Pre-Chapter A/N: Welcome to October, guys! Let's smash whatever goals we've set ourselves this year. 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.
XXXX- LAENOR VELARYON— 109 AC (BLOODSTONE)
"So what do we do now? We've won," Laena said, looking around the table. Daemon's absence was loud now that there was no impending battle to take our minds off of it. A Prince of the Blood had been killed under our watch.
"I shall fly Daemon's body to King's Landing on the morrow," Mother said, looking out the window. I felt Daemon was better off dead than alive as far as my interests were concerned, but I had been the only one who'd thought that.
For all his carelessness and the fact that he had conspired to steal her throne, he was Mother's cousin still. It probably said something about her that she never held a grudge against Daemon and Viserys for pushing their claim at the Great Council. All her rage had been left for the Lords who hadn't supported her rather than those who had won. It was healthy in its own way.
But it did mean she was now mourning a man who did not deserve even a second of her consideration.
"And the two of you will come with me. It is time you be introduced at Court, and it will seem disrespectful for House Velaryon to not show their respects to the fullest extent."
"But we have so much to do here. What if the Triarchy attacks again?" I asked.
"We just burned near three hundred ships between them and Dorne. The war will still be here when we return, Laenor. If they want to attack, they will find themselves faced with a much bolstered Velaryon fleet. How many ships did you say you succeeded in capturing again?"
"Fifty-five," I admitted.
"Good. So trust in our fleet to keep our interests safe. We must do this. There will already be questions asked about his demise; it is best if we are on hand to answer them as best we can," she said. I nodded. I could see her point at least, but it felt weird to leave things the way they were here. We hadn't concluded things, hadn't forged the Stepstones into an Empire, and I would be leaving.
"Yes, Mother," Laena said. Rhaenys turned to me expectantly, and I nodded as well.
"Good, now call Ser Ben in. It's time we get our stories straight. Expect that we will be questioned separately and together on different parts of the story. We must make sure it is all beyond question," she said.
"And Pate's body? Is there a need to bring it with us as well?" I asked. Maybe it would matter somewhat to Viserys.
"Viserys is not a man that takes joy in gore. He will be fine with the knowledge that the person who did it is dead and the testimony of the maester to that effect," she said, and I would take her word for that. If I were the one, I would want a head at the very least, but she knew Viserys better than I did.
"Then it's settled, I guess," I said, wanting the meeting to be over so I could get about plotting in my own ways. The Capital. I wasn't ashamed to say that I was wary. It was a den of snakes that ate even royalty alive if they weren't careful. And I wasn't royalty. I was someone who had aimed for the king, and I had missed. Now his brother was dead, and we were going to tell him that it had happened under our watch but we weren't responsible.
Needless to say, I would have to be completely insane not to see the potential for things to go wrong—very wrong. Left to me, I would only ever enter the capital with a crown on my brow and a Kingdom at my back. Instead, we would enter on dragons, yes. But dragons that would definitely be stabled in the Dragonpit. If Viserys or anyone else wanted to get rid of the threat House Velaryon could pose in the future, then that would be the time.
And there was no point mentioning it, because Mother had already thought about it most definitely. It was possible that her entire plan hinged on us essentially delivering ourselves into Viserys's hands and trusting that his mercy—or would it be cowardice in this case—would see us leave unscathed. Then the capitulation would be taken as a sign of innocence on our part. Surely if we had killed a Prince of the blood, then we wouldn't have delivered our entire dragon-riding population into his hands.
But then again, it was possible that we did it and were doing this to shift suspicion to someone else. Sure, we could stay away, but that did nothing but ensure that everyone suspected us. By doing this now, we could hope to stave off any suspicions before they could take flight and mutate beyond control (and reason). It was a headache and a half thinking about it, so I just nodded and about-turned to go get Ser Ben.
—
"So the story, just to be completely sure, is that we were having a planning session—you, I, and Daemon—and that was when he was poisoned. Laenor had been exhausted from an earlier patrol and so went to bed earlier. When he was poisoned, we rushed for help, but there was sadly nothing anyone could do. The poison did its work, the Prince died, and that was it?" Laena summarized after Rhaenys spent close to an hour explaining to everyone what we had been doing in the story.
"Perfect, Laena. Now, Laenor, you assure me that Maester Bernard will cooperate with this story. It would be highly perverse for us to be telling a story before the realm while our Maester reports another."
"Yes, Mother. Bernard and I have come to an… arrangement," I said, and Ben snorted from the side. Perhaps making the man watch Igneel roast and eat a goat had been a tad bit much, but it had driven the message home at the very least.
