Just as Lord Ormund had predicted, another raven eventually arrived at the Hightower, once again with news from King's Landing. Upon being led to the rookery, Daeron quickly noted that it was the largest raven that he had ever saw, though he couldn't exactly be sure since he wasn't exactly familiar with ravens. It did look like it could fly farther and for longer than a normal raven, but he didn't know why he would be worthy of such special treatment. Half the small council now consisted of close family members, so he ultimately came to the conclusion that he should stop being surprised over such things. Maester Trebayn proceeded to read aloud the letter, which proved to be both short and blunt. By the end Lord Ormund was grinding his teeth and Daeron only wished that it had been longer and more personal. Nothing that asked about his wellbeing, nor being recalled back to King's Landing for his father's funeral... just a royal missive for him to go to the Eyrie to court the Arryns to join his brother's cause, and that was it. He could only frown when the words finally came to an end.

Lord Ormund began to rub his temples as he turned towards Daeron. "I had hoped that the small council would have seen the value of keeping you here under my protection, instead of flinging you off to the other side of Westeros aimlessly."

"My lord," Maester Trebayn began as he directly addressed Lord Ormund, "if I may?" As the maester finished his question, Daeron couldn't help but to recognize the interesting dichotomy between both of the older men. The prince didn't exactly know how tall Ormund was, but it had to be well over six feet if he had to guess. The maester on the other hand was smaller than even Daeron, who was already significantly shorter than either of his brothers. The chain around his neck hung nearly to his waist, forged from countless different metal links, and it was a common enough rumor in the Hightower that Trebayn had once been a candidate for the position of Grand Maester, though the reasons as to why he was passed over was likely unknown to all, other than the maester himself. Though both the lord and the maester were generally both men of few words, it was clear that whenever Trebayn spoke, it was to give wise counsel, wisdom, or advice. As for Lord Ormund, he just disliked ever having to repeat himself, and despite always heeding the words of those subordinate to him, once he got set on a path, he'd see it through to the end. In this capacity, Daeron realized, the two suited one another quite well.

As Lord Ormund gave his consent, the maester continued. "You prepare for war... which is the sensible thing to do in these... times. However, you must remember that such tides have yet to wash over Westeros. Is it not wiser for the rightful king to make as many friends, as many allies as possible, to hopefully dissaude Princess Rhaenyra from taking up arms against King Aegon? And Daeron would surely be honored to have such an opportunity to potentially usher in peace." Daeron's head jerked towards the maester upon hearing those last few words, and his gaze was met with a smile, even though he had a sinking feeling that Trebayn wasn't entirely interested in looking out for his wellbeing.

"You don't know Rhaenyra and Daemon very well do you?" Ormund sighed. "But aye, you have much of the right of it. We have to push as many houses onto our side as possible, either with force or by words, if only to lessen the advantages that the other side already holds. Still, I do wish the small council would [i]honor[/i] me for once by not making things needlessly more difficult." He turned towards Daeron, who had yet to speak. "Tell us your thoughts on this, as it will be your burden if you plan to follow through with this."

Although he seemed to be presented with a choice, Daeron truly knew that it was a falsehood, as there was no way he could defy his brother, even if he wasn't King... he had gained enough scars by learning that. "I don't want war, no more than anyone else, and if I can do anything to help... then I have to push forward without hesitation."

Ormund only gave Daeron a glance, as if he had something in particular to say to his squire, only to ultimately keep it to himself. "If it had been up to me, I would have sent you for Highgarden, to prod the Tyrells into action. I can give you half a dozen good men and horse to get you started for the Eyrie as soon as possible."

"There's no need," Daeron said firmly. "I was planning to ride Tessarion there." There was no faster way to travel than by dragon, and this was a matter of expedience, should Rhaenyra and her council come to the same conclusion. Though, in honesty, it had been far too long since Daeron had the last opportunity to ride Tessarion for an extended period, and he certainly didn't want to pass that over. He hadn't been apart from Tessarion since they truly bonded, and what was a Targaryen worth without his dragon?

