Nihilus Filius Et Sacerdos Ch 12: Velaryon V

The Velaryons were long considered as one of the most prosperous houses in the Seven Kingdoms. Their proximity to the Gullet enabled them to trade with Essos with far greater ease than their rivals on the mainland. Long-time supporters of the Targaryens even before the Doom, they allied over their shared Valyrian roots and enjoyed greater affluence under their rule, reaching unheard-of heights after the Nine Voyages of the Sea Snake. I was proud to serve them during that time, and I enjoyed many a night with Lord Corlys poring over tomes and knowledge he salvaged from the eastern shores of the Known World. Yet, with their wealth’s rise so did their ambition, and with ambition comes many a scrutinising eye and wagging tongue. Hidden at first, the whispers and rumors rose like the very tide upon which the Velaryons rode when their association with Albaz Scaleflame and his Lady Ecclesia became known. I myself was privy to these whispers only through second-hand accounts, but most of them painted a picture of the Velaryons grasping what was beyond them, that Corlys Velaryon’s desires had gone too far. Some questioned how they were able to secure their alliance, with hearsay of marriage and fealty floating in the wind. Any attempts by lords and ladies to inquire Lord Corlys or his daughter Laena Velaryon, who was most often at the Valyrian Sorcerer’s side was rebuffed with evasion and fogged answers. Lord Corlys often boasted to me whenever he outplayed a particular nosy individual, such as one Elwyn Frey. The truth of their closeness with their foreign guest was, in many ways, far simpler than most would imagine…

-Dragons, Blood and Magic: A History of the Arcane in Westeros, by Archmaester Monterys

Breaking the fast was always a pleasant tradition for Laena. Her parents insisted that every morning they and her brother would sit in the great hall, her father’s solar, or a reserved spot whenever they traveled and eat while discussing their affairs for the day. Whilst her father always brought up matters of import to their house, asked how she and Laenor were progressing with their lessons, and relayed his expectations, most of the meal was filled with idle conversation. 

In her youth, Laena would speak of dragons and exotic wares from Spicetown, even flowers and butterflies that caught her eye. Her lord father took it all in stride and feigned interest, even as her brother tried to interject while nibbling on his sweetcakes. Even her lady mother, stern as she could be at times, always relaxed during those meals. After Laena had married Daemon, she was determined to ensure that little ritual lived on. Her new husband hadn’t minded, though more often than not, their morning bonding consisted of them riding their respective dragons in the skies of Driftmark or Pentos. When Baela and Rhaena were born, she’d rekindled the tradition as best she could.

One important lesson she took from their morning rituals was observing the mood of her family. While Daemon was rather obvious with his feelings and felt little reason to hide his frustrations and desires from her, her mother and father always remained composed during their meals, no matter how tumultuous whatever circumstance their House was embroiled in. Grave affairs were naturally given their utmost consideration, but even in troubled times, her lord father donned the mask of control perfectly, with the same surety as he steered one of his ships. It was a fun little game, trying to figure out what minor, or even major, business troubled or pleased him, and Laenor’s slight wonderment whenever she told him of her little divinations never ceased to draw a giggle from her.

With her father’s current mood, however, even a blind man could spot the Sea Snake’s giddiness.

“I confess I haven’t seen you this happy in many a moon, Father,” Laena said as she sipped from her goblet. The table in the Velaryon’s dining hall was stacked with their usual comforts of fruit, nuts, and pastries. Laena, her parents, and her daughters were all present - even Laenor, sitting by her side.

“I have little reason not to be!” replied Corlys as he beamed. “Our House has won perhaps the greatest victory since Laenor’s marriage to the princess! We have secured not gold or lands, but friendship! A friendship of those who could hold the key to our House’s ascension! The gods have truly blessed us with their presence!”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes at her husband’s dramatic proclamation but nodded and smiled at Laena. Her dark-blue gown was crowned with a neckline embroidered with seafoam-white fabric, accompanying the elaborate bun that held her silver and black hair. “You lord-father is correct, my daughter. Through your efforts, we have gained a foothold in the court unlike never before.”

“Mother, I know the opportunity and fortune our guests can bring, but I fear you and Father are presuming too early,” Laena pointed out, playing with her fork. “The king has accepted their terms, but we do not know how far he will extend this courtesy.”

Corlys chuckled at her words. “Then you did not pay enough attention to his demeanor, my dear. Had the language barrier not existed, His Grace would have barraged our guests with enough questions to fill our library. I have seen this mood whenever he requested me to regale him with tales of my voyages or when he was gifted a Valyrian relic from one of the free cities. No, His Grace is reeled in, and will accommodate them to satisfy his fascination, unless they or the Queen’s ilk should act outrageously.” He then looked her in the eye and leaned forward. “Which is why the responsibility of preventing either of those outcomes falls to you, my daughter. We have allies in court whom we can rely upon and use to steer around the Hightowers’ influence while ensuring our dear guests do not fall into whatever webs Her Grace and Ser Otto deem to spin. They are too valuable to lose to anyone.”

An understatement if she ever heard one. A boy who could turn into multiple dragons, one of whom swatted Caraxes around like a straw doll, and a girl who possessed the power to soothe said boy’s rage while capable of wielding a weapon that men twice her age couldn’t even move. Not that anyone was brave or even foolish enough to try; there were times she swore a living eye shone from inside the humongous dragon skull. 

“Like the Valyrian gods themselves…” Laenor whispered. 

“Indeed. It is said that Balerion, king of the gods, birthed dragons with his wife Vhagar, shaping them in his image. When the shepherds found the first dragon eggs, Balerion descended from the fiery heavens with the Fourteen at his side, bearing the form of man, and told them of the glory and riches the power of dragons would bring. They were taught the secrets of hatching the dragons, and as one, the Fourteen Gods of Valyria bared their true forms before the awestruck mortals, and Balerion’s wings enshrouded the island beneath their size.”

