Chapter 26: The Dragon's Seed and the Eve of Fire
The decades following the Golden Feast of Skagos unfolded with the steady, inexorable rhythm of Aelyx Velaryon's grand design. While the North settled into an era of unprecedented peace and prosperity, its western flank secured by the legendary might and generosity of House Volmark, within the misty, mountainous isle, a hidden dynasty was flourishing, its roots sinking ever deeper into the magical heart of Mount Skatus. Time, for Aelyx and Lyanna, flowed like an endless river, their Elixir-fueled immortality granting them the perspective of ages as they watched their family and their secret kingdom expand.
The five elder Volmark children, now firmly established in their Northern marriages, began to fulfill one of their primary dynastic purposes: procreation. Torrhen and his pragmatic Manderly bride, Myranda, were the first to bless Icefang Keep with the cries of a new generation. Their eldest, a robust boy named Cregan Volmark after his Stark great-grandfather, inherited his father's violet eyes and his mother's sturdy build. He was followed by two daughters, Rowena and Arya, both displaying a lively intelligence. As per Aelyx's unyielding marriage contracts, all children bore the Volmark name and were raised primarily on Skagos, their Northern parent becoming an integral, if carefully managed, part of the Skagosi household.
Visenya and Ser Bennard Karstark, a surprisingly harmonious pairing once Bennard accepted his wife's formidable spirit and power (both public and, as he would eventually discover, private), produced a line of fierce, silver-haired children with their mother's fiery temperament. Their eldest son, Baelor Volmark, was a miniature storm of energy, already showing an uncanny affinity for the crackling ozone that sometimes preceded his mother's more… emphatic pronouncements.
Lyra and Howland Reed's union was a quieter affair, their children – two sons, Jojen and Meera, and a daughter, Wylla – inheriting their parents' contemplative nature and a profound connection to the mystical undercurrents of Skagos. Young Jojen, even as a toddler, would fall into trances, babbling of green dreams and whispering trees, his greensight a clear and potent inheritance.
Maegor and the boisterous Eddara Umber filled their wing of Icefang Keep with a brood of loud, laughing, physically powerful children. Their twin sons, Hrothgar and Garth, were miniature versions of Maegor, already wrestling and brandishing wooden swords with terrifying enthusiasm. Aenar and the gentle Lyarra Snow had fewer children, but their son, Valerion Volmark, was a quiet, prodigiously intelligent boy, his mind already devouring the simpler texts in Icefang Keep's library, his violet eyes holding a disturbingly adult focus.
These grandchildren, over twenty of them born within two decades, were Aelyx's great hope. They were the second generation of his carefully cultivated bloodline, a potent fusion of Valyrian magical legacy and resilient Northern blood, many carrying the latent gifts of warging and greensight from their Stark and Reed lineages. Their early upbringing was a carefully orchestrated duality. Publicly, within the increasingly grand halls of Icefang Keep and the bustling streets of Shadowport, they were the cherished offspring of a powerful Northern house, learning riding, sums, Northern history, and the martial skills appropriate to their station. They interacted with their Northern parent's visiting kin, maintaining the illusion of a conventional, albeit extraordinarily wealthy, noble family.
But their true education, their true home, was the sanctuary. As soon as they were old enough to understand secrecy and basic magical concepts – typically around the age of seven or eight – Aelyx and Lyanna, along with their own now-adult children, would personally induct their grandchildren into the hidden world beneath Mount Skatus. The awe, the fear, the dawning wonder in their young eyes as they first beheld the house-elves in their true forms, the glowing caverns, the magnificent phoenixes, and, above all, the dragons, was a sight Aelyx savored with cold, profound satisfaction.
Each grandchild was assessed, their magical potential meticulously cataloged. Those showing strong Valyrian traits were steered towards elemental magic and spellcraft. Those with dominant Stark gifts had their greensight and warging nurtured by Lyanna and Lyra. All were taught Occlumency from a young age, the importance of secrecy and loyalty to the Shadow Lord (their grandfather, Aelyx, in his sanctuary persona) hammered into them. They were the dragon's seed, destined to inherit an eternal, magical kingdom.