Ormund gave him a piercing look that made Daeron feel like a child who spoke out of turn. Noise grew amongst the ravens as if they could feel the same pressure that was emanating from the towering lord of Oldtown. "I would highly advise against that," Ormund put simply. "If I remember correctly, Lady Jeyne and Princess Rhaenyra were inseparable as girls. Those feelings for one another likely still exist, and if you were to go there alone... your safety may be in question."

"The Arryns are an honorable house, are they not?" Daeron argued. "I don't think they would strike against any guest of theirs, no matter who they may be." 

"Wouldn't stop her from throwing you in one of their sky cells and formally declare for her childhood friend. You'd be a valuable hostage."

Maester Trebayn then cut into the conversation, as if he had been a part of it all along. "If I remind you, my lord, but Lady Jeyne Arryn has yet to declare for either side. Why is that?"

"Prince Daemon," Ormund said without hesitation. "The man has an unnatural talent for burning bridges, sometimes literally... especially during peacetime. War is what he was truly made for, and that is what frightens me."

"More the reason to try to prevent war." Maester Trebayn added.

"Even if I can't get her on Aegon's side, perhaps I can still convince her to sit out the war. Not all of Westeros have to bleed for the Iron Throne." He knew that speaking to Lady Jeyne alone would be a uphill battle, but he had always gotten along well with other people, even if most still saw him as a boy. Who else could they have sent? Aemond? He was far too confrontational. Negotations would end before they even began, assuming he didn't fall into one of his moods and threaten to burn down the entire castle. No, it had to be him, he couldn't imagine anyone else.

"Very well. You'll need provisions for the journey, even if it's upon dragonback. Leave by the morrow, it does sound like you're in a hurry." With that, he turned and left the rookery, descending down the stairs, but he gave Daeron one final glance. "Oh, and once you're finished at the Eyrie, return here. You're still my squire, and that's a fact that even the new king needs to acknowledge." Then he disappeared completely, with the maester soon scuttling after him. This left Daeron alone, his only company being that that of the sqawking ravens, who grew noisier by the second.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Daeron didn't speak again with Ormund again prior to his departure, though he did actively work in getting Daeron ready for his diplomatic mission. Even if he was going upon a dragon, he didn't want to push Tessarion so hard... he'd take an easy pace and arrive within a few days. He had no intention of stopping to rest at an inn, and seeking shelter with a noble lord was entirely out of the question, as it was nearly impossible to exactly determine who was on each side at this point. Besides, he had grown up hearing tales of Larys Clubfoot's massive spy network, and he couldn't risk whether or not his half-sister didn't already have a master of whispers that was his equal. With the necessary supplies filling his sizeable pack, he made sure to fasten a sword to his belt. It was the one given to him by his father right before he left for Oldtown, and though he doubted he would have use for it, it still was comforting to have a memento of his father with him for this journey. He knew he could find additional courage if his father was watching over him.

The clothes that he would be wearing weren't any elaborate or grand- even if the way to the Eyrie was greatly expediated by flight, he still valued being comfortable for the journey over looking nice. Besides, he doubted Lady Jeyne would care much for how he looked, even if that very thought made both of Daeron's cheeks redden a bit. He would be wearing little more than a leather jerkin, worn over a longsleeved linen shirt, along with trousers of sturdy material, and leather boots. He also had gloves and a travel cloak, as it does get frightenly cold when one flies high enough, though the heat that emanates from a dragon's scales does much to mitigate some of it. 

