90 AC, Driftmark
The heavy oak doors of Corlys Velaryon's solar closed behind them with a dull click, shutting out the castle's outside noise. Now only two men remained in the chamber: the Lord of High Tide and King Jaehaerys himself. None of the servants, guards, or Kingsguard dared cross that threshold without a direct order. The atmosphere changed at once, growing heavier.
Corlys walked silently to a small carved table of dark walnut, where two glass goblets and a decanter of red wine stood waiting. He carefully filled both cups with the thick, dark drink, giving the king a moment to look about and settle into the difficult conversation ahead. Jaehaerys I Targaryen approached unhurried the high-backed chair standing by the hearth, and sighed sadly as he rested his palms on its wooden arms. The years of his reign and the weight of endless affairs of state had left their mark upon his face, yet the gaze of his violet eyes remained as sharp and piercing as it had been in the days of his youth.
Taking the filled goblet from his host's hands, the king took a small sip and spoke with genuine, if somewhat weary, warmth:
"My daughter has given you a truly fine, strong, and healthy boy. When I looked at him, I could not help but remember what it was like when Aemon and Baelon were born to me."
Corlys allowed himself a soft smile for a moment, one that only briefly softened his stern features. He moved to his desk but did not sit, remaining standing, leaning slightly against its edge and holding his goblet.
"This event has been a true blessing for me, Your Grace," the Sea Snake answered with deep feeling, looking at the king through the clear rim of his cup. "I am truly glad to have finally become a father. This child is my legacy, the one who will carry on the work begun by myself and my brothers. But tell me, Your Grace, as a man who has raised so many children and guided them through the path to adulthood - might you have some wise counsel for me? How does one properly raise a son so that he becomes a man worthy of respect?"
Jaehaerys fell into thoughtful silence for a moment, lifting his gaze to his host, as scenes of years lived flashed before his eyes - a life filled with both the joys of fatherhood and bitter, irreplaceable losses. He took another small sip of wine, savoring its sweet aftertaste, and said slowly:
"The most important thing a father must learn where his children are concerned, Corlys, is to say no to them promptly and without hesitation. Trust my many years of experience: if you master that art, the rest will come naturally with proper upbringing. Children must feel boundaries, or they will inevitably lose all semblance of decency."
The king lowered his gaze, and for a moment his voice lost its former confidence, growing quieter. A deep, unhealed wound of the soul slipped through - one that in King's Landing people took care not to mention.
"Though, in all honesty, I myself have not always followed this rule," Jaehaerys added quietly, frowning and tightening his fingers on the stem of his goblet. "In raising Saera, I allowed myself an unforgivable weakness. I spoiled her too much, forgave her things that should never have been forgiven, and in the end it led to catastrophe. Because of my own softness and indulgence, I was forced to do the most terrible thing a parent can do - to disown my own daughter entirely and strike her from my life."
Corlys listened to the king attentively, catching the pain that had slipped for a moment into the monarch's words. Being a wise and far-sighted man, Lord Velaryon understood perfectly how painful and heavy this subject was for Jaehaerys, and how deeply the memory of Saera still troubled the king even after so many years. Corlys decided not to press further into this matter, not to reopen old wounds or ask unnecessary questions that might only worsen his guest's mood.
"I am grateful to you for your candor, Your Grace," Corlys replied in an even, respectful tone, inclining his head slightly in a sign of respect. "I will certainly keep your counsel in mind and try not to make such mistakes in raising my son and any future children."
Jaehaerys took another substantial sip from his goblet, set it down on its delicate stand, and slowly straightened. His bearing changed at once - the softness of a father's memories gave way to the cold calculation of an experienced ruler. He looked into Corlys's eyes with a stern, heavy gaze, one in which there was no longer any room for familial pleasantries.
"Well then, Corlys," the king said, and a metallic edge crept into his voice. "You understand perfectly well why the two of us are here now, face to face, without witnesses, lords, or members of the Small Council. You understand the true reason for this conversation?"
Corlys did not look away. He fixed his full attention on the king, and his face instantly lost every trace of its former warm smile, becoming utterly serious, unreadable, and composed, as though before the start of a decisive battle.
"Daemon," Lord Velaryon said clearly and without hesitation.
"Just so, Daemon," Jaehaerys nodded, stepping forward and setting his goblet on the table. "Or rather, Daemon's dragon - the one that hatched on the very day of his birth, from an egg that came from who knows where. An egg whose existence no one even suspected, not on Dragonstone, and not in the capital."
