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High Tide, Chapter 64: Dragonless
🕑 Added 2024-04-15 18:33:56 +0000 UTCSeventh Moon, 126 AC
The Dragonless
“Dracarys!” his great uncle the King commanded. Caraxes the Blood-Wyrm obeyed. His crimson flames consumed his great-grandfather’s body relentlessly, burning until nothing was left of him.
It was sad Corlys supposed but he didn’t feel that strongly about it. He had never really been that close to his great-grandfather, nor had any of his siblings or cousins, even if the younger ones were crying. Funerals were generally sad events and the mood had gotten to them.
His great-grandmother Alyssa was in tears as well, as was his mother and aunts Rhaena and Helaena. The rest of the family had saddened expressions, including Great Uncle Aemon, Grand Uncle Viserys, and Uncle Jaehaerys, Aunts Jocelyn and Rhaenyra, and his grandparents on his mother’s side, Grandfather Daemon and Grandmother Gael.
His grandparents on his father’s side however, Grandfather Corlys, his namesake and Grandmother Viserra were stone-faced and grim. As was his father and his father’s siblings, his uncles Lucerys and Daeron and his aunt Laena. They looked less… sad and almost worried somehow.
Corlys didn’t really understand why. Perhaps it was the nature of his great-grandfather’s death? A burst belly was one of those things that could happen to anyone he supposed, even those with the Blood of the Dragon. It was near impossible to predict or treat, even with the strides their universities in the Triarchy had made to advance the field of medicine.
When the funeral had concluded, Corlys made sure to count all of his younger siblings and cousins and account for all of them as they made the trip back to Maegor’s Holdfast. It was a habit he had picked up over the years, applying the lessons he had learned from his parents. As the eldest it was his responsibility to help look after the younger ones. His job was thankfully made easier since the distance they were moving wasn’t very far.
While his other great-grandfather Jaehaerys had been a King and so meriting of a grand procession and a funeral in the Dragonpit, Great-Grandfather Baelon had been only a second son, a Prince and never anything more. By the time he died he had been relegated to 13th in the line of succession. Few nobles would travel a long distance for the funeral of such a man, even though the realm of Westeros as a whole would mourn the passing of Baelon the Brave.
As such, even though he had been the King’s brother and Hand, his funeral was always going to be much less grand and more intimate. It had been hosted in the courtyard of the Red Keep mostly for family and friends though the courtiers already present at court had paid their respects as well.
Still some absences were noted and obvious even to Corlys. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he whispered a question to his cousin Aemond as they walked to the Great Hall for the feast that was being held in honor and commemoration of their shared great-grandfather’s life.
“Where’s your father and grandmother if you don’t mind my asking Aemond?” Corlys asked. The absence of Aunt Rhaenys and Uncle Aegon was quite puzzling to him, especially since Uncle Viserys had made the flight home to attend the funeral, though he had only arrived yesterday.
“They’re still in the Summer Islands. The campaign in Jhala was ongoing when word of Great-Grandfather’s death reached them. They decided they couldn’t leave their troops at such a delicate time and passed their condolences and regards through Grandfather.”
Corlys nodded and made no further attempt to pry. The Velaryon side of his family had a lot of things to say about Uncle Aegon and Aunt Rhaenys, none of them good, and his relationship with Aemond was not strong enough for them to weather a serious argument if they got into one because of it.
The connection between them was… complex to say the least. Though they were first cousins on their mothers’ side, their fathers utterly despised each other. Family gatherings at Grandfather Daemon and Grandmother Gael’s home in Summerhall had always been awkward because of it. And that was just one part of the difficult relations between their houses which went back decades and had a lot of insults, slights, and miscommunications on both sides. Even at ten, both of them were familiar with this, it was hard not to be, even if his younger brother Daemon seemed to not notice it.
Perhaps it was because of his name but his younger brother had so far been pretty sheltered from the tense relations in the family due to how much Grandfather Daemon and Grandmother Gael doted on him and forced the more unpleasant members of House Targaryen to treat him well. He was rather painfully oblivious at times if he was being honest, asking awkward questions about why their parents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles were all staring daggers at each other. Hopefully he would grow out of it.
For the rest of them, the tensions between their grandparents, parents, and houses had made forming friendships difficult. Corlys’ mother had encouraged him to befriend his Targaryen cousins and he had a feeling Aunt Helaena had done the same for Aemond. However, his father and paternal grandparents had also taught him to be on guard and wary of his Targaryen cousins, cordial but keeping them at a distance. Seven only knew what drivel Uncle Aegon had filled Aemond and his siblings’ heads with.
They were just too different. To Corlys and the other Velaryons, their Targaryen cousins thought and spoke in a different way than they did. For all that they claimed to be Valyrians, the Targaryens were Westerosi ultimately while they were proud citizens of the Triarchy. There was a different culture, a different way of doing everything, and most of the younger ones hadn’t realized it yet, but there were also feelings of competition and rivalry. Feelings that they had subconsciously picked up watching their parents and grandparents’ interactions with each other.
The end result was a strange acquaintanceship. Friends of a sort but not truly. Corlys would choose his siblings and his Velaryon cousins over Aemond in a heartbeat and he knew that he would do the same with his own siblings and Targaryen cousins, but in the small niche that mutual understanding had carved out, a unique bond had developed.
Because for all the tensions and strained relationships in their family, there was something Corlys and Aemond both understood that no one else did. They were both dragonless. The eggs that had been laid in their cradles had not hatched like they had for all of their siblings and cousins, for their parents and aunts and uncles and practically every other member of the family save for some of the younger ones whose eggs hadn’t had time to hatch.
