Chapter 29: Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Getting out of my lessons, I immediately went off to Father's tower. There had to be a better way than this. Nothing but attrition and minutiae, and with the financial support we receive from Braavos contingent on not actually doing anything that might help outside of bleeding from a thousand cuts while they made lucrative amounts of money. I ran up the steps, knocking on the door of Father's solar as I arrived.

"It opens!" he called out from inside. I rolled my eyes and opened the door as his bodyguard stepped behind me to block any potential followers. Inside, Baela was giggling as Father picked her up and spun her in a circle before placing her on his shoulders.

"Lucerys, do you have ought to report?" Father asked, Baela moving back and forth to try and regain his attention. Quietly, I walked up beside him, lifting Baela from beneath her arms and moving her to my side.

"The ships menacing Torturer's Deep have been eliminated, Laena and I destroyed them," I reported. "No survivors," I added grimly. Father nodded.

"Yes, Corlys already sent that report. Is there naught else? You'd not have come otherwise," he said. I shifted Baela on my hip before answering.

"This won't end, Braavos and Pentos are letting us bleed dry. For every pirate base we take out, another comes back to the same old spots, or makes new ones. We need to take the fight to the Triarchy in a way that won't let them continue to send pirates against us," I explained. "We need more support in this endeavor, as we cannot afford to move directly on the cities yet." Father raised an eyebrow, finally sitting down.

"Go on," he said, crossing his arms. Gently, I placed Baela on the ground, much to her annoyance, before walking over to Father.

"We need Volantis," I finally said. "They're the only ones who can challenge the Triarchy on land, and the only Free City that could threaten them enough to buy us time to breathe, and for Corlys' ships to establish full control before any more pirates arrive. If we can get them to attack the Triarchy they should be able to keep them busy… probably forever. Or at least more than enough time for us."

"Or until they settle for peace. Their winds shift every moon turn, Luke," Father replied. That was absolutely not the point I was trying to make, and I moved to reply, but Father cut me off. "It is not without merit that we may force them into peace, and the Volantenes still hold a candle for the return of the blood of the dragon," he leaned back on his desk with a smile. "Come, then, we will fly to Volantis and have a discussion with the Triarchs," he finished.

"Now?" I asked, placing Baela gently on the ground.

"Now," Father confirmed. "I will send word to the Dragon Keepers, you run and tell young Laenor to keep Baela company until we return." Well, I wasn't in the mood to continue that discussion.

"Very well," I said in reply, still disbelieving at the speed of everything. Shouldn't we at least plan something?

Thinking about it, Father never really seemed to plan things out, whether in the original timeline or here, only when he was grooming his niece or killing his goodbrother.

Grumbling, I left the room to prepare, Baela running out behind me and off down the halls, gods know where. I ran down to the Velaryon estate to at least make the attempt to find Laenor while Laena was gone. After about six different servants I finally got one to point me in the right direction. Tossing the servant a silver moon for their help and discretion, I left to chase down my wayward cousin.

A short while later, I finally arrived at my destination and walked in, calling out, "Laenor, I need you to-". When my brain finally caught up with my eyes, and the fact that he definitely wasn't alone, my face turned bright red and I closed the door with a yelp.

"Sorry!" I screamed. Clamoring from inside, I heard enough tumbling to make a cheese festival jealous, before Laenor threw the door back open, wearing a shirt that was definitely not his, in colors of yellow and red.

"What?!" he yelled at me. "I was in the middle of something!" My face went bright red, but I couldn't resist a retort, even as he glared at me.

"Something, or someone?" I quipped with a smirk. "And Father wants to fly somewhere, you're in charge of Baela until we get back." Laenor just stared at me for several moments. I gulped, internally wondering if he was about to strangle me, probably not the pleasurable kind either. Wait, where did that come from?!

"Just go away," Laenor finally said. I hesitated for a second, before piping up.

"So… is that a yes, or-" I began.

