A month slipped by in a blur.
Daeron timed it perfectly and threw a full-moon feast for his firstborn son. The Red Keep hosted a massive celebration that day. More than half the great lords of the Seven Kingdoms showed up early, eager to lay eyes on the realm's future heir.
Daeron was in the middle of showing off the baby when two Dragon Guards found him in the hall.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Tessarion laid eggs."
One of the guards kept his voice low, face serious.
Daeron's eyes lit up. "How many?"
"Six," the guard answered.
Daeron grinned wide and gave his son's little butt a proud pat.
"That's my boy."
The two Dragon Guards straightened up, chests puffed out with pride.
Tessarion had been sluggish and listless for weeks, right around the time Shaena's due date came early. The eight hundred Dragon Guards Daeron had trained were still green when it came to actually caring for dragons. It took Maester Aemon digging into old Citadel records from the reign of Aegon the Third—the time when maesters were allowed to observe the dragons up close—to figure out what was happening.
Tessarion had been ready to lay.
The timing couldn't have been better. Right on the day of Inar's full-moon feast, she dropped a full clutch.
"Jaehaerys, take your nephew to Shaena."
Daeron shoved the baby into his brother's arms and headed for the door without waiting.
Jaehaerys blinked. "Wait—what?"
"Tessarion laid eggs."
Daeron tossed the words over his shoulder and kept walking.
Jaehaerys's face lit up. He spun around, looking for his sister in the crowd so they could both head down to the dragon pit.
For the current Targaryen family, dragons weren't rare anymore. Dragon eggs weren't rare either.
But a dragon that could actually lay eggs? That was priceless.
Up until now every egg in the family had come from Daeron scrounging through old battlefields, digging through Dragonmont, or trading with foreigners. Some were leftovers from the Dance, some dug out of the mountain, some recovered from across the sea. Even Rhaegar had brought two back from the Smoking Sea.
All of them were old. Most had turned to stone.
These six eggs Tessarion had just laid were fresh. Brand new. The first real clutch of the new age.
"Finally," Jaehaerys muttered, grinning so hard his face hurt. "The family doesn't have to worry about dragons dying out anymore."
Tessarion producing eggs meant the cycle was complete again. Just like before the Dance. Dragons could lay on Dragonstone, hatch more young, and store living eggs in reserve. The shadow of extinction was finally gone.
Daeron reached the lower nesting chamber in the dragon pit and saw the Dragon Guards standing around a pile of steaming, foul-smelling dragon dung with torches raised.
He'd seen dried dragon dung before on Dragonstone. That was how they'd found Toothless's clutch.
"Your Grace."
Jacaerys led him forward, face grim.
They'd already broken open several piles. One of them had split open to reveal six gleaming, scaled eggs nestled inside what looked like an oval stone.
Purple. Blue. Red. Green with white stripes.
All different colors.
Daeron crouched down without hesitation and lifted one of the eggs—an emerald-green one streaked with white. Warm, sticky fluid stretched between his fingers and the shell. It smelled faintly of sulfur and milk.
Jacaerys was already there with a shoulder bag.
Daeron carefully loaded all six eggs into it, smiling like he'd just won the biggest harvest of his life.
"Six eggs. Six perfect eggs."
He stood and handed the bag to Jacaerys.
"Three stay here in the greenhouse under the pit. Three go to Dragonstone. Handle them like they're made of glass."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Jacaerys picked his best men and left immediately.
Daeron turned toward the deeper part of the nest. "I'm going to check on Tessarion. She did good."
Dragons got moody and aggressive around laying time. Tessarion was probably curled up in the back, enjoying the quiet.
She lifted her head the moment she caught his scent, vertical pupils narrowing.
"Hiss-graa?"
Daeron walked up and wrapped his arms around her long neck, pressing his cheek against the warm cobalt scales.
She'd grown so much.
Roughly twenty-six to twenty-eight meters long now. Wingspan easily over fifty when spread. Sleek, elegant build. Cobalt-blue scales mixed with copper highlights that caught the torchlight like polished metal.
"Tessarion," he said softly. "My good girl's a queen now."
She made a low, pleased rumble and slowly coiled her neck around him, resting her head against his chest with a contented huff.
Daeron stayed there a while, just holding her.
Of the three dragons he'd hatched himself, Caraxes had always been the closest to him. But Tessarion—the one everyone had started calling the Blue Queen—had always been his favorite to spoil. That was why he'd given her to Shaena instead of keeping her for himself.
Now she really was the Blue Queen.
---
Afternoon
Shaena took little Inar down to the dragon pit to visit Tessarion. She picked one of the fresh eggs and asked for it to be placed in the baby's cradle.
Old traditions. Some things were worth bringing back.
Daeron didn't push for it or against it. If the egg hatched, great—another dragon for the family and a companion for his son from the start. If it didn't, there was still Sunfyre, the young gold dragon growing on Dragonstone. He already had plans in place.
"You go on ahead," Shaena told him after a while. "Inar and I are going to stay with Tessarion a little longer."
Daeron caught the look in her eyes. She was a terrible liar when she was trying to hide something. He gave the Dragon Guards a subtle signal to give her space and headed back to the Red Keep alone.
The feast was still going strong. Lords and ladies were actually enjoying themselves for once. Under Aerys they would've been tense. Even in Daeron's early years most of them had been cautious and noncommittal.
But Daeron had moved fast and hit hard. He'd merged and split the old kingdoms, conquered the Stepstones, taken the Triarchy cities. When your opponent was strong, you could still resist. When your opponent was strong enough to feel like something out of legend, you eventually just accepted it.
The great houses had decided being on the winning side was easier than fighting it. Now that the young king finally had an heir, they were genuinely happy about it.
Daeron slipped away from the noise and headed upstairs to the council chamber for a moment of quiet.
He'd barely sat down when someone knocked.
Tywin stood in the doorway, sharp-eyed as ever.
"Your Grace. While you have a moment, the Small Council has something that needs your attention."
"Come in."
Daeron could already smell the politics.
Tywin took his usual seat without waiting for permission.
"Reliable sources say Lord Lucerys has been skimming funds, abusing blood magic to produce those secret wind-rider sails, and secretly contacting nobles in Qohor. The list of crimes is long."
Daeron stared at him.
He knew Tywin hated the Velaryons and had been waiting for an opening. But this was a full broadside.
"You're saying he's been using blood magic?"
"My information is solid," Tywin said calmly. "Lord Lucerys is on his way back from patrol. Once he returns to King's Landing you can have Varys look into it."
Daeron didn't fully believe it. He knew how dirty Tywin could play when he wanted someone gone. But he also knew Lucerys had been getting arrogant lately.
He was still turning it over when a loud, clear dragon roar split the sky above King's Landing.
Both men looked up.
Daeron walked to the window.
Tessarion was circling high over the city, cobalt wings flashing in the sunlight. On her back sat a familiar figure in a blue dress—Shaena, with little Inar strapped securely to her chest with cloth bands.
The baby's tiny hand was waving in the air.
Daeron's eye twitched.
Shaena had always looked so quiet and gentle. Apparently that was just the surface.
He turned and headed for the door.
"Your Grace, about Lord Lucerys—"
"Later," Daeron said over his shoulder. "Right now I need to have a very serious talk with my wife about not treating our son like a kite."