Sure, his namesake grandfather and great-grandmother were technically dragonless as well, but they didn’t understand how it felt. Not really. His grandfather wasn’t expected to have a dragon at all and his great-grandmother had ridden the Black Dread himself before he had passed away of old age. Both acceptable reasons to be dragonless. And they were both old, wise, and respected elders of their houses. Corlys and Aemond were none of those things.
Corlys and Aemond were the ten-year-old heirs of their houses. One day they would be the Heads of House Velaryon and House Targaryen respectively, responsible for leading and safekeeping all the family members under their charge. And they were dragonless. How could they be expected to lead a house of dragonlords with no dragon to enforce their will or lead their brethren in battle and protect them? What did it say of their character and their blood if they had no dragons of their own when all of their kin did?
These doubts had weighed on both of their minds for many years, and for all that they were distant from each other or in most other matters, that kinship had drawn Corlys and his cousin Aemond together in a strange but unique and cordial relationship, born from a mutual understanding and respect of what it truly meant to be dragonless.
Aemond was the only one who understood how jealous you could feel seeing all your siblings and cousins take to the skies upon their dragons and leave you behind. He was the only one who understood how it made you feel so worthless, wondering what was so lacking about you compared to everyone else? He was the only one who knew that it was more than just jealousy but a ceaseless worrying and insecurity in their ability to lead and protect their families.
As the heirs of their houses, responsibility over their brethren and their safety was their charge. It had been instilled and ingrained into both of them since they had been old enough to walk. How could you be responsible for the safety and actions of your brethren when they flew away on dragons and left you behind?
Even on the occasions Corlys had ridden in the saddle with another rider, it had never felt right. It had felt like he was being carried, being humored, rather than standing proud in his own right as a member of the house, as its future leader.
His jealousy, bitterness, and self-doubts had eventually led him to reject any further invites to ride in alongside his cousins whenever they went out flying. That hadn’t stopped him subconsciously counting the number of dragons and riders whenever they left for their flights and returned, even when he knew at least one of his parents or aunts and uncles were watching them. It was simply habit. It was what he had been taught to do.
Aemond had understood all of this, even if he hadn’t necessarily had the same experiences or reacted to their shared situation in the same way. He was a peer that could relate to his struggles in a way no one else could and Corlys had greatly appreciated that.
That was why it was upsetting when he woke up the next day to see Vhagar in the skies above King’s Landing and hear that Aemond had claimed her now that their great-grandfather had been put to rest. He should have expected it in hindsight but it still hurt. Their unique bond and kinship was gone. Aemond had claimed the largest dragon in the world and Corlys doubted their strange and tenuous connection would last forever now that what had bound them together had been removed. He had been left behind. He alone was now dragonless.
________________________________________
“Dead,” Corlys pronounced as he disarmed his cousin Baelor and pointed his wooden sword at his throat.
Their cousin Jaenara clapped politely. She had just arrived halfway through their bout with Baelor’s younger sister Serra in tow. “Well done Corlys!” she beamed. “What’s that make the score now?”
“Five to one,” Baelor groused out as Corlys dropped his sword from his cousin’s neck and swung it around in his arm for fun.
“And who’s five?” Jaenara asked, mocking innocence in her voice.
Baelor glared at her lightly as he bent down to pick his wooden sword back up. “You know who. Corlys is just too damn good.”
“I would dare say you have as much talent Master Baelor. It just so happens that Master Corlys applies himself the most in the art of swordsmanship. You can match him if you do likewise,” Captain Sandoq spoke up from where he had been observing and teaching them.
The seven-foot tall warrior was the captain of his father’s personal squadron within the Tide Guard so Corlys was quite familiar with the man and he had taught him much of what he knew about swordsmanship.
“It was much the same with your fathers. Lord Jacaerys and Lord Lucerys were evenly matched for many years but Lord Lucerys was always more dedicated and less preoccupied with other more lordly matters. After squiring for myself, Lord Lucerys’ skills increased by leaps and bounds. It was his commitment to practice and study that made him the best swordsman among his siblings, maybe even in the whole house, and I am including the Minors as well,” Ser Protector Jaremy Gottwell said from where he stood beside Ser Sandoq.
Corlys was deeply grateful for the presence of the experienced and beloved Lord Commander of the Tide Guard. He had always liked Ser Jaremy, he was certain his whole did. The man was loyal, earnest, and endearing. As the Lord Commander he didn’t often attend to them though, usually accompanying their grandfather. His presence in the training yard to help teach them was thus a rare and appreciated occasion.
“What about my father?” Jaenara asked curiously.
Ser Jaremy and Ser Sandoq looked at each other before Ser Jaremy spoke, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Lord Daeron? He was always better with a spear than a sword but I dare say he might have become an even better warrior than Lord Lucerys if he had kept up the pace of his training after he received Aeglos from Lord Corlys. Still it was never his passion or calling, not like it was for Lord Lucerys.”
“So if you compared them today, who do you think would win between our fathers?” Corlys asked curiously. It wasn’t very often that he saw his father or uncles in the training yard. They spent most of their time with matters of state or relentlessly drilling on dragonback. If they trained in more conventional weapons in the yard as well, it was not when Corlys or any of his siblings or cousins were there.
“Definitely Lord Lucerys for sure,” Ser Jaremy answered. “As I said earlier, I dare say he is the best in his generation. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone in the Triarchy who could match him outside of the Tide Guard.”
