90 AC. The Isle of Antillia
Dreamfyre's vast wings cut through the cool sea air with a deafening clap, driving powerful gusts of wind that whipped up sand and dry grass along the shore. A heavy, scorching breath escaped the dragon's maw, reeking of sulfur and burnt stone. When the blue-and-silver she-dragon finally planted her talons upon the firm earth and folded her wings, Corlys Velaryon was the first to slide nimbly from her broad back. Once his feet touched the ground, he extended a hand to Viserra, helping the princess down from her saddle.
Viserra stepped onto the soft shore of the island, her breathing still rapid and ragged from the exhilaration flooding her chest and the slight weariness after the long flight across the sea. Her silver hair was wind-tousled, her purple eyes burning with excitement. But before she could fully catch her breath, the sky above them was eclipsed by three colossal silhouettes. Sunlight vanished in an instant, giving way to a trio of drifting shadows. The ground beneath their feet trembled ever so slightly as, one after another, three majestic winged dragons belonging to her husband descended upon the coast.
Corlys, utterly devoid of fear, walked unhurriedly toward his scaled beasts. Viserra watched, holding her breath, as the Lord of High Tide calmly approached the vast black dragon whose scaled hide shimmered with deep purple patterns at every movement and catch of the sun's rays. Corlys confidently reached out his hand and began softly stroking its massive snout, right between the sharp bony growths, before moving on to the other two - the silver-blue she-dragon and the grey dragon with the emerald gleam in his eyes.
The black giant, Neltharion, lowered his massive head closer to the ground. His purple eyes, like two faceted amethysts, fixed upon Viserra's figure. The dragon drew a deep breath, pulling in air through his nostrils and studying the unfamiliar scent emanating from the Targaryen princess. A low, vibrating rumble issued from his maw, shifting into a strange, guttural hiss.
"Is this the female of whom you spoke to us, Corlys?" Neltharion hissed, turning his head slightly to inspect the girl more closely. "She reeks of old blood and fire. She is strong. You have made the right choice, rider. This female shall bear you stout and formidable offspring, worthy of our pack."
Corlys smiled faintly, never ceasing his stroking of the hard scales along Neltharion's neck, and answered in the hissing, serpentine tongue that sounded to human ears like mysterious and perilous sorcery:
"Yes, Neltharion, this is Viserra. My wife. From this day forth, you must bring no harm to her, nor to her dragon, Dreamfyre. You are bound to protect them as you protect me, for henceforth they are part of our family."
Following Neltharion, the other two she-dragons spoke up. Midir, whose silver scale-hide practically glowed in the sun, dipped her forelimbs slightly into the sand, while Isis, shimmering in a deep shade of grey, fixed her keen emerald gaze upon Viserra.
"We shall protect your female and your future offspring, Corlys," Midir replied, her hiss sounding softer, yet no less resolute. "No threat shall touch them while we are near, so long as our fire burns within our chests."
"No foe shall pass through us," Isis echoed, spreading her immense wings slightly, their membranes responding with an echoing thud. "We shall burn any who dream of ill intent."
Ending his dialogue with his beasts, Corlys turned back to Viserra. The girl stood a few paces away, frozen in place, her stunned gaze fixed upon her husband's three dragons. Corlys gently held out his hand to her, offering an encouraging smile to defuse the tension.
"Come closer, Viserra," he said in a low, soothing voice imbued with absolute assurance. "Be not afraid of them. They know who you are, they feel your blood and shall never bring you harm."
Viserra forced herself to take a step forward, then another. Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm in her chest, yet the pride of Valyrian blood and her trust in her husband triumphed over her momentary confusion. She drew right up beside Corlys, feeling the suffocating heat emanating from the three dragons, like the warmth of a red-hot forge.
"Meet them," Corlys murmured softly, gesturing toward the black giant. "This is Neltharion, the largest and strongest among them. Beside him is Midir, her scales like the purest silver. And this beauty with emerald eyes is Isis."
Viserra cautiously brought a trembling palm to Neltharion's snout. Making no sudden movement, the black dragon merely half-closed his purple eyes, allowing the princess's slender fingers to touch his hot scales. To the touch, they were tough as tempered armor, yet surprisingly smooth. Midir and Isis likewise leaned forward, letting Viserra touch them and grow accustomed to their presence.
