Chapter 13: The Dragon's Price and the Hatchling's Promise
The years following the momentous alliance between House Vaerion and House Sylvaen were a period of intense focus and quiet anticipation for Valerius, cloaked in the formidable guise of Lord Maelys Vaerion. The primary fruit of this union, beyond the immediate political and economic benefits, was the impending birth of Valarr and Lyraenys's first child – an event Valerius viewed with the dispassionate yet keenly interested gaze of a master artisan awaiting the firing of a crucial new piece. This child would carry the meticulously sculpted Vaerion blood, infused with generations of his will and magical enhancements, now directly interwoven with the ancient, potent dragon lineage of the Sylvaens.
It was understood, as part of the complex marriage agreements and the unspoken price of House Vaerion's elevation, that House Sylvaen would provide a dragon egg from their purest ancestral stock for Valarr and Lyraenys's firstborn, should the child prove worthy in the eyes of the old gods and the deep magic of their blood. This was the true jewel of the alliance: the reintroduction of true dragon blood into the main Vaerion line after millennia of absence. Lord Aerion's long-ago lament to a young Rhaelor – "Our line… our line once did [have dragons]. Ages ago." – had echoed through Valerius's subsequent incarnations. While House Vaerion, through their mastery of Ignis Chalybs and geothermal energies, had succeeded in breeding formidable fire-drakes and winged reptilian beasts like Valarr's own mount, Ignis – creatures of immense power and loyalty that served as their current "Vaerion dragons" – these were ultimately products of sophisticated sorcery, not the inheritors of the ancient bond between Valyrian blood and the true dragons of legend. The Sylvaen alliance was to bridge that gap, to reclaim that birthright.
Lyraenys Sylvaen, now Lady Vaerion through her marriage to Valarr, carried her pregnancy with the fierce grace of her lineage. Her bronze dragon, Auraxon, a magnificent true dragon whose presence at the Vaerion mountain stronghold was a constant reminder of the Sylvaen prestige, seemed unusually watchful over her. Valerius (as Maelys) observed his daughter-in-law with calculated approval. Her spirited independence was now channeled into a protective devotion to her unborn child and a growing, if sometimes wary, respect for the power and intricate workings of House Vaerion. She and Valarr, under Valerius's subtle guidance, had forged a strong partnership, their differing strengths – Valarr's fiery ambition and strategic mind, Lyraenys's intuitive wisdom and connection to natural magic – creating a potent synergy.
The birth took place in a specially prepared chamber within the Vaerion stronghold, warded by Maelys himself with layers of ancient glyphs and telluric energies. Elaena, her age now profound but her seer's insight undiminished, presided alongside Lyraenys's own Sylvaen healers. When the child, a son, finally drew his first breath, a healthy, robust infant with a shock of silver-gold hair and eyes that, when they flickered open, held the deep violet of the prime Vaerion line, a palpable wave of magical energy pulsed through the chamber.
Valerius, present as the proud grandfather Lord Maelys, felt it keenly – the vibrant resonance of two powerful bloodlines merging, amplified by his own centuries of Sanguine Harmonic manipulations. This child was… exceptional.
He was named Aegon Vaerion, a name resonant with ancient kingly power, a name chosen by Valerius to signify the new era this birth heralded for their House.
A week later, as tradition dictated, a delegation from House Sylvaen arrived, led by Lord Corvin himself, his demeanor now one of acknowledged alliance rather than grudging acceptance. With them, they brought their most precious gift: a single dragon egg. It was large, even for a dragon egg, its surface a swirl of deep forest green and molten bronze, colors reminiscent of Lyraenys's dragon Auraxon and the ancient woods of Sylvaenwood. It pulsed with a faint inner warmth and a powerful, dormant life force.
"An egg from Auraxon's own grand-dam's line," Lord Corvin announced, his voice gruff with emotion as the egg was presented on a cushion of deep green velvet. "May it hatch a dragon worthy of the combined strength of our Houses, a beast of fire and forest, to serve your son, Aegon Vaerion, and bring glory to our allied blood."
This was the moment Valerius had meticulously planned for over decades, across lifetimes. The reintroduction of true dragons, bound to his direct lineage, was a cornerstone of his strategy to elevate House Vaerion to the absolute zenith of power and ensure its survival through the distant Doom.
The egg was placed in Aegon's cradle, according to ancient Valyrian custom. Valerius watched with an unblinking, predatory focus. The infant Aegon, sensing the warmth and the immense dormant power so close to him, stirred, his tiny hand reaching out, brushing against the cool, smooth shell.