Baelor frowned. “I don’t see him practicing that often.”
“You only spend a few hours of your day in the training yard Master Baelor. Usually the same hours your father is busy with other matters,” Ser Sandoq said.
“And our generation? Is it Corlys?” Jaenara continued her questioning.
He had to keep himself from fidgeting when Ser Sandoq and Ser Jaremy scrutinized him. “He’s certainly the best for now, we’ll see whether that continues in the future,” Ser Jaremy answered his cousin.
Corlys resisted the urge to preen. He took pride in his accomplishments with the sword. Without a dragon to occupy his time, he had determined to make up for it in some way and his studies and the training yard had been his solution. His mother and father had approved and had pushed him to keep at it. Hopefully the day would come when he could bear Riptide or Seafang with pride, maybe even both if his skills progressed far enough to dual wield. Dual wielding Valyrian steel swords, now wouldn’t that be a sight.
Unfortunately, his daydreams had been noticed as the two Tide Guards smirked devilishly. “Why Master Corlys, you look all too pleased with yourself. I presume that to mean you have discovered some incredible new swordsmanship technique? Please demonstrate it to us. Fifty strokes would suffice,” Ser Jaremy said with a smile as he pointed him toward the dummy.
Corlys groaned before he raised his sword and walked over to the dummy. Of course, he had no ‘incredible new technique’ so he decided to simply execute his basic strokes and began slashing and slicing at the dummy. Behind him, he heard Ser Sandoq speaking to his little brother.
“Right then Master Daemon. Your turn for a round with your cousin,” Ser Jaremy said, prodding Corlys’ younger brother into the field to take his place against Baelor.
When he had finally finished with his fifty strokes under Ser Jaremy’s watchful eye, he turned back to see that Baelor had defeated Daemon for the third time. Noticing his glance, he smirked at him. “I won Corlys!”
Corlys was not impressed. “You take pride in defeating my seven-year old little brother Baelor? Now that’s low, even for you,” he teased.
Baelor took it in stride. “I need to build up my skills against the weaker opponents before I take on the greatest foe of all,” he said, staring at him meaningfully.
“Your laziness?” Corlys prodded with a smirk.
Jaenara and Serra burst out laughing and Corlys had to resist joining them, chuckling. Even Baelor sighed and begrudgingly smiled at the well placed jest. The two Tide Guards seemed very amused as well.
It was always fun bantering with his cousins. In truth, they felt more like full-blooded siblings than cousins to him. Perhaps that was more than just a feeling. According to their parents and grandparents, since his and Daemon’s mother and father and Baelor and Serra’s mother and father were two pairs of identical twins, they were related by blood as much as full siblings were. And as they said, blood was thicker than water.
He loved all of them dearly. Baelor, his best friend, his brother in all the ways that mattered; they were of age, and one day they would rule the Velaryon State together as their fathers did. Jaenara, the closest in age to them both and so very adventurous and mischievous. Serra, Baelor’s bookish and shy but sweet little sister. Daemon, his oblivious and pampered younger brother. And Rhaelle, Jaenara’s bubbly and excitable younger sister.
The six of them were the eldest of their generation, the Zaldilaros Velaryons born before the Triunification. They would be the future leaders of the Velaryon State, and one day all of their people and younger siblings would look to them for leadership and guidance. And there were quite a few of those younger siblings already.
Jaenara and Rhaelle had two younger siblings already, the toddling Naerys and the infant Maelys. There had been some drama between Uncle Lucerys and Aunt Rhaena that had only been resolved a few years ago but their reconciliation had already borne fruit in the form of Baelor and Serra’s younger brother Aethan, born only the previous year. And of course, Corlys’ own parents had already given him and Daemon a younger brother and sister. Little Aurion, only four years old and barely older than Naerys, and of course Daena, who had only been born a few months ago.
At the rate their parents were going, their grandparents might have twenty grandchildren. They already had eleven, what was nine more when all of their parents were still young and in the prime of their lives?
He was brought back to the training yard by Ser Jaremy prodding him with a wooden sword of his own. “Care for a bout Master Corlys?”
“Of course Ser Jaremy, I am always eager to learn more,” Corlys said humbly, though with the slightest amount of sarcasm in his voice. He did his best to ignore his little brother and cousins snickering at his misfortune.
There was a bright side he reminded himself. A good thrashing from the Lord Commander would make sure he didn’t become overconfident at the very least.
Corlys readied himself and raised his sword before the Lord Commander suddenly stood at attention and bowed respectfully. Ser Sandoq did the same. He followed his gaze to see his uncle Daeron walking up to them. Rhaelle was beside him, bubbly as ever, she skipped as she followed her father.
“Daddy!” Jaenara shouted excitedly as she ran up to her father and hugged him.
Corlys couldn’t help but feel amused. His cousin liked to act so adult around them but whenever her parents or more accurately her father appeared, she tossed aside the mask entirely and acted openly like the child she was. The child they all were to be honest.
“Uncle Daeron,” Corlys said in acknowledgement, bowing his head slight. Baelor, Serra, and Daemon followed suit.
“What are you doing here Uncle?” Baelor asked curiously.
“Looking for Jaenara actually. Aunt Laena and I will be teaching Rhaelle how to fly today. Any of you want to come with?”