Corlys paused for a moment, weighing every word before answering. The matter of dragon eggs had always remained the most closely guarded secret of the Valyrian houses, and any surprises on that front understandably alarmed the Targaryens.
"Even I still do not fully understand how Dreamfire managed to lay that egg, Your Grace," Corlys said with restraint, spreading his hands in a calm, open gesture. "Unfortunately, to this day we have no reliable understanding of the true nature of dragons. Perhaps female dragons are capable of laying eggs on their own, without the direct involvement of a male. To our great misfortune, all reliable and precise knowledge on this matter was lost forever on that fateful day when ancient Valyria fell and its most guarded secrets burned in the Doom."
Jaehaerys knit his heavy brows and shook his head in vexation, waving aside the Lord of High Tide's scholarly musings.
"It no longer matters in the least where that egg came from or what its true nature was," the king cut off his reasoning firmly. "What matters, and what troubles me most, is something else entirely: Daemon, who is only a few days old, is already bound irrevocably to a living dragon."
"And I take it, Your Grace, that in your eyes this poses a serious problem for the royal family?" Corlys asked, his tone direct and firm, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Corlys, you yourself must understand full well that this is not merely a problem, but a tremendous threat to the established order," Jaehaerys answered without evasion, taking another step toward the master of the solar. "Dragons are the very foundation of the royal family's power, our greatest advantage, and the absolute monopoly of House Targaryen. The appearance of a dragon bonded to a child bearing the name Velaryon disturbs the balance that Westeros has grown accustomed to."
Corlys allowed a pause, letting the king's words dissolve into the silence of the chamber, before asking directly:
"And precisely how does the king intend to resolve this problem?"
Jaehaerys stopped in front of Corlys. His gaze grew complicated, weighed down by heavy deliberation, in which the necessities of state struggled against the bonds of family.
"Kill the dragon, which is a sacred symbol of my own house and the embodiment of our ancient blood - that I cannot and will not do," the king said slowly, thinking aloud. Then he paused and looked Corlys directly in the eye, with a particular, searching weight. "Some of my councilors in the capital, were they to learn of this, would not hesitate to advise me simply to take the dragon from Daemon. To lock it away in the Dragonpit, or move it to Dragonstone, while the child is still too young."
Hearing this suggestion, Corlys's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his goblet. His voice remained even, but there was an unyielding firmness in it now - the firmness of a father prepared to defend his son to the very end.
"I often speak with Viserra about her mental and spiritual bond with Dreamfire, Your Grace," Lord Velaryon said, lowering his tone but making it weigh all the heavier. "Through these conversations I have come to understand well that a rider and their dragon are bound on a far deeper level, one beyond the understanding of ordinary people. I understand perfectly well what it means to have a dragon, and I understand fully what such a decision could do to my son. To hold this sacred bond from the moment of birth, and at the same time be denied even the sight of one's own dragon... If Daemon's dragon were now to be forcibly taken from him, it would be no different than cutting out a piece of his very soul. I will never allow my son to suffer so, out of political apprehension."
At these words Jaehaerys's face changed at once. The king straightened sharply, and a dangerous, commanding fire flared in his eyes - one befitting a true rider of Vermithor.
"All dragons without exception belong to House Targaryen!" the king declared, his tone stern and brooking no argument. "And only House Targaryen holds the lawful right to determine their fate and decide to whom they shall belong!"
Corlys did not retreat a single step. He met the king's angry outburst with the full composure of a man who stood behind the entire financial and military might of House Velaryon.
"Dragons do indeed belong to House Targaryen, as a bloodline," Corlys countered quietly, but with unmistakable clarity. "But this particular hatchling belongs to Daemon Velaryon. Just as Daemon himself now belongs to this dragon. And the belief that a man can wholly master a dragon and rule over it as a master over a slave is nothing more than a beautiful, convenient illusion. An illusion crafted specifically so that the other lords and people of Westeros might believe wholeheartedly that the royal family holds absolute and unquestionable power over these magnificent creatures."
Jaehaerys narrowed his eyes, and such silence fell over the solar that one could hear only the heavy curtains stirring in the light breeze.
"That is a very dangerous statement, Corlys," the king said in warning.
"You yourself have just called it a dangerous statement, Your Grace" the Sea Snake parried, entirely unshaken. "But you have not called it a false one."
