The Princess and the Queen 27: Daemon II
If Daemon had a choice, which he didn't, he would do it all differently. Firstly, Baelon would not be allowed to attend.
If Baelon had a choice, he would not attend.
Daemon chuckled for a moment at the irony of it all and watched as Baelon spun a wooden sword in his hands, before poking Viserys with it. The thirteen-year-old seemed more occupied with playing japes than actually concentrating, which infuriated Daemon more than anything.
Dragons are no laughing matter, and this one finds it uninteresting and unserious.
"Sword down, Baelon," snapped Daemon. "And keep focused."
"Yes, Prince Daemon," he grumbled, chucking it a few yards away whilst Daemon rolled his eyes.
It was the same damned routine every session. Baelon would act up, refuse to concentrate, and treat it as some kind of mummer's farce. He would only listen when Daemon told him to listen, and then he would shrivel up into a ball and silently obey. But even then, it usually didn't last long. Daemon wagered that the japes would start again before the session was over, and Daemon would be ever closer to feeding the spoiled prince to Caraxes.
If I were allowed to do that, I probably would.
Daemon smirked to himself at the thought of it. No, it was too soon to even think of such things. It would cost Daemon and Rhaenyra the backing of the Lannisters and the Westerlands. And besides, Rhaenyra would not be so keen on the idea, which was an understatement.
Rhaenyra is the main reason the boy is coddled so much and not properly disciplined.
It was almost as bad as the indulgence Viserys gave to Rhaenyra. It was a small wonder Baelon was so lazy and gluttonous. She even forbade the usage of a whipping boy, and Daemon's pleas to her were met with deaf ears. It was the one thing that she would not shift her opinion on.
She comes crawling back to me like a wounded pup, yet she puts that whelp above me… and probably even our children.
For the past few years now, Rhaenyra always bowed to the whims of the damned thirteen-year-old rather than listen to Daemon's suggestions. What had changed? Not long ago, she was malleable, and whilst she would at times take Baelon's side, she would take Daemon's just as many. The change infuriated Daemon, but what power did he have to change it? Every plea, every argument, everything seemed to strengthen her resolve.
And the ship has long sailed for Baelon to be moulded into a puppet - I see the rueful looks the boy gives me.
Mayhaps that was a fault on Daemon's part for treating him too coldly back when he married Rhaenyra. But since then, Baelon's dislike of him only increased with each passing day, along with his tardiness and lack of respect.
If only Baelon was Rhaenyra's secondborn and Joffrey was the firstborn…
Then, Baelon's dislike would mean nothing. He wouldn't be a threat. Once the Velaryons and Hightowers were dealt with, Baelon could just scurry back to the rock in the west and drink himself to an early grave under the skirts of Tyland Lannister and Johanna Westerling. The Lannisters would yap and whine, but Daemon would get what he wanted.
Viserys and Visenya would then be married in the traditional Targaryen fashion without sullying their line with Andal and First Man blood. They would act as heirs to the heir of Rhaenyra. And if Joffrey could not be dealt with, he could be made into the man Daemon wanted him to be.
Daemon had some begrudging respect for Joffrey compared to his older brother. The nine-year-old was courteous, martially inclined, and always eager to learn and serve. He had the passion for leading and commanding without any of the haughtiness of Otto Hightower, the lust for power of Corlys Velaryon, or the endless ambition of Tyland Lannister.
And if Rhaenyra's ascension could be secured before the need for war, mayhaps Joffrey would not even have a dragon bonded to him.
Daemon was no fool; Joffrey needed to claim a dragon to bolster their faction and would do so within the coming years. No matter how unlucky the boy was with his eggs, his mother was still a Targaryen, with the blood of the dragon coursing through his veins. But in the unlikelihood that he never would, he would be even less of a threat than he already is.
He is no threat as he is. The boy is the Lord of Casterly Rock and not in line for the Iron Throne either way. It is Baelon I must focus on.
Back on the Dragonmont, they all stood at the base of the great volcano on a grass clearing. Daemon faced the children, flanked by two dragonkeepers and Lorent Marbrand of the Kingsguard. The children had their backs to the edge, where there was a long drop below to the stone castle. The wind gently hit Daemon's black and red robes, making them flutter back and forth whilst the air smelt of ash and seawater.
On the volcano behind Daemon, steps were carved into the rocky edge, going up and down, with large holes that went into the Dragonmont, which led to the cavernous abodes of the various dragons. They looked so tiny from afar but were truly massive, large enough for two Balerions to fly through.
Coming out of the nearest hole was one of the dragonkeepers in his Valyrian robes decorated with burn marks, tears, and bits of black, red, and brown blood. He looked at the edge before shouting a command into the cave in High Valyrian. Carefully, he descended the steps while another dragonkeeper exited the cave.
The next one had a bucket in hand, throwing chunks of meat on the ground behind him. Following him came Arrax. The grey dragon was still smaller than a pony, with its pink spikes and claws reflecting off the morning sun. He let out a small roar before directing a small blast of dragonfire at the chunk of meat ahead of him. Grey, pink, and light blue enveloped the chunk, and Arrax took the charred meat and swallowed it whole.
