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"Vengeance is a poison that blinds its drinker, consuming the just and unjust alike."
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep hues of purple and indigo. The stars seemed dimmer tonight, as if they, too, mourned the loss that had befallen House Velaryon. The gentle lapping of waves against the shoreline was the only sound that broke the heavy silence that hung over the beach.
Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, stood as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the spot where his son's coffin had disappeared beneath the waves hours ago. Beside him, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, his wife and partner in both life and grief, mirrored his stance. Their shoulders, usually proud and straight, were slightly hunched.
Three hours had passed since they had watched Laenor's body sink into the depths of the Narrow Sea, but still, they remained. It was a Velaryon tradition to keep vigil for six hours, watching the sea, hoping the sea would return what it claimed.
The sea was as cruel as it was beautiful, and it never gave back what it claimed.
The sun began to sink towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Corlys and Rhaenys stood on the same platform, their eyes fixed on the endless expanse of the Narrow Sea. For six hours, they had maintained their vigil.
As the sixth hour drew to a close, Corlys reached out and gently took Rhaenys's hand in his own. His voice was barely a whisper, cracking with emotion. "It's time, my love."
Rhaenys's shoulders shook slightly as she nodded, unable to speak. Tears glistened in her eyes.
Corlys turned to face the sea once more, his grip on Rhaenys's hand tightening. "Laenor," he began, his voice stronger now but filled with a deep, aching sorrow. "My son. Our brave, beautiful boy."
Rhaenys found her voice, though it trembled with each word. "We... we waited for you, sweetling. We hoped..."
"But now we must say goodbye," Corlys continued, a single tear rolling down his weathered cheek. "You were the best of us, Laenor. Kind, brave, and true."
Rhaenys leaned into her husband, drawing strength from his presence. "I remember the day you first rode Seasmoke," she said, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "You were so small, but your eyes... they shone with such joy, such wonder."
Corlys nodded, lost in the memory. "You made us proud every day, son. Every single day."
"We love you, Laenor," Rhaenys said, her voice breaking. "We will always love you. And we will see justice done for you, I swear it by the old gods and the new."
Corlys took a deep, shuddering breath. "Rest now, my boy. Sail the endless seas of the afterlife. And know that you are loved, and missed, and remembered."
As the last light faded from the sky, Corlys gently tugged on Rhaenys's hand. "Come, my love. It's time to go inside."
Slowly, reluctantly, they turned away from the sea. But just before they stepped back into High Tide, Rhaenys paused. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the darkening horizon one last time.
"Goodbye, my sweet boy," she whispered. "Until we meet again."
With those final words, Corlys and Rhaenys walked into High Tide, leaving behind the sea that had taken their son but would forever hold their hearts.
As they made their way back to their chamber, upon entering, Corlys closed the door as his wife sat on the bed, looking on the brink of sobbing. "Rhaenys," he said. "Are you still as skilled with Meleys as you once were?"
Rhaenys turned her head slightly, regarding her husband with a mix of surprise and curiosity. It was an odd question to ask at such a moment, but she knew Corlys well enough to understand that his mind was always working, always planning.
"I am," she replied, her voice low and filled with a combination of sorrow and something harder, colder. "Perhaps even better. Meleys and I have grown together over the years. Why do you ask?"
Corlys nodded, a grim satisfaction settling over his features. "Good," he said. "Because I have a plan, my love. A plan to make those responsible for our son's death pay dearly."
Rhaenys felt a spark of interest ignite within her, pushing back the numbing fog of grief for a moment. "Tell me," she urged, her voice gaining strength.
Corlys took a deep breath. "We're going to attack Dorne," he said, his voice low but filled with conviction. "We're going to burn it to the ground until there's nothing left but ash and memory."
A shiver ran through Rhaenys, not of fear but of anticipation. The dragon within her, long dormant, stirred at the prospect of vengeance. "Dorne," she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue like a promise of retribution. "You're certain it was them?"
Corlys nodded grimly. "Our sailors have confirmed this. The Martells are behind this, though they've tried to cover their tracks. But they've made a grave mistake in underestimating us."
Rhaenys's eyes narrowed. But then a thought occurred to her, dampening her enthusiasm. "The wildfire," she said, her brow furrowing. "Meleys is strong and powerful, but even she can be harmed by it. How do you propose we deal with that threat?"
