The Tartered Dragon - Aegon, Son of Baelon

by mootjeman7

An man from our world is reborn in the world of ASOIAF and decides to make the best out of it through adventure yet it never is that easy, even for a third prince. OC-SI - Overlaps with HOTD.

45. Chapter 43

TSB2003 - The capital city is also called Elamaerys. At the moment, there is no distinguishment. That will probably change in time.

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Everyone Else, Thank you for your reviews and comments, I always read them even if I don't respond to them.

As always, please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think.

Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters after this chapter are available on P. .^T.^R.^E.^O.^N./ Boombox117

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Mid to Late 123 AC – Oldtown, The Hightower

Lord Hobert Hightower POV

"Come in." Hobert intoned, his eyes still on the parchment that went through the tithes that'd been collected at his easternmost lands.

"Brother." Otto greeted as he walked into his Hobert's solar and Hobert made a noise in the back of throat as he gestured towards the seat opposite him, his eyes still on the parchment.

Otto took his seat and he kept himself quiet as Hobert read apace, and only after he finally read through it all, a bout of irritation flowing through him at the lower than average collection, did he finally look up and meet his brother's gaze, who seemed to have been studying him.

"The tithes below average again?" His brother questioned and Hobert let a distasteful expression form on his face.

"Hmm. It seems I must summon them again." Hobert said with no small amount of aggrievement. The Knightly Houses were clearly not doing what they were meant to for the smallfolk to again collect far less than what was typical of those lands.

This was the second in the last four harvests.

"It may be prudent to make examples this time." His brother remarked and Hobert agreed with that assessment. A dispossession of lands from one of the Knightly Houses to frighten the rest would serve well.

Hobert's eyes refocused as they set on his brother. "Were your meetings fruitful?" He asked, getting straight to the point of why his brother had come to see him likely as soon as he'd returned.

"They were." Otto inclined his head, smiling, and Hobert let a light smile form.

"Oh?" Hobert made out as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes intense as he studied his brother.

"The Graftons, the Gulltown Arryns and the Carons are with us." His brother said plainly and Hobert could see the look of victory on his face.

It was good news. Very good news.

With the Graftons, who could, with delicate prompting and planning, raise a host that was second only to House Arryn. Whilst House Royce was the 'second' House of the Vale, House Grafton had a much larger pool of men to be raised.

With the Arryn's hold over the Vale at the weakest it has ever been thanks to Jeyne Arryn, who, despite having survived several attempts of being deposed, still had claimants that coveted her throne, such as the Gulltown Arryns. And with no issue coming from that accursed and sham of a marriage, it was all but looking certain that there was opportunity to rise for the Arryns of Gulltown.

If they played it well, they could instigate a civil war in the Vale at the right time, knocking the Vale out of the pool of men and Houses the usurpers could call upon.

"You promised the Valemen only what we discussed?" Hobert asked.

"No." his brother said before a faint smile formed. "They took less. Naturally, for the Arryns, the offer of the Crown's support of Isembard's claim to the Eyrie and the Vale, and for the Graftons, a relaxation of taxes on Gulltown for thirty years guaranteed and a seat on the Small Council within ten years of Aegon's ascent."

"Hmm. Lord Grafton accepted he won't get a seat on the Small Council?" Hobert questioned curiously. It was unlikely the old Lord would live that long.

"He understood when I made assertions that whilst I could not make a guarantee of a place on the Small Council, not when there were Lords of particular authority that could ask for such a price, but that at least House Grafton would have a prominent and influential place at court until the first opportunity to a seat opened." His brother said and Hobert's lip pulled up in a combined feeling of amusement and mild contempt.

"At least they would warrant a consideration." Hobert settled on. The Graftons were an acceptable House after all.

"Aye." His brother agreed.

"And the Carons? They accepted the Kings Guard offer?" Hobert questioned. They had less to offer the Carons but Otto knew how to speak to these Lords. Especially the Stormlanders.

"I broached the topic with them." Otto said before he sighed faintly. "Unfortunately, Lord Caron was insistent we support the Lords in the Dornish Marches 'once the Dornish curs rear their ugly heads'."

Hobert rolled his eyes. "Of course they are." Hobert gestured dismissively "We'll send one of your grandsons to warn off the Dornish should they raid." Hobert said before he continued. "Was what all?"

"No, I also had to offer a marriage to them." At this Hobert's expression grew cold and Otto knew better than not to continue. "Not Bethany, of course."

Hobert relaxed a little. Bethany was reserved for something far greater. Ideally House Lannister, once Lord Jason finally begot an heir.

"One of our cousins then." Hobert stated and Otto inclined his head. Hmm. Nightsong was suitable Keep for a cousin of theirs.

"Melora Hightower." Otto said. "She is a few years older than Lord Caron's grandson but it would bind the Carons closer to us when they marry in two or three years' time."

Hobert gestured, giving his assent to the idea, knowing that Otto would talk to their cousin about their daughter and her pending marriage.

"Whilst the marriage would bind us in blood, Lord Caron has warned that he would not be able to sway the other Lords of the Marches if, if, Lord Borros proclaims his support for Rhaenyra."

"Which is unlikely to happen, based on what we know of the man." Hobert said as he eyed his brother intently. Borros was unlikely to support a woman's claim to the throne based on his comments made to Unwin Peake at the Tourney of Storm's End.

Hobert set his eyes hard on Otto. "And even if he does waver, however unlikely that is to happen, a marriage with your second eldest grandson shall secure his support." The whole reason why they even went for the most prominent lord in the Dornish Marches had been because some fools there might cause to honour the pledges their fathers, or themselves, had made to honour Rhaenyra's claim to the Iron Throne.

Gaining the Caron's vehement support would significantly prevent that notion to prevail, lest they find battle with their own neighbours who more often than not have forged bonds through blood and war against the Dornish.

Otto remained silent for a moment before he answered.

"Any marriages we are to offer to the Baratheons can only happen once Viserys is dead. As much as Alicent has influence over her husband, not even she can convince him to make sure a betrothal, not when it would endanger Rhaenyra's position so overtly, which this would certainly be."

Hobert narrowed his head before rolled his hand across the arm of his chair. The same old point. As much as he hated to hear it again, he unfortunately knew that it was entirely possible that Viserys would be alarmed by the request.

With Otto's expulsion from Kings Landing, they had to be more…clandestine in drumming up support for the true heir. And Rhaenyra's actions, such as retreating to Dragonstone for large periods of time, indicated that she was highly watchful of their movements.

Otto's movements had thus been masked as missions of the Hightower, effectively having made him into an errand boy, giving enough opaqueness that one could deny what they were doing…even if Rhaenyra and her supporters had better sense.

But ultimately, it was the King's perception that mattered and as long as it could be explained away and thus deny any wrongdoing, which he would, and has, accepted, they could utilise Otto like this.

But his niece going to Viserys and requesting a betrothal with House Baratheon, a Lord Paramount, for a son who stood to inherit nothing…even a wilfully blind man like Viserys could be convinced that something was amiss.

"Very well." Hobert said finally, in a tone of voice that he was done with his brother, and he moved to pick up another parchment that was for attentions, only, he noticed his brother had not moved from his seat, causing Hobert to look at him.

"How was the meeting with the High Septon?" Otto asked and Hobert paused in his movement for a moment, before he sat back in his chair, an irritable sigh escaping his lips.

"Tiresome." Hobert said with a silent sneer on his face before he lost it. "As expected." Normally, dealing with the High Septons and the Most Devout was not a matter that caused many issues, and prior to recent years, he'd only met two High Septons thrice in his lifetime in his capacity as Lord of the Hightower.

This was his sixth meeting with this High Septon.

"But after some promises, he agrees to keep his – and the Most Devout – protestations' quiet." Hobert said with a pointed look and Otto's expression broke into something of a stressed look.

Otto sighs long-sufferingly before he spoke. "What was promised?"

"Only what should be done." Hobert said with some coldness in his voice though he shook it off before he spoke again. "It is bad enough the accursed Targaryens get away with their incestuousness through the foul Doctrine that has tied a noose around the neck of the Faith but to befoul the very Faith itself into a mockery of itself in service of themselves?" Hobert's voice rose slightly even while he kept his great indignation pressed down.

Hobert was not the most pious of Lords but it was insulting beyond the pale what that bastard Targaryen has done. To claim himself a prophet, to have Septons declare him a prophet, to make acceptance of magic in the faith itself when they'd hunted and destroyed all traces of it South of the Neck?

"Your grandson shall help rectify the matter." Hobert declared after he'd calmed down and Otto's expression turned guarded and Hobert narrowed his eyes at that.

"That may prove difficult." There was reluctance in his voice.

"I have full confidence in your abilities." Hobert said with no small amount of warning that he would not accept a concession on this. "Neither Viserys or your daughter are raising my grandnephew to be King and after we win him his throne, there should no resistance from him to do as we will." Hobert leaned forward and eyed Otto intently. "And we will it that we do not let this affront go."

Hobert leaned back in his chair. "Of course, there are be many ways we can act, beyond war, if that is what concerns you" Hobert knew that it was. For all that Otto was prepared for war for the Throne, he knew his younger brother loathed war.

Had he had his wishes, his grandnephew would have wed Rhaenyra and been done with it. Of course, now that they knew that Rhaenyra was not as easily controlled as they'd hoped, they would have just helped her along to die in the woman's bed.

In any case…

"But we may wish to at least entertain the zealousness of the High Septon" Hobert said before adding "given the truth of Elamaerys' fertility."

Otto looked at him sceptically and Hobert understood.

"The difficulties are immense." Hobert allowed.

Least of all, they needed to find it first. But once they'd stolen one of these compasses, and ideally a map, they would be able to do it.

He hoped, amongst everything else they'd learn from the Houses and their servants, they also learn how to obtain them.

"But this is an opportunity our House would do well not to let go."

House Hightower could be patient…just as they have always been whenever they had their sights on a goal. Their present success showed what that patience would let. Yes, they had to wait over half a century to gain their blood on the throne, but in the end…they'd succeeded and they were but a step away from controlling the Seven Kingdoms.

He could see it. House Hightower ruling indirectly over the Seven Kingdoms through the Targaryens, ruling directly over the Reach and Elamaerys.

Hobert was not concerned about the trickeries of magic.

Magic of such degree was long dead and no one, especially not the likes of the heretic, was able to accomplish what only Gods were capable of. The rumours were overstated, drastically.

And the wildfyre…well, none of that would matter when half a dozen of dragons fell upon those ships.

"Besides" Hobert continued. "Even if the line of the heretic has been disinherited, you know well that they prove themselves too far a great to ignore."

Letters have been exchanged two years ago between the King and the heretic that told them that Elamaerys recognised Rhaenyra as the King's appointed heir.

They'd find no ally in the heretics for the rightful ascension of his grandnephew.

And from the tightening of Otto's expression, he knew that his younger brother understood that as well.

"All the more reason we do not give them more cause to intervene." Otto said, and there was a firmness in his tone of voice.

Perhaps even a bit of fear.

He knew his brother worried that antagonism from them and the Faith would cause them to involve themselves in the war that is to come.

It was a valid concern.

"Which is why the Faith will not press on us until after we have won." Hobert said and there was finality in his tone of voice. Hobert would instruct his heir not to bend until the conditions were right but when they were right…

Otto, despite not being happy with his words, accepted it.

"For your ambitions to take root…matters will need to be ensured to have been turned into our favour." Otto said and Hobert knew what his brother was asking.

Hobert had a look of irritability.

"It would have been simpler had we a Maester we to send to Driftmark." Hobert said to his younger brother, and though he kept accusation from his voice, the words were pointed.

After the death of the maester of Driftmark nearly a decade ago, the Velaryons had elected not to request another maester and sent away all of the acolytes, something none of them had expected.

The death of the maester had not been problematic, but the acolytes…and with them choosing not to take on another maester, it had proven irritatingly difficult to place an agent in their household.

"Alicent has written she's tried again after letting enough time pass. She remains unable to convince Viserys to intervene in the matter." Otto said with similar irritation. "He deems it an internal matter of House Velaryon that he will not intercede on, no matter how much Alicent has explained about the negative effect it has on the credibility on the Citadel." Otto sighed sufferingly.

The topic of the maester was one she could easily broach privately to Viserys without falling to suspicion, given that the Citadel was a point of pride to all Hightowers.

"I've told her to not mention it again." Otto finished.

Hobert looked displeased at that but he couldn't blame his younger brother.

"At least the woman is of weak constitution." As expected from a woman born from a House of an incestuous background. Aenys was weak of body, as were several of Alyssanne's children, and so too was Jocelyn Baratheon.

The Gods smiled on them that Laena Velaryon has inherited the same weaknesses.

The birth of Jocelyn Velaryon had been reported as difficult on the woman and he expected this one to be no less, given that it had happened twice now.

"Perhaps the Gods will do us favour and the woman perishes on the woman's bed."

"I pray you are right." Otto said heavily. "We may have to take drastic actions however. Without Vhagar in our hands…"

Whomever had that monstrous beast had an incalculable advantage.

Whilst Dreamfyre, and hopefully Caraxes, were great beasts to hold, Vermithor alone may well be capable striking down their dragons.

