardened. Young Gaemon involuntarily clenched his fists.
"First," Vaegon continued, "you will openly support House Belaegon in the upcoming council elections." After glancing at Daenys for a moment, he went on, "Second, a marriage alliance will be established between our houses. The person to marry will be myself, Vaegon Belaegon, heir to House Belaegon and my father Aelayrs's heir. From your side, it will be your house's only daughter, Daenys Targaryen."
The weight of Vaegon's offer covered the air in the hall like a storm cloud. Lord Aenar's purple eyes narrowed, his hands gripping the edge of the table tightly. That is, until it was broken by the sound of Gaemon drawing his sword from his belt and then angrily shouting, "How dare you ask for my wife, you bastard. My house may be weak, but I won't sell my wife to you."
As Lord Aenar tried to calm his son, Vaegon was trying to process what he heard. The woman who entered his dreams at night and woke him was married to someone else. Most importantly, he had come here without his family's knowledge and tarnished their name with this conversation. When his eyes looked at Daenys questioningly to see if the news was true, the only response was a nod confirming it. In the rage of losing the one he loved to another and being humiliated, Vaegon drew from his belt the bastard sword White King, forged by his father for his 13th birthday, with a weirwood hilt and two roaring white dragons on the pommel.
"How dare you insult my bastard mother?" With Vaegon's drawing of his sword, Aenar, trying to calm his son, stepped aside to avoid dying between two sword-wielding madmen and took his daughter Daenys to call the guards. When the heavy red doors of the hall closed behind them, only two young men remained: one an enraged husband, the other a lover burning with shattered pride.
Once no one was left in the hall, Gaemon and Vaegon began circling each other, searching for openings in their opponents. The stone floor of the hall filled with footsteps. Gaemon's sword was Dark Sister, Valyrian steel taken from House Belaegon by his ancestors in exchange for 8 dragon eggs and 1 hatchling dragon. Vaegon's White King was longer and lighter with its weirwood hilt. The two dragon engravings seemed to reflect their owners' fury. Gaemon made the first move. He struck downward from above in anger. Vaegon leaped aside, parrying the sword, sparks flying as metal clashed with metal. Vaegon countered, swinging White King toward Gaemon's torso. Gaemon blocked with difficulty. Vaegon had the advantage due to his sword's length. As the sounds of clashing swords echoed in the hall, Vaegon used his advantage to take a big step and thrust his sword tip directly at Gaemon's face. Even though Gaemon blocked it at the last moment, Vaegon slid his sword down and made a deep cut on Gaemon's cheek. As blood dripped from Gaemon's cheek, the hall doors burst open violently. Lord Aenar and five guards following him rushed in. The guards drew their swords, but Aenar raised his hand to stop them.
"Enough!" Aenar roared. "Both of you stop! This hall will not be stained with blood!"
Gaemon and Vaegon stopped, breathless, swords still in hand. Their eyes locked on each other.
Aenar stepped forward, his voice cold and resolute: "Lord Vaegon... your offer is rejected. Daenys is my daughter and Gaemon's wife. House Belaegon's power may be great, but Targaryen blood is not for sale. Now take your dragon and leave. If you set foot on Dragonstone again, we will greet you not as a guest but as an enemy."
With his still unquenched rage, Vaegon said, "I am leaving now, Lord Aenar, but I will not forget this. The real mistake was mine, trying to persuade cowards like you to fight. But from now on, House Belaegon will offer dragon fire instead of a shield." He spat at the feet of Gaemon, whose cheek was bleeding, sheathed White King at his waist, and like lightning, exited through the paths he came, mounted Anogrion in the garden. In rage, he flew Anogrion into the sky, heading to Volantis.
"My lord, are you alright?"
