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Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
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Fandoms:
House of the Dragon (TV)Warhammer Fantasy
Characters:
Ikit ClawRhaenyra TargaryenJacaerys VelaryonLucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Daemon TargaryenCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonHelaena TargaryenAddam VelaryonBackground & Cameo CharactersSilverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's DragonOriginal CharactersJoffrey Velaryon
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Crack Treated SeriouslyCanon-Typical ViolenceThe Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen EraAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanonical Character DeathCharacter Turned Into a HumanIkit got isekai'd as Jace's twinSkaven Species (Warhammer Fantasy)Death to all GreensHuman ExperimentationScience ExperimentsIkit is his own warningSilverwing still has shit taste in male ridersPOV MultipleBackground RelationshipsBackground Character Deathshow canon onlyDragon RidersAnimal AbuseIkit is an abusive dragonriderTho he's fairly mellow compared to his SkavenselfGood Parent Rhaenyra TargaryenNo beta we die like LucerysDysfunctional FamilyCannibalismBlood and TortureCanon-Typical BehaviorBAMF Helaena Targaryen
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English
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Published:2026-02-26Completed:2026-04-22Words:181,492Chapters:55/55Comments:1,270Kudos:749Bookmarks:160Hits:33,669
The Rat Prince of Westeros
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 26: Corlys
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Stepstones were the same twisted mess of barren and storm-swept scattered islands that Corlys remembered. Many sunken and ashore shipwrecks he remembered as well, some even still bearing the tattered remains of Velaryon sails.
And it again was a thankless task, forcing out the Triarchy and the numerous pirate dens. This time the Sea Snake was forced to do so without the aid of a dragon.
While the lack of great fires and lung-choking smoke was a blessing, it meant they had to fight twice as hard to repel the slavers without a great scaled beast to swoop down upon their enemies. And all the while the pirates and slavers were aided by the Prince of Dorne, when their own relief was sporadic. Sometimes when he lay in his tent trying to find sleep he wished the Conqueror had indeed burnt down Sunspear.
Yet still he was gaining ground, slowly yet surely. He was eager for it to be over, as it had been some time for returning to his own keep and he was not the young man he used to be. He was getting too old for such foolishness. He missed his bed, hot fresh meals, he missed his wife, his grandchildren. The Velaryon men with him felt much the same but as they gained more and more territory there was hope it would be done sooner rather than later.
The caves were the same problem as their previous altercation in the Stepstones, having to creep into them one by one and avoiding traps and pirates and slaves. Then they had to keep watch over the caves so they don't become infested when they moved on. It was exhausting yet the end was in sight and that was when Corlys near met his end.
The ship was set to look abandoned, listing heavily in the surf with sails in tattered with the early morning fog drifting across the sea. Corlys commanded his ship to lash up against it, to board the vessel to search for any information they could use.
He had twenty men with him on boarding yet when the ambush launched itself in strength he lost them all. The enemies burst up from underneath the fallen sails, knocking open the haphazard crates, swarming from the captains cabin. There was a lurch as the makeshift gangway from his ship the enemies was severed even as several flaming arrows were sent to the deck as shouts ran through the air.
Corlys was swiftly covered in blood and gore as crossbow bolts and arrows and blades pierced his fellow Velaryons around him as battle burst forth. His silver battle axe cleaved through the head of the pirate before him and he swung again with another losing his arm. A arrow pinged off his armour, and he kicked the nearest opponent away from him. His own ship was being forced away, with more flaming arrows being shot towards it and the sails as they crew hastily hurled buckets of water onto them.
Seeing the last of his men being cut down Corlys turned, deciding to simply try and leap from one deck to the other. A hand grabbed at the back of his armour, yanking him around and he lashed out with his axe. The blade embedded itself deep into the skull and before he could yank it free he was forced to raise both arms to shield his face as another pirate darted forth with a hatchet. Corlys yanked the weapon from the man's hands and slashed out his eyes with it.