And with Silverwing, which was a comparable size to Dreamfyre…

"If we must." Hobert said finally and Otto stood up, and, after a tight nod, he departed, leaving Hobert alone in his Solar.

-Break-

Mid to Late 123 AC

Wallace Gīaglazyr (maker of clear glass) POV

Wallace rolled the ends of the blower in his hands as he sought to heat the large gather of glass evenly in the sweltering furnace, the whooshing sounds of the stoker at the back combatting with the sounds of the harsh fires of the furnace.

He paused in his rolling and he wetted the blower with splashes of water to combat the rising heat of the blower.

"Father, the next pot has been prepared." He heard his eldest son say.

A pot made of sand taken from the southwestern coasts, fine powdered quartz from the river upstream, ashes from a thistly saltwort plant taken from the northwestern marshes and ground pieces of waste glass.

Hmm. Wallace glanced at the light peering through the window even as his hands continued to roll the blower. There probably wasn't enough time in the day to melt and skim the glass whilst also finishing up with the work they'd already done.

Not if he still wanted to let his boy go.

"You checked the Kallos?" Wallace asked about the third and largest furnace they had in his workshop. It ran a lower temperature than the melting furnace and the working furnace but no less needed careful watching to make sure it wouldn't make the glass weak.

"Checked both. Aye, still running hot. Added few more alder logs to the fire."

"Fine. Go and help Belo 'round the back." Wallace ordered before he pulled out the large gather of glass and walked towards the marver.

He placed the large gather on the marver and began to roll the glass back and forth to get a better initial cylindrical shape before he halted and returned to the furnace.

He again placed the gather of glass into the furnace though it remained there not but for a short time before he walked over to the shaper, a square bowl that had been beaten and shaped to have its insides form a half-ball, and he rolled the hot glass into it, the ball slowly taking the shape of a ball and then, Wallace began to blow, and he saw the glass grow in size.

"Stoke up the fire, boys!" Wallace ordered in the bare moment he stopped blowing and he could hear the whooshing grow louder.

Wallace then returned back to the furnace, and with a kick of the foot, he brought near the stool which had a support brace at the top of it at the end of a thin and long pipe, and he rested the blower on it before he put the enlargened gather into the furnace, turning it all the while he was blowing his breath down the blower.

The gather grew larger and larger, and when he was nearly satisfied with the size, did he speak up. "Lucas. Belo." Wallace only said and he heard the boy's steps as he made his way towards the second shaper mould.

He first blew more breath into the large gather of glass before he swung the gather around, elongating it, and he did so a few times before he rolled the gather in the mould, shaping it more so until he was satisfied.

He then brought it up against the small and thin table meant to angle the blower and his son timely came forth with another blower with a small gather at the ends of it. As Wallace rolled the glass, his son made to stick the small gather at the crest of the larger gather.

Then, his son brought out the shearer and cut around the area of the heated crest, cutting out a round hole.

Belo, his second apprentice, came forth with a pair of flat shaped prongs and inserted it into the round hole made and put it up against the wall. Wallace continued to roll, rolling with greater effort knowing that the glass was cooling rapidly, and it wasn't long before the round hole was made so large that it was as wide as the rest of the gather, turning it almost into a cylinder.

"Enough." Wallace said and Belo stopped. Lucas, his son, came back with the three sided prongs that would hold the outside of the gather and his son carefully checked to see if the gather was fine or needed some more work.

It was fine, it turns. Wallace rarely was wrong in his measurements with the eye.

At least now, years later.

Wallace used the moments he had to wipe away the sweat on his forehead, waiting as he was to let the glass cool enough so that it could be grabbed by the three headed prongs. Wallace eyed his four and ten nameday old son who was focused and watching the glass.

Hmm.

At least he remained focused despite the occasion he was beginning to miss out on.

Soon enough, the glass cooled enough to be picked up by the prongs and finally when the roll of glass was in the bosom of the prongs, did Wallace break off the glass, leaving behind a jagged opening at the end that had been connected with the end of his blower.

Wallace stepped aside and let his son take the roll of glass into the furnace and Wallace took the opportunity to look at the Kallos and he leaned down and peaked through the opening.

In the furnace, there were some six and ten flattened rolls of glass at the far end where it was cooler than at the front, and before the end of the day, they would have some two and twenty of these sheets. Perhaps one or two more if they were not so wasteful.

"Father." He heard his son say and he turned back towards his son. He saw Belo opening up the jagged end, almost finished, and Wallace looked at the glass for any problems. 'Not much. A bit less clearer than a few others but that happens when you're nearing the bottom of the pot' he thought to himself.

He watched the glass cool as his son turned the glass and when he was satisfied that the glass was fine, he had his son move it to the worktable. He picked up the cutter and he cut the tube from end to end on the bottom inner side of the tube before he had his son take it to the Kallos.

Wallace took one of the flats and he moved it onto the entrance side of the Kallos before he took hold of the first winder. "Prepare me another gather, Belo." Wallace said before he began to turn the winder, which was always a chore given it sapped at his strength, and the round bars at the front moved, moving the flat further into the furnace through the moving of the pulleys. "Now." Wallace said and his son obeyed, and placed the cut roll of glass onto the flat.

Wallace eyed his son though he had no need of it for his son grabbed the flattening tool and kept wary eyes on the glass that would soon fold into itself if not made to flatten, and with a satisfied noise, he made way towards the working furnace, to start the process again.

A little while later…

Wallace watched his son place the eight and tenth's roll into the Kallos furnace before he spoke up. "Lucas." He called out to his son who turned towards him with beads of sweat on his face, the distant sounds of other glassmaking a shadowing presence.

"You may go to the celebrations. You oughta to catch at least some of the celebrations if you make your way back to the city now." Wallace said as he wiped at his hands with a dirty rag. Lucas looked at him with wide blue eyes before a look of excitement passed across his face.

His son had asked him for the luxury some time ago however he'd denied it, despite Asra's disapproval.

But with business as demanding as it is, something that had not ceased ever since they'd started up glassmaking again years ago, he wanted to keep earning those bonuses they got whenever they exceeded their quotas by five and twenty percent.

If he saved up enough, he could buy up more plots of land, a larger one, and build two larger glassmaking shops, larger than that of Enric's, whilst giving this one to his goodson, ideally that being Belo, as dowry for his eldest daughter.

And with more people coming every year, he could pick and choose and train some of the younger ones to help make more window panes.

And mayhaps find another Myrrish goodson for his youngest daughter too.

"Truly? I thought you didn't w-" Wallace waved it off.

"Do you want to go or not? Before I change my mind?" Wallace glared at his son and his son shook his head avidly before he almost ran to large bowl of water prepared for cleaning oneself off of the dirt and more.

"Do you want to go with him?" Wallace asked Belo with a raised eyebrow.

The Myrrish boy of six and ten namedays took on a look of consideration before he shook his head. "I will help you finish up."

Wallace nodded curtly though inwardly he was pleased at the dutifulness of the boy. He had done well to accept the boy as his ward.

Wallace turned to look at his son who was nearly finished.

"You will work well into the night in the coming week, understand? Including nights after yer schooling." Wallace said to his son and his son grimaced before he nodded and bade his farewell, quickly leaving.

Wallace sighed before he shook his head. He knew half the reason the boy was so keen in going was because of that pretty silk-weaver girl.

"After a few more, you shall go too. If yer lucky, you won't have missed out on all of the food and ale."

Belo said nothing to that but he didn't expect him to. He'd learnt enough over the past year that the boy was a quiet one. Though he was not yet sure if it was by nature or if it was because of what made him flee Myr in the first place…

Not that he was complaining. Or his fellows in the Guild. There were only about twenty or so glassmakers or glassworkers from Myr that had come from amongst the hundreds of Myrrish artisans that'd fled the city, most of them mere indentured workers or former slaves, but their presence had helped grow their skills tremendously.

Intricate ways of shaping glass into cups or wares and the like, secrets of what was needed to colour glass this or that glass, or to give this or that appearance…

Wallace had known only the way of making clear glass. As a young lad alongside forty or so men and his long-dead sire, he'd worked with His Grace and Edwyn Hestatis when they'd been trying to figure out how to do it, but all of the attempts had only been to make clear glass and sell the method to the Braavosi.

Only a few times were his skills needed, and those times had only been to make panes on the galleons or to make the glass in the compass, with most other times having taken up odd jobs here or there.

Which was similar presently, the only exception now that he was completely a glassmaker only not needed to take up any other jobs such as building with his earnings. Elamaerys had a great hunger for glass, needing him and the guild to make many, many thousands of panes of glass for houses, estates, buildings, Septs and much more.

But…eventually, when the need to maintain quotas wasn't so severe, when there were more settlers coming from Myr with the infighting there which may get as bad as war in Volantis, likely many of them glassmakers, there may be time to try these new ways of making glass.

He could already see it.

Whilst business was very good to him and his fellows in the Guild, he couldn't help but think that he could make much more by making beautiful looking – and expensive – wares with all kinds of colour in them.

It would be more than enough to help perhaps buy a plot of land twice or thrice the size he needed, with a small army of apprentices and workers making wares.

Wallace shook his head.

'Enough dreaming' he thought to himself and he began again.

Hours later…

It was in the twilight of eve and night when he'd finished up and closed up his shop, his whale oil lamp lighting his way.

He passed by the other glassmaking shops – some of which were still running – bidding his goodbye to whomever he saw, like saggy old Clover, whose barking orders to his grandsons probably were heard leagues afar, and he walked down the muddy path back towards the city, the light of his oil lamp and the distant lights from across the river where the Docklands and the ships moored were his only greatest source of light.

The glassmakers quarter was far from the city, some three leagues away from the city square, with only the Docklands nearest.

It was a long walk back to home.

Wallace liked it not and would have preferred it much closer to home – ideally he could've had his home right beside his shop – but according to Clayton, Head of the Glassmaker's Guild, the Dragon Council and the Lower Council had no wish to have hard and dirty work like glassmaking at the centre of the city.

Wallace had scoffed at that, wondering why the blacksmiths weren't being moved out if the concern was about dirtying up the city, though he was mollified a few years later when they'd been moved out also, though they were closer to His Grace the Archon's future castle on the small mountain.

Not surprising giving how Elamaeri Steel was made with the Graces' dragons…

He shook his head before he looked towards the city.

At least the shops will be in the city walls when they eventually go up. 'Could even be at a time when my children are as old as old Clover' Wallace mused.

His Grace the Archon, truly had the favour of God and the Seven. Twice he'd been there. In Corinth and here, when in both instances there'd been nought but wooden huts and stale bread.

And twice he'd seen cities be built out of nothing.

He thanked every day God and the Seven and most of all his father for electing them to go with the then-Prince. He'd seen the Gods work through His Grace with his own eyes…

'Perhaps I may see Velos when I am old and withered. Make it three out of three, making sure that before I perish that I can say I saw all of Aegon's Three Cities like few others will be able to say.' Wallace mused before he shook his head.

In any case, with thousands of new settlers arriving to do away with the evils of Essos, most of 'em giving five or ten years of paid service to Elamaerys before they are granted citizenship and a home or land, there was nought that wasn't being built or being finished.

And with what Belo told him, about how even in Myr Elamaerys was spoken of, as a lush land of great wealth and opportunity for those brave enough to seek it, he did not think the stream of settlers arriving would end any time soon.

'And with the silver found not far from the river somewhere thirty leagues upstream, news of great wealth would only get spread more in time' Wallace mused to himself before he shook his head wryly.

At least that portion will be true.

The portions of the claims that said there was silver even if it was not a mountain of silver. He'd heard enough from the new folk that some of them truly thought that they all lived in manors or owned vineyards that grew the sweetest of grapes!

The sailors on the merchant ships must be beside themselves with laugher at all the gullible fools that believed the tall lies they were spinning…

But Wallace supposed there was some truths in all of those lies, at least compared to the sorry Hells some of the poor fools came from.

Though most of the settlers were from Velos, there were plenty coming from Lys and now from other places from Essos, especially Liberty Bay.

It wouldn't surprise him if more from Myr would come in the years to come, especially if it was true that the Braavosi were cruel masters. 'And probably Volantis too' Wallace mused.

He'd heard about the war that was being fought inside of Volantis' walls and outside of it too, where apparently, the daughter-cities of Volantis were besieging Volantis! Wallace shook his head. At least they were far away from the perils of Essos and their ne'er ending wars…and the harshness of life as commonfolk in Westeros.

Even if he had to walk leagues to get home…

A little while later…

When he returned to the city proper, he was beset with the sight of celebration.

Men and women and children were in the streets, even at this time, still celebrating the wedding of His Grace Castorys, the one most took to call the Golden after his dragon and his dutifulness to the city and the people since he was but a boy, and the Her Grace Breannei, who was well beloved for her boldness and beauty.

The streets were decorated still, with the marvels of the Yi-Tish Lanterns, made out of Yi-Tish paper with a small candle with a fire burning to light and 'lift' the lantern into the sky as if by magic, dotting all around, and he could hear the jolliness all around him.