A cold look spread on his face; for a moment, he appeared twenty years younger. "Ah, my dear," he said, a hint of his old swagger returning to his voice. "I've already thought of that. I have an idea on how to counter the Wildfire, even when it's hidden inside ships."
Intrigued. "Tell me more,"
A small smile played at the corners of Corlys's mouth as he moved to the table, gesturing for Rhaenys to join him. "Wildfire is incredibly flammable," he began, his voice low and measured. "It's what makes it so devastating. But that very quality can be its undoing."
He picked up a small model ship, turning it over in his hands as he spoke. "We'll outfit our fleet with specialized weaponry. Scorpions and catapults, but not just any ordinary ones. These will be designed to launch large, burning spears and flaming rocks."
Rhaenys's eyes widened as she began to understand. "And even the smallest contact with fire..."
"Will ignite the wildfire stored within their ships," Corlys finished, nodding. "The entire vessel would explode in flames, destroyed by the very weapon they intended to use against us."
Rhaenys leaned in, studying the map more closely. "It's brilliant, Corlys. But how do we ensure our own ships aren't caught in the blaze?"
"Distance and precision, my dear. Our ships will be equipped with the finest Myrish far-eyes, allowing our men to target the enemy vessels from a safe range. We'll also use the winds to our advantage, positioning our fleet upwind of the enemy."
He moved several model ships across the map, demonstrating as he spoke. "We'll approach in a crescent formation, using our fastest ships as scouts to locate the enemy fleet. Once we've pinpointed their position, we'll maneuver to flank them, cutting off their escape routes."
Rhaenys nodded, her tactical mind already expanding on the plan. "And what of Meleys? How can I best support the fleet?"
Corlys smiled, appreciating his wife's eagerness to contribute. "You and Meleys will be our ace in the hole. While our ships engage the enemy from a distance, you can use Meleys's speed and agility to target any ships that manage to break through our lines. Your role will be crucial in preventing any enemies from escaping and potentially warning Dorne of our approach."
He paused, his expression growing serious. "But Rhaenys, you must promise me you'll maintain a high altitude. The risk of Wildfire is too great for low swooping attacks. Use Meleys's flame from above, targeting the decks and sails rather than the hulls where the Wildfire is likely stored."
Rhaenys placed a hand on her husband's arm, her touch reassuring. "I understand, Corlys. I'll be careful."
Corlys nodded, then turned back to the map. "Now, let's discuss the specifics of our fleet composition. We'll need a mix of heavy warships for our main assault and lighter, faster vessels for scouting and pursuit."
He began arranging the model ships with practiced ease. "Our heaviest ships, armed with the largest scorpions and catapults, will form the center of our crescent. They'll be our main firing power, raining down burning projectiles on the enemy fleet."
Rhaenys leaned in, her keen mind already grasping the strategy. "And the flanks?"
"The flanks will be composed of our swifter ships," Corlys explained. "They'll be responsible for maintaining the formation and preventing any enemy vessels from slipping past our lines. These ships will be equipped with smaller, more maneuverable versions of our fire-launching weapons."
He pointed to several points along the coastline. "We'll also station picket ships here, here, and here. Their job will be to watch for any reinforcements coming from Dorne and to ensure we're not outflanked."
Rhaenys nodded approvingly. "A sound strategy. But what of the pirate ships? They're likely to be faster and more maneuverable than the Dornish war galleys."
Corlys's eyes lit up at the question. "We'll use their speed against them. Our formation will appear to have gaps, tempting openings for the nimble pirate ships to exploit."
He rearranged several of the model ships, creating small breaks in the line. "But these gaps will be carefully planned killing zones. As soon as a pirate ship enters, our flanking vessels will close in, trapping them in a crossfire of flaming projectiles."
Rhaenys couldn't help but smile at her husband's cunning. "And with their ships laden with stolen wildfire..."
"They'll become floating infernos," Corlys finished, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "The pirates' greed will be their undoing."
He stepped back from the table, his gaze sweeping over the entire map. "But we must be prepared for the unexpected. War at sea is unpredictable, and we must be ready to adapt our strategy at a moment's notice."
"That's where your experience comes in, my love. There's no admiral in all of Westeros more qualified to lead this assault."
Corlys turned to her, his expression softening. "And no warrior I'd rather have by my side than you, Rhaenys. Together, we will bring justice for Laenor and security to our shores."