“On their wings, the mountains you treaded will seem as pebbles, and the world shall kneel,” Laena whispered the words of a long-forgotten passage as her grip unconsciously tightened around her knife. She held regard for both the Valyrian gods and the Seven, and the religion of the dragonlords was a favored topic of discussion between herself and Daemon. He was eager to show her tomes detailing the conquests of the old empire and tales of the power the dragonlords commanded, including their religion. To someone who was raised on fragments of the Valyrian’s history from her mother, those hours of reading and debate were worth more than all the gold under Casterly Rock. 

Lady Ecclesia mentioned they fell out of a magic door…could it be the will of the Valyrian gods? Was Albaz some spawn of Balerion, blessed with divine magics and cast away from his home? Mere speculation at this point…and yet there was a twisted logic to it.

Then, Baela decided to speak, even as she brushed crumbs of lemon cake from her lips. “Grandfather, is Ser Otto the Hand? He was really close to the king.”

“Oh, I know!” exclaimed Rhaena, nearly jumping out of her seat. “Father said Lord Strong was the Hand!”

Laena couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of her two little girls, and her brother did the same. Despite their identical appearances, the two daughters branched far and away from each other, even at their young ages. Rhaena might have taken after herself in looks and demeanor, but Baela had inherited most of their father’s wildness. She’d seen sisters disdain each other for far less, each thinking the other was unworthy, but not her little pearls. They jabbed at each other, teasing and mocking the other’s deficiencies as siblings did, but by the end of the day, their bond would hold strong. 

The only thing missing to complete the familial scene was their father, but alas, Daemon desired to spend time in the yard, with any argument she had falling on deaf ears.

“Your sister is correct, granddaughter. Lyonel Strong has held the position for ten years and counting to admirable performance. I do not know how Otto Hightower wormed his way back into the king’s good graces, but he overstepped his station far too many times yesterday. Alas, His Grace was always reluctant to instigate conflict, especially if it involved old friends.” He leaned back in his chair and a faint grimace crossed his face. “And despite my misgivings, Ser Otto’s words were not unreasonable. My resources and influence are vast, but they are constrained in Oldtown and the Citadel. To dangle such a tempting prospect before them…I understand their acceptance.”

“Why did Lady Ecclesia want you to come with them, mother?” asked Baela with a sparkle in her eyes. “And why can’t we meet them yet? I want to ask her more about her homeland! Did she really kill dragons before? How can she swing that hammer around? What monsters did she fight with it?” 

Laena smiled fondly at her daughter as she babbled on. She was interested in both Albaz and Lady Ecclesia from the day they arrived in Pentos, and when word of her father’s defeat by the girl’s hands reached her, it had taken Laena, Rhaenys and Corlys’ combined efforts to persuade her and her sister not rush into their rooms and bombard them with questions. The language barrier served well as an excuse, but it wouldn’t hold forever. Not that LAena could blame them.

Upon seeing the burning dragon emerge from the pillar of flame, Laena almost sank to the sand. It was akin to an ancient painting coming to life from one of those books, words exchanged over candlelight birthing themselves into the world. Her husband’s crimson mount, the fiercest dragon since the Conqueror’s beast…for a moment, she had thought one of the Fourteen had descended upon the earth. The vow of chastity septas bore was nothing compared to the burning desire of asking the pale-haired boy everything she could about his origins. 

“I believe that both Albaz and Lady Ecclesia share our suspicions of Ser Otto. He was most skeptical of their claims during their audience. And it is natural to desire a familiar face. Your mother has been in their company almost daily,” replied Corlys, then turning to fully direct his grin at Laena. “Through your efforts, our guests have given you access to the royal family. An opportunity like this cannot be squandered.”

Laena straightened her posture, her back fully against the wooden chair. “What would you bid me do, Father?”

Corlys placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, his brow furrowing. “Thanks to Rhaenyra’s absence from King’s Landing, the Greens have firmly entrenched themselves in court while our influence has waned. I’ve received reports from my agents that rumormongers have spread lies about our wares, some go so far as to claim they’re poisoned, and those are the foolish ones. If it’s not the Hightowers themselves, then other noble houses in their circle are flexing their pull. Your new presence at court alongside Daemon’s should give the Greens pause while I alleviate and recoup our losses. Send letters and envoys to the docks to remind our incoming traders that King’s Landing is still a favorable port. Report to me of any house or merchant that inquires about your presence or speaks of trade with us.” 

He drummed his fingers on his knuckles and continued. “The rest of your time you will dedicate to entrenching yourself further with our two guests. It might be redundant to state this, but once the rest of the nobility learns about their magic, they will flock to them like vultures.”

“An understatement, my lord,” Rhaenys added, her expression pensive. “Aegon and his sister-wives conquered the Seven Kingdoms with dragons, and my family rules on the Iron Throne forged by Balerion’s flames. Through the strife of Maegor the Cruel’s bloody reign and Jaehaerys the Wise's conciliations, the power of dragons kept the lords at bay. Now comes a boy who can turn into a dragon, with no ties to any known lineage? The power and prestige of the house who claims him could match the royal family and ourselves.”

“They would call him a descendant of Valyria with his looks,” muttered Laena. “The temptation would only be sweeter.”

“Let us not forget Lady Ecclesia,” Corlys added. “The houses won’t see it at first, but she is just as dangerous as Albaz.”

Laenor raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous?” he asked, though his skepticism was lighter than the queen’s. Corlys turned to him and he hastily continued. “I do not doubt your word, Father. She faced down a dragon and calmed him down, and humbled Daemon in the yard per your words, but how else is she dangerous?”

Corlys grabbed his goblet and swirled it around, pausing to formulate his answer. Rhaena and Baela leaned forward in their seats, brimming with curiosity. Even her mother brushed a stray hair away and fully turned to her husband, a sign of her undivided attention.

“Daughter, in the time you’ve spent together with Lady Ecclesia, did you ever once take her for a liar?”

Laena rubbed her wrist before shaking her head. “No. I’m sure she omits details from her tales, yes, but never has she told an outright lie.”

