Violent Tides - Chapter 15: Worsening Relations

Corlys continues to chafe against the Crown's authority, once again wishing to do what he believes that no one else is willing to.

The Next Day, King’s Landing 

Viserys rubbed the side of his head as he listened to his Master of Ships read from the report he had just received regarding a pirate attack in the Gullet, irritation bubbling within him. 

“This is a violation of the King’s authority. House Velaryon were given orders not to stray far from their shores and to leave the protection of our waters and eradication of seafaring threats to the Crown’s fleet,” Alicent said snidely, looking directly at her husband. “And this is a violation that cannot be allowed to stand.” 

Lyman quickly interjected, clearing his throat. “With all due respect, my Queen, Lord Corlys was responding to an attack upon his own ships. I do not believe many lords in the realm would simply sit idle while their men were being slaughtered and their wears stolen.” 

“There is also the matter that His Grace decreed that the Sea Snake’s ships permitted to patrol their immediate waters, so long as he did not encroach too far into the seas, and with only a few vassals,” Jasper added. 

“I was not aware that the Gullet was a part of Lord Corlys’ personal domain,” Alicent said coldly. 

Lyman shifted in his seat. “Well, part of the Gullet surely is, but regardless, we do not know yet if-” 

Viserys pinched the bridge of his nose. “Enough 

The council immediately quieted, watching as Viserys removed his hand from his face and extended it toward Tyland. 

“How many ships were lost?” 

Tyland consulted the report. “Two confirmed destroyed, Your Grace. Another heavily damaged, and several dozen sailors are dead or missing.” 

Viserys grimaced. “And the enemy?” 

“The reports claim that Ser Laenor and Princess Rhaenys arrived upon dragon back shortly after the attack began and the pirate vessels were burned.” 

Seven save me. Viserys thought, leaning back in his chair. 

“Have any survivors been captured by House Velaryon?” Grand Maester Mellos asked. 

“If they have, then Lord Velaryon has made no mention of it.” 

“We know that piracy has been increasing over the last few moons within the Narrow Sea,” The Lord Hand stated, folding his hands together. “Lord Corlys brought such matters to this council when he was last in the capital. And I’m sure that he will use this attack as justification to return and bring this issue up again. Your Grace, I understand that his behavior has become increasingly difficult these past few moons, but I believe any feelings towards him should be put aside. Being attacked may make Lord Corlys more amicable to working alongside the Lannister fleet.” 

“Or it will make Lord Velaryon believe that he can do as he pleases simply because he commands the largest fleet in the realm?” Alicent said as she looked at the man. “Should our King ignore the disrespect Lord Velaryon has shown both him and this council by giving into his demands, Lord Lyonel?”  

“It sends the message that a lord will continue to defend his people when they are attacked,” Lyonel answered evenly before Viserys could speak. “There is a distinction between open defiance and responding to an immediate threat.” 

Alicent's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing else in response to the Hand. 

Lyonel looked away from the Queen and toward the King, inwardly vexed by the woman’s clear distaste for him. 

While he knew that Alicent had not been happy with Viserys when he released her father from the position that he now occupies, she had at least been indifferent towards him in the aftermath. But in the last few years, she regarded him as if he were an enemy rather than the impartial servant of the Crown; he had always striven to be. 

Lyonel was not blind enough not to see why this was, having noticed the shift in Alicent's demeanor shortly after the Crown Princess had given birth to Prince Jacaerys. 

Disappointment, rage, and fear had nearly consumed him when he confronted his eldest son once he had seen Jacaerys’ features, and the nonchalant and dismissive attitude of Harwin when he denied Lyonel’s questioning. 

The recent birth of Prince Lucerys only added to the Queen’s coldness toward Lyonel and those of his house for every child Rhaenyra bore who resembled Harwin rather than Laenor became another weapon to be wielded against her and another insult that the Queen believed went against the laws of men. 

Despite that knowledge, Lyonel had resolved long ago that his duty was to the realm, not to his own family. If Rhaenyra had indeed erred, that judgment belonged to the King and the Gods, not him. 

