89 AC. King's Landing.
Clear skies hung over Blackwater Bay, and a westerly wind blowing from the mainland filled the sails, turning the water restless and flecking it with small whitecaps. A few miles from King's Landing, where the bay widened to grant ample room for maneuvers, The Sea Snake drifted. Its deck was a hive of concentrated labor: sailors secured rigging, officers barked commands, and the heavy vessel rocked rhythmically upon the waves.
Corlys Velaryon stood at the stern, squinting against the bright sun. The wind tugged at his silver hair, pulled back into a tight knot, but the Master of Ships gaze remained fixed, anchored to the line of vessels sailing in column off the starboard bow. These were ships of the Royal Fleet - the very ones that, only a month ago, had been undergoing repairs in the capital's docks.
"Behold the Queen's Wrath," Corlys said, gesturing toward the galley leading the center of the formation. "Two weeks ago, she could not have executed such maneuvers with this much grace. These repairs were necessary, yet they are but a temporary measure. These old hulks are well enough for patrolling the coast, but they are not fit for what awaits us in the Stepstones."
Beside him, maintaining a flawless military bearing, stood Ser Adam. His hand rested upon the hilt of his sword, his eyes vigilantly scanning not the ships, but the perimeter of the deck. A short distance away, Princess Rhaenys stood by the rail. The wind whipped her hair, but she paid it no mind, watching with keen interest as the ships practiced their turns. Her presence at these exercises was no accident, having learned of Corlys's plans the previous evening, she had declared her desire to see the state of the fleet with her own eyes. Naturally, she was accompanied by Princess Viserra, whose presence brought a touch of courtly grace to the grim military atmosphere, though Viserra herself strove to appear serious and engaged.
"They execute the maneuver in unison," Rhaenys noted, gauging the distance between the hulls. "How much time was spent forcing the captains to listen to one another, rather than their own pride?"
"Far too much, Princess," Corlys replied. "But discipline at sea is a matter of life and death. If a single ship falters during a turn, she exposes her flank to a ram or blocks the line of fire for her own kin. Do you see those scorpions on the decks? We spent three days merely teaching the men to reload them amidst a heavy swell without maiming one another."
Viserra, standing a little further off beside Ser Ryam Redwyne, listened intently to their conversation. Ser Ryam, clad in his white armor, seemed a statue carved from marble, his gaze constantly scanning the deck for any threat to the royal personages.
"Lord Corlys," Viserra spoke up, "you speak as though a decisive battle looms on the morrow. Yet the Triarchy is merely consolidating its position for now. Do you truly believe they would dare an open confrontation with the might of the Seven Kingdoms?"
Corlys turned to her. His eyes reflected a cold resolve and absolute certainty.
"The Triarchy has already decided, Princess. They simply choose to act through proxies. Every pirate who seizes a merchant cog flying the banner of a crown subject receives gold from Lys or Tyrosh. They are testing our mettle. If we show weakness now, in a few years they will close the passage through the islands entirely. That is why the King has charged me with a task: within three years, four at the most, I must build a hundred new ships. Not refitted old galleys, but new, formidable vessels capable of carrying more men-at-arms and heavy engines."
"A hundred ships in four years," Rhaenys repeated thoughtfully. "That will require a staggering amount of timber and shipwrights. Every shipyard in Driftmark will have to be dedicated solely to this order."
"Precisely. And that is what occupies my mind every moment I am not upon this deck. Diplomacy is a fine thing, but only when it is backed by a fleet and an army. The Triarchy understands only the language of force. Only when they see that the trade routes through the Stepstones are guarded by real steel will their appetites wane. The King has entrusted me with this fleet, and I intend to prove worthy of that trust. As I said, we have three, perhaps four years at best, to launch a hundred ships. It is a titanic labor, but I have faith in my masters and craftsmen. They will see it done."
Viserra drew closer as well. Her interest was of a different nature - she was captivated by the inner energy of this man, his ability to command so many men and engines of war with such apparent ease. She watched him relay commands via signal flags, noting how he spotted the slightest slack in the formation. His charisma fascinated her.
