Hello! It's me, here with another brand new chapter!

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Thanks to Titosch, old man of the mountain, and Rus of Discord for helping me!

Velaryon III

"Is something wrong with the fireplace, my lord husband? Shall I fetch a servant to douse it?"

The elder Velaryon gave a glance to his wife before returning his stare to the blazing wood, tongues of flames flickering in and out of the steel cage. One hand was idly fiddling with his sea-blue robes while the other held a silver chalice of Arbor Gold, its gentle sloshing almost drowned out by the sound of flames. It was calming, in a manner. "No, it is not the fire that bothers me. Though I am afraid I might toss something into it."

Rhaenys tapped her manicured finger on the delicately carved armrest of her chair. "Then it is Daemon. What has he done now?"

"What makes you think it is him? Better yet, what makes you think that I am troubled?"

His wife shot him an exasperated look. "Corlys, I have been your wife for more than ten years. Since the day you took me as your wife, I have stuck by your side on every occasion, save for my pregnancy with our twins. Your tells have become as open as those charts on your table. Every time you returned from a Small Council meeting and sulked like this, that meant either Otto Hightower pushed back your requests for aid on the Stepstones or anything related to trade, or Daemon made a comment or acted in a manner that ruffled your feathers. Since our dear Hand is not present, only one option remains logical."

This time, Corlys's stare remained on Rhaenys, his head tilted in curiosity and slight amusement. "Oh? Quite an assumption you make, my dear. Perhaps it is a missive I received from Ser Otto that rankles me so. Or maybe it is Vaemond offering another complaint, as he is wont to."

Rhaenys simply countered with a delicate eyebrow raised and a swirl of her goblet. "Hightower would not contact you unless on order from the King, and last I heard Vaemond has gone quiet since overseeing new trading orders from Pentos. And so, there remains Daemon."

A moment later, he let out an amused chuckle. "Am I that transparent, wife?"

The corner of Rhaenys's lips curved upwards, her finger now twirling a lock of black-and-silver hair. The Lord of House Velaryon closed his eyes and exhaled. "Yes, it is Daemon. I have half a mind to order his confinement to his quarters, goodson or no."

"What has he done this time?" she asked. Corlys took a sip of his wine and began regaling his wife with the events his daughter witnessed not hours ago.

"Daemon has challenged our new guest Albaz to spar with his Valyrian steel sword, right after the evening meal. And before that, he goaded the boy to…change into his dragon form."

Rhaenysgaped in shock. "He did what!?"

"Thankfully, Laena and Lady Ecclesia managed to avert a catastrophe," he continued, gesturing for her to relax. "Nothing was damaged, save for the Prince's pride, and our guests will join us for dinner. Whether a spar will occur or not, Laena doesn't know."

He rubbed his forehead as the heat of the fireplace spread throughout the room. Rhaenys looked between him and her cup. "Why are you not confronting him?"

He hummed momentarily and then spoke, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "...a man's curiosity can be a terrible thing."

She paused, then gave a slow nod as he saw the understanding flash in her lilac eyes. "You wish to see a further glimpse of the boy's power."

He nodded. "They have not ventured far from their room and the nearby quarters since they came to the island. I posted guards next to their rooms, but I did not order them to restrict any movements, as long as it was inside the castle." He rested his cup on a small table and steepled his fingers. "I would not bet a copper that word of them hasn't spread through the servants, and I've heard that the visiting nobles have taken to lingering in the courtyards more than usual."

"A controlled demonstration. To show the new power our House has added to its stables." Rhaneys said. "But why not wait till we visit the King? The Red Keep would yield a far greater audience -" she paused again and Corlys could envision the writings of his plan forming in her mind. "No, you wish to establish that this is a Velaryon discovery first and foremost. The King will have his due naturally, but the first ties are the most important. Word will spread, and more will come to seek them out - through us." She tapped her chin in contemplation. "I recall that Lord Rosby has sent an envoy here, but who else?"

"Lord Stokesworth's nephew, Simon, is squiring for one of our knights, and he is in regular correspondence with his uncle. The recently knighted Ser Emmon Hewett visited me yesterday for possible protection against Ironborn on his House's behalf. Some minor houses from the Westerlands and the Reach have all sent representatives, to bargain and make deals with each other, mostly. A Manderly ship was supposed to have arrived two days ago, but they ran afoul of riptides which damaged their ship. They were forced to dock in Lannisport for repairs. Not to mention the captains and merchants from Dorne and Essos who regularly visit here for trade. " His turned contemplative, his gaze turning upwards to the white-stone ceiling. "Hmm, upon reflection, a bit more varied than I thought. Almost every region of the kingdom has a representative here. Yes, yes, that should prove advantageous."

