92 AC. King's Landing
The townhouse that House Velaryon held in King's Landing was spacious enough to accommodate the whole of the large family that had come to the city on this occasion. In the great hall of the house, furnished with heavy carved furniture and adorned with seascapes upon the walls, there gathered that evening Corlys, Viserra, Corlys's mother Lady Alice, and his brothers, Daeron and Veylor.
Thea and Elise had remained behind at High Tide with their newborn daughters: neither Daeron nor Veylor had wished to subject their little girls to the long and wearying sea voyage to the capital, and the rest of the family, Lady Alice included, had fully supported that decision. Daemon and Victor, Corlys's own children, were likewise absent from the hall - at that hour, both boys were somewhere in the depths of the house, under the watch of nursemaids and servants, and every so often the muffled sound of Daemon's laughter, deep in some game or other, reached the gathered adults.
Lady Alice sat in a chair by the hearth, her hands folded in her lap, casting the occasional uneasy glance from one son to the other. More than a week had passed since Corlys's meeting with the king, and still no answer had come from Jaehaerys, and this prolonged silence had begun to weigh upon the entire family.
"I do not like this silence," Daeron said, pacing about the hall with a goblet of wine in hand, one he had, in truth, scarcely touched. "More than a week has passed since that meeting, and still the king has not sent for you, Corlys, to tell you his decision. I find myself growing ever more troubled by the thought that he has already resolved to refuse you, and is simply delaying, for whatever reason, in telling you so plainly."
"I do not think matters are quite so bleak, brother," Veylor countered, settled upon the wide couch beside Viserra. "The proposal Corlys made to the king is exceedingly advantageous to the crown. Consider it yourself: Jaehaerys need not spend a single gold dragon, nor commit a single ship or soldier, and in return he shall bring under the Seven Kingdoms an entire archipelago, one of vital importance both to Westerosi trade and to the security of the whole of the Narrow Sea. It is difficult to call such a bargain anything but favorable, whatever might be said of the king's slowness in deciding."
"All that I offered the king," Corlys remarked, standing at the window and gazing out at the evening lights of the city, "costs neither me nor our house nearly so much as it might appear from the outside. We already possess more than one blade of Valyrian steel, and gold enough to raise several great cities upon the Stepstones without undue difficulty, should the need arise. So for me and for our family, this venture represents no serious financial burden whatsoever, while for the crown the gain is considerable indeed. No other house in Westeros is capable of offering the Targaryens such terms."
"And yet the king delays," Lady Alice observed from her seat by the hearth, frowning slightly. "It is strange that a full week should pass with him still having reached no decision. King Jaehaerys is not, from what I have heard, generally given to such indecision in matters of state."
"The king should have no reasonable grounds to refuse me," Corlys said, turning from the window to face those gathered. "After my death, all these holdings shall pass into Daemon's keeping, and Daemon, lest anyone forget, is the king's own grandson. Were it not for my marriage to Viserra, I daresay the king might well have refused me out of nothing more than old ill will toward House Velaryon, but as matters now stand, such a refusal would simply be unreasonable of him, all things considered."
"I spoke with Rhaenys two days ago," Viserra put in, having until then listened to the conversation in silence. "From her I learned that Father discussed Corlys's proposal with Mother and with Aemon, and it would seem that both Mother and my brother are inclined to approve the bargain. But for some reason Father himself continues to delay his final decision, and even Rhaenys could not properly explain to me the cause of such a delay."
"Perhaps the king simply wishes to weigh everything carefully before binding himself to such obligations," Veylor suggested, shrugging. "After all, this is no trifling matter, but the fate of an entire archipelago."
"Perhaps you are right," Daeron agreed, though without any great conviction in his voice, "but such silence troubles me all the same. It has dragged on rather too long for a man who, by your own account, should have no cause to refuse," he finished, turning to Corlys.
Daeron pursued the matter no further, reasoning that further speculation aloud was unlikely to bring them any closer to understanding the king's true intentions, and chose instead to turn the conversation to a less troubling subject.
