Dragonstone ― Beach …
"I still can't believe that it's come to this. That we'd have to go to him instead of summoning him to the capital," Tyland bemoaned.
Mellos sighed. "Relations between His Grace and his heir have been increasingly strained since the tragic, unfortunate passing of Her Grace Queen Aemma Arryn. But given the more recent events, the falsified reports coming in from the Starry Sept… things have steadily declined since then. If we can't salvage what we can, then I fear what's to come," he said.
"The only thing we can do right now is to ensure the talks go smoothly," Lyonel suggested.
"I'm sure Dragonstone has already received a raven by now."
Viserys and Otto had only been on the beach for a while now. The king couldn't bear to bring himself to look Beatrice in the eyes after what had happened. How could he have been so blind? With the stunning revelation from Farrier's agents that Aeonar was not involved in the annulment between Lady Rhea Royce and Daemon, the political controversy had gripped the crown and made them appear in an unfavorable light. What could he even say to his son after everything he said? No, he had to make things right. But what will Aeonar say? Or even think of him? He had to at least hear him out if given the chance.
Beatrice, meanwhile, stood off to the side. Her exterior displayed the regal wisdom of a queen with control of her surroundings and a sense of calm, but deep down she was arrogant and self-centered to a fault. After her scheme to undermine and discredit her stepson to give her son Aegon a clearer path to the Iron Throne backfired, the queen consort was internally fuming. How dare you make a fool out of me. I am the queen! No matter. My son has the Conqueror's name regardless. I will simply have to try harder this time.
All the while, the gates to Dragonstone opened. Before any could proceed forward, Viserys saw Alicent was the first to greet them, followed by Jaehaerys. However, much to his great chagrin, he noticed Rhaenyra was behind them as well. The king put significant effort to arrange suitors for his daughter for quite some time, but now that he can confirm Rhaenyra's presence on Dragonstone indicated she had once again defied him by ending the tour two months earlier. Syrax rested along the sandbank, raising her head upon the arrival of the group.
"Gampa! Gampa!" Jaehaerys excitedly scurried over. Once he reached the king, the young princeling reached out to Viserys to ask his grandfather to pick him up.
"Oh my!" Viserys smiled warmly and scooped his grandson into his arms, amazed at how quickly the boy was growing. "There's my grandson. My, look how big you have grown, Jaehaerys! Three years old and already walking and talking. Pretty soon you'll become a great king and plenty of girls from all corners of the realm will be swooning all over you― Oh!" Viserys was interrupted by Jaehaerys snuggling him, rubbing his cheek along his grandfather's. "Well! Hahaha! You are quite the affectionate one, aren't you?"
Alicent smiled warmly. "He missed his grandfather," she said.
"And we've missed him." Viserys turned to his Hand. "Didn't we, Otto?"
Otto retained a stoic composure. "He does seem to be growing since we last saw him. Has he been fed right? And you've made the necessary arrangements to prepare him?" he asked.
"Yes, father. We're making sure Jaehaerys receives everything he needs to stay healthy."
Viserys then put his grandson down, watching as the toddler run off to play in the sand. The king then noticed Alicent's swollen belly. "Alicent, are you… you're pregnant again?" he noticed.
The other councilors noticed as well.
Alicent nodded. "Yes, Your Grace," she confirmed. "Maester Alwyn informed me the baby is due two months before the Summer Festival this year."
Ah yes! The hour of the owl! One of our important celebrations! "Oh! So that means we will be seeing you in the capital to celebrate?"
"If I have anything to say about it, yes, Your Grace."
"Alicent, please call me 'father.' You're Otto's daughter, but as you married my son, you're one of us."
"As you wish, Your Gr― ah, I mean, father. Did you get the new tapestries we sent you? The ones from Norvos and Qohor?"
Viserys nodded. By 'we', I suppose you mean 'yourself.' Aeonar has not shown any interest in such things. Tapestries are not his forte. But I do appreciate the gesture. "Oh, oh. Yes, Alicent we did, that was very thoughtful. We just set them up in the gallery before coming here."
