Dragonstone Castle, Evening
The torches lining the corridor flickered in the breeze that filtered through the ancient stone, their golden light dancing on the black walls of Dragonstone.
Aegon moved at a measured pace, Ser Clement a few steps behind, the soft sound of their boots echoing down the hall.
He'd been surprised when the queen's servant had informed him: Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys had arrived earlier that afternoon. Now they waited in the great hall, bearing gifts, no less.
As Aegon neared the tall oak doors, the muffled sounds of conversation and laughter reached him. The doors opened and he stepped into the hall.
Queen Alysanne sat comfortably near the fire, Maegelle and Gael flanking her. Lady Jocelyn stood nearby, her posture straight.
All heads turned toward Aegon.
The Queen's face brightened. "Come, Aegon. We were waiting for you. Lord Corlys has come to offer his congratulations."
Corlys stepped forward, dignified in his dark blue cloak. "I had to," he said with a faint but sincere smile. "Prince Aegon has achieved something I can hardly put into words."
Aegon dipped his head respectfully. "Thank you, my lord, and forgive my delay. I'd sequestered myself for some study."
"The Queen mentioned as much," Corlys replied, his tone edged with amusement. "Trying to forge Valyrian steel, was it?"
Aegon gave a slight nod. "An early attempt, at least."
Corlys chuckled. "Then I suppose my wait was well spent. But take care, my prince, at this rate, you'll have every lord in the realm begging you to forge a blade for their house."
Aegon allowed the faintest smile. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Near the fire, Rhaenys rose from her seat, gently passing the infant in her arms to a waiting maid. Her eyes lit up. "Cousin," she said warmly, stepping forward and embracing him. "Always a pleasure to see you."
Aegon returned the gesture with polite grace. As they parted, his gaze drifted to the child now nestled in the maid's arms.
"This must be Laena."
Rhaenys smiled and nodded .
Corlys gestured toward the gifts arranged neatly along one wall. "We brought a few tokens from Driftmark."
Rhaenys moved to present them, opening one of the carved chests. "Bolts of silk from Lys," she said, lifting a shimmering fold of violet fabric. "And spices, cinnamon, pepper, even myrrh."
The air filled with a soft, fragrant tang as she opened a jar.
Maegelle, murmured an appreciative comment about the craftsmanship on the fabric. Beside her, Gael leaned forward, eyes wide, clearly fascinated by the treasures.
Queen Alysanne, however, kept her attention on Aegon. Her smile was warm but knowing. She had seen this game played before, many times.
Aegon's expression remained neutral, polite. He listened as Rhaenys continued to explain the items.
It was Jocelyn who spoke next, her tone light but unmistakably purposeful. "Lord Corlys did not just come to bring gifts, Aegon. He came to see the prince who wields flame. Perhaps… you might give him a glimpse?"
Corlys inclined his head. "That I did," he said carefully. "Curiosity got the better of me. The truth is harder to believe without seeing it. The flame of Old Valyria, that is no small thing, for either of our houses."
There was a beat of silence.
Aegon remained still. The request did not surprise him, he'd anticipated it the moment the gifts were presented, but it irked him nonetheless.
He had grown used to the curious, the awed. But that did not make being asked to perform any more pleasant.
Still, refusing after such courtesies would be seen as rude. "Very well," he said at last, his voice even and composed. "I will show you."
Later in the evening.
Corlys sat at the long dining table, his hands resting still on either side of his goblet.
Around him, the hall buzzed faintly with the clink of silverware and the soft murmurs of conversation as servants moved quietly, laying platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, and honeyed root vegetables before the assembled.
But Corlys's mind was elsewhere.
He barely registered the scent rising from the dishes. His thoughts were still in the training yard, back where Prince Aegon had stood beneath the dusky sky and had shown his pyromancy.
Two armored dummies had been set across from him. Without a word, the boy had lifted his arm, and fire answered.
It wasn't the wild, erratic fire of a torch or a forge. It had been precise. Controlled. A ball of flame burst from Aegon's palm, striking one dummy in the center. The next followed an instant later, engulfing the second.