He took a deep breath, his voice filled with determination. "We'll begin preparations immediately. I'll personally oversee the modifications to our ships and the training of our crews. Every captain, every archer, every sailor must understand their role in this plan."
Rhaenys nodded, her own resolve matching his. "And I'll work with our dragon riders, ensuring they're prepared to support the fleet without endangering themselves or our ships."
Rhaenys liked the idea, but there was something else she needed to bring up to her husband. "Corlys," she said softly, breaking the silence. He looked up, his eyes softening as they met hers. She moved to stand beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "We need to talk about Laena."
Corlys straightened, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Laena? What about her? Is she alright?"
Rhaenys nodded, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "She's... managing. But there's something you should know. She has Vhagar now."
Corlys blinked, his brow furrowing. "Vhagar? But how... when?"
"She mounted him the same day we learned about..." Rhaenys's voice caught for a moment. "About Laenor. She flew off on her own, and when she returned, she was astride the largest dragon in the world."
Corlys took a step back, leaning against the table as he processed this information. "Gods," he muttered, running a hand through his silver hair. "How could I have forgotten about that? I remember her telling us now, but it's all been such a blur..."
Rhaenys squeezed his arm gently. "It's understandable."
Corlys nodded slowly, his tactical mind already whirring with possibilities. "Vhagar," he mused. "Viseny's dragon. This changes everything."
Rhaenys could see the wheels turning in her husband's mind. "Indeed it does," she said. "Vhagar's scales are almost indestructible. Even Wildfire might not be able to harm him. The older a dragon gets, the hotter their fire becomes, and Vhagar is ancient."
A gleam of excitement lit up Corlys's eyes. "With Vhagar at our side, we could decimate the Dornish fleet before they even had a chance to use their Wildfire. And the pirates in the Stepstones... they wouldn't stand a chance against such power."
As Corlys began to pace, sketching out battle plans in his mind, Rhaenys felt a knot of anxiety form in her stomach. She had known this conversation was coming, but that didn't make it any easier.
"Corlys," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "Perhaps... perhaps it's better if Laena is not part of this war."
Corlys stopped his pacing, turning to face his wife with a questioning look. "Not part of it? But with Vhagar, she could be our greatest asset."
Rhaenys took a deep breath, steeling herself. "She's too young," she argued, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. "She's not ready for the horrors of war."
Corlys studied his wife's face, his eyes softening as understanding dawned. "Ah, my love," he said gently, moving to take her hands in his. "You don't want to risk losing our only remaining child."
Rhaenys felt tears prick at her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. "Is that so wrong?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "We've already lost Laenor. I couldn't bear to lose... Laena too."
Corlys pulled her into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Of course it's not wrong," he murmured into her hair. "I share your fear. The thought of losing Laena... I don't want to think about."
They stood like that for a long moment, drawing comfort from each other's presence. Finally, Corlys pulled back slightly, cupping Rhaenys's face in his hands.
"But my dear," he said softly, "do you really think our daughter will stay put if we order her not to fight?"
Rhaenys let out a watery chuckle, shaking her head. "No," she admitted. "No, she's too much like us for that."
Corlys nodded, a hint of pride shining through his concern. "She has the blood of the dragon and the sea in her veins. She'll want to avenge her brother as much as we do."
"I know," Rhaenys sighed, moving to sit in one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace. Corlys followed, taking the seat opposite her. "But knowing doesn't make it any easier to accept."
Corlys leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Perhaps we can find a middle ground," he suggested. "We can't keep her out of the fight entirely – she'd never forgive us for that. But we can try to minimize her risk."
Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite her reservations. "How so?"
"We use Vhagar's size and power to our advantage," Corlys explained, his strategic mind working overtime. "Keep Laena high above the main battle, using Vhagar to rain fire down on the enemy ships from a distance. She'd be far less vulnerable there than in the thick of the fighting."
Rhaenys considered this, turning the idea over in her mind. "It could work," she said slowly. "But Laena is headstrong. She might not be content to stay on the fringes of the battle."
Corlys nodded grimly. "True. We'll need to make her understand the importance of her role. Stress that by staying high and picking off enemy ships, she'll be saving countless lives on our side."
They lapsed into silence, both lost in thought. The crackling of the fire and the distant sound of waves against the shore were the only sounds in the room.
Finally, Rhaenys spoke. "We'll need to train them together," she said. "Laena and Vhagar, I mean. They're newly bonded, and while Laena is a skilled rider, Vhagar is... different. Older, more willful."
