The fire burned for hours. He did not know when the screaming ended. He could still hear it in his ears, like when Viserys held his arm so tightly he felt the grip for hours afterward. A gray dawn had come by the time the final embers of the fire went out. All around him he saw grey, as though he torched the entire Stormlands. His Kingsguard stood behind him, grim-faced and quiet. None said a word through the night, no one looked away.

But Jaehaerys did not see any of it, his eyes glued to the glowing embers. Something called to him, a beast in his chest demanded he go into the fire. He could not identify the feeling, other than to compare it to the times he'd let his lust run rampant. Only more primal. More powerful. More.

Ser Barristan's hand on his shoulder kept him from walking into the fire a dozen times but now even the venerated knight took a step back. A glance told Jae he was as desperate for the ritual to work as he was. He does not want to have to know he burned two men in vain.

Jaehaerys' legs carried him forward of their violation, his eyes watering with the smoke that blew in his face. He could not hear any movement from the fire, no noises, but he knew something waited for him there.

He approached the remains of the pyre, now nothing more than a pile of ash and some burned-out sticks. He moved around it, waiting for a sign of life, waiting for proof his sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

He saw nothing, but maybe they're hidden under all the ash. He crouched down, about to bury his hands in it when something rustled just to the right. His eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. Again he saw the ash shift, like a snake beneath the sand.

He swallowed and reached forward, gently dusting the ash away. His fingers fell on something smooth, and warm, and white.

The tiny head of a snow-white dragon poked its head out, staring up at him with small, golden eyes. It shook itself free of the soot and awkwardly crawled its way to his hand, carefully sniffing his fingers before it looked back up at him again.

Jae did not have the time to think, to celebrate. The magnificent little creature before him captured his imagination and his heart with but a single look. Unconsciously, he opened his palm and it crawled into it, settling down in his hand as though it belonged there. Jae felt a smile bloom on his face and tears pricking at his eyes. He stood up and brought the dragon closer, wanted to run his fingers over its scales, feel its breath, anything to convince himself it was all real, he wasn't dreaming, he had a live dragon in his hand...

More movement from the right caught his eye. A blood-red dragon crawled its way out from the pile of ash and looked up. He could've sworn it glared at him, demanding to know why it hadn't been given the same treatment. Laughter bubbled up in his chest. Daenerys. This one's yours. He squatted down again and allowed it to crawl into his left hand.

A sob escaped him and a tear trickled down his cheek even as he smiled so widely his muscles hurt. By the Old Gods and the New, I've never seen anything as beautiful.

He held them gently in his hands but they quickly sought to prove they were no fragile creatures. The white one began to crawl up his arm and the red one, seeing its brothers initiative, followed. They both came to rest upon his shoulders, rubbing their tiny heads against his neck like cats. Scaly cats, that'll breathe fire one day.

Their claws clung tightly to him, but never so tightly to break his skin. In a daze, he slowly turned around and walked back to where his men waited for him, trying to make sure his little dragons enjoyed a smooth ride. He feared he might get a cuff around the ear or a vicious tug on his hair if he did not.

He emerged from the smoke to find his Kingsguard standing still as statues, their eyes showing such shock it could only mean their stoic expressions didn't have a chance to catch up yet. His eyes strayed to the side, to the ring of men that surrounded them through the night. He knew they'd followed his orders, did not turn to look at the fire once, no matter how loud the screams became.

They all looked at him now, silent sentinels who could not grasp what their eyes told them.

Ser Barristan recovered first and dropped down to one knee. ''Your Grace,'' he breathed with a touch of reverence Jaehaerys had never heard before.

The rest of his Kingsguard followed his lead, the men surrounding them a moment behind. ''All Hail the King!'' Ser Barristan shouted. Not in the way he shouted after the Battle of Black Tree, when his eyes had been more on the soldiers standing around than Jaehaerys. This time his dark eyes stared right into Jae's soul and Jae recognized what hid in their depths. He will do anything now. No order will be too ludicrous, no idea foolish. I can do no wrong. A shiver ran down his spine.

''All Hail the King!'' came the echoing shout from two dozen throats.

''Rise, men,'' Jaehaerys said with a smile as the white dragon hissed in annoyance from his white shoulders. I really have to think of a name for them. ''Let us return to the camp. There is an army whose faith in me I must justify.''

Bright grins answered his words as they rose to their feet and together they walked back up the small hill. ''Tell the men to erase all evidence of the fire. I want it to look like nothing ever happened here within the hour.'' Jaehaerys ordered as he glanced at the men. They knew the truth, but they would be the only ones. By the time they made it back to camp, their story will but one of a thousand. I'll make sure of it.