Corlys could still feel the heat, phantom against his face. He'd felt his heart seize for a breath, caught between awe and fear.
It was Valyrian sorcery, real and terrifying.
He reached for his goblet and took a long, slow sip of wine, trying to steady himself. The thought came again, clear and sharp:
The Velaryons must have that power.
If that blood, if that flame, flowed through his descendants, through Laena's children, House Velaryon would no longer just sail beside the Targaryens.
They could rise above them.
The dragons had long symbolized Targaryen supremacy, but this boy had both the dragon and the flame.
Corlys's eyes drifted down the table.
Queen Alysanne spoke easily with Lady Jocelyn, while Maegelle sat in quiet dignity beside Gael, who laughed at something one of the maids had said.
All of them had watched Aegon's demonstration with calm familiarity.
None seemed shocked. It wasn't new to them.
They've seen it before, he realized. That's why Lady Jocelyn welcomed the idea so easily.
Across from him, Rhaenys sat quietly, her gaze resting on Aegon. She had spoken only a few words since the demonstration, but she kept stealing glances at her cousin. There was curiosity in her eyes, perhaps even reverence.
In the brief moment they'd shared in their chambers after the demonstration, Rhaenys had spoken simply. Her voice had been low, serious.
"Make the proposal happen." she'd said.
And he would.
With fire like that in Laena's future, how could he not?
He looked at the boy again, Prince Aegon. Not yet ten, yet already with the height and form of a squire of fifteen.
The youngest living dragonrider. And now, the only known Valyrian pyromancer since the Doom.
The longer Corlys watched him, the more certain he felt.
He gave a brief look toward Lady Jocelyn, then to his wife. His resolve hardened.
Taking a breath, he rose.
The scrape of his chair silenced the hall. All eyes turned to him.
Lifting his goblet, not in toast, but to command the room, he spoke with the steady tone of a man who knew the weight of his words.
"If I may, Your Grace."
Queen Alysanne, seated at the head of the table, inclined her head with quiet authority. "Speak freely, Lord Corlys."
He nodded and stepped slightly forward, facing her fully. "I have long respected your wisdom, Your Grace, and the strength with which you've held House Targaryen together through many trials. And I have remained loyal, even when the tides turned against what seemed fair."
A pause. Subtle. Intentional.
"You see, my wife, Rhaenys… is your granddaughter.The only child of your firstborn son, Prince Aemon. And yet, when the matter of succession arose, it was Prince Baelon, your second-born, who was chosen as heir."
The temperature in the hall dipped just slightly. Rhaenys looked down briefly, her expression unreadable.
Corlys continued, his voice steady. "We did not question the King's will. Nor do I now. But to say that it passed without pain… would be false. My wife has never spoken against her kin, but no husband could fail to see what was lost that day, not only to her, but to history."
Jocelyn remained still, lips pressed into a faint line.The Queen, however, said nothing yet.
Corlys bowed his head slightly. "I speak not to reopen wounds, but to honor what was lost…and build something stronger for what lies ahead."
He looked to Rhaenys for a moment, then to the infant Laena, sleeping in a maid's arms beside the hearth.
"I come not only as husband to your granddaughter, but as a father. I believe in legacy, Your Grace. In fire. In strength that endures through blood."
He turned now toward Aegon, sitting quietly, a single eyebrow raised in interest.
"Prince Aegon is no ordinary child. He is a dragonrider, the youngest in the history of Westeros. And now… he commands flame with his hands. Not in dreams. Not in stories. But in truth."
He faced the Queen again, his voice quiet but firm.
"My daughter, Laena, is still young, a babe in arms. This is not a call for wedding bells, but for a bond. A promise. I propose a betrothal, between her and Prince Aegon. To bind House Velaryon and House Targaryen in a way that honors the past and prepares for what lies ahead."
The silence that followed was deep and heavy.
Queen Alysanne regarded him with sharp, thoughtful eyes. "You ask much, Lord Corlys."