After the dragon came two more dragonkeepers, looking even more nervous than the previous two. They had long, blunted spears in their arms, gently prodding Arrax down the steps, directing him to the grassy clearing.
"At attention, Viserys," Daemon whispered as his son stepped ahead of his siblings. "And the rest of you, watch quietly," warned Daemon, directing the last word, especially at Baelon.
Viserys stepped forwards, and when Arrax arrived at the clearing, the dragon's attention was no longer on the chunks of meat but now on his rider. Arrax grunted a few times before raising his neck and baring his teeth, which looked a bit like a smile.
"Dohaeragon nyke, Arrax. Dohaeragon," Viserys calmly said to his dragon, not letting his voice crack.
Serve me, Arrax. Serve.
The dragon obeyed its rider's commands and remained sat, waiting for another instruction. Viserys turned to Daemon slowly, a tentative smile on his face.
"Sȳz," replied Daemon, nodding slightly, which made the eight-year-old beam.
Good.
Then, the dragonkeeper barked a phrase in High Valyrian, and Viserys responded for the dragon to stand, which he did. Viserys then commanded the dragon to walk towards him, then to halt, and then to sit again.
Various commands were uttered a few more times until the dragonkeepers were pleased with the session. One of the keepers rubbed Viserys' shoulders and whispered compliments in High Valyrian, which made the boy even more amazed. The sessions were nothing new, and Viserys had likely done the same routine half a hundred times by now since Arrax was but a hatchling no larger than a fist. Still, Viserys was just as proud as he was the first time he made Arrax serve him.
His siblings were just as proud of him. Visenya clapped and beamed at her twin brother whilst Joffrey smiled at him, though Daemon noted something else in the smile. Was it envy or just wishing he could be in Viserys' position? Regardless, he was proud of his little brother. Baelon, meanwhile, gave a half-hearted smile and exaggerated a yawn, so Daemon darted a stern look at him. The thirteen-year-old just shrugged as he flicked his golden hair back, mischief in his green eyes.
Spoiled cunt.
Two of the dragonkeepers whispered something to each other before one of them walked over to Daemon. This one was a woman, shaved bald just like the others, with scars and burns on her tanned skin. She reeked of mud and flesh and blood, and put her mouth to Daemon's ear, whispering in High Valyrian, before pulling back and looking at him inquisitively.
Daemon put his hands on his hips and looked over at Viserys, who was stroking the neck of Arrax. The dragon blinked a few times and let smoke out of its nostrils in return. Daemon then looked back at the dragonkeeper and nodded to him. The keeper then turned and nodded at the other keeper, before all the others began shouting orders at each other.
"Come, Viserys, back here," said Daemon, and his son obeyed, stroking Arrax's grey scales one more time. When Viserys was back with all of them, Daemon crouched on the ground, feeling the long grass tickling his knees. "We are going to something new, today, lad," Daemon whispered, a sly grin on his pale face.
"What is it, Father?" Viserys asked, his purple eyes glowing.
"You are going to feed Arrax… and you are going to give the command," replied Daemon.
"Very well," he nodded, trying his best to contain his joy, and failing. "I will be able to."
Viserys turned to his siblings. Visenya looked even happier, whilst Joffrey was also giddy with delight. Baelon raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly, before blowing a raspberry.
"You may be familiar with the command, but Viserys and Visenya are not," said Daemon. "Let them have their moment."
"I didn't-" protested Baelon, before looking over at his siblings and sighing. "Very well. I am proud of you, Viserys, brother… you will do it!" he said encouragingly, rubbing Viserys' short silver-gold hair.
For now, Daemon had forbidden Viserys and Visenya from commanding their dragons to breathe fire. It had to wait until they were older and more experienced. Viserys had the dragon for longer and was bonded with Arrax as a hatchling, so Daemon felt the time was now right. Both he and Visenya may have given the command once in secrecy, but Daemon was as firm as he could be with allowing them access to the dragons and doing anything reckless.
On the other hand, Baelon had probably given Sunfyre the command more times than he could remember, back in King's Landing, and here now. That was because Rhaenyra was lax with the boy, indulging him in his pleasures and treating dragons like they were a joke.
And yet all the keepers agree their bond is stronger than anyone!
It perplexed Daemon, but mayhaps allowing Baelon to play with fire was not the worst idea. His recklessness and negligence were bound to harm him someday, and maybe then Rhaenyra would be convinced that her eldest son was not worthy of rule. That, or he would cease to be an issue.
"Ah, it's here!" said Baelon, pointing to the dragonkeepers heading down the mountain, dragging a sheep along with them, ropes tied around the animal.
"Now, command Arrax to serve and sit. He shall obey, but if you do not command, his natural instincts shall take over," Daemon said to Viserys, beckoning him forward.
"Dohaeragon, Arrax," Viserys said, his voice slightly shakier.
Serve, Arrax.
The dragon turned its head away from the sheep coming down the hill and stared at his rider, awaiting further instructions from Viserys.
"Umbagon dēmāt," he said, breathing deeply.
Remain sat.
