"A good decision, Princess Rhaenys," Thaddues said.
His voice remained calm, almost gentle, though something dangerous lay beneath it. Dareya stepped back. She could feel it in the air—a pressure that made the silence of the hall seem heavier.
Rhaenys held her head high, the pride of Old Valyria still plain upon her face. She had known dragons, war, and the intrigues of princes, yet the man standing before her commanded something altogether different. Dragonfire could burn flesh and stone, but whatever dwelled within the Wizard of Dorne seemed to reach beyond either.
"But I want an assurance, Lord Thaddues," she said, keeping her voice steady despite the cold gathering at her back.
Thaddues tilted his head. "An assurance?"
Rhaenys continued. "I want your word that you will never harm my descendants."
A low chuckle escaped him and echoed beneath the high arches. "You dare place conditions upon me?" His amusement lingered for a moment before his expression settled. "Very well. I swear that so long as your descendants give me what I ask, I shall never harm them."
A flicker of relief crossed Rhaenys' face. It lasted only a heartbeat.
Thaddues stepped closer, his dark eyes fixed upon hers. "Unless they choose to harm me."
The relief vanished.
Without a hand touching it, a dark feather quill levitated out of his enchanted pouch along with a parchment. It hovered in the air began to write, its nib scratching steadily across the page as every term of their agreement took shape in black ink. No clause was missed, and no exception was left unspoken.
"Now," Thaddues said, drawing a slender dirk from his pouch, "the magic requires blood."
He opened his left palm with the blade. Crimson blood welled from the cut, dark against his pale skin. Rhaenys hesitated only briefly before taking the dirk and drawing it across her own palm. Her blood ran bright in the cold air.
Thaddues closed his hand around hers.
Princess Dareya caught her breath as she saw golden light burst between their joined hands. Within it, thin violet strands twisted and moved like threads beneath glass, winding around their wrists before sinking into their skin. A low hum filled the chamber, felt more in the bones than heard by the ears.
Rhaenys gasped as the sensation passed through her. For an instant, it felt as though something had brushed against the very core of her being.
Thaddues guided the Soul Arts into the vow, binding it to Rhaenys' bloodline. If one of her descendants ever raised a hand against him, the magic would answer without waiting for a second oath or another spell. Their own soul would become the price, torn apart from within before they could ever strike him.
"Do you, Rhaenys Targaryen, swear that your bloodline shall yield to my demands, so long as no harm is brought upon them by my hand?"
Rhaenys swallowed, her gaze fixed upon him. "I swear it."
The golden light tightened around their hands, and the violet strands sank deeper.
"And do you accept that should they strike against me, their protection is forfeit, and their souls shall answer for that betrayal?"
For the first time, hesitation showed plainly on Rhaenys' face. She looked at the man before her, then at the blood binding them together.
"I... I accept."
The magic flared.
Light raced across their joined hands before disappearing beneath their skin. For a brief moment, a strange rune appeared upon each palm, intricate and unlike any mark Rhaenys had ever seen. Then it faded, leaving only the faintest warmth behind.
The vow was sealed.
Thaddues released Rhaenys hand and wiped the blood from his palm with a silk handkerchief. As he did, the cut closed beneath his touch, the flesh knitting together until not even a scar remained.
"Daemon will be given to you once we reach King's Landing," he said, his tone returning to that of a lord settling an ordinary bargain. "Not before. Until then, he remains under my watch."
Rhaenys flexed her fingers and stared at her unmarked palm. She could no longer see the rune, but something faint remained beneath her skin, a reminder of the oath she had just placed upon her descendants.
"He is my cousin, Lord Thaddues," she said, gathering what remained of her composure. "The King's brother. A Targaryan Prince. See that he is kept whole."
"He is as safe as his obedience allows."
There was no warmth in Thaddues answer, but neither was there any need for further threat. The terms had been spoken, the blood had been given, and the magic had accepted them.
"Prepare your dragon, Princess. We travel at first light."
Thaddues glanced at Princess Dareya and smiled before he turned and left the hallway, his dark robes sweeping behind him as he passed beneath the carved arches. Dareya remained where she was, watching him disappear into the corridors of Sunspear.
Alone in his chamber, Thaddues closed his eyes and reached inward, feeling the vast depths of his newly awakened magic. After battling the Old God's vessel he had crossed a threshold few wizards and witches ever dreamed of reaching, mastering the realm of Advanced Soul Arts. His magic had grown tremendously, its power humming within him like a star.