Most had not worked much this day. Each day of the wedding, a 'public holiday' was called, where one only had to work a half day, with the wages of the rest of the day covered by the royal family, including food and ale, and the people loved it.

Some thought that perhaps the Archon add these days permanently, like the eight public holidays, which included celebrations of the day of their leaving of Dragonstone, the arrival at Corinth, the day of the news of Elamaerys, the day of the Archonate and the four religious days of the faith, but Wallace doubted it.

It was no cheap celebration this, he mused to himself, and he thought the His Grace the Archon must be fainting at the coin he was spending on this lavish celebration!

Gods knew that he dreaded the coin he would have to put up for his daughters, and his sons if he let his wife succeed in her pestering for their sons to have a Lysene-style celebration. He'd seen how much Wyllis, their neighbour, had to pay to give one such celebration. He wanted no part of it…

He passed through the large crowd present in the Gardens of Triumph which had the beautiful statues from Liberty Bay of Dragonlords, Dragons, Griffins, and other great winged beasts amongst the flowers and colourful plants, and it wasn't long before he finally made it home.

"Father!" His youngest daughter and son came running towards him as he entered through the door, wild of eye and excitement brimming on their faces.

"I saw the Graces! I saw them! They left the Great Sept and they waved at me!" his daughter Alys said with awe on her face.

"They waved at everybody. Not just you." His son Lewys said and it made his daughter twist her face and Wallace rolled his head and he smacked Lewys at the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Don't anger your sister for no reason." Wallace said with glare and Lewys had the good sense to look down at the ground and he was satisfied enough before he turned to his daughter who looked smug at her brother.

He smacked her on the head too.

"Oh! I didn't do anything!" His daughter gave him the same glare he got often from his wife and he felt amused at the poor bugger who he'd foist her off to.

"I didn't like that look." Wallace said to her before he continued "Now off you go. You can tell me all about what yer saw after I had some grub in me. Asra!"

"Heatin' it up now!" Gods. A good woman she was.

He walked through the house, and he saw his eldest daughter Ysabel quietly reading out of that storybook to his youngest son Tomas in the living quarters, and as he paused, she too paused, though in her reading, and looked towards him.

"Father." She made to move, his youngest son of four namedays complaining about the stop but Wallace waved her off.

"Don't mind me." Wallace said with a grunt though he smiled a little at the sight. Her grasp on High Valyrian was the best amongst his children, clever little sot as she was. He was reminded once more of his wife's complaints how she'd be better a wife to one of them scholars than a glassmaker's…

He walked away and he soon arrived at the dining room, and he heard her shout from the kitchen just before he was to take his seat, damnably. "Oh, before I forget. An administrator came by. He'll come by again tomorrow."

Wallace frowned. "Which type?"

"The Civil Service. Didn't say what he does though. I didn't ask." She should've.

"What did he want?" He had no business that needed one of them to come by. At least as far as he knew.

"Wouldn't say. Only told me that he'd be by again in the early morn and hoped to catch you before you left in the morn."

"Hmm. I doubt it." Wallace said. He left before the sun rose. If he wanted to get his quotas done, he needed to do so. Wallace stood up and went towards the kitchen where he saw his wife boiling stew.

She looked at him with a frown on his face. "I think you should wait for him. I think it might be important."

Wallace had a disagreeable face before he gave in. "Fine." He would complain about it to the Head though.

She snorted as she looked at him with something crossed with disappointment and amusement. "Affronted you seem despite already intending to work our boy to the bone for letting him go early. You won't miss your dear quotas, husband."

"He told you?" He would make that betrayer work twice as hard as he intended.

She sniffed. "He didn't need to. You just did."

Wallace twisted his face. "Damnable woman." He muttered before he walked away and back to the table. "The work will only do him good. Better he get used to the hard work now than struggle later."

His son had nearly spent his entire life on Elamaerys. He did not have it entirely easy but he had a protected childhood, despite the hardships of the early years.

Whilst he was proud that his son knew his letters and words and much more – he still liked his son, or his daughter, to read to him from the Seven-Pointed Star – he was worried that he did not have the discipline needed to keep to glassmaking.

It was hard work. Well paying hard work but it was hard work still. It wouldn't do for his eldest not to take the family business, especially if Tomas shows similar favour to something else, like Lewys and his stubborn want to become a sailor.

"Well, better make sure he won't hate it." His wife only said snippily and Wallace grumbled but said nothing to it, and instead he poured himself an ale and sat down, waiting on his food.

The next day…

His wife poured the administrator watered wine in one of the ale cups and Wallace grimaced internally at the sight of it, and he did his best not to glare at his wife.

Wine, watered wine though it may be, wasn't cheap. They only had one smallbarrel of it and usually they reserved it for special occasions…

"So, good man." Wallace began after the man thanked his wife, wanting as he was to get this over with so he could get back to his furnace. He'd sent his son and Belo ahead to start the work and though they both were skilled enough to be work the furnaces and the glass, he did not like to keep them unsupervised.

"What did you wish to speak off?"

The man had introduced himself when he'd arrived, saying that he worked in the 'Department of Planning', which was coordinated the creation and allocations of lands and the like. Wallace had been taken aback by that, wondering why he was here…

As far as Wallace knew, he was unlikely to get any more land. At least right now. And it wasn't as if he'd have much use for it presently…

The man, named Dracho Barduqys, an apt surname given that he was a scribe, of a sort at least, smiled at Wallace good naturedly.

"Have you kept up with word on the streets about the new settlement that shall be built on Draconys?" Dracho asked and Wallace raised his eyebrows, and he sent a look at his wife who took a seat in the chair beside him before he looked back at Dracho.

"Aye, of course I have." Wallace said simply. How could he not know? It had been known for many moons. His Grace Castorys, Her Grace Breannei, a few thousand settlers and a few thousand labourers were going to go there soon.

Perhaps as soon as a week.

Dracho nodded. "Well then you should also know that Our Graces have wish to finish up the town of Gaelysia within seven to five and ten years." Dracho paused for a moment. "And that is why I am here." Dracho said again in a pause whilst Wallace frowned with no small amount of confusion hitting him.

"Your sons, at least one of them, if they show a want of continuing a business in glassmaking, will be granted land for a glassmaking shop along with a finished home fully paid for." The administrator said to Wallace, causing his eyebrows to rise even further than before.

"Oh!" His wife remarked surprised. "Well, that's wonderful!" And Wallace looked at her, and saw that she was truly delighted by it.

"Has this offer been made to others too?" Wallace asked as he wrenched his gaze from his wife.

"Yes, a few and a few more will also be given the option. Presently, we are looking to favour those who have large families first." Dracho stated and Wallace nodded slightly. He knew that His Grace the Archon favoured families to be large and there were many incentives for those who did have large families.

Less taxes, priority to land allocations, and more.

And with the midwives and the Healers, the risk of childbirth had lessened greatly. Rarely did he hear a woman perish on the woman's bed.

"Ain't it too soon to discuss matters such as this?" Wallace then asked, still a little confused why they were coming up with this now. There wasn't enough much done to Draconys, as far as he knew.

Only stones shipped there. And some supplies, he guessed. But still, the lands were untouched and as the man said, it would be many years before true needs for goods like glass would be needed there.

"It is however we would like to plan ahead as far as possible. Our Graces want to build Gaelysia as soon as possible so that eventually it help increase the settlements on the lands surrounding it, and on the islands near it." Dracho then brought out a paper for him to see and Wallace frowned a little before he gestured to his wife. She dutifully picked it up and began to read it.

"Ysabel!" his wife shouted and a hail of steps descended down the wooden steps. Hmm. The words must've been too difficult for her to read. His wife was better at reading than Wallace was but it came easy to their eldest children.

"I can-" Wallace shook his head.

"Our daughter can do it." After all, what was the point of all of those lessons?

His wife handed over the paper to their daughter who dutifully began to read out what was written and Wallace considered it all. Though some of it was hard to understand, he at least understood most of it.

It was basically a pledge of a kind. No…a contract. That he would train at least one of his sons to take up the business of glassmaking for Gaelysia, and in return, his son would take on no debts in the establishment of the glassmaking shop.

It was an excellent deal that would secure the future of two of his sons. Or more if he managed to talk some sense in Lewys.

"Must I agree now?" Wallace asked.

Dracho shook his head as he stood. "No. You have one year to decide this though you should know there's limited allocations in Gaelysia." And if he was to decline, and at least another one of his sons decide to take up the business of glassmaking, he'd have to make sure they had something to inherit. Out of his own pocket.

Wallace nodded before he also stood and he took the paper from Ysabel's hands to give back to the administrator who only shook his head.

"Keep it. When you do decide, come with it. It will be signed by yourself and someone at the department, if you agree to it." The administrator said and he soon left.

"Well" His wife said before she dusted off her dress. "That's Tomas' future's secured."

"Woulda thought you would complain about it like you are with Lucas." Wallace muttered quietly as he looked at the paper. "Tomas will still be too young."

"I wasn't talking about sending our littlest boy away." His wife said affronted. "Lucas can go. He'll be a man long before then. Tomas can take your shop here."

Ah…that made sense.

Wallace shook his head. "Well, I'm off. Should be back after sundown." Wallace before he gave the paper to his wife.

"Don't be too late." His wife said unhelpfully and Wallace grumbled as he left.

-Break-

Elamaerys, Astavāe Stadia

Valerion Velaryon POV

Valerion remained in his seat even as the commonfolk at the lower seats rose from their seats as the fast runner from the blue coloured team, Iron Knights, broke through the defensive formation of the yellow coloured team, the Thundering Pack, and made his way towards the line.

One of the Thundering Pack ate up the distance between, drawing nearer and nearer to the galloping Iron Knight, causing the crowd to rouse in greater cheer and howls, but ultimately the distance was too great as the Iron Knight dived and scored to extend the lead the Iron Knights had.

Valerion turned his gaze towards the men who were sat below them in the 'noble quarter' of the stands, who he caught exchanging coin, causing him to scowl irritably but he was soon divested of his attention towards them as he heard his kin surrounding him talk amongst each other.

"I must admit this contest is far more excitable than I had expected. Not as worthwhile as a Tourney but then as a contest amongst common men, I can see its popularity amongst the smallfolk."

Valerion turned his head towards them and he saw it had been Monford Velaryon who had spoken, speaking to Malentine and Aeryn Velaryon who were nearest to him with Aeryn's sons Gaemon and Monterys on his other side with their cousins Laryssa Velaryon and Daenaera Velaryon, who were present with their husbands Aurane Calnaereon and Maelor Qargaris.

"It would be better if it were without these – what they called? – reveries? The contest would be far more enjoyable without their imposition." Malentine said somewhat distastefully, his look taking on a similar quality.

"Referees." Aeryn corrected before continuing. "Their presence is needed to keep order." Aeryn supplied. "Otherwise the injuries would grow severe. Already it is quite a demanding contest with aplenty of broken arms and lost teeth. Besides, it is meant to help instil discipline in the young…and men." Aeryn said without much inflection in his voice but Valerion could sense the hidden meaning behind them.

Valerion looked back towards the field which was already resetting.

Discipline that begun at the youngest of ages.

Every 'school' in the city all had teams for each age group that competed against each other and against other schools, and it was a favourite pastime for the young and for the old.

So much so that at certain times of the fifth day and sixth day of the week, there was a great lull of activity whereby parents all ventured to their children's schools to watch the contests.

It was encouraged, even for children who would be expected to aid their parents' shops or employ which may be as mundane as a butcher or a jeweller yet their parents would see their children partake in such teams.

It might even be a sign of prestige, of pride, for these commoners yet what Valerion could see the most, something that took him some time to understand, was the subtle training of a people who were being physically and mentally prepared for war.

Valerion looked around, eying the thousands of commoners who had turned up to watch this 'championship game' between two well supported teams in the unfinished Stadia which was still surrounded by wooden platforms 7/8ths around the field.

This contest, above all others, was immensely popular, the sight of portly men and spindly boys playing the contest in the 'parks' frequent at the end of day, and it was not hard to see why. It was a game of war, something that these people knew and supported greatly, even those who had not once raised a sword in their lives.

Nearly all of these people were, at one point or another, slaves. Those who were not, had either fought against slavers, or had married former slaves.

And all had seen the value of strength and how it could protect them.

Valerion thought that this contest of Rugby exemplified that, even if it mayhaps was not quite understood by most of the commonfolk, but Aegon and the rest of the leading men of Elamaerys certainly did…and they capitalised on it.

It was no surprise that many of the physically talented or wiliest of children joined up to either the 'Royal Military Academy' or the 'Royal Navy Academy', where if they were talented enough, they were taught amongst the children of nobility in the same classes, which until recently included Solonys Targaryen…

Valerion continued to watch the contest whilst having half an ear to the conversation of his kinsmen, watching as the contest heated up as the Thundering Pack managed to crawl back into the game with hard fought scoring, and in the end, when the sand timer signalled the end of the game, they managed to lose more respectably than what seemed initially likely, and it was evident that the supporters of the Packs appreciated the effort despite the loss given their respectful applaud.

After the game ended, Valerion begun to leave the stadia with his kinsfolk and the heirs of the newly ennobled Houses of Calnaereon and Qargaris by carriage.