Her father nodded. “Then consider this: according to her, she, a girl of four-and-ten, barely flowered, was not only a member of what she described as a knightly order dedicated to fighting monsters but was sent to kill a dragon, alone. A feat accomplished only by Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, a tale from the Age of Heroes, and Lady Ecclesia described the task given to her with no more gravitas than one would describe an impending stroll through the gardens. Add that to her feats in the training yard…”  

He took a long sip of his sweetwine and swallowed audibly. Laenor’s eyes widened as his father’s words sunk in. “My gods…”

“Exactly. Everyone will dismiss her as nothing more than a pretty face at first, but the moment they discover the true extent of her prowess she will face even greater scrutiny, and noblemen might take bolder measures to approach her than they would with Albaz.”

“I doubt Lady Ecclesia will take kindly to that. Despite her gentleness, she’s a spirited girl.”

“Exactly my sentiment,” Corlys agreed with a somber tone. “Unnecessary conflict will only pose trouble for us down the line. We must make it clear to any interested party that those two are our guests and are under our protection. At the same time, keep to their side and maintain the closeness you’ve developed. Let them know that for any matter they need help with, they only need to turn to you. We shall nurture the trust they’ve given us while steering them away from…unsavory sources. It wouldn’t do for lesser houses to cultivate what they do not deserve.”

Laena nodded in agreement, though she felt herself frown. She’d heard Corlys discuss retaliation against houses who attempted to attack their trading influence before. He’d grow ruthless if pirates were involved. It troubled her - that much was true, but she never gave much attention to those thoughts. And when one hears the rumors and shakings of King’s Landing, a sense of callousness is essential. 

Why did his words towards Ecclesia and Albaz send discomfort down her spine?

“Marriage then?” Rhaenys asked after swallowing an apple slice. “In the event they cannot find their way home, we should look to bind them further. I do recall several cousins around Albaz’s age, assuming he is of the same age as his lady companion.” 

“That won't work, mother,” Laena interjected. “Like I said, Lady Ecclesia is a spirited girl. What she did to Daemon she can easily do to any would-be suitor, and the same goes for Albaz.”

“Laena speaks truth, dear wife,” added Corlys, eliciting a turn of the head from Rhaenys. “Foisting a marriage upon them, especially so soon, would destroy any goodwill we’ve built between us. We only need to keep other houses from making the same offers.”

“What if the Queen desires to wed one of her own to them?” asked Laenor. “The prospect of a dragon-man or a sorceress married into the king’s line is too tempting to ignore.”

“After the venom she spewed at us and the look of murder upon her face?” Corlys replied and chuckled. “No, she’ll desire to keep her children away from them as much as possible. The Faith does not tolerate sorcery, after all. Add His Grace’s clear interest, and the Queen’s direct involvement in this affair is the least of my concerns.”

He shifted in his seat and grabbed the last lemon cake. Rhaena pouted as she stared at her remaining pieces of fruit while Baela alternated between glaring at her and looking at her grandfather with rapt attention.

“Besides,” he continued with a knowing smile. “I chatted with Albaz before the audience with the king, and he talked about his lady friend with great affection. I am confident the chances of either of them being swayed over to another house’s side are slim to none.”

“Yes, I noticed it as well. Ecclesia speaks of him with similar fondness,” Laena replied with amusement.

“Is that why you’ve asked me to ignore the septa’s requests to separate them from their single room?” Rhaenys asked, the corners of her lips curved upward. Laena simply sipped her sweetwine and Corlys’s eyes twinkled. It was incredibly obvious to anyone who bothered to look.

“Perhaps we should make them your wards, Laena.” She paused her drinking as surprise filled her. Her brother did the same, only with a chunk of bread between his fingers. “It would grant them a far more secure measure of protection and we could further integrate ourselves. Any objections left regarding your presence around them would be quashed.”

“Does it mean we’ll get to talk with Lady Ecclesia?” Baela asked, excitement taking over her features.

“Of course, granddaughter. If anything, it will give you more opportunities to get closer to her.”

Baela swiftly nodded and Rhaena perked up. Laena held back another frown at her father’s words; while she was confident Lady Ecclesia wouldn’t harm her daughters, her father’s willingness to involve them in this scheme was concerning. Nevertheless, she held her tongue.

“And how is your wife, Laenor? You’ve been rather brief in your letters.”

A veil of tension fell over the room as Laenor’s face grew pinched. Her lord father and lady mother bore masks of stone as her brother’s hand clenched the tableside. Laena glanced at him with concern but made no move to interfere otherwise. Perhaps it was for the better that Rhaenyra turned down their invitation to break the fast.

“Rhaenyra is...busy, as of late,” Laenor replied, his tongue weighed down as though it was cast in lead. “Taking care of both a newborn and ruling Dragonstone is no easy task, but she has taken to it admirably.”

“Yes, my latest grandson. Were there any complications in Joffrey's birth?”

Laenor shook his head, but Laena saw the question for what it was. The glaring complication of dark hair instead of Valyrian silver. What was her good-sister thinking!? Did she truly believe no one would notice? She knew of Laenor’s…preferences, as if the name of his latest son wasn’t a dead giveaway, but she’d expected him to have more subtlety than this! How the king remained both blind and deaf to the situation was so baffling she could barely wrap her head around it. It was a miracle that Laenor wasn’t laughed out of court, although one could take his wife’s seclusion on Dragonstone as an obvious sign. 

“Excellent. Both of you are blessed to have three sons. How are Jacaerys’s studies progressing?”

As her father kept questioning her brother, Laena’s confusion grew. Why was he taking this insult in such stride? It was no secret that her father wanted his blood on the Iron Throne, and Laenor’s marriage to Rhaenyra, along with supporting her heirship, was the final stepping stone. The princess’s position was established on unsteady ground, and her base of support was much thinner compared to her stepbrother Aegon’s. But it seemed as though Rhaenyra paid little mind to the situation - three of them - which dropped from her belly, and Laenor was fine with it!

