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Dusk at Driftmark.
The sky was stained gold and red, like a bruise healing over the horizon. The sea breeze carried salt, moisture, and a chill that bit through even heavy cloaks.
In the Dragonpit of High Tide.
The silhouette of the Red Queen, Meleys, glided steadily from the western horizon.
Her scales were a pure, vibrant scarlet. Her size was smaller than Vhagar's, only a quarter as large, yet still enough to make mortals tremble.
She landed with grace and precision, showing the amazing rapport she has built over the years with her rider.
Rhaenys Targaryen, "The Queen Who Never Was," unbuckled the saddle straps and dismounted nimbly from the dragon's back.
She wore a suit of deep silver light armor suitable for riding, covered by a dark red cloak.
She was travel-worn but in high spirits.
She turned and reached out to touch Meleys' lowered, warm head.
The dragon's breath was heavy and warm, smelling of sulfur and ash.
Rhaenys's palm gently rubbed the rough, rock-like scales near the dragon's snout, whispering something in High Valyrian.
Meleys let out a satisfied rumble from her throat, her large copper vertical pupils half-closed, enjoying her rider's touch.
"Hard work, old girl," Rhaenys said softly.
"The wind was a bit strong today, wasn't it?"
Meleys nudged her palm gently with the tip of her snout.
At that moment, Rhaenys noticed a tall figure waiting quietly at the edge of the pit.
Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake. His grey-blue eyes watched her with a hint of disapproval, but mostly with silent concern.
Rhaenys patted Meleys' neck, gesturing for her to go rest. The Red Queen let out a low moan and lumbered toward her lair.
Only then did Rhaenys walk toward her husband. Her pace was steady, showing no fatigue from the long flight.
"Corlys," she said as she reached him, looking up slightly.
"Are you waiting for me?"
Corlys looked at Rhaenys with a faint smile.
"Every time you fly alone, I have to wait until you land safely before my heart can truly be at ease. Rhaenys, we are no longer young. Such long flights... are they too risky?"
Rhaenys raised an eyebrow.
"Risky? Corlys, a dragonrider's destiny should be the sky. Not lying on a sickbed at the end, having the last bit of dignity corroded by pain and potions."
Corlys was silent for a moment. He knew well that his wife's innate pride and love for the sky could not be tamed.
He sighed. "I'm just afraid... of losing you, Rhaenys."
"I am here, Corlys." Rhaenys reached out and squeezed her husband's hand, a hand accustomed to the helm, calloused yet still strong.
Corlys nodded and took the opportunity to change the subject, walking slowly with her toward the castle.
"Some voices in the family have been cropping up again lately," Corlys said in a low voice.
Rhaenys's expression darkened slightly.
"Still that bastardy business?"
"Mm." Corlys looked ahead.
"My brother Vaemond and some of the cadet branches are whispering in private."
Rhaenys gave a cold laugh.
"Without you, how could House Velaryon have amassed wealth that rivals nations? You built the strongest navy Westeros has ever seen. And now, these people want to usurp your achievements."
Corlys shook his head. "They are too superficial. What if Lucerys and Joffrey are not of my blood?"
He continued, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
"I have already made arrangements. Lucerys and Joffrey will marry the daughters of Daemon and Laena, our granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena."
Rhaenys paused slightly, giving her husband a complex look.
Baela and Rhaena possessed the distinct silver hair and purple eyes of Old Valyria, traits shared by both Targaryens and Velaryons.
Corlys continued steadily.
"This way, our next generation will also be descendants with Velaryon blood. As for Jacaerys," he paused, "Rhaenyra has personally promised me that in the future, the Queen of his heir will also be a daughter from House Velaryon."
Rhaenys nodded slowly.
The Sea Snake did not voice his deepest calculations.
Whether the bloodline was biologically pure or the hair and eye color matched was not the most critical issue in his long political career.
What mattered was that these three boys identified as Velaryons, they had dragons, and they were Rhaenyra's heirs.
Through marriage alliances, more Velaryon descendants would be bound to the Iron Throne.
House Velaryon would not just be the Lord of the Tides.
They would quietly allow their bloodline to merge deeply into the blood of the dragon.
They could achieve the goal of "borrowing a hen to lay eggs", becoming the second Dragonlord family in truth.
Of course, he need not reveal these more far-reaching ambitions entirely to his beloved wife.
Suddenly, Corlys changed the subject, his tone rare and solemn.
"Otto, our Hand of the King... it seems he still hasn't given up."
"Oh?" Rhaenys was curious.
"Our spies in King's Landing sent back word that Otto has sent envoys to the Kingdom of the Three Daughters."
"The Triarchy?" Rhaenys's brow furrowed tightly.
"Didn't they sign a truce with us and give up their rights to the Stepstones?"
"A treaty is paper; interest is gold," Corlys said coldly.
"It seems our Lord Hand is not satisfied with only seeking allies within the Seven Kingdoms. Now, the Triarchy has sent envoys who will soon arrive in King's Landing, ostensibly to restart trade."
"He wants to bring in outside help? Using the Triarchy's fleet to counter us?" Rhaenys sensed the gravity of the situation.
The Velaryon fleet was powerful, but if the Greens allied with the Triarchy, the Narrow Sea would become a war zone instantly.
"Most likely," Corlys admitted.
"But what I worry about more is not the Triarchy's warships."
He stopped and looked at his wife.
"Rhaenys, we have dragons and the strongest navy. But my greatest concern is the place where House Hightower is rooted: Oldtown."
"It is the scholars of the Citadel, and the Septons in the Starry Sept, who can influence the thoughts of millions of believers. Public opinion, faith, knowledge... these invisible forces are sometimes more terrifying than swords and dragonfire."
"House Hightower has managed Oldtown for a thousand years; their roots are deep, and half the nobles of the Reach follow their lead. If the Faith and the Citadel push from behind..."
Rhaenys was silent.
Targaryen rule relied on dragons, but they had never fully controlled the ancient powers of the Faith and the Maesters.
After a long while, Rhaenys finally spoke.
"At least... the betrothal between Jacaerys and Helaena stands. This was personally promised by the King."
"If the marriage alliance can be achieved, it can at least ease the opposition between the Blacks and the Greens. It lets the neutral nobles see the possibility of peace."
"The Hightowers and the Greens wouldn't go as far as to openly oppose the King's will and a marriage that could bring peace, would they?"
Corlys looked up at the last ray of sunset about to be swallowed by the darkness.
"That is exactly what I worry about most, Rhaenys."
He spoke slowly, measuring every word.
"I believe the Greens, especially Otto Hightower, will never accept this marriage. To acknowledge it is to acknowledge the legitimacy of Jacaerys. It destroys the legal basis for them to support Aegon's usurpation in the future."
"Their silence at this moment is likely a tactic. They are waiting, waiting for an opportunity to tear up the contract, or make it impossible to fulfill."
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