At that moment, Dreamfyre, remaining slightly behind, let out a warning, mistrustful growl. Her nostrils flared, puffing clouds of grey smoke, her blue wings quivering nervously. Neltharion's reaction was immediate: the black dragon turned to Dreamfyre and issued a low, rumbling growl in reply. There was no direct aggression in the sound, yet it bore a clear, undeniable warning, whereupon Neltharion hissed softly to Viserra's dragon:
"I shall not harm my rider's female. We are of one blood and one pack from this day until the end of my life."
Dreamfyre caught the message, her growl gave way to a quiet snort, and she lowered her head, allowing the tension to dissipate.
Viserra, awed by what she had witnessed, slowly shifted her gaze from the dragons to Corlys. In her purple eyes read a whole spectrum of questions she had held back until now.
"Corlys..." she began softly, squeezing his palm. "Where did you get these dragons? When we spoke of your voyages, of your visits to the ruins of ancient Valyria, you mentioned nothing - absolutely nothing - of them. How is this even possible? Dragons are extinct everywhere save for House Targaryen!"
Corlys sighed, leading her slightly away from the dragons toward a small rocky ledge that overlooked the snow-white sandy shore and the boundless sea.
"When I told you of Valyria, of its treasures and horrors, I withheld one most crucial detail," Corlys answered calmly, gazing at the waves. "In the very heart of the shattered Peninsula, amidst ashes, venomous fumes, and ruined towers, I managed to find the ancient incubator of one of the Great Houses of Valyria. Marvellously, owing to the most potent wards, sealing spells, and Valyrian sorcery, it was not utterly destroyed during the Doom, and continued to function through all these centuries, sheltered within subterranean catacombs. There I discovered preserved, living eggs. I took them with me, brought them to this island hidden from all eyes, and through the rituals I unearthed, I managed to hatch my dragons. For all these ten years, they have grown and gathered strength here, far from foreign eyes and spies."
Viserra raised her brows in wonder, turning and peering once more at the figures of the three behemoths.
"Ten years?" she repeated, unhidden amazement in her voice. "But Corlys, that is impossible! Neltharion is already the size of Vermithor, if not a touch larger! And Midir and Isis are in no way inferior in size to my Dreamfyre, who is many decades old! How could ten-year-old dragons grow so vast?"
Corlys smiled faintly at her genuine wonder and shook his head.
"There is nothing impossible in it, Viserra - only knowledge, a dash of magic, and alchemy. Besides ordinary meat, I regularly fed them special draughts and decoctions of my own concocting. These elixirs accelerate their growth, strengthen their skeletal frame, render their muscles far more enduring and powerful, and make their scales thick and impenetrable. Moreover, this very island possesses an extraordinarily high magical field. The sorcery wafting in the air and permeating the soil feeds the dragons from within, allowing them to grow at a pace denied to their kin in King's Landing."
Corlys looked at Dreamfyre, who at that moment was cautiously sniffing Midir and Isis, the dragons gradually growing accustomed to one another's scents.
"I promise you, Viserra, that I shall apply this knowledge to Dreamfyre as well," he continued with firm confidence. "Very soon she shall become far larger, stronger, and faster, and her scales shall attain such toughness that no ordinary arrow or ballista shall ever do her harm."
Viserra nodded thoughtfully, watching as the four dragons settled down near one another upon the sun-warmed sand. The gradual acceptance between them was already accomplished, and the atmosphere along the shore had turned peaceful. Yet in the princess's mind arose another question, no less vital.
"But how do you manage to command three dragons at once?" she asked, looking intently into her husband's eyes. "The bond between rider and dragon has ever been deemed sacred and indivisible. No one in the history of the Targaryens or ancient Valyria ever claimed three dragons at once. There is no mention of it in any ancient scroll."
"I have no exact answer to that question even for myself," Corlys admitted frankly. "Perchance it lies in the fact that my innate magical potential far outstrips the reserves of ordinary men, or even most ancient Valyrian dragonlords. My bond with them is deep and foundational. But you have nothing to fear. I shall teach you all that I know. I shall help you become a true rider who senses her dragon as clearly as her own body."