Arrax obeyed, and continued to, whilst Viserys continued to deliver his commands clearly and firmly, until the dragonkeepers brought the sheep some yards away from the mouth of Arrax.
The sheep smelt the stench of dragon and began to bleat. The keepers gripped tightly on the ropes, holding the sheep in place, despite its panic. Visenya clenched her fists, whilst Joffrey moved his hands to his mouth. Baelon whispered something vulgar, whilst Viserys continued to stare at Arrax, telling the dragon to serve. Daemon remained unflinching. Nothing bad would happen.
"Once let go, give command quick," another keeper said to Viserys, holding him by the shoulder. Viserys nodded firmly and kept his eyes focused on the dragon and the sheep.
The two keepers let go of the sheep and ran away from where Arrax's dragonfire would harm them. The sheep began crying more, looking the dragon in the eye. It didn't run away; it just stood there, frozen and screaming.
"Now," calmly whispered Daemon, and Viserys said the word.
"Dracarys," he said, and grey, blue, and pink came out of the dragon's mouth and towards the sheep. Within moments, the sheep was aflame, bleating louder for a moment before it went silent.
It was over within moments. The flames were gone, just like the sheep. All that was left was a black carcass. Arrax leapt over to the charred sheep and tore at it, from the black bones to the burnt meat. Chunks flew up into the air, and Arrax caught it with his mouth, chewing and swallowing it within seconds. Half a minute later, all that was left were just some black bones on the charred ground. Arrax belched, let out a tiny blast of grey fire, and growled happily, signalling he was satisfied with his sheep.
Only then did everyone exhale. Visenya cheered and whooped, Joffrey ran up to Viserys, and Baelon slowly clapped.
"I did it!" exclaimed Viserys. "I did it! Arrax breathed fire! Did you see?" he laughed, tugging at Daemon's hand.
"Yes," replied Daemon as his other siblings engulfed him in a hug. "I very much saw."
"Oh, it is truly a satisfying feeling, is it not, little brother?" laughed Baelon, ruffling Viserys' hair.
It would be satisfying if I gave such a command to Caraxes whilst you were staring down his throat.
After that, the dragon lessons concluded, and Viserys gave the command for Arrax to fly off. So off the little grey dragon went, roaring as he did, circling the sky twice and into his lair in the mountain.
"Father, next week, can it be my turn to give Silverwing a sheep? Or can it be a goat? Because she's bigger! Or an elephant? From your Tyroshi friends across the sea?" Visenya eagerly asked, looking up at Daemon.
"Very well, my girl," smiled Daemon, kissing her forehead. "Next week."
"Also, Father…" said Viserys, crossing his hands. "Can we go on dragon rides with Baelon and Visenya? Me and Joff? Since I fed Arrax a sheep today."
"Yes, can we, Father? Please?" Visenya added.
"You can," said Daemon. "But as before, remember what I told you. Viserys, Visenya?" he asked, his tone shifting to stern.
"We understand, Prince Daemon," Joffrey dutifully replied, bowing his head.
"No… why don't we do it the other way, today!" suggested Visenya. "If you allow us, Father. Joff can ride on Silverwing with me, and Viserys can go with Baelon."
Not this again…
"It's-" began Joffrey before being interrupted by Viserys.
"Yes, we could do that!" he exclaimed. "Because I always go on Silverwing and Joff always goes on Sunfyre… it is nice, but what if we did it the other way this time! It would be fun, truly!"
"It would be nice, but your father said that we cannot…" sighed Joffrey. "It is no difference, truly. Dragons are dragons!"
"Yes," Daemon curtly replied. "Going on… dragon rides are a luxury, not a necessity."
"Just one time, Father, please," Visenya said, almost begging.
"I… your mother and I set you rules all those moons ago. You are to follow the rules, or you are to not go riding on your dragons."
"But Mother said that she does not mind this…" pleaded Viserys, slight tears welling in the boy's eyes. "Just once, Father, please."
"Why do you mind this? It is no difference…" Visenya asked, almost angrily, putting her hands on her hips.
The reason was not fully clear even to Daemon. At first, it was that he could not trust his children to be left with Baelon. The lad was careless, and only the gods knew what dangers could befall Viserys and Visenya. But since then, the dragonkeepers said that Baelon's connection with his dragon was stronger than Valyrian Steel, so that excuse was gone. Rhaenyra disapproved of Daemon's reasons but had not yet formally gone against it.
"It's very well," Joffrey sighed, putting an arm on each of them. "Prince Daemon forbade us, so we must obey him."
Meanwhile, Baelon just stood there, almost watching from afar. His hands were at his side, his fists were clenched, and his breaths were heavy.
"No, it is not!" protested Visenya, tears also in her eyes. "What is wrong with allowing Joff to fly with me and Viserys with Baelon? It's not fair!"
"Truly, Visenya… it is no issue…" Joffrey said calmly, trying to reassure his half-siblings. "Mayhaps another day… or when we are older… we should listen to your father."
"No," whispered Baelon, his whispers barely masked by the wind.
No?
They all turned to face him, silently. His fists were clenched, but his face was as still as stone, his skin pale and eyes green with anger.