The Northern spouses of Aelyx's children lived a privileged, if somewhat bewildering, existence. They were showered with wealth and respect within Icefang Keep. They were parents to beautiful, intelligent children. They saw their own Northern families prosper thanks to the Volmark alliance. Yet, they were largely kept from the deepest secrets. They knew their Volmark spouses, and indeed their father-in-law Lord Aelyx, possessed unusual abilities, a certain Valyrian mystique, and an uncanny knack for success. They attributed Skagos's impossible bounty to the "Heir's Hoard" and Lord Volmark's genius. They sensed the hidden depths to Icefang Keep and the strange, guarded nature of their spouses when certain topics arose, but most, content with their luxurious lives and the evident love their children received, did not pry too deeply. Only Ser Bennard Karstark, whose warrior's intuition was sharp, and Howland Reed, with his innate mystical sensitivity, seemed to guess at something far stranger, far more powerful, lurking beneath the surface. Aelyx watched them all, ever vigilant, ready to bind them with golden chains of comfort or, if necessary, with more… persuasive methods should their curiosity become a threat. None, as yet, had been deemed worthy or safe enough for the Elixir or the full revelation.
Within the sanctuary itself, the magical population continued its steady, managed growth. Aelyx and Lyanna, their own family now complete with their eight direct offspring – Torrhen, Visenya, Lyra, Maegor, Aenar, and the younger trio of Rhaenys (now a spirited sixteen-year-old with a talent for illusions), Aegon (a quiet fourteen-year-old with an affinity for protective enchantments), and Daenys (a twelve-year-old whose prophetic dreams were becoming alarmingly accurate, echoing her older sister Lyra's greensight) – formed the immortal ruling core.
The house-elf community, now numbering well over a hundred, thrived across multiple generations. Younger elves, born within the sanctuary's embrace, were rigorously trained by their elders – Mipsy, Tibbit, Kreely, Gorok, and the others – in specialized magical support roles. Some excelled in advanced herbology and potion-brewing, tending the vast subterranean gardens and alchemical labs. Others became master enchanters, assisting Aenar in crafting magical tools and reinforcing the sanctuary's wards. A select few, with the strongest magical cores, were even trained in defensive combat magic, forming a secret, highly effective honor guard for the Volmark family within the sanctuary. All partook of a diluted form of the Elixir of Life, ensuring their longevity and loyalty across centuries, their lives inextricably bound to the eternal destiny of their master's house.
The phoenix flock, too, had expanded. Fawkes, Auriel, and their initial offspring had produced several more clutches. Nearly a dozen of these magnificent, fiery creatures now graced the sanctuary's highest, warmest caverns, their songs a constant source of healing energy and hope, their tears an invaluable ingredient in Aelyx's most potent restorative potions. Each Volmark child and grandchild felt a unique bond with these creatures of light.
But the true symbols of Skagos's hidden might were the dragons. The original twenty-nine, now fully mature, were colossal beasts, their scales like living gemstones, their roars shaking the foundations of Mount Skatus. Balerion's Shadow, Torrhen's mount, was a black terror whose wingspan could cloak a small village. Visenya's Stormchaser crackled with latent lightning. Lyra's Whisperwind moved with uncanny silence. Maegor's Skullcrusher was a bronze battering ram. Aenar's Quicksilver seemed to bend light itself. And, to Aelyx's immense satisfaction, these magnificent creatures had begun to breed. The first clutches of Skagosi-born dragons had hatched – smaller, fiercer perhaps, perfectly acclimated to the sanctuary's unique environment. The dragon caverns had been massively expanded, transformed into a network of interconnected volcanic chambers, vast enough for flight, with magically regulated temperatures and carefully managed ecosystems to provide sustenance. Aelyx now commanded a force of nearly fifty dragons of varying ages, a hidden aerial armada that would make even the Targaryens of old pause.
His elder children were now accomplished dragonriders, their bonds with their mounts absolute. Their training had moved beyond simple flight to complex aerial combat maneuvers, coordinated squadron tactics, and the precise application of dragonfire. The younger Volmark children – Rhaenys, Aegon, and Daenys – were already being introduced to the younger dragons, their own future mounts being carefully selected by Aelyx.
As the years turned into decades, Aelyx's mind was increasingly occupied by the second, more distant vision: Aegon's Conquest. He knew, with the chilling certainty of greensight, that the Targaryen invasion was no longer a far-off speck on the horizon; it was drawing nearer, perhaps only another decade or two away. The time for quiet preparation was rapidly maturing into a need for heightened vigilance.
