During the past half-year, a rather unusual forge had quietly been completed beside the Dragonpit of House Targaryen.
Aegon was meticulously preparing for the upcoming Champion Dragonbattle. He intended to forge a massive two-handed sword of his own, and was now working alongside a Valyrian steel smith, hammering a steel blank.
Clang!
Aegon stood bare-chested, his muscular frame gleaming with a bronze sheen in the firelight.
Gripping a large hammer, he struck the glowing-hot sword blank again and again with steady, powerful blows. Beside him, the experienced Valyrian steel smith tapped lightly with a small hammer on the anvil—each tap acting as a signal, prompting Aegon to follow with a heavy strike on the blade.
Under their coordinated rhythm, the searing-hot steel gradually shifted shape, slowly taking on the form of a massive sword.
The alternating rhythm of heavy and light strikes echoed through the stuffy forge like a unique and captivating melody.
"The blank is cooling again. Let Tiamat heat it up once more," the smith said, glancing up at the sword blank and reminding Aegon at just the right moment.
Aegon gave a small nod and, using tongs, carefully lifted the blank and placed it into a specially designed furnace.
Outside the forge, Tiamat lay sprawled. At Aegon's command, she opened her jaws and released a continuous stream of blazing dragonfire into the furnace.
The custom-built furnace was ingeniously crafted to concentrate the dragonfire precisely onto the sword blank. The Valyrian steel, which had begun to cool and lose its glow, was immediately reheated until it turned bright red and nearly translucent once again.
Soon, the alternating rhythm of light and heavy hammering rang clearly through the forge once more.
After several hours of careful forging, the two-handed greatsword—created from Gaemon's twin half-swords and a generous amount of precious Valyrian steel—finally began to take shape.
The Valyrian steel smith turned to Aegon and explained, "Prince Aegon, I've successfully fused the three most vital materials—Tiamat's Dragonblood, Dragonglass, and Burning Steel—with the aid of Blood Sorcery. The most difficult and critical part of the forging process is now essentially complete. What comes next is the fourteen-step annealing process specific to Valyrian steel."
He gently lowered the nearly two-meter-long sword into a trough filled with dragon oil.
The moment the blade touched the liquid, fiery red patterns instantly emerged along its surface, glowing faintly with a captivating brilliance.
Aegon leaned in, intrigued, closely studying the strange patterns now adorning the blade. The lines resembled winding rivers—fine, intricate, and meandering like flowing ribbons of water running through the steel. Reflected in the forge's firelight, the markings shimmered as if they might suddenly surge to life.
Seeing Aegon's curiosity, the smith allowed himself a proud smile. "Prince, take a look at these fine interwoven lines. These patterns are the result of the most advanced Valyrian steel forging technique we have on Burning Steel Peak. It's called [Blood Dragon Steel]—a level far beyond the ordinary Valyrian steel you see elsewhere.
[Blood Dragon Steel] is harder, sharper, and more resilient, almost indestructible once forged.
This special Valyrian steel is not sold to outsiders."
"Thank you for your hard work, Master Wormell," Aegon said at the right moment, offering polite praise—but inwardly, he couldn't help but grumble, This old man still refuses to teach me the Blood Sorcery used in forging Valyrian steel. Even this technique for forging special steel, he's kept it all to himself. Damn it.
Wormell beamed at Aegon's compliment, stroking his thick beard. "This greatsword needs to soak in dragon oil for ten hours to cool naturally. There's no need for you to stay here, Prince Aegon. I'll have someone notify you when the next annealing phase begins."
Aegon nodded, taking one last lingering look at the magnificent greatsword submerged in the oil before turning and slowly leaving the forge.
He returned to the main castle's bathhouse to wash up, then changed into a robe of black and crimson. Fine gold thread was used to embroider an ornate band of patterns around the collar, and golden dragon motifs decorated both the chest and cuffs, making the robe look especially regal and lavish.
After leaving the bathhouse, Aegon made his way to the castle gates. He had arranged to take a walk by the bay with his wife, Daenys. With the Dragonlord duel drawing near, their united front was more important than ever—and there were indeed matters Aegon needed to discuss with her.
On his way to the bay, he occasionally passed by castle servants.
"Prince Aegon," they all said, bowing respectfully whenever they saw him.
At this point, Aegon was already the rightful heir of House Targaryen. With the support of the fully grown King-tier Dragon, Tiamat, his power and standing now rivaled that of Aenar.
Aegon walked leisurely through the main castle corridors, passing by the old attic he once lived in.
Back then, it had been the marital home he and Daenys shared after their wedding. Now, he had moved into a private tower of his own. Unknowingly, half a year had passed in the blink of an eye.