"Shall I tell the cooks to prepare more meals?"

"No, I still wish for supper to be somewhat restrained. Though perhaps the training yard should be made open to all for a while. It will allow for both privacy and exposure." He got up and dusted his gold-laced doublet. "If you shall excuse me, wife, I must leave to sow the seeds."

He reached for the door of his study, but Rhaenys asked one more question. "This has nothing to do with a sudden desire to offer an eggcup of humility our dear goodson?"

The corner of his lips twitched. "The wine must be stronger than you thought my dear. I would never dream of humiliating a Prince of the Realm."

Arrangements were made swiftly and did not require much change from the servants. The steward reported that some of the finest catches of the day - straight from the bay's waters - would be present for the small feast, and the small glass house would offer their ripest fruit. He lingered in the main halls and idly stroke up conversation with his noble guests, slipping words of potential new knights and recruits to House Velaryon's bannermen; which was no falsehood. And voices may have been raised when a merchant or other eavesdropper passed by him…like small waves buffeting a ship's side, a vessel would surely veer off its course. Only this time, the waves were his will.

Soon enough, the sun had dimmed and the tail of the Ice Dragon had begun to show itself among the heavens. The Velaryons had gathered in their dining hall, a cavernous room with holes carved into the pale-stone walls so that the scent of the sea drifted and mixed with the aroma of the food. The silk curtains were embroidered with all manner of fish and sea creatures, glistening against sunlight and torchlight. Corlys dressed himself in a resplendent azure robe with white and green stripes, a gift from a friend in Tyrosh, over a patterned tunic. His wife had donned a modest dark blue skirt with sashes of red and black, a nod to her Targaryen blood. Together they stood at the head of the carved table as faint footsteps grew louder just outside the hall doors. A knock rang out and Corlys responded with an "Enter!"

Inside walked Laena and their two guests. His daughter was dressed in her mother's old gowns from her age, and he did not hold back the smile and burst of pride within him as she approached and kissed him on the cheek. Truly, she had excelled in her duties as of late. Behind her Albaz and Ecclesia walked in side by side, their gazes looking all over the hall. The girl wore one of Laena's old dresses, an open-collar one with white and gold linings. Albaz wore a dark-purple tunic and robe that once belonged to Laenor, now outgrown. Her gaze landed on him and she gave a quick and slight bow. The pale-haired boy noticed his companion's action and did likewise, his sharp red eye resting on the table.

"Good evening, Albaz, Lady Ecclesia. I would like to say that I apologize for not inviting you sooner and properly speaking with you. Matters of importance came to my attention when we returned from Pentos, and I would like to remedy that by inviting you to this modest feast." He gestured to the table. "I trust my daughter has helped you settle in?"

Laena relayed his words in Volantene - reminding him that the merchant he hired to serve as a tutor would arrive any day now, Seven protect him - and Ecclesia smiled, replying in her soft voice.

"She says that I have been very kind to her and her friend, and thanks you for inviting them. She understands that you are a busy man." He waved her off and gestured to two chairs, seated next to Laena's.

"Yet you are my guests, and I have neglected you. Come, let us eat and be merry." A translation later and the two nodded, heading to their seats. Laena looked around and turned to him with a questioning look.

"Where are Daemon and my daughters?"

"He has taken them to visit the port and see the latest wares. Though I told him to be here, so I don't know-" He was cut off as the doors opened again and in stepped the man in question, followed by his beloved Baela and Rhaena.

"Goodfather, Rhaenys, wife," he greeted, with only the barest of nods to their guests. The girls were not nearly as restrained, rushing toward their mother with their arms outstretched. Laena quickly hugged them and kissed their temples, delighted by their presence. They then curtseyed to him and his wife, as expected, before landing their gazes on Albaz and Ecclesia. The two went to them and began asking, but Laena quickly shooed them off to their seats. They pouted at first, but their stares did not drop as they made their way around the table. While the boy looked confused, Ecclesia smiled and waved at them, causing them to wave back. Daemon quietly at the display and Corlys shot him a look, doing nothing to stop the smirk on his face.