Immediately his cousins started clamoring to join, even the normally quiet Serra was speaking up excitedly. His uncle Daeron laughed. “Alright alright. Let me just check with my brothers if it’s fine by them and we can get you all flying within the hour, he told them before he spoke to their teachers. “Ser Jaremy, Ser Sandoq, my apologies for taking your charges from you.”
The two Tide Guards put their right hands on their chest and bowed respectfully. “No apologies needed Lord Daeron,” Ser Jaremy said loyally.
“What about Corlys?” Daemon asked suddenly. Everyone paused at his words.
‘Way to sour the mood little brother,’ Corlys thought tiredly. Daemon was as clueless and oblivious as always.
It had only been a week since their great-grandfather’s funeral. A week since Aemond had claimed Vhagar. He had done his best not to think or dwell on it, especially since the family was staying in High Tide for a few months to reconnect with their ancestral home and their grandparents who still stayed in it, but he was still upset deep down.
Aemond, whom he had always thought to be a kindred spirit, had a dragon. The largest dragon of all. But Corlys was still the dragonless heir, still wondering if he could truly protect and lead House Velaryon if he never got a dragon of his own.
He knew it wasn’t their intention or fault, but having his dragonless status rubbed in his face by his own brother and cousins stung. He did his best to just bury it and smile. “No it’s alright. I’ll just finish up with Ser Jaremy and Ser Sandoq’s lesson.”
Baelor it seemed didn’t get the hint or didn’t care. “Oh come on Corlys. It’s been ages since you went flying with us.”
“Yeah well I haven’t got a dragon to fly on now do I?” Corlys couldn’t help but retort. Why couldn’t he just drop it?
He could tell that Jaenara was about to speak up as well, probably to suggest he ride with Uncle Daeron since he presumed Aunt Laena would be on Krythax with Rhaelle and guiding her, but Uncle Daeron put his hand on her shoulder and quieted her.
“Are you sure Corlys? I don’t mind you flying with me on Terrax,” he said earnestly.
Corlys faked a smile. He appreciated their efforts to include him, but the last thing he wanted was to fly on someone else’s dragon and be brutally reminded of what he did not have. “Thank you Uncle. But no thank you. I really should finish my sword lessons. That’s how I keep my skills sharp after all,” he couldn’t help but finish.
If Baelor noticed his poke at him, he did not show it. After a nod to the Tide Guard, Uncle Daeron walked off with his brother and cousins in tow. He noticed Jaenara looking at him sadly as they left but Corlys ignored her gaze, throwing himself into his sword drills and getting his ass handed to him by Ser Jaremy and Ser Sandoq.
He didn’t need her pity. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, or their help, or their attempts to make him feel included or worthy since he didn’t have a dragon of his own.
And yet, in the end, he found himself on the Highest Tide. On one side of the tower you could even see the Dragonmont in the distance. On the other however, the side Corlys was leaning against the railing on, one could see much of the island of Driftmark.
It was a beautiful sight. To the south he could see Spicetown, still beautiful and perfectly maintained but he knew it broke his grandparents’ hearts that it was all but denuded of its people by now. To the north were the cool waters of Blackwater Bay and to the west was a small hill where his aunt and uncle had taken his brother and cousins to teach Rhaelle how to fly.
Taking out the far-eye, Corlys watched from afar longingly as his brother and cousins had fun, playing and riding their dragons. As his aunt mounted Krythax with Rhaelle in front of her so they could teach her how to ride.
He should be there. He wished he was there. He wished he was included, not out of pity but because he had a dragon of his own, a dragon that could make him feel like he belonged in his house, that he had the strength needed to protect his family and lead their house. But he didn’t. He was just the dragonless older brother and cousin, the one left behind counting the dragons that flew without him, wondering if the day might come when some accident or mishap happened and one of those dragons and its riders didn’t come back because he wasn’t there.
Perhaps he was overestimating his own importance. But he couldn’t help it. Ever since he was young, his father had drilled into his head that he was the eldest, that he was responsible for all of his cousins and siblings, that he had to be the reliable big brother and stalwart leader to all of them, just as he was with his own siblings.
Yet it was that same father who had denied him every opportunity to become that leader. Ever since his first egg hadn’t hatched, he must have asked dozens of times for another, hoping and begging that his mother and father would finally acquiesce to his wishes and give him another egg. He didn’t care if the dragon would be small, he just wanted one of his own.
But they had always been non-committal. ‘Eventually,’ or ‘Sometime in the future,’ they would say. Always doing their best to console and comfort him and then steer him away from the topic. Always promising that he would indeed have a dragon one day, but never letting him take the steps to make that future a reality. Why? He just couldn’t understand. Maybe they were disappointed in him. Maybe they thought that he shouldn’t have a dragon because he wasn’t the leader House Velaryon needed.
“I thought I would find you here,” a voice said suddenly, scaring him out of his miserable thoughts.
“Grandfather? What are you doing here?” Corlys asked, confused.
His namesake, Corlys the Sea Snake stood before him. All of 73 years old but still hale and hearty, with a strength that belied his age as he walked up to the railing and leaned on it.
“Give me some time will you? These aching knees of mine need some rest.”
“You’re not that old Grandfather,” Corlys denied.
“I’m older than your great-grandfather whom we just burned a week ago. Let me have my rest.”
That quieted Corlys down. However, he soon found himself bored as he stared at anything but his brother and cousins on the nearby hill. He didn’t want his grandfather thinking he was spying.
“You can watch them you know. I’m not going to judge,” his grandfather said as he caught him staring at them from the corner of his eye.