He felt a warm breath on his cheek. He almost looked over his shoulder to see where Arianne had come from only to find himself eye to eye with the red dragon. Meleys. He knew it with certainty. The name of the mount of the Queen Who Never Was, perhaps the greatest of all Targaryen women aside from Alyssane Targaryen. A name fitting for a dragon that's to be ridden by Daenerys.

He looked to the right and examined the dragon he claimed as his own. Its white color was without blemish, even its claws were white if his eyes did not deceive him. He'd never heard of a dragon like it, had no name he could pull from the history books. Morning was the name of Rhaena Targaryen's dragon, but that one had been a pale pink. He thought about using a Valyrian name but none seemed to fit.

Vermithor, the Bronze Fury. He thought as he walked down into another depression. He noticed the clouds had begun to clear; it would be first sunny day in a fortnight. Another good omen. ''Would Your Grace like to ride?'' Ser Arthur asked.

''No, Ser,'' Jae said, his mind far away. ''I want to walk among the men, I want them to see me.''

Ser Arthur nodded in understanding and his knights led their horses behind them. I've been painting myself as the next Conciliator this entire time. Naming my dragon after the Old King will seal it.

He nodded to himself. Yes, he knew now. ''Vermithor,'' he murmured to the dragon who cocked its head to the side and sniffed as if he was trying to decide if he like the smell of it. ''Your name is Vermithor.''

''And you,'' he looked at his left shoulder, ''You shall be called Meleys.''

Meleys huffed and a puff od smoke left its nostrils. Jae smiled, taking it as a sign of agreement, watching as Meleys shifted on his shoulder to look ahead with such haughtiness Jae fully expected a barked command to change course. They'll be telling me here to go before long.

''Beautiful names, Your Grace,'' Ser Barristan nodded, ''And wisely chosen.''

He gave the old knight a slow nod as they crested the hill, the camp coming into view. Hundreds of small tents littered the valley, fires burning throughout. With dawn, the camp slowly crawled to life. He saw squires running to and fro on the orders of their knights, others huddling around the firepits in the hope of a measly breakfast.

Jae stopped and took a deep breath. He had to move carefully, had to evoke the right sort of emotions in the men. They couldn't think that their King had gained a dragon. They had to think they gained dragons, and they would soar with them.

''How do you want to do this, Your Grace?'' Ser Loras asked, returned from giving them men their orders.

''Ride to camp. Tell Lord Tarly to sound the assembly.'' He said. He couldn't afford for a single soldier to miss what came next. Ser Loras nodded, launched himself into the saddle and rode off.

''Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur, take your places at my side. We will walk straight to the middle of the camp. Everyone will catch a glimpse by then.'' He told them.

''Aye, Your Grace,'' Ser Arthur nodded, his eyes straying to Vermithor. Jae bit his lip to hide a smile. He could grasp what he had achieved in political terms but sensed there might be something more to it than that. Have I just become a legend? An evil sorcerer? Does everything I have achieved so far pale in comparison?

He began to walk down the hill, his boots sinking in the wet grass, muddy up to his ankles. Meleys hissed at his side and Jae ran a gentle finger over it again. I will get to fly through the sky one day. All the plotting he usually busied his mind with was put on hold, his childish exuberance taking over. Fly through the sky, cross Westeros in a day if I like.

He wanted to giggle like a little child, but the warhorn from the camp tore through the morning silence. Heads perked up, knights stuck their heads through the flaps of their tents. They did not know where to look. Ser Loras and Lord Tarly helped with that. They rode their horses straight down the middle of the camp towards Jaehaerys, and all eyes followed them.

Jae eyed those closest to him, those at the edge of the camp. They stood up, curiosity etched on their eyes. A few frowns of confusion followed, they pointed at Jae and asked their brothers-in-arms, ''Oi, what's that on the King's shoulder?''

A squire cottoned onto the truth first. Or mayhaps he had a wild imagination that turned out to be accurate for once. He froze before the entrance to a tent as his eyes jumped between Jae's face and his shoulders. He dropped the buckets of water he carried, turned on his heel and bolted down into the heart of the camp yelling, ''Dragons! The King has dragons!''

Strangely enough, Jae heard no scoffs of derision or disbelief. Men exchanged looks, wondering if they heard right, and moved closer. Jae reached the first line of tents and many got to see for themselves. It would take a while before fifteen thousand men got their eyeful.