As the Head of his House, Corlys took his seat first, followed by his wife, and then the rest of the table. With calm gusto the feast began; loaves of freshly baked white bread alongside wedges of cheese, and roasted peppers stuffed with herbs and mushrooms. Salads of mashed pease and sweetcorn were served on beds of dried kelp, an innovation from Yi-Ti. For the meats, there was crisp-skin salmon slathered in wine sauce alongside slices of ham steak with cooked onions and saffron. It was a microcosm of Corlys's wealth, a representation of the splendor that his voyages had brought his house.

The only thing that broke the image was their two guests, though Lord Velaryon couldn't decide if that was a bad thing. Much like in Pentos, the two scarfed down the food at alarming speeds, moreso Ecclesia than Albaz. They were not even savage or uncouth about it; they would simply cut and eat whatever was on their plate so fast he thought it a blur, only for them to reach and place more on the plate. the rate they were going through the food was simply mind-boggling! If he hadn't seen them eat like this in Pentos and ordered the cooks to prepare extra, he would've been stupefied.

What did surprise him was the fact that Daemon did nothing but raise an eyebrow at the sight, eating from his plate all the while; he would have thought a stray comment would slither from his mouth. Thankfully, his grandchildren were engaged in conversations of their own, eating their meals at a rapid, yet far more moderate pace. Their port visit must have tired them out. Laena simply looked amused.

"I had thought that the dinner with the Prince of Pentos was due to their time feeding off Valyria," Rhaenys whispered. "The servants only prepared for them a course for each meal but…if this is their regular consumption we shall have to request more meat from the Crownlands."

"We already have to feed dragons," he replied. "Only this one is more human in appearance than the rest. He seems to like the fish; if so, then an additional fishing galley to the daily patrols will suffice."

"And Lady Ecclesia?"

"...perhaps it is her warrior's strength? Fit soldiers and knights require more food than most men." Honestly, Corlys had no idea how she could consume that much food, nor did he wish to know. That was a thought best left to rest.

After the main courses were done, sweets of jellies, lemon cakes and apple crisps were served as a finisher. Those were quickly consumed as well, the two guests now sporting wide smiles. Corlys did the same, albeit for different reasons.

When the meal was finally finished, Ecclesia inclined her head to him and spoke, which Laena quickly interpreted. "Lady Ecclesia wishes to thank you for the meal and your hospitality. She and Albaz especially enjoyed the sweets and jellies."

"I will be sure to ask the cooks to prepare extras for the future," he replied. If that would have been the end of the day, he would have been satisfied. Alas, as he feared and somewhat hoped for, Daemon got up and spoke for the first time since arriving. "I will be at the yard; my offer still stands for you, Albaz."

With that, he turned and left the room, the twins looking back and forth between their father and the dragon-boy. Laena relayed the words to them and their smiles dropped a tad. Ecclesia placed an arm on his shoulder, making him face her as she spoke softly, not enough for him to hear. The boy was silent for a moment, before nodding and getting up from his seat. He gave them a short nod and he also proceeded to leave, but not before Corlys caught something in his expression.

A fire had been lit in that ruby eye. One that he had seen in many of his men before a battle or a tourney. He would not back down. Whether it was because of pride or something else, the boy would answer Daemon's challenge.

Ecclesia quickly ran after him, thanking them as she did. Only he, his wife Laena, and her daughters remained, staring at the door.

"Grandfather, what did father mean? What did he offer…Albaz?" Baela asked, the name itself posed as a question.

"Yes, his name is Albaz, and I believe we will have an answer shortly. Laena, summon some of my Household Guard to escort us to the training yard after you've cleaned your daughters up." Corlys finally rose and headed to his solar at a rapid pace. This was not an event he could afford to miss. After penning some letters and dealing with a last-minute meeting with one of his tradesmen, he donned his riding boots and hooked his sword belt around his robes, the sword itself securely in place. His current clothing, while a touch more delicate than he would've liked for an outing, would suffice well enough. At worst, he could easily order the seamstresses to mend it.

He descended once more to the main hallway, a contingent of guards surrounding him, breastplates blazed with the Velaryon seahorse. Minutes later, the women of his House arrived as well, a smaller group of guardsmen accompanying them. "Grandfather, what is going on?" asked Rhaena. "Why are we going to the training yard? Is Father going to duel Ser Albaz?"

"We will see, sweetlings," he replied. Though Albaz was not a knight or a noble, he did not correct his daughter.