"Speaking of which, brothers," Daeron said, coming to a stop by the table and finally taking a sip of wine from his goblet, "tomorrow the tourney arranged by the king begins. By all accounts, nearly half of Westeros has come for it, including most of the Lord Paramounts and their own bannermen. Do you two mean to take part in the contests?"
"I have troubles enough of my own without adding to them by entertaining the nobility of Westeros with my own participation in such spectacles," Corlys answered, with a faint smile. "I already won my greatest tourney some years ago, when I crowned Viserra queen of love and beauty at the tourney held in honor of our wedding. Scarcely any other contest could hope to compare with that in significance."
At these words Viserra could not help a warm smile, recalling that day.
"I shall never forget that tourney," she said, looking at her husband with tenderness. "It remains, I think, one of the happiest memories of my life, and I doubt any other spectacle could ever eclipse it in my mind."
Daeron and Veylor exchanged a knowing glance, while Lady Alice, by the hearth, merely smiled quietly, watching this exchange of looks between her son and her good-daughter.
"Enough talk of business forever," Alice said, shifting slightly in her chair. "I heard from Rhaenys that Gael can scarcely wait to see Victor up close again. The girl seems, in all seriousness, to have decided she is elder sister to both your boys, Corlys."
"Gael is remarkably attached to our family, for a princess of her age," Viserra observed with a warm smile. "She is forever asking her mother to let her stay with us at Driftmark a while longer, though her mother is not always able to spare the time for it, given her other duties."
"Small wonder," Veylor said, with a faint smile of his own. "Many a child in Westeros would envy the chance to ride a dragon, and Gael, from what I have heard, has already flown more than once with Daemon upon Dreamfyre, under Viserra's own watchful eye."
"Three times," Corlys corrected him, smiling slightly. "And that only because Viserra insisted the girl ought, once in her life, to experience such a flight for herself, rather than content herself with mere tales of it."
They spent the whole of that evening in just this fashion, discussing pressing matters and teasing one another in turn, lending the gathering a warm and familial air.
The following day, the whole of House Velaryon arrived in full at the tourney grounds set up beyond the city walls for the occasion, and took their place in the box beside the royal family. The tourney had indeed drawn an extraordinary gathering of nobility from across all of Westeros: besides the Targaryens and Velaryons themselves, there were present the lords of the Westerlands, led by their Lord Paramount, Tymond Lannister, along with numerous lords of the Reach, the Riverlands, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, and a few representatives from the Vale. Among the Lord Paramounts, besides Lannister, Corlys noted Grover Tully, Martyn Tyrell, and Boremund Baratheon, each seated in his own box, surrounded by his closest bannermen.
The first day of the tourney opened with a melee, in which dozens of knights from across the realm took part, clashing against one another in a great disorderly contest fought with blunted weapons. After a long and grueling struggle, victory went to a seasoned warrior, brother to the current Lord of Griffin's Roost, Jon Connington, whose skill with a blade impressed even spectators well accustomed to such tourneys.
While the knights and squires prepared for the melee, merchants moved among the rows of boxes, offering the spectators sweets, wine, and all manner of trinkets bearing the arms of the tourney's competitors. The common folk, who had found no room upon the stands, crowded along the lists' outer fence, straining for even a glimpse of the proceedings, while heralds cried out again and again the names of the fighters entering the field. Watching this lively spectacle from the royal box, Corlys could not help but note to himself how such tourneys remained unchanged across the decades, whoever might happen, at any given moment, to sit upon the Iron Throne. Besides the melee, that same day also saw an archery contest, in which, to the surprise of many, victory went to a little-known archer in the service of House Lefford, whose name had, until that day, been all but unknown beyond the Westerlands.
By the day's end, the king himself rose to congratulate all the victors of the contests and to thank the other competitors for the valor they had shown, after which it was announced that the following day would open the joust proper - the true centerpiece of the whole celebration, for the sake of which most of this nobility had, in large part, gathered. As soon as the announcement was made, the spectators began gradually to disperse, and House Velaryon, together with the royal family, made their way back to the Red Keep, where a feast was to be held that evening, to which all the Lord Paramounts, House Velaryon, and the members of the Small Council had been invited.
