89 AC. Driftmark
Corlys sat in his grandfather's solar, which was now his, and looked at the family gathered before him: his mother, his brothers, and their wives. Grief was etched on every face. For so cruel a world, Daemon Velaryon had been a rare good father, grandfather, and man.
"Is everything ready for the funeral procession?" Corlys asked Daeron, who had been seeing to it.
"Everything is ready, brother," Daeron answered tersely, in the manner he had picked up from their grandfather. "Lords are still arriving in the city, but all will be ready by tomorrow."
"Many lords have sent letters of condolence and written that they intend to come and pay their respects," Veylor added.
"That was to be expected," Corlys said. "Grandfather lived an honorable life and earned the respect of the lords." He drew a breath. "Yesterday I received a letter from King's Landing."
"Has the royal family actually deigned to send us their condolences?" Daeron asked, making no effort to hide his sarcasm.
"The letter does offer their condolences," Corlys confirmed. "But more importantly, the royal family intends to come to Driftmark to see their uncle off on his final journey," he finished grimly.
"I wonder why they've suddenly remembered we're kin. For twenty years they never once visited their so-called uncle, and now, having seen that our family has surpassed every other great house, they suddenly recall that we share the same blood," Daeron said, unable to hold back, voicing what everyone in the room was thinking.
Corlys could not reproach his brother; every word was true. Fourteen years ago, their father had died of the plague that claimed so many lives, among them that of Princess Daenerys. The Velaryons had sent a letter of condolence to the capital then, but received nothing in return. Were they not kin? Yes, the king and queen had lost a daughter. But Grandfather Daemon had lost a son and more than half his family. Only they had survived; every other man of House Velaryon had perished in the plague. And despite all that, the Targaryens had not sent so much as a letter, even for propriety's sake.
"Try to keep your feelings hidden in front of the Targaryens, my son," their mother chided Daeron. "Though I agree with you, insulting the royal family will bring us nothing good."
"I agree with Mother," Corlys said. "And I expect all of you to conduct yourselves as befits our family," he added gravely. "I'm certain they want something from us, and soon we'll learn what."
"As you say, brother. We've never let you down, and we don't intend to start on such a sorrowful day for our family," Veylor said, backing his elder brother.
Before Corlys could thank him, a roar sounded, one that only a single kind of creature could make: a dragon.
"It seems our guests have arrived," he said, looking out the window. "Come, let us greet the royal family."
POV: Alysanne Targaryen
Alysanne flew on Silverwing, the she-dragon who had been her companion all her life. Beside her flew her husband Jaehaerys on Vermithor and her sons: Aemon on Caraxes and Baelon on Vhagar. The news of Uncle Daemon's passing had saddened her. Unlike her husband, she bore her uncle no grudge for failing to protect her brothers and sister from Maegor, yet she had scarcely kept in touch with her mother's family. Now she understood what a great mistake that had been. While she and her husband had worked with so many houses to unite the realm after Maegor's brutal reign, they had pushed the Velaryons away through inaction and neglect. Over the past decade, the Velaryons had swiftly grown in strength and power, all thanks to her uncle's grandson. Young as he was, Corlys Velaryon had single-handedly raised his family up and set it alongside the Lannisters and the Tyrells. Many lords refused to admit it, but the Velaryons had become the wealthiest house in Westeros. Their master of whisperers had confirmed that Velaryon influence reached far beyond Westeros's shores. Alysanne meant to mend relations with her late mother's family by any means necessary. She and Jaehaerys were growing old, and their heirs would need the support of so powerful a house.
As they drew near Driftmark, Alysanne could not believe her eyes. The city spread around the castle was vast and breathtakingly beautiful. Even from on high she could see the splendor of Spicetown, and she could not help but envy it. King's Landing could not begin to compare with its neatly paved streets and fine buildings of white stone. She could also make out the so-called University of Driftmark, a building no shorter than the Citadel in Oldtown. The maesters had been deeply displeased when word of the building and its purpose had spread. They had wanted the royal family to stop the Velaryons from opening the university, but Alysanne had managed to talk her husband out of it. As they flew closer, she could take in the castle itself, and she did not like what she saw. Nothing familiar remained of the old Driftmark; in its place rose an entirely rebuilt, majestic seat whose beauty outshone even the Red Keep. Alysanne glanced at her husband, and from his pensive face she knew he was thinking the same thing. When they landed in the castle yard, only one thought filled her mind: the Velaryons had to be bound to them at any cost.