Viserys let out a weary sigh. “I did not forbid Corlys from defending Driftmark, I forbade him from provoking another conflict in the Narrow Sea.” 

More than once, Viserys wished for all issues beyond Westeros' borders to cease, yet time and again, the troubles of the Narrow Sea refused to resolve themselves. 

“Lyonel. I want a raven sent to Driftmark.” 

“What message shall I convey, Your Grace?” 

“Offer the Crown’s condolences for the men House Velaryon has lost. And remind Lord Corlys,” Viserys continued. “That while I understand the necessity of his actions, I expect a full accounting of the engagement and of every ship he committed.” 

Lyonel nodded. “It shall be done.” 

Viserys turned to Tyland. “As for the Lannister fleet, I want additional patrols throughout Blackwater Bay and the Gullet. 

Tyland straightened his posture. “I shall dispatch the orders immediately, Your Grace. But there is one matter involving the surge in piracy.” 

Viserys sighed. “When does there ever cease to be?” 

“The merchants of Duskendale and Maidenpool have begun petitioning the Crown. They claim the recent pirate attacks are already disrupting their own trade.” 

Viserys closed his eyes for a brief moment as his irritation worsened as it seemed that every answer only gave birth to new problems.

~X~

Corlys threw the parchment to the side of his desk with a scoff, once again incensed by the King's continued position. 

The other three people within the Sea Snake's solar watched the rage that had overtaken his features, each having expected such a reaction the moment the raven bearing the royal seal had arrived. 

It had been over half a day since Laenor and Rhaenys had returned from the Gullet, and the mood within High Tide had remained as bleak as the storm that had heralded their attack. 

Rhaenys leaned over to take the message that the Hand of the King had written with the King's authority and read it herself. 

“What has the King decreed?” Vaemond asked. 

“His Grace offers his condolences for the men we lost and has acknowledged that my husband acted to defend his own waters but expects a full account of the battle and is expecting our house not to further engage with any force past our boarders. He is also tasking the Lannisters with increasing patrols of Gullet and the Narrow Sea, and he will soon be sending envoys to Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh to ask the council of the Triarchy to bring these wayward scoundrels to justice,” Rhaenys said. 

Corlys let out a derisive laugh. “Envoys? What does he believe that envoys will accomplish after such an afront?” 

“The King is attempting to avoid another war for the Stepstones,” Rhaenys replied calmly, setting the letter back upon the desk. 

“This attack was a test of our defenses, and to see exactly how far the Crown is willing to go,” Corlys spat. “This might as well be the same as the previous war; they know that they can attack and steal from us with impunity! King is doing this because-” 

Rhaenys shook her head. “Even if you and Rhaenyra had not joined forces with the Tyrells to harass the Hightowers, my cousin would still not allow you to march House Velaryon into another war without the Crown's leave. He fears the Narrow Sea becoming another battlefield and weakening trade more than he fears the pirates themselves.” 

“And that is exactly why these vermin grow bolder.” 

Corlys felt as if he was the only person in Westeros who understood that every concession made would simply embolden their enemies. 

Once again, the aging lord cursed the day that Viserys was allowed to succeed the Old King. Corlys had much to say against Jaehaerys Targaryen, but he would never accuse the man of being weak, Jaehaerys would never have allowed the Narrow Sea to descend into lawlessness. And if the man had not been so foolish, Corlys knew that his wife would not have allowed same if she was the reigning monarch, not with him by her side. 

“If the Crown will not do anything then we should prepare ourselves for another campaign into the Stepstones. I will not allow these losses to go unpunished.” 

Laenor cleared his throat. “Father, would another campaign not simply be pointless?” 

Corlys narrowed his eyes as his head quickly turned in his son’s direction. “Pointless?” 

“I mean that we have already cleared the islands once before only for them to quickly be taken and stolen by pirates and petty warlords repeatedly over the years,” Laenor said. 

“He is not wrong; there have already been two men that have claimed themselves to be King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea after you placed that that crown of bone and driftwood upon Daemon's head, brother,” Vaemond said dryly. 