The sun had already sunk fully below the horizon by the time the invited lords began gathering in the great hall of the Red Keep, taking the seats prepared for them beforehand. King Jaehaerys took his place at the head of the long table, and to his right sat his sons - Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon - with young Viserys Targaryen, the king's grandson through Baelon, seated between them. Further along that same side of the table sat Corlys, and beyond him his brothers, Daeron and Veylor, after whom sat the acting Master of Whisperers, Lord Gilbert Rosby. To the king's left sat the Hand of the King, Septon Barth, and beyond him, Boremund Baratheon, Tymond Lannister, the Master of Coin, Lord Martyn Tyrell, Manfred Hightower, and Grover Tully.
Across from the king, at the head of the opposite end of the table, sat Queen Alysanne, and beside her were seated Viserra, Corlys's mother Lady Alice, Princess Rhaenys, Prince Aemon's wife, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, along with the wives and sisters of the other lords present, who took their places further along that same side of the table.
Martyn Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, sat a little further along the same side of the table as Boremund and Tymond, deep in animated conversation with Grover Tully, while Manfred Hightower, known for his taciturn nature, took little part in the general talk, confining himself to the occasional brief remark. Corlys, taking in the arrangement of the guests, could not help but think that such a seating of the Lord Paramounts of the West, the Reach, and the Stormlands, together with the Lord of Oldtown, all at one end of the table, was unlikely to have been mere chance on the part of the feast's arrangers.
The feast proceeded in its usual course. The highborn guests spoke quietly among themselves of the affairs of the realm, servants appeared from the side doors again and again bearing new dishes, and cupbearers moved about the table, replacing emptied jugs with full ones and refilling the guests' cups as they ran dry. At first glance, this celebration differed in no way from the dozens of similar feasts held by the royal family to strengthen ties with the most influential lords of the Seven Kingdoms, and nothing, it seemed, foretold anything unusual that evening.
At some point, however, Tymond Lannister, by then noticeably flushed with the wine he had drunk, addressed the king with a question spoken somewhat more loudly than the proprieties of table conversation called for.
"Your Grace," the Lord Paramount of the West said, swaying slightly in his seat, "when, at long last, shall the Small Council meet to settle the matter of the Stepstones? I confess I have grown rather weary of waiting for that decision."
These words, spoken into the relative quiet, instantly drew the attention of everyone seated near enough to overhear them. Corlys noticed a flicker of clear displeasure cross the king's face at Lannister's having raised the matter at all, at table, before so many outside ears, and resolved not to let slip the chance to learn more, taking advantage of the fact that the wine had, by all appearances, already loosened Tymond's tongue.
"I confess, Lord Tymond, your lively interest in the Stepstones surprises me," Corlys said, addressing Lannister with a deliberately smooth and probing tone. "As I recall from earlier sessions of the council, those islands never before roused any noticeable curiosity in you. What, then, has changed since?"
Had Tymond Lannister been rather more sober, he would surely have seen the hidden trap in this seemingly innocent question and thought better of answering. But several cups of wine had done their work, and the Lord of the West, suspecting nothing amiss, answered readily, plainly pleased at the chance to share news he clearly considered a matter for satisfaction.
"How could I not take an interest in the Stepstones, Lord Corlys," he said, with a self-satisfied smile, "when His Grace has graciously offered myself, and Lords Tyrell, Baratheon, and Hightower besides, the islands of the archipelago as ancestral holdings once they are conquered? Naturally, I am now quite eager to know just when this campaign shall begin."
Corlys's gaze snapped at once to the king and his sons, seeking the faintest sign of discomfort upon their faces, while Viserra looked to her own mother in confusion, as though hoping to hear the words denied. Queen Alysanne, judging by the look upon her face, was plainly no less astonished than the rest, and from the bewildered look in Prince Aemon's eyes Corlys understood at once that he too was wholly ignorant of these dealings of his father's. The king himself, by contrast, looked upon Corlys as though nothing whatsoever unusual or improper had occurred.