"Tell me about it," she said, tone suspicious, and I began the tale of how exactly I had threatened our Maester into subservience.
—
Funeral rites could be fascinating things, I thought. They said a lot about what a culture valued. This was not the first time I was thinking about it. House Velaryon's funerals were supposed to signify that we were sailors first and foremost. We had salt and sea in our blood even more than the dreaded Ironborn did. We just didn't make as much noise about it, until it mattered. Targaryen funerals were modeled after Valyrian funeral customs as much as they could be, however, with a distinctly Andal twist to represent the capitulation of the House to the Faith of the Seven.
Well, no Targaryen would use the word capitulation. They would prefer terms like influence, mutual blending of culture, things like that. But I could see it simply, and this particular dead man had been able to see it just as simply in his own ways. I guessed for his soul's peace of mind, it was a good thing we were yet to return to Westeros.
The body had not decayed a bit. Nearly a week since he had died, and he looked much the same. There was a smell to it, but that was the only sign, beyond the stillness of his person and the pallor of his skin, that he had departed this plane. Mother had the body brought outside before us. And she presented it to Caraxes.
"What if the Blood Wyrm just sets it on fire? I don't think the King will be much pleased," Ser Ben whispered to me, uncharacteristically curious.
"Rarely happens. The Dragons know better. They've known better for centuries. It used to be customary for the body of a fallen warrior to be presented to their dragon before being taken back to Valyria. Well, that was something from the Ghiscari wars most likely, since we don't have accounts of dragon riders dying in combat or battle en masse beyond that period. Since he's seen the body now, we should be able to fly straight back to King's Landing, and Caraxes will follow. He will follow that body as best he can until it is destroyed. In Valyria, after that, the closest relative to the fallen dragon rider would try to bond the dragon," I said.
"Oh," he said, and I realized I'd given him an exposition dump when he had probably just intended to tell me a joke. Oops. I turned to the side, seeking out Laena.
"He's been a right old arse to me whenever I tried getting close to feed him or anything. Weird that he's, dare I say it, docile around Mother," she said, and I near chuckled.
"Caraxes was her father's dragon, sister. Of course he's behaving himself."
"Oh. I forgot that even. He and Daemon had matched each other so fully I can't even think about him having been anyone else's," she said, and that was true. From everything Rhaenys told us about the man that had birthed her, he and Daemon had been as close to polar opposites as you could get.
"Good point," I said.
"But ugh. I can't believe he claimed her Father's dragon. What an arsehole," she said.
"In Daemon's defense, mother claimed his own mother's dragon," I replied.
"So it was revenge?"
"Or it could have just been family tradition. Not like Valyrians leave dragons within individual bloodlines all that often. Taking a dragon from another Freehold House would have been a big no-no, but it was less the case with people from the same House," I said.
"Oh."
"That does make me think about something."
"What?"
"You and Vhagar get on well, don't you?"
"We're peas in a pod, birds of a feather, apples from the same tree, all that stuff," she said with a smile.
"I agree. But does that mean you are similar to Visenya? Or Uncle Baelon? Or is it Vhagar whose personality has changed? The dragons claim us just as much as we claim them, so is it a personality thing? Did Vhagar allow you to ride her because she judged you as similar to her other riders? If that is the case, then what could it say about the King who rode Balerion before it died?" I asked, feeling my curiosity rise as more and more questions came to mind. What about Igneel and I? Igneel would most definitely outlive me. In fact, the only way that wouldn't happen would be if something went catastrophically wrong.
In that case then, would he hold off on bonding until he met someone just like me? Or would he bond with anyone and then have their traits influence him? I refused to believe Hugh Hammer had anything in common with the Wise King Jaehaerys. While I had my issues with him in this life and his failure to back Mother's claim, he still remained my second favorite king from canon. Second only to Daeron the Young Dragon, of course.
"Heh. I guess the dragon changes between riders. I don't think I've changed much since I first rode Vhagar, but I do know that she is much more patient these days than she used to be. Also far more tolerant of strangers and whatnot. That has to have come from me—my traits bleeding into her," she said after tilting her head to the side.
"You think it's a one-way bond?" I asked.
"It can't be, can it? They're so much more powerful than we are. And while you could make arguments about their intelligence, you'd be wrong about their personalities. They have strong personalities in their own ways."
"I agree. You probably can't tell how Vhagar might have influenced you because of how young you were when she chose you. How do we differentiate between the changes caused by aging and those caused by the bond?" I asked.
"We can't."
"Just as we can't tell anything from Igneel and I. We're basically the same age and spent all of that time being inseparable. If we wanted a way to check, we would have an adult bond a dragon and then watch how their personality changes afterwards," I said.
