Chapter 15: The Claim and the Consolation
Grief, like a heavy fog, descended upon Driftmark, shrouding the ancient seat of House Velaryon in a cloak of sorrow and hushed anticipation. Yet, for Prince Raegon Targaryen, Crown Prince and Hand, the solemnity of Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral was but another intricate dance in the grand ballet of power. Even amidst mourning, opportunity stirred, and the strings of his influence, invisible to most, were already being played.
A Whisper of Dominion
The journey to Driftmark was conducted under a sky as grey as the mood it contained. On board the royal galley, Prince Raegon sought out his half-brother, Aemond. Aemond, still without a dragon, carried the weight of his unfulfilled ambition like a physical burden, especially now with the riderless Vhagar a looming, powerful presence in their collective consciousness.
Raegon's voice was low, almost a murmur, meant for Aemond's ears alone. "Aemond," he began, his gaze steady, "I know the yearning within you. Vhagar is free. A magnificent beast, truly." Aemond's eyes, usually sharp and guarded, flickered with raw desire. "I would claim her, brother," he said, his voice tight. "But the mourning..."
Raegon nodded slowly, a subtle understanding in his gaze. "Indeed. Respect is paramount. This is a time for grief, for the Velaryons and for Daemon. But the opportunity will present itself. And when it does..." He paused, allowing the implication to settle. "Vhagar needs a rider. And you, Aemond, possess the will. I will support your claim. But let us wait. Wait for the mourning to truly be over. Patience, my brother, is the most potent of virtues." He placed a reassuring hand on Aemond's shoulder, a rare gesture of overt encouragement from the calculating Prince. Aemond's jaw tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the promise, and the implicit command for restraint.
Reunion and Reminders
The royal procession arrived at Driftmark, a solemn fleet breaking the grey expanse of the Narrow Sea. The air was thick with the scent of salt and sorrow. King Viserys, frail and leaning heavily on his guards, was led ashore, followed by Queen Alicent, her sons Aegor and Aemond, and Raegon himself, with Princess Rhaenyra by his side, their four children – Jacaerys, Aelor, Visenya, Rhaella – trailed behind them, a visible testament to the secure future of their line. Raegon's full brother, Prince Aegon, walked among them, his own Sunfyre a distant, golden speck in the sky.
Prince Daemon Targaryen, stoic yet visibly hollowed by grief, met them on the shore. His eyes, usually sharp and full of mischief, were dull and distant. He embraced King Viserys briefly, then turned to Raegon. "Brother," Daemon's voice was hoarse, "you come."
Raegon clasped Daemon's forearm firmly. "Of course, Daemon. We all do." He studied his uncle's face, seeing the toll Laena's death had taken. Daemon had always been a whirlwind of fire and chaos, but now, a deep weariness seemed to have settled upon him. He was not the rogue prince Raegon remembered; he was a man broken. Raegon's animal empathy, usually a tool for manipulation, now allowed him a rare, genuine glimpse into Daemon's profound grief.
As the younger children gathered, Raegon drew his own children and their Velaryon cousins, Baela and Rhaena, aside. His voice was low, grave, yet firm. "Children," he began, his eyes sweeping over them all, "this is a day of profound sadness. Show respect to your family, to all who grieve. But also... remember what has been lost here. A dragon has lost her rider. There will be whispers, there will be temptations. Do not let reckless ambition tarnish this solemn occasion. Dragons are loyal beasts, but they are not toys for petty squabbles. Any unseemly actions will not be tolerated." His gaze lingered on Aemond, who stood nearby, his face carefully blank, but Raegon knew his words had landed.
Later, Raegon sought out Daemon again, finding him standing alone near the cliffs, gazing out at the tumultuous sea. "Daemon," Raegon began, his tone surprisingly soft, "My condolences, truly. Laena was a fine woman. And a brave rider."
Daemon merely grunted, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.
"I know this is a difficult time," Raegon continued, "but you are not alone. You have family in King's Landing. Your daughters, Baela and Rhaena, are our kin. They are welcome, always. And you, if you find yourself... adrift. There is a place for you. The Master of Laws position, it sits vacant. After the funeral, if you wish to consider it, my door is open. A man of your experience, your... singular talents, could be of great use to the Crown. To me. To King Viserys." It was a bold offer, an attempt to anchor the restless Daemon, to bring him into the fold of Raegon's subtly controlled court, rather than leave him a wild card. Daemon said nothing, but a flicker of something, perhaps surprise, perhaps grudging acknowledgment, crossed his face.
The Bargain for Vhagar's Future
The day of the funeral was a blur of black attire, tear-streaked faces, and hushed eulogies. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the Velaryon crypts, Raegon found himself walking with Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, "The Queen Who Never Was," Laena's grieving mother. Her face was etched with sorrow, but her gaze remained sharp and unwavering.
"It is a tragedy, Prince Raegon," Rhaenys said, her voice heavy. "To lose a daughter. To lose a rider to the greatest dragon of them all." Her eyes flickered towards the sky, where Vhagar could occasionally be seen circling, a lonely, immense silhouette against the twilight.
Raegon nodded. "Indeed, Princess. Vhagar is a powerful force. She will need a new rider." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "My half-brother, Aemond, has felt a longing for a dragon since childhood. He is disciplined, ambitious, and strong in will. He would honor Laena's memory by claiming Vhagar."
Rhaenys turned to him, her expression unreadable. "A Hightower's son? To claim Laena's dragon?" There was a hint of frost in her tone.
"A Targaryen, Princess," Raegon corrected smoothly, "by King Viserys's blood. And he is under my direct tutelage. He has learned patience and respect. He would claim her, not with insolence, but with reverence. Of course, out of respect for Laena and for yourself, he will wait until the mourning is fully over. There will be no rash actions, I assure you."
Rhaenys considered him, her gaze piercing. "And what would such respect entail, Prince Raegon?"
Raegon met her gaze without flinching. "Your granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena, are without dragons suited to their stature. I would offer them two eggs from Syrax's next clutch. My wife, Rhaenyra, holds her dear, and her clutches are known to hatch strong dragons. It is a gesture of kin, for the continued strength of both our houses, and for the respectful transfer of a great legacy."
Rhaenys's lips tightened, then relaxed. It was a fair offer. Dragon eggs were priceless, and two strong hatchlings for her granddaughters would secure their place in the sky. It would also tie them more closely to Raegon's direct line. She nodded slowly. "Very well, Prince Raegon. If your brother proves himself worthy and waits with due reverence... then let him attempt to claim Vhagar. And I shall hold you to your word regarding the eggs."
Raegon inclined his head. "You have it, Princess." The Shadow King had just secured the greatest living dragon for his ambitious half-brother, solidified his connection to the Velaryons, and subtly advanced his intricate grand design, all amidst the solemnity of a funeral. The whispers of the walls knew his name.
Now that the funeral is underway and the bargain for Vhagar has been struck