The maneuvers continued for several more hours. The ships converged and broke away, practicing signals by flag and horn. Corlys spared neither officer nor sailor, demanding precision in every movement. As the sun began its descent toward the west, he gave the order to return.
The journey back to King's Landing took less time than anticipated. The wind was fair, and The Sea Snake cut through the waves with ease, heading toward the city's towering walls. When the flagship moored in the royal docks, the sun had begun its slow crawl downward, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
"Princesses," Corlys addressed the ladies as they disembarked under the guard of Guardsmen and Kingsguard. "The day has been long and, I suspect, wearying. Traveling to the Red Keep through the city at this hour is a dubious pleasure given the crowded streets. I invite you to dine at my manse here, on Visenya's Hill. It is quite near, and far more peaceful than the noisy halls of the palace."
Rhaenys and Viserra exchanged a look. The offer was tempting, especially since official dinners at court were often stifled by tedious protocol.
"A manse on Visenya's Hill?" Rhaenys asked. "I did not know House Velaryon had established itself in the city."
"I acquired the house some years ago," Corlys explained, leading them through the cobbled streets, which here, unlike in Flea Bottom, were clean and broad. "I required a base in the capital - a place where I might receive guests and conduct business without fear of prying ears. Besides, it offers the finest view of the bay."
The Velaryon manse on Visenya's Hill stood surrounded by the homes of wealthy merchants and petty lords. It was a stout building of grey stone with high, narrow windows and a heavy oak door carved with a seahorse. Inside, the guests were met by a spacious hall with floors of polished stone covered in soft carpets brought from Yi Ti. The walls were adorned with maps of Essos and Westeros drawn on fine vellum, and a collection of exotic shells displayed on ebony shelves.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable in the small gallery," Corlys said, gesturing toward a room with panoramic windows. "While the cooks prepare the meal, I shall show you the house. Ser Ryam, Ser Adam, I insist you join us at the table."
Ser Ryam Redwyne touched the pommel of his sword and bowed politely.
"I thank you for the honor, Lord Corlys, but my duty is to guard the princesses. It does not befit a guardsman to sit at table while on duty."
"My house is no less secure than the Red Keep, Ser Ryam," Corlys replied softly but firmly. "My own men hold the perimeter, and your swords will be closer to your charges if you are seated beside them. Furthermore, I wish to discuss certain matters regarding coastal defenses with you. Your counsel as a knight of House Redwyne is of great value to me. Adam, this applies to you as well. Leave formalities at the door."
After a moment's hesitation and an exchange of glances with the princesses, the knights accepted the invitation.
While the kitchen was a hive of activity, Corlys gave his guests a tour. He showed them the library, which housed rare scrolls from Asshai and ancient tomes on navigation, and the armory, where blades of fine steel and exotic weapons from distant lands rested on racks. Viserra looked upon the collection of shells and curious minerals in glass cases with great interest.
"Do you live here?" she asked as they passed the terrace.
"I stay here on occasion," Corlys answered. "I find rest in this manse when I grow weary of the bustle of the Red Keep."
When they descended to the dining hall, the table was already laid. In a corner of the vaulted room, resting upon a rug, lay Ares. The black panther lazily raised his head as the guests entered. Servants had just brought him a large, well-roasted leg of mutton. Ares began his meal with gusto, paying the humans no mind, though Ser Ryam Redwyne instinctively tensed at the sight of the predator in such proximity.
The table was set for five. Silver candelabras stood in the center, and the air was thick with aromas that made even the stern Ser Ryam's nose twitch.
"The cooks have outdone themselves today," Corlys remarked, pulling out a chair for Viserra. "It is well that I sent a messenger ahead of our arrival."
The first course was a spicy sea bass, baked in salt with herbs from Essos. Beside it were bowls of golden rice seasoned with saffron and dried orange zest. Saffron, one of the rarest spices in the world, gave the dish a royal hue and an unmistakable fragrance.