As he walked along the corridor next to the attic, scenes from his wedding to Daenys resurfaced in his mind. They came unbidden, vivid as if they had happened only yesterday...
It had been an incredibly grand wedding. As a dragon knight bonded to a King-tier Dragon, Aegon held a status of unmatched prestige, and many of the Dragonlord families of Valyria made a point to attend the celebration, offering their heartfelt blessings to the newlyweds. Even families from the Dragonlord Council symbolically sent their younger members to join the festivities.
And when Aenar publicly declared Aegon as his heir during the wedding feast, the atmosphere reached a roaring climax.
The heads of House Targaryen's two major vassal houses stepped forward in person, offering formal oaths of loyalty and pledging their allegiance to Aegon.
Though it was his second wedding, it was by far the most unforgettable. Surrounded by a sea of admirers, Aegon and Daenys, both dressed in ceremonial finery, completed the solemn rites of marriage according to Valyrian tradition.
He still remembered the bridal chamber vividly—especially the moment he took Daenys's virginity. It was a memory he savored even now. On that night, Daenys had used her powers as the [Lord of Dreams] to transform their chamber into a breathtaking, dreamlike starfield.
In that surreal setting, her abilities had heightened Aegon's senses many times over, making every sensation feel overwhelmingly vivid.
Daenys even manifested multiple dream-forms of herself, which simultaneously "attacked" Aegon from above, below, left, and right.
To manipulate dream magic with such astonishing control—enough to affect reality itself—left Aegon in awe.
As their intimacy deepened, the experience became so intense that he felt as though his very soul was about to ascend from his body.
Aegon swallowed hard, dragging himself out of the sweet reverie.
Slowly, he pulled his gaze away from the attic that had once been their newlywed home.
Beautiful memories always linger, but there were more pressing matters he needed to discuss with Daenys.
...
After leaving the main keep, the steward Farlen, already informed of Aegon's schedule, had the carriage waiting.
Farlen personally opened the door for him, and Aegon gave a subtle nod of thanks before stepping in.
The carriage started moving slowly, heading toward the bay.
Before long, it came to a steady stop at the foot of a hill overlooking the coastline.
The vantage point was high, offering a panoramic view of the majestic Targaryen Bay. The last time Aegon had stood here, it had been with Gaemon, Daenys, and Daenylis.
Back then, House Targaryen's first evacuation fleet had been busy loading supplies below.
Now, those companions were gone.
Aegon stepped down from the carriage and walked up the slope. After climbing for several dozen meters, he spotted Daenys standing alone at the cliff's edge. She was gazing out across the eastern sea, the breeze gently lifting her silver hair, presenting Aegon with a side profile so serene and striking it resembled a painting brought to life.
Seeing her so lost in thought, Aegon didn't call out. Instead, he quietly approached from behind.
He slipped his arms around her waist, holding her gently, his hands brushing over her rounded belly.
Daenys had already sensed his approach the moment he drew near. Her dream magic had continued to grow stronger—within a meter around her, her powerful mental energy was always active, and not even the subtlest movement could escape her awareness.
She was even capable of turning dream imagery into reality at the cost of permanently sacrificing a portion of her own spiritual power.
As Aegon touched her, Daenys's lips curved into a faint smile. She turned her head slightly, rubbing her cheek against his neck, her eyes comfortably half-closed.
Their long, silvery hair billowed and entwined in the sea breeze, like a pair of ethereal beings descended from the heavens—beautiful and surreal.
They stood in silence for a while, enjoying their closeness.
Then Daenys spoke.
"Do you remember when we stood here with my brother, imagining the future?"
"To Westeros, in the west?" Aegon replied softly, planting gentle kisses on her neck, his touch tender and lingering.
"Mhm. I've always wanted to go there… to conquer that land. To see our child born as a noble heir prince. I want all of Westeros to call out his name the moment he's born…" Daenys tilted her head back, fully surrendering to Aegon's kisses. Since her pregnancy began, it had been a long time since they'd shared such intimacy.
But Aegon suddenly stopped.
He pulled Daenys into his arms so they were face to face, looking deeply into each other's eyes. Then, with unusual seriousness, he said, "I… I've been thinking. Maybe I should stay here. In the Valyria Peninsula."
Daenys, still caught in the haze of affection, blinked in surprise, and instinctively replied, "Stay… stay what?"
Her eyes flew wide open as she stared at him, filled with shock and confusion.
Aegon met her gaze steadily. His look said clearly—this was no joke.
"You're insane. The Valyria Peninsula is going to be destroyed!" Daenys stared at him in disbelief.
"Tiamat is dying. I think Blood Sorcery might be the only way to save her." Aegon released her gently, then turned away, looking out into the distance just as she had moments before.
Far across the sea, in a land he could not forget, lay the place that still haunted his dreams.