The citadel of Dragonstone rose out of the sea in great spires, the towers in the shape of dragons befitting the name. Thousands of gargoyles adorned the the walls and battlements of the fortress, of all manner of beasts, staring out to the open sea at those who would approach. It was here that the heir to the Iron Throne had traditionally made their seat, and it was here that the rightful Queen marshalled her forces to crush her usurper half-brother in King's Landing. The arrival of Lord Corlys Velaryon on the island would mark the first meeting of the full Black Council.
Out on the shore, Silver Wyrm rocked from the waves, its large sails seen from the Castle. Horns blowed from the sea, it was the arrival of the Seaman, the Lord of the Tides. Perhaps the most famous man in all of Westeros, every merchant in Pentos knew his name, every Archon in Tyrosh feared his wroth, every myrman cheered his name in their guilds, and every Lysene whore pleased herself at the thought of him. “How many lords are there already, Jace?” Daeron was at his right, the boy to his left, as the old man put his hands on his hips, his long cape frilled and extravagant as ever.
Jacaerys thought for a moment before he answered. “There are probably about a dozen lesser lords here by now, Bartimos of Claw Isle, Stauton of Rook’s Rest, Darklyn of Duskendale. You are the greatest lord to arrive so far by quite a margin.” The sea snake smiled, “Hah! Celtigar would argue against that, no doubt. It will be good to see the boys again, Daeron, prepare the anchor! One of you fools, herald my coming!”
Queen Rheanyra lay in her chambers, struggling to keep her mind clear from the thoughts of hatred and anger that had dominated her waking hours for the past days. Her father dead, her half-brother an usurper, and her daughter dead from the shock of it. It was beyond any soul’s capacity to handle, and her rage and sorrow had been pitch black. Now the Lords who held to their oaths were arriving and she would need to focus and present herself as the queen she was to be, rather than the scorned sister and anguished mother that she felt herself as now.
Prince Daemon entered the Queen’s chambers. “They have arrived, my sweet,” he said, smiling. The “Rogue Prince”, the veteran of many battles, could barely contain his zeal for the upcoming fight- if it was to be one.
Much as Rhaenyra loved her husband, she was in no mood for his charming. Their daughter had been dead for less than a week, and he was back to his pet names and quick smiles. Barely restraining herself from making a lashing response that she didn’t mean, the queen responded, “Then we must go greet Lord Corlys and my son properly. I am still recovering from our lost daughter, “ she stared pointedly at Daemon as if reminding him, “and might need assistance walking there. Try not to make it look obvious if you need to.” She then lifted herself from her seat using the arms to support her.
Daemon rushed to assist the Queen. He stopped smiling as he supported his wife. He had opened his mouth too fast as he had done on many occasions. He had grieved for their lost daughter as well. But he had lost two wives at this point and had seen many die on the Stepstones and in the mud of Flea Bottom. Death was a natural part of Daemon’s life.
Sighing inwardly at her husband’s interpretation of “not obvious assistance”, Queen Rhaenyra gently pushed his hands away from her once she was standing, and moved toward the door herself, going slowly to avoid unnecessary exertion. She might arrive at the council room later than planned, but she wasn’t worried that the old Sea Snake would be moving there any swifter.
Corlys, as ever, was fashionably late. He had taken his time to speak to those he knew in the castle, tipping an stableboy here and there, chatting as Jace impatiently urged him on. The council-room was full by the time his attendants opened the doors for them, Daeron rushing forward. “May I present the Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark, and Lord Admiral of the King’-.. Former Lord Admiral Corlys Velaryon.” He bowed, and the old man walked in on his favorite weirdwood cane, pressing his mustache down with his fingers, “What’s all this, then?” He frowned, taking the seat opposite of Rhaenyra, at the end of the Table.
Jace shrugged his shoulders in apology to his mother for their late arrival as he took a seat off to the side.
Queen Rhaenyra had only just seated herself before Lord Corlys entered, and was less concerned by his timeliness, more troubled by his apparent lack of understanding as to the nature of this council, though a part of her suspected it was a ploy of his to give himself power by forcing her to explain the situation at his request. Much though it troubled her to play into his hand, she was not in the mood to beat around the bush for petty power shows, “Lord Corlys, this is my council, that will see to it that I achieve my rightful place as Queen upon the Iron Throne, defeating my usurper half-brother and his traitorous advisors. Your presence here is for the great wealth and influence you possess and the close bond our Houses share, with my son and heir being your own grandson.” “And your ships,” Daemon added, bluntly. Rhaenyra briefly shot a glare at her husband for interrupting her, before continuing, “For your illustrious support, you’d be named Hand of the Queen, and given your traditional title as Lord Admiral of the Queen’s Fleet.” She smiled as she said the offices to be given him. “It would be like old times, Corlys,” Daemon said, grinning.
Corlys let her have her due, speaking what she had to say, as he picked his teeth, inspecting his hands, not paying much mind. He raised an eyebrow as she offered him the Handship. He squinted slightly, as he pulled out a pipe from seemingly nowhere, beginning to smoke it. “Where’s my Princess?” He said, looking around with a confused face. “She said she would be here a fortnight ago, to see her grandchildren.” He looked at Rheanyra, the only person suitable to answer such a question. Daemon was always a fool without tact, best not to pay any mind.
