Pre-Chapter A/N: More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
LATE 108 AC
The Targaryens burned their dead. It was fitting of a house with dragons on their sigil and dragons as their mounts. We, Velaryons, however, cast ours into the sea. It was not just a matter of casting the body into the sea, though; there was a process that we followed for our honored dead. It could be as simple or as complicated as you wanted it to be. Of course, the simpler you went, the graver the insult you were seen to be paying to the deceased. Someone who had died ignobly would probably just be buried in the earth. That was the greatest insult of them all. A step up was tying their body to driftwood and then pushing them into the sea. Above that was using an already made boat. One of the highest was to cast the body into the sea tied to a full ship.
But even that was not the highest honor that could be paid to our dead. That was what Laena, Rhaenys, and I did now. I strained and chopped the plank of wood into two before moving it toward the machine that would help me bend it just the way it needed to be. For the greatest of our dead, their direct family would build a boat during the week of mourning. That boat would be pushed from shore by the heir, and then it was expected to make the straight journey to the deceased's personal ship he had captained when he was alive. And then said heir would be expected to nail both ships with arrows to set them alight from a distance and the funeral celebrations would not end until the fire had run its course.
"We shouldn't burn him here. He deserved to be burned off the coast of Driftmark like his ancestors," Laena said, even as she held two planks together for mother to hammer them together.
"Your father did not want a retreat. He was adamant that we not abandon this. Even leaving to mourn him would be a setback he wouldn't have countenanced."
"He's dead. Dead people can't countenance anything."
"That is why it is even more important that we do his will." Mother pushed, and that was that. We continued to build. This was the first time I was ever building something exclusively with my hands in this life, and the same went for both my mother and sister. I wished it didn't, but it showed. It was a good boat, definitely seaworthy, but it was nothing compared to what I had initially drawn up. Instead of that impressive mini-ship that would show his magnificence and how much we valued him, it was all we could do to make a small fishing boat. I had confidence it would sail, though. Sail far enough to reach his ship at the very least. A ship that had been doused in a cocktail of accelerants to make it easier to set alight when the time came.
Vaemond took it out to sea. He sailed it himself, manning every aspect of the ship on his own and weeping all the way as he took the Seasnake out to the sea. When he felt he had taken it far enough, he dropped the anchor and the sails. The sails were a pure black instead of the blue with the Velaryon Seahorse that father had preferred. Those sails would now be used on my own flagship as tradition demanded.
The rest of us watched from the shore as he took a fishing boat and rowed it back. In a different world, there might have been singing, maybe even crying. Tears at a Velaryon funeral were discouraged until the body began to burn, and singing? Well, let's just say the silence was part of the ambiance and it wasn't a good idea to ruin it.
The silence was choking, though. For today, the usually vibrant waters of the Stepstones lay limp. Almost like they could feel the importance of what was happening here—like they could tell just who we were sending to their depths to rest within their waves. The standard waving and whooshing of the water as it crashed against the rocks of the shore were near silent, barely in hearing range.
Vaemond returned, and the next part of the funeral proceeded with no words exchanged. Vaemond the younger, Rhogar, and more of my cousins carried the boat to the shore for me, doing their jobs as less direct relations. I took a deep breath, tried not to look at him. The body had kept remarkably well, probably because of his Valyrian roots, but to look down and see his eyes devoid of light was not something I wanted to do. The sight would stick with me for too long, I knew.
I stepped into the water, pushing the boat in front of me. It was heavy when I pushed it across the earth, but here in the sea, it almost seemed to be moving on its own. I pushed it down until my trousers were fully submerged and the same happened to my shirt. I only made my final push when my head was near fully covered in the water. The boat sailed straight and true.
I watched it as it made the journey, nursed in the waves. I knew the force I'd put on the boat had more than died out by this point, but the boat only slowed down a bit, still carried by the waves as it made the journey down to Corlys' ship. It sailed like the Seasnake sailed for most of his life. This was his final journey. His final voyage. His tenth and his last. I watched the boat as it crossed the sea to the ship even as I backed out of the sea and made my way back to land.
I felt hands wrap around me as I was on dry land again—Laena's. Another pair of arms came over the both of us, enclosing us in a hug from behind. It was Mother. I could smell the freshness of her perfume even with so little wind out. It took close to an hour for the boat to drift to the ship. We all watched it progress in silence just as the tradition demanded, and the second we could confirm contact, Vaemond was handing me a bow and a quiver of arrows. There was something behind his eyes, and I knew I would have to deal with whatever offense my father had caused with his words in his last minutes, true as they were. He was probably more willing to tell the truth since he was not going to have to live with any of the consequences of his candor.