The second course, a surprise, was lamb stewed in a thick sauce of dates, cinnamon, and cloves. The meat had simmered in heavy ceramic pots until it was so tender it could be eaten with a spoon. The combination of sweet dried fruits and sharp spices was unusual for Westeros, yet perfectly balanced.
Ser Adam and Ser Ryam ate with focus, appreciative of the flavors but never forgetting their vigilance. Viserra, meanwhile, ate small morsels, her eyes never leaving Corlys.
The conversation flowed easily. Rhaenys questioned Corlys on the logistics of the new fleet, while Viserra, though she participated, often found herself simply listening to the cadence of his voice. She liked the way he spoke - confidently, without needless embellishment, like a man who knew exactly what he wanted from life.
"Tell us of your childhood, Lord Corlys," Viserra requested once the main courses were finished and servants brought freshly brewed tea. "It is difficult to imagine you as a child simply playing upon the shore."
Corlys leaned back in his chair, a distant look entering his eyes.
"My childhood was spent amidst the cries of gulls and the thrum of the surf," he began, reminiscing. "There were three of us brothers, and we were always in motion. Vaelor was the youngest, he always strove to keep pace with us, proving he was just as strong. Daeron was the hot-blooded one, a true Velaryon in spirit - quick and unpredictable. We spent whole days at the shipyards of Driftmark, watching ships being born from timber. I remember how we argued over who would be the first to swim to the crags in foul weather. Our grandfather, Lord Daemon, did not forbid it, though my lady mother always scolded us for our recklessness. Grandfather said the sea would take those who feared it, but those who stood tall would be worthy of the name Velaryon."
He took a sip of hot tea, and his voice grew slightly lower.
"We were forced to grow up early. Our father, Lord Corwyn, died when I was five years old. Daeron was three then, and Vaelor was scarcely a year old. They had no memory of our father, and I had to step in and replace him for them in many ways. At five, I already felt the weight of responsibility for my younger brothers."
Corlys took a breath and continued his tale:
"We learned navigation before we learned to read. At twelve, Vaelor managed to stow away on a merchant galley bound for Pentos. We searched for him for a fortnight and found him already in Essos. He told us then that he wished to see the world with his own eyes, not through my stories."
"It is a heavy sorrow - to lose a father so young," Viserra noted softly.
"It made us stronger and bound us together," Corlys replied. "We built rafts and dreamed of discovery. My brothers and I have always been close, though after my father's death, I became something more to them than just an elder brother. I had to guide them."
"And what of your own games?" Rhaenys asked. "Did you truly have no time for ordinary childhood fancies?"
"When we were very young, our fancies were treks into the sea caves at low tide and searching for the wreckage of old ships," Corlys answered. "We imagined we were finding the treasures of Old Valyria."
"And what of you two in your youth?" Corlys turned his gaze to the princesses.
Rhaenys smiled and glanced at Viserra, who blushed at her niece's look.
"We were inseparable. If you see mention in the annals of the Red Keep of missing tarts from the kitchens, or how someone dyed the Grand Maester's beard bright blue - know that it was us."
"Viserra was always the instigator," Rhaenys added, further embarrassing her aunt. "She knew every secret passage in the castle better than any soul. We often stole away to the library or to Dragonmont when we visited Dragonstone. I remember sitting on the very edge of the cliffs, looking out to sea, and I promised her that one day we would fly to the ends of the world together."
"Rhaenys was my protector," Viserra said softly, her tone turning more serious. "When the ladies of the court tried to drill me in needlework and manners that felt deathly dull, Rhaenys would simply take my hand and lead me away. A Crown Princess's status has its boons," Viserra recalled with a smile. "We created our own world within the Red Keep. A world where there were no strict rules and where we could truly be ourselves. We are the same even now - two sides of a single coin."
Viserra looked at Rhaenys with warmth, and Rhaenys returned the gaze with an equally sincere smile. It was plain that their bond was deeper than mere blood, they were true friends in a world where sincerity was a rare coin indeed.
"That is a precious thing," Corlys said gravely. "To have one beside you whom you trust without reservation is a great fortune, especially in King's Landing."