Viserra bit her lip, pondering his words, then asked softly:
"And what of your brothers... Do Daeron and Veylor have dragons? Did you give them dragon eggs?"
Corlys shook his head.
"No. I offered it to them. I had the means to help them claim winged companions of their own, but they both refused. Daeron and Veylor prefer firm ground beneath their feet, the sea, and a traditional sword in hand. To become a dragonrider is no mere whim or privilege, it is a singular gift and a burden that far from everyone can bear. It seems it was truly not for them."
Corlys paused, taking Viserra's hands and looking straight into her eyes. His tone turned more serious and businesslike, touching upon the future of all House Velaryon.
"We must think of the future, Viserra. Of our House and of our line. In days to come, the descendants of my brothers and our own children may wed among themselves. In this manner, the dragons of our House shall never fall into foreign hands, remaining strictly within the family. This is paramount for preserving and strengthening the influence of House Velaryon for centuries to come."
Viserra frowned slightly, a flicker of doubt passing through her eyes - a doubt familiar to Corlys, who knew the dire consequences of certain Valyrian unions.
"But Corlys... closekin marriages... You yourself said what that could lead to. Madness, deformities, the blighting of the blood."
Corlys cut her off with confidence, squeezing her fingers in his palms:
"You need not fear that. Remember the blood-cleansing ritual I performed upon Daeron, Veylor, myself, and you? That ritual utterly burned away every possible taint, sickness, and inheritable flaw from our lineage. Our descendants for generations to come face no danger whatsoever, especially if they wed not full brothers and sisters, but restrict themselves to cousins and distant kin. What is more, I shall see to it that our future children learn to perform this cleansing ritual themselves. Even after my death, this warding shall not vanish."
Viserra felt the burden of anxiety that had accumulated of late gradually lift from her shoulders. The confidence emanating from Corlys calmed her with potent effect.
"And one more thing," Corlys added, looking up at the blue sky. "In all likelihood, your father, King Jaehaerys, upon receiving my letter that you have claimed Dreamfyre, will dispatch Aemon and Baelon to High Tide come tomorrow. Our wedding progress is drawing to a close, Viserra. We shall very soon be summoned to the capital for a serious reckoning."
The girl sighed, knowing her husband was entirely right. The King would never overlook the fact that one of the largest dragons in Westeros now resided in the hands of House Velaryon.
"Well then, it means we have precious little time left alone," she murmured softly.
"Which is precisely why I suggest we waste none of it," Corlys smiled, an eager glint flashing in his eyes. "How say you to taking to the air this very moment? I shall show you what a true dragonlord is capable of."
Viserra smirked, tossing her chin up proudly and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh, Lord Corlys, are you attempting to astonish a princess of House Targaryen? All my life I have watched my brothers Aemon and Baelon fly with masterly skill, watched my father soar through the sky on Vermithor and my mother on Silverwing. I doubt you could show me anything I have not already seen."
Corlys merely gave a mysterious smirk in reply.
"Well then, Princess... After our flight, I shall be sure to ask if you still think the same."
A few minutes later, the island shore echoed once more with a deafening roar. Dreamfyre soared into the sky first, her powerful blue wings catching the updrafts of air. Viserra sat in the saddle, holding the reins securely, feeling utter freedom. Following her into the air rose giant Neltharion with Corlys mounted upon his back, while slightly behind the black dragon flew Midir and Isis, forming a majestic formation.
For some time they circled above the island, reveling in the speed and the biting wind. Corlys and Viserra drew close and parted by turns, as though playing a game of celestial tag. Dreamfyre moved gracefully and swiftly, yet Neltharion, despite his imposing bulk, yielded nothing to her in agility.
Gradually, Corlys began directing Neltharion higher and higher, breaking through a dense layer of sparse white clouds. Viserra, spurred by the thrill of competition, led Dreamfyre after him, striving not to fall behind. Soon they found themselves at a dizzying altitude where the air was cold and pure, and the land below seemed but a tiny green speck amidst the blue expanse of the sea.
The dragons began describing wide, smooth circles in the sky. Viserra leveled Dreamfyre and turned her head to look at her husband. And in that instant, her heart virtually dropped into her boots. She saw Corlys, atop Neltharion's back, leisurely unbuckling the leather safety straps binding him to the heavy saddle.