"No?" asked Visenya through tears. "What does-"
"We should be allowed to," Baelon said, his eyes not moving away from Daemon.
"It doesn't matter, Baelon… we said…" Joffrey nervously said, looking back and forth between the two.
"Why not?" Baelon asked dismissively. This was new. Daemon was almost impressed. "You are not our mother."
Since when did you stop being such a craven?
Daemon just smirked and sauntered over to the boy. He was almost as tall as Daemon but still had to look up to face him. His bottom lip was quivering, and his brows were pointed.
"You have nerve, lad; I'll give you that," chuckled Daemon, rubbing Baelon's golden curls. "But your mother also agrees with me," he said coldly. "And you are to listen to me," whispered Daemon, only just loud enough that the other children could hear.
"Mother does not," Baelon shrugged, stepping back, flicking Daemon's hand away from his head.
Petulant brat.
"And what gave you that impression, boy?" sniggered Daemon.
"I… I know," he replied, his voice beginning to slightly tremble. "It is no secret…" Baelon gulped. "You are the one who overruled it. But Mother is Grandfather's heir, not you. Her wishes should come first," he said, his voice becoming clearer. "Why should we listen to you? I should be able to take Viserys and Visenya on Sunfyre as much as I can, without you stopping me."
It is almost amusing, to see him fight back. The poor boy is only just managing to hold back tears.
"I will be Mother's heir…" Baelon continued, trying his best to keep his voice firm whilst his siblings looked on in horror. "We shall, and you shan't object, Come, Joff, Viserys, Visenya, let us go," he said, beckoning them to him.
Joffrey nervously shuffled over, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground below. Viserys stayed still whilst Visenya looked back and forth between Baelon and Daemon, unsure of what to do.
"Very well, boy," sighed Daemon, shaking his head in disapproval. "If you so wish to disregard my instruction, so be it. But dragon lessons shall be over for all of you, and going on rides too."
"Y-you can't do that!" splattered Baelon. "Mother will not have it; I will not."
"Baelon…" Viserys whispered, slowly looking at him. "I don't think it's worth it."
"It's just a threat!" Baelon spat. "Your father can't do anything about it. I am of higher standing and he knows it! And he can't order me around. You are not my father!" said Baelon, tears running down his rosy cheeks whilst he jabbed a pale finger at Daemon. "You just married Mother because she is the heir to the throne! She doesn't need you! I don't need you! Nobody needs you! She could have - should have married anyone else!"
"It doesn't matter, Baelon," Joffrey whimpered, slightly tugging at Baelon's hand.
When Baelon realised what he had uttered, he slowly looked at Viserys and Visenya. His breaths were heavy, and his eyes were still filled with emerald fury.
"I take that is all?" asked Daemon, smirking. "Then we return to the castle," Daemon said, taking the hands of his two children and leading them away.
"You can come with me on Sunfyre, then, Joff, if you wish," Baelon said, wiping his nose.
"On the morrow," the nine-year-old frowned, giving Baelon a small embrace before following Daemon and the rest away from the clearing and down the Dragonmont, leaving Baelon standing there alone, the wind blowing at his golden hair.
The first half of the descent was made in silence until Daemon broke it, by addressing Visenya.
"Tomorrow's dragon lesson is cancelled," Daemon said, feigning sadness. "You can have your chance to feed a sheep to Silverwing some other day, mayhaps in the coming weeks."
"What?" she gasped.
"That is unfair," replied Baelon, who had caught up with them. "Prince Daemon… it was my… outburst. I should be punished, not her."
Daemon stopped to face Baelon, and the rest of the group did too.
"Aye, it was the fault of you. But are you not half-siblings? Did your mother not stress the importance of a united family to you?" Daemon asked, glaring at Baelon.
Baelon returned the glare and looked as if he was to retort with more harsh words, but somehow managed to hold his tongue.
"Aye… yes, we are," he sighed. "But she sh-"
"Then you know why you should set a good example to your half-siblings, then?" asked Daemon, tilting his head.
"Very well," grumbled Baelon.
That is what I thought.
Baelon then went to hug Viserys and Visenya, and whisper something in their ear. They accepted the embrace and nodded. After that, Baelon gave a sad smile and patted their heads before setting off down the Dragonmont. Joffrey followed, but Daemon kept Viserys and Visenya behind.
He sighed and crouched, to bring himself face-to-face with the two children. He put a hand on either of their shoulders and looked at their small, sad faces.
"I am sorry about that ordeal," frowned Daemon.
Let them think even I was unaware of the foul words of their half-brother.
Neither child replied and tried their best to avoid eye contact with Daemon. He then sighed again, moving both of their faces gently to face him, and used each hand to stroke their silver-gold hair.
"What is the issue?" he asked.
"Why did Baelon say those… things… about you?" Visenya softly asked. "Is… was it… does he not…"
"Does he dislike me?" Daemon said, finishing her sentence.
"That," she whispered.
"I do not know, in truth," replied Daemon. "I try to be a father to him, to discipline him, to train him, but as you saw, he does not appreciate any of it."
"Maybe… he dislikes you… because… because… you never let us ride Sunfyre…" Viserys said, just loud enough to hear.