Then his neck was cut by a dagger, making him stumble while clapping a hand instinctively to the torn flesh. Distantly he could hear his crew shouting, even as an arrow went into the throat of the corsair who stabbed him. A hard kick from another and he fell overboard, the ocean cold and ready to embrace him.
Corlys flailed, having to release his neck to try and swim to the surface. In full armour it beyond difficult, impossible as he tried to reach for the dark hull of his ship which had been forced several yards from the pirates. He was underwater, blood dark and drifting.
Then above him everything lit up, the ocean becoming as bright as day as the pirate ship exploded into flames.
He barely had time to think when someone jumped into the water above him, another and another. By the time three of the crew grabbed him, ropes tied about their waists, he was already falling into unconsciousness form his injury. When he was dragged on deck, numerous hands pressing his wound shut as people yelled, he saw a huge winged shadow sweep overhead along with the familiar stench of burning meat before he fell into unconsciousness.
Corlys was lost in a blur of the aftermath. He could recall parts of it, a needle and thread twisting through his flesh, choking on foul tonics the ship maester forced upon him, hearing mumbling and voices and hearing the noise of the canvas tent being tugged in the wind as fever took him. The pain and shivering as blood fever lashed his body.
Sometimes he could hear one of his men speaking to him, words of a raven and others yet it was lost beneath the illness as his body struggled from the healing injury and blood loss.
Then there was shouting, someone shoving the maester away from him along with the sound of a slap. Corlys couldn't focus on what was above him, beyond seeing a searing green.
Wildfire, a part of him whispered.
Then there was something being shoved into his mouth, foul tasting and vile. He grumbled, trying to bat it away only for an armour-clad hand to force his down.
"Drink-drink, stupid one!" a voice cut through his delirium, vicious and harsh and familiar.
He obeyed and a single mouthful was enough to drag him down into unconsciousness.
There were whispers and mutters and at some point squeaking and writhing as Corlys felt like he was lying upon a bed made of squirmy furry rats. Something poked him, a tap-tap-tapping like a talon against steel.
Then Corlys woke up, feeling better than he could remember.
He blinked, staring up at the tent ceiling. He could hear the sound of the ocean, as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, and voices beyond. After a moment Corlys sat up, carefully touching his throat but feeling no bandage or thread.
Then the tent flap opened and the ship maester appeared, the man carrying a tray of hard bread, fruit and a water-filled cup.
"Lord Corlys! You woke as swiftly as the prince said you would," the maester greeted him. He set down the tray on a table and helped Corlys sit up.
He had been stripped of his sodden armour, now wearing a tunic and trousers, and Corlys could see his armour and axe set up in the corner of the tent. He could only remember flashes after the knife wound and he let the maester fuss and poke at him.
"I feel fine," Corlys answered truthfully. "Better than I have felt in years. I don't...I felt the dagger bite deep. How long have I been unconscious?"
"Not even most of the day," the maester replied. "As the prince attacked the rest of the pirates I saw to you and sealed the wound even as a fever swiftly sank into your body. Yet when the prince landed he made you drink a tonic and...I have never seen a wound heal so swift nor as cleanly. It has only been ten minutes since you have drunk it."
"Prince? Daemon is here?"
"No, my lord. Prince Ikit arrived."
The maester than quickly explained everything Corlys had missed; He learn that they had secure the Stepstones in the aftermath as Prince Ikit had attacked the remaining pirate ships, settling them ablaze, then caused rock slides to seal the caves via melting the rock with Silverwing. Whoever was sealed inside would suffer a slow death of starvation.
When Prince Ikit returned he demanded to see Corlys and gave him that tonic, and even now his grandson was with the Velaryons out beyond. They had originally intended to sail back to Driftmark while he was in delirium, sending a raven beforehand to speak of the Sea Snake's injury so more maesters would be waiting, but the fast pace of his healing put a stop to that. The maester showed him in the small mirror, letting Corlys see the skin along his throat. It was a scar, the same length as his hand, but looking decades old instead of something that had been inflicted that very morn.
