The first to step into the council chamber was the envoy himself.
Two attendants followed behind him.
He appeared to be around thirty years old, tall and straight-backed.
What drew the eye most was his appearance—classic Valyrian features.
Long silver hair, pale skin, sharply defined and handsome facial contours, and a pair of clear blue eyes.
He did not possess the violet eyes commonly seen among House Targaryen, yet the combination of silver hair and blue eyes was still unmistakable proof of Valyrian blood.
"King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm—Your Grace Viserys."
The envoy spoke in fluent Common Tongue.
He placed his right hand over his chest and bowed slightly, his etiquette thorough yet not servile.
"I am Drazenko Rogare. By the command of the Archon of Lys—my elder brother, Lysandro Rogare—I have come to pay my respects to Your Grace, and to bring with me the friendship and greetings of the Triarchy."
Standing at the king's side, Aemond observed the envoy with a calm gaze.
House Rogare…
Valyrian blood, yet no ability to ride dragons.
Rising in Lys purely through commercial acumen and political maneuvering.
Now counted among the great families that held true power within that Free City.
Drazenko Rogare straightened, his ice-blue eyes slowly sweeping across those present in the hall.
His gaze lingered for a moment on Otto, the Hand of the King.
Then it shifted to Aemond, standing beside the king.
Within those blue eyes flickered scrutiny, curiosity, and appraisal.
"Welcome to King's Landing, Drazenko Rogare."
Viserys nodded, gesturing for an attendant to bring a seat for the envoy.
"Please, sit. You have come a long way, and the road has no doubt been arduous."
"Thank you for Your Grace's consideration."
Drazenko took his seat upon the carved chair brought by the attendants.
"To set foot upon the soil of Westeros and behold the majesty of the Red Keep is a great honor to me."
After the initial courtesies, Drazenko moved directly to the matter at hand.
"Your Grace, the foremost purpose of my journey is to seek the reopening of trade between the Triarchy and the Seven Kingdoms."
"Since the dispute over the Stepstones began, trade between our two sides has been cut off, and has never resumed."
Drazenko continued earnestly, "Trade should be mutually beneficial, yet as things now stand—"
He shook his head, not continuing further, but his meaning was already plain.
Viserys pondered for a moment. He was not ignorant of the importance of trade.
Yet the conflict between the Triarchy and House Velaryon over the Stepstones had dragged on for many years.
And as the Seven Kingdoms had also declared war upon the Triarchy, there had been no exchange of any kind between the two sides ever since.
The war ultimately ended in a Velaryon victory.
Both sides signed an armistice agreement, yet their relationship remained delicate.
"Trade and commerce are, in themselves, good things," Viserys said slowly.
"But tariffs and the management of sea routes concern the interests of the Crown and the lords of the various ports."
"This matter must still be discussed with the Master of Ships, the Master of Coin, and the relevant lords."
It was a cautious reply—neither a refusal nor an immediate acceptance.
Drazenko seemed to have anticipated this. He smiled and nodded.
"Your Grace considers the matter thoroughly. I have brought detailed proposal documents with me, which will be submitted shortly to the Hand of the King and the assembled ministers."
"I believe that so long as both sides act in good faith, a mutually beneficial arrangement can surely be found."
Then his tone shifted, growing solemn.
"Beyond this, there is another purpose to my journey—one of greater importance."
"On behalf of House Rogare, I formally present a proposal of marriage alliance to the Targaryen royal house."
The council chamber fell silent at once.
A marriage alliance?
Viserys stirred inwardly. House Rogare possessed immense wealth and political influence across the eastern continent.
Their riches could truly be said to rival those of a kingdom.
Viserys fixed his gaze on Drazenko.
"A marriage alliance?"
"House Rogare seeks to bind itself to House Targaryen?"
"Just so, Your Grace," Drazenko replied without hesitation.
"House Rogare carries Valyrian blood. Though it cannot compare to the nobility of House Targaryen, the bloodline has nonetheless remained pure."
"My brother, Lysandro, believes that should our two houses be joined, it would be a fine match—one that would strengthen the bond between us."
He paused, then added, "As a gesture of sincerity, House Rogare is willing to provide a dowry valued at five hundred thousand gold dragons, in coin, jewels, and goods."
"Five hundred thousand gold dragons?!"
The Master of Coin, Lyman, could not help but cry out, while the Master of Laws, Jasper, widened his eyes in shock.
The figure was staggering—enough to stir the heart of any noble.
Otto, the Hand of the King, seemed to have known of this already. There was no trace of surprise on his face.
He merely regarded the king calmly, awaiting his response.
Viserys fell into thought.
A dowry of five hundred thousand gold dragons, coupled with House Rogare's influence in the east—this was indeed a highly tempting alliance.
If it succeeded, it would not only replenish the royal treasury, but also open new avenues for the Crown upon the eastern continent.
It might even… to a certain extent, check the influence of House Velaryon across the Narrow Sea.
"I have felt the sincerity of House Rogare," Viserys said at last.