Aeros's voice echoed in Vaegon's mind like a distant bell through the fog. Vaegon took a deep breath. His chest was still tight, but he was no longer suffocating. As he looked at the two kneeling before him, his eyes involuntarily wandered over Gaemon's cheek. But there was no scar there. He knew this was not Gaemon Targaryen, but sometimes knowing did not mean accepting. As his heart burned with the newly discovered pain, for the first time since that event, Vaegon felt courage within him. He was Vaegon Belaegon, leader of House Belaegon, rider of the dragon Anogrion—how could he fear? While immersed in these feelings, Vaegon stood up.
This sudden movement surprised the people watching him. He first passed his gaze over the kneeling Aeros and Gaemon, then turned it to the meadow, to the graves.
"Stand up," he said in a calm but non-negotiable voice.
With Aeros and Gaemon behind him, Vaegon slowly walked to the two mounds of earth. When he reached the graves, he knelt on one knee and cupped the wet soil on top of the graves. As he felt the wet soil in his palm, there was neither anger nor sorrow on his face; only determination. His fear and guilt had been buried here with the two who died. He was Vaegon Belaegon; he would be worthy of his mother and father and take his revenge on the Targaryens. For this, he would rule this world and make the Targaryens his dogs. Vaegon's movements had drawn everyone's attention. As everyone tried to understand what was happening, Vaelar and Darion looked at Vaegon with smiles on their faces. Vaegon had moved; this showed he had overcome his sense of responsibility for the losses and would take back control.
When Vaegon noticed Vaelar and Darion approaching, he let the soil in his palm fall onto the graves. He slowly stood up. He did not wipe the mud on him; he wanted it to remain. As a mark of his decision.
Vaelar was the first to speak. There was no usual mockery in his voice.
"So you've finally returned," he said. "We thought we'd lost you."
Without averting his gaze from him, Vaegon replied.
"I wasn't lost," he said in a calm tone. "I just remembered who I am."
Darion's smile faded from his face. There was something in these words; like a command, definitive. Darion had only seen eyes full of such hatred in his uncle when managing affairs. These eyes were no longer those of Aelayrs's son Vaegon, but of Lord Vaegon Belaegon, leader of House Belaegon.
Darion looked into Vaegon's eyes for a few more seconds, then bowed his head. This was a gesture of respect; born not from habit, but from acceptance.
"What is your command, brother?" he asked. Darion's movement surprised Vaelar; he couldn't make sense of it.
Without averting his gaze from the meadow, Vaegon spoke. "We will wait for Anogrion. In the meantime, don't idle; you and Vaelar gather the men and turn them into stakes, placing them around the cages with the sharp ends pointing outward to impale approaching animals. These stakes will be our wooden wall and keep the animals away."
Darion nodded once more.
"Understood, brother; we'll do as you say immediately," he said shortly and clearly. Then he turned to Vaelar. "You heard."
Vaelar shrugged, but the surprise on his face gave way to seriousness.
"I heard," he said. "And it makes sense."
Then he cast a stern glance at the men standing in the cages or sitting outside.
"Hey! Stop staring blankly. Anyone with an axe, come with me. We're going into the forest."
Despite their fear of the dragons, the men moved without hesitation. Vaelar's voice, combined with Vaegon's determination, turned the camp's disarray into order. In a few minutes, axes were gathered, ropes prepared, trees selected for stakes.
Vaegon remained in front of the cages. Aeros and Gaemon stood silently behind him.
"Aeros," Vaegon said in a low voice, "take Gaemon. Bring food to the men I brought from the Great Arena, and also bring the recovering Maekar to me." As soon as Vaegon's words ended, Aeros bowed his head.
"As you command, my lord." He gave Gaemon a brief glance. The two passed through the cages toward the back of the camp, to the cage holding the men brought from the Great Arena. Vaegon did not look after them. His gaze was still on the meadow. He could already hear in his mind the sounds that would come when the stakes were driven in, the echoes of axes on wood. These sounds were now the shovels of soil thrown onto the grave of the old Vaegon.
After a while, footsteps came from behind.
Aeros and Gaemon arrived with Maekar, whose left arm was bandaged. Yet his eyes were alive; the eyes of a man who had survived. Aeros stopped Maekar a few steps behind Vaegon.