A long, tense silence settled between them after these words. The king and the Lord of High Tide locked eyes on one another, like two seasoned commanders before the start of a decisive battle. Jaehaerys studied the man standing before him closely. From the height of his long reign, the king had grown accustomed to seeing every manner of emotion in the eyes of the lords of Westeros - from loyal adoration and flattery to hidden envy and animal fear. Yet there was not a trace of fear in the gaze of Corlys Velaryon. What could be read there was caution, restraint, sincere respect for the king's accomplishments - but not the slightest willingness to bend the knee blindly before the crown.
Jaehaerys found himself, despite everything, filled with respect for this iron character of the Lord of the Tides. Corlys looked at him as an equal looks upon an equal - as a master of the seas looks upon the master of the Seven Kingdoms.
"If Daemon were not bound to your family by blood, Your Grace," Corlys said, breaking the silence first, setting his goblet carefully upon the table, "then the crown would indeed have good reason to fear the rise of House Velaryon. But my son is your own grandson. Your blood runs in his veins."
"If Daemon were not my grandson, Corlys," Jaehaerys answered dryly, without the faintest trace of irony, "then this conversation between us would never have taken place at all. The dragon would have been seized or destroyed within the hour, and High Tide would have felt the full weight of royal wrath for its defiance."
Corlys took up his goblet again, looked at the king over its clear rim, took a slow, unhurried sip of wine, and gave a slight nod as he seated himself in the chair across from the king.
"Well then, since today we are speaking honestly and without pretense, I too shall be entirely honest with you," the Sea Snake said, his voice measured and confident. "House Velaryon has never been, nor is it now, an enemy of the royal family. On the contrary, we are your most steadfast and closest allies, bound by strong ties through my marriage to Viserra. But even had that marriage never taken place, we still would never have become your enemies. Each of our houses would simply have gone on living its own life. The Targaryens would have continued to ignore us entirely, as happened during the reign of my grandfather Daemon. And I, as Lord of High Tide, would simply have gone on faithfully sending the crown's due share of taxes to the capital, and everyone would have been perfectly content."
Jaehaerys, genuinely startled by such bluntness and, in truth, outright boldness from his Master of Ships, raised an eyebrow slightly and said with bewilderment:
"The Velaryons were never ignored, Corlys. You have always stood close to the throne."
"I thought we had tacitly agreed to speak only the truth, Your Grace," Corlys interrupted calmly, shaking his head slightly. "A king should not stay silent about what we both know and remember perfectly well."
Corlys paused briefly, allowing the king to reflect on what had been said, then continued speaking with confidence:
"You have always disliked my grandfather Daemon, simply because during the cruel reign of Maegor, he served him."
At the mere mention of Maegor the Cruel's name, Jaehaerys's face changed noticeably. The king sighed heavily and painfully, his fingers unconsciously clenching into a fist. It was plain to see that even the simple utterance of his tyrant uncle's name still stirred deep irritation, bitterness, and unpleasant memories of the bloody horrors of his youth.
Jaehaerys looked at Corlys in silence for a while, as though weighing whether to dispute the point, but then slowly nodded, conceding his companion's rightness.
"Perhaps that is indeed so," the king ground out reluctantly, his voice hardening. "Daemon, who was my uncle, served a man who brutally murdered my own brothers and repeatedly and cruelly forced himself upon my sister Rhaena. And it was your very own grandfather Daemon who personally advised Maegor to marry Rhaena, thereby condemning her to that hell. How, in your view, was I supposed to feel toward him after that?"
"Yes, that is true," Corlys confirmed without the slightest hesitation. "It was indeed my grandfather who advised Maegor to take Princess Rhaena as his wife. But have you ever considered, Your Grace, the true reason he advised him to choose her specifically?"
Jaehaerys frowned slightly, genuine confusion flickering across his gaze.
"What are you talking about? What is that supposed to mean?" the king asked, restraining his emotions.
"My grandfather served Maegor just as hundreds of other lords of Westeros did," Corlys began to explain in detail, taking another sip of wine. "He was neither a madman nor a fool, to openly defy the rider of Balerion the Black Dread himself, when that man destroyed anyone who stood in his path. But as for his counsel regarding the marriage to Rhaena... Tell me, Your Grace, did you know that at that time Maegor was seriously intending to execute your mother, Alyssa Velaryon?"
The king said nothing in response to this unexpected claim. He only pressed his lips together more tightly, his violet eyes fixed upon Lord Velaryon's face.