With his kinsmen soon leaving for Elamaerys now that the last of the royal weddings had ended, seeing at least one of the contests played by men who were experts at it had been agreed upon.

Soon enough, they'd arrived at the 'Sea-Horse' Estates, which consisted of his estate and Aeryn's estate, each some two or three thousand square yards in size, half of it typically the size of the Estate building, the rest their allotted lands in the city.

Their estates were separate and detached from the other estates by large amounts of untouched lands, with only a single brick road and many mud roads marking any signs of men in between their Estates and that of the other Estates.

It was a good space, he could admit.

It was half a league away from the centre of the city square and half a league away from the Royal Residences and where the eventual castle of the Resident's Hall of the Advisors and 'Senior Members of government' where.

The heirs of Calnaereon and Qargaris soon left for their own estates with his distant female cousins, leaving him alone with his kinsmen, much to Valerion's gratification.

Whilst he held no ire with the two heirs given that he did respect their fathers for their prowess but nonetheless, they were a representation of what he disdained.

The new nobility. If nobility even could truly be called that, new or otherwise. If anything, it was a mockery of the position nobility of esteemed bloodlines held in the world.

They'd been promised the rights to set up a branch of their House, and raise them into nobility but only later did he truly understand what all of that meant.

Fiefless lords, no more than landowners with noble rights, though even those noble rights were limited and may as well not exist. In truth, they were men without balls, without arms, cut off before they could even grow to form, and they were entirely at the mercy of the Targaryens, exactly how the Archon wanted them to be, serving at the whim of the royal House, with no real leverage.

And these new nobility had fitted into the new order without a single complaint and with their numbers far greater and positions more secure, there was little that could be done to press the Targaryens into allowing a more natural state of being…

Hours later…at the Velaryon private Bathhouse

Valerion sighed with a small sense of satisfaction as he sank deeper into the pool, the sweat dripping from his brow into the pool as steam clouded the large room.

The bathhouse was in between the two 'Sea-horse' Estates, and open to any Velaryon and their guests. Aeryn had it built a year or so ago, a works that could have only been paid for due to an 'understanding' Aeryn had reached with the Archon regarding the later-announced consort betrothal between Gaemon and Rhaena.

"I must say" Lord Gunthor Darklyn began, who was seated directly opposite him at the far end of the pool but with the way the bathhouse was built, a voice travelled far and wide. "I have been convinced to built one of these back home. I cannot believe I have seen four and forty years on this world yet I have not been in one of these bathhouses until I arrived here." The man laughed at his own words.

Valerion was joined in the bathhouse with Lord Gunthor Darklyn, Osbert Burne heir to Brownhollow, Heir Raynard Thorne, Malentine and Monford Velaryon.

He'd developed a…rapport with them over the course of a few weeks, where he'd gotten a measure of them, enough to be able to speak…more freely in private.

Elamaerys seemed like it was a shock to many of the nobles who'd arrived from Westeros, especially after they'd gotten past the issue of language – for none other than his kin and the Celtigars knew a lick of High Valyrian – and understood.

From the 'sheer scale of apostasy' of the Faith of the Seven, to the blatant uses of magic to the loss of distinguishment of the nobility to that of the common rabble…which included these new lords.

Of course, those who were offended by visible sight of the manipulation of the Faith, or by the use of magic, or by the lessening of the nobility's place, said nothing.

Nothing could be said lest one was a fool and eager to die. None had come with a great many number of guards, even the Lords, when the invitation had gone out, the promise of safe journey and a place of honour having been enough then.

They would not stand a chance if they voiced their disapproval in any scale. The commoners worshipped the Archon and his family with a disturbing zeal. An offense against them was seen as an offense to them all and an affront to the gods.

Nevertheless, Valerion had little doubt that whatever they thought, truly thought, would make its way back to Westeros, and the reactions there would not be pleasant, particularly by the Faith who may well press the King to act in some way.

After all, it was they who were the most 'aggrieved' with the claims of prophethood and favour from the Gods. Not even the Dornish, for all of their vile and deceptive nature, did anything that severe with the Faith, even if they absorbed queer Rhoynar customs and beliefs into the Faith.

Valerion doubted the King would act in any significant way, especially against his brother but he would not be surprised if the Hightowers did act, or at least used it to further their schemes.

Something that might not be particularly reserved for the Hightowers too, at least from what he could glean from some of the nobility that'd arrived. He was sure they were sent to gather as much information as possible. Lord Gunthor, has not been shy to proclaim his alignment with Princess Rhaenyra and the Prince-Consort Baelon.

It would not surprise him if, through the jostling of favour with the Faith once the succession dispute flaired up, that the Westeros' trade agreements – agreements of silk, porcelain, fabrics and other luxurious goods – made with Elamaerys years ago were to suffer greatly.

In all honesty, he was surprised that it hadn't already.

The claims of prophethood and the manipulation of the Faith was already evident on the Isle of Cedars, where Septons sermonised the new Faith every day. Most of the new settlers were well grounded in the new Faith before they'd even arrived.

And with Velos, in the latter years, having become a major port for Westerosi ships to trade goods from the mainland, news of the new Faith and the Septons surely reached the shores of Westeros.

From the few…conversations he'd had, whilst it was known, it wasn't understood how differing the new faith was to the Faith of the Seven, especially the differences that were in the Seven-Pointed Star written in High Valyrian, which boasted enough differences that it significantly altered the stories and the messages in the holy book.

Something that the likes of Lord Gunthor were now thoroughly aware of.

Valerion thought that once these Lords and nobles returned to Westeros, he didn't think they'd keep it silent, as he suspects was being done by the Iron Throne and the Hightowers who had far greater issues to deal with.

Valerion was brought out of his thoughts when Monford spoke up. "Driftmark has one of these although not the steam." Monford Velaryon admitted.

"A simple change to make once cousin Corlys learns of the way it is created." Malentine said before he snorted, his voice taking on a quality of mocking. "I am sure we can convince Laenor to espouse the wonders of the steamroom."

Valerion felt his lips twitch at that though he kept himself from voicing his amusement, something that was not done by the rest of the men.

Laenor was a disappointing Velaryon, to say the least, even if one disregarded his…offensive nature. Aye, he was an able swordsman but he was weak. Soft. Yet he had the ear of Lord Corlys, despite no longer being the heir and despite disappointing the Seasnake with every breathe he took.

Getting Lord Corlys to agree anything was near impossible but for Laenor…?

"Are you ready for the long journey ahead?" Valerion found himself asking the men in the room. All of the men were returning back to Westeros within a few days.

"Nay." Raynard Thorne was the one to speak and there was displeasure in his voice. "I may not have sea salt in my veins like you Velaryons, or you Darklyn, but I am no stranger to the sea yet moons more on that open treacherous sea again…"

"Be glad you encountered no storms." Valerion said with a scoff.

When he'd finished his five years in the accursed Velos and Liberty Bay, he'd been rewarded with falling prey to a storm that lasted two days and a night, a storm that'd seen some sailors fall and vanish under the seas, seas that could grow as tall as mountains or as deep as the hollowest of valleys.

Valerion had never felt so small on the sea then in those few short minutes he'd braved being on deck, going as far as praying to the Merlin King, something he'd not done since he'd been a child when he'd first sailed across open sea.

He'd also gained a new appreciation of the shipbuilding of the Galleons which over the past seven years had only lost one ship, with most of the ships damaged surviving enough to be towed back to Dragonsgate Port.

"You're fortunate enough to set sail during Spring." Valerion added. Whilst he had not yet sailed since he'd arrived at Elamaerys, he did hear enough from those around him to know that they'd gotten an understanding what seasons were not the ideal to set sail in. Typically, it was the Autumn and the Summer with the most storms with occasional storms during the winter though they were said to be rare.

Spring was the best times.

They remained in the steam room for some time longer, largely silently enjoying the heat and steam of the room though eventually, all of them left save for Valerion and Lord Gunthor Darklyn, whom Valerion knew would speak of the offer he'd made a few days ago.

"Speaking of setting sail," Lord Gunthor Darklyn paused for a moment when more steam was released through the copper pipes from the top of the room though he quickly continued. "Have you finished considering my offer?"

Valerion remained silent for a few moment. There was a lordship in his lands that had no heirs, at least no heirs with defendable claims, and Gunthor had offered to grant him this keep and lordship in Darklyn lands in exchange for his…knowledge.

"You are hesitating" Lord Gunthor declared and Valerion met the man's eyes which seemed to bore into him. "Though why, I fail to understand." Lord Gunthor shook his head before he peered at Valerion. "You will become a true lord. A Lord of your own keep. Not some" Gunthor Darklyn looked disgusted "false lord with scraps of land amongst pretenders who worship a…man like Prince Aegon."

'And how many others have you offered this too and been rejected?' Valerion mused to himself. He'd seen Gunthor with Lucas Sunglass, Clarence Bar Emmon and others, likely having at least felt them out to see if they could be turned.

That he was asking again, told him that they almost certainly rejected his offer.

It was not hard to understand.

Whilst their…status of nobility was weakened, they still had a firmer place with the ruling family than they would have in Westeros, where their status as mere scions of branch Houses of no real import seriously hindered their influence.

His own sons, Jacaerys and Daemion, had all but become wards of the royal family at the Royal Residences with the Bar Emmons, Aeryn's children, the Celtigars and the other nobility, learning their arms from Unsullied, gladiators and the veterans of the wars Aegon had fought, striking acquaintances if not friendships with the Targaryens.

And if the rumours were true, Solonys would go to Essos to hunt down slavers and corsairs in a few years, much like how Castorys and Valarr had done years ago, an opportunity he knew his sons, who were of a similar age to Solonys, were likely to do as well once they were done with the Royal Naval Academy, hopefully creating a closer bond with the Targaryens, like his daughter had done with Rhaena, whom she'd developed a friendship over shared interest in Valyrian and Lysene Arts.

Such tales were similar with the other nobility, each of their heirs and spares kept close to the royal family, and likely would have a places made for them in the Civil Service, the army, the navy or the Trading Companies, and almost certainly keep a place of honour with the Targaryens as nobles of the Realm.

Such influence would not be begotten if they were to return only to gain a measly lordship sworn to a vassal that was largely unbefitting for the majority of them.

A Velaryon…as far as he was from the main line, sworn to a Darklyn…!

And silently, Valerion thought to himself, he did not think the lordship would amount to much anyway. So all he could rule over a few thousand smallfolk on land that could only grow wheat, barley and cabbages and nought else, except whatever coin Darklyn deigned to give him for developing a merchant company like the two Companies.

As it was, his lands, two thousand acres of prime lands in the western countryside, was growing orchards of apples, pears, grapes and sugar cane, with the latter two already yielding him some produce and the first barrels of wines and sacks of crystal sugar and though it was but a fraction of what he earned from his shares in the Trading Companies, it spoke well of what was to come.

The neighbouring lands, which were owned by the nobility, grew similar crops and other crops too such as citrus, bananas, strawberries, olives, sunflowers, linseed, some Summer Islander plant called the indigo flower, marigold, yarrows and more, whilst most of the Knightly Houses had lands to rear and raise horses.

Effectively, the nobility were to corner a significant proportion of produce, which could be used to produce wines, ciders, oils and dyes, to be used in export and to be used in Elamaerys, allowing them to earn coin from the fruits of their lands.

And in time, he knew that more lands would be sequestered away to produce spices in the warm wetlands in the south and ironwood grown in the hardy and windy hills in the northeast beyond the mountains, which the Archon had all but confirmed would be given to loyal members of the nobility to reap the rewards.

Whilst they did not rule directly over the smallfolk, they did hire them to work their lands, with most of them being labourers who sought to own their own lands after years of service.

The way the lands were arranged, it allowed for small villages to crop up at the borders of their lands, lands that they could also sell or rent out to allow smallfolk to build their homes there – something that he knew had been encouraged by a few of the nobility – with the aim that those villages were to stay and grow into towns.

Especially once the surrounding lands that were marked for farmland were settled, allowing the labourers more opportunities and coin for using their hands as extra labourers for harvest and sowing periods.

Not everyone would be suited for the life of a farmer, Valerion knew this, and families that were unable to work the land and sold it would need jobs they were skilled at, after all.

Which was why, amongst the privileges they had such as a maximum income tax of ten percent for fifty years, privileged tutoring, right of spares sons to land, and more, they also had the right to charter and sponsor the development of a town an earn a percentage of income tax of that town, encouraging the nobility to aid in the development of the countryside being leagues and leagues of farmlands, allowing more opportunity for workers to work to produce valuable crops.

And with the trade agreements the Archon and Sallen Baerros had reached with the Liberty Bay islands with regards to supply of wine and other luxury goods the former slave cities were not famed of producing, they had a stable source of markets for their goods, ensuring that their income would continue to grow as trade with the Liberty Bay cities continued to grow.

And then there were the Trading Companies.

The Northern Trading Company and the Eastern Trading Company.

The Northern Trading Companies had smaller 'divisions', which traded with the Heel of Essos, Westeros and Northern Essos whilst similarly the Eastern Trading Company had divisions that traded with the Summer Isles, Liberty Bay and Yi-Ti, and these companies…

To say they were growing profitable with great deals of more growth to come was an understatement.

