Strengthening Ties
Chapter 21: Strengthening Ties
The Riverlands stretched out beneath Lucerys as he soared through the crisp, autumn air. The cold bite of the wind swept across his face, but his body felt alive atop Arrax. The pale dragon’s wings cut through the sky with an elegance that belied his immense power. Strapped securely to Lucerys’s chest, a baby slept soundly in the harness, undisturbed by the rhythmic rise and fall of flight.
Lucerys’s thoughts churned as he neared the seat of House Bracken. He knew Otto Hightower had likely begun courting the Riverlords, seeking to bolster support for the Greens. His arrival, then, was a calculated move—not only to disrupt Otto’s plans but to ensure that House Bracken, one of the more ambitious houses of the region, remembered where their true loyalties should lie.
The air was crisp and biting as Lucerys descended upon the Bracken keep, Arrax’s great wings stirring up a whirlwind of dust and debris. The dragon’s shadow loomed over the courtyard, casting an ominous pall that silenced all activity. Servants froze in their tracks, while Lord Amos Bracken emerged from the hall with a carefully measured expression, his gaze flickering nervously between the young prince and the pale dragon.
Lucerys dismounted gracefully, the leather harness across his chest bearing a small, sleeping bundle. He adjusted the straps gently, patting the baby’s back before stepping forward with a disarming smile. “Lord Bracken,” he said smoothly, “thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”
The lord dipped his head, his voice strained but polite. “Prince Lucerys, you honor us with your presence.” His eyes darted to the child strapped to Lucerys’s chest, brows furrowing in confusion. “Might I ask—?”
Before he could finish, a curious voice interrupted. “Is that a baby?”
The courtyard’s atmosphere shifted as Aron Blackwood, a precocious four-year-old, stepped forward, clutching a wooden sword. His large, inquisitive eyes fixated on the bundle nestled against Lucerys.
Lucerys crouched slightly to meet the boy’s gaze, his expression softening. “Yes,” he said, gesturing to the child, “He’s your new friend. You’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
Aron’s face lit up with innocent delight. “Really? Is he coming to live here?”
Lucerys chuckled, a hint of steel beneath the warmth of his tone. “Not quite. You, Aron, will be coming with us. To Dragonstone.”
He handed a rolled parchment to Lord Amos, who took it with trembling fingers.
The lord began to unroll it, his face reddening as he scanned its contents. “Prince Lucerys, with all due respect—”
“You have twenty minutes,” Lucerys interrupted smoothly, “to pack a few of Aron’s necessities. Anything else you wish to send can follow later. But we’ll leave before the sun sets.”
Amos stepped forward, his voice rising in desperation. “You cannot simply take my son without—”
Lucerys turned sharply to face him, his smile as sharp as a blade. “I can and I will.”
A stunned silence fell over the courtyard. Lord Bracken’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before he managed to stammer, “You mean to take my son? Without notice or—”
Lucerys cut him off smoothly, his tone unwavering. “Precisely. I suggest you pack lightly—just the essentials for a boy his age. You can send anything else you think he might need at a later time.”
Lord Bracken bristled, his face darkening as he took a step forward. “Prince Lucerys, with all due respect, this is highly irregular. Surely, there’s—”
The sharp, earth-shaking roar of Arrax cut through the lord’s protest, reverberating through the courtyard. The dragon launched into the air, circling once before landing atop the keep’s tallest tower. Loose stones crumbled and tumbled to the ground, eliciting gasps and cries from the gathered crowd.
Lucerys didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned his gaze to Lord Bracken, his smile now edged with menace. “I would hate for nightfall to delay our journey,” he said evenly. “Visibility over the sea can be treacherous, and I’d rather not risk losing my new charge.”
Lord Bracken paled, his lips pressing into a thin line. He turned sharply to a group of servants and barked, “Pack a bag for Aron. Quickly!”
As the servants scattered, Aron came closer. “What’s his name?” Aron asked, pointing to the sleeping baby.
“Samson,” Lucerys said softly. Lucerys crouched, addressing Aron directly.
Amos froze mid-read, his eyes narrowing as he studied the infant. His breath hitched. “That… that’s the Blackwood heir,” he whispered, horror creeping into his voice.
Lucerys didn’t bother to deny it, his calm smile unwavering. “You’ll find all the details in the agreement,” he said, gesturing to the parchment. “This is a fostering, nothing more. But Samson and Aron will grow up together under my family’s protection, ensuring bonds are forged that will serve all our houses well in the years to come.”