In the yard, her late uncle's family awaited them, led by the renowned Corlys Velaryon. Alysanne had to admit the young man was well built and rather tall, which lent weight to the rumors of his skill with a blade. Looking more closely, she realized with some chagrin that in looks, Corlys was a match for any Targaryen, her own sons included.
"Welcome to Driftmark, Your Grace," he said firmly, bowing his head to Jaehaerys.
"I am glad to finally meet you, Lord Corlys, though under such sorrowful circumstances," her husband replied evenly. "We deeply mourn the passing of our uncle Daemon and offer you our condolences."
"Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace," the young lord replied, his eyes glinting.
"Allow me to present my wife, Queen Alysanne Targaryen," Jaehaerys continued. "And these are my sons: Prince Aemon Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, and his brother, Baelon Targaryen."
"A pleasure to meet you, my princes, and welcome to my castle," Corlys replied courteously. "Allow me to present my family. These are my brothers, Daeron and Veylor, and their lovely wives, Thea of House Maegyr and Elise of House Velroy." He gestured to his brothers and their wives, who hailed from noble houses of Volantis. "And my mother, Alice Velaryon, you already know, I believe."
Seizing the moment, Alysanne spoke up. "Yes, we do. You're as beautiful as ever, dear Alice," she said graciously, paying tribute to the beauty of a woman who had already turned forty.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Alice replied politely. "Please, come into the castle, all of you. The servants have already prepared your chambers, and I'm sure you would like to rest."
"We would gladly accept your hospitality," Alysanne agreed. Rest would certainly do them good.
Many lords and trading partners from Essos came to bid farewell to a man as worthy as Daemon Velaryon. All of Driftmark's vassal houses were there, as were lords from many of the kingdoms. The smallfolk came too, to honor the man who had so improved their lives. The funeral rites of House Velaryon differed from the customs of other houses. Daemon's body was laid upon a richly adorned longship, and each member of the family said their farewells. Corlys gave a moving speech about his grandfather's life and dreams and the role he had played in the history of Westeros. The king might have forgotten that it was Daemon's men who had spirited Alyssa Velaryon, together with Jaehaerys and his sister, off Dragonstone, where Maegor had held them hostage, but Corlys remembered, and he meant to remind everyone of it. Yes, Daemon had not risen against Maegor, fearing for the lives of his family, but it was thanks to his intervention that Jaehaerys was alive and sitting on the throne.
After the speech, Corlys and his brothers launched the longship themselves, with no one's help. When the little vessel had drifted far enough out, Corlys loosed a flaming arrow, and the longship became a true funeral pyre. Then, once the guests had been dismissed, Corlys and the rest of the family performed the burial rite in the new crypt. A lock of Daemon Velaryon's hair was placed in the most honored and richly adorned spot, beside his wife and son.
The Targaryens did not attend this ceremony, but they were shown the crypt all the same; Corlys could not refuse the king's curiosity. The royal family was impressed both by the work that had gone into it and by the meaning the place would hold for generations to come.
As Corlys saw his guests off, Jaehaerys asked the question that had been on his mind since the moment he first saw the two richly decorated swords at Corlys's hip.
"I can't help but notice those fine swords of yours, Lord Corlys. Most skillful work," the king said, plainly hinting that he wished to know where they had come from.
"I found them during my travels, Your Grace, and the crossguards were forged by the smiths of Driftmark," Corlys answered, drawing both blades for all to see.
Gasps rippled through the assembled lords. Ripples ran along the blades, the telltale mark of Valyrian steel. Jaehaerys's eyes narrowed, but his face remained unreadable. In all of Westeros, only one family possessed two Valyrian steel blades, and that was the Targaryens. Now the Velaryons, having gained their wealth, had also gained the prestige of owning two such swords. Three dragons and a seahorse were skillfully worked into each hilt. The swords were nearly identical, differing only in color: one dark as night itself, the other white as a clear day.
"I've named them Seafoam and Stormbreaker," he told the royal family.
"Fitting names for such fine blades, Lord Corlys. I hear you fight with two swords. I hope we will see your skill at the Red Keep before long," Queen Alysanne interjected, hoping to end the visit on a pleasant note.
"It would be my honor, Your Grace," he replied with a smile.
"I'm glad to hear it, my lord. And now, I believe, it's time we returned to the capital. It was a joy to see my mother's home again. Fare you well, Lord Corlys, and expect to hear from us," the queen said.
"Fare you well, Your Grace," Corlys replied courteously.
With that, the Targaryens mounted their dragons and soared into the sky, setting a course for King's Landing.