The creation of the companies had happened nearly six years ago, and it anyone with the means could purchase shares of the Companies, and tens of thousands of gold coins were invested in these companies, with a significant portion done so by the nobility and knightly Houses at the behest of the Archon, though it has only been in the last few years that they were getting true returns.

With the luxury goods that were in full swing – fabrics alone was growing to produce everything from linen to lace to satin-silk, velvet-silk, velvet-linen with the secretive means that significantly hastened production – the demand of their goods had seen the yearly returns of their shares grow.

From the Summer Isles to Braavos, their fabrics were beginning to be highly sought after whilst in the east, Yi-Ti in particular, their want was mostly pelts, silver and gems, the latter being something that came easily with the form of payment the Summer Isles often did in return for the fabrics. And with the findings of veins of silver further south, the profitability of the Companies was only going to grow obscenely with the way the Yi-Tish ate up silver.

Whilst there were limitation on the percentage of goods to be sold outside of Elamaerys, with a fixed amount at a fixed price to be sold to Elamaeri, the increased rates of production, something that continued to grow every year, ensured that the amount of profits to be made remained high.

And with the option to purchase shares from those who wished to sell theirs at the gates of the incomplete building of the Elamaeri Stock Exchange, though none had done so thus far, one could increase their returns and also importantly their influence over the Companies, even if it was miniscule to that of the Royal Family.

And once goods like wool, wines, ciders – along with dyes that were all grown in Elamaerys instead of expensively imported from Lys or Tyrosh – were producing as much as fabrics, or more, the Companies were going to dominate some of the largest trading goods markets in the Known World.

And Valerion doubted that once that happened it was going to stop, not with how heavily bound the Companies were with the Navy and the Army.

The ships still belonged to the Royal Family and every ship that was being built and used for the Companies, which would rent it at a miniscule fee to be used for maintenance, was also going to be either owned by the Royal Family or it was going to be owned by Elamaerys, effectively giving the Companies the backing of the dragons and the army.

The crews of the ships were paid by the Companies, for the most part, whilst the soldiers and knights serving on the ship on behalf of the Archonate, and therefore paid by Elamaerys, which presently included nearly a third of the Army serving on the ships with another third serving on Velos and the rest of the Isle of Cedars.

The Companies were Elamaerys and Elamaerys would soon be the Companies.

With such backing, it was unlikely that competition, as Gunthor would see him make at Duskendale with what he'd learnt during his stay here in Elamaerys, was going to be successful.

"A true lord sworn to you, Lord Gunthor." Valerion said without much change in his expression as he levelled his gaze at the man. "Whilst it is true that my lordship here is not as…traditional as it would be in Westeros, you must admit that I stand to gain more personally here than I would there." 'Where you would stand to gain the most.' He left unsaid but the Darklyn Lord understood all too well.

The Companies, or at least the trading ships of Elamaerys, were becoming well known, more than they already were. The Carracks, also known as 'Castle Ships', had grown in numbers, especially by the time he'd been finishing up his service in Velos, where he'd seen the shipyards improve the rate of ship construction.

Of course, he was had not been permitted to be actually present in the shipyard – not even commanders unless approved by the Archon and the Jenyārōñedārys of the Isle of Cedars – but he'd seen as much as three ships produced in a single moon at those shipyards, and if it wasn't for the fact that sailors were the largest cause of short supply, he was sure that the shipyard would be producing that on a frequent basis.

By now, he was quite sure that the number of Carracks had grown to over hundred and sixty carracks, with over five thousand soldiers and knights protecting the merchant ships…

In any case, it was common enough to Elamaeri ships in most major ports, the ships sailing far and wide, and as such, news of the success of the merchant fleets was becoming well known.

And with the news that the Lysene were also accomplishing something similar and earning greatly – though theirs was tempered by the fact that they were buying out entire sectors such the dye market in Tyrosh, in competition with House Velaryon, and using that as a means to bolster the goods they traded – it was not hard to see that the likes of the Darklyns – and likely several other Houses like the Redwynes and the Hightowers – would wish to see to develop something similar for their Houses.

Even his own House was likely trying to find means to do the same though he doubted Corlys still had the hunger in him to see to the establishment of a Company. He also did not think Corlys would be able to give significant trust to anyone else except his own born of his flesh to make a success of a Company.

And whilst he doubted Corlys, Valerion was almost certain that none of the Darklyns or the other Houses would give him anything more than scraps for his labour and knowledge, if they even sought to heed his wisdom.

No, as it was, his House and his heirs were in a far better position thanks to his shares in the Companies and the lands that he owned, lands that could potentially grow in another five years if he played his cards right.

'I'm thinking like a merchant peddler…'

Valerion shook away those thoughts. Whilst he was no fool of a northerner disdaining merchantry, he knew the rule of coin. And the power it brought. He would have to only see what it could do in the example of Aegon, who had built an empire, firsts with coin then with arms, because of merchantry, and his cousin Corlys who had earned himself the hand of a Princess. With no smallfolk to farm lands for him at the ends of a sword, he would have to think of merchantry to ensure he and his heirs kept their influence amongst the nobility here.

Lest he and his branch of Velaryons be overshadowed by the new nobility he so disdained.

Gunthor narrowed his eyes at him before he leaned back in the pool.

"I am surprised you would say that." Gunthor said calmly before he continued, after a glance towards the doors to their private room in the bathhouse that Valerion saw, "You must know that the Kingdoms will not be pleased with what we have seen here." Gunthor said before he took on an entreating tone of voice.

"Whatever scant privileges you may hold may well disappear." No doubt he was referring to the pressures the King would be under to cease all trading with the 'heretical' Elamaerys, all but telling him that he was sent here to report on Elamaerys.

Whilst trading with Westeros was not significant, at least not compared to Lys, Liberty Bay and especially Yi-Ti, it was still a sizable chunk of the Northern Trading Company, which traded with the Narrow Sea Houses, Kings Landing and Dorne.

"You believe the King would go so far?" Valerion questioned directly, gauging what his thoughts on the matter was.

"He may not have a choice." Darklyn only stated and with the way the man's expression was, Valerion did not think he would say much else.

'I wonder why the Archon invited them all…' he mused to himself. The Archon surely would know that the nobles would not see magic and the new Faith in any good light. And he could only imagine how much worse it could have been had Princess Rhaenyra or Prince Baelon accepted the offer to attend the wedding.

'Perhaps that was why he invited them now. And perhaps that was why he was so focused on creating a strong army' Valerion thought cynically. The truth of the new faith and magic was going to be revealed in greater depth at one point or another and perhaps he decided now was better than later.

It wasn't the first time he thought this. Or those in his Household. That the thousands of boys being trained in the art of war, on land and on sea, the keeping of a standing army and city-guards of fifteen thousand, was done perhaps in anticipation with war with their homelands who would not take well with the new faith.

The only reason why he doubted it at all was because it was impractical.

For both sides. The other Westerosi were not able to make it to Elamaerys, at least not for another generation or two, not in significant numbers, even if they secured themselves a compass now and managed to trace the route to Elamaerys.

By then, it would probably be too late. Their numbers would surely rise to swell to much larger numbers…and so too may the dragons.

And he doubted Rhaenyra, or the Greens, were unawares of that.

Nor did he think they were unaware that antagonising the Archon was not a good idea for the sake of the Faith, who should not be entertained in the halls of power given what happened the last time they tried to involve themselves in matters of the Iron Throne.

"But you were to leave with me, take up your Lordship" Gunthor spread his arms "I would make sure that you would have all that you need to grow the merchant company in the likes of those here."

"And you would see to ensure I would have the coin – and men – I would need to see to this?" Valerion asked and Gunthor smiled before he nodded.

"Aye. You would have all that you need. Coin, men, ships. All of it." Gunthor turned seriously. "I am aware of the investment I must put in to see to the success. I am also aware of the difficulty we would be faced. I remember the tales your cousin, the Seasnake, had shared about his famous voyages, none of which were easy. I suspect it is similar to what captains of the merchant fleet would have. Captains you would lead." Gunthor leaned forward. "However I know you're no fool. I know that you know the ways Prince Aegon incorporated to make such success of his merchant fleets. Use that knowledge and build the greatest trading fleet with me Westeros has ever seen. Greater than that of your cousin the Seasnake." Gunthor leaned back.

"You'd be the greatest Velaryon." Gunthor said with confident finality and Valerion had to admit Gunthor had some skill in being convincing.

However Valerion was no fool. Ultimately, any success he made under Gunthor would belong to Gunthor. Any wealth he made would belong credit to Gunthor.

He would never own this trading company, this he was sure of.

And then there was another point. A third point beside the position of influence he held and the wealth that he'd secure for his line.

"I thank you, Lord Gunthor, for your offer but I must decline." Valerion finally said in answer.

This startled Gunthor and for a moment he saw anger pass across his face. "Why?"

'Such feeling of being affronted…when you're no more than a middling House.' Valerion thought amusedly to himself.

"The same reasons the likes of Lord Lucas and Lord Clarence must have rejected your offer for." Valerion stated and this time the anger stayed on the man's face.

"I see." There was a harsh coldness in the Lord's voice yet to Valerion, it may as well be a warm breeze.

The third point…

It was simple.

In less then five and ten years, a city had grown where there was nought but virgin land. In less than five and ten years, Aegon had grown an empire larger than any single Kingdom in Westeros, an empire that was growing in numbers every year that passed by the thousands, likely tens of thousands a year long before his beard grew grey. It may not have the numbers but the lands had all the fertility needed to reach the same numbers as that of the Reach in a few centuries.

And then there was the magic.

Magic had returned to the world, in full force, in Aegon and his line. Dragonlords.

It was not a title…but a statement. One that rang as true as the blueness of the skies. The magic and power of Old Valyria has been reborn and none of it, as far as he could tell, had the taint of Old Valyria.

Whilst he did not believe a word that Aegon and his line were divinely chosen by the Gods, Valerion had to admit that the Gods did favour Aegon and his line, even if he did not know if it was the Gods of Valyria or that of the Andals.

There was simply too much evidence that surrounded him each day that forced him to at least admit that.

That, combined with the magic and the growth of the empire, told him one thing…

That Elamaerys was going to become an empire in the mould of Old Valyria.

Though his ancestors had long since left Valyria for Driftmark, the pride their family held for being once of Old Valyria was not insignificant. For being the blood of Old Valyria. It was what distinguished them as greater than the Andals and the First Men, who, despite their long histories were not comparable.

And Valerion and his descendants were the amongst the first of noble lines that lived in a time that would remembered as wondrously as the Age of Heroes, with Aegon almost certainly becoming a figure of legend that, in the eyes of the Elamaeri, would be as grand, or grander, than Garth Greenhand, Brandon the Builder and Aegon the Conqueror.

Such a legacy was impossible to ignore.

If Elamaerys was to become as he thought it was.

And Valerion had no reason to think otherwise.

He could admit that Castorys was perhaps at least half as golden as his dragon and no father would be dissatisfied with the other sons if they were firstborns. That, combined with the Council of Dragonlords, the infighting that plagued House Targaryen, and was probably going to continue to plague the House of the Dragon, may never occur, just as it had not occurred in Old Valyria. At least not notably.

To give this legacy up…

No. Whilst Valerion was greatly dissatisfied by the nontraditional nobleness, he was not dissatisfied enough to take to a lordship that meant little, gave little, sworn to a House that was little. Velaryons do not swear to the likes of Darklyns.

And besides…

If he ever needed to leave Elamaerys, or was slighted by the Archon or his family…he was sure that he could get away with selling some critical information to the likes of the Redwynes, the Lannisters, the Hightowers and of course his cousin Corlys, all of whom would be able to pay the sum he would demand of them for the knowledge he held on the construction of the Galleons.

Valerion had learnt much over the past six or seven years since he'd decided, with his family, to leave for Elamaerys.

He'd seen enough of the ships on Velos and the Docklands to at least have a very good idea of how to construct them, something that he, without a doubt, would interest the four Houses.

If he had to go that route. It was unlikely, nor was he keen to earn a great enemy in Aegon and his sons for the betrayal, but the option was there and those rewards would go much farther than the rewards he'd see with Darklyn.

Darklyn stood up, pulling his aged and heavy naked body from the pool. "I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Valerion." Darklyn said with an incline of the head.

Valerion returned the gesture. "It was my pleasure, Lord Darklyn." Valerion only said before he watched Darklyn leave the room after taking robes from the stand and Valerion leaned his head back, his eyes closing as he stretched his arms across the top edge of the pool walls.

It was sometime later, after he'd fallen asleep, that he'd been woken up by the noise of the doors to the room opening.

He saw that it was Malentine that was coming his way, who looked at him curiously with a frown on his face.

"That look of yours." Valerion said before he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "That's the look of trouble. Trouble and troubled." Valerion said amused even as he kept his eyes closed.

"It's more a look of wondering what you could have said to anger Lord Darklyn so." Malentine said in wonder and Valerion snorted with a note of derision.

"I refused him to help him get as rich as he is fat. Like a pampered little lordling lathered in pig fat, he is unable to accept it." Valerion muttered.

