III

DRAGONSTONE – 79 years after the Doom of Valyria

By my sixth nameday, I had charmed the socks off my kin on Driftmark… well mostly. My uncle, ever the opportunist, had become my creature of sorts since I had presented him with my grand plan of conquering Westeros for the betterment of this world (and for my own gain) though I was still struggling with getting him to fund most of my projects.

The man was remarkably stingy, a fact not helped by the costliness of said projects. While I was nowhere near where I wanted to be, courtesy of my measly allowance (guess it runs in the family) and the fact I was still ten years shy of my majority, things weren't so ghastly.

The newly christened "Millenium Falcon" had undertaken its maiden voyage to Pentos six moons after my arrival, covering a three-day journey in one day and returning laden with gold, silks, and spices. Four more ships were due to join her and consequently the Velaryon fleet though it was still not quite the level of cheapness I was hoping for. It had taken a while to get the ratio of the alloy quite right and the ships themselves took a long time to build. But I digress. Somethings were out of my hands by virtue of my age, my lack of funds, and Daemon's helicopter-like parenting of which I found myself growing sick of with every passing day. Nevertheless, I had annoyingly pushed for more work to do while I found myself stuck on the penal colony that was Driftmark, spread amongst my time trying to win my cousins over to my side and (not) staring at the goddess that was my aunt Laena.

I had gotten my tiny little hands on the accounts of Driftmark after much probing, something that had given me the first of many headaches on this damn island. The accounts were… messy to say the least. The constant logs were a slog to read through but after much investigating, introducing the concept of double-entry bookkeeping and many, many wrist cramps, I had gotten to the conclusion we had been swindled out of a good amount of silver by the steward. He had three turnkeys on his payroll who plainly did not exist and no one dared to make a check-up to confirm whether these three people even worked for us. Naturally, I had drawn up my evidence, collected over two moons time while the man had let his guard down before presenting it to my lord uncle who had the man unceremoniously hanged and given to Vhagar as lunch. Given my uncle was now convinced I was blessed by the Fourteen ( which was not a lie really), I had much more influence than before. Naturally, I had taken the role of a quasi-steward and had set out to rearrange the household into a more easily manageable system.

Jobs were taken up by just about anyone who claimed they could cook or sweep a broom, with no background checks whatsoever. I had been surprised the Braavosi hadn't murked us a la Joffrey much, much earlier. Just about anyone could get a job and few knew of hygienic practices. After laying down some ground rules that consisted of the practice of regular handwashing, I set about to clean up the mess that the previous Lords of the Tides had made.

The castle hierarchy was puzzling no matter what way you went about it. even without taking into consideration the differences between the slowly westernising Driftmark to the very eastern Dragonstone. Even figuring out who was who had been a pain. The castellan was basically tasked with the defense of the castle, the steward with its day-to-day running. The reeve acted as the chief magistrate of the town while the marshal overlooked the cavalry of House Velaryon. Then came bailiffs who acted as pseudo-accountants who fought for control over patrols with the master-at-arms.

Naturally, they all fought for dominance in their spheres of work, even if that meant doing their jobs poorly.

The ultimate power now was vested in the castellan who oversaw the duties of the rest. The steward overlooked finances while the reeve acted as a representative of House Velaryon rather than being a power in his own right.

We made sure that everyone who worked in the directory knew how to read numbers and the names of the supplies sent. They were taught how to measure by weight to ensure no discrepancies were made before accepting any purchase from any merchant. More experienced servants would teach the younger ones the ropes and weekly inventory would be done, to be checked, double checked and triple checked regularly.

Surprisingly, cousin Daenora was especially fond of bureaucracy and made it a point to visit when I needed to subtly insinuate anyone who didn't listen to my demands would end up barbequed. The girl was truly a frightening Victorian figure at heart.

Of course, Aethan needed to accompany us given the title of Lord of the Tides would eventually fall to him one day and he did not want to end up as idle as his father (although mayhaps I am being a bit too harsh). Though not quite as good with numbers as his sister, he did try. And very hard at that.

All while the youngest Velaryon sibling begged anyone who gave him the time of the day to play at knights with him.

The ultimate cherry on top was the introduction of human resources and paperwork, a set-up that was very, very pleasing to look at. People were paid on time, hours were clocked in, sexual harassers were cut off (or worse) and people lazing about at the job would be reprimanded.