The group made their way down the white steps and walkways of the keep until the ringing of clashing steel could be heard, and the idle talk of men. When they arrived at the large stairway overshadowing the yard, Corlys looked down at the scene. Daemon was there, clad in leather armor and steel braces, facing off against Ser Hewett, who much like his sigil, bore a sturdy wooden shield with studded metal on his left hand. The two men advanced fast, their blunted training swords clanging against one another. The onlookers around them cheered them on, the older knights taunting both men, the merchants subtly passing coins to one another in bets, and the young squires and retainers - young Simon Stokesworth among them - looking on with admiration and envy. Atop the higher walkways and balconies, Corlys spotted gaggles of noble ladies and merchant wives and daughters whispering to one another and gesturing to the men below. The corners of Lord Velaryon's lips rose; it felt good to see seeds bearing fruit. He could only hope that the rest of the evening would go as planned.

Ser Hewett finally gave way as Daemon struck his shield so hard it splintered and slashed him across his vest. The knight fell on his side and the prince pointed his sword at his face, standing over him. "Not so solid as oak, are we?" he mocked, playing on House Hewett's words. The men surrounding them laughed, with some clapping and grunting as they passed each other coins. Ser Hewett flushed red, but simply picked himself up and bowed to the prince. Daemon waved him off, basking in the adoration of the gathered. His eyes met Corlys's and gave a near imperceptible nod. He inwardly shook his head; barely an hour in the yard and he had already riled up potential allies.

The Velaryons descended upon the crowd, flanked by their guardsmen. The audience parted and made way for them, bowing in deference to their hosts. A few of the ladies had snuck up to the rear and curtsied to him and Rhaenys, prompting the pair to nod in return.

"I thank you for joining us goodfather, wife. If you're looking for a spar, you may have your pick of the men, though I must warn you, Ser Hewett might be a bit too roughed up for the day."

The aforementioned Ser grumbled as the crowd chuckled, though he seemed far more mellow than anticipated. Daemon made a show of looking around, gauging potential opponents. Though Corlys knew exactly who he wanted to challenge, the individual in question was not present yet. After a minute, the Prince puffed himself up and addressed the audience. "Would anyone else like to test themselves? Or am I surrounded by cravens?"

The men bristled at the remark and one stepped out of the crowd, already in armor. "If you'll do me the honor, my Prince, I will be glad to test my blade against yours." The man was broad-shouldered and dark of hair, and a thin beard covered his roundish chin. Daemon looked him up and down appraisingly. "And who are you exactly?"

"Ser Cedric Crakehall, my Prince." He took a step closer and his eyes narrowed. "And compared to the rest of this lot, none are fiercer."

"The boars of the Westerlands…" Daemon muttered. "Very well, we shall see if your house words ring true." Ser Crakehall nodded and headed to a nearby weapons rack, drawing another training sword, longer than Ser Hewett's. The two men took their positions and began their spar. It was a light affair at first, sensory blows to gauge their respective opponent's strength, but Corlys knew that the Rogue Prince's fury would rear its head soon.

Waving his guards off, Corlys blended into the crowd of noblemen, who gave him short bows and nods of greeting. One of them stepped forward and smiled genially. "Lord Velaryon. A good evening to you and your family. I must say, I did not take you for watching spars in the yard."

The silver-haired lord smiled back. "While I am more focused on matters of trade and tactics these days, I am not averse to watching men prove their worth, goodman. I must confess that while you seem familiar, I do not recall your name."

"My name is Jonos Mallister, my lord. We met briefly at King's Landing many moons ago, to discuss trade shipments on Lord Lymond's behalf." Corlys observed the man for a moment, taking in his doublet with purple-and-white linings before a memory rang in his head.

"Ah yes, I do recall that discussion. You are Ser Ryman's cousin? He was a contender for the Kingsguard."

The thin-faced man chuckled. "Yes, my cousin was quite sore for losing to Ser Criston; he wouldn't shut up about it for a whole year. I've heard little from him I'm afraid, he headed over to Essos half a year ago and has been there ever since. Lord Lymond was quite put off, even though we are a cadet branch. Ser Ryman was - and is, one of our best."

Corlys shook his head genially. Jonos turned to his side and both men observed the spar. Daemon had tried slashing his opponent's leg only to be met with a block, and now was slowly being pushed back.