"Eat first," the maester scolded when he attempted to rise to see his grandson.
Corlys grudgingly did so, eating the bread and fruit before chasing it down with the lukewarm water. He let the maester poke at the wound some more, going through a list of conditions and aliments until he finally accepted Corlys was in perfect health. The man seemed as befuddled as himself.
"Strange things can be found in Esoss, my lord," the maester said. "It would seem Prince Ikit found more than a few of them."
"Enough of this talk. Lead me to my grandson."
He only bothered to put on boots and a cloak of Velaryon colours, otherwise nothing bothering to change. The very first thing he noticed when he emerged outside was Silverwing's colossal form lounging upon the hill, with his men milling about their camp of tents.
She was bigger, far bigger than Corlys remembered. He would wager she would now be even larger than Vermithor's own wingspan, closer to that of Vhagar. She had a green tint to the edge of her grey scales, and down her tail were thick spikes that looked like green ore that grew even longer than bastard swords. Her horns had cracks within them, upon which oozed an emerald glow. Even her eyes were that colour.
But it wasn't just her sheer size and strange new additions that transfixed Corlys. Upon her shoulders was a saddle as typical for a bonded dragon, with extra saddle bags and numerous holsters for weapons he couldn't identity. There was something upon the front of the saddle, before the pommel, that almost looked like a folded down ballista but instead of a pronged front there was a great green stone set in. There was a ladder coiled up against Silverwing's shoulder but unlike Vhagar's, which resembled a loose ships rigging, this one was done in gleaming rings of steel along a length of steel as a ladder.
And behind the saddlebags, lashed down across Silverwing's hips, was a bell tower. Great spikes of steel embedded in her scales to secure it in place, a base of ribs of metal to keep the tower balanced. The overall frame was in a curve, with the upper portions having strange glowing green runes carved into the steel. An upside down triangle was upon its zenith. The bell itself was as large as Corlys and he could see the clapper within had more of the glowing green stone upon it. At the moment the bell wasn't tolling, but a part of him wondered how Silverwing could bear the weight of everything even with her size.
Then he finally noticed the details upon the steel. Black as smoke and as he stared there was the wisp of delicate patterns seen within the metal, whorls and glyphs and arcane symbols folded into the steel. Only one metal could be beaten so thin and still have strength enough to fight with, just as only one metal could be applied so liberally yet still the dragon had the strength to fly with an entire bell tower hammered into her back.
Valyrian steel.
Silverwing was covered in a dozen of kingdoms worth of wealth in the metal. Corlys knew his grandson had found a way to forge Valyrian steel, yet he had assumed it was in warping already existing weapons. Now it seems the boy had managed to discover the origin creation of it and had applied that with gutso.
The great she-dragon grumbled, twisting her long neck around to stare at him. Her mouth lolled open, saliva green and stinking. She had three rows of teeth upon the bottom, jagged and pointed. Some looked as if they were forged of the same green stone
Then the crack of a whip and Silverwing snapped her mouth shut. She shifted, settling back down more firmly on her belly as she proceeded to ignore him.
Corlys turned, seeing his wayward grandson Ikit walk up next to him. The boy had grown, so far removed from the young lad who had left Dragonstone nearly a decade ago. Now he was near Corlys's own height, shoulders broad and features stern.
Ikit meanwhile was coiling up the whip, a vicious-looking thing lined in barbs. He looped it onto his waist, clad in gleaming blue armour with silver accents. More of the green stones studded the armour, around the wrists and up the forearm, dotted about the collar. Goggles were shoved up into his silvery hair, longer than Corlys remembered.
Like Silverwing's it was in that same unmistakable make. Valyrian steel.
But that came secondary when Corlys moved reaching out to grab his grandson in a hug. Ikit hissed against his cheek, low and irritable but he didn't push Corlys away.
"It's good to see you again, lad. It's been too long," Corlys said warmly, stepping back. Down below the ships were anchored, with men swarming along them as they readied to set sail.