I was overworked all things considered given this was on top of my normal cupbearer duties.

But, overall? Not bad for my first year.

Maester Coleman thought me brilliant for it and had sent a report to the Citadel over my findings. While I should have been proud, Coleman might again one day murder me and Vhagar when the Citadel and the Faith inevitably deem me to be the personification of the Stranger so I accepted his approval with cool grace.

Praise aside, my attempts at making this world moderately better had fallen quite short. Other than the four-field crop rotation that had only incremented the yield by so much given it was still seeing its first year and my ships, my only inventions had leaned into the more administrative side of things.

At the very least I had gotten the carrot on the stick with my uncle being the rabbit. Imply to a man you know how to make Valyrian Steel and he'll treat you like you're Jesus Christ come again (again, not that it wasn't true).

But alas, all good things must end eventually (even if it meant temporarily).

And thus, I found myself back on Dragonstone for a short visit.

Her brother had called on Dragonstone eleven moons after her son's fostering had begun, bringing with him three ships, his wife, his children, and twenty household knights. They came dressed in the Velaryon colors, sea-green on a field of silver. Her young nephews Aethan and Corlys were handsome in silk trimmed with cloth of silver, her niece resplendent in a gown of silk and Myrish lace. While it was not the first time Valaena would see her kin in the moons since Viserys' departure, the visits themselves had been far-flung and few, as clashes in their schedules and the beginning of autumn saw them fraught with obligations.

They met at the docks where the dragon ships of her son had docked. Viserys had made mention of it time and time again in his letters, mentions of ship designs and sail arrangement that had all but eluded her completely. Yet, as she finally took in the ship, she could not help but feel impressed. The ship had a deep hull encased in a layer of bright copper and was four-masted, carrying more sail than the eye could see. Printed in a flourish of silver paint on either side of the bow was the name the Millenium Falcon.

She was not the only one impressed. Aegon's lips extended into a smile as he mooned over the design while little Rhaenys clapped her hands in excitement as the Velaryons made their way down the gangway. Even her love could not help but gawk at it.

"Sister," Daemon said, greeting her with a swift embrace, "It is good to see you are well."

Valaena accepted the hug readily. "I am pleased to see you and yours are fine as well, dear brother. I do not suppose you have seen my son?"

The mention of Viserys made his smile deepen. "He insisted on flying to Dragonstone. A willful child if ever there was one. Yet, one cannot question the decision of a dragonrider, even one as young as he is."

The mention of her son's pertinacity made her frown. "I hope he has not given you any trouble, Daemon."

Her brother waved a hand in dismissal, lilac eyes more amused than upset. "Your boy has been very useful to have around. I doubt there will be a more capable Archon of Dragonstone than him."

Just as he spoke, a dark figure engulfed them all in its shadow, leathery wings spread wide like the canvas of the sails on the ship. A loud rumble drowned out all other sounds, the song of dragons.

"It seems he has arrived," Daemon noted casually, as if it were no more than a regular occurrence. ***
The bronze dragon had filled out the courtyard when their party finally reached the castle walls. Her middle slumped against the floor, Vhagar gorged herself on a freshly slaughtered goat, paying no heed to the horses that wheeled around. Her saddle had been removed and from what Valaena could see she had grown larger in the months she had been gone. Her wingspan had lengthened even more while her body had bulked up even more.

Standing next to the massive figure was her comparatively tiny son, garbed in his black riding gear, and a black and red cloak with a black whip curled into one gloved hand. He had grown taller in the moons since she had last seen him. His hair had grown well past his shoulders, he had grown even taller and he had lost some of the pudginess in his cheeks in favour of more angular features. He had one hand pressed against Vhagar's scales, eyes staring blankly at the ground.

"Dwagon!"

Rhaenys' small legs made haste towards Vhagar while Aegon clambered after her, making Aerion chuckle.

"That girl is mad for dragons," he mused, "Let us go greet our son, dearest."

Viserys greeted Rhaenys with an affectionate pat on the head before accepting Aegon's embrace. Then, his eyes fleeted around, as if looking for someone before they fell onto Valaena. His lips extended into a smile as he parted ways from his siblings to make his way to her.