Malentine laughed quietly. "Seems right." Malentine then hummed. "I suppose then that you will also not be convinced to return to Driftmark?"

Valerion opened his eyes in mild surprise before he looked towards Malentine who merely shrugged. "Cousin Corlys would welcome you back if you wanted to return."

Valerion shook his head. "Then he shouldn't have convinced me to depart." Corlys had all but told Valerion he was to leave for Elamaerys and Valerion, like the rest of their cousins, were unable to do much else but obey.

Valerion eyed Malentine intently. "I could ask you the same thing. Stay. Send for your sons. I am sure the Archon could be convinced to welcome you." Valerion smiled knowingly at Malentine. "You have seen he greatly values Valyrian blood, especially noble Valyrian blood."

The Lysene's presence at the wedding was proof enough of that. As was the likely outcomes of further marriages of Elamaeri nobility with the Lysene nobility. It would not surprise him if the Archon came to him to offer Lysene maidens for his sons…

"Of course" he continued. "That is if you can overlook the…heresies of the Archon." Valerion said amusedly to his cousin.

His cousin only snorted at that and Valerion's smile widened at that in amusement.

Malentine was amongst the more…adherent to the Merlin King, the God of the Seas. Whilst he did not advertise his faith to the ancient God, it was known that he kept to them. Few cared however, given how far down the line Malentine was from the Driftmark throne.

"I cannot. Whilst the idea does intrigue me, I cannot consider it. Nor would cousin Corlys would take it well." Malentine said in honest answer.

Valerion looked surprised at that and Malentine sighed.

"There's trouble brewing in the Narrow Sea. Pentos, Tyrosh, Myr…take your pick. The Braavosi are a large part of the problem with their ruthlessness in dismantling the positions of the nobility there, directly or indirectly, but the recent wars have weakened the cities severely. Corlys believes it will only be a matter of time before some new pirate king takes advantage of the chaos and allies with a coalition of nobles who want a return of their power."

"I have not heard of this." Valerion said with a heavy frown. By now, they'd have received some word about this from the Galleon captains who would have spoken with the captains of the merchant ships.

He did know that the Lysene were encountering troubles in the Disputed Lands, which might see a few thousand of their men sent to fight against Sellsword Companies, but nothing about these corsairs. At least not that side of Essos.

Malentine shrugged. "It is presently only a belief our cousin holds. It may pass. It may not pass." Malentine eyed him intently. "Yet in either case, our cousin wants me, and most of our able bodied kin, to help prepare to intervene should it threaten Velaryon interests."

Valerion considered that. It was certainly something Corlys would do.

During the war for the Stepstones, nearly all of the men of all the branches of House Velaryon had fought at sea and on the islands.

"I see." Valerion only said.

There was a long moment of silence before Malentine made moves to leave but before he did so he said one more thing. "I cannot fault you for choosing to remain but you should know that trouble may also be brewing and heading towards Elamaerys."

"I am aware. As is, I am sure, the Archon himself." Valerion said as he met the glance of his cousin.

Whilst the Archonate was an independent realm from Westeros, the situation was…entangled. Blood ties, ties of customs – though that was changing – and more, remained between the two realms. And he would not be surprised if the main line of House Targaryen used this as a means to exert influence…or worse a claim.

Malentine nodded before he left and Valerion sighed silently before he shook his head and stood up. 'I can use this.' He mused to himself. Informing the Archon of what was discussed, and left unsaid, would see him in the man's good graces.

'Perhaps more than that too.' Especially if he told the man about his own suspicions of what could come Elamaerys' way.

He doubted the nobles, and the men they'd brought with them, had remained idle and inattentive to the land…and to the resources available, in all of the time they'd been here.

After all…

One must know the enemy and its resources if one wanted to war with them.

-Break-

123 AC – Elamaerys, Royal Residences Training Yard

Castorys POV

"Begin!" The Master-At-Arms shouted and Castorys' grip on the blunted Valyrian Steel sword tightened as he stared at his father who stood opposite him, eying him with a stoic expression, his sword perpendicular to this body posture, and a moment after the call, Castorys rushed forward.

His father, in anticipation of Castorys, shifted his body posture to mirror Castorys and at the at last minute, Castorys changed the angle of his overhead strike to catch his father off.

The twang of their blades hitting rang around the training yard in a high chime, a chime that was soon replaced by the sounds of steel sliding against each other as his father, holding his blade with his two hands, swept Castorys' blade aside before he moved to slash at Castorys in a tight combinations, forcing Castorys to take steps back as he parried them away though Castorys opened himself a moment, the smallest of moments, that allowed him to shift from parrying to trading blows with his father.

And blows they traded.

They were both relentless in their strikes, mirroring each other's strikes whilst also sending strikes meant to stagger them off balance but neither were inexperienced, for they managed to recover almost a mere second after the off-balancing strike had come.

They circled around each other, blow for blow, and though Castorys' strikes were harder, faster, his father's strikes were more accurate, efficient, near flawless in execution, leaving Castorys' nearly no openings to significantly change the outcome of the battle.

His father wasn't the storm he remembered in his childhood.

The man who towered over his opponents and could rain rattling blows for hours without tiring. But where he lost that strength, he gained elsewhere.

The blows did not last for more than a minute, perhaps even shorter, but it felt as if they had been trading blows and parries for near half a day and yet Castorys could found no way to significantly find advantage in the battle, something he felt belonged to his father.

'Despite all of my training…despite being stronger than my father, he still has the advantage' Castorys thought to himself before he stepped sideways, dodging his father's strike, and in the moment as his father arced his blade towards Castorys, he stepped into his father, closing the distance between father and son.

The chime of the blades hitting was louder this time as their blades held fast against each other and Castorys swung forward his fist towards his father's helmeted face, who dodged the fist but could not dodge the elbow that had followed, striking his father against his neck.

The corners of Castorys' eyes tightened as he realised that the strike had done little to off-balance his father, who had shifted his feet and angled away his body, and Castorys grunted when he felt his father kick at his underside of his knee, forcing his body to buckle slightly.

Castorys pushed his body forward, intending to ram against his father but his father managed to twist his body away, his feet dancing across the dried mud of the training yard, and Castorys was forced to duck at the swivelled slash that'd come for his head though he was unable to prevent himself from falling prey to the kick that'd found purchase against his chest, sending him barrelling into the ground.

Castorys quickly rolled around, and got back to his feet, his sword rising to block any follow up strikes but all he saw was his father standing at the ready, eying him, where Castorys thought he could see a silent challenge issued in his sole eye.

Castorys growled angrily at his father, and got back to his feet, and after rolling his wrist, he grabbed hold of his bastard sword with both hands before he made his way towards his father in slow but determined steps.

"Use your talents, Castorys." The words from his father halted Castorys momentarily in his steps before Castorys narrowed his eyes and continued. 'Not yet…I will at least make you troubled before I do so.'

Castorys half-rushed forward, his first strike aimed at his father's mid-rift, which his father back stepped away from, before he twisted his wrist and arm to cut upwards, which his father parried away to the side and Castorys swung his body around to strike directly at his father's heart in a hard jab, which forced his father to angle his body away before he moved to strike at Castorys.

But Castorys was already moving, his jab pulled back and he pushed aside his father's strike before they once again settled into a trade of blows, and this time Castorys was striking even harder than before, each of his strikes forcing his father's parries to be lower than before as he absorbed away the force of the strikes.

His strikes came hard and fast, his blade sung in the warm air, the quick chimes of steel echoing around the training yard, left, right, up, down, angled and not, again and again, Castorys pressed the attack, yet his father kept on rising to the challenge, moving and sidestepping and parrying and returning blows with deadly concentration, until…

Until finally, he found an opening when his father's parry brought his sword low enough to create and opening and Castorys took advantage, and brought his blade to bear, which his father had only just about managed to block and Castorys did not let up, and drove his father back and back, their blades clashing hard, the chimes of steel sharper, an-

Castorys' eyes widened when he felt the parry of his father significantly weaker and he found himself leaning into his father, the force with which he'd hit carrying him forward, and he found himself unable to retract his blade in time whilst his father looped his blade around to bring inside and drove it towards him, towards his chest, and Castorys knew that it was a killing strike had it not been a blunted sword and Castorys was forced to do the only thing he could.

Castorys let go of his blade with his left hand and a red spark, a preceding momentary thing, formed in the middle of his palm before a burst of flame formed that cast them both in a haze of red and yellow before Castorys let it loose and sent it towards his father's face.

His father was forced to stop his attack and duck, the ball of flame flying over his head and Castorys did not let the moment pass, and continued to his attack whilst father remained unbalanced.

His blade moved, the sounds of it cutting through the air a sharp tune amidst the chimes of steel as their blades clashed under the flurry of his strikes, and Castorys began to mix flames in his attack, sending balls of flames to keep his father off-balanced.

His father sidestepped, dove away, gave up ground, again and again and Castorys pressed on the attack, his father's defences weakening in every moment that passed and Castorys could feel the momentum, the advantage shifting into his favour, and it was not long after his father made a mistake that would have proven fatal in the battlefield, his block against Castorys' overhead strike buckling, bending his arms more than it ought to, and Castorys, in that moment of weakness, drove his left hand forward, aflame with murderous fire, towards his father's face, only stopping an inch in front of his father's surprised face.

There was utter silence in the training yard and on the balconies, where they were being watched by their family, their guards and a few of the nobility, until Castorys spoke, his breathing heavy. "I win." He said before he brought low his hand, and the flames dying and Castorys wasn't surprised to see his father holding a faint smile on his sweating face.

"Good." His father said before he rolled his shoulders after Castorys had taken away his blade. "There are not many who are better at the sword." His father said to Castorys and Castorys could hear the hidden pride in his father's voice.

'And you sit amongst the top of those who are, father.' Castorys thought to himself. He was not blind to that fact. That he would not have won if he'd not used his talents, as his father stated.

He knew that his father had some…advantages, with his Sight that allowed him to see more despite the loss of sight that should have given his father more blind spots but it hurt his pride that for all of his martial skills, he wasn't able to overcome his father with just his skills.

His father brought his sword low to his side, his eye piercing into Castorys'. "However, you are still too hamstrung in using your talents. You depend too much on your sword skills." His father was not harsh in his tone of voice but there was clear disapproval in his words. "You are fighting with an arm behind your back. Forget notions of honour in battle, true battle. Forget pride. Forget everything but winning. Use your flames at all times. Never forget the first lessons I taught you."

'There is no honour or chivalry in battle and war, there is only survival and winning.'

Castorys nods sharply of the reiteration of the point he'd made when he'd returned from his 'tour of duty'. He knew what his father was speaking of…he'd lived it.

He'd spent two years out on sea, in the Summer Sea, the Ghiscari Straits and the Jade Gates, hunting corsairs and slaver ships, and had seen combat aboard enemy ships eight times in those two years.

He'd seen some of their men fall during battle, men that he could have saved if he'd thought to use his flames in those moments. His father had been critical of him then, telling him that he could have made more a difference if he had taken a more restrained position at the rear, supporting the boarding party rather than throw himself in the thick of things.

Castorys had thought that large part of his criticism was because of his fears for his safety despite the honor guard that had surrounded him at all times, and he still thought so, but Castorys had come to believe that his father's words rang with truth.

After all, his father had repeatedly used his abilities to lessen the deaths amongst their men through the campaigns in Liberty Bay, weakening defences and armies and at the same time weakening morales. Castorys looked at his hands. He knew that magic had a potent effect against enemies. He could see it even amongst their own men.

And if they forced to intervene in Westeros, as his father believed based on the little information they were getting from the reports of their spies in Kings Landing and Oldtown, he would need to be able to master using magic in combat, if only to lessened the disparity in armies.

"I understand…I will work it all in my training."

His father relented in his commanded look and he came forth. "Good." His father's expression took on a teasing quality. "Then you shall become unstoppable on a field of battle. Our own Kratos." Castorys chuckled at that.

He enjoyed those stories about Kratos, even though he'd been near a man by the time his father had written that storybook. The god-slayer.

Admittedly, Castorys had dreamed about becoming just like him, especially considering the revelations of the dark gods that existed in their world, which Castorys thought had been the inspiration of the character.

Castorys really liked the sounds of that…god-slayer.

"Especially" His father said, his expression losing all humour as it dramatically shifted, and Castorys was startled at the coldness in his father's eye. "once you master your abilities." Castorys flinched slightly when blinding lights flashed in the periphery of his eyeline and Castorys turned to look towards the source of it.

Castorys' eyes widened when he saw the dozens of straw dummies set aflame with white-hot flames, flames that consumed the straw dummies in startling speed.

Castorys heard the murmurs from atop the balcony and he looked towards it, and he saw a number of the guards look awed at the sudden display of magic…and he also saw Lord Eldric and Lord Bartimos, who were beside Ser Alton Celtigar and Count Aethan, look somewhat wary at the sight of the burning dummies whilst his wife, and his youngest brother, looked on with a look that said nothing was amiss.

"There is much more to your abilities. Especially in battle. You only have to experiment it." His father said and Castorys turned to look at him, really look at his father. The expression on his face was as hard as stone, but it was in his eye that told Castorys everything he needed to know.