Corlys scowled at his younger brother, having heard repeatedly from Vaemond how crowning Daemon had been a shortsighted and dangerous political decision, accusing him of only doing so as a way of further prodding their King. 

“And it’s not as if we are the only ones,” Laenor continued. “History is filled accounts of the Seven Kingdoms trying to wrest control over those blasted rocks; during The First Dornish War a pirate King allied with Dorne to attack Cape Wrath, during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign when Maegor the Cruel alongside your great grandfather, Aethan Velaryon, and Osmund Strong led a campaign against Sargoso Saan, or during the Fourth Dornish War when the Old King, my grandfather, and Prince Baelon burned an entire fleet within a single day, or even the aftermath of the Myrish Bloodbath. We can win another war, father, but unless we intend to occupy the Stepstones permanently, we will simply be fighting the same enemy again in a few years.” 

“Then perhaps we should occupy them,” Corlys said without hesitation. 

“With whose men?” Vaemond countered. “Ours?” 

Corlys did not answer immediately, and everyone looked at him with varying degrees of skepticism. 

“The Stepstones possess no fields to feed an army, no forests worth speaking of, little fresh water, no great castles, and say nothing of how more than a dozen islands make up the archipelago. Every loaf of bread, every barrel of ale, every replacement sword, every nail for every dock would have to come from Driftmark or King's Landing,” Vaemond argued, folding his arms. “We would bankrupt ourselves guarding rocks.” 

Corlys scoffed. “Those 'rocks' command the Narrow Sea. If anything, conquering the Stepstones is something that should have been done long before now, I would simply be correcting the mistake that countless men across the centuries have failed to rectify. This is the right thing to do for our house and the realm; I know that it is.” 

“Corlys, whether you are right or wrong does not matter,” Rhaenys said, staring pointedly at her husband. “Do you think the other lords of Westeros would sit back and allow you to control the Stepstones indefinitely? Do you think the Crown would as well? And what happens when you have conquered them? Do you proclaim yourself Lord of Driftmark, the Narrow Sea, and the Stepstones? And as Vaemond said, we would bankrupt ourselves trying to control the Stepstones if you do this. How would you make back the cost? Would you set up a toll along the sea lanes? Is that not what led you to attack the Triarchy in the first place?” 

The room quieted, no one immediately offered another rebuttal as Corlys gritted his teeth. 

“Perhaps we can try and parlay with other houses that have been affected by the Triarchy’s raids,” Laenor suggested. “It will only be a matter of time before places like Duskendale, Maidenpool, Gulltown, and White Harbor begin to feel the same. If enough lords begin demanding action, father, then we can petition the King again and this time, you will not have to convince the King alone.” 

Once again, the only solutions being offered are to throw myself at Viserys’ feet and plead with him to do what he should already feel inclined to. Will the humiliations never cease? Must House Velaryon forever beg the Iron Throne to defend the very seas upon which the realm's prosperity depended? Corlys thought, his fingers drumming against the edge of his desk. 

Corlys remained silent for several long moments before letting out a slow breath. “Very well.” 

Vaemond raised an eyebrow. “You are agreeing to this?” 

Vaemond had expected his brother to reject the proposal outright, dismissing it as another excuse to delay the inevitable. 

“For now,” Corlys replied sharply. “If Viserys refuses to act after the realm itself begins demanding it, then the responsibility for what follows shall rest upon his shoulders, not mine.” 

Then let us hope that the Seven and the Merling King will change the King’s mind. Vaemond thought to himself, having no interest in returning to the Stepstones. 

He remembered the drawn-out conflict well, along with the thousands of men who had bled and died upon those barren rocks for victories that never seemed to last. He could only imagine what another war in the Narrow Sea would look like and how arduous it would be. 

Rhaenys sighed, though there was the faintest trace of amusement on her face. “I will write to the lords whose ports have suffered raids and tell them House Velaryon seeks a united response with them to beseech the Crown against piracy.” 

Corlys nodded. “Thank you, my love.” 