"Mama," he said politely, "It is good to see you again."

Valaena bent down to kiss him on the cheek. He accepted her embrace readily.

"My sweet boy," she rose back up, "You have grown so much since I last saw you, my little dragon."

Her boy blushed. "I am still shorter than Aethan unfortunately. Although you flatter me, mama. I do not suppose you know where Orys is? I am excited to see him again."

The mention of Aerion's bastard made her smile curdle like sour milk.

Valaena did not hold anything against the boy, not truly. He had been the product of a quarrel born between the two of them before they had even wed, when her uncle's dark shadow loomed over a relationship that had been loving from the day they had met. But bastards were anything but useful, and his continuing presence annoyed her even now, a sign of infidelity, of Aerion's shame. How many tales had been wrought of bastards stealing the keeps and castles of their trueborn brothers? Her son loved the boy, she knew that. Yet, that love would breed weakness. He shared a claim to Dragonstone, no matter how weak it may be, and his close proximity to her son always bothered her. And he vaguely had Aerion's countenance despite the black hair that denoted his mongrel blood. All it took was some rebellious son or grandson of his claiming a dragon and eventually usurping the rightful line. It had happened once before, had it not? The only reason she hadn't sent him away like her husband had been so ready to acquiesce to was because of her children's fondness for the boy.

"Inside," Aerion interjected immediately, wincing, "He is eager to see you."

The mention made Viserys frown though he nodded. "I am eager to see him too," he replied, "And I do have a hunger about me. Will there be a feast?"

His words made her laugh despite herself. Instinctively, she bent down and pressed another kiss to his brow. "Of course, sweetling. But first, you must get changed."

Viserys grinned brightly. "Of course, mother."

As the procession moved in a thin and disorderly column, Orys could not help but sulk at them behind the slight opening between the oaken door and the wall. At its head was his father, dressed in a scarlet silk tunic decorated with golden geometric shapes and pearls that ended at his knees, scarlet shoes made of velvet with golden stitching at the sides, and a long purple mantle trimmed with gold flowed down to his calves, a golden double-headed dragon clasp keeping it together. He spoke animatedly to Lord Velaryon who was dressed in his finest: white Myrish lace erupting from cloth-of-silver cuffs on a tunic of sea-green silk and blue silk trousers accompanied by high black boots. His lady wife had an arm hooked around Lady Valaena's while his children rushed forward excitedly, gushing over empty suits of bronze armour and tapestries that had been brought by his ancestors from Valyria.

His favourite brother walked at a languorous pace, lips pursed while his eyes examined the room surgically, leaving neither a crook nor a cranny unobserved. His face was locked in a frown and his hand coiled and uncoiled around the handle of his whip, all while Rhaenys tugged endlessly at his trousers and Aegon attempted to drag him by the hand.

His indigo eyes flickered back to Aegon before he leaned over and whispered something in their brother's ear. The boy listened, face confused before his mouth opened and he shrugged. Viserys' frown deepened. Curling the fingers of his right hand around the door, Orys stuck out his head and whisper-yelled his brother's name.

Viserys jolted, head snapping to either side in an attempt to catch the sight of him before he zeroed in on Orys. Smiling, he excused himself before rushing to meet Orys in the room. The door swung open, ajar enough to allow Viserys to slip through before Orys gently shut the door.

"You got taller," was the first thing he said as he beheld his brother for the first time in nearly a year. Viserys chuckled.

"Still shorter than you," he lamented before offering Orys a hug. Orys accepted it.

"I did not see you outside," Viserys noted after pulling away as he leaned against the wall, "I had thought you did not want to see me."

Orys let out a mirthless laugh. "The Archontissa thought it would be an insult to bring her husband's bastard to greet her family."

She hardly wanted me here at all with you gone, he thought acridly.

Orys did not intend to have the words sound as bitter as they did but he could not help it. Viserys sighed.

"Well, I am glad to see you," Viserys offered warmly, the slightest of smiles dancing on his lips. It briefly lifted Orys' spirits. "My time at Driftmark was a bore though a productive one. I have gained allies, you see."

"Lord Velaryon?"

Orys could somewhat remember Viserys making mention of poaching Lord Velaryon as one of the supporters of his conquest.