Ikit eyed him before letting out an amused huff, "You nearly die-died, bad reunion."
"Pah, I won't argue you with you there. Though what was that?" Corlys asked, raising a hand to rub at the healed over flesh of the cut. "The tonic you gave me, which healed my wound so swiftly."
"Serum I made," Ikit replied. He rummaged through one of the satchels at his hip and pulled free a flask, brandishing it to the Sea Snake. The bottle was of black glass, but he could see the green tinge radiating from within that he nearly mistook for wildfire. "Not just heal but help with old wounds. Not overuse, otherwise strange things will bend your body, yes-yes. But a sip more than enough to fix the slash. But no more, not within a moon."
"I've never met something of such healing."
A grunt, "Because Westeros is stupid-dumb with magic, despite how useful it is. This one such thing. Warpstone superior."
Corlys leaned forward, "Is it one of the things you've been investigating, in your time at Essos?"
"One. Many others, such as the warplock jezzails, ratling gun, warpfire thrower, warp grinders, poisoned wind globadiers and mortars, warplightning cannon, Doom-Flayer, Doomwheel. Mine-mine. Last two not much use due to dragon, but fun to run over the dead-not-dead in Stygai."
"You like the word doom," Corlys commented wryly.
"Good word. Should use it more."
"You should come back to Dragonstone," Corlys said. "You can show your family all these inventions of yours. All the things you've created in your years of absence. I am to head back to Driftmark soon enough, you can accompany me. You will be welcomed joyfully, Rhaenyra will adore for you to be back home. You can meet your new little brothers, Aegon and Viserys. You can reunite with Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Lucerys has been riding Arrax for quite some time and both Morning and Tyraxes's are growing swift. Same as Stormcloud."
Ikit shook his head, lips a narrow line before he muttered, "Not yet."
"Not yet- what can you still be planning? It is nearing a decade since you have last seen your family, been to Driftmark or Dragonstone," he demanded, frustration leaking into his voice.
The silver-haired prince raised an armoured finger, "One last thing I must-must make."
"And what is that? What is so important?"
Ikit smiled then, a completely deranged and grotesque thing. He learned forward and Corlys found himself leaning back on instinct, a part of him nervous the boy was about to leap at him. "The genius and patience to bring it back, make it here! The wyrdstone is the most powerful of all weapons and even moreso with those that control the sky-above! For I have near perfected it from its once awful glory, yet combined now with Targaryen and dragon blood with magicked steel-shell and the amplification bound to the eggs, for for it will be travel sized. Awfully convenient for me-me, horrific for my foes. Great-great for all to see! I will show you all once done-finished-complete."
"That sounds like madness," Corlys said, voice carefully neutral.
The prince laughed at him, "Mad? Mad? You squeak-say I am mad-mad? Yes-yes! Is it so far from madness to wisdom?! Greatness for the insanity?! I am the greatest there ever is for even in this dull-dumb mundane world I have brought back the most spectacular devastation one can think-think of!"
Corlys didn't say anything, almost feeling like he would prefer to face Silverwing and her sickness instead of his grandson in that moment.
"If you didn't intend on coming back, then why are you here in the Stepstones?" Corlys finally asked, after Ikit had just stood there staring silently at him for near a minute but no longer looked like he was about to snap in half.
Prince Ikit didn't so much as blink as he shrugged, "Heard fighting in here yet again when visiting Myr to pick up something. Was curious and had to wait for things to...grow in Stygai workshop so not much to be done after taking the item. So came here quick to see, especially since could not read-see the letters so came to find anyone I know during battle. Which I did."
"The letters? My good wife assured me she left them with her aunt, which you are known to visit. Saera swore an oath."
"She burned the letters."
"What?! Why would she-"
"Granddaughter kill-killed her," Ikit said with a grin, amusement making his eyes gleam. "She is no longer an issue. Time in Volantis is done. Now I lurk-stalk in Stygai to await the awful glory. Should be completed by years end."