Laenor looked between his parents and uncle before speaking once more. “I will have Seasmoke continue to patrol Driftmark's coast each morning and evening. Even if father is correct and the Triarchy is testing us, they will think twice before returning while dragons are in the skies.” 

“I will do the same with Meleys,” Rhaenys said. 

A few minutes later, Laenor and Vaemond left the room, leaving the Lord and Lady of Driftmark behind. 

Rhaenys remained seated for a long while, watching her husband stare at the map spread across the wall behind him. 

“What else are you plotting, husband?” Rhaenys asked. 

“You make it sound as if I'm conspiring against the Crown,” Corlys said with faux offense. 

“You might as well be,” Rhaenys drawled and a ghost of a smile appeared on Corlys’ face. “But you have not answered my question. When we were speaking to Laenor and Vaemond about petitioning the other lords and gaining their support... you had that look in your eyes.” 

The princess had been married to Corlys long enough to know when he was planning something particularly daring. 

Corlys leaned forward in his chair. “Can you write a letter to Pentos and-” 

“I will not ask Daemon to return just so that you can have him join you in yet another war, Corlys.” 

“If we are to take the Stepstones, then-” 

Rhaenys scoffed. “What do you think Viserys’ reaction will be if he finds out that his brother returns to Westeros only to once again defy him? You will be driving a deeper wedge between our house and the Crown if you seek Daemon’s cooperation.” 

“For what reason, I cannot tell but we all see how much Viserys misses Daemon. Despite everything that has passed between them, he has never truly stopped loving his brother, any anger he has over the Stepstones will be mitigated by Daemon’s presence.” 

Corlys was sure that if news reached Viserys that taking control of the Stepstones could possibly lead to Daemon returning permanently to Westeros, then the King would hesitate before opposing such a venture outright. 

“Besides, Rhaenys, this is not just about Daemon and his contributions to this effort. If Daemon is busy fighting the Triarchy then Laena and the girls will have no reason to remain away from Driftmark’s shores,” Corlys continued. 

“Do not try and use our daughter and granddaughters as a means of convincing me to support your folly,” Rhaenys hissed. 

Corlys pushed forward, ignoring the glare his wife was giving him. “I am not using them; I merely wish to show you that I am not doing for what I am sure that you think are selfish reasons. Our family should not be separated like this, our girls should be here with us, not relying on the goodwill of Pentoshi merchants and princes, they have been separated from us for far too long.” 

“You say that, but I do not see you making the same argument for Aurys and his family,” Rhaenys said. 

Corlys nearly rolled his eyes at the mention of his youngest brother, his wife, and their five sons. Unlike Vaemond, who had been content with remaining at Driftmark and with supporting Corlys, Aurys had chaffed under the shadow of his oldest brother’s legacy, and desired to make something of himself beyond the Velaryon name. 

Aurys spent more time at sea than ashore, chasing distant ports and fortunes across the Summer Sea and it was only because of his own time at sea, emboldened by his ambitious desire to elevate their house that kept Corlys from completely admonishing or abandoning his brother, even if he was often aggravated when Aurys would only write to him once every few moons to ask him for more coin. 

“Aurys is different, Laena belongs here and bringing Daemon back is the best way to ensure this.” 

“Daemon is not solely a mindless beast who craves bloodshed, despite what many may think of him. How do you expect to convince my cousin to leave Pentos?” Rhaenys said, crossing her arms. “I doubt retaking the Stepstones is the lure that you think that it is.” 

“But do you truly believe that Daemon Targaryen of all men is happy pretending to be a prince of leisure, hosting feasts, and entertaining magisters on his dragons? This would be a chance for him to reclaim the glory he tasted in the Stepstones and perhaps-” 

“You are underestimating Daemon’s stubbornness and are once again allowing your pride to blind your senses. One of these days you are going to push the confines of propriety too far with your ambitions, Corlys,” Rhaenys said, moving to stand. 

Corlys frowned. “You are too cautious, Rhaenys.” 