The boy nodded. "While I do not exert as much influence as I would like to, I do now have a power base of my own albeit a small one. But enough about me. How have you been?"

Lonely, he might have said. While he truly adored his younger siblings, even they could not fill in the hole Viserys had left behind. Rhaenys was still a babe, close to turning two namedays old yet still too young to play with. Aegon was a close companion yet even he did not play at wars and conquests as well as Viserys did. And the Archontissa's presence was scarcely the most welcoming. He'd even found himself at his grandsire's manse more oft of late.

Instead, he plastered on a smile and clasped a hand onto his brother's shoulder. "Hungry," he forced out, "I am pleased you are here again. We should get changed for the feast."

Viserys' nose crinkled at the thought. "I hate feasts," he complained, "They're a waste of time."

"It is held in your honor."

"Even worse," he bemoaned.

Orys could not help the smile that crept up his features. It was good to have his brother back, even if only for three days. ***
"Let's get this started," his cousin began, perched over the thin slab of carved wood he had placed on the table. The table itself was made of goldenheart wood; its feet made to resemble that of a dragon's while elaborate carvings that showed off the days of the Freehold were frozen in time; scenes of dragons and men and women dressed in royal regalia. Aethan's finger traced the outline absentmindedly while Viserys tossed the ivory dice back into the air and watched it fall back into his palm.

Little metal figurines all stood still on the large square carved onto the edge of the board, with a "GO" carved into the wood, painted over in black while a straight arrow pointing westwards was covered in red.

"I'll roll first," Viserys began, two ivory dice hidden within his intertwined hands. The glow of the hearth made his silvery hair more golden than it actually was and made Aethan's cheeks flush from the heat. A room away, Aethan could still hear the adults still talking.

The feast had been boring, with the adults and Viserys all engrossed in a tedious conversation about his recent exploits at Driftmark. Aethan had been eager to join in when they had talked about ships but when Viserys had begun talking about plants and something about crop rotation and the fertility of volcanic soil, Aethan had almost dozed off. Corlys had long fallen asleep by the time they had somehow managed to pull Viserys away from their parents to test out the new game he had invented on Driftmark.

"Come on," his cousin muttered to himself, "Daddy needs a new pair of shoes!"

It was not the first time his cousin used such a phrase. Yet, it still made no sense to Aethan. Viserys had tooled leather shoes on and they didn't look worn down at all. In fact, large rubies were sewn onto the leather, making them glitter like blood in the glow of the oil lamp. Even then, he knew better than to ask. His cousin was too wise to speak nonsense.

The dice rolled out of his palm and onto the table, one face showing off a perfect six while the other rolled three. Viserys grinned maniacally.

"Out," he said, pumping his fists up in the air before taking the dragon-shaped bronze figurine out of the "GO" box and moving it nine places to the right.

"The three bells of Norvos, Noom, Narrah, and Nyel," Daenora, who was acting as the banker, noted, "Will you buy it?"

"Bought," he said, pressing two iron coins stamped with a hundred and a twenty respectively stamped on the coins into her palm. Daenora thumbed through the small sheets of parchment until her eyes fell upon the bells. Then, she handed it to Viserys who grinned.

"My turn now," Viserys' bastard brother said solemnly, reaching for the dice. Aethan did not know what to think of the boy in truth. Father had been most displeased by the presence of the bastard, even as hidden as he was, though Viserys had only been happy to see him, and insisted he attend the feast. Many a time he had told Aethan about his older half-brother back on Driftmark. Viserys spoke of him often and fondly, of how the boy had secretly helped him claim Vhagar. While Aethan would not consider him a friend yet, he did not seem as bad as his father made him out to be. His dark hair was not the gold and silver of the Valyrians but he did have dark purple, almost black, eyes which must have counted for something. Orys took only a moment to roll them. A five peered upwards on one die while a one glanced up on the other one. Orys pouted.

"It's a six," he protested, "I should be able to move."

"It's against the rules," Aethan pointed out, "It's my turn now."

Orys sent his brother a pleading look but Viserys only sighed. "Rules are rules, Orys. It's Aethan's turn now."

Aethan's luck was with him today. He rolled two sixes, rolled again to get a five and a two, which left his silver knight ten places in front of his nearest competitor. He happily moved his knight up nineteen paces until it landed on the triangular motif just one shy of the Free Stables and smiled smugly.

