The Stronghammer - CH - 55

Years passed, and the Kingdom of Stormrage flourished under Robert’s rule. From its humble beginnings as a settlement carved out of the wilderness, it had grown into a beacon of hope and opportunity for many. Trade routes were firmly established, ports bustled with activity, and its influence stretched far beyond the Axe and Nymeris.

Robert watched his kingdom grow with pride. The once-isolated lands were now teeming with farmers, merchants, smiths, and artisans. The cities he founded—Zeagan, the capital, and Nymeris, the riverside sanctuary—became centers of trade and culture. The Blackstone Legion stood as the guardians of the realm, their reputation growing with each battle fought and won.

While his kingdom grew, so did Robert’s family. Over the years, he fathered two more children, each inheriting his striking black hair and piercing blue eyes, a lineage unmistakably tied to House Baratheon.

His eldest son, Eddard Stormrage, had already shown signs of a natural leader, brave and daring, with a fascination for dragons. The bond he shared with the dragon hatchlings in the Spine Mountains only grew stronger as they matured, and he often spoke of flying one day, just like his father.

The two younger children, Nymeria and Nymella, were equally full of promise. Nymeria had her father’s fierce determination and quick wit, while Nymella displayed an analytical mind, always curious about how things worked and how cities were built.

Robert often watched them play in the courtyards of Zeagan’s fortress, feeling a sense of pride—and concern. He knew the world would never let his family live in peace without challenges.

Stormrage had become a land of opportunity. Word of its prosperity spread across Essos and even reached Westeros. Displaced peasants, exiled lords, former slaves, and ambitious traders all flocked to the kingdom, seeking a better life under Robert’s protection.

New villages sprouted along the riverbanks and coasts, and the forests were cleared to make room for more farmland. Stone fortresses were built along key trade routes to protect caravans from bandits and marauders.

In the ports, ships laden with spices, silks, and metals came and went, bringing wealth and influence. Fishermen thrived along the Bitterweed Bay, and blacksmiths turned the iron mined from the Spine Mountains into weapons and tools.

The kingdom was no longer just a safe haven—it had become a powerful force that commanded respect.

Although the Dothraki and pirate threats diminished, smaller skirmishes persisted. Bandits raided outlying villages, and slavers occasionally tried to reclaim what they had lost.

But Robert’s armies—bolstered by the Blackstone Legion—proved more than capable of handling these threats. His soldiers were well-trained, disciplined, and loyal, having earned their freedom and a place in the kingdom.

Robert often led battles personally, earning the respect of his men. They followed him not because of his title, but because of his strength and leadership.

Still, Robert remained vigilant. He knew larger threats could emerge at any time. The Free Cities kept a wary eye on Stormrage’s rise, and Westeros’s noble houses were uneasy about a kingdom led by a dragonlord.

Robert often found himself staring into the horizon from the balcony of his keep, imagining what the future might hold. Would his children continue his legacy? Would Stormrage become a kingdom to rival the Free Cities or even the Seven Kingdoms?

His dreams of dragons and conquest had not faded. The dragon hatchlings were growing quickly, and Eddard often talked about flying alongside his father. Robert envisioned his children leading dragon-backed legions across Essos, bringing order to the lawless lands.

But for now, his focus remained on securing his borders and strengthening his kingdom.

The Blackstone Legion continued to thrive, expanding its numbers and influence. They patrolled the borders, crushed rebellions, and trained new recruits. Holden Cross, their leader, became one of Robert’s most trusted advisors, helping govern the growing kingdom.

Their reputation as warriors of justice attracted more people to Stormrage. Former mercenaries, exiled knights, and even deserters from other armies swore loyalty to the Legion, eager to fight for something greater than gold.

Robert often visited their barracks, overseeing training sessions and sparring with recruits. Despite his royal status, he never let go of his warrior roots, earning him the unwavering loyalty of his soldiers.

Robert’s dual identity—a warrior-king and a dragonlord—cemented his rule. He was loved by his people for protecting them and feared by his enemies for his ruthlessness.

In Zeagan, festivals celebrated his victories, and statues were erected in his honor. Bards sang songs of his battles, and children played games pretending to ride dragons like their king.

But Robert never let the praise go to his head. He spent his nights reading reports, analyzing trade agreements, and planning expansions. He knew that building an empire required more than strength—it required vision.

As the sun set over Zeagan, Robert stood on the balcony of his keep, watching his children play below. The kingdom he built had grown stronger than he ever imagined, but he knew this was only the beginning.

He turned his gaze to the Spine Mountains, where Cannibal rested with his mate and their growing brood of dragons.