"It's a 'go away before I strangle you and have to fight Daemon to the death for it,'" he snapped. Okay, understood, don't walk in on him, got it. I quickly nodded, before it finally clicked whose shirt he was wearing. I gave a cheeky grin as I turned.

"Just make sure Joff gets his shirt back, Lord Corlys will be expecting him when he arrives!" I said, running off at full speed. I didn't even need to imagine the look on Laenor's face.

"I, wha, LUKE!" I ignored Laenor's sputtered yelling after me as I booked it to the dragons, he couldn't chase me down with how long it would take to get trousers on. I arrived at the dragons as Father was giving orders to unchain the dragons. Without any prompting, I climbed up Vermithor's saddle as his chains came off. Father mounted Caraxes moments later, and we took off, climbing into the air before flying due east.

It took an hour of flying before I could finally get the image of walking in on Laenor out of my head. After another hour I started to realize that maybe this wasn't the best idea. It took yet another hour till I realized it was actually a terrible one. Yet Father wouldn't be deterred, on the single stop we made for our dragons, he seemed positively giddy about the prospect of gaining the support of Volantis.

The more I thought about it, the worse it seemed like an idea. Braavos was our main financial backer, and they'd be furious about us approaching Volantis behind their backs, like an "ally" of Athens suddenly turning to Sparta for military aid. Hopefully, Braavos wouldn't pull a Melos on us.

It was early morning the next day when Volantis finally arrived within sight, a sprawling mass spanning almost as far as I could see in each direction, dwarfing any city I'd seen yet in this life. Deep black roads and walls surrounded the Old City, while the rest was a mix of brick and marble, a long bridge spanning the mighty Rhoyne connected them.

With a roar from Caraxes sure to wake up any of the city's inhabitants, Father directed the dragon to begin circling the city, as I ordered Vermithor to follow. Below, some crowds began to form and scatter, staring up at the first draconic presence in their city in two centuries. After our third loop, Father went in for a dive, straight for the west side of the Long Bridge, before rushing just above it, so close I worried he may injure someone.

I made sure to hang above it while Father showed off. After his low sweep on the bridge, he returned to the air and flew up to the Black Wall's gatehouse, hovering above it for a moment before touching down. Guards atop it seemed to be scrambling for some kind of response, as I flew Vermithor in to land just before the gate. After several minutes, some poor guard was finally let onto the roof by a ladder to deal with my father when his ego was higher than it had been in months, you could see his head for miles.

"My Lord!" he called out in High Valyrian, "may I ask what you would like, and to please land safely on the ground?" Father definitely made a show of walking around and thinking, while Caraxes let out a non-harmful jet of flame into the air. Once he was suitably assured of the attentiveness of his already captive audience, he finally deigned to speak.

"I have need of the Triarchs of Volantis, pray send for them, for I come as an envoy with a proposal they will, I think, find most appealing," Father said, in the same calm conviction he always gave his orders in. After receiving the message, the guardsman retreated down off the roof as Father calmly stood looking around. Some sent quick looks my way, but always looked away after a puff of smoke from Vermithor, which was good because I was far too tired to glare effectively. After several awkward minutes, I motioned for Vermithor to move to atop the gatehouse, to load groans from the guards within. Once atop, I dismounted my dragon and walked up next to Father, careful to step along the roof. Seeing me, Father walked over to me and placed an arm around my shoulders.

"Tell me, Lucerys," he said, gazing out over the hesitant crowd that had formed below, staring up at all of us. "Do you feel it, the power we have?" I nodded.

"Yeah, yeah I can feel it," I bit out. I didn't like the fact that they were rushing around to please my father when he was acting like a psychopathic manchild, but that was exactly the power it gave all of us.

After some time passed, several trumpets sounded and a commotion scattered inside the Black Wall, revealing four large elephants and several chariots riding up the avenue. Closer and closer they arrived, the elephants stopping just before the gate, before a true horde of dignitaries flooded around, all dressed in purple and white silks to compliment various ranges of silver to golden hair. Swiftly, a large speaking platform was carried to the square, and someone stepped forward onto it.