"What was that?" Daemon asked in surprise, turning to face him.
"That's why he is angry at you," he said louder before turning away, storming off to head down the Dragonmont.
Hells.
Daemon was so stunned by his son's reaction. Taking Baelon's side in all of this? Even after the vitriol the boy spewed. It was unbelievable. But mayhaps not too shocking. Viserys was a weak boy, bookish and not an enjoyer of the training yard, and of course, easily swayed.
"What of you, daughter?" Daemon asked, moving his hand down her pale face. "Do you think the same as your brother?"
"He… he is undisciplined… but… but…" she spluttered, her face a mix of sadness and anger. "He is still my brother."
She then turned and headed to the stone steps to descend, too. Once Daemon was left alone in the clearing, he had to contain himself from letting out a loud groan.
My own children took the side of Baelon over me.
He then stood up before descending down the Dragonmont. Baelon led the way, with Joffrey trailing behind him, accompanied by Ser Lorent and some other guards. Viserys was after, as well as more guards, and then Visenya. Nobody spoke, separated by a few yards and an uncomfortable silence.
By the time they reached the base of the Dragonmont, Baelon and Joffrey had disappeared into the castle proper. The former likely to the wine cellars and the latter to angrily train in the yard, where he usually went whenever he was distressed.
As they were headed to the castle, a serving boy sprinted up to Daemon and stated that he was wanted at the docks.
After silently cursing, Daemon approached his children once again before they parted ways.
"What is it, Father?" Visenya asked quietly.
"I know it may have been unpleasant for you both today," he gently said, holding both of them. "But on the morrow, do you wish to fly on Caraxes with me?"
"That… would be nice," Viserys slowly replied.
"It would be," agreed Visenya. "I would wish to do so, too."
"Very well," smirked Daemon. "But this shall be a secret. Tell nobody, understand? Not Mother, not your half-brothers, nobody."
"Not even-" Viserys began before Daemon pinched his lip and winked.
"Our little secret," he chuckled, and they eagerly nodded in response. "Good," Daemon smiled before giving them a small embrace. The servant slowly walked forwards as if to tap Daemon on the shoulder, which he noticed. "Aye, Seven Hells, I am coming," snapped Daemon, setting the children off to return to the castle.
Damned impatient Essosi.
The docks were on the other side of the island, after the main castle. It was next to the ever-growing fishing village, which had recently developed into a town, and would likely grow even more.
Lots of boats were docked at the harbour, from small fishing vessels to giant trading cogs, and it seemed like there were more and more boats each day. It had been like that for the past year, with trade increasing and increasing every turn of the moon.
Daemon passed by the little stalls, selling fresh lobster, crab, and eel, as well as humble tables of local fruits. There was an old, blind man who claimed to know the future and a half-naked woman offering her services to passing seamen.
Eventually, after buying a skin of Lyseni from one newer shack, Daemon arrived at where he was being summoned - the shipyards.
This was the most important part of it all. The increased revenue from the passing trade was valuable, but this is where all of Daemon's focus was on.
It was an ordinary shipyard, just like any other in Westeros, but it hadn't existed ten years ago, or even five. Now, the shipyard of Dragonstone was utilised by people from all across the continent. It was still nowhere near as extensive as the shipyards on Hull, but it still was significant.
The majority of construction present in the yard were ships built for the purpose of war. Ironwood and pine from the North were being shaped into carracks, war galleys, and longships, to add to the new but rapidly growing Dragonstone fleet.
Northern wood, Westerlander gold, and Tyroshi builders.
It was mildly amusing but also encouraging. The nigh-unlimited coffers of Casterly Rock had financed the project, buying wood from the neutral Northerners whilst enlisting the aid of Tyroshi, Lyseni, and Myrish shipbuilders, who still had not forgotten their grudge with Corlys Velaryon. Some meetings between Tyland Lannister, Daemon, and envoys of the Triarchy later, and Dragonstone finally had a fleet.
"Ah, Prince Daemon, there you are!" a voice shouted from across the shipyard.
Swaggering over to Daemon was an extremely tall but stooped man. His hair was purple with streaks of bright orange, and his cloths were of even brighter shades. The scent of rose and lavender filled Daemon's nose as Racallio Ryndoon greeted him, his arms open.
"Was it truly important for me to come all the way to the yards for this?" Daemon grumbled. This stopped him from explaining today's incident to Rhaenyra, but he could not alienate his Essosi allies by declining their summons, which Daemon had already done twice this past week.
"It is always important!" the Tyroshi chuckled, slapping Daemon on the back. "It is regarding the show of strength you want to present during this so-called visit from our friends of Velaryon in the coming weeks," he said, his voice serious.
Ah, this matter.
The two times that Daemon had spurned meeting with Racallio was to discuss this very matter, and he had spurned him for no particular reason. At least this time, it was a relatively pressing matter, rather than the flamboyant sellsail wanting to know the best brothel in the town.
Daemon's mind went back to those moons ago, when he had to adjourn an important meeting with Bartimos Celtigar because Racallio wanted an emergency audience with him. Following that, Daemon purposely put off any meeting with the man until the man turned up in the great hall, threatening to return to Tyrosh with all the ships.