Rhaenyra frowned at Corlys’ terrible manners, and debated bringing him to heel for it. After all she was the rightful Queen, and should be shown proper respect. However his fragile ego might get damaged too much, and his ships were much too valuable to risk on petty politics. Instead she smiled and played a different card, “Your wife was quick to pledge herself to my cause, and has taken her dragon to fly to nearby Lords and gather their support. She should probably be near Sharp Point by now.” She quite pointedly avoided any talk of her stillborn daughter, since she could not trust herself to remain queenly if she mentioned it.
Corlys fingered the pipe, remaining silent for a moment. He quickly had on a sharp smile, and barked a laugh. “Ah My Queen, you are too generous! Me as Hand? Why, I’d never be deserving of such an office..” He acted as if he completely forgot what he had said just moments ago, “but I will gladly accept it.” He pulled out his necklace, the dragon sigil on it, covered in gold, with eyes of rubies, he seemed proud of it. “Once an Dragon, always an dragon, eh? You know, I always did think you were the better of the two.” He winked, speaking of Aegon. “What shall we call this Council? Perhaps something to really make that Alicent angry!” He laughed again. The old man was a sage, a living legend, yet he spoke gregariously and his eyes were ablaze.
“Mother’s supporters have long been known as blacks,” Jacaerys looked around the table at the loyalists. “Why should we make things more complicated than that? Lady Hightower has her green council in King’s Landing, and we have our black.”
“Quick! Always like an Velaryon, I told yah.” He grinned at Celtigar, tapping his nose, who growled at his old rival.
“That is wonderful but let us get down to business,” Daemon interjected. “Which houses can we count on?”
Happy to get the initiative of conversation away from Corlys, Rhaenyra put on a confident face as she responded, “My mother was an Arryn, so I’m confident Lady Jeyne of the Vale will support us. If the Starks are even half as honorable as they claim, they will follow their vows to my father. Borros Baratheon should also support us, his father was one of my most vocal proponents. The Lannisters and Hightowers will back the usurper. The others are less clear, with many possibly waiting for promises or favours, despite their vows to respect my father’s wishes.”
“Oaths are all well in good, my queen, but those that rule? They are the ones that have influence. Who has more? Aegon, he holds the throne, thus, the people will in turn look to him as their King for the time being, they don’t care, as long as they eat.” He leaned back against the chair, “Our one shining aspect: Dragons. We win a few battles, and the grip they have will lessen dramatically.. A few blockades won’t help their situation any more, either.” Corlys grinned past his large mustache, “Course’, gold doesn’t hinder to have either.” He produced an golden dragon, flipping it to her. All flash, all the finesse. Corlys has been through dozens of battles, and dozens of political struggles.
“That little boar has Vhagar but we have more dragons,” Daemon quickly added after the Lord of Tides had finished. “And Rhaenys and I can fly circles around them. We are the best dragonriders in the world while they are just green boys. Sunfyre is beautiful but he has never seen battle. Vhagar is fierce but she has grown old and slow. And I still have many friends in King’s Landing so the city will be ours once we make our move.”
Jacaerys fidgeted in his seat as his thoughts turned to Vermax. He cleared his throat to get the table’s attention before speaking out. “We’re to throw our dragons against theirs? There are few men who could claim to be dragonslayers, but dragons have little trouble killing each other. Surely we can make better use of ours unless battle is absolutely necessary.”
“Quick! Always like an Velaryon, I told yah.” He grinned at Celtigar, tapping his nose, who growled at his old rival, again. After having his peace with his little joke, Corlys looked at his grandson, “Jace, we of course have to prepare, but fighting is imperative. The longer they hold the Iron Throne, the longer the lords of the realm will be convinced that Aegon is the rightful King. What do you say, Rhaenyra, conservation, or striking at their gullet while their uncoordinated?” Corlys liked the odds, but he didn’t sound as brash as Daemon. Plans would have to be set, to ensure their victory… Losses were assured, but he didn’t need to tell the boy of that.
Rhaenyra frowned at Corlys’ informality, “I am your queen now Lord Corlys, it would reflect well of you to remember that. As for the question of what to do witht he dragons, it would be too rash to assault them immediately, we should wait to marshall our forces, and let them spread themselves thin. If we attack before we’re ready, it could mean disaster.”
The old admiral stifled a laugh, “I apologize my Queen, you look just as young as you did when you were the Realm’s Delight! In the heart of every young knight.” He tipped his pipe at her, “Perhaps when we get you a crown, my.. Frail mind will be able to remember,” he winked at his queen, and sat back. “Dragonstone still has some ships, eh? We could sail out in a few days time, and be at King’s Landing before they know what to do with themselves. The Gold Cloaks number two-thousand do they, Daemon? I have twice that number.”