Corlys nodded. "Agreed. We'll set up training exercises, get them used to working as part of a larger strategy. And it'll give us a chance to assess Laena's skills, see where she might need more guidance."
"And what of you, my love?" Rhaenys asked, reaching out to take his hand. "Will you be content to direct from the flagship, or will you insist on being in the thick of things as always?"
A rueful smile touched Corlys's lips. "You know me too well," he said. "I'll be where I'm needed most. If that's on the flagship, coordinating our forces, then so be it. But if our men need to see the Sea Snake leading the charge..." He shrugged, leaving the implication hanging.
Rhaenys squeezed his hand. "Just promise me you'll be careful," she said. "I couldn't bear to lose you too."
Corlys brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "I promise," he said solemnly. "We've lost too much already. We'll see this through together, and we'll bring our family out the other side."
As the candles burned low, Rhaenys stirred, a new thought occurring to her. "We should speak with Laena soon," she said. "Explain our plans, hear her thoughts. She deserves to be part of this discussion."
Corlys nodded, rising to his feet. "You're right, of course. We'll talk to her in the morning. For now, though, we should try to get some rest. The days ahead will be long and difficult."
Rhaenys stood as well, moving to embrace her husband once more. "Thank you," she murmured against his chest.
"For what?" Corlys asked, his arms tightening around her.
"For understanding," Rhaenys replied. "For being willing to compromise. For loving our children as fiercely as I do."
Corlys pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Always," he promised. "We're in this together, my love. Now and always."
The Princess pulled away slowly and walked up to the map that Corlys had used to explain his strategy. Rhaenys traced her fingers along the coastline of Dorne; her violet eyes narrowed in contemplation. She looked up at her husband and asked, "What about Daemon and Aenar? What roles do you envision for them in this war?"
He moved around the table, picking up a small figurine representing Aenar's dragon, Cannibal. "Cannibal is unique among the dragons," Corlys said. "The only dragon capable of breathing wildfire."
Rhaenys nodded, her eyes fixed on the figurine. "Indeed. But how do you propose we use such a dangerous asset?"
Corlys's eyes lit up with a fierce gleam as an idea began to form in his mind. He set the figurine down on the map, right off the coast of Dorne. "We can drop flamable liquid in the sea, and when the time is right have Cannibal burn the liquid, it will remain on the sea for quite a while, and it will remain as wildfire to use against the ships like a burning wall in the sea, the wildfire would burn every ship trying to sail through, and if one of them happens to store wildfire inside, it will explode."
Rhaenys leaned in, intrigued. "And what of Daemon? Caraxes is the fastest of our dragons."
A grim smile played across Corlys's lips. "His dragon is quite large and still fast, and Daemon might be one of our best dragon riders. I think he can support you and burn the sails of the ships. The fire will spread over the entire ship, and if that ship happens to have Wildfire. It will explode."
"And what of Rhaenyra? She's eager to join the fight, but Syrax is still young, the smallest of our dragons."
The smile faded from Corlys's face. "No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Rhaenyra and Syrax will not be part of this battle."
Rhaenys opened her mouth to argue, but Corlys cut her off, his voice tight with emotion. "One wrong move, one stray burst of Wildfire, and we could lose them both. Just like..." He paused, swallowing hard. "Just like we lost Laenor and Seasmoke."
Rhaenys felt her own grief surge anew, and she reached out to take her husband's hand. "You're right," she said softly. "We can't risk losing her too. But she won't be happy about being left behind."
Corlys squeezed her hand, his purple-green eyes meeting her violet ones. "Better an unhappy heir than a dead one," he said grimly.
The night wore on, candles burning low as Corlys and Rhaenys refined their strategy. They discussed contingencies, debated the placement of each ship and dragon, and prepared for every possible scenario they could imagine.
As the first light of dawn began to creep through the windows, Corlys stepped back from the map table, rubbing his tired eyes. "I think we've done all we can for now," he said. "We should try to get some rest before we meet with the others."
Rhaenys nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over her. But as she turned to leave the war room, a sudden thought struck her. "Corlys," she said, turning back to her husband. "What if... what if this isn't enough? What if we lose more people we love?"
The vulnerability in her voice made Corlys's heart ache. He crossed the room in two long strides, gathering her in his arms. "Then we'll mourn them," he said softly, "and we'll keep fighting. For them, for us, for the future of our house."