Tibbit's network of spies, now a sophisticated organization of glamoured house-elves and magically bound human agents scattered across Westeros and the western Free Cities, fed him a constant stream of intelligence. He learned of the small, isolated island of Dragonstone, the last Valyrian outpost where House Targaryen had taken refuge before the Doom. He learned of their three great dragons: Balerion the Black Dread, ancient and terrible; Vhagar, old and cunning; and Meraxes, swift and silver. He studied the Targaryen lineage, their rumored ambition, their reliance on dragon power. He noted the growing fragmentation and internal rivalries of the Seven Kingdoms – the proud, stubborn Storm Kings, the wealthy but decadent Gardeners of the Reach, the arrogant Lannisters of the Rock, the feuding riverlords, the isolated Vale, and the fractured, often warring kingdoms of Dorne. Westeros was ripe for conquest, a chaotic tapestry awaiting a unifying, fiery hand.
Aelyx's preparations intensified. While Skagos's public military, the Volmark fleet and levies, remained a formidable conventional force (its numbers swelled by the high Skagosi birthrate and the continued, discreet influx of "settlers" from poorer Northern regions, still facilitated by the "Heir's Hoard"), his true efforts were focused on the sanctuary.
Magical research, led by Aelyx and Aenar, delved into Valyrian dragonlore, seeking ways to enhance their own dragons' resilience, to counter enemy dragonfire, perhaps even to develop methods of subtly influencing or disrupting other dragonriders. They experimented with new alloys for armor, both for riders and potentially for the dragons themselves, using the Philosopher's Stone to transmute metals into materials of impossible lightness and strength. Protective enchantments were refined, new offensive spells devised, drawing from the darkest corners of Voldemort's knowledge and the most arcane Valyrian texts.
The sanctuary's wards were reinforced to an almost unimaginable degree. Layers of deception magic, misdirection charms, and outright offensive curses were woven around the entire island of Skagos and particularly Mount Skatus. It was not just hidden; it was designed to be actively hostile to any unauthorized magical or mundane intrusion.
Aelyx also began to formulate contingency plans. His primary goal was to remain undetected, to allow Aegon's Conquest to unfold without Skagosi interference, if possible. The North, under the strong, loyal (and Volmark-influenced) rule of House Stark, would likely bend the knee as it had in other historical invasions, preserving its relative autonomy. Skagos, as a vassal of Winterfell, would be shielded by that submission. But Aelyx was no fool. He prepared for other scenarios: if the Targaryens, with their own Valyrian heritage, somehow sensed another dragon power; if the chaos of the Conquest threatened Skagos directly; or if an opportunity arose to subtly weaken a potential long-term rival or acquire a valuable asset (perhaps even a Targaryen dragon egg, if one could be… liberated).
His children were an integral part of these preparations. Torrhen, as the public face and future Lord Volmark, was tasked with maintaining absolute loyalty and stability in the North, ensuring that no Northern lord grew foolishly defiant against the inevitable Targaryen tide. Visenya and Maegor, as his premier dragon commanders, drilled their phantom squadrons relentlessly in the vast underground skies. Lyra and Daenys, with their combined greensight, became his eyes on the future, sifting the currents of time for any shift in the Targaryen's approach or any unforeseen threat. Aenar, the master enchanter, worked tirelessly with Aelyx and the house-elves to perfect the sanctuary's defenses and to craft unique magical armaments.
The atmosphere within the sanctuary, as the predicted timeframe for Aegon's landing drew closer, was one of quiet, intense readiness. The younger grandchildren were now beginning their own magical education, their childish laughter a strange counterpoint to the grim preparations of their elders. Aelyx and Lyanna, ageless and resolute, watched over their sprawling, multi-generational magical family, a hidden kingdom teeming with sorcerers, warriors, house-elves, phoenixes, and nearly fifty dragons, all bound by blood, magic, and an unshakeable loyalty to their immortal patriarch.
The world outside was oblivious. The lords of Westeros squabbled and plotted, unaware of the fiery doom about to descend from Dragonstone. And they were even more ignorant of the silent, watchful power in the far North, a power far older in spirit, far more deeply entrenched, and possessed of a patience that could outlast empires. Aelyx Velaryon had sown his dragon's seed, and it had taken root in the fertile, magically charged soil of Skagos. The eve of fire was approaching, and the Lord of Shadows was ready.