Not that she blamed the boys themselves; they were kind-natured and had inherited her mother’s fiery spirit, if anything. The topic of betrothals between them and her daughters popped up more than once with her father. Was he using the king’s blindness as an advantage? Even so…

She bit her lip and calmed herself. A talk with her brother was overdue, if only to prepare him for the onslaught of scrutiny from the rest of the family. As if they didn’t already know.

“The princess repeatedly expressed her frustrations regarding our guests,” stated Laenor hurriedly, and a hint of accusation slipped into his tone. “I had to swear upon the Seven I knew nothing of them or your involvement.”

Corlys waved him off. “Precautions, my son. As I stated during the feast, an equal first impression was necessary; revealing it first to either the king or yourself would have cast favoritism. With their power, I had to play a delicate balance. Laena and Daemon’s foreknowledge was unquestioned because of their presence in Pentos and Laena’s skill in Volantene. And despite Otto Hightower’s meddling, these efforts have borne fruit. No one will question their closeness to us now.”

“Even so, she was quite put out. Rhaenyra wished to meet them in person straight away, but I managed to dissuade her on the condition that she's informed of the first chance she gets to meet them.”

Their father’s gaze flickered into his goblet, as though the rich sweetwine held the answer to this predicament in its depth before giving his reply. 

“Later this evening. ‘Twould be better if we avoid overwhelming our guests.” Laenor nodded and Corlys rose from the table, the rest of them following suit and straightening out the wrinkles in their clothes. His warm smile returned, and he let out a sigh of contentment. “It has been years since we all had a proper meal, just the family. Truly, it warms my heart to see House Velaryon together again. Until Laena leaves for King’s Landing, I would please me to partake in a meal with you all again.”

“Of course, Father,” replied Laena, earning a collective smile from the rest. Her daughters looked especially excited, and her father rewarded them with a wider grin. Once he kissed her mother on the cheek, Corlys walked away from the table and left the room. Rhaenys followed suit with the twins, escorting them to their lessons, but before extracting a solemn promise from Laena to see Lady Ecclesia again. Only Laenor was left, but as soon as she turned to address him, several questions ready to fire from her lips, he interrupted.

“I must attend to my wife and children, dear sister,” he said, his purple eyes whispering a silent plea. “I would love to speak with you again later this evening, if you are free.”

Not now. Please.

Any barb Laena had ready withered on the spot. For a moment she stood stone-faced, trying to project her condemnation of his antics, and then sighed before giving him a weary smile.

“Of course, brother. Perhaps we could take a flight around the island.”

Both of them perked up at her words. An evening flight on their dragons always calmed her and Daemon down, and she knew Laenor felt the same whenever he mounted Seasmoke. They exchanged a quick bow and curtsey, and Laena found herself alone in the room. 

‘One eventful meal after another,’ she thought. So many new developments…the faint fear of drowning in this tide of revelations glimmered before she squashed it. She was a daughter of House Velaryon and a dragon rider. Compared to them, all else seemed trivial.

‘For now, I should check on Albaz and Lady Ecclesia. They might still be in their quarters.’

She headed out of the room and down the hall, past the tapestries and under the curved marble arches. Servants flocked down the hall, giving her a wide berth as they carried clothes, food, and any items needed for the completion of their tasks. A dutifulness that doubled with the presence of the royal family. Her mother instructed the steward to inform the servants that any standard below perfection was unacceptable. As befitting the Velaryon’s wealth, the finest linens, perfumes, treats - all were at the service of the Targaryens. She spotted a pair of maids hauling pails of steaming water in the direction of the guest rooms. The Queen must have requested a morning bath. 

‘The new scented oils from Lys would help with smoothing out any unnecessary tension…beyond the existing ones. I would upset Rhaena; she was looking forward to trying it, but the sapphire brooch Father purchased should calm her down. Did he leave it with mother or-’

“...you tell me!?”

“A slip of the mind, dear niece. In some ways, I had trouble believing it myself.”

Laena paused at the familiar voices coming from ahead. Taking a tentative step, she peered behind the corner and blinked in surprise at the sight of Daemon, casually leaning on the wall of a small alcove while Princess Rhaenyra paced around before him, her face stormy.

She stilled her breath. Was this why Daemon had excused himself from attending the morning meal? No, he said he wanted to practice in the yard. His forehead glistened with sweat and Dark Sister was at his hip, so he was probably truthful…but did he plan to meet with her?

“Spare me the wit, Daemon!” Rhaenyra hissed. “Corlys’s excuse will not blind me and neither should it blind you!”

“I never said I accepted his excuse. I thought he had corresponded with you regarding his guests. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

The princess frowned and took a deep breath, fingers gripping her puffy black dress. The stress lines on her beautiful face faded slightly as her bearing grew more composed. 

“How is Caraxes faring?”

Daemon’s lips twitched and the bridge of his nose wrinkled, his hand pausing on Dark Sister’s pommel. “Sleeping for now.” 

The curt tone he took silenced that line of conversation, and Laena didn’t fault him. The damage, while not as severe as they thought, left strong marks on Caraxes. She knew the truly insulting aspect came from the sheer ease with which the transformed Albaz dealt them to the dragon. Thankfully, both Daemon’s own curiosity and her family’s efforts stayed his hand…though she had doubts as to who she was sparing from whose wrath.

“Such power…Father wouldn’t stop talking about the beach. He spent all night with the Velaryon maester in his room, asking him everything he learned about them.”

“Only a fool would think to do otherwise. My goodfather was wise to establish a rapport between them.”

“Have they been approached by the Hightowers? Invited to tea or otherwise?”

Daemon shook his head. “No, the guards at their rooms rebuffed any servants not in Velaryon colors. Corlys insisted that they rest after such a…tumultuous evening.”

The princess paused her pacing and rubbed her chin with a delicate finger. “How can such magic be possible? I’ve never heard of any legend that describes even a fraction of what happened yesterday.”

