The Archon's Palace, Tyrosh.
Daemon looked at Corlys and asked, "What about Volantis? Did Eluna Lanthe not promise us an army?"
"A promise is only a promise," Corlys replied with a bitter smile.
"Volantis has only just secured Myr. Lys is still standing. Furthermore, with the loss of Driftmark and the likely imminent fall of Dragonstone, we have lost all our footholds in Westeros."
He turned to Rhaenyra, speaking earnestly.
"We need a victory, even a small one. We need to prove to everyone that the Blacks haven't lost. Rhaenyra, you need to show there is still hope for a comeback. Otherwise, we won't even need the Greens to attack us; we will collapse from within."
Rhaenyra looked at her husband.
"Daemon, what do you suggest?"
Prince Daemon remained silent for a moment before answering.
"There are two paths."
"The first: we strike back immediately. We gather all our strength, all our dragons, and all our ships, and we head straight for King's Landing. While Aemond's dragons are still recovering and while the Greens are still unsettled in their occupation of Driftmark, we take them by surprise. We retake our islands and put King's Landing under siege."
"And the odds?" Corlys asked.
"Fifty-fifty," Daemon said, turning to face them.
"We have four functional dragons: Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. On the Green side, Vhagar is wounded, Sunfyre is crippled, and they only have Dreamfyre intact, along with a few hatchlings. We have the numerical advantage in dragons. But the Greens hold King's Landing; they have the home-field advantage."
He paused, adding, "We could leave one or two dragons to hold Tyrosh. Let the bastards, Sara and Nettles, intimidate the Tyroshi, while the wounded Vermithor continues to heal here. We three take our dragons back; we have the speed."
Rhaenyra and Corlys exchanged a look. The plan was viable, but the risk was astronomical.
"And the second path?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Fortify," Daemon said, his voice flat.
"Abandon Westeros and turn entirely toward the East. Use Tyrosh as our foundation, ally with Volantis, and swallow Lys and Myr. Rebuild a 'New Valyria'. Spend ten, twenty years accumulating wealth, building a fleet, and training an army. And then..."
"And then my sons will have died for nothing," Rhaenyra interrupted, her voice as sharp as a blade.
"Jacaerys, Joffrey... their blood will have been spilled in vain. Everyone who died for the Blacks will have died for nothing."
She walked to the window, standing beside Daemon to look out at the night view of Tyrosh.
"I cannot accept this, Daemon. I cannot accept that the price of my children's lives is for me to be a mere city-queen in the East. I am going back to Westeros. I will retake the Iron Throne. I will make the Greens pay the price."
Daemon watched her, saying nothing. Silence once again filled the hall.
Corlys, listening to Daemon's plans, suddenly broke the silence with a laugh. Daemon frowned at him.
The Sea Snake seemed to have realized something.
"Actually... there is a third way. A perfect middle path."
Everyone turned to him. The Sea Snake leaned on his cane, walking slowly to the center of the hall, the candlelight casting deep shadows across his face.
"We can retake Driftmark and Dragonstone, and then go even further."
"Explain," Daemon said, narrowing his eyes.
"What does Aemond need most right now? Time," Corlys said, his voice as steady as an old sailor's at the helm during a storm.
"Vhagar needs time to heal. So does Sunfyre. The Greens are currently on the defensive; they can only hold King's Landing and dare not strike out. And what we lack most is also time; our morale is unstable, and we need a victory to unite us."
He paused, tapping his cane lightly on the floor.
"So, we do not attack King's Landing. But there is a place of immense strategic significance, held by a man who is a die-hard loyalist to our cause."
Daemon understood immediately, a sharp light flashing in his eyes.
"You mean Storm's End?"
"Boremund Baratheon," Corlys nodded.
"He is your staunch supporter, Rhaenyra. The Stormlands have always stood with the Blacks. Now that Driftmark and Dragonstone have fallen, they might waver. But if we can land at Storm's End and join forces with Boremund, the entire Stormlands will tilt back in our favor."
Rhaenyra listened intently, then nodded. Boremund Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, was Princess Rhaenys's uncle.
During the Great Council, the Baratheons had stood firmly by Rhaenys's side.
"And Storm's End is neither too far nor too close to King's Landing," Daemon added, his mind racing.
"The Greens cannot strike at it yet while their dragons are mending. Once we establish a base there, the Stormlands become our bastion. Then we send ravens to the three Northern realms: the Vale, the North, and the Riverlands. Persuasion, pressure, and promises."
Rhaenyra asked, "Can we successfully convince them?"
Daemon smiled, a calculating look in his eyes.
"As long as we can meet Boremund at Storm's End. The three Northern realms were always your supporters."
"Don't forget, your mother, Aemma Arryn, was the sister of Lady Jeyne Arryn, who currently rules the Vale. The Vale has the finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms; they will fight for you."
He continued his analysis.
"The Riverlands are also largely your supporters; they are only waiting because of the Greens' current strength. And the North..." Daemon paused.
"Cregan Stark is a pragmatic man. As long as we can show him a hope for victory, the Starks will stand with us."
Rhaenyra's face brightened with a smile.
"We can use Storm's End as a pivot to surround King's Landing from both land and sea."
"Once we successfully land at Storm's End, it is a victory," Corlys summarized.
"King's Landing will be besieged. We can use the geography of the Stormlands to hold off the Green armies from the West and the Reach. When the Northern armies join us and march south, and we strike out from Storm's End, King's Landing becomes a city of the dead."
Rhaenyra suddenly asked, "What about Tyrosh? If our main force leaves, will these Tyroshi nobles revolt?"
"Leave Lucerys, Little Aegon, and Viserys here in this safe rear," Daemon proposed immediately.
"Leave two thousand men and the two bastard dragonriders, Sara and Nettles. The Tyroshi nobles won't revolt because they know the alternative is being burned alive. Smart men know how to choose."
Rhaenyra fell silent. She could not hide here forever, sitting on a gaudy throne listening to fake compliments while her Kingdom died.
She had to return. She had to take back what was hers and avenge her sons.
"Assemble the generals," Rhaenyra said, standing tall and wiping the last traces of tears from her face. Her voice regained its regal command.
"Tomorrow, I want to see a full plan."
She looked at Corlys. "Send word to Boremund Baratheon. Use the fastest ship and the most reliable man."
Corlys nodded gravely.
"I will arrange it personally."
"Send messengers to the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North," Rhaenyra continued.
"Carry my personal letters. Tell them the Blacks are regrouping at Storm's End. When the war is over, I will remember every man's choice."
Finally, she looked at Daemon. "Will you go to the North yourself?"
Daemon nodded. "I will personally convince Cregan Stark. As for the Lords of the Riverlands, they were always Blacks. Once they see we have a chance at victory, they will serve you once more."
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