"My grandfather happened to learn of Maegor's planned order," Corlys went on, laying bare the truth. "And that is precisely why he immediately proposed Rhaena to him as a new bride. My grandfather understood the psychology of a tyrant perfectly well: in such a case, Maegor could not, in good conscience, kill the mother of his own future lawful wife. One can say endless terrible things about Maegor - that he was monstrously cruel, that he spilled seas of blood, that he was utterly mad. But he was never foolish enough to openly murder the mother of his own wife, and thereby completely undermine the legitimacy of his rule before the lords of Westeros."
Jaehaerys froze for a moment, absorbing what he had heard. This chapter of his family's history had always seemed clear and unambiguous to him, and now Corlys's revelation forced him to view those long-past events from an entirely different angle.
"How do you know all this?" the king asked quietly, but with unmistakable suspicion in his voice.
"My grandfather told me this story himself," Corlys answered evenly. "He wanted me to know the truth about those dark times. And, of course, the fact that Rhaena was a prominent member of that branch of House Targaryen which openly opposed Maegor also played a key role in his calculations. In the end, for many thousands of years, highborn families have resolved their bloodiest conflicts precisely through the marriage of two rival sides. Yes, we know it did the Brackens and Blackwoods no good whatsoever, but in the vast majority of cases this ancient approach works remarkably well. After all, surely you would agree, Your Grace - reasonable people who have become close kin are not likely to keep cutting each other down at the first opportunity? At any rate, that is usually how it works."
Corlys paused briefly, giving the king a moment to feel the full weight of his reasoning, and then concluded:
"What exactly am I driving at with all this, Your Grace? Simply that House Velaryon, beyond being your loyal ally and closest kin through my marriage to Viserra, has never once contemplated treachery. And though the fact that my son Daemon has bonded with his own dragon may seem quite unusual and unexpected, it carries no real danger or threat whatsoever to the unshakable authority of House Targaryen."
Jaehaerys sighed heavily, letting his gaze wander thoughtfully about the chamber, then slowly turned to face Corlys.
"In the entire long history of my house in Westeros, we have lost dragon eggs only once," the king said with deep bitterness. "When Elissa Farman treacherously stole three eggs from my sister Rhaena and secretly sold them in Braavos. The authorities and the Sealord of Braavos flatly denied having those three dragon eggs in their possession. But I knew for certain that they had them. And it was only because of the hypothetical threat that a dragon might hatch from those eggs on foreign soil that I openly threatened Braavos with utter devastation, telling them plainly that if even a single living dragon were to appear in Essos, Braavos would burn."
Corlys shook his head slightly, a faint, wry smile touching his lips.
"No dragon ever hatched in Braavos, Your Grace, not out of any panicked fear of war or dragonfire," Corlys countered calmly. "But purely from a plain lack of any suitable candidate with Valyrian blood to serve as a rider, and because they had no idea how to properly incubate and hatch a dragon in the first place."
Jaehaerys turned to him sharply, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you seriously suggesting, Corlys, that you doubt I truly would have gone to war against Braavos, had a dragon hatched there?"
"I do not doubt for a moment that you would have tried to do so, Your Grace," Corlys answered with genuine honesty, looking the ruler directly in the eye. "But I doubt very much that Braavos and the Iron Bank would have allowed you to live long enough to gather a fleet and give such orders."
The king frowned at once, his gaze turning fierce.
"And precisely how, in your view, would that have happened?"
"Braavos, and the Iron Bank, which for all practical purposes governs that city-state almost entirely through its colossal financial power, conduct their affairs in a highly particular but time-honed manner," Corlys began to explain in detail, folding his arms across his chest. "They gladly lend to the magisters of Essos, to trading princes, and even to certain lords of Westeros. But should their debtors ever refuse, or find themselves unable to repay what they owe the Iron Bank, the Bank responds quite simply: it generously finances their direct rivals, and lets those rivals' own hands rid it of unreliable clients. Or else they simply hire the Faceless Men, against whose blades and poisons no guard in the world can offer protection."
Corlys took a step toward the table and brought his point to its conclusion:
"What I am driving at with all this, Your Grace, is that Braavos would, in any case, have reaped its own colossal profit from the affair, and would simply have quietly disposed of any ruler it found troublesome or dangerous, long before that ruler's dragons ever took to the sky."
Jaehaerys stared at Corlys for several long seconds with undisguised displeasure and mounting anger.
"What you are saying so calmly right now, Corlys, borders on outright treason!" the king said loudly and demandingly. "You speak of your own king being killed with such ease!"
"My direct and foremost duty, as a member of your Small Council and as Lord of Driftmark, is always to tell my king nothing but the plain truth," Corlys declared, entirely unshaken by the king's anger. "Even when that truth displeases you greatly," the Sea Snake paused, then added with particular emphasis, "especially when that truth displeases you greatly, Your Grace."