After that, concessions were made to the Essosi shipbuilders. Instead of taverns and villas on the island, a good number of them were given esteemed quarters in the Dragonstone castle. Before, such honour was reserved to only Racallio, even though the man preferred to sleep on his ship or at a brothel in the arms of some poxy whore.
He has the choice to be within arm's reach, yet doesn't, and then complains that I am never at hand to entertain his trivial concerns.
"Very well, but you could have come to the castle for this," said Daemon. Even if he had to bend over for the Triarchy, he still couldn't capitulate on everything. "What are you proposing?"
"I want even more of my men to be given rooms at Dragonstone," Racallio replied in his thick Tyroshi accent.
So he summoned me here for more demands then.
The man had insisted on speaking in the Common Tongue with Daemon, so he obliged, even if Daemon would have much preferred to converse in Valyrian.
Anything to satiate these damned Essosi.
"And not tents. We want good rooms," added Racallio.
"Have you forgotten that the retinue of my brother shall also be here, which means fewer rooms available?"
"Aye, but whatever rooms are left can be given to your most leal of allies," he smiled mockingly. "And I wish to be present when you dine with His Grace, as a guest of honour and friend of Dragonstone."
"Very well for the first," Daemon said, crossing his arms. "But the second demand is beyond absurd, with all due respect, Racallio. Lord Celtigar and Lord Marbrand never dine with us, and if I had a choice, neither would Lord Lannister when he comes to visit."
"I thought you wished to let the Velaryons know that you boasted strong ties with the Triarchy?" frowned the Tyroshi. "Having me rubbing shoulders with you at supper is the best way for that."
You are just an upjumped sellsail with ambitions too lofty.
If it were the Archon of Tyrosh himself, Daemon would very well consider it, and almost certainly accept it, but this was just Racallio testing the boundaries of his demands. Even Daemon knew that to have him dine with the King of Westeros would have been seen as an insult.
Everything we do would be seen as an insult by Queen Laena, however.
"There are other ways we can display our friendship," smiled Daemon, patting him on the shoulder. "Is that all, Racallio? The day is getting late, and I must return to the castle."
"You are an uptight man, Lord Fleabottom," Racallio grinned. "Ah, another matter! I wished to ask how you wanted your ships to be displayed when your dearest kin visit. I heard that you wanted them all stationed by the royal docking area, instead of remaining afloat by the coast on the shipyard?"
"Aye, that is what my plan is."
"It will look as if the castle is under siege," he laughed, raising his dyed eyebrows.
Is it a siege when you let the enemy in with open arms?
"Yes, and I want accelerated work on the building, for the coming weeks. We shall pay more, if you so wish," Daemon said. "I want the fleet to be as large as possible when Queen Laena arrives."
"That shall be arranged," winked Racallio. "Shall this come from the coffers of yourself, or will Lord Lannister have to fork out some more gold from his mountain?" he asked, laughing.
It's not like the Lannisters will notice the change in gold in their bottomless pit.
Daemon didn't dignify the jape with an answer, and instead just smirked at the man. However, Racallio was correct in that the financing of the fleet would only have been possible with Lannister gold, as well as Tyland Lannister's communications with the Triarchy. It indicated to Daemon how much leverage the Lannister man had over Dragonstone.
The man is our most powerful ally as of now. We cannot afford to lose him. The power of the Westerlands is the only counterbalance to the might of Driftmark and Oldtown.
It also was a stark reminder that as well as not upsetting the Essosi, he also had to thread a very thin line with House Lannister. Tyland Lannister was able, and competent, but also ambitious, so appeasing him was necessary at times without veering into capitulation.
He will aid Rhaenyra and me to reach the Iron Throne, but when the time does come to oppose Baelon, let us hope the man is no longer around. And if so, the lazy prince shall grow to be a pathetic kind, like a second Aenys.
"Do not answer me then, Prince Daemon, groaned Racallio, somewhat frowning, even if his tone was still jovial. "There was one final matter I must broach to you."
"Another matter?" Daemon sarcastically said, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes, another matter, and perhaps the most pressing of them all," he chuckled, rubbing his calloused hands together. "We have aided you in building such a splendid fleet here," he said, gesturing to the yard around him. "It would only be just if you were to aid us in another matter."
Daemon knew the answer before the man even said it.
"The Stepstones," said Daemon.
"You are a wise man, Prince Daemon!" he laughed. "Should we launch a campaign, spearheaded by myself, your aid in retaking them would be much appreciated, and remembered when we plant our flags on Bloodstone once again."
"We have thrown you more gold than you can imagine for you to build our ships, and you wish for even more so you can war over a bunch of rocks? That does sound like a fair trade, truly."
Not too long ago, I was fighting for some free companies for some uninhabited swathes of land in Essos myself.
"Think, Prince Daemon," he said, his demeanour serious and the smile gone from his face. "The Sea Snake has not left much of a defence on those islands, and it is ripe for the taking."
"And what would be in it for myself?"
"Ah, well, do I really need to tell you?" smiled Racallio. "Once we have complete control, we can arrange for benefits for you and your allies."