"I ask only for what might benefit us all," Corlys said. "For unity. For strength. For the blood of Old Valyria to remain strong in both line and legacy."
Lady Jocelyn now leaned forward gently, her voice soft but steady. "It would bring comfort, Your Grace… to know that my granddaughter will be joined to a boy I have seen wield flames. He carries the blood of the dragon… and now, the flame of Valyria itself."
Maegelle and Gael exchanged glances but said nothing. Rhaenys remained composed, though her hands tightened slightly in her lap.
Queen Alysanne said nothing for a long moment.
Then finally, she spoke, her voice calm, but no less commanding for it. "I must consider what is best for the realm, for my grandson… and for the child in your arms. But I do not dismiss your offer, Lord Corlys. Nor do I ignore your loyalty… or your wounds."
Queen Alysanne's silence lingered. Then, her gaze shifted, to Aegon, then Rhaenys, and finally to Corlys once more.
Her tone sharpened slightly, "But such matters demand more than goodwill and timing. The King must be consulted. So too must Prince Baelon."
She let the words hang. Her expression shifted slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to signal caution.
Queen Alysanne continued, "Know this as well. Viserys and Daemon remain unwed. They are older, and of the same blood. This matter touches more than hearts, it touches succession."
The words cut cleanly through the air.
"I know your proposal comes from care and foresight, Lord Corlys," she continued, her gaze unwavering, "and I do not question your devotion to your house, or to my granddaughter Rhaenys."
Her eyes shifted to the sleeping Laena in the maid's arms. Then slowly, deliberately, they returned to Aegon, who, as always, sat composed and unreadable.
"But Prince Aegon is the third son. Viserys and Daemon stand ahead of him, and neither has yet been matched. Their futures are undecided. Their fates… still in motion."
Her words were even, but each syllable struck with purpose.
Then, a note of softness entered her voice, the mask of queen briefly becoming that of grandmother.
"And yet I understand why your eyes turn to him."
She looked once more to Aegon. There was warmth now, subtle, but genuine. The kind only a grandmother could offer.
"Aegon has already bonded with Dreamfyre. He wields fire not in tales, but in waking truth. The flame of Valyria lives in him…undeniably."
Around the table, subtle reactions stirred.
Queen Alysanne's voice cooled once more.
"That is why I must consider not only the strength of a proposed match, but the ripples it would send through the realm itself."
She turned to Corlys again. "You offer the hand of your daughter, yet still a babe. And while I respect your boldness… I will not be hurried into binding him."
Lady Jocelyn shifted slightly, clearly restraining herself. Her expression, while composed, betrayed a flicker of conflict. She had spoken earlier in Laena's favor, perhaps too eagerly. Now, she seemed to weigh whether speaking again would worsen the Queen's mood.
Then Alysanne added, her voice quieter, but precise as a blade drawn beneath silk: "There is also Gael to consider."
The statement struck like a dropped stone in water.
Gael froze. Her eyes lifted to her mother, wide. Not frightened, shocked.
Aegon's gaze flicked to her in that moment, just briefly. Enough to notice her reaction. Enough for the room to notice he had.
Lady Jocelyn let out a small sigh.
Maegelle looked down, her fingers now steepled tightly together in her lap.
Queen Alysanne didn't dwell on the name. She merely added, "She is of age. She, too, carries the dragon's blood. And she has not yet been promised. There are many bonds that must be weighed, Lord Corlys… before I can tie a new one."
The message, though politely delivered, could not have been clearer.
This match, between Aegon and Laena, was not hers to give. Not yet. And perhaps, not ever.
Corlys stood still, absorbing the silence.
Then, slowly, he bowed his head. "That is all I ask, Your Grace. That you weigh it."
The Queen offered a single nod, composed once more. "And I shall."
Only then did the moment release its grip.
The hall exhaled.
Plans had been laid.
Yet the Queen's board had more pieces than Corlys had counted.
And not all of them would move as he expected.
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