Rhaenys clung to him, allowing herself a moment of weakness in the safety of his embrace. "I'm scared," she admitted, her voice muffled against his chest.
"Listen to me," he said. "We are not defined by our grief or our anger. We are defined by our actions, by the choices we make. And we choose to fight for justice, not just blind revenge. It's alright to be scared, that means you are much more prepared than most people. But we can't allow fear to guide us, someone who allows fear to make them doubt their actions has already lost, and the same fear means that Laenor will never be avenged."
"You're right," she said. "We do this for Laenor, for Laena, for all of us."
Corlys smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Exactly," he murmured. "Now, let's get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us."
Tomorrow
The Great Hall of the High Tide was quiet as the royal family and House Velayron gathered for the morning meal. The usual chatter and laughter were replaced by a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.
At one end of the long table sat Laena Velaryon, flanked by her parents, Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys. Their faces were etched with lines of sorrow and fury, their eyes haunted by the loss of their son and heir. Across from them, Prince Aenar Targaryen sat beside his father, Prince Daemon, and his cousin, Princess Rhaenyra. At the head of the table, King Viserys presided with Queen Alicent at his side, his eyes darting nervously between the assembled guests.
The silence stretched on, becoming more oppressive with each passing moment. Finally, Viserys cleared his throat, deciding to address something he had wanted the whole night. "Corlys," he began, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife, "I must ask you directly. Do you truly intend to start a war with Dorne?"
Lord Corlys's piercing purple eyes met the king's, unwavering and filled with a cold determination. "Without hesitation, Your Grace," he replied, his voice low and dangerous. "I will make every last one of them pay for what they did to Laenor."
"And I stand with my father," Laena added immediately, her young face set in a mask of grim resolve. "Dorne will answer for my brother's death."
Viserys sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the crown and the impending conflict. "I feared as much," he murmured. "But surely, we must consider the consequences. To attack Dorne for the actions of pirates—"
"Pirates?" Rhaenys interrupted, her voice rising sharply. "Is that what you think this was, Viserys? Some random act of piracy?"
Corlys leaned forward, his hands clenched into fists on the table. "It was Prince Lykard Martell who orchestrated this attack," he said, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "It was his plan to use Wildfire on his ships. This was no mere act of piracy, Your Grace. This was a deliberate attack on House Velaryon and, by extension, on the Iron Throne itself."
Viserys held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I understand your anger, truly I do," he said, his voice pleading. "But we must think rationally. A war with Dorne would be far more costly, far more destructive than dealing with a group of pirates, no matter how well-connected they might be."
"Rational?" Rhaenys spat, her violet eyes flashing dangerously. "Was it rational for them to burn our son alive? To rob us of our heir, to rob Laena of her brother?"
"You weren't there, Viserys!" Corlys shouted, rising to his feet. "You didn't see the wreckage, didn't smell the burning flesh of your own child!"
Rhaenys joined her husband, her face contorted with grief and fury. "How can you ask us to be rational when our son's murderers walk free? When Dorne laughs at our loss behind closed doors?"
Viserys stood as well, his own voice rising to match theirs. "I am not asking you to forget, or to forgive! But I cannot sanction a full-scale war based on—"
"Based on what?" Corlys interrupted. "On evidence? On the word of captured pirates who confessed to working for Prince Lykard?"
As the argument intensified, the Great Hall echoed with the raised voices of Corlys, Rhaenys, and Viserys. The rest of the family watched in tense silence.
"You speak of caution, Viserys," Corlys spat, his face flushed with rage, "but where was caution when Dorne decided to murder my son? Where was restraint when they set that wildfire trap?"
Viserys slammed his hand on the table, causing the plates to rattle. "And what would you have me do? March our entire army into Dorne based on the word of captured pirates? Start a war that could cost thousands of lives?"
"Better thousands of Dornish lives than one more of ours!" Rhaenys shouted, her eyes blazing with a mix of grief and fury.
The King shook his head vehemently. "Listen to yourselves! You're talking about unleashing a slaughter based on circumstantial evidence!"
Corlys leaned across the table, his voice low and dangerous. "Circumstantial? We found Dornish weapons among the wreckage. We have testimonies linking Prince Lykard to the attack. How much more evidence do you need?"
"Evidence that will stand up to scrutiny from the other lords!" Viserys retorted. "If we go to war, we need the support of the entire realm. We can't act on vengeance alone!"
