Rhaegar met the eighteen archons of Lys soon after.
They sat around a massive round table. Fredo Rogare immediately guided him to the Prince's seat directly opposite the main entrance — the single chair that split the archons into two clear factions.
On his left sat the old guard led by Valarr and Tregar Ormollen. On his right sat Fredo Rogare and the newer, merchant-backed archons.
The divide was obvious. The old archons looked down on the new ones.
Rhaegar's supporters were the right side. He had quietly funded the Rogare family and pulled several more merchant archons into his corner. Most of them were bankers, traders, and slave owners who preferred peace and profit over war.
"Prince, have you heard the rumors about the Smoking Sea?" Tregar Ormollen asked directly.
He still called Rhaegar "Prince" because of his Targaryen blood and former titles — Prince of Dragonstone and Summerhall — not because he had officially become Prince of Lys yet. He didn't call him "Your Grace" either. The Triarchy still refused to recognize Rhaegar's claim as "King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea."
Rhaegar swept his gaze across the left side and didn't bother pretending he hadn't heard.
"Prince, we are truly pleased to have you join Lys," Tregar continued, playing the polite merchant first. "After much discussion, we have two proposals for you. We hope you'll find them acceptable."
The title of Prince of Lys hadn't been officially granted yet. The sticking point was power.
Rhaegar had no intention of becoming a puppet like the Prince of Pentos. The Lysene archons had no interest in creating another Silverhand-style tyrant either.
Both sides were still negotiating the terms.
When Rhaegar stayed silent, Valarr spoke slowly. "We cannot confirm whether the rumors of a dragon in the Smoking Sea are true."
"But a group of Qohorik merchants definitely has a dragon egg in their possession."
Rhaegar returned to his residence with his mind racing.
"My prince, I don't think Governor Valarr's offer is bad," Fredo said as he followed him inside. He wasn't even pretending to be subtle anymore.
Moments earlier, the Lysene archons had given Rhaegar two clear choices regarding the Qohorik merchants and the dragon egg:
Option One: Lys would pay and provide men to buy the egg for him.
In exchange, Rhaegar would disband every armed force except his Silver Guard and settle into the role of Prince of Lys — a figurehead.
They were trying to turn him into a powerless puppet with one dragon egg.
Option Two: Lys would give him the information. Rhaegar would go himself to buy the egg.
He could keep his forces. If he succeeded, he would still become Prince of Lys.
The problem? That egg would be insanely expensive — far beyond what Rhaegar could afford. And the Qohorik merchants were slippery. They had only been spotted once in Volantis before disappearing again.
Fredo pressed on. "My prince, the right faction worked hard to get you this negotiation. Valarr's second option is clearly meant to push you out of Lys and destroy the peace we've fought so hard for."
Rhaegar and the Triarchy had been at war for five years. Bad blood ran deep.
Valarr and the old archons were never going to accept him as one of their own. This was just a polite way of telling him to either submit or get lost.
"I need a moment alone, Fredo."
Rhaegar finally spoke.
Fredo opened his mouth, then closed it. He knew he couldn't change the prince's mind. He turned and left the study.
Rhaegar picked up a copy of Notes on the Valyrian Peninsula and started reading, using the familiar task to calm his thoughts.
Thud.
Once the door closed, footsteps came down the spiral staircase from the second floor.
A tall woman with eastern features appeared. She wore simple gray robes, had long black hair, and a small teardrop-shaped mole near the corner of her right eye that made her cheekbones look sharper.
She was a red priestess of the Lord of Light and had helped the Yi Ti healer treat Lyanna.
"I saw something in the flames," she said, her voice hoarse from old injuries when she had been a slave in a temple of R'hllor. "An explosion in a land covered by smoke."
Rhaegar kept reading, completely focused.
He had already made his decision. He didn't need outside advice.
Sara Kin was used to being ignored. She stayed quiet for a moment, then added one last line before leaving.
"Dragons have three heads. You may yet be one of them."
Rhaegar's fingers tightened on the book. His usual melancholic expression almost cracked.
That prophecy had haunted him for years.
Because of it, he had taken two wives and fathered three children. He had even named them Rhaenys, Aegon, and Visenya.
And in the end, it had all come to nothing.
"If the rumors about a dragon in the Smoking Sea are true… this is an opportunity."
Rhaegar forced his emotions down and focused on the map of the Valyrian peninsula in the book.
He would go to the Smoking Sea himself.
Find the rumored dragon.
And while he was at it, take that dragon egg from the Qohorik merchants.
At the same time, the rumor of a possible dragon in the Smoking Sea was spreading fast across the Summer Sea.
Rhaegar wanted the dragon. The Lysene wanted it. Volantis, Slaver's Bay, and every city near the Smoking Sea had launched expeditions.
Dragons were simply too powerful.
For years they had either been extinct or tightly controlled by House Targaryen.
