Jaehaerys Targaryen drummed his fingers across the table, as his father talked.

"The reports are clear. The "Band of Nine" have been smashing their way through the disputed lands, taking city, after city, both with incredible speed, and relatively few losses."

Aegon the fifth, also known as the unlikely, or as the prince who was an egg, after an unfortunate childhood egg, was clearly not in a good mood.

"These Sellswords turned out quite a bit more dangerous than the last report made them out to be." Aerys' tone was a bit too insolent for his own liking, but his father didn't seem to care, instead looking at his spymaster, Robyn Storm, with anger.

"On, that I can fully agree. I was under the impression that the Blackfyres "Dragons" Were only good for battle, and not particularly suited for sieges."

Storm fiddled nervously.

"The reports are… not exactly clear on what changed, but from what my contacts say in their letters, it seems likely that Maelys has developed a new… Stronger kind of Dragon, one that uses the strange black powder, but is much larger and more powerful."

"Stronger or not, the new weaponry is a big problem for us. By all reports, they are terrifying in a field battle, cutting down infantry like scythes through the straw. If we have to face them in the field, it will not go well for us." Ser Duncan, lord commander of the Kingsguard piped in.

His father Pinched his brow between two, tired fingers.

"The reports and numbers of the Sellswords suggested that even if they did conquer the Disputed lands, the number of sieges involved would mean it should have taken them at least a year or two. With this speed, however… They will be launching an assault directly on Tyrosh within the month. Seven hells, they might already have taken Tyroshi Landing and are launching that invasion right now!"

"What do we do then?" Lord Darklyn asked.

He was only one of the small council who had been quickly gathered by the king to respond to the surprising new threat of The Resurgent Blackfyres.

"We do not have time to meet them at the stepstones." Addam Velaryon, master of Ships said.

"Even if we took the entire Royal Fleet and set sail right now, we would have trouble intercepting them before they finished conquering the stepstones for that pirate queen of theirs. After that, it's just a small hop over to the Stormlands, to begin a true, real invasion of Westeros."

At the table before them, they had laid out a map of the entire Continent, and the stepstones, as well as the western coast of Essos.

Velaryon moved a couple of black Dragon pieces, from the disputed lands, and then to the southern tip of the Stormlands.

"Even if we can catch them out on the sea before they land, the combined fleet of the two pirate lords, outnumber the royal fleet. We would have to be bolstered by the western parts of the kingdom to compete with them on the water."

"We don't have the time to wait for Greyjoy and Redwyne to get their ships around Dorne. And even if they did, who's to say that Maelys will not pull another "Dragon" out of his arse? One to be used on ships, against other ships."

Jaehaerys finally spoke up.

"So… We cannot face them on the field, we cannot face them on the seas, and we cannot wage a campaign of attrition, because they will just smash their way through every castle in the Stormlands, except maybe Storms Ends. So… What DO we do?"

His father stared down at the map, clearly contemplating it all.

Then, Aegon the fifth came to a decision.

"We do have one advantage left. By all accounts, Maelys and his Sellswords only have a host 20 000 Men in total. With a truly united Westeros behind us, we have that, 6 folds."

He moved his hand north, where a dire wolf figurine, expertly carved, rested upon Winterfell.

"The North has at least 30 000 Men that can be called upon. How many of those that can be gathered before we have to take the field, I don't know. The Vale of Arryn has 35 000, a massive portion of those knights. Together that's 65 000 men."

He moved both the figurines from the Vale and the North to King's Landing.

"The Riverland has 15 000 to call upon. That's almost a hundred thousand men, all in all. Add the Westerlands 35 000, and we have 115 000 soldiers."

He moved the corresponding figures to join their recently moved compatriots.

"The Ironmen dare not hope for mercy after they betrayed the Blackfyres the last time, so we can expect another 15 000 men from the islands. Together with the Stormlands, that's 40 000 more men."

He moved the Kraken and the Lion pieces to join the rest.

Then, with a worried look, he turned his eyes upon the reach, where the flower of the Tyrells of Highgarden rested.

"Then there is the reach… I dare not guess how many would turn to the Black Dragon if it came to that, but there are at least 60 000 men to pull from it, for one side or the other."

He moved the Tyrell rose to King's landing.

"And finally, we have the Crown lands and Dorne. The crown lands have around 15 000 men, while the Dorne has 30 000 spears."

He moved the speared sun to join, the rose, the lion, the trout, the stag, the Kraken, the Falcon, the direwolf, and The red dragon at King's landing.

"That is, all in all, a potential force of two hundred and sixty thousand men. Even if we can only pull together half of that, we would still outnumber the Blackfyres and their Essossi allies 6 times over."

He looked up and had a look of seriousness and determination that reminded Jaehaerys of Pictures he had seen of Aegon the conqueror.

"It will be the largest army ever put in the field. If we cannot match the black Dragons with quality, we will crush them with a sea of numbers instead. Every knight, every farmer, every lord in this Kingdom will be gathered into one, through the largest Call To Arms in the history of the world."

I


After the council was done with the hours and hours of preparation for the largest campaign ever planned since the second spice War between the Valyrian Freehold, and The Rhoynish city-states, Jaehaerys Targaryen waited for the inevitable summons from his father.

It came, late in the night, right before the hour of the wolf.

In the privacy of his bedroom, Aegon looked far, far less confident than he had appeared during the entire day.