Amos’s hands trembled as he clutched the document, his protest silenced by the calculated glint in Lucerys’s eyes. “Time is wasting,” Lucerys reminded him.
Arrax roared again, and Amos hastily waved his servants forward. Lucerys turned his attention back to Aron, his expression softening. “Don’t worry, Aron. Samson will need a friend like you. And together, you’ll both grow strong on Dragonstone.”
Aron nodded hesitantly, his small hand reaching out to touch Samson’s tiny fingers. Lucerys smirked faintly. The boy’s curiosity and innocence would serve him well in the years to come—and ensure his loyalty.
Bracken opened his mouth to object, but Arrax released another guttural roar, sending a shiver through everyone present. The dragon descended to the courtyard once more landing behind Lucerys. The message was clear: resistance was futile.
Moments later, Aron’s small pack was thrust into Lucerys’s waiting hands. He nodded in approval, securing the boy’s things before gesturing for Aron to follow him. “Come along, Aron. Arrax is waiting.”
The child hesitated, glancing at his father, but Lord Bracken’s grim expression offered no comfort. Finally, Aron scampered after Lucerys, who helped him onto Arrax’s saddle with practiced ease. Once both children were secure, Luke gave the signal to fly.
As the dragon took flight, Lucerys glanced back at the shrinking figure of Lord Bracken, his smirk returning. “Goodbye, Lord Bracken. I trust you’ll find this arrangement… beneficial.”
The dragon’s wings carried them higher, the keep disappearing below as Lucerys steeled himself for the long flight ahead. Behind him, Aron clung to the saddle, his wide eyes sparkling with equal parts fear and excitement.
“Welcome to the game, little one,” Lucerys murmured under his breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I’ll teach you how to win it.”
*************************
In the solar on Dragonstone, Rhaenyra and Laenor sat at the table reviewing a map while Rhaenys and Corlys shared a knowing glance across the room. Laena and her daughters were seated near the hearth cooing at the babies in a shared cot. Jacaerys leaned against the edge of a table, fiddling idly with a dagger, his gaze distant but attentive.
The heavy doors swung open with a gust of sea-salted air, and Lucerys strode in, a wide grin plastered across his face. Arrax’s flights had left his cheeks ruddy, his hair windswept. He carried a sleeping baby strapped securely to his chest in the now-familiar harness, while a nervous-looking Aron Bracken trailed behind him, clutching a small satchel.
“I’m home!” Lucerys announced brightly, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the room. “And I brought presents!”
Jacaerys looked up, his brows furrowing in exasperation. “Oh, I see it went well,” he said, his tone half-sarcastic, half-resigned.
Rhaenyra straightened in her seat, her eyes narrowing. “Lucerys,” she said slowly, her tone teetering between confusion and suspicion, “what exactly have you brought home?”
Laenor, crossing the room with a mixture of curiosity and growing alarm, gestured vaguely at the boys. “Who are they, and why do they look like they’ve been kidnapped?”
“Allow me to introduce,” Lucerys began grandly, patting the sleeping baby strapped to him, “Samson Blackwood! And this,” he gestured to the older boy, “is Aron Bracken. Say hello, Aron!”
Aron, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, blinked at the room and muttered a soft, “Hello.”
A stunned silence followed his words. Rhaenyra’s mouth opened, then closed, as if searching for words. Laenor looked between the two boys and then at Lucerys, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm.
“Lucerys Velaryon,” Laena began, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears, “did you… did you kidnap the heirs of two Riverland houses?”
“It’s not kidnapping,” Lucerys said, his tone maddeningly casual as he waved a hand. “It’s fostering. Very traditional.”
“Without their parents’ consent?” Rhaenyra’s voice was sharp, her disbelief palpable. “Do you realize the political ramifications of this?”
“They’ll come around,” Lucerys said confidently, moving to unstrap Samson from his harness and gently settling him into a nearby cradle. “The Brackens and Blackwoods have been at each other’s throats for generations. This way, their heirs grow up together, under our influence, ensuring their loyalty to the us. It’s strategic.”
Laenor groaned, running a hand down his face. “Strategic?” he muttered. “It’s insanity.”
“Insanity with a dragon,” Rhaenys quipped, her smirk curling at the edges. “A very Daemon approach, I must say.”
Lucerys grinned at his grandmother. “Thank you, Grandmother. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You would,” Rhaena muttered under her breath, exchanging a look with her twin.