"My lord," Maekar said, kneeling on one knee with a voice trembling from fear. "You summoned me." Vaegon turned. This time his gaze was stern but not empty. "Did the medicine work, Maekar?" he asked.
"My lord, I see the effect of the medicine, but my arm isn't healed yet. But it will heal soon, my lord. My arm is still weak, but I can hold a sword. If necessary... I'll hold it before I die, my lord."
Hearing Maekar's words, Vaegon nodded slightly. The determination in the man's eyes was what he needed after the losses: loyalty and will. "Good," he said, his voice now completely clear and authoritative. "Then you will be useful. Aeros, Gaemon. Take Maekar and the two men who were with him before, and take them to Vaelar and Darion. They need every hand they can use in preparing, carrying, or placing the stakes. You can hold a rope with one arm, can't you, Maekar?"
Maekar nodded eagerly. "Yes, my lord! I'll work without stopping."
"Then go."
As the three left to join the men heading toward the forest at the camp's edge, Vaegon finally turned his back and walked toward the main clearing between the cages. The people's activity had spread a new energy through the camp. The previous deathly silence and fear had given way to purposeful haste. Vaegon approached Maegon, who was being quieted with difficulty by the women.
When Vaegon reached Maegon, the child's tears had turned into sorrowful sobs. The women beside him withdrew uneasily at Vaegon's arrival. The child, his eyes swollen from fear and grief, lifted his head and looked at him.
Vaegon crouched in front of the child to meet him at eye level. The empty expression was no longer on his face; it was stern but fair.
"Maegon," he said, his voice clear despite the clattering of axes in the background. "You lost someone you loved. I know that pain."
The child only blinked, unable to speak. Seeing the child's state, Vaegon said, "I know you're afraid, Maegon, but between us, let me tell you something: I'm afraid too, Maegon," Vaegon confessed with surprising honesty. The child's eyes widened. In a trembling voice, "You ride the flying, fire-breathing thing—why are you afraid?" he said.
Vaegon smiled faintly at the child's question; it was a bitter smile. His eyes lingered on Maegon's young face, then drifted far away, to the sky, searching for Anogrion there. "That flying thing is my dragon, Anogrion. As for your question, everyone fears, Maegon, because fear keeps us alive. A man without fear is a dead man, Maegon."
With Vaegon's words, Maegon cried, "Is my brother fearless now?"
Seeing the child cry, Vaegon realized he had spoken wrongly. Placing his hand on the crying child's head, "Real men don't cry, Maegon. As you said, your brother is fearless now," he said.
Afraid of Vaegon getting angry, he tried not to cry, but couldn't suppress his tears. Deciding not to make things worse, Vaegon stroked the child's head, stood up, and walked toward the forest to check on the workers. As Vaegon left the child behind and headed to the forest edge, he felt remorseful inside. The child's innocent, painful question echoed in his ears: "Is my brother fearless now?" And his own foolish, harsh answer. "Real men don't cry." How empty a phrase. Just a few hours ago, he himself had been buried in sorrow at Naesin and Daenor's graves, nearly about to cry. Was leadership about showing people strength, or sharing the pain with them? Lord Daemir's words came to mind: "Leadership is not a burden taken willingly. It is loaded onto your shoulders by the gazes of others."
He entered the cool shade of the forest. The solid thuds of axes, the creaking of falling trees, and the men's calls to each other filled his ears. The air smelled of freshly cut wood and earth. Vaelar was directing a group of men, pruning the branches of felled trees. Darion, a bit further away, was giving instructions to sharpen the ends of the trunks turned into stakes. The work was progressing quickly.
Vaegon approached Vaelar. "How's the situation?"
Vaelar turned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "It's going well. In a few hours, we'll have all the stakes we need."
Just as Vaelar finished speaking, a roar shook the forest. Then two roars from the cages joined in. Vaegon turned his back and looked at the sky, smiling. Because Anogrion had come.