I took hold of the weapons and stared down the targets. We'd done a lot of archery practice back in the Stormlands—it was my favorite bit of martial training—mostly because Manfred cared little for it and for a brief period, I could get a reprieve from his sarcasm, his cutting remarks, his 'Manfred-ing'.
Taking a breath, a good deep inhale, I drew the bow. The ship had been doused in so much accelerant that if I was able to get this flaming arrow on any part of it, then the entire thing would begin to burn. The connection between both vessels meant the boat would begin burning soon after the ship started to burn. 'Ok, no pressure, you've got this.'
I aimed straight for the tallest of the masts and waited for my moment. For the wind to still, for the world to hold its breath, and when it did, I exhaled at the same time I fired. I missed the tallest mast by a large margin, but like expected and hoped, the arrow struck the decking in front of the mast's base. The fire took a second before spreading from the arrow onto the wood, and then the ship began to burn in a matter of seconds, the fire spreading so quickly that it was almost unreal. When the boat caught fire as well, I released a breath I had not realized I'd been holding even as mother's grip around us tightened.
"I am so proud of the both of you," Mother whispered in our ears. We watched the fire spread for the rest of the night, into the early hours of the morning. Only when the ship and the boat had finished burning and whatever remained had sunk did we leave the beach and head inside our accommodations. Both Mother and Laena were staying in the old pirate King's quarters that Corlys had commandeered while I had taken residence in one of the rooms within the longhouse. It was far from a castle, which is what both the ladies would be used to, but neither of them were complaining. Not yet, at least.
I closed my eyes, feeling a headache building as I took a seat in my room. I was the Lord of the Tides now, and that meant a lot. For one, I had to take charge of informing the realm of Father's death. Delivering letters from here was a mission and a half, having to send a messenger to the continent to send the messages from a castle with a good rookery and Maester. For informing the King, I decided to send Rhogar and his brothers. They were Velaryons, so it wouldn't be seen as much of an insult, considering I was still busy at war, and I did not want to send anyone else. For one, Vaemond could pull something with the regency if I sent him. I doubted Viserys would indulge my other so openly by overturning Father's literal last wishes to place some upstart he knew little about in charge.
I thought about what to tell the King. Corlys had perished in combat and been buried immediately as Velaryon burial traditions demanded. I had taken over as Lord of the Tides with my Mother as my Regent, and I was going to continue the pacification of the Stepstones pursuant to the writ he had granted for the endeavor. I also added that I understood my Father's death would mean he would need a new master of ships and was volunteering my Uncle Vaemond for the position. That seemed sufficient.
Putting Vaemond forward was a calculated move. For one, I didn't want it. The state of affairs where House Velaryon ended up bearing a lot of the costs associated with the Royal fleet. Our sailors crewed their ships and were paid from our vault. Our gold went toward their repairs, our expertise into their ship design and building. House Velaryon lost too much in the agreement for what it gained. Corlys had been fine with soft power, but when it came to me, there was only one type of power that mattered.
Speaking of things that mattered, I needed a plan now. I sighed, pushing myself to my feet and beginning to ransack the room looking for writing materials. I thought I had time, but then this world just had to go take my father—my safety net—to drive home the point that things here could change in a matter of seconds. Well, the message was received, so I had to plan for it now, for the future that I was not sure was coming.
First things first, was taking the Stepstones. We had full control over one of the islands now—Grey Gallows. The lack of communication from Daemon's contingent told me they were yet to fully take Bloodstone as well. While I thought about Daemon, I made the choice to have a message sent informing him of Corlys' death. If he was going to betray us, then it would be better he did it now. If he reneged from the war effort later on, then it would be harder to figure things out if he did so now, I could just plan for the future and move on.
Beyond Daemon, though, there were other things to think about. Burning Tyrosh's fleet had been designed to delay the Triarchy from meddling, and I doubted they would be able to do anything for a while. If both Lys and Myr moved without Tyrosh being able to contribute, then they would find themselves in a situation where part of the Triarchy were moving forward but another part of it was stagnant. Needless to say, that was how partnerships came to an end. Dorne was another matter to consider. Nothing from them, yet. But that could change between one day and the next. They probably would step in if only it looked like we were winning and not just burning all the Realm's young men in a fool attempt half a world away from their homes.