"No tariffs, you say? With it under the Iron Throne, we needn't pay any tariffs as is," scoffed Daemon.
"That could remain, but think on other benefits… the friendship of Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr, for one," smirked the pirate.
Daemon nodded and grinned, liking where this was going. Not only would it bring closer ties to the Triarchy, but it would also be a crushing blow to the prestige of the Velaryons to lose the islands.
"I shall think on this," nodded Daemon, before taking his leave to return to the castle.
"It does not need much to think about!" Racallio shouted as he staggered away back into the bustling shipyard.
It was enticing, and if the Triarchy had control of the Stepstones, bolstered by more Lannister gold and maybe even part of Dragonstone's fleet, it would completely block Redwyne and Hightower ships from accessing the Narrow Sea. The offer would need to be discussed with Rhaenyra, as well as other important figures like Tyland Lannister and Bartimos Celtigar, and of course, be negotiated thoroughly with the Essosi. Still, a large opening had just made itself available.
Daemon sauntered back to the castle, going over the possibilities of such an alliance, until he reached the grey shadow of the castle, and the reminder he would need to confront Rhaenyra about this afternoon's incident. The sun was getting low, and a harsh wind had picked up, so Daemon was relieved upon entering the mouth of the stone dragon and the warmth of the castle.
He found Rhaenyra where he expected, on the second-highest floor of the Sea Dragon Tower. She was lounging on a cushioned chair, sipping red wine from a glass wrought into a dragon, calmly watching the waves of the Gullet crash against the rocky cliffs of Dragonstone. Across the room was a small cot with little Aegon inside.
The babe was clad in light purple swaddling cloths that matched his eyes and wrapped in a cream blanket to shield him from the late afternoon breeze. Wispy strands of silvery gold hair fell down his pale face, covering his shut eyes.
"How is he?" asked Daemon, walking over to his youngest child.
"Well," smiled Rhaenyra. "Gerardys looked over him earlier. He is healthy and hale, and developing as he should."
"That is good to hear," nodded Daemon, running his fingers over the dragon resting by Aegon's head. The egg was a blue so dark it was almost black that shone violet in the light, with streaks of yellow running through it. It somewhat reminded Daemon of a stormy night. "And how have you been, dear wife?" he asked, hoping to be on the best possible terms for the forthcoming conversation.
"The same," she sighed. "More administration, and I lunched with Lord Lydden earlier. Not that there was anything of note. That man is terribly droll."
"I am lucky to not have the displeasure of experiencing that then."
"You very much do," Rhaenyra said, rolling her eyes. "Were you not with our Essosi friends before you came up here? What did the Purplebeard want?"
"Another update on the fleet, which is promising. I made them work twice as hard until your half-siblings come to visit, so even more shall be built by then," Daemon said, pouring himself the Arbor Red. Rhaenyra nodded at that, taking another sip of the wine. "That, and he supposedly has his eyes on the Stepstones."
"That is a development," she said, raising her eyebrows.
"Aye, and I would wager this comes from the Triarchy back in Essos, even if I get the impression he means to style himself as the King of the Narrow Sea," Daemon said. "And I would certainly not be opposed to aiding them in taking those rocks, even if it is to incur a hefty financial cost, knowing those Essosi and their demands."
"It is a sound idea, which would certainly project our force," Rhaenyra agreed.
"There is a but, isn't there?" Daemon chuckled.
"But we would need Ser Tyland's approval, with it being his gold."
"Of course," Daemon curtly said. She was not wrong, but it was still somewhat irritating that her mind went to that first.
They conversed for a while longer, about the impending visit from King's Landing, how the Cannibal was spotted again, and how two of the wetnurses now hated each other because one slept with the other's husband. Eventually, the uncomfortable subject was broached, and by then, the sky had gotten dark with rain clouds, and the air had become cold.
Rhaenyra summoned a servant to take Aegon and another to light the hearth in the chamber. Once it was lit, the room was filled with the crackling of the fire, jostling against the rain pattering against the castle's stone walls. The fire reflecting off her pale face made her seem half a ghost, but her features looked strikingly younger in the evening light.
"We have danced for too long around the subject," she chuckled, putting the empty wine glass on the stone table.
"Do you wish for me to tell you of what happened on the Dragonmont then," scoffed Daemon.
"I am fully aware of all that occurred," she simply said.
"What? You do not even wish to hear my account of it?" he asked, almost offended. "So you can compare what parts Baelon conveniently omitted?"
"I asked Viserys and Visenya, too, individually. It corroborates what Baelon told me. My son spoke the whole truth."
Of course they would defend him.
"It is no surprise," Daemon laughed. "They look up to him."
"He is their eldest brother, after all."
"I am well aware," he said bluntly. "Very well then," sighed Daemon. "If you are aware of what happened, what are you to do about it? Is he to suffer any consequences for what he said?"
I highly doubt it.
"I have arranged for that, already," said Rhaenyra. "Baelon has apologised to Viserys and Visenya, which they have accepted. He is also to kneel in the sept tomorrow morning, as well as attend an extra hour of lessons with Gerardys. I do think that is fair enough."