This time, a frown fully graced Daemon’s face. “I have searched through every tome I possess regarding Valyrian lore. Corlys was generous enough to let me peruse his library as well. There were details of dragon riders, dragon taming techniques, and even stories of spells that could strengthen a rider’s bond with his dragon. Not one mention of actually turning into a dragon.”

“And what a dragon it was…” she mumbled. “Four legs, burning scales…when he attacked Caraxes, I felt as though I witnessed the Fourteen Flames from my father’s histories.”

“The guardsmen even found glass where the battle took place, such was the heat from his flames.”

Rhaenyra nodded gravely and her brow furrowed. “I cannot allow this power to fall into Alicent’s hands. It was insulting enough that Otto Hightower managed to abuse my father’s love of him to weasel his way back into court, but attempting this latest stunt? I won’t have it. I must speak with these foreigners at once.”

“I’m sure Corlys will accommodate you, dear niece,” remarked Daemon as he pulled off a glove and checked his nails. “Yet I find myself curious as toi how you intend to secure their loyalty?”

Rhaenyra shot him a mildly scathing look, as if daring to poke a hole in her brewing plans. The Rogue Prince merely chuckled at the stare.

“I don’t think you’ll have to try too hard; the Queen has made her stance on heathen sorcerers and magics quite clear. I give it a month before they realize the Hightowers’ offers of help are worth the same as a pile of dung in Flea Bottom. At least with the dung, some meat can be ferreted out of the brown heap.”

Hearing enough, Laena straightened herself and walked into the hallway. As she expected, her footsteps immediately drew their attention.

“Laena, I see you’ve finished breaking your fast,” Daemon said, smoothly approaching her. 

“Father had the most sumptuous apples from Cider Hall brought in. ' ‘Twas a pity you couldn’t join us,” she stopped and accepted his offered hands. “Baela and Rhaena wished to speak with you.”

“If my dear daughters desire my company, how can I refuse? I will go to them as soon as I can,” he replied with a roguish grin. Even after their years of marriage, that grin warmed her cheeks. 

Laena then turned to Rhaenyra and curtsied. “My princess, I apologize. How was your morn?”

“It is no trouble, Laena,” Rhaenyra replied with a smile of her own. “The feast yesterday was perfect; my boys salivated over the seasoned meat. Is it you I should thank for the new dress I saw on my bed?”

“I plead guilty, my princess. I saw it in Pentos and I immediately thought of you. The merchant said it was woven by his great-grandmother and was based on sketches of a dress belonging to the wife of an archon. It passed down his family for generations, and he was honored when I told him I desired it for you.”

“You have my deepest thanks. I shall wear it at the first opportunity.” Despite the current circumstances, Laena’s smile grew relaxed; she had shared a great rapport with Rhaenyra and often flew to Dragonstone for visits after her marriage to Daemon, bonding over evening flights and more trivial pursuits. The trips to Essos dulled their correspondence, but it always pleased her to exchange the odd letter. 

“Would you care to join me for a stroll? We have not spoken for over two years,” Rhaenyra asked. 

Laena steeled herself before replying with a dip of her head. “Forgive me, Lady Rhaenyra, but I must attend to an urgent errand from my father. My duties as hostess with my mother take priority.”

“It is no trouble at all, dear Laena,” Rhaenyra waved. “To host the royal family is an honor for any House. Other matters are lesser in comparison to ensure only the best is prepared for the king’s needs.”

She then slightly tilted her head. “Might I accompany you instead?”

Laena blinked and Daemon raised an eyebrow. Accompany her? 

She opened her mouth to formulate a response, only to fall short at the sight of the serene face of the Realm’s Delight. Yet past the even-tempered mask, the daughter of the Sea Snake spotted the barest hints of her calculated smirk.

Laenor hadn’t managed to speak to her after the meal then. Well, better now than later and spare herself the concern.

“...as my princess wishes. If you’ll follow me?” she turned around, and her slippers trod upon the marble floor, the echoing footsteps of her princess and her husband right behind her. As soon as they turned the corner, the hulking form of Ser Harwin Strong appeared from behind the corner.

“Ser Harwin,” Laena greeted with her usual charm, though she held back a frown. She didn’t know precisely what to think of Rhaenyra’s sworn sword, but she knew they were apathetic at best. He was both a capable knight and equally culpable in this whole debacle. Did the Lord Hand know? Or was he as blind as his king?

“Lady Laena, a pleasure,” he greeted her with a bow from the waist, his curled hair bobbing and brushing against the iron collar of his plate armor. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is accompanying me for a trip, I trust that is no problem?” 

“Not at all, my lady,” he replied with a charming smile. “High Tide is a magnificent castle; Laenor has extolled its beauty repeatedly. I only see now his words could not do it justice.”

“You flatter us, good ser.” She had to admit, Ser Harwin was a pleasant face to gaze upon, utterly in contrast to his title of ‘Breakbones’. Not nearly as handsome as Daemon, but she could see why many a maiden had desired him. If only his charm matched his restraint and common sense. 

She continued on her way with the new guests, observing how the vibrant sunlight and the song of the surf drifted through the great arches of High Tide, punctuated by seagulls’ cries. The gods had blessed them with a beautiful and radiant day; she only hoped whatever arose would not spoil it. Throughout the halls, servants bowed and curtsied to their small group. Every so often, a visiting noble would call out to the princess, offering flattery and blessings, to which Rhaenyra answered in stride. When they entered the courtyard, courtiers whispered to each other with narrowed eyes and hunched postures. Many had their eyes on Rhaenyra, and she caught a stray hiss from their lips, but a portion of them were focused on herself, with eyes tinged not with accusation but with curiosity and even envy. She heard the word ‘dragon’ flying in the wind.

Within a few minutes of walking through the halls, Laena was before a door she found herself frequenting these past couple of sennights. 

“Are our guests still in their room?” she asked the guards flanking the door.