"Well, I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra chimed.
"Oh, well, then you shouldn't deprive yourself when you get home."
Yes, he is mad. "Never mind. I shall enjoy them alone." Rhaenyra said before excusing herself to tend to Syrax, as the yellow-green-eyed dragon chirped at her rider's arrival.
Alicent felt the awkwardness. "Ahem!" she cleared her throat, gathering her guests' attention. "Might I offer you something to eat or drink, my lords?" she offered. Her servants then arrived to provide each of them with trays of bread and salt. "On behalf of my husband, the Prince of Dragonstone, we welcome you beneath our roof, and at our table. I extend to you our hospitality and our protection in the light of the Seven." It's not much, but it's what we could salvage from our imported reserves. Still, I wish the island had more to offer. She then gave a small chuckle. "I would offer you something more pleasant, but I'm told that most of our food is… limited to fish."
Otto dipped his portion of bread in salt before nibbling at it. He understood that in her condition Alicent was in no state to be consuming anything that might harm her unborn child. Nevertheless, the Hand was cunning enough to realize it was not merely a symbolic gesture on his daughter's part, but also a strategic one. By offering them the ancient and sacred guest right, once invoked neither the guest can harm his host nor the host harm his guest for the length of the guest's stay.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. We've lived on this island before so we're quite familiar with Dragonstone's geography. No need to trouble yourself to accommodate us," Viserys dismissed as he chewed his bread. He then turned his head left, then right, as if he were looking for something… or someone. "By the way, Alicent, is Aeonar somewhere nearby? I'd like to see him."
"He said he was going on a hunt with Daemon, but he didn't say where or how long it would take," Alicent answered.
"So, Daemon is here as well?" Otto raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Y-Yes, father. He came from King's Landing not too long ago."
Beatrice frowned. Shit. That little rat must have been the one who spied on us. I will need to inform my benefactor of the situation as soon as possible.
"*Reeeeeee!*"
"*Rooooorr!*"
"Dragons returning!" a sentry called out.
Syrax shrieked as Vaelor and Caraxes flew overhead and circled to begin their descent. Once both male dragons made landfall, Beatrice could see the size comparison between Vaelor, Caraxes, and Syrax. Being the smallest, Syrax grew to 100 feet in length; Caraxes measured 165 feet; and Vaelor at 185, making him the largest of the trio. All three had progressively grown, but it was the Blood Wyrm and Swiftrunner whose size increased due to being granted more freedom and plenty of space to move. The queen, although a political player in her own right, still had to tread cautiously when confronted by three dragons. Still, Beatrice need not be concerned yet. Her own son's egg hatched moments ago – a dragonling with golden scales that glistened in the sunlight and pale pink wing membranes.
Soon, the world will bow before Sunfyre's golden beauty. More so than that black beast's savage nature or the red one's deformity.
Aeonar and Daemon dismounted and made their approach. Both princes noticed the arrival of uninvited, unexpected guests – especially Otto and Beatrice.
"Papa!" Jaehaerys recognized him. The little prince giggled as his father brushed his head before resuming his play in the sand.
"Welcome home, husband," Alicent greeted. "And to you, Prince Daemon."
"How was the hunt?" Rhaenyra inquired.
Daemon ignored Alicent but focused on his niece. "It was interesting, princess," he said. "We found Vhagar."
There was a profound silence on the beach as all looked at the duo with a sense of disbelief at what the Rogue Prince had just announced. They found Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons, the oldest and largest living dragon in Westeros.
Even Rhaenyra was surprised. "Y… You did?" she stammered slightly. "When did…?"
"Moments ago. We just came back from Driftmark," Daemon answered. He turned to Otto, looking confident and smug. "Must wound your pride, Otto. To learn that Vhagar now lies with the Sea Snake. I hadn't seen her since our father died, but she's still as large in person as I remember her to be."
Otto bit his tongue. Damn you, Daemon. Yet still… bringing Vhagar to our side, this does put us at a significant advantage. It's worth a thousand times any prize.