'It won't be long before father opens my third eye…' Castorys considered and he knew that his father expected to grow his abilities to the same degree.

And do so soon.

Castorys nodded lightly and as the look on his father relented, he sensed the flames wither and die in the same instance, once more showing him how far his father's control over his abilities had reached.

His father looked passed him and Castorys followed his father's gaze, which had been directed towards Ser Lomaerys and Castorys understood.

"Shall I come by the Academy once I'm done with the ships?" Castorys asked, drawing his father's attention.

"No." His father said after a few moments. "I will be finished long before you return I suspect." His father said and Castorys nodded and after father tapped him on the shoulder and handed him his blunted Valyrian Steel sword, father made his way towards the other exit to the training yard to leave.

Castorys sighed heavily before he walked towards one of the royal guards. "Your Grace." The royal guard said with a bow of the head before asking "The armoury?"

"Aye." Castorys said with a nod. The blunted Valyrian Steel swords were kept in the armoury with the Valyrian Steel swords they actively trained with, which consisted of four swords, one of each for the males of their family.

Whilst Breannei had taken to some training, far further than Rhaena had, she did not care enough for it to warrant a sword of her own.

The rest of the Valyrian Steel, weapons and armour forged from a large chunk of the Valyrian trinkets, were in the Vaults deep below with the mountains of gold and silver…

"You made too many mistakes." The loud, familiar – and irritating – voice of his youngest brother rang from behind him and Castorys turned around, an unimpressed look on his face, something that contrasted greatly with the teasing grin that was Solonys' face.

His little brother loved to needle at someone, though generally he did it on matters that did little harm…

"In all truth, however" His brother's grin dropped a little, and something more alike to being impressed passed across his face. "You did well. If you keep that speed in full plate armour, light as Valyrian Steel may be, there won't be many that can stand against you." Solonys admitted to him with no small amount of envy though Castorys could tell there was no malice in it.

Out of all of their brothers, Solonys was the one who shared the most with him with regards to a drive towards martial excellence.

Castorys smiled a little. "You're further ahead than I was at your age." That too was no lie. Solonys' training has been far more intense than his own had been, which had largely been haphazard given his duties to the settlement, at least at the start.

With the Unsullied trainers at the Academy, and Ser Lomaerys and Lord Maerro who trained the boys, the former with swords and the latter horseback, Solonys' generation should see some of the best fighters Elamaerys had yet seen.

"Of course I am." And there was, that smugness…

"Shouldn't you be off by now?" Castorys said exasperated as he looked past Castorys, towards his wife who was bringing Lord Eldric and Lord Bartimos over.

"There's only one lesson today. Tactics with Lord Maerro after noon." Solonys shrugged before he eyed Castorys as he spoke. "You can always help me fill in the morn?" There was some excitement in his voice as he asked.

Castorys shook his head. "I have some matters to attend to. Perhaps this eve."

Solonys sighed before he glanced towards Breannei and the escorted Lords. "Fine." Solonys said before he began to walk away, gesturing his farewells to him and Breannei, and Castorys saw an amused smile dancing on his wife's face, one that soon fled into a warmer smile.

"Breannei." Castorys said with warmness in his tone of voice though he lost it as he addressed two men behind her, men who were eying him differently now.

"Lord Bartimos. Lord Eldric." Castorys acknowledged.

Father had invited them to stay at the Royal Residences, which, since its expansion could host a great deal many more people.

Although, the invitation had only been extended to Ser Laenor and these men and their families, the rest having been giving lodgings at the Estates, most of them residing with their kin, with their guards and servants given lodgings nearby.

With the reasons why father had invited them in the first place, he could understand it…reasons that have been validated over the course of the past few weeks…

"You remind me much of your father." Lord Bartimos said in Common whilst there was praise in his voice and there was some caution in there that was new.

'Was that display enough to worry them…?' Castorys mused to himself. Previously, the two men, and Ser Laenor too, had been quite warm with him, often regaling him tales of his father when he'd been younger, and when they'd met him as an infant.

The things they'd seen since or heard they'd been here had done little to change that.

Now though, he thought as he eyed towards Lord Eldric, who also had some caution in him, it was as if they were truly seeing him.

'Was that why father asked me for a bout?' Castorys thought to himself.

He did not think it was a coincidence, to ask Castorys for a bout of duel in their presence. He wanted them to see. He wasn't entirely sure why yet however.

He knew that father valued them both, and saw them as true friends in the same mould as Maerro, Trytas, Uthrik, Galaenys and Edwyn, so it could be that father merely wanted to show off, but he doubted that.

Father did few things without ulterior motives behind them.

In almost all certainty, there was other reasons why he wanted them to see…to know their abilities. He did not think it was for the purpose to let leak to the nobility of Westeros, otherwise he'd have invited the other outsiders to their home…

He'd have to think about it before he'd asked his father…

"Bartimos speaks true. You have his build and strength though you might be somewhat faster." Lord Eldric added.

"My father was quite a bit younger than myself when he left. I could not say if I am faster when he'd been at the same age." Castorys answered, the words said with some difficulty, as unused as he was in speaking Common after years of disuse.

"Ser Jon?" His wife turned towards one of the senior royal guards, the steadfast Ser Jon. "What do you think?" Castorys withheld a look of amusement at the question and the look of surprise that was Ser Jon's face.

It was unfair of his wife to ask Ser Jon in the presence of these men, to compare him with his father in the presence of outsiders, and Breannei knew it.

"It has been some time, Your Grace, since those days." Ser Jon said with much easier use of Common, his head dipped. "I can only say that it is comparable." Ser Jon said, not taking the bait.

"Well" Lord Eldric said, interjecting, "I would place good money on you if you did compete at a royal tourney" the man said laughing, and Castorys smiled faintly at that.

"Have you fought in many tourneys?" Breannei asked the two men, and it sparked off a while of conversation, speaking of tourneys and the 'worthy' knights they'd faced which moved to stances and combat styles and arms, before the conversation was exhausted and parted, with Ser Jon escorting them towards wherever they wanted to go in the time their father was away on duty, leaving him behind with his wife.

"If you wanted to steer the conversation away, you could have done it in another way." Castorys remarked with a raised eyebrow as they walked towards the dragon stables through their residence, walking past guards and servants.

"I was truly curious." Breannei said defensively but the glint in her eyes told him otherwise and he gave her look that broke her façade.

"Ser Jon knew what to say." Breannei said with a shrug. "They all do in front of the outsiders." Breannei said in answer and Castorys hummed at that.

It was true.

Whilst none of them told the servants and the guards, and even the wider public, to be on guard with the outsiders, they were. And when word spread about the dislike the outsiders from Westeros had for their Faith, along with a few more bad interactions, they were even more on guard.

It didn't help of course that some of the guards and servants that'd come with the Lords and nobility had been seen trying to get into the shops and factories where they had no business in being.

"Will you be joining father after you've been to the Docklands?" Breannei asked as they continued to walk through their home towards the dragon stables.

Castorys took a moment to think before he shook his head. "No." He eyed Breannei for a moment. "Do you wish me to help with the loads?"

"If you could." Breannei said with a smile before she frowned. "I rather not deal with an irritable Leysia." Castorys' eyebrows twitched a little at that.

Leysia was not a dragon with the easiest temperament. Not as bad as Shrykos, but at least Shrykos could be coerced without much complaint into hauling heavy containers filled with stone rather easily.

Leysia on the other hand…if it were not for the deep bond he knew Breannei and Leysia had, the dragon would be much more disagreeable.

Whilst their dragons obeyed, they still had their own…personalities. And Leysia's was one that much preferred to fly for hours than to haul anything.

"I will try and wrap up soon." Castorys finally agreed.

"Good. We can go hunting afterwards." Breannei said with an excitable smile, one that Castorys couldn't help but smile noddingly. Whilst the livestock they now had on Elamaerys had grown significantly over the past seven years, it was not nearly enough to sustain their dragons, so they still had to fly their dragons and hunt whales, dolphins, sharks and large fishes.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the courtyard that led to the dragon stables, which could be seen looming over the courtyard and much of the rest of the Royal Residences, with its fused stone dome.

After father had worked out how to create fused stone four years ago, the final works of renovating their manse had taken course. With the manse been just over a league from the city square, there was much space in the surrounding land that was unoccupied, allowing undisturbed expansion of their manse into what was more or less a palace.

And with father present with Mīsaragorn, along with Polaerys – he and Valarr had left for their 'tour of duty' four years ago and had only contributed a little at the beginning – and the many men that were available for labour, the amount of stone that could be quarried and brought back had been great, allowing them to divert some labour without impacting the construction of the rest of the city.

And the end result had been a palace made of marble and granite, that stood over one and ten thousand square yards in size, discounting the stables, with some parts left unfinished until after the dragon stables had been finished, a works that'd taken more eight moons for his father to finish, with the final parts – the homes of the servants, guards and the dragonkeepers – built along the sides of the domed dragonstables.

The walls around their Residence, which were wide enough to walk on and connected to the guard stations, wouldn't be finished to its current state, which was also made of fused stone twenty feet in height until two years later, where most of their family learnt how to use their dragons, some better than others, to dig to their instructions. And after those two years, father spend most of his free time working on creating the dragon stables at the yet-still-unnamed Keep with Polaerys…

They arrived at the guarded gates of the dragonstables, guarded by two Unsullied who bowed their heads after they'd opened it as they'd arrived, and they walked passed them, the smell of the dragons growing stronger as they had neared.

The darkness of the dragonstables was only chased away by the lights of the oil lamps at the front of the dragon stables, and the oil lamps held by the dragon keepers, with the exit gates closed at the other end.

The dragons much preferred the darkness than they did the light, almost certainly because they could doze off much easier…

Nearly instantly as they walked in, did some of the dragon keepers come towards them.

As the men neared, the considerably shorter man than the others was the one walking slightly ahead of them, and Castorys recognised the man easily.

"Your Graces." The middle-aged man Ychos said with a respectful bow of the head which was followed by the other two young men, one of whom was of Naathi origin. Ychos was the most senior men of the dragon keepers, and whose father had led the training of the majority of the dragon keepers. With the man's death six years ago, Ychos had stepped into his father's role, and trained the newest recruits.

"Are you here to take out your dragons?" the man asked.

"Only me." Breannei said with a light smile before she turned towards Castorys and stepped up to him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I will see you later." Breannei said with a teasing smile, one that made Castorys smile as he watched her leave with one of the dragon keepers.

"I will shortly leave." Castorys said after the inquiring looks from the dragon keepers, who nodded their understanding as he left them towards Gaelithox, whose stable was nestled in between two stables on either side.

He walked past the first stable, where Liāzmariña lay, and who eyed him through an half-opened eye. Each of the stables were just about large enough to fit Liāzmariña, with the larger dragons intended to be housed at their future Keep.

Father had explained that these stables were only intended to be used by the younger dragons, who were also going almost certainly be the younger members of their family, and thus have more reason to be near by the Academies.

The larger dragons were going to remain the stables at their future Keep, as far as his father could see, where they, at least the bonded dragons, would have more free access to leave and fly with how his father created the exit and take-off area.

Though Castorys also thought that the reason behind it was partly to ensure their largest dragons remained firmer under their control at the Keep, which, other than the second family Keep at Draconys, was meant to be their bastion.

Castorys walked past the empty stable where Shrykos typically remained, before he reached his dragon's stable, whose eyes were wide open. A low growl escaped the maw of Gaelithox, his body moving slightly forward, and Castorys smiled widely at the sight of his beautiful dragon despite having seen him yesterday.

"Come, Gaelithox." Castorys said as he stretched out his hand and Gaelithox moved forward, his head rising and then falling until his snout met his hand and Castorys brought up his second arm which he used to scratch a particular spot under Gaelithox's chin and his dragon let off a half growl, half purr at the act.

"We'll fly later today…to hunt." And the half growl became a low growl, and Castorys could feel the satisfaction from his dragon. One thing all of the dragons had in common, as far as he and his siblings were concerned, was that their dragons loved to hunt with them.

Probably because none of them could feel anything other than total excitement as the dragons dove towards the sea and caught prey with their claws…

Light poured in and Castorys looked towards it, and saw the gates that lead to the walled field outside open ever more and Castorys sighed slightly before he turned back towards his dragon. "I will be back soon." Castorys promised as he patted his dragon's snout and after spending a bit more time with Gaelithox, did he finally leave.

A little while later…

Castorys rode towards the Stally Docklands atop of his brown steed, where he could see over a dozen Galleons and the few new Corinthian Carracks moored at the wharf.

It wasn't much longer before he'd and his guards arrived at the Docklands, and, after unhorsing himself, he made his way towards the entrance where, just beyond, he could see piles of wooden boxes that contained all sorts of goods and supplies.

Castorys sent his gaze towards further inland, where he could see the Greater Royal Shipyard, which had a ring of water around it, large enough for a Galleon to be towed on, with a large square area of water surrounded by land.