"I was not aware Your Grace had already reached such a decision, without informing the Small Council of it at all," Corlys said, addressing the king and striving to keep his voice measured, though anger was already kindling within him. "I confess I had hoped that, before making so weighty a decision, you would at least grant me a conversation upon the matter, particularly given what I myself proposed to the crown regarding the Stepstones."
The king's answer came sharp and without the slightest hesitation, as though he had long anticipated just such a question.
"I am under no obligation whatsoever to discuss anything with you before reaching a decision, Lord Corlys," Jaehaerys said, a note of cold irritation entering his voice. "You serve me well and faithfully, that much cannot be denied you, but do not forget that you remain, after all, a servant of the crown. Yes, you are a capable and most industrious administrator, but you remain a servant of House Targaryen, and you would do well to remember it. I suspect that having a princess given to you in marriage, and your sons coming into dragons of their own, has led you mistakenly to imagine that I owe you some manner of consultation before I make my decisions. That is not so, and you would do well to remember your place, rather than laying such grievances before me at this table."
The king's words rang out so sharply and so unexpectedly that a heavy silence fell over the table at once. All those present, who had until then been speaking quietly among themselves, fell silent all together, turning their eyes upon the king and upon Corlys. Queen Alysanne looked at her husband with undisguised shock, understanding full well that such an insult, delivered publicly, at the feasting table, was unlikely to lead to anything good.
Corlys let his gaze travel slowly over those seated at the table, and noted how Tymond Lannister, Boremund Baratheon, and Manfred Hightower exchanged barely concealed smirks, looking upon him with poorly hidden satisfaction - by all appearances, the three of them were secretly delighted that this upstart from House Velaryon, as they no doubt saw him, had finally been put in his proper place. He then turned his gaze to his own brothers: both Daeron and Veylor were gripping their wine cups so tightly in barely restrained fury that it seemed the metal itself might buckle beneath their fingers before long. He looked to Viserra, who was gazing at her own father with poorly concealed rage, and then to his mother, in whose eyes he read a deep pain at the humiliation her son had been made to suffer before so many witnesses. Lady Alice, meeting Corlys's gaze, was plainly afraid of how he might respond to such an insult.
Corlys turned his gaze back to the king, and in that moment his expression shifted subtly. He looked at Jaehaerys with such fixed, cold intensity that it seemed, for him, no other soul remained in the entire hall. For one brief instant, in memories that still carried echoes of a life once lived, there flickered the image of another ruler, just as certain of his own impunity - an image long since become, for Corlys, a private measure of cold, calculated cruelty. Lady Alice, noticing this look upon her son's face and the sudden chill of resolve emanating from him, could only mouth silently, "Seven save us," beseeching them for their protection, and for greater patience to be granted her son.
Corlys lifted his goblet, took a small sip of wine, then unhurriedly spat it back into the cup and, with evident disdain, pushed the vessel toward the middle of the table.
"For a feast such as this, I should think something better than this swill might have been served," he said, with an air of studied indifference, as though remarking upon some wholly unrelated matter. "Though I suppose I should hardly be surprised."
He then pushed away his plate of food as well, wiping his lips carefully with his napkin.
"And the food here is rather bland, besides," he went on, in the same even tone. "It could do with a good deal more spice. A pity the cooks of the Red Keep are, by all appearances, not especially skilled at preparing anything truly worth eating - though how should I, a humble servant, know what suits the tastes of the highborn? I am, after all, but the plain ruler of one poor little island, how much could I possibly understand of such fine distinctions?"
He paused briefly, letting his gaze pass over the assembled company, then added, tilting his head slightly to one side, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.
"It is curious - only a few years ago, I recall, the king spoke to me rather differently. What does that say of the royal family itself, if its own head was once willing to marry off his own daughter to a mere servant?"
"Such words, and such conduct, insult the royal family, Lord Corlys," Jaehaerys said, poorly concealed anger entering his voice.
"Come now, Your Grace, am I truly capable of insulting my own wife?" Corlys returned, with feigned bewilderment. "Perhaps someone at this table has forgotten our history, but I do not forget such things. The Velaryons have always been servants of the Targaryens, just as the Targaryens themselves were once simple shepherds, who one day had the good fortune to tame a dragon."