Beatrice shifted slightly. Do they have the mighty Vhagar? Curses! That complicates things.
Aeonar looked at Beatrice, then his former colleagues, then to Otto, before finally turning his attention solely to his father. Why was he here, and why did Viserys bring her of all people? He didn't invite these people to his stronghold, but only when his pale lilac eyes noticed his household servants holding trays of bread and salt did he realize that they were given guest rights so he couldn't turn them away even if he wanted to. Clever, Alicent. A tactful maneuver. Yes. Very clever indeed. For a while, he said nothing but remained locked onto his father.
Viserys looked at his heir. Since their argument, the king felt a pang of guilt. However, the look in Aeonar's eyes, facial expression, and posture were different this time. There was no anger, rage, hatred, nor resentment – but rather indifference. Which, for Viserys, felt much worse. There is no more effective strategy to hurt and show contempt for somebody than by simply ignoring a person. Particularly if that person hates the other: if they are simply indifferent, the other person will get even more worked up. No, no this wasn't supposed to happen. Aeonar, my son… Did I hurt you this much? Oh, how I wish I could take it all back. I am sorry for not believing you. Please… talk to me, yell at me, hit me, something. They say indifference is more dangerous than anger and hatred because when one is angry there is still the acknowledgment of the person's existence but with indifference one, neither recognizes nor cares if they exist or not, as they don't hold any value to them.
"You have me at a disadvantage, my lords," Aeonar addressed them.
Lyonel noticed the other lords sworn to Dragonstone. "How come we don't see Lord Corlys amongst your bannermen?" he inquired.
Daemon intervened. "That's because you won't find him. As I said, I came back from Driftmark. He's still there with all his ships and men," he answered on his nephew's behalf. "As of now, House Velaryon controls the Stepstones' shipping lanes. The tides, the crabs, and 2,000 dead Triarchy corsairs staked to the sand serve as a warning to those who might follow."
He must have corrupted the prince somehow. Otto remained at the king's side. "We are here at His Grace's request to discuss important matters. So, unless you plan to keep us confined here with this mummer's farce―"
"There will be no delay," Aeonar interrupted stoically. "You've been given guest rights within my walls, and so you shall be placed under my protection until your departure. Now… I imagine we have plenty to talk about." He turned around to reenter his castle. "Come with me. We'll all have this discussion at the Painted Table."
Dragonstone ― Chamber of the Painted Table…
With everyone standing across the Painted Table, Aeonar reminisced about the discussion taking place in front of him. Viserys, Otto, Lyonel, Mellos, Lyman, Tyland… It reminded him of his tenure on the small council when he was Master of Whisperers. Only it was amusing to watch and listen to them squabbling amongst themselves like a chicken running around with its head cut off. Viserys stood at the head of the Painted Table near a carved depiction of the Wall, with Otto standing to his right while Aeonar stood to the opposing side.
"The truth of the matter is that while it is understanding Lord Corlys would continue to feel slighted, seizing the Stepstones and holding them as leverage is offensive to the crown," Lyonel argued.
"And who are we to say what would have occurred if the Triarchy continued to maintain control of those islands?" Tyland countered. "It's not just the immediate aftereffect in the short term, but rather it is the larger picture is that should be looked at."
"Should we continue to worry about a man whose pride has been wounded?" Lyman questioned.
Aeonar tapped the Painted Table. "If you know what's good for you, Lord Lyman, then yes," he replied. "House Velaryon, much like our family, came to this country with us before the Doom destroyed Old Valyria. Lord Corlys may have his pride, but he's shrewder than you give him credit."
"Then why are we having this discussion when the matter was settled years ago?" Viserys inquired.
"Because an insult of that magnitude might be forgiven in time, but it cannot be forgotten."
Otto chose to speak. "Which explains why Lord Corlys chose to negotiate with the Sealord of Braavos to wed his daughter Laena to the Sealord's son―"
"Lysadhor Phassatis. Yes, I know," Aeonar interrupted. "Unfortunately, such a betrothal will now never take place."