The talk flowed as easily as fine wine. Corlys spoke of the strange beasts he had seen in the jungles of Sothoryos, the golden roofs of Yi Ti, and the Titan of Braavos. The princesses listened with bated breath. To them, raised in the golden cage of the capital, his tales were a window into a vast, uncharted world.
Viserra found herself realizing that she liked not just what he said, but the way he said it. Without boastfulness, with the dignity of a man who had seen the farthest corners of the world and returned home. Her initial interest in him as a brilliant man began to evolve into something deeper and more personal. She noticed a scar upon his hand and wondered in what battle he had earned it. She caught his glances, trying to discern his thoughts in those moments when he fell silent.
The dinner drew to a close. Ares, in his corner, had finished his meal and was now meticulously licking a paw, occasionally watching the humans with his amber eyes.
"The sun has long since set," Corlys remarked, looking out the window where the lights of ships flickered in the darkness of the bay. "It is time I returned you home, lest the King decide I have abducted his favorite daughter and granddaughter."
"I thank you for the evening, Lord Corlys," Viserra said, rising and smoothing her gown. "It was one of the finest dinners of my life."
They left the house. Servants had already prepared horses for the princesses and the knights. "I shall escort you to the Red Keep," Corlys said. He had decided to accompany the princesses and stay the night in the quarters allocated to him in the palace.
As they began their descent from Visenya's Hill, Ares padded out in front. He walked with a soft, springy gait, his black form nearly invisible in the shadows of the houses, though his eyes glowed in the light of the occasional lanterns. He prowled ahead of the horses, constantly listening and scenting the air, ready at any moment to spring to the defense of his companions. His presence created a zone of absolute safety around the group, even the most desperate denizens of the capital's streets chose to steer clear upon seeing the great cat.
At the gates of the Red Keep, they came to a halt. The watch quickly identified the party and opened the heavy gates.
"We thank you for a wonderful day and meal, Lord Corlys," Rhaenys said, dismounting her horse. "It was enlightening and... delicious."
"It was my pleasure to host you," Corlys replied with a smile. "I hope this is not the last time you grace my humble home with your presence."
Viserra lingered a moment longer than the others. In the torchlight, her face seemed particularly soft.
"Thank you once more for your hospitality, Lord Corlys," she said, looking him straight in the eyes. Her voice was low, meant for him alone. "I hope our walks in the godswood will not cease because of your preoccupation with the fleet."
"For Princess Viserra, I shall always find time in my schedule," Corlys answered, bowing slightly.
Corlys took a step closer and spoke in a hushed tone, so that only she could hear: "Princess, since we have spent this day with such openness... I ask of you, when we are not at official functions, do not call me 'Lord Corlys.' Simply Corlys. It would bring me pleasure."
Viserra smiled faintly, a spark flashing in her eyes.
"It is a fair bargain," she replied quietly, her gaze never wavering from his. "If I am to forgo your title in our confidence, you must do the same. 'Princess' sounds like a high wall you build between us every time you utter the word." She paused for a heartbeat, her voice growing even softer. "Since I am to call you simply Corlys... then you must forget your courtly ceremonies as well. Call me Viserra. That is my condition. Do you accept?"
Corlys looked at her not as the King's daughter, but as a woman whose will and character were a match for his own. A flash of respect crossed his eyes, mingled with something warmer and more personal.
"I accept," his voice was even quieter now, almost merging with the night wind whistling through the castle arches. "Viserra."
Her name, spoken in his deep, steady voice, sounded unfamiliar to the princess, yet strangely right.
"Until next we meet... Corlys," she nodded, clearly pleased with her small triumph. Giving him one last parting smile, she turned and followed Rhaenys into the depths of the Red Keep.
Corlys remained at the gates, watching her go. Ares, sensing the conversation was over, silently approached his master and sat beside him, his black fur shimmering in the torchlight. The Sea Snake rested a hand upon the panther's head, feeling the warmth of the beast beneath his fingers, and watched the princesses vanish into the castle for a long while before heading to his own quarters.
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A/N
Read ahead on P@treon!
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