"Corlys! What are you doing?! Have you lost your mind?!" Viserra screamed at the top of her voice, but the wind whistling in her ears and the roar of rushing air utterly drowned her cry. Corlys could not possibly have heard a single word.
Before the eyes of the stunned and paling princess, Corlys rose to his full height. Neltharion continued to fly steadily, but what happened in the next instant froze Viserra in horror. Corlys took a step forward and simply leapt from the flying dragon into the open abyss!
"NO! CORLYS!" A wild scream, filled with sheer despair, burst from Viserra's chest.
Her husband's figure plummeted rapidly downwards, shrinking in size as he fell in freefall straight toward the distant crags and the sea. Viserra gripped her reins in panic, desperately trying to point Dreamfyre downwards to intercept the falling Corlys. But the she-dragon was too far, and her husband's falling speed increased with every passing second. The princess realized with chilling terror that she simply would not catch him in time, and could only watch the inevitable death of the man she loved.
Tears blurred her eyes, her breath caught. Yet at the very moment when despair was ready to consume her mind entirely, Midir broke from the dragon formation like a lightning streak of silver.
The she-dragon folded her wings and plummeted downwards, dropping like a stone after Corlys. Her speed was incredible. A few moments later, which felt like an eternity to Viserra, Midir matched Corlys's rate of fall, gliding neatly right beneath him. Corlys, maintaining absolute composure, deftly reached out, grabbed firm hold of the ledge of Midir's saddle, and instantly hauled himself over the she-dragon's scaled flank.
Midir immediately unfurled her giant silver wings, catching the air stream with a deafening boom and smoothly pulling out of the dangerous dive. The rapid plunge ceased, replaced by a steady, even flight.
In the next moment, all three of Corlys's dragons - Neltharion, Midir, and Isis - unleashed a triumphant, deafening roar, calling to one another so merrily and in such unison, as though this deadly game were to them a mere accustomed sport.
Breathing heavily and fast, Viserra saw with profound relief Corlys settle into Midir's saddle and leisurely buckle his safety straps. Her fear instantly dissolved into an all-consuming, fierce flash of rage. Sending Dreamfyre downwards, she directed the she-dragon toward the island shore.
Hardly had Dreamfyre's talons touched the sand when Viserra virtually vaulted from the saddle, not even waiting for the dragon to settle fully onto her belly. Corlys and his dragons landed right behind her. No sooner had her husband set foot on the ground than Viserra ran up to him and shoved him with all her strength, pushing both hands against his chest.
"You!... You madman! Madman!" she screamed, holding back none of the emotions surging through her, her voice trembling with a mixture of fury and endured terror. "How dared you?! You made me think you were about to shatter to pieces before my eyes! Do you have any idea what I suffered in those moments?!"
Had her royal upbringing and internal restraint not held her back, she would surely have dealt him a stinging slap - so fierce was the Targaryen princess's wrath. Corlys, however, merely laughed loudly and heartily. He easily drew his infuriated wife to him, enfolding her in a firm, warm embrace, preventing her from shoving him again.
"Now, now, easy, Viserra," he said with a soft smirk, stroking her silver hair. "I told you I could surprise you. I doubt your brothers or anyone else in the royal family are capable of such a feat."
Viserra tried for a few moments more to tear herself from his embrace, then buried her face helplessly against his chest, feeling the steady, calm beating of his heart.
"Never... do you hear me, Corlys? Never do anything like that again!" she breathed softly, yet unequivocally, gradually calming down.
Corlys shook his head slightly, looking at her with honest eyes:
"I cannot promise that entirely, Viserra. The dragons and I have performed this trick dozens of times. They enjoy it as much as I do. It is pure thrill. I trust them with my life without reservation, and they shall never fail me."
Viserra fixed her husband with a stern, demanding gaze:
"Very well. But then promise me something else, you stubborn ram! You strictly, never teach this to our future children! I shall not survive watching my child leap from a dragon!"
Corlys smiled warmly and leaned down, imprinting a kiss upon her forehead with a light touch of his lips.
"That I can promise you. We shall find safer pastimes for our children."