They stood in mute silence, staring at him as though convinced their eyes deceived them. Murmurs spread among them until the air around him buzzed. They lined the path between the tents to allow Jaehaerys room to pass, and every second another rank of men came from behind to see for themselves.

Jae heard shouts in the distance, could sense the word spread along the camp. Lord Tarly and Ser Loras rode up to them, Loras grinning like a maniac while Lord Tarly maintained his composure even in this, the unlikeliest of developments.

The martial Lord needed only one look and a long blink before he dismounted the horse and handed the reins to Jae with a bow. Yes, they'll see me better from horseback. I should've ridden in.

Jaehaerys took the reins with a nod and carefully mounted the horse, focused on the dragons on his shoulders. Wouldn't do for one to fall off. Can't be seen picking dragons off the ground like an idiot.

From horseback, he could see thousands of men had gathered in a matter of minutes. He rode on slowly, his back straight, his head held high; these men would remember the moment for the rest of their lives. Only fitting I act the part.

The stunned amazement began to give way to smiles of joy, hoots of triumph. Tymon, that old soldier, watched him pass with tears streaming down his eyes. Jae gave him a nod and a slight smile. He'd never seen such devotion in anyone without having to earn it first.

He rode on to the middle of the camp, past hundreds of knights and men-at-arms, past squires and cooks, past whores and healers. The whispers went quiet; all knew what had happened, and they only wanted to see for themselves.

When he reached the middle of the camp, they formed a loose circle around him, all of them staring up at him, a sea of faces. Ser Arthur, Ser Loras, Ser Barristan and Lord Tarly took their places around him, like four points on a compass.

Jae took a steady breath and wheeled the horse around so as to give everyone a chance to see his face. If we're writing a legend, let's make it a proper one, shall we? ''Last night,'' he began, putting an end to the last of the murmurs. ''The Seven came to visit me in my dreams.'' Oh, I have their attention now. ''They charged me with restoring peace and prosperity to Westeros. They demanded I lead my armies against all those who would sow chaos and reap destruction. To show their favor to you, my brave warriors, they revealed the secret that laid at the heart of the birth of dragons.'' The eyes went wide, the breaths hitched.

He stood up in the stirrups, hoping Meleys and Vermithor wouldn't be too annoyed at what came next. ''Aye, my brave warriors, my fierce fighters, dragons have returned!'' Jae shouted and as one they replied in a thundering cheer. ''We shall go forth from this place! We shall fight our enemies and we shall bring them to their knees for I promise you, my good men; all shall remember the Ice Dragon, the peace and prosperity he brought and the brave men who stood by his side on the field of battle!'' A bit presumptuous, but Jae cared little in the face of their deafening screams. ''Will you fight by my side?''

''Aye!'' came the shout from twenty thousand throats.

''Will you birth a new age in Westeros?!''

''Aye!''

He grabbed the hilt of Blackfyre, drew the sword and held it high into the air. ''For the dragons!''

Their cheer was like a thunderclap, their delirious shouts of support like blessed summer rain. I do not want them loyal. I want them fanatic.

He gave the guard a nod as he approached the tent, the torch illuminating his face. They held Prince Oberyn at the edge of the camp, surrounded by knights. The man held the flap open and Jae ducked inside, absent-mindedly stroking Vermitor's neck. Meleys remained behind with faintly a bemused Ser Barristan.

Prince Oberyn sat turned away from the entrance, his legs chained to the pots in the middle of the tent. He spied the sling for his arm over his shoulder. ''Jaehaerys Targaryen!'' Oberyn said, still turned away from him. ''I've heard the cheers earlier. It must've been a thrilling speech. Celebrating all the good dornish boys you massacred?'' Oberyn leaned back against the post, determined not to look at him. Some petty act of defiance?

''Oh, I can only wish my words alone could cause such a stir. I'm afraid most of the gratitude goes to my little friend here,'' Jae sat down on a barrel by the entrance, Vermithor purring in pleasure.

Oberyn heard. Jae saw his body tense. He looked over his shoulder and froze. He shifted around to face him, shaking his head the entire time. Where did the proud Prince go? He reminded him of Varys without his costume; Oberyn wore but a threadbare and dirty tunic, and patched up breeches. A sobering lesson, though not for Jaehaerys. If they ever capture me, I won't live long enough to be humiliated.

''It can't be,'' Oberyn finally breathed, unable to take his eyes off the dragon.

Jae absent-mindedly brushed some dust off his cloak as he said, ''Ravens fly as we speak. This time tomorrow, all of Westeros will know dragons have returned.''

