Chapter 31: The Scorpion's Sting and the Dragon King's Reach (Aegon's Conquest: Part 4)
The submission of King Torrhen Stark at the Trident sent a ripple of resignation and grim acceptance throughout the remaining independent kingdoms of Westeros, save one: Dorne. As Aegon Targaryen turned his attention from the subdued North to the formal consolidation of his vast new realm, Aelyx Velaryon, from his hidden throne within Mount Skatus, watched with the unblinking intensity of an immortal predator observing the shifting dynamics of its hunting ground. The age of petty kings was over; the age of the dragon had truly dawned upon Westeros, and every fiery breath taken by Aegon's beasts was a lesson Aelyx meticulously cataloged.
Aegon's coronation in the Starry Sept of Oldtown by the High Septon himself, a lavish ceremony designed to legitimize his conquest in the eyes of gods and men, was reported to Aelyx in excruciating detail by Tibbit's agents. The Conqueror, clad in black Valyrian steel, the ruby eyes of his circlet gleaming, received the blessings of the Faith, a shrewd political move that Aelyx acknowledged with a cold nod. He was also crowned, more simply but with equal import, by his own supporters at the newly christened King's Landing, the rapidly growing settlement at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush where he intended to build his capital. The Iron Throne, that monstrous, jagged seat forged from the melted swords of his defeated enemies, was already becoming a potent symbol of his absolute, uncompromising power.
Aelyx directed his intelligence network to focus on the nascent Targaryen administration. He studied the appointments to Aegon's Small Council – men chosen for loyalty and competence, often from houses newly elevated or those who had bent the knee swiftly. He observed the establishment of the Kingsguard, an elite cadre of seven knights sworn to protect their king, a Valyrian concept adapted to Westerosi chivalry. He noted the decrees issued from King's Landing, the attempts to unify disparate laws, the beginnings of a centralized bureaucracy.
"He builds to last, or at least, to attempt it," Aelyx commented to Lyanna, as they reviewed reports in their private solar within the sanctuary. Lyanna, her Stark pragmatism a constant, valuable counterpoint to Aelyx's Valyrian complexities, traced the lines of Aegon's new roads on a magically projected map.
"He binds the kingdoms with stone and steel, as well as fire," she observed. "But Dorne… Dorne does not bend."
And it was Dorne that now captured Aelyx's most profound strategic interest. While the other six kingdoms had fallen with varying degrees of resistance, the southernmost realm, ruled by the cunning Princess Meria Martell, the "Yellow Toad of Dorne," remained defiantly independent. Aegon, accustomed to swift, overwhelming victories, launched what would become known as the First Dornish War, expecting a quick submission. He was to be sorely, and bloodily, disappointed.
Lyra and Daenys Volmark, their greensight now a finely honed instrument under their father's guidance, brought vivid, often disturbing, glimpses of the Dornish campaign. They saw not pitched battles on open fields, where dragons excelled, but a landscape of scorching deserts, treacherous mountain passes, and hidden wells, a land that seemed to swallow armies whole. They saw Dornish spearmen, light and swift, melting away before Targaryen advances only to reappear, like desert vipers, striking at supply lines, ambushing isolated patrols, poisoning wells, and then vanishing back into the sands.
"They refuse to meet him in open battle, Father," Lyra reported, her brow furrowed with concentration. "They fight like the wind, like the sand itself. The dragons… they burn empty castles, they scorch barren hills, but the Dornishmen are never where the fire falls."
This was a revelation. Aelyx had studied the Field of Fire, the burning of Harrenhal, and understood the awesome power of dragons against conventional armies and fortifications. But Dorne was presenting a different paradigm: asymmetric warfare, guerrilla tactics, a refusal to play by the conqueror's rules.
The most significant event, one that sent a tremor of grim satisfaction through Aelyx, was the fate of Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon, Meraxes. During an assault on the Hellholt, a Dornish stronghold, a lucky scorpion bolt, fired from the castle's highest tower, pierced Meraxes's eye, sending the great silver dragon and her rider crashing to their deaths. The loss of one of the three Targaryen dragons, and one of the King's sister-wives, was a catastrophic blow to Aegon, both personally and strategically. It demonstrated, unequivocally, that even dragons were not invincible.
"A single, well-aimed bolt," Aelyx mused, studying the reconstructed scene with Aenar and his weapons masters within the sanctuary. "A mundane weapon, yet it brought down a creature of immense magical power. There are lessons here for us, my son. Our own dragons, while numerous, are not invulnerable. Their riders even less so. We must factor this into our defensive doctrines, into the enchantments we weave upon their armor, upon their very scales if possible."
Aenar, now a master enchanter in his own right, his quiet intensity focused on the problem, nodded. "Perhaps layered wards upon the riders, Father, that can deflect or misdirect projectiles at extreme velocities. And for the dragons, alchemical treatments to toughen their more vulnerable areas, around the eyes and underbelly, without impeding their movement. The Dornish victory was luck, perhaps, but luck favors the prepared."
Aelyx tasked Tibbit's agents, at considerable risk, to try and glean any specific details about the scorpion that felled Meraxes – its design, its range, the nature of its bolt. He had no intention of aiding Dorne directly; such an act would be madness, risking exposure for a cause that was not his own. But knowledge, he knew, was power, and the Dornish, in their desperate defiance, were providing a masterclass in how to resist a seemingly unassailable foe.