At these words the King's Hand hastened to intervene.
"A seat at the king's table does not make you the equal of His Grace, Lord Corlys," Septon Barth said sternly. "And you have no right to address the king in such a manner, whatever your mood may be this evening."
"No one takes offense at the truth, Septon Barth, any more than I myself take offense at it," Corlys answered, unruffled. "For all forty houses of Valyria, before ever they became dragonriders, were nothing more than common shepherds, tending sheep upon the hills of the Valyrian peninsula. Or perhaps the maesters who once taught me lied to me on that point?"
Septon Barth found no answer to give, and merely pressed his lips together in silence, plainly displeased at such boldness but lacking any sufficiently weighty rejoinder at hand. In his stead, Boremund Baratheon, who had until then watched the exchange in silence, chose to enter the fray.
"I understand well enough that you wished to have the Stepstones for yourself alone, Lord Corlys," he said, with undisguised smugness in his voice. "But the king decided otherwise, and that is his lawful right as sovereign."
"I judged that the lord of a single island could not, alone, manage an entire chain of islands such as the Stepstones," Jaehaerys confirmed, straightening slightly in his seat. "That is why I made the decision I did, and I see no reason to justify it to you, Lord Corlys."
"I understand perfectly well, Your Grace," Corlys answered, with cold composure. "The Velaryons are no strangers to submitting to the will of House Targaryen. When, in Valyria, the Targaryens resolved to leave their homeland and settle in Westeros, the Velaryons followed them without the slightest hesitation. For the hundred years that followed, we served your house faithfully and well, and during King Aegon's conquest, the Velaryons were among the very first to take his side, shedding blood for his cause upon these very lands. But what happened once the war was won? When Storm's End fell, King Aegon gave that castle to his baseborn half-brother, Orys Baratheon."
Boremund Baratheon rose sharply from the table, his face darkening with fury.
"How dare you insult House Baratheon with such words!" he exclaimed, scarcely able to contain himself.
"And will you claim that you are not, in fact, descended from that very same bastard?" Corlys parried, unruffled, regarding the enraged lord without the slightest trace of fear.
"Why, I ought to - " Boremund growled, his self-control giving way entirely to fury.
Prince Aemon, seeing that the brewing quarrel threatened to become a true catastrophe for the whole feast, hastened to restrain his wife's brother, laying a hand upon his shoulder, but Boremund, inflamed by both wine and wounded pride, shook off the hand and continued to bore into Corlys with a furious glare.
"You ought to what?" Corlys asked, raising an eyebrow slightly in feigned curiosity. "What will you do, Lord Boremund? If you believe I have insulted your house and spoken falsely, then act as befits a lord and a man: challenge me to honest combat, and let the gods judge which of us speaks true. Though it would be a pity to kill our good Prince Aemon's own wife's brother over so trifling a matter."
"How dare you," Boremund ground out through his teeth, "do you truly think you could so easily best me, you worthless seahorse?"
"I would advise you, Lord Boremund, to choose your words rather more carefully," Corlys said, and for the first time that evening a note of genuine cold menace entered his voice. "Until now I have said nothing but the plain truth, and if that truth offends you, that is your concern, not mine. But I would advise you to hold your tongue henceforth, and not to insult me personally, for in that case I shall not answer for the consequences to you. Remind me, by the way, what is the words of your house? Ah yes, I recall now - 'Ours is the Fury.' Well then, an excess of fury tends, as a rule, to leave a man incapable of rational thought, and in the end, to cost him his head, figuratively speaking."
Boremund opened his mouth, plainly intent on continuing the quarrel, but at that moment the king sharply commanded him to sit, and the Lord of Storm's End, after a moment's hesitation, complied all the same, though not without evident displeasure upon his face. Corlys cast a quick glance at the king and thought to himself that Jaehaerys knew perfectly well what his own daughter's husband was capable of with a sword in hand, and had no wish, surely, to see Boremund, his own half-brother, cut down like a hog before half of Westeros.