Now a completely wild dragon had appeared — one outside Targaryen control — and the entire east was losing its mind.
False dragonlords were pouring out of every port.
King's Landing.
Daeron was living his best life — eating, sleeping, and occasionally beating his lazy little brother.
Viserys really was asking for it.
Skip two days and he started slacking. Skip three and he forgot who was in charge.
"The wild dragon on the eastern coast stole more sheep from the Dragonstone shepherds again. The Dragon Guards paid compensation."
Daeron flipped through a book titled The Lands of the Long Summer. It was a rare edition printed in Oldtown.
Ever since the dream, he had been quietly collecting every scrap of information he could find about old Valyria.
Two of his most loyal advisors stood nearby.
"Littlefinger" Petyr wore his usual oily smile. "The Dragon Guards on Dragonstone are doing their duty. A few sheep are easy to replace."
"The problem isn't the sheep, Lord Petyr," Varys said with a frown. "We just need to make sure the wild dragon doesn't hurt any people."
"Those incidents have never happened," Petyr replied confidently.
Varys nodded. He couldn't argue with that.
The dragons on Dragonstone were well-behaved. With the Dragon Guards watching them, the worst that ever happened was a few lost sheep.
Dragons generally stayed hidden and didn't attack without reason.
Which brought them back to the Smoking Sea rumors.
Varys's expression turned serious. "Your Grace, the rumors have spread. Even Lys knows about them and is already moving in secret."
Daeron stopped flipping pages. "Any word on Rhaegar?"
"Rhaegar made some kind of deal with the Lysene archons. He's preparing to set sail."
Varys didn't dare hide anything. "But the exact terms of the agreement are still unknown."
Daeron could guess. It had to involve power and the Smoking Sea.
Rhaegar wanted to become the master of Lys.
With his current resources, that wasn't going to happen.
The fastest way to change that? Find a dragon and become a dragonrider.
"Do we need to stop him quietly?" Petyr asked, fishing for a reaction.
Daeron didn't even need to answer. Varys gave Petyr a strange look, clearly questioning his intelligence.
Did this man not understand?
The Smoking Sea had become the new Stepstones. Half the Summer Sea was already heading there. Stopping one Rhaegar wouldn't stop everyone else.
Daeron waved a hand. "I already sent word to Victarion. He'll take the Iron Fleet into the Summer Sea to gather information."
The Smoking Sea was dangerous, but the crown couldn't just sit and watch.
The royal fleet was stretched thin — some ships guarded the throat of Blackwater Bay, others kept order in the Stepstones and Tyrosh.
The one fleet Daeron could move freely was the Iron Fleet of the Iron Islands.
That meant asking his Governor of the Iron Islands, Victarion Greyjoy, for help.
With Victarion's skills, he could act with some independence.
"Speaking of the Iron Fleet," Varys said casually, "my little birds tell me the Redwyne fleet has been active lately."
Daeron raised an eyebrow. What could House Redwyne possibly be up to?
Petyr smiled knowingly. "I know this one. Lady Olenna is preparing to sail to King's Landing to visit Lord Mace and her grandson Willas."
Daeron hadn't seen the old woman in a long time. "How soon will she arrive?"
"The Redwyne ships are fast. She should be here any day now."
Petyr's information wasn't as sharp as Varys's, so he kept it vague.
Daeron nodded and turned back to Varys. "Keep a close eye on the Smoking Sea. The moment there's any confirmed news about a wild dragon or dragon eggs, I want to know immediately."
He paused, then added, "Also look into Gerion Lannister. His last message said he went missing near the Smoking Sea. It's very possible the Valyrians ambushed him."
Varys bowed. "At once, Your Grace."
Gerion's report had been important — not just because he confirmed the dragon rumor, but because he had claimed the Laughing Lion carried six dragon eggs.
Those six eggs were what Daeron really cared about.
Meanwhile, far away in Tyrosh, Tywin was still burning with rage over his youngest brother being ambushed and possibly dead.
The entire Lannister family was hunting for information on Gerion's whereabouts.
If the Small Council hadn't been holding him back, Tywin would have already marched on Volantis.
"Lord Tywin still hasn't given up on causing trouble for Volantis," Petyr said, slipping the comment in.
Daeron didn't care.
As long as Tywin wasn't acting in the name of the Iron Throne, he could burn through every last Lannister coin for all Daeron cared.
Olenna Tyrell arrived sooner than expected.
She stepped off her ship at Mud Gate with crates of goods, showing off the wealth of House Tyrell.
Her first order of business was to visit the king.
"Your Grace, it's been two years. You've only grown more handsome."
Lady Olenna still had the same sharp, unpleasant face. Even her compliments sounded like backhanded insults.
Daeron smiled politely. "Lady Olenna. Welcome back to King's Landing."
She studied him with those clever old eyes, clearly trying to read what had changed since she left.
The game was back on.