"The Valyrian Freehold in Volantis, first among cities, Eldest Daughter and heir of Valyria, Warden of the Rhoyne, Queen of Cities welcomes the Princes of House Targaryen. Here on behalf of our illustrious city…" he then proceeded to name every single dignitary and title imaginable for the next twenty minutes at least. It was a wonder his lungs didn't give out by the time he was finished.

"And finally, most esteemed of all, the first among freeholders, the most honorable Triarch Belicho of the most noble and pure house of Loheris, the honorable Triarch Vogarro of the most noble and pure house of Maegyr, and the honorable Triarch Doniphos of the most noble and pure house of Vhassar." Following this long pontification, Father and I finally landed on the ground. As soon as we'd touched down, the 'most honorable' Triarch's elephant approached, and multiple slaves carefully lowered two rolls of silk to us.

"Please accept these humble gifts," the Triarch announced down to us, as slaves unfurled purple silken rolls that could buy an entire city each on their own. With a wave from Father, the silks were then refolded and placed in Vermithor's saddlebag, barely big enough for them. Several more moments passed as Father prepared to speak.

"Triarchs, might we retire to a more… secluded… location?" he said, choosing explicitly to switch to the Lysene dialect of Valyrian as he flashed a grin. Without missing a beat, Triarch 1 replied.

"Posthaste, my lord!" he called down. "We have prepared rooms for your use at the Viceregal Palace!"

"Excellent, we shall remain on our dragons for the triumphal route, then?" I thought I saw a different expression on the Triarch's face for a moment, but when I blinked it was gone. Must have been the wind.

"But of course," he replied, as a slave gave the order for the elephants to begin turning around. Caraxes and Vermithor stepped into spaces between them, stalking up the wide avenue like the elephants were prey, and loud whip snaps kept the elephants moving forward.

Large bushes, plants, and fences lined these avenues, private manses for the Old Blood, few outsiders ever allowed inside for any reason, and it was almost beautiful were it not for the brutality I knew hid away just beyond the city's pretty face. All manner of colorful shades lined the streets, as if to flaunt just how rich the city was. Before too long, we had arrived at the Palace.

Father was finally forced to dismount his dragon as we arrived in front of the palace, though not before leaving Caraxes in the center of the courtyard, curled up like a very scaly cat. Vermithor, moments later, walked over and joined him. We were then escorted through the palace, an obscene line up of overly lavished rooms and galleries of gold, silver, ivory. All of it further reinforcing their message, they had money, they had influence, they had power.

We were escorted to opulent rooms, larger even than the King's Bedroom at the Red Keep. Father turned to our guide expectantly, who quickly began speaking.

"We will hold a grand feast celebrating your arrival, after all Volantis takes care of its guests. Please, enjoy our humble hospitality while you wait," he said. Father just nodded.

"It's not King's Landing, but it'll do," he said. I took a look around the room and halls then looked back at Father. Well, I hope he doesn't overdose on all that copium. Father finally stepped into his room as I closed the door to my own.

My rooms were even more opulent than I expected— a large fireplace, a table fit for an up-class date, and a bed that would make Viserys jealous in size, and far richer materials. Probably smarter than Viserys, too, I remarked as I sat on it and just sank into it. Huh, this is actually pretty nice, I thought. As I laid there, I felt all my energy start to leave me. I'm sure no one will mind if I take a short nap, yeah, that sounds nice.

I was roused from my sleep some time later with a terrible taste in my mouth, I shook my head only to see a servant there with… oh, smelling salts.

"What time is it?" I asked, sensing a distinct desire to summon Vermithor. What? No, bad Luke! No Targaryen murder fantasies!