Before they could finish their conversation, the air beside them quivered slightly, and with a distinct popping sound, two short creatures materialized out of nowhere before them, bearing huge, bat-like ears, bulging eyes, and dressed in clean, neatly tied cotton tunics.
"Master Corlys! Dare we offer you and your fair lady a bite to eat?" one of them squeaked in an extraordinarily respectful voice, bowing almost to the very sand.
"Yes, Pip, serve us something to eat right here," Corlys answered calmly.
The second elf, Wink, nodded his head joyously, whereupon both creatures vanished into thin air with a characteristic click, as if they had never been there.
Viserra, slightly bewildered by the sight, stepped back and looked in astonishment from the empty spot to her husband.
"Corlys... What manner of creatures were those?" she asked. "I have never seen the like."
"They are house-elves, Viserra," Corlys explained gently, leading her over to a comfortable blanket laid out nearby. "Very ancient magical beings whose origins trace back to the same distant age when the Children of the Forest of ancient lore walked the earth. They are utterly devoted to me, look after this island, tend to its magical inhabitants, and maintain order here. In the future, they shall serve our descendants with equal faith and loyalty."
Not two minutes had passed before Pip and Wink materialized again, bearing a large tray. Upon it, steaming hot, rested a succulent chicken roasted to a golden crust, freshly baked fluffy bread, and a pitcher of freshly squeezed fruit juice. Bowing, the elves quietly dissolved into the air, leaving the couple to enjoy their meal.
They ate in a calm and pleasant atmosphere, watching the evening sun sink slowly below the horizon, painting the tender sky in crimson and gold hues. When the meal was finished, Corlys rose to his feet and looked up at the darkening firmament.
"It is time to return to High Tide, Viserra," he said. "The journey by dragon shall take several hours, and the sun is already setting."
They mounted Dreamfyre's back. Securing the safety straps and bidding farewell to the remaining dragons resting upon their island, they took to the darkening sky, holding a course back to Driftmark.
90 AC. King's Landing
The next morning in King's Landing dawned foggy and somber. In the private dining chambers of the Red Keep, a heavy, oppressive atmosphere reigned. King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne dined in complete solitude. The exquisite dishes upon the table remained virtually untouched.
The cause of the silence and the anxiety hanging in the air was the mysterious disappearance of Dreamfyre. Aemon and Baelon had returned to the capital only at daybreak. Their dragons were exhausted from the long search, yet the princes had failed to uncover any trace of the vanished she-dragon. The royal family was gravely concerned: a dragon of such magnitude, unrestrained by a rider, posed a mortal threat to the inhabitants of surrounding villages and castles.
"We have not yet sent official letters to the lords with news of Dreamfyre's disappearance," Alysanne spoke softly, breaking the lingering silence and looking at her silent husband with deep anxiety. "We so hoped our boys would find her before panic broke out in the city and the realm. But now, it seems, we simply have no other choice. We must summon the maesters and send ravens throughout Westeros to warn the lords and the smallfolk to be utmost cautious."
Jaehaerys sighed heavily, propping his graying chin on his hand. In his wise, yet now endlessly weary eyes read deep concern and hidden irritation.
"You are right, Alysanne. We can no longer risk the safety of the realm and pretend nothing has occurred. If Dreamfyre attacks livestock, burns down some village, or, gods forbid, kills people... It shall be a catastrophe for the authority of the Crown."
The heavy oaken door to the dining hall opened abruptly and loudly, interrupting the monarch's grim conversation. On the threshold appeared Ser Ryam Redwyne, a knight of the Kingsguard clad in white armor.
"Your Grace," bowed the knight, his voice sounding composed and stern. "Grand Maester Elysar has arrived. He claims the matter brooks not a moment's delay and demands your immediate, personal attention."
Jaehaerys frowned, his lips tightening into a thin line, and he straightened in his chair.
"Bid him enter."
Grand Maester Elysar entered the chamber with rapid steps, the chain of various metals clinking about his neck. In his hands he held an already unsealed letter, while upon his pale, wrinkled face froze an expression of extreme distress, disbelief, and utter bewilderment.
"Your Grace..." murmured the maester, bowing. "A raven has just arrived from Driftmark. A letter from Lord Corlys Velaryon. You... you must read this."