"Speaking of Essos…would you humor me for a moment, my lord? It is just that I have heard some extraordinary rumors as of late and they have gnawed on my mind like barnacles on shipwood." After seeing Corlys nod, he continued. "There have been tales of a voyage to Pentos, and with them, new visitors to your house from Volantis, and the details about them range from vague to ridiculous."

Corlys couldn't help but notice that the men surrounding them had gone quiet. "A bastard Lannister and a Valyrian some say. Others say an escaped daughter of a Magister and her slave lover. Why, the most outrageous one I've heard is that one was the spawn of a dragon and a maiden!"

Scoffs were heard and the Lord Velaryon turned to Jonos, who kept his smile though his gaze had turned deeply inquisitive. "Those are…quite the claims, goodman Mallister. I have heard some of them myself beforehand. I can assure you that House Velaryon does not dabble in baseless rumors and mummery."

Jonos slightly frowned and Corlys inwardly smirked. Words may be wind, yet even wind can move trees. To play the game like this, controlling information and choosing your words - he could see the appreciation some lords had for it.

A yell drew their attention as Daemon thrust forward and knocked Ser Crakehall on his back. Another round of applause came and he flashed the men a smile while sending a wink to the ladies, who giggled and whispered. He turned around to see Laena rolling her eyes while Rhaenys looked unamused.

"It seems your words have some merit, Ser Crakehall. The charging boars of the Westerlands indeed. But a boar will always be eaten by a dragon." Cedric smiled at the compliment, despite the insulting tone in which Daemon had delivered it. Then again, that was his normal tone for almost everything. He searched the crowd for a bit, no doubt looking for his next opponent before he stopped…but looked over the crowd. "Ah, I see my main challenger for today has deemed to show himself."

The crowd turned their heads as one and loud gasps erupted all around him. Sure enough, standing on the white steps leading to the yard was none other than Albaz.

Corlys stared at the boy as he made his way down the stairs, unheeding the whispers erupting around him. Unlike his supper robes, he changed to the strange coat he wore in Old Valyria, black, bejeweled, and bare-chested. His grey skin and pointed ears further added to his mystical image, and when he turned his open red eye to the audience, Corlys heard the drawing of blades from their sheathes, and the Mallister man next to his mutter a prayer to the Seven.

He moved to intervene, but to his surprise, Daemon broke the tension and spoke. "Do not worry about them, they will not interfere in our little spar if they know what's good for their health." He waved the crowd off, both as a sign of assurance and an unmistakable warning.

If you try anything, I will end you.

The boy tilted his head at Daemon before resuming his walk until he stood in the yard. The prince gave him a look-over and slowly approached him. Albaz tensed and looked ready to attack, but thankfully Daemon did nothing rash and only stood an arm's length away from him. "An unusual choice of attire for a spar. Do you truly underestimate me so?"

No answer came from the boy, then the prince sighed. "No matter; here our blades will do the talking," He showed him the training sword. "I assume you brought yours?"

Albaz slowly reached into his coat and pulled out the longsword - or rather something between that and a shortsword, Corlys couldn't tell - he had taken from Valyria's smoky ruins. A new wave of whispers and mutters filled the yard as the smoky ripples of Valyrian steel gleamed off the torchlight. The flares of the crossguard shone with the faint light of gold and were shaped like a dragon's wings.

"Lord Corlys, what is this?" hissed the Mallister, staring at the scene with intensity. The silver-haired lord smirked. "As I said, goodman Jonos, my house does not deal with baseless rumors." He slightly raised his voice, catching the attention of those around him. "I am privy to the whisperings of Driftmark since our return from Essos, and they have greatly amused me. As for this…you will see in due time."

Jonos turned his sharp stare on him, as did most of the surrounding men. They all appeared to be bursting with questions, though Corlys did not deign to address them. Instead, he remained focused on Daemon - which proved necessary.

"Since we must be on equal footing…boy!" he yelled at a nearby squire and gestured to the nearby wall, where a sheathed sword lay. "Fetch me Dark Sister!"

Corlys's eyes widened and he stepped forward, pushing past the nobles. "Prince Daemon! Live steel is forbidden in the yard!"

"The boy wields a Valyrian blade, Lord Velaryon. What better way for him to learn how to use it?" He countered, a smirk on his face as he spoke. "Do not worry, I have sparred against many with Aegon's blade and I know when to stop."