“Aye, milady,” one replied, keeping his gaze focused on her and away from the Targaryens. “The maids delivered to them a morning meal not long ago at Lady Rhaenys’s orders.”

She nodded and raised a hand to knock on the door before pausing, indecision grabbing her. She contemplated the issue for a few scant seconds and turned around.

“I know you are upset with my father for not informing you of our guests, and I am sure you are eager to meet them, but I must ask of you a favor first, my princess.”

Rhaenyra’s eyebrow quirked with curiosity. “If it is within my power, I shall grant it.”

Laena pursed her lips, carefully constructing the words to avoid any insult.

“They are fiercely protective of each other, and we have carefully built up trust between ourselves and them. If you wish for them to call you friend, I only ask you to relay your questions with gentleness.”

The princess’s fingers traced the ruby rings on her fingers, eyes narrowing imperceptibly. 

“Are you implying that my niece, heiress to the Iron Throne, is lacking in gentility?” Daemon’s tone was sharp, but the teasing was obvious to her. 

“I would never dream to utter such lies, but Lady Ecclesia has shown her reaction to forceful displays of dominance, or have you forgotten?”

Any remnants of humor were wiped clean from his face. His hand clenched momentarily before she heard his quick intake of breath. Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to him and her lips twitched.

“Your guests have nothing to fear, dear Laena. I only wish to give them a proper welcome to the Seven Kingdoms as my father did.” At that moment, it appeared as though she channeled the Mother herself.

Laena smiled and felt her shoulders relax. “Thank you, my princess. Your words provide a great comfort to me.” She then addressed Daemon. “Husband, could you-”

“I shall stand guard out here with Ser Strong,” he quickly replied, much to Breakbones’s surprise. “I wished to discuss matters with him privately for a while now, and I hadn’t had the chance.”

Ser Strong’s jaw twitched as he stared at Daemon with unease before slowly speaking. “If my lady agrees…”

The curt nod from Rhaenyra silences him.

Satisfied, Laena gently knocked on the door and called out in Volantene, “Master Albaz? Lady Ecclesia? ‘Tis I, Laena, and I bring a guest who wishes to speak with you.”

A pattering of footsteps later, Lady Ecclesia opened the door, wearing the same strange shirt and pants from their first meeting, with her golden hair bundled up behind her. She opened her mouth to greet her before startling at the sight of the Targaryens. “Um, hello.”

“Good morrow to you, my lady. I hope we are not intruding.”

She shook her head. “No, we were just wondering what to do. The guards wouldn’t let us outside.”

“I apologize for that. My father believed you deserved some rest after yesterday’s incident and ordered that no one disturb you. Might we come in?”

The girl stepped back and allowed the two noble ladies to enter the room. Albaz was sitting on the bed, holding his sheathed Valyrian steel sword, his surprise evident on his young face. He quickly rose as Ecclesia moved to his side. The guards closed the door behind them and Laena gestured to Rhaenyra. 

“My esteemed guests, may I formally introduce you to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, rider of Syrax, firstborn child of King Viserys, and heiress to the Iron Throne.”

Ecclesia’s eyes briefly widened, and she bowed at the waist, with Albaz quickly following suit. Rhaenyra inclined her head to them, her hands clasped together and a serene bearing upon her face.

“Nice to…meet you…Princess Rhaenyra,” Ecclesia greeted in halting Common. If the pronunciation or lack of address bothered the princess, she gave no indication of such. If anything, her smile twitched wider.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Ecclesia, Master Albaz. We were not given a proper introduction last time, and I have been remiss in my manners.”

She sat herself down in one of the chairs and motioned the rest to do the same. Albaz and Ecclesia sat down by each other on the bed while Laena made herself comfortable on the remaining chair, ready to translate.

“You certainly have my family’s curiosity piqued. My children do nothing but ask about you, and I confess that I too am greatly intrigued by you. I was hoping you could sate my curiosity by answering a few questions of my own.”

The two glanced at each other and nodded before Albaz spoke. “What do you want to ask?”

Laena translated and Rhaenyra’s smile grew relaxed. “What is it like, becoming a dragon? I have flown on my Syrax for many years, and I often tell others that to soar through the skies on dragonback is a sensation one has to experience to understand. I am often met with confusion and wonderment at this; how else can I describe what my family has had the honor of knowing?” She chuckled. “Now I find myself in the very same position as those people. In a way, I find myself humbled.”

Her tone was curiosity and authority given voice. Not a single word was a lie. Even Laena awaited the boy’s answer with anticipation, for neither she nor her father ever dared to ask him beforehand.

Albaz bit his lip as his hand ran over the sheets, a lone red eye moving up and down. In that moment, he did not appear as a divine being, a warrior of yore from fell lands in the slightest, but a child. It was jarring, Laena had to admit, to contrast between the beasts she witnessed and the boy before her. But which one was he?

“...everything feels smaller,” he started, and Laena wasted no time translating. “There’s like a weight that falls off my shoulders, and I feel like I can run forever.” He placed a hand over his chest and gripped it. “There’s a…roar inside that I need to let out, and my blood runs really fast…” 

His face scrunched up, and Laena spotted a trembling of his arm. Whatever magic he possessed, it did not seem pleasant to feel. Fearing Rhaenyra might have asked too much, she opened her mouth to interject, only for Ecclesia to gently touch his shoulder. Within moments, he relaxed and briefly closed his eye. Upon seeing Rhaenyra’s fascinated gaze, he ducked his head, and a dust of red coated his tanned cheeks.

“Ah, sorry. I don’t really know how to explain it well.”

Rhaenyra waved at him reassuringly with a disarming smile. “‘Tis no trouble. I feared as much before I asked, but I thank you for your effort. And how long have you possessed this power?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

“And you said yesterday that you knew no one else that could perform the same feat?”

Albaz nodded and Rhaenyra steepled her fingers again, turning her gaze towards Ecclesia while Laena could practically hear her thoughts churning like a thunderstorm.

“Do you know why Caraxes attacked you?”