"And why is that, dare I ask?"
"Because Daemon killed him."
Viserys and the others looked at Aeonar in stunned disbelief. "He did what?" he inquired.
"If this is true, then it will cause a diplomatic scandal with the Free Cities. I insist that Prince Daemon be held answerable for such an outrage," Beatrice advocated.
"Which will only prove my point that the crown doesn't give a damn about its long-standing allies," Aeonar corrected. Holding up documents in one hand, he laid them down on the Painted Table. "Take a look for yourself. Everything you needed to know about the Sealord's son."
Otto took the files; his eyes scanned each page. The more he read, the furrow his brows were. "You're certain the information provided is indeed valid?" he interrogated.
"Information is my specialty. It is good. Someone did not do a thorough background check. What's more, the Sealord is aware of his son's nature. It's not just appalling, it's disrespectful."
"Dear me," Lyman groaned.
"And who is left to appease Braavos after the Sealord's son's murder at the hands of Daemon?" Beatrice inquired again.
Aeonar scoffed. "Lysadhor invited it by challenging my uncle to a duel. My spies indicate he sequestered himself on Driftmark because the Sealord himself knew his son squandered his money and power on wanton debauchery. Even that is frowned upon morally, economically, and politically in Braavos, especially if the Iron Bank gets wind of it. Imagine the scandal if that was known. Nyessio would have been stripped of his title a long time ago and be replaced with someone more… qualified," he retorted.
"So your counsel is to let him walk away?"
"I wouldn't expect you to understand our Valyrian customs, and I'm certainly not looking for your approval." Aeonar sipped wine from his chalice. But he held his cup to his lips, his eyes scanning the Painted Table. Normally he would move on from the subject, but his time on the small council taught him that if anything, there was an ulterior motive. He learned to be Master of Whisperers, and he suspected something was up. "And yet," he slowly put his chalice down, "there's more, isn't there?" he interrogated.
"What do you mean?" Tyland asked.
Viserys adjusted his collar. "We merely came to seek your counsel on Lord Corlys's son and heir, Ser Laenor Velaryon," he said.
"You've known my position on the matter since the day you chose not to heed our advice. My stance remains the same." Aeonar turned to stare out the window while folding his arms behind his back. "No, you're here because you want something else."
Otto shook his head. Clever boy. He was bound to find out eventually. "We've come to formally invite you to rejoin the small council as Master of Whisperers and Lord Confessor. Your privileges will be reinstated, and more should you be willing to accept," he offered.
Viserys turned to his Hand. "Otto…" he said. Take the deal, Aeonar. Just come back home.
"Hmm. A generous offer. However…" Aeonar glanced over his shoulder. "I cannot help but recall a similar proposal was made on this very spot four years ago when you showed up at my door. And the repercussions that followed."
"Everyone makes mistakes. We are all only human. To learn from mistakes to not repeat them is the preferable solution if we are to move forward for the sake of the realm."
"Then you'll forgive me when I say I must decline."
Beatrice shook her head. "Prince Aeonar," she raised her voice. "Your father is here practically on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, and this is how you treat your king?"
"Beatrice, no!" Viserys shouted.
"Is this the manner becoming of a prince?"
Aeonar whipped around. "It's because I am Prince of Dragonstone," he replied coolly. "And I've done everything I can to ensure the Old King's legacy is preserved." You were not capable enough to undermine me on your own, Beatrice Peake, so you must have had someone else do your dirty work for you. Either way, I'll find out who your collaborator is and have them burned alive. "Your work was sloppy, brazen even, a little too obvious in fact." He then turned to Viserys. "I've done my part. Now only the king himself needs to do what needs to be done."
Dragonstone ― Main hall…
Rhaenyra and Daemon stood outside in the main hall. Alicent had already taken a moment to lie down on the claim of morning sickness while Jaehaerys was taken to his room by his mother's maids. Both Targaryens shook their heads in annoyance.