Corlys was alarmed and tried to make some excuses but his grandfather waved them away. “I can’t judge you Corlys. Not when I do the exact same thing. I have no dragon myself, so all I’ve ever been able to do is just watch, watch as my wife and children went out to battle on my behalf while I was left behind on the ground. Only once in my life has that not been the case.”
“The Morghon Riots,” Corlys said aloud, remembering his histories. It was the event that had solidified his grandparents’ rule of Tyrosh and it was commemorated in their calendar the Age of Zaldilaros. Year 1 started in the new year that came less than a month after that riot had been suppressed.
“Yes, that’s right. You’ve been paying attention to your history lessons. Your grandmother was in labor, giving birth to your Aunt Laena. I and the soldiers of our house had to fight and win that day, without dragons.
“My point my dear namesake, is that I know what it’s like to be dragonless. I know what it’s like to wonder if you’re the right person to lead. And I wanted to reassure you, that dragon or not, all of us, your parents, your aunts and uncles, your grandmother and me, we have always been so very proud of you and the strides you made to be the best that you can be, in your studies, in your swordsmanship, and the care and responsibility you show your siblings and cousins. Whether you get a dragon or not, you are and have always been good enough, and a worthy heir to myself and your father.
Corlys found himself tearing up despise his efforts not to. “Thank you,” he said at last when he got himself back under control.
“Of course my dear grandson,” his grandfather said with a tender smile.
“It means a lot to me, to hear that from you. And I thank you for the reminder that even someone who is dragonless can do great things and lead our house. You did it after all. But… I could be so much more if I had a dragon. It would make things so much easier.”
“That’s right,” his grandfather agreed, nodding his head.
“Then why? Why won’t my parents let me have another egg? They won’t even let me try and claim one of the spare dragons in the Pit in Myr,” Corlys asked insecurely.
His grandfather sighed. “It’s been nagging you hasn’t it? Aemond claiming Vhagar? Your Uncle Daeron told us about how you were acting in the yard and your parents wanted to speak to you immediately and make things right but I told them it had to be me. I am sorry Corlys, it was my order.”
“What?” he demanded, betrayed.
“Please, let me explain. When your egg didn’t hatch, your father waited a few years before he eventually approached me, concerned. He wanted to give you another egg, as many as it took until one finally hatched. I told him that he should wait. I knew that even if those eggs hatched, it would be years before they were large enough to ride, years you couldn’t get back, you would be disadvantaged against your older siblings and cousins. I felt that you were destined for more.
“You see; I believe that there is a way for our family to acquire for ourselves a dragon that would be second only in size to Dreamfyre. For years, I have been luring the dragon Sheepstealer to hunt on Driftmark by raising as many flocks of sheep here as I could. Your grandmother and I think that if you were to offer him bribes of sheep every day for a few weeks, you might be able to acclimatize him to you and claim him. You would have a dragon larger than all your siblings and cousins, larger even than your parents and aunts and uncles. All your worries, your fears, they’d be wiped away in a moment.
Corlys exhaled and looked away from his grandfather. “So all along, my parents wouldn’t give me another egg because you and them believed that I could claim a dragon that was larger than the rest and you didn’t want me to settle for a hatchling that would take years to grow and mature?”
His grandfather nodded.
“Why? If you were waxing lyrical about how I’d be a worthy heir even if dragonless, why would it be a problem if my dragon was smaller than Baelor and the others? And why not just tell me what the plan was? Do you know how much I worried about this? And for nothing it seems?”
His grandfather looked contrite. “I am sorry that we worried you Corlys. It was wrong. But there were extenuating circumstances. You were too young to know this earlier, and honestly your parents and grandmother worry if you are still too young, but I know you. I know you’re responsible and trustworthy enough to know this and know that it shouldn’t be spread around.
“We are worried that the rising tensions between House Velaryon and House Targaryen will lead to an escalation in the future. We want to have as many dragons as possible and as large as possible so that our position is as strong as it can be when that time comes. That’s why we were so focused on getting Sheepstealer for you. Why we told you as little as possible about our plans for your dragon.
“You have a strange friendship of sorts with Aemond, bonding over your mutual dragonless status, and we were worried that a younger and less mature you would have wanted to make himself feel better and inadvertently leak it, if not to Aemond directly then to your siblings and cousins who will then spread it around. The last thing we want or need is the Targaryens learning that we want to claim Sheepstealer or think there may be an escalation.”
Escalation… his grandfather had avoided using the word directly, perhaps out of respect to his youth, but Corlys was dreadfully mature for his age. Sometimes it felt like he hadn’t really had a childhood with how much his father had pushed him to do better in his studies, to always look out for his siblings and cousins and watch over them. Now he knew why.
“Are we preparing for war against House Targaryen?” he asked plainly.
His grandfather exhaled. “What makes you say that?”
“I might be just a boy, but I’m not stupid. All this ‘escalation’ you speak of. You and everyone else would not have taken this matter so seriously unless everything was at stake. Our family is simply too powerful for anything short of war with House Targaryen to truly worry us at this point.”
His grandfather looked hesitant. “You’re just a child. Only ten years old.”
Corlys’ voice was stern as he spoke back. “A child you and everyone else raised for war. A child you groomed for leadership and the defense of his kin. Tell it to me truthfully. Will there be war against House Targaryen?”
His grandfather sighed. “Yes. Your mother and Aunt Rhaena have been in denial for years but deep in their hearts I think even they now believe war is inevitable. You’ve see how Rhaenys and Aegon treat us. Whether it be the day Rhaenys ascends the throne or five years after, war is inevitable once your Great Uncle Aemon dies.”