"The... The," Aegon said slowly, squinting.

"The Great Pyramid of Ghis," Viserys stated with a sigh.

"I'll buy it."

Aethan tossed two coins stamped with a hundred on each to his sister who caught it gracefully. She flicked through the cards again, plucked out the card with the Great Pyramid written on it, and handed it to Aethan.

"My turn," Aegon said, grabbing the dice forcefully into his chubby hands. He rolled, got a one and a two, and sulked. Aethan fought back the urge to laugh at his cousin's glum face. He knew better than to inflame Aegon. The boy was still a child of four namedays after all.

"Rhaenys," Viserys called out, "Your turn."

While the girl was still too young to play by herself, it seemed rude to exclude her. Thus, it was decided that she would be helped by Daenora. It would level the playing ground and ensure she would not feel left out. Rhaenys grabbed the dice and rolled. She got a six and a three. Her golden crowned queen was moved by Viserys on her behalf, all while she asked Daenora an endless list of questions.

"Pay up, sister," he said smugly. Rhaenys' brows furrowed in confusion while Daenora sighed. Two coins flew into Viserys' palm, making him send Aethan's sister a satisified look.

"My turn."

The dice went back to Viserys.

"Fourteen, give me luck," he said in prayer before letting it fall back onto the board. He rolled a five and a four. Aethan groaned. One more and Viserys would have landed on his keep.

"The Black Walls of Volantis," Daenora said, leaning over the board, "Will you buy it, cousin?"

"Taken," he quipped, dropping a pile of coins into Aethan's sister's hands. Daenora counted them meticulously, placing each in their respective sacks before handing Viserys the card for. He pressed the card briefly to his lips before setting it beside his other card. Orys took the dice in hand.

"Six and one," Viserys noted, "A chance card."

Orys hunched over the board and filched one piece of parchment from the pile in the middle. "Get out of dungeon free," he grinned.

"Lucky," Viserys said, digging his elbow into his half-brother's ribs. The action only made his elder brother laugh.

"My turn."

Whispering a silent prayer to the Seven, Aethan let the dice fall onto the board. He rolled a four and a two.

"The Citadel," Daenora said solemnly.

"Bought," he answered, dropping the coins into her palm.

Viserys' face soured. "I still do not get why you insisted on having the Citadel be in the game."

"It's the centre of learning of Westeros," Aethan pointed out to his cousin's annoyance. Viserys only scowled. His distaste of maesters and the Citadel was well known to Aethan. He didn't even like Maester Coleman who taught them their lessons. It was all too puzzling to him. While being a maester was not a life he saw himself leading, Maester Coleman was not so bad. Sure his lessons were dull and repetitious, but it could not be helped.

"It ruins my game," he said bitterly, "The Starry Sept alone should have satisfied you."

Daenora only looked on non-plussed. "You are the one who asked for ideas," she pointed out fiercely, one sack of coins clinking together in her right hand. "And not everything could have been Essosi."

"You peer pressured me into putting it in," Viserys sulked.

"Pear what?" Aethan's eyebrows crawled up his face as he frowned, "What does that even mean?"

Viserys sighed. "Nothing," he said solemnly, "Nothing."

"My turn," Aegon greedily grasped for the dice and rolled them again. He got a three and a one which clearly did not please him. His eyebrows crossed together to form a v-shape while his lips wobbled. His hands clutched the board tightly and his eyes glossed over.

"Oh no." Viserys stood up, "Aegon, don-"

It was too late. The pieces all flew high in the air as the board was overturned, cards and figurines falling everywhere while Viserys made a move to grab it desperately. He caught it clumsily with his left hand while the metal pieces and all the cards all fell onto his right hand, making him use a curse word that made Daenora cover Rhaenys' ears.

By then, Aegon had begun crying and was making his way to the common room where their parents were, sobs erupting from his lips. That of course set little Rhaenys into crying which only worsened the situation. All while Viserys' right eye twitched.

"I really hate Westeros," Viserys said through gritted teeth.

A/N: 3 out of 21. About halfway into the childhood arc, and a few chapters before we start seeing how the true scions of Valyria ruled. Hope you stay tuned for when the eccentric boy becomes the austere, unforgiving man.