By this time, he had already descended the stairs to the courtyard where Tessarion was often kept. She was unchained, courtesy of the servants, and he would have loved to see their attempts at getting her chains off. She wasn't very aggressive generally, but she was still a dragon. And once again, she knew that he was coming. Daeron didn't know if it was because she could smell him, sense him, or if it was some kind of magic unknown to all except for dragons. Whatever the case may be, she watched him attentively, keeping an eye on his every step as he got closer and closer. She greeted him as she often did, nuzzling her nose into him to the point where he was nearly pushed to the ground, but like so many times before, he managed to stay on his feet, if only barely. Her body, of course, was warm to the touch, partly due to the sun that was hanging in the sky high above them, but also due to the fires that raged within. Cold winds were blowing, both figuratively and literally, and Daeron was glad that he would have Tessarion at his side for the coming days.

He securely fastened anything important so that it wouldn't come flying off when they took off, and looked at the dragon with a wide grin on his face. "You ready, Tess?" The blue dragon gave an affirmative roar, which probably terrified anyone who had the misfortune of being within earshot. Despite Daeron being at the Hightower these past two years, nearly everyone was still wary of Tessarion, though he supposed he couldn't truly blame them- one needed the blood of Old Valyria to truly understand. Aemond would probably call them sheep, though Daeron was far less harsh when it came to non-dragon riders. Before he got on Tessarion, Daeron had one last fleeting thought towards the Hightower itself. He thought back on the last two years that he had spent there, and though not every memory was necessarily pleasant, it all contributed to shaping him into what he was now- nearly a man grown. He had every intention of following through with Lord Ormund's intentions... except that Daeron intended to stop at King's Landing before heading back to Oldtown. There was really no question in his mind that he [i]had[/i] to do that. He wanted to pray in front of his father's resting place, he still had such a right to do so, didn't he? And more importantly, he wanted to see his family. He had so many unanswered questions swirling around in his head, things that he didn't know that he rightfully should. So much had changed in such a short amount of time... he feared that he would see nothing but strangers in his brothers. He gave a sigh before finally getting on Tessarion- he couldn't let himself be dragged down when he still had a greater mission to achieve.

If Tessarion was truly the Blue Queen, then her domain must be the skies themselves. She took off from the ground below with such a smoothness and quickness, that it should be clear to all that she was the nimblest of all the dragons, with only a few exceptions. As they got higher, the buildings of Oldtown became smaller, and the people grew into ants before disappearing completely. The Hightower was aptly named, and it would be something that he'd look back on for miles... until he couldn't, and that would be when he would know that it would only be him and Tessarion from there on out. He took care to fly high and away from heavily used roads. This was far from some kind of stealth mission, but he preferred to take such precautions. Anyone spotting a dragon flying over head wouldn't be quick to forget, and he didn't want to potentially jeopardize his safety or anyone else's. Flying at such an altitude was deathly cold to Daeron, and he had to make Tessarion dip much lower every so often so that he didn't end up freezing to death. Tessarion didn't seem to mind either way- the cold winds didn't really seem to affect the dragon.

The trip ended up largely uneventful, in which Daeron was perfectly content with. His greatest fear was a confrontation. Risking his own life was one thing, but also putting Tessarion in danger? He just wasn't ready to make that choice, and hoped that he'd never need to, either. When needing to rest, they did so in the remote countryside, far away from any roads or pockets of civilization. He allowed Tessarion to hunt to feed herself, and she often brought back something for him as well, which usually beat the pack of salted beef that he had brought with him. Travelling alone with Tessarion seemed like the fulfillment of his wildest dreams, and it took much of his resolve to not abandon his mission entirely. What he wouldn't give to have the ability to travel the world with his dragon to see all the wonders of man, of great cities only heard of in story tales... but he knew better. He had so many people relying on him and he couldn't fail them. He had learned from his father that a man has nothing without their family. In that, he wholeheartedly believed in, even if it meant coming into conflict with his half-sister.