“Caraxes?” he asked, then aahed in realization. “The red dragon? No, I told Corlys and Laena already. He just looked at me and…” the boy waved a gloved hand in a shooing motion. “Snapped.”

Rhaenyra tapped her fingers together and hummed. “Perhaps he saw what we couldn’t and took you for a rival. Dragons can get fiercely territorial, and Caraxes was always an aggressive one.”  

The boy nodded, though he still looked uncomfortable at the memory of the incident. 

“Lady Ecclesia, could you tell me more about your homeland?” she addressed the blonde. “I know you spoke of it with reluctance, but it has captured my imagination. Monsters and lady knights who slay them- it sounds quite the fascinating kingdom. Were all members of your order women?”

Discomfort flashed across the girl’s face, but she straightened her posture and began to speak nonetheless. 

“No, but a lot of them were. If you could serve the faith, then it didn’t matter if you were a boy or a girl. Most of the saints were women as well.”

“Saints…you mean holy ones? Pray tell, what does the term mean in your faith?” The princess turned to Laena with an amused smile on her lips. “I have trouble envisioning a woman in septa’s garbs and kneeling on a hill within the ranks of the order you described.”

“Umm…” Ecclesia tilted her head with visible confusion at the jest. “They all prayed, I think…but a saint is one of the strongest warriors in the faith, the best of the best. The priests said that my sister Fleur is the strongest one in centuries.”

“Your sister…the one who you said felled Albaz in one blow?” At her confirmation, Rhaenyra leaned forward, the ravenous interest slowly growing. Laena would be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. For a woman to perform feats greater than warriors of old…a sudden longing overtook her. What would it be like to visit such a kingdom, to speak with women who didn’t cower before sights that sent men trembling? “Extraordinary…no wonder she was considered as such. Has she killed other dragons before that?”

Ecclesia nodded again, this time with a smile. “Mm-hm! Not just dragons, but other big monsters. Once, when she returned from a hunt, the other soldiers dragged a huge lizard-monster with them, as big as a house. It was attacking villages and hurting our people, so she went to stop it and killed it by stabbing it in the head!”

The girl’s turn of mood was a sunrise compared to the uncertainty of before. Albaz, who had flinched at the initial mention of her sister, was now smiling at her enthusiasm. Laena couldn’t help but return the smile amid her own excitement.

Rhaenyra’s laugh rang through the room, her silver hair glistening in the sunlight. “Do you hear that, dear Laena? We must hide these exploits from our knights, lest they feel their tourneys worthless. After slaying dragons, how can a man compare?”

“I’m sure they’d find something or another to compensate. Seven forbid their masculinity’s honor be tarnished!”

The two noble ladies shared another laugh before the princess addressed Ecclesia again. “And did your sister train you in the arts of war? Did she wield a hammer as you do now?”

“She used a sword, but I learned how to use a hammer thanks to another friend. The other things she did teach me, and not just because I was the next one.” Her expression turned wistful as she fiddled with her shirt. “She raised me from when I was a baby, and I learned almost everything from her.”

Her words earned a softened look from Rhaenyra. “A mother and a sister in one…she’s very dear to you, isn’t she? Was there any particular topic both of you were fond of?”

“I loved her storytimes, she always told stories like she had experienced them herself. We also bathed together all the time, and we’d talk about troubles or silly thoughts we had that day.” She played with a lock of her golden hair as she continued. “When I was…eight, I grew interested in plants and gardening. I wanted to try growing some myself, but the church didn’t allow people to grow plants except in the courtyard garden. One day, I lost against one of the other knights real badly when he almost threw me through a wall-”

Laena forced down a choke as she translated the words, and her good-sister’s eyes widened. She was thrown through a wall!? Was she hearing this right!?

“Are you well, Laena?”

She blinked at the girl’s innocent question and quickly chuckled. “A mere cough, Lady Ecclesia, do not worry yourself. I must ask, was that a poetic description or…a more literal meaning?”

She gave her a strange look. “No, he did throw me against a wall. It wasn’t the marble ones though, just a chalk one in the training yard for obstacle courses. It still hurt and it cracked behind me, but I was fine the next day.”

The Velaryon lady nodded as her mind raced with the ferocity of a dragon’s roar. What sort of maddening training was she put through, to be thrown against a wall with enough force to crack it and shrug it off!? Was that the secret to her strength? A regimen so brutal that even seasoned knights would balk at the prospect?

“That is…impressive, to say the least, my lady,” Rhaenyra observed, though Laena picked up a faint tremor. “But you spoke about gardening?”

“Oh yes! As I was saying, I was beat up real bad and one of the other knights whispered mean things about me, so I was pretty upset. When Fleur found out during our bathtime, she said she had a surprise waiting for me. I followed her and saw a little flower bed next to my room, overlooking the balcony. She told me I could plant whatever flowers I wanted there and no one could take them away.” 

She stared up at a little flower vase which sat atop the wardrobe, her smile growing both fond and fragile at the same time.

“I planted flowers there every chance I got. Blue ones, yellow ones, whatever I could fit. When I had enough, I would pick them and make crowns and even a bouquet. I gave one to her and she told me she’d cherish it forever, because I grew it myself. She received a lot of flowers from different people, so hearing that…” she choked up and swallowed a sob. “I felt like I could fight a hundred knights.”

A pang went through Laena’s heart at her words. Lady Ecclesia was a gentle soul indeed. Albaz reached out and rubbed her shoulder, to which she responded by gently grasping his palm and leaning into his touch.

“I feel for you, dear lady Ecclesia,” Rhaenyra softly replied. “I know the joy a mother can bring, and to lose that warmth is a tragedy few can compare.” She then paused. “At the beginning, what did you mean by ‘the next one?’”

Ecclesia blinked, still grasping her companion’s hand. “Um…I was going to be the next saint. When our…high priest chose the next saint, it was tradition for the current saint to train them.”