The king stared long and unblinking at his Master of Ships. The anger in his eyes gradually gave way to deep, heavy contemplation. He understood that Corlys was not attempting to insult him or diminish his authority - the Lord of Driftmark was merely displaying that same sober pragmatism which had made him the continent's most extraordinary seafarer and its wealthiest man.
"Well then..." Jaehaerys said slowly, a faint, complicated smile touching his lips. "Since today we are speaking to one another with nothing but the truth, Corlys, I cannot help but notice one interesting detail myself. In the course of your distant voyages and trade wars, I have observed that the most peculiar things tend to happen to your own enemies and rivals with striking frequency. Things bearing a painful resemblance to the sad fate of the Iron Bank's failed debtors."
Corlys merely raised his goblet slightly and answered with a perfectly unreadable expression:
"I simply cannot help but admire the elegance and remarkable efficiency of Braavos's approach to resolving complicated matters of business, Your Grace."
Jaehaerys nodded silently to himself, weighing everything said over the course of the evening. The conversation, which had begun with the perilous matter of Daemon's dragon, had revealed something far more important: a deep mutual understanding between himself and Corlys, and the absence of any illusions regarding the politics and realities of Westeros.
At last, the king drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and, having reached his final decision, spoke in an even, calm tone.
"I never intended to bring any harm to Daemon's dragon. And still less do I intend to take it from my own grandson."
"I am truly glad to hear it, Your Grace," Corlys replied with barely perceptible relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"However, you must understand that I cannot simply leave this situation without the crown's proper oversight and attention," Jaehaerys continued at once, raising his hand. "Therefore, my decision is this: as soon as Daemon is a little older, he shall go to the capital. He shall become an official ward of House Targaryen and squire to my son Aemon. This will draw Daemon even closer to his mother's family, and you, as Master of Ships, who already spends the greater part of your time in King's Landing, will be able to watch over your son constantly, remain close to him, and take a personal hand in his training."
The king looked at Corlys with expectation and voiced a sincere hope:
"I sincerely hope that Daemon, under the joint guidance of his father and his uncle Aemon, will grow into a truly good lord, a skilled warrior, and a man worthy of respect."
Corlys fell into swift, intense deliberation. He weighed all the advantages and drawbacks of this proposal. On one hand, sending his son to King's Landing made him, in a sense, an honored guest of the crown. But on the other hand, the boy's tutor would be none other than Aemon himself, heir to the throne - a man of honor and an excellent warrior - and Corlys himself was, in any case, constantly in the capital on the duties of his office. Moreover, his own personal presence would guarantee Daemon the finest upbringing and protection at court.
"I understand your wish perfectly well, Your Grace," Corlys said thoughtfully. "You wish for Daemon to grow close to the Targaryens from an early age, and to see them, in his heart, as his own true family. I agree that my son shall go to the capital and become Aemon's squire. But I have one condition: this shall happen only once Daemon has reached the age of eight. Until then, he must grow up at home, entirely in his mother's care."
Jaehaerys considered this for a moment, then nodded with satisfaction:
"Eight years old... That is an entirely acceptable age. Consider it, then, that we have reached an agreement."
The king allowed a brief pause, and his face grew serious once more.
"But from this day forward, one more unbreakable rule shall govern relations between our two houses, Corlys," Jaehaerys declared sternly. "I cannot be entirely certain that Dreamfire will not, in time, lay yet more eggs, nor that they might not hatch just as easily for your future children or grandchildren. Therefore, from this day, the following law shall stand: should dragonriders arise among the Velaryons in the future, they shall be required to marry none but members of House Targaryen. No exceptions."
Corlys considered this demand for a moment. It did no injury to the honor of his house - quite the opposite, it secured, for centuries to come, a dynastic union between the Velaryons and the Targaryens, binding them together as, in effect, a single ruling dynasty.
"I accept these terms, Your Grace," the Lord of High Tide answered firmly. "It is a reasonable and just decision."
Jaehaerys smiled with genuine relief, settling more deeply into his chair, visibly weary.
"I am truly glad, Corlys, that we have managed to come to an agreement as wise men should," the king said, with a clear sense of relief.
"And I am glad, Your Grace, that we have managed to discuss all of this honestly and civilly, avoiding needless conflict, and have reached complete mutual understanding on so vital a matter," Corlys concluded sincerely, raising his goblet in a silent toast to the future of his son, and of the entire realm.
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A/N
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