Corlys noticed his grandfather had omitted Rhaenys and Aegon’s address as Aunt and Uncle. Perhaps he should do the same in the future, in his own thoughts at least.
He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Then it wasn’t all for nothing. All those years you kept secrets from me, the years that I worried over my own inadequacy, it was to protect our family. And I will make sure they weren’t in vain, I will make sure that I have the power to lead and protect my younger siblings and cousins, as my parents taught me to do. I will claim Sheepstealer. When can I start?”
Despite the regret in his eyes, his grandfather wore a smile as he answered. “Tomorrow.”
___________________________________________
After he had had that earnest conversation with his grandfather, Corlys had walked down that tower and confronted his parents in private. He had told them that he knew the truth, that his grandfather had confessed everything, he had told them how they had inadvertently made him feel for so many years, raising him to lead and protect and confusing him by denying him the very thing that could have let him do that so much easier. He told them that he understood now why they had done it, and that he forgave them.
His mother had been in tears by the time he had finished, but it had been the first time Corlys recalled ever seeing his father cry. Both of his parents had almost broken down from the years of stress and worries, telling him how sorry they were and wishing that they could have been better, that they could have told him the truth or given him a proper peaceful childhood instead of raising him for war.
Corlys had simply accepted their apologies before consoling them. He regretted that he couldn’t have a carefree childhood, but as the heir of House Velaryon, that was not something he was ever going to have anyway, war or no war. His parents had done the right thing; he was certain of that.
They had spent hours speaking after that, discussing the plans for the war before he was sworn to secrecy. He was far more mature than all of his siblings and cousins, even Baelor and Jaenara, and they were not ready to hear the truth yet even if all of them were being subtly trained for war for their own sake, so they could survive.
The morning after, Corlys mounted his father’s dragon and rode in the saddle with him as they searched for Sheepstealer. His parents had been certain that the dragon was on Driftmark and Corlys guessed they must have seen it in the glass candles they had told him about. He shuffled in his seat in front of his father uncomfortably, holding a bound and tied up sheep in his arms. Hopefully this would be one of the last times he ever had to ride on someone else’s dragon with them.
Beside them flew his mother on Moondancer and his grandmother on Dreamfyre. They would be landing much further away from Sheepstealer so as to not make the dragon feel threatened but if it came down to a fight and he reacted negatively to Corlys’ offer of sheep, they would be able to help his father and Tessarion deal with Sheepstealer.
Finally, after they flew for an hour, they finally found Sheepstealer lairing in a cave in one of the hills in Driftmark’s interior. His mother and grandmother landed their dragons a great distance away while his father landed Tessarion at the cave’s entrance.
They unchained themselves from the saddle and dismounted, with his father helping him carry the sheep down and into the entrance of the cave. As they walked further into the cave, they saw him.
His colors were not what Corlys would call pretty, nothing like Daemon’s Saffyre, Serra’s Starflame, Jaenara’s Urrax, or even Baelor’s Aegion. His scales were an almost ugly mud brown, their dark color making it impossible to see how large the dragon truly was in the dimly lit cave, but his eyes were a golden chestnut that glared at him as he began to growl.
Corlys’ father paused. He already had a dragon, he could go no closer to a wild and unpredictable dragon. It was all up to Corlys now.
With a fear he had never felt before sinking into his bones, he forced himself to walk further, going as close as he dared before he presented the sheep before the dragon and slowly backed away. The poor sheep was squirming and writing in its binds.
Suddenly, an orange-brown flame lit up the cave as Sheepstealer killed and cooked his meal and for a few moments, Corlys saw for himself the size of the great dragon. He was easily the size of Caraxes or Meleys, around four-fifths the size of Dreamfyre if his estimation was correct.
The dragon stalked forward to inspect his meal, sniffing at the cooked carcass before he sniffed Corlys and for a dreadful moment he thought he was about to be roasted as well. To his everlasting relief however, the dragon seemed to snort before returning to enjoy his meal.
As quickly and subtly as he could after that, Corlys left the cave and ran into his father’s arms, well aware the whole time that the dragon’s gaze had never left him as he had run. Sheepstealer had let him go, and they both knew it.
For the next three weeks that pattern continued, Corlys would return with his parents and grandmother and their dragons. Some days he brought two sheep, others three, and some days only one. And they were varying it up, choosing different ages, breeds, and genders to determine which one was to Sheepstealer’s taste.
Of course a dragon with that name liked all sheep but they did eventually find that a certain breed and age was particularly delectable to him and made sure to bring those types of sheep from then on as treats to help entice the dragon to trust Corlys.
After one week, Corlys was comfortable and brave enough to walk right up to Sheepstealer and present his offering, trusting that the dragon would not kill him and lose his free daily sheep. After two weeks, Sheepstealer seemed to become almost affectionate to him, nudging him gently with his snout and tail and allowing him to touch him.
It was an unreal moment the first time he touched the dragon. He could feel warmth and power beneath those scales, and also a growing trust and friendship. In that moment, he couldn’t believe he had ever thought the dragon ugly. A brown that had once seemed dull and muddy now seemed to be mahogany and rich and he knew that if the dragon bonded to him and let his keepers groom him, he could make his true colors shine.
Later he realized that the moment the dragon had let him touch him had been when their bond had first started forming in the back of his mind, letting him begin to sense intuitively what the dragon wanted. It was how he knew exactly which sheep types he liked, what way he liked to be stroked, how he came to realize that he had won the dragon’s loyalty for himself and what a precious gift it was.