As Laena finished translating, the words fully sank in. Rhaenyra’s eyebrows rose so high she feared they might escape her forehead, and Laena felt her own doing very much the same. Lady Ecclesia was strong, there was no denying that…but to hear she was next in line for what appeared to be the equivalent of their land’s First Sword of Braavos?

“My dear Laena, fortune smiles upon House Velaryon, for you are blessed with such distinguished guests,” Rhaenyra said, a hint of awe seeping into her words as she alternated her gaze from Albaz to Ecclesia. “I daresay this moment shall be remembered for generations to come.”

“We are very grateful for these blessings, my princess,” she directed her stare to the two and offered her most motherly smile, the same one she used on her twin pearls. To her surprise, it barely felt false at all. “And we are most happy to help you.”

Ecclesia blushed and bowed her head. “Thank you, Laena. We’re really grateful for your help.”

“Same,” added Albaz. “I don’t think we expected…this,” he gestured at the guest room. “Especially after the beach.”

“Nonesense, dear Albaz! We’ve already agreed the incident wasn’t your fault. In the end, no one was hurt. We’d be poor hosts if we grew cross with every accident!”

The two chuckled, an air of levity filling the room. Cultivating their new rapport wasn’t the hard part, it seemed; they were already grateful, and all that was needed was to maintain their building trust. Rhaenyra watched it all in amusement, her hands lying gently on her silk dress. Laena reclined in her chair and played with a strand of her silver hair.

“I heard you are to leave for King’s Landing within the coming week, correct?” asked Rhaenyra. 

Laena translated her words and Ecclesia nodded. “Yes, but Corlys said he wants to prepare a few things for Laena and her family before we leave.”

“What has he told you of the city?”

“He said it was the biggest city in the kingdom, where the king’s family lives, and there’s this huge throne of swords,” replied Albaz.

“The Iron Throne. Yes, that is the symbol of my family’s power. Every king has sat upon it, and when my father passes away, so shall I.” 

“Your family…are the white-haired boys from yesterday your brothers?” asked Ecclesia. 

For a moment, Rhaenyra tensed at the mention of the Hightower children. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her hands froze, yet her mask of politeness never faded. “They are my father’s children, yes, but they are also Queen Alicent’s children. She married my father not long after my mother Aemma, the first Queen, died. Aegon is,” her voice strained at the name. “His son and his siblings are Aemond and Helaena. There is another one, Daemon, but he currently lives in Oldtown with the Queen’s family.”

The two nodded and Albaz frowned. “She didn’t look like she wanted us in that hall. The Queen, I mean.”

Rhaenyra let loose a sorrowful sigh that wasn’t entirely fake. “Unfortunately, the Queen is a fervent follower of the Faith of the Seven, which does not see eye to eye with magicians and sorcerers, nevermind she married into a line of dragonriders. She is thus naturally suspicious of your kind and clings to outdated beliefs and traditions. For those reasons she isn’t fond of me either.”

Albaz blinked with his lone eye. “I don’t understand.”

“Per the Faith of the Seven, women are weak in spirit and body, and thus cannot inherit. She thinks I am unworthy of my father’s seat and wishes to supplement her son instead.”

“That…sounds stupid,” he commented and scratched his cheek. “I know women and all of them are strong. Fleur, Ferrejit, Kitt, and Ecclesia,” the girl in question blushed at the compliment. “Laena’s also helped us a lot, so that has to mean something, right?”

“I most definitely see that, Master Albaz, and my good-sister is one of the most capable women I know. A true testament to her house.” Rhaenyra flashed her a tender smile, to which she dipped her head. “Alas, most in the capital do not share your viewpoint. To them, a woman’s place is not on the battlefield or astride dragons. My father proclaimed me his heir years before, but others share the Queen’s narrow views and doubt his decision.”

She crossed her legs and straightened her posture, and Laena braced herself for the explanation she would have to interpret. 

“Many would claim that you both are an ill omen, a sign of dark times descending upon us. They won’t take kindly to your presence for a myriad of reasons, and will seek to undermine you any chance they get, spreading falsehoods and ill whispers among their fellows and the smallfolk. The Queen and her family might even turn a blind eye, if only to avoid angering their allies. I implore you to tread with caution and be aware of the intentions of whoever speaks to you. If the snakes in the court see an opportunity, they will bite and spread their venom.”

Ecclesia shrunk at the gravity of her tone, and Albaz’s red eye narrowed. “We won’t let them hurt us,” he replied, and for a moment Laena thought she saw his pupil narrow.

“I do not imply that you should, and I am confident in both your and my dear Laena’s ability to shield you from the intrigues of court. I only ask that you remember that you have an ally in me. Should anyone trouble you, you need only tell me or my husband and we shall provide it posthaste.”

So that was her ploy. A sound tactic - almost word-for-word what they were using - and her emphasis on their reception would certainly draw them away from Hightower hands. As Daemon said, the Queen and Ser Otto were doing a spectacular job of driving them away with first impressions. A part of her even wanted to witness the court’s attempt at sabotage…if only to laugh at the fallout. Both power and subtlety possess long reaches and great hands, but eventually one of them could grasp no further.

Laena finished translating and Ecclesia bit her lip. She glanced at her companion and a silent conversation seemed to ensue between them, akin to one she’d witnessed many times between her father and mother.

Well…that would certainly dampen many a noble’s attempts, she thought with a hidden smile. If it wasn’t obvious enough.

“Thank…you…princess,” Ecclesia replied in Common again. She’d have to increase their lessons with Maqarro; in the court where words were weapons, to speak only in foreign tongues would prove a detriment. “We will...be careful.”

“That is all I ask,” Rhaenyra said with barely hidden satisfaction. “I look forward to witnessing your…future endeavors, and formally welcome you to Westeros.”

As Laena translated the last word, she glanced at her good-sister, who kept smiling with her hands upon her lap. The brief twitch of her ruby lips caught her eye, and Laena prepared for the ensuing conversation with her father. How would he react, she could guess, but the fact remained that Rhaenyra had made her move. But that was fine.

All she had to do was stay ahead.