As he entered, only his Mother, Bethany Blackwood, and Ser Duncan the Tall were there with him, looking over a map, his father sipping from a wine cup.

He knew of course, what his father had in mind. But, as the dutiful son he generally did not even pretend to be, he stood and waited for his father to speak.

"Well, son… You know what I want to discuss."

He nodded.

"The egg hatching."

"Yes…" The king sighed. "I had thought… I would need their power to remake this Kingdom into something better… Now, we might need them, just to survive."

"Not so confident of victory as you pretend are you?"

Aegon snorted, which was quite unlike him. Mayhap he had been drinking a bit too much.

"I have read the reports. I KNOW how dangerous Maelys weapons are. In any case… We plan for everything. Even a loss."

He met the younger Dragon's eyes.

"If we lose this upcoming battle, after having gathered the entire power of the kingdom, we are done. The best scenario is an exile to Essos. The worst is that all of us die at Blackfyre swords."

"How do Dragons help with either? Even IF this insane plan of yours works father, there will be years before your newly hatched Dragons will be big enough to fight."

His mother answered.

"If we have to flee the kingdom, there will be a chance that we might return one day, just like the Blackfyre returned to challenge us for the right to rule, we might one day return to challenge them to take back our rightful throne."

"And if we have to do that, then doing so on dragon back would make our lives much, much easier. Even if we don't consider the possibility of losing the war, hatching Dragons will be a grand boost to morale. Either way, you are to gather our entire family. All of them. At Summerhill, we shall hatch Dragons from stone."

I


Nine Eyes rolled his many, many-sided dice, mumbling an old, old sentence as he did so.

He didn't need to, but his training, drilled into him so, so many times, had made it second nature to repeat this ritual as many times as possible.

Just to be certain.

Either way, the dice he had prepared with the blood of a Lyseni slaver who specialized in the sales of children didn't deviate from the pattern.

The same pattern that he had read for half a year now, regarding the gulf of grief.

First 7 - 3, the number for Dragons, and the number of those involved.

Then, the next dice rolled 3 - 4, the numbers for Astapor on his map.

Then next, the dice rolled 3 - 4. Yunkai.

3 - 3. Meereen.

Finally, the next went random, as always. A sign of deviation. Uncertainty. The next after them could go several ways.

He nodded, then rolled the dice once more.

3-7. The number for Fire and a Sack.

He nodded.

Then, he picked up his dice, and cleaned them in a nearby water bowl, while the slave convulsed and died besides him, the blood still gushing from his neck.

He left the slaver behind without looking back.

His guards followed him, though there was little point to it.

This was not the day he would die.

Around him, the armies were settling in, and beginning preparations for their next step in the journey of their lives.

Taking Tyrosh for Alequo Adarys, the silver tongue.

Truth be told, though he was happy this coalition had agreed to end slavery in western Essos(Though that had far more to do with practicality, than any genuine wish to liberate the downtrodden on the part of his brothers in arms he was certain) as well, it had not been the silvertongue that had brought him here.

No, that had been Maelys Blackfyre.

3 Dragons would lay waste to Slavers Bay, Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, in that order.

He had pondered many, many times since he first had seen the way in his dice, of what that meant.

Then, he had served together with the Golden Company on a job. Maelys, and his Dragons, that spat both fire and iron. Maelys, who had two daughters.

Yes, it was obvious. As obvious as the torch above the world.

The band of Nine was the key to his master plan. Conquering the gulf of grief, and by doing so, killing the slave trade between East and west.

It had taken a long, long time to get here, and he had traveled far and wide on the way, but his ultimate goal was nearing it's end.

The extermination of Ghizari, and the breaking of Chains of all those they had subjugated.

The Blackfyres were the key he had foreseen. The 3 Dragons who would lay the Slavers low.

And more important than all, the girl, the one whose shadow danced the dance only those whose third eye was opened could see.

As he walked through the streets, he could feel where she was, long, long before he saw the shadows dance across the ground.

3 serpentine heads upon long, slender necks, with eyes of glowing red, that slithered upon the ground and the walls around the table where the leaders had gathered.

The 3 headed Dragon, the heir to Blackfyre cause. The girl, whose third eye had not been opened, yet was so, so burning even so that it almost hurt.

His friends feared the girl. More so than they would admit.

He did not. He had traveled to Stygai and the shadow. He had seen the terrors of the great and dark valley, and the heart of summer.

He had seen the great, and dark dragons, and the demons of living flame and shadow that stalked it.

He had seen and trained in K'dath, where the veil between this world and the other had been ripped wide open so long ago that no living song or memory recalled what it had been that did it.

Where the most unspeakable of rituals took place, where men and women conversed and lay with demons, where the demons that troubled Mossovy so had their terrible origin.

The thinnest of the thin places of the world was one that had terrified all those who had known it. It terrified Yi Ti, it had terrified the empire of the Dawn, and it had terrified the grand empire that had been before the empire of the dawn, the one that had challenged it for hegemony of the east.

Little was left of that empire now, except a ruined capital, where no children could be born and no animals could live, and a series of incredible forts, that stood long, long after their owners had left the mortal coil.

As the world had changed, as empires and dynasties rose and fell, K'dath, the First City, the first of the thin places, the site of the original sin, had remained as it had always been.

A place of death and horror.

A place of madness, at the end of the world.

Compared to that, a girl with a shadow who rose and danced like dragons, and with an unopened third eye was not much to fear.