Rhaenys gave her husband a resigned smile. “And you are not cautious enough, but I suppose that knew this about you when I married you, it’s a trait that I both love and loathe within you.” 

“If I allowed myself to be held back by the fear of upsetting the status quo then House Velaryon would never stand where it does today. And now I am expected to watch all of that unravel because no one has the stomach to upset a King who fears any kind of conflict!” Corlys exclaimed, clenching his hands. 

Rhaenys regarded her husband for a long moment before shaking her head and leaving the room, ignoring her husband’s calls. 

They had had this same argument many times over the course of their marriage, the change having truly started once her grandfather had made her uncle, Baelon, Prince of Dragonstone after her father died in Tarth. He saw this choice and the one eventually made at the Great Council as not only an insult to her, but to himself and the entirety of his house. 

Corlys was seldom satisfied despite all that he had accomplished in his life, once remarking to her that he felt as if House Velaryon was the realm’s second son, doomed to forever be subservient to House Targaryen and forced to be thankful for the mere scarps that they were given, an outlook that he believed that not even his marriage to the woman who should have been Queen of the Seven Kingdoms nor his voyages had ever managed to erase. 

It hurt Rhaenys to know that Corlys could not be content with what he already possessed, even as she understood how he felt, having spent much of her life aware of the relentless urge within to prove herself to everyone who had dare dismiss her, even as time and maturity had dampened that inner fire a bit. 

The difference was that Rhaenys had learned to live with the disappointment while Corlys never had, far too set in his ways to ever do so. 

As turned down an adjacent corridor, she paused before one of the tall windows overlooking the sea, Rhaenys saw how still the water was, its glasslike surface betraying nothing of the violence that she and her son had partaken in a few leagues away. 

Rhaenys rested a hand against the cool glass, and she wondered if her husband would heed her advice or if they would once again be defying the Crown. 

~X~

Hours Later 

Aelora stepped back from the canvas before her, the itch in her head finally being satisfied by the act of putting the face she had been seeing as of late in her dreams. 

She stood in the center of the bedroom that had been set aside for her; both of her hands stained with streaks of paint. 

It was often hard to deal with the urge to paint, likening the sensation to an insatiable hunger deep within her, but the headaches and eye strain that accompanied her dreams were far more unbearable to the young girl. 

Aelora still has not told anyone about the physical affects her dreams often gave her, and especially not the blood that would sometimes fall from her eyes, too afraid of being a bother to everyone around her and of how they would look at her if they knew. 

After the dream she had of Laenor lying dead in a street, Aelora's subsequent visions had been hazy, keeping her seeing the events unfold in perfect clarity as they normally did. She did not know what this meant; the face staring back at her had been one of the few people she could see clearly, even if her temperament and the spaces around them seemed to change with great frequency.  

But despite this, Aelora accepted this gladly, happy to be seeing anything else other than her father, too distressed to think about the dream she had on the ship further. 

Aelora did not turn around when she heard the chamber doors open, nor when her mother stepped into the room. 

“I thought I might find you here,” Rhaenyra said softly.  

The Crown Princess had noticed her daughter's absence from her household’s midday meal and, after asking one of the servants, learned that Aelora had shut herself away in her chambers shortly after they had broken fast, taking several pots of paint with her.  

When Aelora failed to answer her, Rhaenyra's gaze drifted past her daughter. 

Rhaenyra looked at the painting, taking in the image of a small, beautiful girl who could not have been older than six or seven with long silver hair laced with gold streaks, eyes as blue as the sea, a mischievous smile, and her skin was smooth, light, paler than Aelora’s. She was sitting down in a large chair in an elegantly designed room and was wearing a gown of pale white silk, Myrish lace, and pearls. 

“Aelora, who is this?” Rhaenyra asked her daughter. 

“Daenaera Velaryon,” Aelora muttered, rubbing her right eye with the back of her hand. 

“Daenaera Velaryon?” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow as she looked back at the painting. 

She tried to think of any Velaryon she knew with that name, and none came to mind, making her assume that the girl must have been a distant relative of little importance, perhaps one of the many cousins has Aelora played with whenever they visited Driftmark. 