"That is all?"
"All? It is harsh enough that he knows to not say it again, and not cruel as to punish him for an outburst of emotion."
"For what was said…"
"I will not punish my son any further," affirmed Rhaenyra, sighing and slumping down in her seat. She turned to Daemon, looking at him with her purple eyes weary. "Was what he said true?"
"True?" scoffed Daemon. "You must be japing, truly."
"My mother once said that the harshest insults are those with flecks of truth within," sighed Rhaenyra. "Do you not…" she said before shaking her head in annoyance.
"That is a foolish notion, Rhaenyra. Please do not say you believe that."
"Why else would he have said that? He must have heard it somewhere…"
"Aye, likely from the Westerlanders and Riverlanders who love to gossip and chatter. Idle talk that washerwomen love to spread around," Daemon said, walking up to her slowly.
"If others…" Rhaenyra began until Daemon tenderly put a hand to her mouth. He ran his hand across her face, brushing her soft, Valyrian features, looking up and down her body.
"A lie. Spread from the Queen in King's Landing, or Otto Hightower, or the Clubfoot, or some other of our enemies that wishes to see us disunited. I would never, never, betray you, dear wife," Daemon whispered, putting both of his hands on her face, gripping it softly yet firmly. "Ever since you were younger, you are the one I have felt closest to. We were born separate, but destined to be intertwined. Your claim means nothing. I married you because you are you. I love you, Rhaenyra."
"I…" Rhaenyra replied, lost for words. A single tear ran down her cheek. She then grabbed Daemon's face and kissed him. It only lasted a second before Daemon pulled away. "I am sorry…" she whispered, her breaths heavy. "Why did I think such things?"
"We all make mistakes," Daemon said, running his fingers through her hair. "You believed the tales that have spread even to this island."
"Aye, calumnies with the intent of breaking our union," she said, her words filled with anger.
"That is why we must do something about those rumours," he replied, his voice still low.
"What do you propose?" her eyes wide, looking up at him.
"You ask Baelon where he heard these lies, and we can cut them before they can fully take root."
She paused for a moment, before looking away from Daemon and out of the window. Her breathing was still heavy, but the vulnerability of her eyes was gone. It was only anger. She poured herself another cup of wine, before finishing it in one gulp.
"Baelon," Rhaenyra laughed, slamming the empty cup back on the back. "That's all it was for you, wasn't it? My son. My eldest son. You so wish to see my boy punished. Why, Daemon? Why?"
"I never meant such-"
"You did," she angrily said. "You always have. Do not play the fool with me. You dislike him. You always have done. Please speak the truth to me, husband. I love you, and I know you love me. But please, be honest with me in this venture, as you normally do."
Daemon clenched his fist behind his back and gritted his teeth. It didn't work. She still took Baelon's side, even after all of this.
"I have told you, time and time again," Daemon coldly said. "He is undisciplined. Lazy. Mischievous. Unfit for rule. Rude. Need I list more?"
"If he is so undisciplined, discipline him then," she replied, standing up from her seat, her purple eyes staring at Daemon. "You are responsible for his dragon training. Do not give him inadequate lessons and complain he is unfit. Why else would he say such an insult towards you?"
"I thought we went through this, Rhaenyra. He only said-"
"Aye, but he would not have said any of this if he didn't have reason to dislike you. Even if false, he would need reason to say this," Rhaenyra said, her voice just below a shout, filled with anger and sadness. "He mislikes you because you give him cause to!"
Rhaenyra walked up to Daemon, looking directly into his eyes. They seemed cold, and almost emotionless. From this close, he could hear her breaths, and smell the lavender and citrus oils rubbed into her skin.
"This is what shall happen," she calmly said. "Viserys and Visenya are to be allowed to ride on Sunfyre as much as they please. You are to remain in charge of the children's dragon lessons, but you are to give all of my children your full attention. Any mistreatment of Baelon will be dealt with. Are we clear on this?"
"Very well," he smirked.
"I love you, Daemon, I truly do," sighed Rhaenyra. "There are not many things in this world I love more. But there are five, at least. My five children. I would choose my children over you, every time, and you would do well to remember this," she said coldly. It was new for her, but not entirely surprising. Yet the confirmation irked Daemon for reasons he could almost describe. He wanted to ask why but knew it was futile. And that was what made his blood boil. "And as Baelon said, I could have just married someone else. It is my claim to the throne, not yours."
Daemon simply nodded before turning and leaving the room. He had to hold his tongue some more, before saying or doing something he would regret and making everything even worse.
It is funny, in that me and Baelon are similar in that regard.
"Daemon," she softly called.
He whirled around to face her. She stood in the centre of the room, the pink and orange sky behind her, accompanied by the sound of rain banging against the wall and the hissing of the fire.
"Are we clear on all of that?" she asked.
"Aye," he simply replied, leaving the room.
Daemon now understood where he stood with all of it. Rhaenyra would no doubt choose her whelp over him, which she made abundantly clear. And he had no choice but to obey her like a sorry pup. Which is what he would do, at least until the time came and the opportunity arose. But that was still a long way away, and becoming less and less likely by the day.