"I would ask you to choose your words, Lord Corlys, and not to provoke my lords into such quarrels," the king said, addressing him in a tone of unmistakable displeasure.
"I have said nothing but the truth, Your Grace," Corlys answered, unmoved, and then, as though recalling a thought interrupted, went on: "Now, where was I? Ah yes - after the fall of the Stormlands, King Aegon went on to conquer the Riverlands, the Reach, and the Vale as well. How many castles and holdings did he then bestow upon his new vassals, who joined his cause only once they had understood their own powerlessness before dragonfire? The Riverlands went to House Tully, and the Reach to House Tyrell. The Velaryons, who shed blood for the Targaryen cause long before the rest of these houses ever learned of it, were never rewarded at all for their faithful service."
Corlys fell silent for a moment, letting his gaze pass over the now-quieted lords at the table, then brought his thought to its close with icy composure.
"And so, yes - the Velaryons know their true place perfectly well: we are servants, nothing more. And I shall make quite certain that my sons, Daemon and Victor, and any children yet to come, whom the gods may send us, remember and know their place well, Your Grace. Of that you may be entirely certain."
Queen Alysanne, seeing clearly that what was unfolding at the table was rapidly becoming a genuine catastrophe for relations between the crown and one of the realm's most powerful houses, tried to calm the situation somewhat.
"Corlys, please, do not let your temper carry you away so," she said, addressing him now in a tone that was nearly pleading. "I am certain my husband meant nothing ill by speaking as he did. Perhaps the wine has loosened everyone's tongues somewhat this evening."
"I understand perfectly well, Your Grace," Corlys answered, rising from the table with exaggerated, courteous calm, then turning to his younger brother. "Daeron, be so good as to see that our ship is made ready. We sail for home within the hour."
He then turned to Viserra, who had sat all this while beside her mother, watching the proceedings in silence with mounting anger.
"Viserra, see the children made ready to depart," he said in an even tone. "I think we ought not burden the royal family any further with our unwelcome presence at this table."
"That is not so at all," the queen protested hastily, plainly alarmed at this turn of events. "You and your children, Corlys, are always welcome at the Red Keep, and I am sorry that this evening should have given you any cause to doubt it."
"And yet you show that welcome in a rather peculiar fashion, Your Grace," Corlys observed coldly.
"I have given no leave for you to depart the capital," the king broke in, frowning.
At these words Viserra felt a fresh wave of anger toward her own father, so powerful that Dreamfyre, then within the Dragonpit, sensed her rider's mood and let out so loud and furious a roar that the very windows of the hall rattled in their frames.
"So far as I am aware, Father, we are not your prisoners," Viserra said, rising to her feet and standing beside her husband, an unaccustomed hardness entering her voice. "And if that is so, then we are free to leave this castle, and this city, whenever we ourselves see fit, and no one has the right to stand in our way."
Corlys asked his mother briefly to help Viserra gather the children's things for their swift departure, then turned once more to the king, his voice now stripped of its former mockery, level and hard.
"I shall take the Stepstones for you, Your Grace, since you have seen fit to dispose of those lands in this manner," he said. "But I would advise you to begin seeking a new Master of Ships without delay, for you may consider this evening's supper my declaration of resignation from that office."
With these words, Corlys, together with his brothers, Viserra, and his mother, turned and made for the doors of the hall, never once looking back at the guests left sitting in stunned silence at the table. Behind them, the queen, Princess Rhaenys, and Prince Aemon rose hastily and hurried after, plainly intent on halting the departing family before the breach became irreparable.
"Please, do not leave in this manner," the queen entreated, catching up with them already in the corridor beyond the hall. "Let me set this right - there is no need to make hasty decisions in the heat of a moment's anger."
"Father has already decided everything for us, Mother," Viserra answered, turning to the queen with bitterness in her gaze. "Tonight I have seen with my own eyes just how hostile his true feelings toward my family are, and no regret, however sincere, will ever erase from my memory what was said at that table."
"Corlys, I implore you, calm yourself," Prince Aemon said, addressing his good-brother. "Tomorrow we shall speak calmly, and I am certain we can settle whatever differences have arisen, if only you will grant us the chance to do so."