"So what you are saying is that we can't find out."
"Not every question gets answered. That's just how the world works sometimes, Sister," I said. She nodded, and we turned to find that Caraxes had stopped sniffing the body and had taken a step back.
"Time," Mother called out. I moved towards Igneel, preparing to help Ben get onto the saddle.
"Wouldn't it be better if he rode with me for such a long journey?" I heard Laena's voice.
"Huh?"
"I don't know if Igneel can deal with all that weight, I mean," she said.
I looked over at her before I turned back to my growling dragon. "Ignore her. She's just trying to poke us so we agree to racing her there."
"No racing, children," Mother's voice rang out from where she was attaching a few things to Meleys' saddle. I doubted she'd heard all I'd said. Her ears had probably just perked up at the word 'racing', and that was it.
I climbed Igneel's back and then helped Ben do the same.
"Follow me and Meleys," she said, as if we hadn't already agreed to do that. Still, I nodded and I noticed Laena doing the same from Vhagar's back.
XXXXXXXX-
We reached the Capital City of Westeros at what had to be close to midday. The sun was high in the sky, bathing everything below it with its scorching rays. I turned to the person behind me to see that he had just about begun nodding off to sleep again. I couldn't blame him. While the first few minutes of the journey—particularly Igneel's unique form of takeoff—had been exhilarating, we had very quickly begun to do naught but maintain a steady altitude and speed.
Long journeys on dragonback were far from entertaining, I had learned. I'd probably have to look into getting some books or something specially bound so as to be able to withstand the winds, so I could read instead of just spending the time thinking. That had been well enough for this time since there was a lot of thinking to be done. This was going to be my introduction to the wider nobility of Westeros, and I had to make sure I'd thought things through as best I could, and all that thinking had led me to come to a single conclusion—let Mother take the lead.
She was the one who these people already knew. And the risks of me doing something wrong and worsening my position were not worth whatever possible reputational gain there was in conducting my own affairs. Being the subject of a regency, no one would expect me to do all that much, so why take the risk of proving them wrong when I lost nothing by proving them right?
I closed my eyes and breathed in the air of the skies. The fresh air, untouched by humans. It smelled of the sea, almost paradoxically. The sky was darkened by what had to be rain clouds gathering. This was a pure realm in a lot of ways—this sky we flew through. Only birds and dragons could come here—well, and us. A special privilege we shared with our mounts. I had no idea if the city would smell as bad as it was famed to be by the time canon rolled around. I didn't think it likely, considering there was a much smaller population here than there would be at that time, and we weren't that far from Jaehaerys' reign. He wouldn't have ruled over a smelly city, I thought. So we dove down, reducing our altitude as we flew around the city in circles. This way we would not cause any alarm by suddenly appearing or anything like that. The city would have time to spot our dragons and, consequently, the time to prepare for our arrival.
Vhagar let out a roar that shook me to my bones, reminding me that she was behind me and probably startling quite a few people in the city proper. When we were just a bit above the Red Keep in altitude, Meleys let out a roar that served as our signal. Vhagar and Igneel were to wait in the air while she landed. Chances were that Meleys was going to be the only one allowed to roost in the Keep proper while the rest of us would keep our dragons in the pit. She landed in a massive courtyard, and I watched as she dismounted Meleys—so gracefully that she made it look like an art form. And then she stepped forward while some messenger ran into the castle.
It took what felt like five minutes for Viserys to arrive. Through Igneel's eyes, he was huffing and puffing, a light sheen on his forehead. He looked… Kingly was not the right word, but I could see why people had bent the knee to this man. When he had shied away from verbally facing me in Harrenhal, he had been a boy in truth. A man in body with the mannerisms of a boy. All that was gone now. The way he stepped into the courtyard and practically ferried Rhaenys into his arms despite her protests. The way he spoke over her, taking over the situation and giving orders in every which direction. It made it all the more jarring when Rhaenys' words finally hit him. When he looked over to Caraxes in the air and noticed the lack of a rider. When Meleys dropped her cargo on the floor and stepped back.
In that red and gold shroud lay his brother, and Viserys wasted no time in going to confirm. I almost looked away once he did. To see the way the grief cloaked him. It reduced and shrunk him. It turned him from a King into that boy from years past, and it felt like the world itself was mourning with him. Clouds began to thicken, and before the hour was up, the skies of King's Landing wept with her King.
A/N: So here we get Viserys finding out about Daemon's death, and the beginning of the King's Landing arc with it. Expect this one to be a bit of a shorter arc. I'd ideally imagine about two-three chippies, or even less. That won't round out everything, but Laenor's place in it most likely. 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.