The day began like any other in Zeagan. The bustling streets echoed with the sounds of merchants peddling their goods, blacksmiths hammering iron, and children laughing as they played near the city’s towering walls. But all activity came to a halt when a shadow darkened the skies above the capital.

Robert Stronghammer, seated in the Great Hall of Zeagan, stood abruptly, his eyes fixed on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The people outside were pointing at the sky in disbelief. A dragon was descending.

Not just any dragon—it was the massive she-dragon, the mate of Cannibal. Her black scales shimmered like polished obsidian under the sun, and her piercing amber eyes scanned the crowd below as she landed with a thunderous impact, cracking the cobblestones.

And upon her back sat Eddard Stormrage, Robert’s eldest son.

Robert rushed outside, his heart pounding. He had expected his son to bond with the red hatchling, a dragon that Eddard had shown great affection for since its birth. But never—not in his wildest thoughts—did he imagine Eddard would claim the mate of Cannibal, a creature so wild and untamable that even Robert himself had kept his distance.

“Eddard!” Robert shouted as he approached. The crowd parted, making way for their king.

Eddard, barely ten years old, slid down the massive dragon’s side and landed on the ground with surprising ease. His clothes were torn, his face smeared with dirt and soot, but his eyes burned with triumph.

“She’s mine, Father,” Eddard said, grinning. “Her name is Arya.”

Robert stood stunned. “Arya?”

“Yes,” Eddard confirmed, patting the dragon’s neck. The beast lowered her head and let out a low growl, sending tremors through the courtyard. “She’s wild, but she listens to me.”

The people gathered in the courtyard whispered in awe and fear. The Blackstone Legion arrived, swords at the ready, but Robert raised his hand, stopping them.

“Hold your ground,” Robert commanded.

Arya raised her head and let out a deafening roar, silencing the murmurs. But Robert saw no hostility in her eyes—only pride and defiance, traits she clearly shared with her new rider.

Robert turned to his son. “How?”

Eddard’s grin faltered for a moment. “I spent my free time in the mountains, watching them. I climbed higher each day, and I kept feeding her and talking to her. At first, she didn’t care, but then she let me touch her.”

Eddard’s voice grew more excited. “And today, when I climbed up, she let me ride her! She flew, Father—we flew together!”

Robert looked at his son carefully, then at Arya, who curled protectively around Eddard. It was unbelievable—this dragon, larger than most in the histories of Valyria, had chosen his son.

“You’re just like me,” Robert finally said, pride welling up in his chest. “You’ve tamed a beast no one thought could be tamed.”

The bond between Eddard and Arya was undeniable. The dragon’s movements mirrored Eddard’s confidence, and even the Blackstone Legion, hardened warriors, watched the pair with a mixture of awe and unease.

Arya’s wild temperament reflected Eddard’s impulsive nature, but there was also trust between them—a connection that no one could ignore.

“She’s beautiful,” said Holden Cross, standing beside Robert. “But she’s dangerous, my king. The people fear her.”

“They should,” Robert replied, his voice firm. “Let them fear her—and respect her. She is a symbol of our strength. My son has proven himself today, Holden. And soon, he will prove himself to the world.”

Holden nodded. “A second dragon in Stormrage means no one will dare challenge us now.”

That night, Zeagan erupted in celebrations. Feasts were held, songs were sung, and bonfires lit the skies. The people cheered for Prince Eddard Stormrage, now hailed as the Dragon Prince, and Arya, the Storm Queen.

But Robert couldn’t shake a sense of unease. He knew what this meant—power attracts enemies.

Cannibal was already feared across Essos, but now, with a second dragon, Stormrage had become a kingdom to be reckoned with. The Free Cities and Westeros would be watching more closely, and not all of them would view Stormrage’s rise favorably.

Later, as the celebrations wound down, Robert spoke to Eddard privately.

“You’ve done something incredible today,” Robert said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “But this isn’t just about you anymore. Arya’s strength will make people jealous and afraid. They’ll try to use you or kill you to control her.”

Eddard’s face hardened. “Let them try. Arya and I are ready.”

Robert smiled but his tone was serious. “Good. But you must also be smart. Strength alone won’t protect you. Learn to think like a king, like a leader. You are my heir, Eddard, and one day this kingdom will be yours.”

Eddard nodded, his expression determined. “I won’t let you down, Father.”

The following weeks saw Arya and Eddard flying frequently over Zeagan and the surrounding lands. The sight of two massive dragons patrolling the skies struck awe into the hearts of the people and terror into Stormrage’s enemies.

Robert continued to expand the kingdom’s defenses, while secretly wondering about the three remaining hatchlings in Cannibal’s lair. Would they bond with his other children? Or with someone else?