The King extended his hand and took the rolled scroll. Jaehaerys began reading carefully the lines penned in the firm hand of the Lord of High Tide. With every line read, the monarch's expression grew ever more stern and dark. The King's brows met at the bridge of his nose, his jaw clenching so hard that muscle worked beneath his skin.
Alysanne, seeing the stark change in her husband, held her breath. Her heart squeezed with a dread foreboding.
"Jaehaerys... What is it? Has something happened to our Viserra? Is she unharmed? Speak!" the Queen asked in anxious demand, rising from her seat.
The King did not answer his wife immediately. He slowly lowered the letter onto the table, raised a heavy, icy gaze to the standing Maester Elysar, and spoke cold, commanding, brooking no argument:
"Elysar. The contents of this letter shall not leave this room. Not a living soul in the castle shall know what is written here. Do you understand me? If a single rumor leaks out - I shall know who is to blame."
"Yes, Your Grace. Utterly understood. I shall be silent as the grave," the maester bowed, feeling the threat emanating from the King.
"You are dismissed," Jaehaerys cut him off, then turned to Ser Ryam Redwyne. "Ser Ryam. Instantly find Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon. Wherever they may be - let them appear before me urgently, this very minute."
The knight of the Kingsguard bowed without a word and, along with the paling maester, left the dining hall, closing the heavy oaken doors firmly behind them.
Hardly were they left alone when Alysanne rose from her seat, no longer able to contain the mounting, agonizing anxiety.
"Jaehaerys, answer me at last! Keep me not in suspense! What has happened to our daughter?! Is she alive?!"
The King heavily turned his gaze upon her, and the harsh tension in his voice relaxed slightly, replaced by deep, all-consuming vexation and hidden wrath.
"Viserra is well and utterly unharmed, Alysanne. All is well with her. And... Dreamfyre has also been found. She is on Driftmark, at High Tide."
Alysanne exhaled loudly with immense relief, placing a trembling hand upon her chest where her heart was churning.
"Oh, praise the Seven! They found the dragon! But why then are you so dark and wrathful, Jaehaerys? Is this not wonderful news? The dragon is found, no one is harmed, our daughter is entirely safe!"
"That the dragon is found is well," the King answered sternly, rising from his chair and stepping toward the window overlooking the waters of Blackwater Bay. "Yet it would have been far better for all Westeros and for our House had Dreamfyre never departed for that cursed island at all."
"What speak you of? I understand you not," Alysanne frowned in confusion.
Jaehaerys turned sharply to her, clutching the crumpled scroll in his fist.
"According to the letter sent by Lord Corlys, Dreamfyre did not merely fly to his island. Viserra has become her rider. She claimed her and mounted her."
The Queen froze on the spot as though struck by thunder. Her eyes opened wide in shock.
"What?... Viserra... claimed Dreamfyre? But how?! How is that even possible? Dreamfyre spent years in the Dragonpit after Rhaena's death and yielded to no one, ever!"
"I know not how precisely our willful daughter succeeded," Jaehaerys said darkly, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury. "And that is precisely why I summoned Aemon and Baelon. As soon as their dragons have rested, they shall depart immediately for High Tide to ascertain all the details of this madness and bring Viserra together with her husband Corlys here to the capital, for our judgment."
Alysanne stepped close to her husband, still genuinely failing to grasp the reason for his so fiercely ignited wrath.
"But Jaehaerys, why are you so wrathful with your own daughter? I know you forbade her from meddling with a dragon, but it was Dreamfyre who flew to her island, and we know not under what circumstances she mounted the dragon."
"You don't understand me, Alysanne! As ever, you look upon this as a mother, not as a Queen! This bodes ill, Alysanne! Very ill indeed!" Jaehaerys struck the oaken table with his fist so hard that the tableware chimed mournfully. "A dragon... a vast, ancient war dragon now belongs to another family! She is no longer under the control of the Iron Throne and the Targaryens!"
"What 'other family,' Jaehaerys?!" the Queen protested in genuine indignation, throwing up her hands. "Viserra is our own daughter! Our blood and flesh!"