"For the feast, milord," she said quietly in Valyrian. From her arms, unfolded a rich silk toga with lines of purple. "A bath has been drawn for you, per the Master's wish," she squeaked out after. Poor thing sounded so terrified… and yet I could do nothing here. I just gave her a genuine smile and a 'thank you.' She stopped at that, then let her mouth perk up a bit as she placed the toga down and departed. She's probably only been thanked a few times in her life, ugh.

A few minutes later, more slaves came in to take me to be bathed, which they also seemed to want to make as extravagant as possible, even down to the smell of the soap they used to scrub me down.

An hour later I was the very image of a Volantenese noble, obscenely richly dressed, smelling like I was trying to cover up Tywin's corpse, and of course being sorrunded by slaves. It was all sickening. The slaves escorted me through several more halls decked out with all kinds of jewels and expensive fabrics and vases. I half-expected them to tip one over 'accidentally' just to show off how worthless the priceless objects were to them, but no such event ever occurred. Okay, maybe not exactly the Byzzies, but still the same style.

At the end of the hall, I was deposited in an even larger hall, met by Father, dressed in the same style of clothing, strutting like a peacock at the attention he was getting. Swiftly, we were directed to stand side by side before the great doors, left to marvel at the intricate artisanry of the frame and the richness of the wood on the doors, even the finish seemed both venerable and untouched. Finally, after making us wait for at least several minutes, the doors finally opened to a gigantic hall. While not quite the size of Harrenhal's, it was certainly larger than the throne room of the Red Keep. The moment we stepped through, a voice projected itself from my soon to be nightmares. It was that damned herald again.

"Announcing the Princes Daemon and Lucerys of House Targaryen!" he boomed once again in High Valyrian. Despite the show they were putting on, more than a few guests couldn't stop themselves from breaking character to turn and stare. Father simply basked in the attention, while also probably mentally kicking himself for not attempting to get an outdoor banquet, soas to use Caraxes for special effect. Huh, Father might have been really into theatre in the old-. I was snapped out of my thoughts by Father placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Luke, pay attention," he whispered harshly. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and attempted to play it off as childish nervousness; Swiftly, I put on the dumbest fake grin I could muster. While Father certainly rolled his eyes, it did seem to work on the guests who finally remembered that they were supposed to be acting all high-and-mighty for us. Every other interaction felt specifically rehearsed, and every bite of food had enough spices to rebuild Harrenhal twice over. Though, they could've held back a bit on the saffron, I like the cinnamon better. Even the drinks are spiced. Could really use some ginger, though.

After what felt like an eternity, everyone had finally eaten enough and made to retire for the evening. Yet, despite feeling as though I weighed a ton, I could do naught but stare at the ceiling praying for sleep to finally take me. Given it was Volantis, I was shocked they didn't send some poor slave to be a bedwarmer. The thought almost made me sick, but I finally, at least, managed to clear my head enough to begin the slow process of falling asleep.

The next morning, yet another group of slaves came prepare me for Father's meeting with the Triarchs. They bathed me and dressed me, thankfully with far less perfume this time, and escorted me through several smaller hallways, to a grand yet practical garden, with a long table across a pathway. Father sat upon one end, the Triarchs another… sipping what appeared to be tea. Wait, are they Romans or Englishmen?

The Center Triarch spoke up then, placing his tea down.

"Prince Daemon, please, have a seat," the man said, pointing at a couple of chairs in front of the table. Looking at the seats in question, it was painfully obvious even from afar that they were much much lower than they had to be. Father simply stared at them, before walking around the table. The Triarchs watched, a bit astonished, as Father grabbed two of the chairs from their side of the table, and loudly dragged both back to our side of the table along the stone pathway. I didn't bother to check to see if it was scratched… probably was. He placed them in between two of the smaller chairs, then sat down, a shit-eating grin on his face. The Triarchs didn't reply to that, instead only staring at Father and then at me as I sat down next to him. Words are certainly coming up short, I thought as even minutes later no one had said a word. Finally, after a stare-down straight out of a Western, Father finally spoke first.