“When is father coming back?” Aelora asked, her demeanor quickly changing as she turned around and smiled brightly at Rhaenyra. “We were going to search for seashells today, but father said that he needed to help grandsire with something important, and he wouldn't tell me what.” 

Rhaenyra, having grown used to her only daughter’s changing mood whenever she made her art, smiled gently. “He is, I know you were looking forward to spending the day with him.” 

Aelora nodded, her shoulders slumping as she did so. “I wanted to show him where I found the little crabs yesterday too.” 

“I am certain he would still like to see them. He can go with you once he has a moment to spare.” 

Rhaenyra knew that with the recent attack from the Triarchy that it would be some time before Laenor could return to their usual routine. She was not even sure if he would be returning with her and the children to King’s Landing in a few weeks’ time given the attention Driftmark now demanded of him. 

Aelora frowned. “I know but...” 

“But?” 

Aelora gently bit down on her bottom lip before quietly responding. “But... But what if he doesn’t come back?” 

The question caught Rhaenyra off guard, and she searched Aelora's face, unsettled by how serious she suddenly looked. “What makes you think that” 

Aelora hesitated, biting her lips again as she stared into her mother’s eyes, allowing Rhaenyra to see the fear in her eyes. 

“Aelora, did you see something happen to your father in your dragon dreams?” 

Rhaenyra hated asking her daughter about dreams that Aelora did not come to her about, both because a part of her feared what Aelora might tell her after the dream Aelora had of Aegon burning her alive and because she saw how uncomfortable making Aelora speak about her dreams made her. 

Since the day he discovered that Aelora was a dreamer, Viserys had been adamant that her gift be used for the betterment of their house. Despite swearing that he would not force Aelora to speak of them, Rhaenyra knew that her father would try and gently prod Aelora when the two were alone. 

“No, no I didn’t,” Aelora finally said, no longer looking Rhaenyra in the eye, instead keeping her gaze on the floor. 

The Crown Princess stared at her daughter for a few moments, seeing the uncertainty written plainly across the little girl's face and recognizing the same stubborn silence she herself had often worn as a child whenever she wished to hide something from her parents. 

She knew that forcing the issue would only make Aelora retreat further into herself, just as she always did whenever her dreams frightened her and so decided to divert the conversation. 

Rhaenyra's expression softened, and she gathered Aelora into her arms. “Your father is a knight, and your grandsire’s heir, my sweet girl. Sometimes duty calls him away.” 

Aelora pouted. “I don't like duty.” 

A laugh escaped Rhaenyra’s lips. “I cannot say that I always do either.”  

The pair remained like that for several moments before Rhaenyra's eyes drifted back toward the painting. “You do not need to worry about your father, there is little in this world that can hurt a dragonrider, and your father is good one.” 

“Is he better than you?” Aelora asked. 

Rhaenyra let out a snort. “He wishes.” 

Aelora giggled, her expression immediately changing and becoming joyful again. 

I will need to speak to Laenor about this. Rhaenyra thought, brushing a loose strand of silver hair behind Aelora's ear before kissing her forehead. 

Inwardly, Rhaenyra feared that each new dream stole another piece of her daughter's childhood, replacing it with burdens no one should ever have to bear, let alone a child. And she hated how helpless that this situation made her feel, knowing that there was not much that she could do for Aelora. 

“Come,” Rhaenyra said, taking Aelora's paint-stained hand into her own. “You've been shut away in here for far too long.” 

“But my painting-” 

“Will still be here when we return.” 

Aelora looked reluctantly toward the easel before nodding. “Can we walk along the beach?” 

“If the tide is low, my little storm,” Rhaenyra said, smiling in response to Aelora smiling back at her. 

As the two left Aelora’s bedroom, they walked through the corridors of High Tide together and Aelora squeezed her mother's hand tightly, excitedly telling the woman about the different types of crabs she has seen. 

Rhaenyra smiled down at her daughter, believing the little girl had finally put whatever troubled her out of her mind, unaware that they were both still thinking about Laenor.