"But a marriage alliance is no trivial matter. May I ask—which of my children does your house have in mind?"
Drazenko shifted his gaze toward Aemond and said, "Your Grace, Prince Aemond."
He dipped his head slightly.
"My youngest sister, the legitimate daughter of House Rogare, is named Alyn Rogare. She is thirteen years of age—remarkable in appearance, properly educated, and fluent in several tongues."
"Moreover, she is close in age to Prince Aemond, and our bloodlines are well matched…"
Hearing this, Aemond remained silent, calmly meeting Drazenko's faintly smiling gaze.
Viserys was clearly weighing the proposal as well.
He looked toward Aemond, his expression complex. If the marriage were to succeed, the realm would gain an ally in House Rogare, which held power over Lys…
"Aemond," Viserys finally said, his tone gentle, "what do you think? This proposal from House Rogare—"
"I refuse."
Aemond spoke clearly, cutting off the king mid-sentence.
The council chamber fell into deathly silence.
All eyes turned toward Aemond. Shock and confusion appeared on the face of Otto, the Hand of the King.
Such generous terms—why refuse?
Drazenko Rogare raised an eyebrow slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed his ice-blue eyes, but it vanished almost at once, replaced by composure.
The other ministers wore varied expressions.
Viserys himself was taken aback. He had given Aemond so much—lands, coin, the right to attend councils before the Iron Throne—almost indulgent favor without reserve.
And now, with such an advantageous marriage placed before him, this son refused without a moment's hesitation?
"Aemond," Viserys said, a trace of displeasure entering his voice, "Drazenko has come a great distance on behalf of House Rogare, bearing sincere intent."
"A marriage alliance is a matter of a lifetime. To reject it without consideration—can that be called prudent?"
"Father," Aemond turned to face the king directly, his violet eyes unwavering, "this is not a rash decision."
At his reply, King Viserys did not press further, only knitting his brow.
Drazenko Rogare smiled faintly. His purpose in coming had always been Aemond—this young prince was the rider of Vhagar. Being refused did not anger him.
He gestured to the attendants behind him. A guard stepped forward, carrying an exquisitely crafted long box of sandalwood, and opened the lid.
Inside lay a finely rendered parchment painting. Drazenko personally unrolled it and held it up with both hands, presenting it to the king and to Aemond.
The painting depicted a young girl. She sat upon a stone bench in a garden, clad in a pale blue gauze dress. Long silver-white hair fell like a waterfall to her waist, adorned with small pearls from Lys.
Her features were as delicate as if carved by a sculptor, her skin pale to the point of translucence. Clear blue eyes held a calm serenity, and a faint smile rested upon her lips.
Though still young, the promise of striking beauty was already evident.
"This is my youngest sister, Alyn Rogare," Drazenko said with evident pride.
"In Lys she is known as the Moon of Lys, and she has no lack of suitors."
The girl in the painting was indeed beautiful.
That cool, noble bearing bore a faint resemblance to members of House Targaryen.
Several people in the hall showed looks of appreciation; even Viserys could not help but linger on the portrait a moment longer.
"Aemond," the king said, his tone softening somewhat, "what do you think—"
"Father, I refuse," Aemond said again.
This time, even Drazenko Rogare's expression darkened slightly.
He rolled up the painting and fixed his blue eyes directly on Aemond.
"Prince, may I ask the reason? Is it that she is not worthy of you, or do you hold some dissatisfaction toward House Rogare?"
Aemond replied calmly, "Aegon has not yet entered into a marriage alliance. As the second son, how could I overstep the eldest and marry first?"
Hearing Aemond's explanation, Viserys fell silent.
Though being refused on the spot left Drazenko Rogare with an unsightly expression, and his original aim had not been achieved, a second thought followed quickly.
Marrying Alyn to Aegon, the eldest son of the Greens, was also acceptable.
He rose to his feet.
"Your Grace, Prince Aemond's words are not without reason. We will not press the matter."
"What of Aegon and Alyn?"
Otto, the Hand of the King, stood as well, seeking to smooth things over.
"Your Grace, since the prince has no wish to marry at present, perhaps… Aegon could be considered?"
Viserys was still thinking. Using Aegon for this alliance was not a poor choice—it could be seen as compensation to this eldest son.
Drazenko and Otto exchanged a look, as though some tacit understanding had been reached.
Drazenko turned back to Viserys and bowed once more.
"Your Grace, what is your decision?"
Viserys drew several deep breaths, striving to steady his emotions.
An alliance between Aegon and Alyn Rogare—he had already considered the consequences such a match might bring…
He glanced again at Otto, whose eyes held a note of entreaty.
"Your Grace, you once promised Queen Alicent that when Helaena came of age, she and Aegon would be betrothed…"
"But now you have given Helaena in marriage to Jacaerys, and Aegon can scarcely find a better match—"
"Very well."
Viserys waved his hand wearily.
"Let it be as you say, Hand. The marriage alliance between Aegon and Alyn Rogare—"
"The detailed negotiations will also be handled by the Hand."
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