Rhaenys laughed bitterly. "Vengeance? Is that what you call justice for our murdered son?"
"Justice requires proof beyond doubt," Viserys insisted, his voice strained. "We can't risk—"
"Risk?" Corlys interrupted again, his voice rising. "The only risk here is appearing weak in the face of a direct attack on our family! Every moment we delay, Dorne grows bolder!"
Viserys ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "And if we attack without proper cause, we risk alienating our allies, depleting our resources, and potentially starting a war we cannot win!"
"Cannot win?" Rhaenys scoffed. "We have dragons, Viserys. Dorne has sand and spears. The war would be over before it truly began!"
"You underestimate the Dornish," Viserys warned. "They've resisted Targaryen rule before. A hasty attack could unite them against us, turning a simple retaliation into a prolonged conflict."
Corlys's face darkened. "So you would have us do nothing? Allow our enemies to murder our children without consequence?"
"That's not what I'm saying!" Viserys shouted, his patience finally snapping. "I'm saying we need to be smart about this! We need to gather more intelligence, build a stronger case, and ensure we have the support of the other great houses before we commit to war!"
"And how long will that take?" Rhaenys demanded. "How many more must die while you 'gather intelligence'? Laenor's body is barely cold, and you speak of patience and caution!"
As the tension in the room continued to escalate, Queen Alicent stood up abruptly. "My lords, my ladies," she said, her voice cutting through the heated arguments, "perhaps we are being too hasty in our deliberations."
All eyes turned to the queen, some curious, others annoyed at the interruption. Alicent took a deep breath before continuing, "I believe we should wait for my father, Lord Otto Hightower, to arrive before making any firm decisions. As Hand of the King, his counsel would be invaluable in such a delicate matter."
A heavy silence fell over the room for a moment, broken only by the sound of Lady Rhaenys's derisive snort. The Velaryon matriarch fixed Alicent with a withering glare, her violet eyes burning with barely contained fury.
"My dear Queen," Rhaenys began, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "we are discussing the murder of my son, not arranging flowers for a feast. This is a matter of blood and fire, not quills and parchment. Your father's 'invaluable counsel' would be about as useful as a Dornish snow shovel. So do all of us a favor and shut up."
Alicent's face flushed red with embarrassment and anger, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, while Daemon seemed like he was enjoying what was said to Alicent.
Before Alicent could retort. "That is enough, Lady Rhaenys!" he boomed, his voice echoing in the suddenly silent hall. "You will not speak to my wife in such a manner."
The argument continued to escalate, with Corlys and Rhaenys listing off the evidence of Dorne's involvement, while Viserys desperately tried to advocate for a more measured response. The other diners watched in stunned silence, the food on their plates long forgotten.
Daemon leaned back in his chair, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched his brother struggle to maintain control.
Laena sat rigid in her seat, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she listened to her parents fight for justice for her brother.
"We cannot rush into war without proof!" Viserys insisted, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.
"Proof?" Lady Rhaenys spat. "My son's charred body is all the proof we need!"
Just as it seemed the situation might spiral out of control, a commanding voice cut through the chaos.
"ENOUGH!"
Prince Aenar Targaryen's voice rang out, silencing the room. All eyes turned to the young dragon rider, his violet eyes blazing with an intensity that belied his years. Aenar stood, his dark hair appearing like a dark crown on his head, making him appear like a demon from the Seven Hells.
"Uncle," he began, his voice low and controlled as he addressed King Viserys, "I ask you this: Would you still counsel restraint if it was Rhaenyra who had been attacked?"
Viserys's face paled, his eyes widening at the implication. Princess Rhaenyra, seated nearby, straightened in her chair, her gaze fixed on her cousin.
Aenar pressed on, his voice gaining strength. "It could have easily been Rhaenyra on that ship, burning to death in Wildfire. It could have been any of us. So I ask you again, Uncle: What would you do if it was Rhaenyra in that coffin instead of Laenor?"
The king opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. The silence in the hall was deafening, broken only by the soft sound of Lady Rhaenys's muffled sobs.
Seeing his uncle's hesitation, Aenar turned to address the entire gathering. "Laenor Velaryon was more than just a cousin or a potential heir. He was a friend, a brother-in-arms, a dragon rider. He was one of us."
Aenar's eyes misted over as he continued, "Laenor will never grow old. He will never know the joy of holding his own child in his arms. He will never see another sunrise over the Narrow Sea or feel the wind in his hair as he soars on Seasmoke's back."