Corlys tried to refute that yes, Daemon was certainly skilled enough to avoid landing serious or even middling wounds, but the principle of the matter still stood, when Daemon's sharp stare lanced with his own, a challenging and calculating spark in his eye.

Did you not wish to show what your newest acquisition could do? This is the chance.

He should have expected that Daemon would try and pull a stunt like that. Loathe as he was to admit it though…this could be an opportunity. He slowly nodded and the Prince smirked as the squire handed him his sword. With a flourish, he drew it and raised it aloft. Albaz looked between Dark Sister and his own sword, his red eye widening in recognition.

"You in for a treat my lords and ladies!" He called out. "Today I shall instruct in the ways of the sword the foreign guest of the Crown and House Velaryon, Albaz of Valyria!"

Corlys turned around at the fresh wave of murmurs. The men kept looking at the boy, occasionally gesturing at him. Some had their hands on their pommels, while others had rubbed their chins or gained inquisitive gleams. The women in the balconies who didn't clutch star pendants and began to pray whispered to each other, though their stares never left the yard. The squires's looks of envy intensified and focused on the strange foreigner about to spar with the Rogue Prince himself. He saw Rhaenys frowning at Daemon and Laena retreating up the stairs, though the reason eluded him. Then he saw a flash of yellow from the top corner of the stairwell. Of course.

He returned to his former position next to the men and Jonos spoke once more, his face taut with shock. "Valyria, Lord Corlys?"

But the Sea Snake kept silent as he watched Daemon take three paces away from Albaz and settle into a guarded stance. "Whenever you are ready boy," he said, motioning with his sword. With those words, a hush had settled over the onlookers like a fur blanket, and Corlys focused his attention entirely on Albaz.

The exotic-looking boy took a few hesitant steps to the side, Daemon following his every move. Then he stepped forward in a flash and swung his sword in a sideways arc. Daemon raised his blade high and deflected the blow, yet found himself pushed to the side. The dragon-boy tried to cut and slash his opponent several times, and each time he was blocked, though Daemon found himself being pushed back, to his surprise.

His form belied his strength then.

Daemon's face grew resolute as he deflected another blow and counterattacked. He thrust and caught the boy by surprise, making him yelp as he sloppily parried the blow. Before he could move, Dark Sister stopped at his neck. He froze and Daemon smirked again, tapping the flat of the blade on his shoulder.

Despite his strength, his forms were basic. He had not used a sword often, or he hadn't fought against swordsmen before.

The prince gestured at him to come again. Albaz did so, this time switching to upward thrusts and jabs. Daemon parried most of them but once again found himself being pushed back. The boy then cut down and Daemon sidestepped, avoiding the blade that had now left a small scar on the ground. He saw the prince advance and swung upwards, but Daemon chopped at the blade and the yard echoed with the kiss of Valyrian steel. He quickly pointed his blade at Albaz's throat and tapped him again. The boy slowly got up, his passive expression morphing into a frown.

The knights near him murmured again, this time Corlys could hear the proverbial quill scratching away in their minds. To leave such a scar on the earth, seemingly a fist's length deep, even with Valyrian steel…

This time it was Daemon who advanced first, Dark Sister flying with the swiftness of a falcon. The boy stepped back, but only once, and instead of parrying, he blocked every swing and thrust by using the blade as a makeshift shield. Had the sword been anything other than Valyrian steel, the blade would have shattered like fine glass. Daemon growled and stabbed fiercely, but Albaz dodged and countered by throwing a gloved fist into the prince's face. Daemon's head swung sideways and Albaz dashed forward pointing his sword at the prince's throat, as he had done to him.

Daemon slowly turned to face the boy, who was standing barely an arm's length away, and his face briefly contorted with a raging fire, before it morphed into something akin to…excitement, perhaps? "Hah! It seems you learn quickly!" He pushed the tip of the word away and crouched into a different stance. "Let us see how well you fare now."

The air thickened with tension as Corlys heard some of the guards clench their weapons, unknowing of what would come next. The fear however had bled out from the crowd, with even some of the younger ladies beginning to eye up the foreigner. The men began switching their gaze from Albaz to Corlys discreetly, and the Sea Snake smiled inwardly at the future deals and favors he would be able to wrangle from them.