Jace slammed his hands on the table. “And force Aegon and his supporters into a fight over the city! Your four thousand men won’t mean anything if ten dragons are laying waste to King’s Landing. We should make sure that we have the support of the realm.” He turned to Rhaenyra, the anger leaving his voice. “Mother, I would fly Vermax north, to treat with the Maid of the Vale and Lord Stark. If our uncle wishes to call us Strongs and claim we are bastards then we will show the lords that it is a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons.” Corlys blinked, muttering “I never said we had to sail out.” under his breath, he watched the boy have the courage to counteract the richest man in Westeros.
Queen Rhaenyra nodded at her son’s words, “My son is correct, we need the support of the realm. Securing allies will force the usurper to spread his forces and leave King’s Landing vulnerable, then we can strike. Going to the Eyrie and Winterfell will serve that well, and we might also do well to send an envoy to Storm’s End as well.”
“In the meantime Lord Corlys’ ships will need protection in case the usurpers decide to send their dragons to break the blockade,” Daemon said. “Rhaenys and I can patrol the skies over Dragonstone, the Blackwater, and our allies in the Crownlands.”
Corlys spoke up, before his thoughts were lost to him. “I wish to have another with me. A more permanent crewmate.” He looked to Rhaenyra, “My Queen, I think it is high time Joffrey becomes an squire. Who better, than his own grandsire? The boy doesn’t even know what an sail is. I intend to sail out across the Gullet, he’ll be safe there, and Sharp Point or Driftmark are both a safe bit away.” He needed one of them to be an Velaryon. Just one.
Rhaenyra was loathe to give up another of her children after losing one and sending two more away, but Driftmark was close and safe, “That would be acceptable Lord Corlys. It might serve Prince Joffrey well to grow accustomed to a new environment, and Driftmark is close enough that there’d be no question of his safety.”
Joffrey, who had been standing silently off to the side with his brother Lucerys, frowned at his mother. “You want me to sit in Driftmark? Tyraxes and I should be with Prince Daemon when he leads the army against the usurper.”
Corlys let out a puff of smoke from his pipe. “The Hand leads and directs the armies, my boy. It's been that way ever since the reign of Aegon the First, with his half-brother, Orys Baratheon.”
Daemon laughed. “I have more combat experience than any man on the continent,” he tartly retorted. “You cannot even walk without assistance. How are you expected to lead the armies, especially when you are on your ship.” Daemon smirked. “And besides, Aegon also entrusted armies to Visenya and Rhaenys, not just Orys.”
Corlys blew a cloud of smoke, that somehow looked quite like a ship, and it hit Daemon right in the face. “More experience, all, except, for I. I’ve seen more battles than you’ve seen your own dragon.” It was a rather large boast, but Corlys wanted to make his point across. “You can lead an army, but the entire war-effort? Do you think you have the strategy, to plan months in ahead? To make supply-lines, to command Lords who have been sitting on their thrones for decades? You’ve got a stable head on your shoulders, and a good swinging arm, but you’re no warleader.”
“What would you know of supply lines from your ship?” Daemon replied, a frown coming across his face. Lord Corlys was always so stubborn. Though what man or woman who possessed the blood of old Valyria was not? “You may have travelled the globe and defeated many fleets, but you have never commanded armies. Remember that it was I who created and led the City Watch of King’s Landing and it was I who led the armies in the Stepstones.”
Corlys started to puff, salt and smoke deep in his face, as he reminded himself not to curse his once-ago friend off of this island.
Queen Rhaenyra spoke in a loud and firm voice to end the bickering between her husband and he Hand, “Enough. We have enemies enough to face from the usurpers, we don’t need to add each other to the list. Lord Corlys commands most of our navy and has decades of experience, so he will command the fleets and oversee supplies. My husband is a seasoned fighter and leader of men, with much experience building organizations, so he will command the armies on land. This is the final say on the matter, from your queen.”
Daemon was beginning to grow weary from the chatter and debate. Politics and flattery were his brother’s pastime, not his. Allies and plans were always useful, of course, but the war would be won by fighting. And he had no doubt that he was the best fighter in the Seven Kingdoms. He could not wait to begin the battle. However, a thought had just come to the prince. “The usurper has the throne and with that carries legitimacy. We must show the realm that Queen Rhaenyra is their rightful ruler. You must be crowned, my love, and quickly.” Daemon turned to his wife. Corlys grit his teeth, standing suddenly.
“Yes. Yes. I should probably attend to my ship. Jace, come. I have a present for you.” He turned, his cape whirling all around him, as elegant as ever, yet it was all shattered when he almost fell from his limp, Daeron standing and helping the Hand of the Queen out of the council room. Jacaerys sighed heavily and stood up from his seat, bowing to his mother before leaving the room to follow Lord Corlys.
Daemon rose from his seat after Corlys had exited. “Don’t you worry, my love,” he said to the Queen. I will teach Alicent’s pups their place and we shall burn that whore. Fire and blood.”
Rhaenyra gave her husband a weary smile. He had a habit of making trouble with important allies it seemed, though Lord Corlys was not much better himself. Keeping those two focused on the usurpers would be almost more trouble than actually fighting them she suspected.
"Fire and blood indeed, my dear."
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