That proved enough to break the spell and steel returned to Oberyn's gaze. ''Dragons can be killed, we dornish know better than most. Especially baby dragons.'' He spat.

''Too true,'' Jae agreed, ''But we're not talking about dragons, are we?'' he allowed a vicious grin to spread. ''The ravens claim I walked into the fire with two eggs and emerged untouched with two dragons. Do you think they'll demand Aegon does the same?''

It had been Ser Baelor's idea and a most inventive one at that. If people believed he'd hatched the dragons due to some hidden knowledge, they wouldn't blame Aegon for failing to do the same. But if Jae hatched them simply because he had Targaryen blood, well...

''You bastard!'' Oberyn growled.

Jae smirked. ''Don't the dornish accept bastards?'' he mused, ''I suppose now I know why. You're all bastards yourselves.'' Oberyn watched him in silence as he got to his feet.

''You started this war to keep your blood on the Iron Throne, and now you'll pay the price. You'll burn, every one of you. The Dragon's Wroth will be a joke before I'm finished.'' Jaehaerys growled as he stalked around the fallen Prince of Dorne.

''Unbent, unbowed, unbroken,'' Oberyn hissed, his eyes following him.

''But not unburnt,'' Jae allowed a smirk. ''And I much prefer you all dead.'' That earned him a flinch from Oberyn. ''You see, I've been thinking about this all wrong. I've been thinking small, like most of my pathetic ancestors. I actually worried about how to politically maneuver Dorne back into the fold.'' He barked a laugh. What a ridiculous notion.

He faced Oberyn then, allowed his thoughts to surface so Oberyn would see the malice in his eyes. ''You'll be my testing ground. You'll be the enemy I unite all of Westeros behind. You'll be the threat that frightens the Lords into backing an army controlled directly by the Crown.''

''We will defend, but we won't attack. It'll never work!'' Oberyn went to lounge at him, but the rattling chains kept him in place. He knows I have plans in place, that's why he looks so scared.

''Won't it?'' Jae asked idly. ''You dornish are so proud of your underhanded methods. When Lords start dying like flies from poison, who will doubt me when I point the finger at you? All empires are built on the bones of the defeated, Oberyn. You should be proud. The dornish are to be the fertilizer that makes a New Valyria bloom.''

''You—you can't mean this,'' he shook his head, trying to convince himself to believe it.

''No? Why not?'' Jae raised an eyebrow. ''Is it all the death that I am supposed to worry about?'' he snorted. ''Valyria burned millions, yet all anyone does these days is speak of its great achievements. Do you think the elimination of your pesky desert fools too high a price to pay?'' He shrugged. ''I suppose it doesn't matter since I can assure you my historians won't.''

''Why keep me alive then?'' Oberyn asked, his voice much calmer than Jae would've expected.

''Why, you'd be so useless to me dead. I can't be seen agitating for another war. These things must come naturally; a call of fate, if you will. I'll take you to King's Landing instead. One day you'll escape straight to the bottom of the Narrow Sea, while someone else goes on to do such terrible things in your name. We'll see. I'm sure I'll think of something.'' He gave him an ugly smile. ''I do hope your little scheme was worth it because it certainly worked for me.''

''I don't fear death,''

''Of course, you don't.'' Jae nodded as he completed his circle and sat back down on the barrel. ''The world's a shit place. Men like you and I almost welcome the idea.'' He ran a hand through his hair and pretended as though he'd been struck by an idea. ''Say, you've got eight daughters, don't you?'' Oberyn's eyes snapped to him. There's the weak spot. ''I heard some of them are formidable warriors, yet none of them fought in your army. Wanted to keep them safe?''

''Jaehaerys...'' he said, and this time his desperation became evident.

''I don't mind death, not anymore. Men, women, children; when my soldiers go foraging and come back with bloody blades, you think I ask them what happened?'' he shook his head. ''You sit here, Prince of Dorne, and you think things through while I go kill that pretender of yours. When I come back, we'll have this conversation again and I hope you'll remember the survival of your family depends on your answers.''

With that, he left the tent, leaving a seething Oberyn behind, though Jae saw the sheer terror he tried to hide. ''I gather he bought that, Your Grace?'' Ser Barristan asked as he fell into step with Jae, having listened in on the conversation.

''We'll see,'' Jae muttered, his feet taking him back to his command tent where the rest of the commanders had gathered. Oberyn had to see the futility of resistance. Let him picture Sunspear in ashes for a few days. The Prince had to know times had changed; the Dornish have grown spoiled, used to eating more than snakes and fruits. During Aegon's Conquest, they fought against an invader. Should the same thing happen again, they would die for the folly of Martell's.