"Is that why Silverwing looks the way she is? Being in Stygai?" Corlys asked. The wind yanked at his cloak and he tugged it closer.
"Looks what?"
"Ill. She is growing...those stones upon her," Corlys gestured to where the dragon was. Her tail was flicking back and forth, dragging long furrows in the ground.
"Hm, yes-yes. That is why. Dragon magic very powerful," Ikit said nonchalantly. "But as I say, I was in the area so here I am. Now back to Stygai to await perfection."
Corlys sighed, already knowing he wasn't about to change Ikit's mind. No one every could and it seemed growing up hadn't changed that in the lad. He wanted that final work of his, that grand glory even if Corlys didn't understand it. Still, he was grateful Ikit had saved him, both with his attack and the aftermath, even if he was disappointed the boy wasn't about to come back. Yet once he was finished with whatever it was he was working on he would return to Westeros fully.
Rhaenyra would be overjoyed to know that there was now a set 'time' somewhat, for her son to return. Even if it would be at the turn of 130AC yet it now meant it was definite. Corlys himself would have to prepare as well.
The Sea Snake sighed, not even bothering to argue as they made their way to Silverwing. He felt deeply intrigued by what had entranced Ikit so intently, near to madness, but Targaryens were known for fixations. The huge dragon shifted at their approach, still on her belly but now level.
"Den mother got the statue?" Ikit suddenly asked.
"Yes, it's in the entry hall of Dragonstone." At the very least the arrival of Goddess Syrax meant Rhaenyra had- grudgingly -let him keep the Cold One.
"Good. Hard to find. Harder to move," Ikit said even as he uncoiled the whip. With a sharp snap he flicked it forward, and Silverwing immediately leaned heavily at an angle so her shoulder was almost on the ground. Despite the movement the bell didn't so much as twitch.
Ikit paused, then offered the strange black flask to Corlys. The Sea Snake took it, noting how oddly warm it felt. It was small enough there seemed to only be a few mouthfuls left yet Corlys knew how potent it was.
"I can make more now," Ikit said, even as he used the whip to pull down the coiled ladder upon Silverwing. "That just in case something stupid-dumb happens. Many stupid things here."
"It seems quite handy to have. You have my thanks for both the gift and the usage of it upon me, grandson."
"Only take one sip. One." he suddenly spun to face Corlys, making him balk.
"What happens if there is more taken?" Corlys couldn't help but ask.
"Turn into twisted-man mutant. Try to kill-kill family. Probably succeed. Once per moon turn. Never more."
"Very well. I will keep it myself so none can misuse it," Corlys promised. Keeping Daemon away from the flask would probably be the biggest issue. He would only share its properties with Rhaenys, he decided.
"Good. Now you can wait in anticipation of when my greatest work is done-complete. You tell den mother that."
Corlys sighed but nodded, watching as Ikit easily scaled up Silverwing's ladder. He reeled it up, hooking it back in place as Silverwing leveled out her stance. The ground shuddered as the huge beast shifted, facing the cliffs.
"Tell littermate and birth-kin I say 'Hello'," Ikit said.
"I will," Corlys said.
Silverwing launched herself off the cliff, Corlys shielding his face from the great buffet of wind. The dragon beat its wings with a noise like thunder before she flew off over the twisted islands of the Stepstons, heading back towards Essos.
Corlys sighed. It went both better and worse than he expected. At the very least he knew the lad would be home by the years end and now Corlys held that odd potion in hand. He turned the bottle back and forth, wondering how much such a concoction could be worth. Though the draw backs, with the deranged mutations, sounded like something form a horrifying tale. Yet if the boy learned the secrets from Stygai, then Corlys knew he was not speaking lightly of the side effects.
Then there was that work, that weapon, Ikit was so excited about. Corlys had to admit to himself, he was deeply curious as well.
"Shall we set off, my lord?" one of his men asked.
"Aye, it's time to go home to share this news," Corly said, Silverwing's form now just a distant spec. "Both in reclaiming the Stepstones and of Prince Ikit."
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