By the time he had reached the mountains of the Vale, he had begun to fly noticeably lower. Concealing his presence was quickly becoming a moot point, and the air had become far colder than Daeron was used to after two years in Oldtown. He didn't know if it was the air or the beauty of the mountains themselves, but every so often, he could feel his breath catch in his throat as he admired all the scenery that was seemingly engulfing him. It pained him that he wouldn't be afforded the opportunity to fully enjoy them while he was here, as the pressure of his monumental task was only beginning to weigh on him. As he followed the mountain road, he soon noticed the heavy snows that had already fallen. [i]Winter is soon upon us,[/i] Daeron thought to himself, [i]even if it has yet to be felt fully in the south.[/i]

The snow would have slowed him to a crawl if he had chosen conventional means of travel, if the fearsome mountain clans didn't pick him off before then. He would have had to travel in a large party, and even that wouldn't guarantee his safety. Before long, he entered a narrow pass that fed into a massive gate, watched over by twin towers. Daeron had heard the stories of countless armies smashing themselves against the Bloody Gate to no avail, but he had a dragon and could just fly above it if he wished to. But why should he entitle himself to a different standard just because he happened to be a dragon rider? He was better than no other man who had come to the gate before, and should be received as the same. Tessarion descended swiftly to the the ground below and made a loud crunch in the snow once she made contact. All was silent and still before him, not so much as a sign of life could be detected, but Daeron knew the gate was manned by dozens of knights. Were they baffled that he had not just flown over instead? Or was this the first time that they had ever seen a dragon and were scared at what he could potentially unleash upon them all? Tessarion, growing impatient, let out a deafening roar, only growing louder as it echoed into the mountains.

At that, an answer was finally returned. A booming voice that showed no signs of fear or hesitation, putting forward a simple question. "Who would pass the Bloody Gate?"

The reality of the situation hit Daeron upon hearing those few words. After coming from such a distance, he was practically a stone's throw away from the Eyrie itself. He felt so very small when compared to the gate iself, to the mountains, to everything. However, he knew that he hadn't come all this way to be seen trembling with fear or cold. He sat up straight, but remained on his dragon, figuring it was a wiser course of action to associate himself with a large, fire-breathing beast.

"I am Prince Daeron Targaryen, third living son of the late King Viserys Targaryen, the First of His Name. I come before you under a banner of peace and friendship, as an envoy of the one rightful king of these lands, Aegon Targaryen, the Second of His Name. I humbly beseech upon you the right to enter further into your lands so I may find audience with your liege lady, Jeyne Arryn. Insofar that we may discuss the dangers that the future holds for all of Westeros and how we may ably face them, together."

Silence. Then a man appeared, as did others, but this one had red and white diamonds upon his surcoat. [i]This must be the Knight of the Bloody Gate,[/i] Daeron thought to himself. "And who goes with you?"

For a moment, Daeron's breath once again caught in his throat. "None other than the dragon Tessarion, who is as magestic and beautiful of a beast than has ever lived before." At that Tessarion gave Daeron an angry look at the mention of the word 'beast'. He'd have to thoroughly apologize to her later.

Then began a discussion among all the knights, far out of earshot of Daeron, though he strained the best that he could to hear even a snippet of a word. When they finally came to a consensus, the Knight of the Bloody Gate turned back to face Daeron. "A raven shall be sent to the Eyrie, and you may pass through these gates, but you may go no farther than the Gates of the Moon until you receive blessing from Lady Jeyne herself to head up to the Eyrie itself. Is that understood?"

Daeron nodded. "I appreciate the kindness-"

"No kindness," the knight grunted. "Too many bloody dragons flying about. Keeping you grounded will give everyone peace of mind."

[i]Dragons? Did he mean that there was more than one dragon now in the Vale? Or was it just a figure of speech?[/i] Before Daeron could inquire further all the knights present stood aside as massive gate came screeching open, allowing Daeron entry into the Mountains of the Moon. Daeron looked back upon the knight, but he clearly wasn't interested in an interrogation. He kept silent, steadying himself on his dragon, and went on, ready for the trials and tribulations that would soon come before him.