The First Dornish War dragged on for years, a bloody, frustrating quagmire for Aegon. He unleashed Balerion and Vhagar in punitive expeditions, burning castles and towns, but the Dornish refused to yield. Princess Meria Martell famously told Aegon, "I will not fight you, but I will not kneel. Dorne has no king. Dorne will not be ruled." The Targaryens, for all their might, found themselves unable to hold the burning sands. The cost in men and resources was immense, the victories hollow. Eventually, after years of fruitless, brutal conflict, Aegon was forced to accept an uneasy, de facto peace, leaving Dorne unconquered, a venomous thorn in the side of his otherwise complete dominion.
Aelyx absorbed every detail of this protracted struggle. He noted the limitations of dragons in guerrilla warfare, their ineffectiveness against a foe who refused to offer a concentrated target. He observed the psychological toll the war took on Aegon, the frustration, the uncharacteristic rages. He saw how even a determined, united people, using their terrain and unconventional tactics, could defy a vastly superior military power.
These lessons were immediately incorporated into Skagos's own defense strategies. While Mount Skatus remained his ultimate, magically impregnable redoubt, Aelyx began to envision a layered defense for the island itself, should its secrecy ever be compromised. He tasked Maegor with training specialized Skagosi units in irregular warfare, capable of operating in the island's rugged highlands and treacherous coastal caves, designed to harass and bleed any invading force. He had Aenar develop new, subtle magical traps and illusions to be deployed across the island's perimeter, designed to confuse and misdirect, to make Skagos itself a bewildering, hostile labyrinth to any uninvited guests. The dragonriders, while practicing their devastating aerial assaults, also drilled in defensive maneuvers, in protecting vulnerable ground targets, and in countering potential anti-dragon weaponry.
While the south burned and bled, life on Skagos, at least publicly, continued its serene, prosperous course under the steady hand of Lord Torrhen Volmark. The "Heir's Hoard" gold mine continued its carefully managed "output," its wealth funding not only Skagos's internal development but also allowing Torrhen to continue his father's policy of strategic generosity towards key Northern houses. This ensured Winterfell's continued high regard for its wealthiest vassal and kept the North stable and largely insulated from the turmoils of Aegon's wars. Skagos was seen as a beacon of peace and plenty, its lord wise and benevolent, its people industrious and loyal.
Within the sanctuary, the Volmark dynasty continued to expand. Torrhen and Myranda Manderly had two more children, a son, Rickard, and a daughter, Jeyne. Visenya and Ser Bennard Karstark added a fierce daughter, Vaella, to their brood. Lyra and Howland Reed welcomed another son, Brandon, who, like his elder brother Jojen, showed early signs of powerful greensight. Maegor and Eddara Umber's halls echoed with the laughter of three more boisterous children. Aenar and Lyarra Snow had a second son, Aerion, and a daughter, Shaera. Aelyx's own younger children – Rhaenys, Aegon, and Daenys Volmark – were now young adults, each bonded to their own magnificent Skagosi-born dragons, their magical education nearing completion. Rhaenys, with her talent for illusions, became a master of deception magic. Aegon Volmark specialized in potent protective enchantments, becoming Aenar's chief assistant in warding the sanctuary. Daenys, her prophetic dreams growing ever more vivid and reliable, became, alongside Lyra, one of Aelyx's most trusted seers.
The number of Aelyx's grandchildren now approached thirty, a new generation of magically potent children whose earliest memories were of the glowing caverns, the trilling songs of phoenixes, and the warm, leathery scent of young dragons. Their education was rigorous, their loyalty to their grandfather, the ageless Shadow Lord who moved among them like a living god, absolute. They were the future, the inheritors of an eternal kingdom.
The dragon population within Mount Skatus also continued its steady, controlled growth. The original dragons were now magnificent, fully mature beasts, and their offspring, the first generations of purely Skagosi-born dragons, were reaching adolescence, their numbers approaching seventy. The logistics of housing, feeding, and managing such a vast draconic force were immense, a task that fell primarily to specialized teams of house-elves whose expertise in dragon husbandry, guided by Aelyx's Valyrian lore, was unparalleled. The mountain itself had been further hollowed out, its volcanic heart harnessed to create a network of interconnected caverns so vast they could accommodate simulated aerial battles for entire squadrons.
As the First Dornish War sputtered to its inconclusive end, and Aegon I Targaryen settled onto the Iron Throne to rule his six conquered kingdoms, Aelyx knew that a new, uneasy equilibrium had been reached in Westeros. The Targaryen dynasty was established, their dragonpower an undeniable reality. But their rule was not absolute, their authority still challenged by the defiant Dornish, their reign yet young and untested by the passage of generations.
Aelyx, from his hidden sanctuary, watched and waited, his plans unfolding across centuries, not mere decades. He had learned much from Aegon's Conquest, from the triumphs of dragonfire and the unexpected resilience of scorpions and sand. He had seen the birth of a new empire and understood its strengths and its potential frailties. His own hidden empire continued to grow, its roots sinking deeper, its magical power maturing, its secrecy an inviolable shield. The game of thrones in the south would continue, with its intrigues, its wars, its fleeting glories. Aelyx played a different game, a game for eternity, and the long, patient watch of the Shadow King had only just begun. The Targaryen dragons ruled the skies of Westeros, for now. But in the frozen north, beneath a smoking mountain, another, larger, and far more ancient fire was being patiently, silently, and eternally tended.