For several days, the egg remained inert, though its inner warmth seemed to intensify. Valerius, along with Valarr and Lyraenys, maintained a constant vigil. He subtly channeled minute streams of geothermal energy towards the cradle, coaxing the life within the egg, reinforcing the nascent bond between dragon and child with his own immense will, a whisper of blood magic almost too subtle to detect.
On the seventh day, the first crack appeared on the egg's surface. A collective gasp went through the chamber. Slowly, painstakingly, the hatchling began to break free. What emerged was not a scaled beast of immediate terror, but a creature of breathtaking, almost ethereal beauty. Its scales shimmered with the same deep forest green and molten bronze as its egg, its eyes, when they opened, were like chips of ancient amber, intelligent and piercing. It was small, no larger than a house cat, but the power radiating from it, the innate connection to the deep magic of Valyria, was undeniable. This was a true dragon, a scion of an ancient and potent line.
The hatchling, after shaking off the last remnants of its shell, turned its gaze directly upon the infant Aegon. It let out a small, high-pitched chirp, a sound that was surprisingly melodic, and nudged Aegon's hand with its snout. Aegon gurgled, his violet eyes locking with the dragon's amber stare. A bond, ancient and profound, was forged in that instant – a bond that Valerius felt resonate through his own blood, a triumphant affirmation of his long-laid plans.
The dragon was named Veridian, for its forest-green scales. The news of a true Sylvaen dragon hatching for a Vaerion heir sent ripples of astonishment and renewed respect throughout the Valyrian Freehold. House Vaerion, already a formidable power, had now unequivocally reclaimed its ancient Dragonlord heritage, silencing any lingering doubts about their status. Their "engineered" fire-drakes and Valarr's mount Ignis were impressive, but Veridian represented something far more profound: the rejoining of their line with the primal magic of Valyria's most potent creatures.
Valerius (as Maelys) used this event to further consolidate House Vaerion's position. He hosted a magnificent feast, inviting lords from many prominent families, showcasing the hatchling Veridian alongside the infant Aegon, a potent symbol of Vaerion's resurgent power and future promise. He was gracious, statesmanlike, yet beneath the veneer of celebration, his ancient mind was already calculating the next series of moves.
Aegon, with his dragon Veridian, would be a formidable future vessel, should Valarr prove unsuitable or meet an untimely end. The Sylvaen blood also introduced new genetic variables, new magical affinities that Valerius would meticulously study and cultivate in future generations. Lyraenys, now mother to a dragon-bonded heir, gained even greater status within House Vaerion and in her dealings with her own natal family, strengthening the alliance.
Lord Maelys Vaerion was now in his early fifties. His current vessel was strong, his intellect and magical abilities at their peak within this incarnation. The successful reintroduction of true dragons was a significant milestone, but it was only one step in a journey that spanned millennia. His gaze remained fixed on the distant future, on the eventual Doom his visions had foretold, and on the even more distant, shimmering prize of godhood.
He continued his deep magical research in the hidden sanctum, seeking to unravel the ultimate secrets of soul manipulation and the fundamental energies of creation. The "Genius Loci" he had awakened within the Vaerion lands had matured into a powerful, sentient guardian, an extension of his will that managed the intricate network of geothermal energies and arcane defenses with silent, unwavering efficiency.
His network of agents across the Freehold fed him a constant stream of intelligence. The great Dragonlord families continued their decadent games of power, their rivalries growing more bitter, their magical experiments more reckless. The slave revolts in the eastern colonies were becoming more frequent, more organized, suppressed with ever-increasing brutality – symptoms of a deep-seated sickness within the heart of the empire. Valerius observed it all, cataloging the weaknesses, identifying the pressure points, formulating contingencies.
His son Valarr was being prepared for the eventual transition. Valerius intensified his tutelage, imparting not just power and knowledge, but the philosophical detachment, the cosmic perspective necessary to wield the ancient soul he would one day inherit. Valarr, fiercely loyal and ambitious, absorbed it all, unaware of the true nature of his ultimate destiny.
To Valerius, individuals – even his own children and grandchildren – were but beautifully crafted, essential components in the grand, timeless machine of his ascent. Aegon was the newest, most promising component, his dragon Veridian a symbol of a new era of Vaerion power.
The hatchling's promise was not just for Aegon, nor just for House Vaerion. It was a promise Valerius made to himself – a promise of continued evolution, of ever-greater power, of an undying will moving inexorably towards a destiny of his own making, a destiny that would outlast the dragons, the mountains, and perhaps even the stars themselves. The price of this ambition, paid in consumed souls and manipulated lives across a thousand years, was, in his ancient calculus, a trifle compared to the prize.