He opened his eyes and fixed his will upon Saltshore.
The next instant, he was gone.
A sharp crack echoed through Sunspear, like a whip splitting the air. Then there was nothing but silence where he had stood.
Far to the north, in the depths beneath Saltshore, the same sound rang through the darkness.
Thaddues appeared inside Isolde's hidden lair, his boots meeting the cold stone. The air was thick with sulfur and ash, carrying the bitter scent of smoke and scales. Beneath it lingered something stranger—a faint resonance that seemed to come from the ancient blood flowing through Isolde's veins.
"Easy, Isolde," Thaddues murmured, his voice soft as he stepped into her lair.
A colossal shape shifted in the darkness. Isolde, the magnificent sapphire dragon, let out a low, rumbling cry of pure, unadulterated excitement at the sight of him. She shifted her massive frame forward, her colossal tail sweeping against the cavern walls, causing the entire lair to shake violently as dust and loose stones rained down from above.
Thaddues smiled faintly, stepping close enough to press his bare hand against the scorched, giant scales near her snout. The warmth radiated off her like a furnace. "Easy, girl. I am here."
Thaddues was a bit shocked, Isolde is two times bigger than what she had been.
He activated analysis.
--
"Host, the dragon's name is Isolde. Age: 35. Current race: Selyrian Sapphire Dragon. Analysis complete. Her Selyrian blood has awakened and integrated into her draconic form. Height: 75 meters. Magic: Resonance-Based. Trait: Fire Immunity. Magical output exceeds standard Valyrian benchmarks. System assessment: Her potential surpasses that of any known Valyrian dragon."
--
His smiled. No wonder.
He then closed his eyes and used his mastery of Advanced Soul Arts. Projecting his magic through the ancient soul-threads he could now perceive. He sought to unravel the complex magical flaw that kept Isolde locked in her current dragon state, hoping to fix it to reverse the magic and restore her to her true, original human form.
Glowing runes of pale blue and deep silver burst into existence around his hands, flowing over Isolde's scales like liquid light. He pushed his soul arts to its absolute limit, probing deep into the dragon's spiritual matrix, trying to locate the core binding knot.
Minutes stretched into agonizing silence. The magic flared, bright and blinding, but as Thaddues reached the core, he met an immovable wall of primordial, fundamental magic—an ancient law that his current level, vast as it was, could not yet bypass.
The light flickered and died.
"How unfortunate," he spoke softly, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he caressed her rough, massive scales. Isolde nudged him gently with her snout, a low, comforting purr vibrating through her massive chest. She did not care for human forms; she only cared that he was there.
Realizing his current limits, Thaddues stepped back and focused his mind on the System's floating interface. With the preparations for the battle in Sunspear and the negotiations that had occupied the past several days, a backlog of daily sign-in rewards had accumulated, all waiting to be claimed.
He waved his hand, clearing the notifications.
Items materialized in front of him, which floated in the air. Isolde, the sapphire dragon saw it and pretended to look to another way.
Thaddues used Levitation to place the check-in rewards into his enchanted pouch. Most were ordinary rewards—flasks of high-grade Healing Draughts, vials of Pepperup Potion, rare herbs, and refined magical ores. Useful, but nothing that altered the board.
Then, among the usual rewards, something different appeared in front of his eyes.
It was a hat. Made of patched, worn, and extremely dusty leather, it looked utterly unremarkable at a glance—wrinkled, frayed at the edges, and smelling faintly of old parchment and centuries of stored thoughts.
An ancient magical aura radiated from the object, powerful enough to draw even Isolde's attention. The dragon, who had been pretending not to notice her master's unusual antics, lifted her head and turned toward him.
Thaddues reached out and took the object into his hands.
--
"Congratulations Host for receiving The Sorting Hat. An ancient, sentient artifact capable of reading the deepest desires, memories, secrets, and fears of any living soul it rests upon. Bypasses standard mental occlumency if the wearer is unawares. It is created by the four founders of Hogwarts when they established Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
--
Thaddues held the Sorting Hat up.He felt a faint pulse of thought radiating from the battered hat, as though the artifact itself were quietly aware of his presence.
--
"Do you want to use the Conversion skill to this artifact?"
--
A slow, calculating smile spread across Thaddeus' face as he declined the system.