Corlys, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, his tone grave. “Lucerys, if you think the Brackens and Blackwoods will simply accept this, you underestimate their pride. This could push them into rebellion.”
Lucerys met his grandfather’s gaze, his smile fading into a more serious expression. “With respect, Grandfather, they won’t rebel. The Brackens are too afraid of Arrax to risk it, and the Blackwoods… well, their heir is safe here with me. They’ll see the wisdom in this eventually.”
“That’s a gamble,” Laenor muttered, still shaking his head.
“One worth taking,” Lucerys said firmly, his youthful confidence unshaken.
Rhaenys, who had been watching quietly, let out a low chuckle, a smirk curling her lips. “Daemon would be so proud,” she remarked. “He’s clearly passed his sense of diplomacy down to you, Lucerys.”
“This isn’t funny!” Rhaenyra snapped, though her tone wavered between shock and disbelief. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Lucerys tilted his head, as if surprised by their reaction. “I’ve ensured their loyalty. Samson and Aron are safe here, under our protection. Their families will think twice about siding with the Greens if their heirs are with us.”
“Lucerys,” Laenor said, his voice tight, “the Brackens and Blackwoods are proud houses. They won’t take kindly to this… fostering without consent.”
“They won’t have a choice,” Lucerys countered, his tone resolute. “Otto Hightower has been sniffing around the Riverlands. With the Strongs already on our side, removing these heirs from their grasp means fewer bannermen for the Greens to call upon.”
“Fewer bannermen, yes,” Corlys interjected, his voice calm but laced with warning. “But it also creates enemies we cannot afford.”
“Or,” Lucerys said, his tone lightening, “it creates future allies. Samson and Aron will grow up here. They’ll learn to see us as family, not enemies.”
“You’re reckless,” Rhaenyra said, pressing a hand to her temple. “You don’t understand the ramifications of this—”
“I understand perfectly,” Lucerys interrupted. “The Greens aren’t playing fair. Why should we? Otto Hightower won’t hesitate to use any means to win this war. Why should we hold back?”
The room fell silent again, the tension palpable.
Rhaenyra took a deep breath, visibly restraining herself. “Lucerys, you cannot just… walk into people’s keeps and take their children.”
“Why not? They practically handed them over,” Lucerys said with a shrug. “Arrax was very persuasive.”
“I bet he was,” Laena muttered, rolling her eyes.
Laenor shook his head, muttering, “We’re going to need more wine.”
Rhaenyra threw up her hands, clearly done with the conversation. “I give up. If this blows up in our faces, it’s on you.”
Lucerys smiled brightly, “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ve got everything under control.”
“I’m sure you do,” Rhaenyra muttered under her breath, though her tone suggested she believed anything but.
The room descended into uneasy silence, save for the occasional coos from the babies. Rhaenys broke it with a chuckle, shaking her head. “You know,” she said, her voice light with amusement, “Daemon might just throw a feast when he hears about this. Though, I wouldn’t let him plan it. The guest list might get… complicated.”
“Daemon would call this a stroke of brilliance.” Laena said.
“Or madness,” Laenor muttered under his breath.
“Madness and brilliance are often one and the same,” Rhaenys quipped, her smirk deepening.
Baela, who had been quiet until now, crossed her arms and smirked. “I think he’s just trying to one-up Jace’s recovery story. Swordplay is impressive, but dragon-backed diplomacy? That’s another level.”
Jacaerys groaned. “This isn’t a contest, Baela.”
“Of course it’s not,” Lucerys said with mock solemnity. “Because I’ve already won.”
Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, her anger slowly giving way to reluctant acceptance. “Lucerys, this is reckless, even for you. But you’re right about one thing—this move strengthens our position in the Riverlands. Just… don’t make a habit of surprising us like this.”
Lucerys bowed his head. “Noted, Mother. Next time, I’ll bring home three children.”
Laena groaned audibly, and Rhaenys laughed, a sharp, knowing sound. “The blood of the dragon runs hot in that one,” she said, her tone amused. “You’d do well to keep an eye on him, Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra sighed, her gaze softening as she looked at her second son. “Oh, I’ll keep an eye on him. The question is, will the rest of the realm survive him?”
Lucerys smirked, his confidence unshaken. “They’ll survive, Mother. They’ll just learn to listen.”
Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head but saying nothing further. The room settled into uneasy acceptance, the weight of Lucerys’s actions hanging heavy. Whether they would prove to be a masterstroke or a disaster remained to be seen.