"Viserra is now a lady of House Velaryon!" cut in the King, his voice ringing like steel. "She is the wife of Corlys Velaryon and the mother of the future lords of High Tide! Sooner or later, wittingly or no, beneath the influence of her husband, she shall begin favoring the future of her children and her husband's House over House Targaryen on the Iron Throne!"
Jaehaerys began pacing the hall nervously from side to side, giving voice to his worst fears:
"Hitherto, the Velaryons, while ruling over a mere small island, surpassed in wealth nearly all the paramount lords of Westeros, save for the Lannisters - and even then, gods be my witness, Corlys with his endless merchant fleets shall soon outstrip Casterly Rock and their gold mines to boot! And now... Now the Velaryons possess a full-grown, lethal dragon! That affords them incredible martial power exceeding any other Great House! It shall utterly shatter the already fragile balance of power I have spent decades building in Westeros! The lords of the realm shall see that the Targaryens are no longer the sole possessors of dragonfire! That is deadly dangerous to the stability of the realm!"
Alysanne frowned heavily, categorically disagreeing with her husband's dark prophecies and suspicions. She stepped toward him, firmly took his clenched fists in her hands, forcing him to halt and look at her.
"Jaehaerys, you are painting dark pictures again, surrendering to anxiety, and seeing enemies where none exist! We enjoy splendid relations with the Velaryons! Corlys is a noble, loyal, and intelligent man. The marriage of Corlys and Viserra has strengthened our ties. And in time... when the time comes, we may wed Viserra's children to the children of Rhaenys and Viserys!"
Alysanne laid special emphasis upon this proposal, squeezing his fingers:
"For you yourself have already virtually granted your royal assent to the future wedding between Rhaenys and Viserys! That marriage shall unite the lines of our two eldest sons, Aemon and Baelon. And then, in the next generation, we shall once more bind this tie with the Velaryons through Viserra's children and the children of Rhaenys! All the dragons and all the blood shall meet again!"
Jaehaerys sharply yanked his hands away and turned back to the window, stubbornly shaking his head.
"Grant the Velaryons a royal marriage two generations in succession?!" his voice sounded hard and unyielding. "Do you realize how that will appear in the eyes of the other paramount lords of Westeros? The Lannisters, the Baratheons, the Tyrells, the Arryns, the Starks... They will deem House Velaryon co-rulers of Westeros! It will elevate them far too high, making them near equal to monarchs! And I like that not one bit. You know full well, Alysanne, how I view the ambitions of the Velaryons after all our uncle wrought! I have not forgotten past slights, treasons, and blunders!"
Alysanne looked sternly at her husband without a trace of her usual softness, and in her gaze flashed that same steel she shared with her husband only in the most critical moments of their life together.
"Jaehaerys, you are the King! And you must rise above old personal slights! Do not dare make dangerous foes of loyal friends and your own kin out of mere pride, suspicion, and ghosts of the past! Corlys Velaryon is our ally now, and the husband of our daughter - and all your old grudges ought to have been buried once and for all with the death of Uncle Daemon!"
She took a deep breath, seeing that the argument had reached an impasse, and softened her tone slightly:
"We shall speak more on this later, Jaehaerys. Once Aemon and Baelon have brought Viserra and Corlys before us, and we hear them out, looking them in the eye."
Before the King could open his mouth to gainsay the Queen, the heavy oaken doors of the dining hall creaked open.
Upon the threshold stood his two eldest sons: Prince Aemon, Heir to Dragonstone, and Prince Baelon. Their faces bore the weight of extreme weariness after a sleepless night of searching, yet in their eyes read a steadfast readiness to serve the Crown.
Stepping into the chamber and bowing to his parents, Prince Aemon spoke:
"Father, Ser Ryam said you summoned us urgently. Has something happened? Is there any word for Dreamfyre?"
================================================================
A/N
Read ahead on P@treon!
• Navigator Tier: 4 advance chapters & images.
• Master of Ships Tier: 6 advance chapters & images.
[email protected]/MarcelVelaryon777
I'm deeply thankful for any support you choose to provide by joining my paid tiers. It truly makes a difference! A quick tip to save money: Please use a web browser to subscribe instead of the iOS app. Prices on the app are 30% higher due to Apple's commission, so subscribing via browser ensures you get the lowest possible rate!