In the treacherous, viper-filled courts of Westeros—where men hid behind masks of honor while plotting treason in the dark—this old, ragged piece of leather was a weapon far more devastating than a thousand steel blades. With this, no secret in King's Landing would remain hidden from him, though even not using his Mind Arts. He could peer directly into the minds of kings, hand of the king, and schemers alike.
He carefully tucked the hat away into his pouch, his mind wandering back to the ambitions he had when he arrived at this world.
To become the strongest and conquer death.
He thought of Princess Deria, the Peacebringer of Dorne. Who had lived before Aegon's Conquest. Her death shook him.
His dark eyes glowing with a cold, terrifying resolve. The death of Deria was a stark reminder of how dangerous this world. The song changes, the future he knew is no longer certain.
And he can feel it, her death was only the beginning. This made him resolute, he would not be ruled. Wether it was fate or destiny.
He would reach the pinnacle of magic, he would conquer death itself, and he would bend the very laws of life to his absolute will.
The morning sun broke over the golden dunes of Sunspear, casting long, sharp shadows across the stone courtyard.
A grand procession had assembled. Dareya of Sunspear stood at the head of the Dornish escort, flanked by high-ranking officials, armored spearmen, and noble lords of the realm. Their banners rippled in the warm sea breeze, displaying the blazing sun and spear of House Martell.
In the center of the courtyard sat Thaddeus' carriage—the same magnificent, dark-timbered vehicle he had arrived in. It was an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship, etched with faint, glowing runes along the wheels and chassis, radiating an air of subtle, ancient power.
Thaddues walked side by side with Merlin toward the carriage. Merlin, dressed in simple robes, held himself with the calm, quiet dignity, his bright eyes scanning the Dornish hosts with mild curiosity.
Princess Dareya stepped forward, bowing her head deeply toward Thaddues. "Your carriage is ready, Lord Thaddeus. We truly thank you for saving Sunspear. "
"Your hospitality has been... illuminating, Lady Dareya," Thaddues replied smoothly. "Ensure Dorne remembers the terms of our agreement. Peace and safety is the top priority."
"Dorne remembers," Dareya said firmly, her eyes flicking toward the massive, shadowy outline of the dragon Meleys resting on the cliffs just outside the courtyard walls.
Thaddues and Merlin climbed into the carriage. The heavy oak door clicked shut with a solid, echoing thud.
Outside, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen mounted the Red Queen. Meleys let out a sharp, piercing roar that shattered the morning silence, her crimson scales flashing brightly in the sunlight as she spread her massive wings, stirring up a tempest of sand and dust across the courtyard.
Inside the carriage, Thaddeus sat back comfortably against the cushioned seat. He flicked his fingers activating the rune magic in carriage.
"Where are we going, Lord Thaddues?" The young Merlin asked.
"Let us not keep King's Landing waiting," Thaddues murmured.
A low, harmonic hum vibrated through the structure. Outside, the Dornish guards gasped, drawing back in absolute shock and terror as the heavy wood-and-iron carriage began to rise from the stone ground.
The wheels lifted clean off the ground as the great winged horses harnessed before the carriage spread their enormous wings. With powerful beats, they pulled the carriage upward, their hooves leaving the earth as the vehicle rose with them—one foot, five feet, ten feet into the air.
The horses surged higher, their wings carrying both themselves and the carriage effortlessly into the azure sky. The dark wooden vehicle followed smoothly behind them, suspended by the enchanted harness and reins, leaving the dumbfounded Dornish gaping at the spectacle unfolding above them.
High above the cliffs, Meleys launched herself into the air with a powerful beat of her wings. The magnificent red dragon crested the thermal winds, rising up until she was flying side by side with the floating carriage.
"Thaddues be safe," Princess Dareya whispered as she held the necklace given to her by the Wizard of Dorne.
Inside the carriage, Thaddues looked out through the window. Meleys flew alongside the carriage, her enormous crimson wings beating steadily against the open sky. Seated upon the dragon's back, Princess Rhaenys held herself firmly against the fierce wind, her hair streaming behind her as her violet eyes remained fixed upon the strange sight of a heavy carriage soaring effortlessly through the clouds beside her.
Thaddues rested his chin on his hand, gazing toward the northern horizon.
The Iron Throne awaited him.
Kings had ruled from it. Dragons had fought for it. Blood had been spilled over it for generations.
But now, something far beyond crowns and dragonfire was coming.
And as his carriage vanished into the clouds, the realm unknowingly welcomed a power that would one day stand above kings, dragons, and death itself.
TBC
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