The young prince's words hung heavy in the air, each one a painful reminder of what had been lost.
"But more than that," Aenar continued, his voice growing stronger, "Laenor's death is an attack on all of us. It's a challenge to the very foundations of our rule. If we let this go unanswered, what message does that send to the rest of the realm? To our enemies?"
He turned back to Viserys, his eyes pleading. "Uncle, I understand your desire for peace. But there can be no true peace without justice. And sometimes, justice is harsh."
"The Dornish think they can strike at us with impunity, hiding behind their mountains and their deserts. They believe we are weak, divided, unwilling to act. It's time we proved them wrong."
His voice rose, filled with determination and righteous anger. "We are the blood of Old Valyria. We are dragon riders, conquerors, rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. We do not cower in the face of threats. We do not ignore attacks on our family."
"Justice is not about blind retribution or senseless violence. It's about upholding the laws that bind our realm together. It's about ensuring that no one, no matter how powerful or how distant, can act against us without consequence."
He turned to Lord Corlys and Lady Rhaenys, his voice softening slightly. "We cannot bring Laenor back. But we can ensure that his death was not in vain. We can make certain that his name is remembered, not just as a victim, but as the catalyst that brought justice to those who would threaten our family."
"My lords, ladies and my King, let us remember the oaths we have sworn. Let us remember the responsibilities we bear. Uncle," he said, turning back to Viserys, "one of your many titles is 'Protector of the Realm.' It's not just a ceremonial title; it's a sacred duty."
The young prince's eyes blazed as he continued, "To protect the realm is not just to defend it from external threats, but to ensure justice and security for all within it. When we allow an attack like this to go unanswered, we fail in that duty. We leave our people vulnerable, our allies uncertain, and our enemies emboldened."
"Justice is the foundation upon which our entire system of governance is built. It's what separates us from tyrants and warlords. It's what gives our rule legitimacy in the eyes of the people we govern."
"Uncle, I implore you to consider the legacy of those who came before us. Think of your grandfather, the great King Jaehaerys. He was known as a peaceful king, a wise ruler who brought prosperity to the realm. But even he understood that sometimes, justice must be harsh."
Aenar's eyes locked with Viserys's, his voice low and intense. "King Jaehaerys fought to keep the peace, yes, but he did not shy away from conflict when it was necessary. He understood that true peace can only be achieved through strength and the willingness to act when our people are threatened. He fought in the fourth Dornish War. He didn't try to find reasons to not fight. No. He knew his duty as King, and was there to fight alongside his men and sons."
The young prince's voice rose, filled with passion and conviction. "Would you disappoint the memory of your grandfather, Uncle? Would you have King Jaehaerys look down from wherever the gods reside and see his heir cowering in the face of such a blatant attack on our family?"
Aenar's gaze swept the room, taking in every face. "And what of your father, grandfather Baelon? Would you have him see his son hesitate when justice cries out to be served?"
The prince's voice softened, becoming almost pleading. "Uncle, I ask you to honor the legacy of those who came before us. To uphold the principles that have guided our family for generations. To show the realm – and the world – that the justice of the Iron Throne is swift, fair, and unwavering."
Aenar's final words rang out in the silent hall. "Let us not disappoint our ancestors. Let us not fail in our duty to our people. Let us show that we are worthy of the trust and loyalty they place in us. Let us honor Laenor's memory by ensuring that such a tragedy never happens again."
As Aenar's speech came to an end, a heavy silence fell over the Great Hall. The young prince's words had struck a chord with everyone present, from the grief-stricken Velaryons to the cautious courtiers.
King Viserys, visibly shaken, slowly rose from his seat. He looked at Aenar with a mixture of pride, resignation, and newfound resolve. "You speak wisely, nephew," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of his decision. "You're right. We cannot let this attack go unanswered. To do so would be to abdicate our responsibility as rulers and to dishonor the memory of those who came before us."
"The Iron Throne will not stay put. I will not be remembered as the King who ran away to find a place to hide. Justice will be brought for Laenor Velayron."
Aenar raised a cup, holding it up in the air, soon followed by everyone else in the Hall. "For Laenor Velayron, a good friend."
"For Laenor Velayron, the best son a father could ask for."
"For Laenor Velayron, the bravest brother a sister can have."
"FOR LAENOR VELAYRON."
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