Altogether, the Stepstones had twenty-three islands that were big enough to matter in any way. Of the twenty-three, the three largest were Bloodstone, Grey Gallows, and Torturer's Deep. We had taken out the pirate ships, so all that remained were the landings, the exterminations, and the garrisoning. With how long travel could take and how much time that I expected each of the pirate kings to last, I anticipated that the war would be over by the end of next year, and that meant I had to get to the hard part—ruling. Thankfully, in a year and a half, I would still be fifteen and change. I'd have time here before I had to return and take charge of Driftmark proper. Maybe enough time to build something useful. Of course, that all relied on there not being any delays from Dorne or the Triarchy. If they managed to cause useful resistance to my plans, then that could see things here stretch on by another year.
I was relegating figuring out Daemon till later on. Corlys might have changed his mind on giving the islands away at his deathbed, but that was not going to be something I pushed. After we won, I would crown Daemon, and I would give him the chance to rule. To rule in truth, even, not as a puppet or whatever. I was going to ply him with so many problems and decisions that he would inevitably leave to lay the crown at Viserys' feet. After that, taking over as administrator was just a matter of doing it. Either way, I could guarantee that sooner or later, House Velaryon would rule the Stepstones. It would be here I would forge my legacy, on these barren, storm-swept stones. Driftmark's glory was Corlys'. What I would do here would be mine entirely.
How could I make the Stepstones great, though? It would be a massive investment—both in terms of time and resources. All for something Daemon would still have a claim over? Something told me he would come back the second these rocks proved to be worth anything. Fuck, I'd have to betray him, wouldn't I? That would be fun. Very fun. I guess I just had to make sure that Igneel was big enough to survive the fight when that time came.
There was a knock on the door. Before I could order them in, the door swung open, admitting Laena. Behind her came our Mother.
"You shouldn't be alone tonight," Laena said.
"None of us should," Rhaenys said authoritatively.
"This room can't contain all three of us, though," I said, pointing at the bed, not sure I wanted to argue with the red-rimmed eyes both the women in my life sported.
"You're coming back with us. Nothing would make me sleep here," Laena said, turning up her nose at the sparseness of my accommodations.
I chuckled, taking her outstretched hand and allowing her to lead me back to their room.
XXXXXX
"We take Torturer's Deep next," I said to the gathered crew of Captains.
"Torturer's Deep?" Vaemond asked, and I noticed the way his captains turned to him as he spoke. Almost like they expected him to be the one with actual authority here. They had given me doubtful looks when they entered the ship and found me sitting on the chair that was ordinarily reserved for the Captain. With the Seasnake gone, we were hosted on Vaemond's ship.
"Precisely that. It's the third largest island on these Isles, and one with a fractured pirate presence. Once we deal with the Seaspeaker, we will move for it next."
"Nephew, would it not be wiser for us to consolidate our gains here before moving on to get more enemies and risk stretching ourselves too thin?" I did not much enjoy the way the Captains began nodding at his words. I guess it was just my luck that we were not Ironborn. Could I have lost a Kingsmoot to this man? Well, maybe. I'd have just roasted him alive from astride Igneel the second he declared interest in stealing my inheritance. Thankfully, I didn't have to engage in that bit of kinslaying. I'd keep an eye on him, though.
I noticed a white bird fly past the window and tracked it with my eyes, but it was too far gone to follow. And then I spoke. "Daemon is unlikely to succeed at Bloodstone for a while now. While we could move to consolidate our hold here and move there once he finishes, I can not abide standing still and leaving the advantage to those who seek to deny our rule over these islands. They will come—whether it is Dorne or the Triarchy, and when they do, I want all the pirates that call these islands home to be dead and buried," I said.
"And you will have our help when you do it," a feminine voice said. My head snapped to the door. All the captains were present and accounted for, who could it be? There was a familiar flash of pale skin as a hand pushed the door open and Mother stepped into the room. Behind her, Laena waited.
"Absolutely not," I said, even as I could tell this was not an argument I would be able to win. The set of her lips made it clear enough.
A/N: Rhaenys actually does something? Yes, she does. Also, how do you feel about the funeral? Tried to dwell on it a bit, slow things down. As far as not getting more people in, they haven't broadcast the fact that Corlys is dead yet, and with how slowly information spreads in this world, don't just expect people to react to things as soon as they happen. Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.