After the third week, Corlys came one day with a saddle, and the dragon gave him an amused look. ‘It’s about time,’ his expression seemed to be saying.
Due to Sheepstealer’s size, he struggled with putting on the saddle and so called his father and mother to help him. Sheepstealer growled at them as they approached but Corlys put as much will as he could into his command to calm the dragon. “Lykirī.”
Sheepstealer would need proper training to reinforce the High Valyrian commands, but their bond and his will alone was strong enough to make the dragon obey for now. Perhaps on an instinctual level the dragons had been designed by their Valyrian forefathers with blood magic and flesh shaping to answer to commands in the High Valyrian language, whether they were trained or not.
Once the saddle was on, Corlys strapped and chained himself in and his father handed him a whip. He had barely taken hold of the whip when Sheepstealer charged for the entrance of the cave without his command, startling Tessarion and Moondancer who hurriedly moved out of the way. Corlys could hear his parents shouting panickedly behind him but he had little time to pay them any heed as his desperate attempts to compel the dragon to obey him failed.
“Lykirī! Rȳbās! Dohaerās!”
Calm, obey, serve, all his commands were ignored and his desperate whipping did nothing but make the dragon more defiant. With a running start Sheepstealer unfurled his wings and took off into the sky, climbing steadily higher and higher. Even though he was chained and strapped in, he held on for dear life nonetheless, the whip long since lost to the wind.
From the corner of his eye he could see Dreamfyre in pursuit, Tessarion and Moondancer not far behind. He knew, he could sense Sheepstealer’s growing rage and annoyance. If he didn’t get him under control soon and calm the situation, something bad might happen.
He steeled himself. He was Corlys Velaryon, the Second of his Name, the son and heir of Jacaerys Velaryon and Baela Targaryen. The blood of Old Valyria flowed in his veins, the blood of seafarers, adventurers, kings, and dragonlords alike. The dragon did not command him, he commanded the dragon, and it would obey and serve him.
“Dohaerās!” he commanded with every ounce of willpower he could summon, pulling as hard as he could on the nascent bond to project his mind into the dragon’s very being and remind him who his master was.
Begrudgingly, Sheepstealer obeyed, tipping his nose down to level his body and flatten his wings. In just a few moments, the chaotic and frantic flight they had had earlier was gone, replaced by a calming and soothing sojourn.
Corlys looked up in amazement and saw the gentle white clouds not far above. At his command, Sheepstealer soared through them, letting him feel them for himself. Beneath him the entirety of the islands of Driftmark and Dragonstone in the distance were visible. The dominating and imposing castle of High Tide looked like one of Daemon and Aurion’s toy fortresses from this height.
He had flown on a dragon before, but not like this. Nothing could truly describe this liberating feeling, this heady and intoxicating power and freedom that he felt. On top of his dragon, Corlys thought that he could do anything, be anyone, and Sheepstealer would make it all possible.
Soon he realized they had company, as Tessarion and Dreamfyre pulled up on his right and Moondancer to his left. He turned to his parents and grandmother and saw proud smiles on their faces and tears of relief and joy in their eyes.
Eventually he started struggling to breathe. The air was thinner up here and he had not the dragonriding experience to adapt to it. Ordering Sheepstealer to descend, he flew over all of Driftmark and surveyed it, his parents and grandmother’s dragons never tarrying too far behind.
He must have flown for hours before he finally felt the cramps in his leg and the tiredness in his arms and bones. When that happened, he ordered Sheepstealer back to High Tide and directed him to land in the central courtyard of High Tide.
As he dismounted his dragon, he was immediately rushed by his siblings and cousins, all of them excitedly buzzing and wanting to know when he had claimed such a large dragon and saying how fun it would be now that he had a dragon as well. Corlys smiled and responded to all of their questions happily.
He was glad his surprise had worked, he had asked his parents and grandparents to make sure his claiming a dragon had remained a secret from his siblings and cousins until he succeeded. It was a petty and cathartic joy he needed after ten years of jealousy and feelings of insecurity to see the looks of awe and wonder on their faces when he landed atop a dragon larger than any in the house save their grandmother’s Dreamfyre.
When he looked past his siblings and cousins, he saw his grandfather walking up to him. “You did it,” he said, a look of pride and amazement in his eyes.
“Did you ever doubt it?” Corlys couldn’t help but reply.
“Not for one moment,” his grandfather said earnestly and he could sense the truth in his voice.
“What’s his name?” he asked suddenly, looking at the massive brown dragon.
Corlys frowned. “He already has one.”
His grandfather raised an eyebrow. “Sheepstealer? Really? A name given to him by peasants and one he neither knows nor answers to? It’s good as an epithet or a nickname at most. No he needs a proper name, a name that you give him to take as his new identity and answer to. A name befitting the dragon ridden by the future head of House Velaryon.”
Acknowledging the sense in his grandfather’s words, Corlys racked his head for a good name for his dragon, going through the names he remembered learning in his histories of Valyria before he found one that just resonated with him and he knew in his heart that it was the best name.
Speaking to his dragon and laying his hand on him, Corlys declared. “From now on my friend, your name will be Telarion.”