"This has nothing to do with differences, Prince Aemon, nor with the fact that your father did not grant us the Stepstones," Corlys answered, coming to a halt and fixing the prince with a direct, heavy stare. "The matter is that the king saw fit, this evening, to humiliate me and my family publicly, for the amusement of the lords gathered here. Your father has forgotten that a king is but first among equals, and that lords are not his slaves to command. Or else, perhaps, he never understood that at all. There is nothing more to discuss here. Now, if you will forgive me - we must prepare to sail, and time presses."
Lady Alice, walking a little way behind with her sons, looked at Corlys and could not begin to guess what he might do next. She knew her eldest son far too well to doubt that he would surely seek some manner of vengeance for such a humiliation, and could only hope, within herself, that in seeking it he would not go too far.
Queen Alysanne stood at the window of one of the castle's towers together with Rhaenys, both watching in silence as the lights of the Velaryon ship slowly receded across the dark waters of the bay. The princess was the first to break the heavy silence.
"Grandfather behaved terribly tonight," Rhaenys said quietly, her eyes still fixed upon the receding lights. "I have never seen Corlys like that before. He usually manages to master himself, whatever may be happening around him, but tonight there was something truly frightening in his eyes."
"Your grandfather sometimes relies too heavily upon his own power, forgetting that even the crown's most loyal subjects have their limits of patience," Alysanne answered with a heavy sigh. "I fear tonight will come back to haunt us all far more severely than Jaehaerys is capable of imagining, at this moment."
An hour later, Corlys already stood upon the deck of his own ship, bearing him away from King's Landing, watching with undisguised hatred as the lights of the capital receded, slowly dissolving into the evening darkness astern. Viserra and his mother were below, in the cabins, trying to settle Daemon and Victor, roused and unsettled by all the commotion, back to sleep, while Corlys's brothers gave the last of their orders to the guardsmen and sailors, ensuring a swift and safe crossing of Blackwater Bay.
"In all the years of both my lives," Corlys said quietly, to no one in particular, "no one has ever humiliated me in such a manner. And that bastard dared to do it, no doubt believing that the throne beneath him grants him some moral right to insult me publicly - and before my own family, no less. Before my mother, my brothers, and my wife."
He gripped the wooden rail of the ship's side tightly, his eyes still fixed on the city's vanishing lights.
"You brought this upon yourself, Jaehaerys," he said, almost in a whisper, a cold, carefully restrained fury creeping into his voice. "And I promise you this: I shall make you curse this day for the rest of your worthless life - the day you chose to insult me before my own family. And may I never again be called Corlys Velaryon, if I do not make you regret it."
Daeron, having finished giving his last orders to the crew, came up onto the upper deck and stopped beside his brother, leaning against the same rail. For a time he said nothing, hesitant to speak first, but at last he spoke, choosing his words with care.
"Whatever it is you mean to do, brother," he said quietly, looking out at the same darkness Corlys was watching, "remember that Veylor and I stand with you always, whatever may come. Tonight's humiliation touched not you alone, but our entire house, and I do not intend simply to forget it, as though it were nothing more than a chance slip of the tongue from a king who had drunk too much."
"I remember it well, Daeron," Corlys answered, his gaze still fixed upon the dark water beyond the rail. "And believe me, I shall most certainly find a way to turn tonight against those who thought they had the right to humiliate our family without consequence. But there is no need to rush in such matters: vengeance served too hastily is rarely truly satisfying."
Veylor, who had come up to join them, said nothing, only nodding silently at his elder brother's words as he took his place on Corlys's other side, and the three of them stood there a long while at the rail, watching the lights of the capital fade into the darkness, as the ship steadily gathered speed, carrying House Velaryon away from King's Landing.
Far away, upon the island of Antillia, within his lair among the rocks, Neltharion, who had until then been peacefully dozing after a long day, suddenly snapped his eyes open, sensing through their bond a surge of his rider's furious rage, and let out a long, savage roar that echoed across the dark waters surrounding the island.
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A/N
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