The winds carried whispers of Stormrage's second dragon far beyond the borders of Essos. Word of the black-scaled Arya soaring through the skies alongside the fearsome Cannibal reached the ears of kings, merchants, and warlords alike. The rumors painted King Robert Stormrage not only as a ruler with power but as a dragonlord reborn—a man whose lineage was touched by Valyria’s blood and fire.

The richest merchants of Essos wasted no time. Their fleets arrived at Zeagan’s bustling ports, their ships weighed down with gold, spices, jewels, and rare silks. Processions of exotic dancers, skilled artisans, and even beautiful concubines walked through the gates, hoping to earn Robert’s favor.

Robert sat upon his stone throne, a seat carved from the very rocks of the Spine Mountains, overlooking the crowded Great Hall. The room buzzed with murmurs and tension as nobles, merchants, and mercenaries presented their offerings.

A merchant from Volantis, dressed in orange silk and gold rings, stepped forward first.

“My King, I come bearing ten chests of gold, five thousand soldiers, and three ships armed for battle. All I ask for is the gift of a single dragon egg.”

Robert leaned back in his chair, his sharp blue eyes studying the man. “And what do you plan to do with a dragon?”

The merchant hesitated. “Protect my trade routes. Strengthen Volantis’ position. Secure wealth and prosperity.”

Robert’s lips curled into a smirk. “You mean burn your enemies alive and enslave those who resist you.”

The merchant paled. “N-No, my King. That’s not—”

Robert raised his hand, cutting him off. “I will not give dragons to those who only know greed. Leave my hall.”

Guards stepped in, escorting the stammering merchant away as whispers rippled through the crowd.

A woman clad in flowing red silk, her face hidden behind a sheer veil, approached next. Her amber eyes shimmered in the torchlight.

“I come not with gold or armies, but with myself, my King,” she said, her voice soft yet commanding. “I am Zayara of Lys, trained in the arts of pleasure and shadow magic. I offer loyalty and devotion. In return, I ask for nothing but the bond of fire—a dragon that I can serve and protect as my own.”

Robert raised a brow. “You offer yourself for a dragon?”

“I offer my soul for your empire,” she replied, stepping closer. “Together, we can rule all of Essos.”

For a moment, Robert considered her words. He saw ambition in her eyes, not unlike what he once saw in Rhaenyra. But ambition alone could not tame dragons.

“I have no need for shadows, Zayara. Nor do I give my fire to strangers.” He gestured for her to leave.

As the merchants and nobles departed, one messenger arrived bearing a royal seal from King’s Landing.

“His Grace, King Viserys Targaryen, sends word,” the messenger announced. “He congratulates King Robert Stormrage on his growing kingdom and seeks peaceful relations. However, His Grace warns of the dangerous precedent set by dragons outside Targaryen control.”

Robert scowled. “A warning disguised as diplomacy. Typical Targaryen hypocrisy.”

The messenger shifted uncomfortably. “His Grace extends an invitation for King Robert to visit King’s Landing and discuss matters of cooperation.”

Holden Cross stepped forward. “They don’t want cooperation, my King. They want control. They’re afraid that Stormrage might become another Valyria, and they’ll burn this kingdom to the ground before letting that happen.”

Robert’s jaw tightened. “Then let them come. If they bring dragons, they will find mine waiting.”

Later that night, Robert stood on the balcony of his castle, gazing at the star-filled sky. Cannibal rested on the cliffs, while Arya curled protectively around Eddard Stormrage, who had fallen asleep beside her.

The sight filled Robert with pride—and dread. He knew the fragile balance of power would soon shatter.

Two dragons were enough to terrify the world.

But five dragon hatchlings still rested in the Spine Mountains. Five more dragons could either save his kingdom or plunge it into chaos.

Veyra and Esha, the rumored descendants of Rhoynar royalty, joined Robert on the balcony, their flowing robes shimmering in the moonlight.

“You look troubled,” Veyra said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Robert’s eyes flickered with determination. “The Dance of Dragons is coming. But this time, Stormrage will rise—and we will not fall.”

The next day, Robert gathered his council. Plans were drawn to fortify Stormrage and the surrounding lands, preparing for the inevitable storm. Spies were dispatched to Westeros and the Free Cities, tasked with uncovering plots and threats.

The Blackstone Legion doubled their training regimens, and dragon riders were secretly prepared to bond with the unhatched eggs.

And as the kingdom of Stormrage prepared for the battles to come, Robert stood at the head of it all—a king who had risen from nothing, commanding the loyalty of men and the fury of dragons.