"They've been in there for hours now," Rhaenyra groaned.
"If only they had the decency to enjoy the comforts of home," Daemon rolled his eyes.
"Funny. I had not thought of you as particularly comfortable in any home. You didn't have any qualms about taunting my father, uncle."
"Ehh, we've been giving each other a hard time since we were your age. Comes with being the second-born. Some habits are often at times difficult to get rid of."
"I suppose you seemed changed by your adventures. You and Aeonar. More mature, perhaps."
Daemon raised an eyebrow. "You've matured yourself these last four years, princess," he remarked. "Trust me. You'll get used to the attention."
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "The attention I can endure. It is the rest I could do without," she scoffed. "My father seems content to sell me off to whichever lord has the biggest castle while my brother is on my case about performing my duties."
"There are worse things than to be sold for like I was to my old bronze bitch. Now that I'm free of her, I can at least have some downtime… until I get sold off again." The Rogue Prince sipped his wine. "I heard what happened at Storm's End. The things that Baratheon lad said. Pity I was not there. He wouldn't have said anything more for much longer. Still, it must have been quite the scene watching him being put in his place like that."
"Hehee, yeah I suppose there was some compensation in that. The drunk was too incoherent to even put up a fight let alone stand on his own two feet without tipping over. It wasn't even that much of a trial by combat in the first place."
Daemon watched his niece closely. "That's what makes the three of you more alike," he added.
"Like whom?" Rhaenyra asked.
"You, your father, and brother. Once your father made a choice, he was unwavering and firmly stood by his decision. You're more strong-willed and independent than Viserys is, princess. Both you and your brother. It's what makes you two stand out from the rest." Daemon leaned against the pillar. "Besides, you've always been the more adventuring, daring type."
"It's who I am, uncle. I'm not giving that up for anyone simply because they asked me to."
"Nor should you. It is like losing a part of yourself that you can never get back. And you'll need that in the months and years to come, princess. A certain fly told me that certain groups within King's Landing view the new queen as a power-hungry usurper for that little stunt she tried to pull on Aeonar. It's possible Beatrice might try something to tear us apart from the inside."
"Well, that won't happen. Count on it." Rhaenyra scoffed. "I'm going for a ride with Syrax."
"Try not to wander off too far," Daemon waved.
Dragonstone ― Beach…
Rhaenyra ventured outside the gates of Dragonstone and wandered the beach in search of Syrax. She has been needing to blow off some steam for a while since her father and Beatrice stepped foot on the island. With her uncle's warning, the princess knew her stepmother was up to no good again. Listening to the waves crashing against the shore, Rhaenyra finds her dragon sleeping next to Vaelor and Caraxes. The larger dragons were sleeping as well, their heads buried in the sand next to a scattered litter of whale bones.
Syrax steadily woke up at the sound of her rider's footsteps. "*Wuuuurrrr...*" she shook her head, chirping quietly.
"Ñāqes ēdrunon bartos. (Morning, sleepy head.)" Rhaenyra whispered, petting her dragon's neck. "Úbrie sōvegon? (Ready to fly?)"
"*Urrrrrrr…*" Syrax gave a draconic yawn and shook her head before lowering herself to allow Rhaenyra to climb. Once the princess was strapped in, Syrax stood up and moved further away from a sleeping Vaelor and Caraxes.
"Sōvēs, Syraks! (Fly, Syrax!)" Rhaenyra commanded.
"*Reeeeeh!*" Syrax shrilled, stretching her wings before taking to the skies.
While the young she-dragon flew off into the distance, back on the sandy shores, Vaelor snorted and stirred before gradually waking up. Opening his eyes, the Swiftrunner growled and shook his head to wake himself up. Before long, he raised his head to see Syrax flying further away from where he was.
"*Grrrrr!*"
Vaelor suspected her rider's kin was leading Syrax in a different direction along Dragonstone. Sniffing the air, the Swiftrunner picked up the faintest scent of Syrax's projected path.
She was going…
…east!