Daemon advanced first. He swung to the right and Albaz blocked, but he then twisted and swung again from the left. The boy dropped down and dodged, a snarl escaping his lips. He tried to attack again, but Daemon took a great step forward and nearly slammed himself against the boy. There was ferocity in his movements Corlys had seen only in the Stepstones. The prince kicked Albaz's leg back and he tripped, ending up with Daemon pointing Dark Sister at his face. He stepped back and the boy got up with a grunt…though Corlys swore he could see a faint shimmering around the boy's form as he bared his teeth.

Thrice more did they clash, the ringing of their Valyrian steel woven into a song that would likely inspire bards by the week. Albaz was strong, stronger than most men Corlys had seen - but his skill with a sword was basic, and enough skill would eclipse strength no matter what; Daemon was beyond him in every way in that regard, especially when it came to stopping himself. A lesser knight would have accidentally slipped up and wounded Albaz seriously. Every time the boy lost he was tapped on the shoulder, and Daemon sent a snide remark his way.

Corlys idly noticed that the crowd had grown, with servants peeping from nearby doorways and archways.

The fourth bout came. Albaz tried to punch his foe again but Daemon sidestepped and grabbed him by his coat, pointing the sword right above his heart before releasing him. "Come now, surely that is not all you have? Do not mock me, boy!"

Albaz snarled and crouched down, both of his hands gripping his sword as he pointed it down and sideways. A faint crackling reached Corlys's ears and he saw that the blade was…glowing. His breath hitched and before he could react, Albaz charged forward with a roar and swung, and as he did, his blade ignited in a crescent of flame!

The crowd yelled and the men stumbled back, grasping for their weapons. Corlys raised his hand high and they all halted, heeding the unspoken command of their host.

Daemon's eyes widened in shock and he jumped back, the trails of flames blazing in front of him. But then the grin on his face returned tenfold and he advanced with a yell. Up, down, slash, cut, their blades danced. The trails of fire scorched patches of earth below him, but Daemon remained unfazed. The boy thrust, but overextended. That was Daemon's chance, and he took it: with a mighty roar, he swung Dark Sister upwards and sent Albaz's flaming sword flying high. Before the boy could move, the prince threw a mighty punch to the boy's face, sending him stumbling back. He then knocked him down and pointed the blade at his throat, right as the flaming sword landed nearby.

"Hmph. An interesting trick you have there, boy. But in the end, flames can never harm a dragon." He poked the black coat draped over Albaz, now dirty and torn up. The boy glared at him and snarled, his hands clenching the dirt below.

"Prince Daemon, I believe that young Albaz has been trounced enough," called out Rhaenys. Daemon raised his head briefly but did not meet her gaze. "Maybe so, cousin. But I confess I am somewhat disappointed, especially after all those rumors floating about. The offspring of a dragon and a maiden?" he scoffed. "Please. More likely he's a dragonseed, sired by one of my noble ancestors and some whore. No wonder he lost; blood always tells."

A few stray laughs came from some of the men and Corlys barely stopped himself from marching over and throttling his goodson. He knew full well what Albaz could do; either he overheard it from all the servants or Laena had told him explicitly, not to mention his visit to the guests' chambers. Why was he deliberately provoking him!? Did he not have any sense of self-restraint!?

Then Daemon lowered the blade to the boy's bare chest and placed Dark Sister's tip right on his skin. "Is your skin as hard as a dragon's? Why don't we find -"

"Stamató!"

A youthful female voice cut the tension and everyone turned once more to the stairway where none other than Lady Ecclesia stood, her face twisted in anger. She tromped down the steps in the same dress she wore for their supper, with a near-frantic Laena calling for her in Volantene. The guards moved to intercept her, but Corlys swiftly stepped forward and motioned them off. Baela and Rhaena, who had been entranced by the fight, looked at Ecclesia with growing excitement. Rhaenys sharply looked at him but he said nothing, watching as Ecclesia walked right up to Daemon and stared at him, her round blue eyes narrowed.

"Ah, Lady Ecclesia. I see you've been watching our spar. The boy is good, but he has much to learn before facing me properly." Ecclesia kept staring at him silently. The tension had returned full force into the air but was now laced with bafflement. Corlys even caught a whisper of 'Lannister' amidst the crowd. The girl then raised her arm and thumped it against her chest.

"Σου αρέσει να τσακώνεσαι τόσο πολύ; τότε μάλωσέ με!"

…

Corlys felt his heart grow still. His Volantene may not be perfect, but he gleaned enough from that. Had she just…?

Daemon blinked. "I'm afraid I have not caught up with my Volantene, my lady. Laena, if you would be so kind?"