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The Youngest Generation of House Velaryon and House Targaryen, circa the Twelfth Moon of 126 AC
Born to Jacaerys Velaryon and Baela Targaryen:
- Corlys Velaryon ‘the Younger’, born 116 AC, 10 years old. Rides the male dragon Sheepstealer, renamed Telarion; a dull mud-brown beast but lean and huge. Sheepstealer hatched when King Jaehaerys was young sometime in the 50s AC from an egg on Dragonstone of uncertain parentage but believed to be Vhagar before she was moved to the Dragonpit in 56 AC.
- Daemon Velaryon, born 119 AC, 7 years old. Rides a sapphire and saffron-purple colored she-dragon named Saffyre which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 119 AC.
- Aurion Velaryon, born 122 AC, 4 years old. Bonded to a silver male young dragon named Artaxes, with black claws, horns, crests, and white belly scales that hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 122 AC.
- Daena Velaryon, born 126 AC, less than a year old. Possesses a dragon egg from Dreamfyre laid in her cradle.
Born to Lucerys Velaryon and Rhaena Targaryen:
- Baelor Velaryon, born 116 AC, 10 years old. Rides an iron and silver-colored male dragon named Aegion which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 116 AC.
- Serra Velaryon, born 118 AC, 8 years old. Rides a violet and white-blue she-dragon named Starflame which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 118 AC.
- Aethan Velaryon, born 125 AC, 1 year old. Bonded to a young male dragon, colored red with orange wings and yellow accents and scales looking like the dawn, named Gaelithox, that hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 125 AC.
Born to Daeron and Laena Velaryon:
- Jaenara Velaryon, born 117 AC, 9 years old. Rides a crimson and gold colored male dragon named Urrax which hated from an egg of Dreamfyre in 117 AC.
- Rhaelle Velaryon, born 120 AC, 6 years old. Bonded to a sky-blue she-dragon with white belly scales, crests, horns, accents, and wing membranes named Krythax, which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 120 AC.
- Naerys Velaryon, born 123 AC, 3 years old. Bonded to a sandy brown and peach male dragon named Talaxes, that hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 123 AC.
- Maelys Velaryon, born 125 AC, 1 year old. Bonded to a red and green young male dragon named Falkael, that hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 125 AC.
Born to Aegon and Helaena Targaryen:
- Aemond Targaryen, born 116 AC, 10 years old. Rides the great dragon Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world, bronze with greenish blue highlights and bright green eyes. She hatched from an egg laid by one of the four older dragons of House Targaryen before Balerion in the Century of Blood and is now 178 years old.
- Maelor Targaryen, born 119 AC, 7 years old. Bonded to a ferocious male dragon with scarlet wings and horns, black scales streaked with scarlet, and eyes as red as coals named Nightfyre which hatched from an egg of Dreamfyre in 119 AC.
- Daenys Targaryen, born 122 AC, 4 years old. Bonded to a cunning male dragon, with dark jade-green scales and wings, molten gold-bronze eyes and orange-yellow flames shot through with veins of green and black claws and needle teeth, named Jadewing.
Born to Jaehaerys and Rhaenyra Targaryen:
- Visenya Targaryen, born 117 AC, 9 years old. Rides an olive-green male dragon with pale orange wing membranes named Vermax that hatched from an egg of Syrax in 117 AC.
- Viserys Targaryen ‘the Younger’, born 117 AC, 9 years old. Rides a pearlescent white male dragon with golden eyes and chest named Arrax that hatched from an egg of Syrax in 117 AC.
- Aelyx Targaryen, born 119 AC, 7 years old. Possesses a dragon egg from Syrax.
- Gaemon Targaryen, born 121 AC, 5 years old. Possesses a dragon egg from Syrax.
- Elaena Targaryen, born 123 AC, 2 years old. Possesses a dragon egg from Syrax.
- Vaella Targaryen, born 126 AC, less than a year old. The infant is bonded to a hatchling who hatched from an egg laid in her cradle. The majority of the hatchling’s scales are cream but its horns, wing bones, and spiral crest, are gold. Its teeth are shining black daggers and its eyes pools of molten gold. It has not yet spit flame. The unnamed hatchling’s egg initially belonged to Prince Aemond but upon his claiming of the dragon Vhagar, he gave the egg which had not hatched in his cradle to his recently born youngest Targaryen cousin Vaella.
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Author’s Note: Hope you guys liked this interlude from the eyes of Corlys II! It’s funny that after so long we can finally say that this story has the POV of Corlys Velaryon lol. I hope that the look into the third generation of House Zaldilaros Velaryon was fun and engaging for all of you and everything made sense. Lmk your thoughts and suggestions in the comments below or in the patron chats over on Discord! https://discord.com/invite/NSEwuzpcWm
Comments
Tertius711
She's 80% the size of Vhagar.
Tariel Khalvashi
Then can you tell at this point how big the Dreamfire is in relation to Vhagar?
Tertius711
There are lists prepared for this yes but they won't be dropping until the Dance does so everyone has them fresh for the war.
Tariel Khalvashi
Can you give us information about dragons and their riders? And also order them from largest to smallest.
Tertius711
At most it would be dragon arts I can find online. AI isn't very good at making animals
ElektrikRush
I love the descriptions of the dragons but would there ever be artworks of them?
Tertius711
I don't think dragon scales can change color just because they are bonded but my intention with that was to show how the bond colored Corlys II's perception of the dragon and made him think it's beautiful. And tbf the dragon being cleaned and groomed properly will definitely have an effect on his beauty.
Silveraith
I wonder if the status of having no dragonrider is the reason for Sheepstealer being a dull mud colour, that with a new rider his scales will become a richer colour. It's also likely that being properly cleaned and groomed will have an effect as well.