Thousands of labourers had dug a channel in an area that was below the water level of the river, flooding the area, before it was dammed off. Then he and his siblings had boiled off the water trapped in the area before the labourers built up earth on specific areas around fifty feet tall at differing thicknesses depending on the design of the Shipyard, after which wooden piles had been driven into those areas, tightly, before they were built upon with wooden structures before sweeping the areas with granite gravel preceding the laying of concrete on top of it.

After that the dam was destroyed, flooding the area once more, creating a bowl like shape, or at least the beginning of it once the buildings were finished, resembling much of father's design, although no ships would be built in segments, instead would allow half a dozen ships to be built at the same time, or to different stages…

It wasn't long before men approached, who seemed to be at a quick pace.

As they neared, Castorys could see that it was a few of the guards along with the workers. Normally there wouldn't be guards posted but with the outsiders, it was necessary. "Your Grace." The men said as they bowed their heads and Castorys made a gesture for them to stand tall.

"Have no worry. I'm only here to see how we're progressing and if there must be anything that needs to be done to make sure we leave on time."

He'd already sent word before of his pending arrival this day.

"I see, Your Grace. Well…" one of the men named Lorys, one of the senior shipbuilders working at the docks, began to explain what the situation was.

More or less the supplies provisioned for this shipment for the settlement were on board or scheduled to be on board over the next few days.

Most of the supplies were practical. Practical supplies like ropes, hammers, nails, medicinal plants, cloth and clothes, and so on, which were items that took time to portion away for the purpose of Gaelysia.

Most of the necessities, such as many tonnes of foodstuffs, which consisted almost completely of grain and imported rice that'd been purchased over several years and stored at Velos, and tonnes of precut stones and wooden planks, had already been delivered to Draconys, where there were already a few buildings standing.

The labourers that were coming with them had also worked to build a few hundred homes, most of whom had years of experience of building on Elamaerys.

Castorys continued to speak with the men for some time, and though it was not necessary for him to be physically present, he'd taken his father's approach in dealing with people…giving matters a 'personal touch'.

He took stock of where things were, and he spoke with the captains too. For most, the trip to Draconys was still new, with most of the captains and second officers only having been on the route to the Targaryen Islands, the Summer Isles, Velos or Astapor.

Only two of the captains and their crews, had deep familiarity of the waters around them, having been used to chart the waters surrounding them.

Half of the Galleons, and the rest of the Carracks that'd been built on Elamaerys, would be assigned permanently to Elamaerys and the islands, ferrying people and goods from one place to another.

The ships would also be ferrying the 'expeditionary cartographers' across all of the isles that surrounded Elamaerys and Draconys, especially the Biareysian Islands and Bazmionys, which they only had limited information about, now that they had men spare to send to the northern islands after most of the northwestern and southwestern halves of Elamaerys were largely mapped out.

And with Valarr often out flying for days on end in the south, they'd sooner rather than later will also gain the same understanding…at least in terms of locations, land marks and constituencies of the lands.

Castorys continued to speak with the men and the captains for some time yet, despite long having concluding there were no issues or causes of delay, before he left, making his way back towards Elamaerys, which he gazed upon with a long, considering look.

'It won't be long now…'

Father's assignment of Gaelysia to him was as much a gift as it was a necessity.

Elamaerys was a huge land, a land that would take centuries to form villages, towns and cities, even at the accelerated rates of migration that they were likely going to accept, and that meant that the other Isles could go a long time without having much of a presence of their people….which would be a shame.

Especially with how well suited they were…especially the Biareysian Islands and of course Draconys. The warmer weather and plenty supply of water would make these lands great places to grow spices, fruits and more.

Of course, Castorys though to himself, there was also the naval advantages of having more ports and shipyards in the nearly closed out sea, closing a major threat that could come up the river to the capital, which was another reason why father, which Castorys agreed with, thought necessary to start building on Draconys.

The dangers of their kin in Westeros, whilst negligible, even at the onset of their Andal vassals growing disliking of his family, couldn't be guaranteed to always turn inward…

Silently Castorys was rather relieved that their teeth were aimed at their own necks instead towards Elamaerys. It was rather fortunate, truly, that father's elder brother was uncle Viserys, who sought peace above and beyond most others…which was not what his grandsire Jaehaerys would have likely done…or most other Targaryens, from what he could understand from parents.

And in terms of gift…

The opportunity to administrate completely alone with Breannei, with the help of a few administrators, was a golden opportunity for him to improve his ruling and his management of a new settlement.

'And one day, I shall do the same with mine own sons…' Castorys thought to himself, a small smile forming on his face as he thought about the endless opportunities that would arise, something he doubted would stop for many generations to come.

Aye…

There will be many Targaryens who shall do what his father did…and what he will do.

Build.

-Break-

Mid to Late 123 AC – Kings Landing

Aegon Targaryen, Son of Viserys I POV

Aegon's body tightened, his hand gripping tightly on the sheets as he grunted, a feeling of pleasure rifling through him as he unloaded himself into the whore's cunt.

"Ahh…" Aegon breathed out as he threw himself onto the side of the bed, a well pleased look on his face. Gods, he loved fucking when drunk. He could always last twice as long then, and enjoy the warmness of tight cunts around his cock.

"I am pleased I pleased you, my Prince." The dainty voice of the whore beside him said, and he felt her finger circle around his nipple and he shivered in delight at the touch, making him look towards her.

She was brown haired, a chestnut colour, with green eyes. Her face was slender with high cheekbones that framed her face lovely. A beautiful girl. A familiar girl though why she was familiar, he could not tell. All he knew was that he wanted her more than the others.

Though he wanted her no more now that he's fucked out, and Aegon grunted as he forced away her hand from his nipple.

"Disturb me no more." Aegon muttered as he closed his eyes.

He'd sleep off his drunkenness here before he left in the morn. His mother knew where he was through his guards outside at the door and he'd rather deal with her in the morning, when his head was pounding too hard for him to hear a word she says.

"What does it feel like?"

"What did I tell you, whore?" Aegon opened his eyes, his head turning towards her with some anger in his eyes. "Fuck off and come back in the morning."

She seemed unfazed by his anger and continued to speak. "To ride your dragon?" Aegon was momentarily surprised before he laughed haltingly, almost descending in a childish giggle.

"Does it?" Aegon said with highly amused mocking in his tone of voice. "Feel like freedom?" Aegon said as he looked towards her cunt before he met her gaze again.

She smiles coyly at him. "Not that dragon. I speak of your dragon. The great Dreamfyre. How does it feel to rise above the clouds…to see the world like few other but your kind have seen it for hundreds of years."

Aegon pauses at that, eying her curiously with no small amount of confusion. This was new. Aegon found himself losing his tiredness.

"You speak eloquently for a whore." Aegon stated amusedly, his head fully turning to face her. "You can put your mouth to better use if you have wish to exercise it."

"There'll be time for that later." The whore says before her hands slowly makes it way down towards his cock. "After a while longer."

"No. Now. Suck it." Aegon said as he stares at her long and hard and he watches her eyes widen slightly and he thought he could see a bit of fear in them before they made way for teasing as a sly smirk made its way on her face.

"I will…and will do more if you tell me what it is like." The whore said, the last word said with a lilt of song in it as she leans forward and licks his ear, something that causes his cock to jump.

"…what more?" Aegon asks, surprised as he is by the arousal.

She leans away and smirks at him and Aegon snorted at the look before he forced her hand away from his cock. "I could have you whipped for denying your Prince."

There was no heat in his voice, and no anger, and that surprised more than her playful defiance of him.

"You could." The whore agreed yet the smirk remained on her face and Aegon truly wonders why he hasn't gotten angry at the whore for her disrespect.

He'd gotten angry for less. Much less.

Usually because Aemond was being a surly prick or his mother a…

"Why do you even want to know?" Aegon asks, unsure as he was why he was even asking.

This makes the whore pause for a moment. "I have only seen the dragons up high, when they pass over the city but I have always wondered…how does it feel? To fly amongst dragons and birds, to be able to go everywhere you wished…"

Aegon stared at her for a long, watching her look away into the distance and he broke himself out of the haze, the drunken haze and he found himself speaking without knowing why.

"It feels amazing." Aegon says and he sees her look at him with a look of surprise.

Aegon continues. "Flying with Dreamfyre…there is nothing better than it." More than the act of flying itself, it was flying with Dreamfyre that he was speaking of.

None understood him like Dreamfyre did. None made him happy like Dreamfyre did. Without her, Aegon did not think he'd enjoy flying half as much.

Aegon looked at her with a mocking leer. "I suspect it is as good as when you ride on my cock."

She laughs and it wasn't a mocking laugh, but a laugh that seemed genuine despite his words, despite his acts and it leaves him feeling confused…again.

"I wouldn't know, I have only ridden your dragon." There was teasing in her voice. Not the kind he did with Aemond, or Heleana, but a teasing nonetheless.

"If you want, I could introduce you to my Dreamfyre." Aegon suggests, and he finds himself enjoying catching her in a surprise, and he pounces further on it.

"I have never seen her eat a human. I wonder if she'd taste my seed once she chews on your flesh." Aegon said, cruelness seeping into his words though he meant very little of it as he watched her react.

She stopped for a moment but before he could even react to that slight pause, she took on a considering look as she spoke. "Do dragons have that much of a sensitive tongue? Is that why they burn their food?"

"What?" Aegon said, taken aback, though it did not last as he looked at her as if she was a fool. "No, you…no. That is not the reason they burn their food." Aegon said annoyed before he moved to stand up though her words stopped him from moving.

"If you had the choice…would you want to fly away…never to come back?" The words were said quietly, softly, and Aegon turned to look at her and again he saw that she was genuinely curious about his answer.

Somehow, he found himself speaking. "Why are you asking this?" Aegon caught himself and added "Instead of sucking my cock?" he posed with a smirk that he felt didn't look right on his face, despite his attempts.

"Because I think you like someone wanting to hear what you think. What you really think." The whore said and he stiffened at those words, though as she began to crawl towards him, he found himself staring at her arse as she neared. She stood on her knees, their faces now at the same height, and she leaned towards the side of his face and whispered "What you really want. Tell me, Prince Aegon, have you thought about flying away…?"

He could feel her breathe on his ear and then he felt her hand on his cock.

"Sometimes" Aegon said with a shudder in his voice as she worked his cock, kisses trailing down from his ear, to his neck.

He'd often thought about it. To leave with Dreamfyre and never return. Away from his father who never cared for him. Away from his sister, who hated him and would rather see him dead. Away from his mother, who wanted him to take something that his father had no wish for him to have, that Aegon had no wish to take.

"Why haven't you…Prince Aegon?" the whore whispered and Aegon shuddered before her lips sucked on his nipple. "Why haven't you gone where no one has been before…seen what no one has before…lands mysterious…"

'You're always welcome in my family on Elamaerys, mini-me. You and Dreamfyre. The offer is for you and anyone else you wish to bring, whenever you want. Promise me you will remember this. This is for you and only you.' The words of his uncle haunted his mind, and Aegon snapped out of his thoughts, snapping away from thoughts he couldn't forget and he wrapped his hand around her neck.

"Enough." Aegon growled and her panicked face caused something inside of him to roar its ugly head but Aegon silenced it, killed it, and he pushed her away on the bed. "You've spoken too much for a whore…and whores are only good for fucking." Aegon said before he perched himself on top of her, his hand going towards his cock.

"Why dream of dragons when there is one here right in front of you?" Aegon said before he pushed himself in her, and he let a delighted smile form on his face, even though he felt nothing of that delight within him.

The next morn…

Aegon barely recalled the steps he took back to the Red Keep, his body moving on its own towards his bed, and not long after he arrived at his royal apartment, separate from that of Helaena and their twins, before he could fall upon his bed and sleep the day away, the doors to his apartment opened, and his harsh words died on his tongue when he saw who it was, and he only let off a groan at the sight of her.

"Where have you been?" His mother demanded as she rushed towards him with that same angry of hers that she showed only in private whenever they were alone.

Aegon scoffed. "You know where I've been." Aegon said with a roll of his eyes and he moved passed her, towards his bed but he felt his mother grab hold of his arm and he was pulled towards her, and before he knew it, he was grabbing hold of his face after his mother had stricken him.

"You fool boy." His mother said with bitter harshness in her voice, and Aegon looked away from her angry green eyes.

"For all that I do for you, you keep doing…"

Aegon clenched his fists but he did not look up at her.

His mother sighed long-sufferingly before she spoke.

"A bath has been drawn for you and you will take it. You reek and it is unbefitting of you." His mother said, firmness in her voice. "You shall wear the green garments that shall be lain for you to wear before we depart at noon."

Aegon blinked. "Depart? Where?" Aegon asked confused and Alicent looked at him as if he one of Helaena's bugs.

"To Driftmark. Lady Laena lost one of her twins and your father, despite my protests that he was too ill to travel, has decided to take all of us to Driftmark to offer our condolences."

"Why?" Aegon asked baffled. What made Laena Velaryon special? Many women lost children on the woman's bed.

"Because your sister is going and your father decided it should be all of you too." His mother said and Aegon snorted. Of course that was the reason.

"Now go." His mother almost hissed as she pulled at him, towards the direction of the door and Aegon, despite his urges to tell her to fuck off, did as ordered…

…as he always did.

And he hated himself for it.