His daughter gulped and took a step forward, her hands firmly to her sides. "She said…if you love fighting so much, then she will be your next opponent."

The maidens and ladies gasped as the utterly scandalous words reached their ears. The men and squires settled for looking utterly confounded.

Daemon froze, seemingly registering the question in his mind, before throwing his back and laughing. "My lady, I understand that your man has been defeated, but surely he does not need a woman to defend his honor!" He then stepped back and raised Dark Sister again. "But I find myself intrigued, so I will humor you. I promise that it will be quick. You may pick up his sword if that is what you wish."

Ecclesia did none of that. Instead, she raised her fingers to her lips and blew out a piercing whistle. Everyone paused at the action and Daemon raised an eyebrow. "What was that meant to do?"

The answer came in the form of a loud rumbling from the top of the stairway the young woman had descended from. Then, in a streak of roaring fire, her giant dragon-skull hammer flew from behind the stairway wall and straight in her direction. The noblemen began to scurry back, but Ecclesia raised her arm and grabbed the hammer with one hand, halting its flight and not moving a hair from her spot.

Silence had fallen once more upon the yard as everyone stared at the utter monstrosity of a weapon held by the delicate-looking girl's arm. Even Daemon looked shocked, his eyes widening to almost comical degrees. He opens his mouth, but words elude him and he's left gaping.

This has gone long enough, Corlys thought. He stepped past his guards and switched to Volantene. "Lady Ecclesia, perhaps we should calm down and -"

It was over in a second. One moment Daemon stood, still grasping his sword. The next he was sent flying toward the yard before skidding on the ground and sending dirt flying all around him. His path continued until his head was barely away from the weapon rack on the yard's far side.

Corlys rapidly switched his stare between the two. Ecclesia stood there, the hammer swung in an arc, while Daemon lay on his back, a groan escaping his lips. Some part of him refused to believe it. But then he remembered how she held her weapon when they encountered each other in Valyria.

He had been too focused on the boy.

Ecclesia bent down and pulled Albaz up, whispering to him as she did so and brushing the dirt off his coat. A quiet conversation passed between them before she turned to look at him. He blinked before straightening himself and giving a minute bow.

"Would you like to return to your rooms, my guests?" he asked in Volantene. Not just for clarity, he didn't wish for the gathered to hear his words. "I believe you have suffered enough troubles for today. I will come by tomorrow to explain this."

The girl slowly nodded and pulled Albaz by the arm away from them and up the stairs. Laena trailed them and she turned to him in a silent plea. He quickly acquiesced with a nod and she followed them, two guards trailing behind her. The moment they left everyone's line of vision though, the men descended on him like wolves.

"Lord Corlys, what is the meaning of this!?" asked Ser Crakehall. "You did not tell us you had a sorcerer in your midst!"

"So the whispers were true," said Jonos Mallister, his hand rubbing his chin. "What have you brought from Essos, my Lord? Does the king know about this?"

"I was unaware you made deals with Volantis, Lord Corlys" spoke a merchant, glancing up where the two disappeared. "Should my ship be concerned about Driftmark's dealings with the slaver cities?"

"Silence!"

The crowd quieted at Corlys's roar. The Sea Snake may have aged and settled, but he was still the man who voyaged seven times through the Jade Sea and past Valyria. He had faced down worse than petty men like these, and he would not be cowed in his own keep.

"What you saw was the future of the Crown and House Velaryon. I rescued them from the edges of the Smoking Sea and they have been living as my guests since. Their past and their…gifts…are their own to tell. But know that any attempt to harm them will be considered an attempt on my House and my kin. I will be holding court on the morrow so you may ask me any questions you have then. For now, I bid thee good night, my lords and ladies."

He quickly headed back to the castle, his guards and granddaughters trailing behind him while his wife hurried to his side. No words passed between them, but they understood what had happened. Deals would be made, favors called and given, the whole of Driftmark would be abuzz, and soon most of Westeros would know what had taken place. Not exactly as planned, but close enough.

They had opened the wildfire jar, the only thing left was to see what burned.

Ta-da! The first real fight in this fic, and Daemon gets thrashed by a hammer! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, a huge shout-out to Rus of r/TheCitadel for helping me with this!

Also, I am looking for a beta for this fic, preferably one who knows a good deal of ASOIAF lore, both books and TV. DM me if you can!

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