In spite of their words, I have to break them. Oberyn had to come to a place where he did not consider burning just to spite Jae. The children, it's always the children. Jae had to remind him what his death would mean for his precious Sand Snakes.

He heard the murmurs coming from the tent, two dozen Lords and knights bending over the maps and discussing what might come in the following days. No one shouted or cursed those who disagreed with him; the fools were all dead or back at Bitterbridge with Lord Fossoway.

They all bowed their heads when he entered, parting to allow him to make his way to the head of the table, their eyes glued to Vermithor. He gently held the dragon and placed him on a perch one of Baratheon's builders hastily constructed. He meant to have him present for every one of his war councils in the future.

''My Lords,'' he nodded to the men and turned his eyes to Ser Arthur. ''Any news?''

''Tywin Lannister and the Pretender march south towards us. Seaguard's retaken, Royce momentarily broken. They linked up at the Trident and now march for us. It'll be weeks before they cross the Blackwater.'' Ser Arthur said, his eyes going to the map.

Jae nodded. There wasn't much to discuss except to give orders. ''With the addition of the Baratheon forces, we have nearly thirty thousand able-bodied soldiers here, and sixty thousand more at Bitterbridge.'' He looked around the assembly. ''Anyone have any inspired ideas besides the obvious?''

''The obvious being marching straight at them for a re-enactment of the Battle of the Trident?'' Ser Baelor asked with a slight smile.

''Indeed.''

The men looked down in thought, rubbing their beards and sipping their wine. Jae saw them glancing at Vermithor, more interested in the dragon before them than the battle ahead. All but Orys Baratheon. He stared at Jae as though unsure how to phrase his thoughts. Jae smiled at the warrior, beaten and bruised and not even close to broken. ''Yes, Lord Baratheon?'' he asked.

The eyes of the men turned to him. Orys ran a hand over his face and said, ''When your father, Prince Rhaegar, and my uncle Robert came to blows at the Trident, they both charged over the river. They had no other choice, of course, but the fact remains they allowed bloody melee to win the battle.''

Jae nodded for him to go on, knowing he had the attention of the other men as well.

''We are weeks away from the river ourselves, but our forces at Bitterbridge are not. They could march ahead and prepare the battlefield.'' He raised a hand when many went to object. ''We cannot know for certain where they will cross, but we can guess. I may not know myself, but I am sure one of the reacher Lords must know how many crossings over the Blackwater rush there are.''

''Five bridges, and one ford where an army could cross,'' Ser Barristan spoke up, looking to Jae. ''Lord Orys is correct.''

''The smallfolk called it Death's Doorstep before Aegon's Conquest,'' Ser Arthur added, ''It's where the armies of the Storm Kings and Ironborn went to slaughter each other every summer.''

''You believe Lord Tywin's aware of it?'' Lord Rowan asked.

''We should operate under the assumption he does,'' Jaehaerys muttered. It changed the game; instead of hoping for a surprise they needed speed. Lord Tywin could send some of his men ahead, but not in as great a numbers as I. Jae nodded, pictures forming in his mind. ''You propose to send our men ahead, to destroy the bridges and erect defenses at the ford?''

''I do, Your Grace,'' Orys nodded. He glanced around the tent to gauge the reactions of the other Lords.

''Lannister will learn of it. What's to stop him from wheeling his army to King's Landing and crossing there?'' Lord Rowan asked.

''Nothing,'' Orys shrugged, ''But then we have a different battle. His Grace's forces will be able to harass their army for the entirety of the march since we'll control the only crossing, while the main army screens their movements. In the end, we'll still be waiting for them across the river.''

Jae wanted to giggle. ''Won't these defensive measures have us branded cowards?'' Ser Loras asked in worry.

He shot the fool a sharp look. ''They'll have us branded wise. Aegon's the Pretender, he's the one who has to prove his legitimacy, so he must be aggressive and rush straight into our loving arms.''

There were some chuckles around the tent as the Lords came to see the sense of his words. Jae sent Ser Loras a look of warning. What's the use of a Kingsguard if he undercuts a brilliant strategy?

''Are we all in agreement with this plan?'' he asked.

''Aye, Your Grace,'' Ser Barristan nodded, the rest of them voicing their approval. Jae glanced at the map again, if only to ensure no better possibility would occur to him.

''Sent word to Bitterbridge. Lord Fossoway is to move the entire army to the Blackwater Rush with all haste, destroy all the bridges and erect defensive palisades. We march tomorrow.''

''Aye, Your Grace!''