"Many people say my illustrious ancestor's conquest of Westeros started the day he landed on the mouth of the Blackwater. It didn't. It started when he brought Fire and Blood to Essos," he said. Was he trying to rile them up into doing something extreme? "Back then our two great states were at war, and for that Essos was left to suffer in disunity and strife. But now, we are at peace, and it is high time to mend that rift I say, and forge a lasting alliance against our common foes," father finished.

"Our common enemies?" the Center Triarch asked.

"Why yes. The Triarchy. The Rogue Rebellious daughters of Valyria, in need of a good spanking." Oh I bet you'd love to give Lys a spanking. …wait, what, no! Bad Luke! Don't do that!

"Your war with the Triarchy is known to us, and yet, Volantis is not at war with them," the man replied.

"Indeed, and it is for that reason I have come here, to rectify this grave injustice," Father replied. "For too long has the Triarchy resisted Volantis, for too long has Volantis been kept out of the disputed lands. With House Targaryen in the West and the first daughter of Valyria in the East, the Triarchy will not be able to oppose you," he finished.

Nobody said anything after that. The silence was deafening, and yet through it I could almost hear the wheels spinning in the heads of the triarchs and the dollar signs flashing in front of their eyes.

"What are you proposing?" Finally, after all this pomp and show, they asked the question Father had been waiting for since he arrived. With a dramatic wave of his arm, nearly hitting me, he began.

"My offer is simple— Volantis shall be recognized as the true masters of the disputed lands, free to send forth its armies and take its rightful inheritance. In return we only demand… certain concessions," Father finished with a shit eating grin.

"What does that mean, exactly?" the Center Triarch, the only one who seemed to be willing to talk out loud, asked, trying and failing to pretend Father hadn't caught him hook, line, and sinker already.

"Well, while House Targaryen is ready to accept Volantis taking its rightful place as master of the Disputed Lands, we do demand a small part of it, just a trifle really. The western coastline of the disputed lands, going say… 30 miles deep," he said.

"That would give House Targaryen complete control over the Stepstones," the center Triarch stated with a raised eyebrow, as if they didn't all know that already. "It might be hard to convince the senate to go along with it, with how much Volantis's trade interests would be… at odds with such an arrangement," he said carefully.

"And what do you believe would serve to appease the Senate?" Father replied with a lazy smile.

"Trade guarantees in the Stepstones. A reduced tariff for Volantene shipping," the most said.

"It might be hard to convince my Velaryon partners to go along with it, with how much their trade interests would be 'at odds' with such an arrangement," Father said in reply, slight mockery in his tone.

"Likewise arrangements could be arranged. Say certain tariff rights for all Velaryon shipping in Volantis. Mayhaps even a common tariff to apply the same to Velaryon and Volantene ships by both sides," the man replied.

"I believe such an arrangement would go a way toward pleasing my partners," Father replied. If by pleased you mean there is an incremental chance Corlys won't murder us, then yes, it will 'please' him, I thought hiding a grimace. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea we ever had.

"Albeit, another matter that would go a long way into appeasing my allies would be the issue of finances. Such a treaty will no doubt cut Braavos' funding of our campaign, therefore it would be of great gain to acquire the monetary and logistical support of Volantis, lest we be forced to… renegotiate with Braavos," he said carefully.

"And I take it that were we to do so, Braavos need not be involved in the campaign any longer," the center asked, noticing both the carrot and the stick.

"But of course," Father declared with a smile.

"That would be… acceptable, but that would be considerable support for your campaign that might require several concessions," the most replied.

"Name them," Father said, pretending not to care.

"Support requires support, and we do not desire to have our armies fight long drawn out sieges. Should the enemy prove craven and hide behind walls, we will require dragons to make short work of that," the most said.

"Done," Father said in reply.

"Furthermore, there is the issue of slavery," the center said. Oh fuck, please tell me we aren't about to reenact the negotiations that led to the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850. If Father even tried, I was ready to interrupt.

"Volantis acknowledges the… quaint peculiarities of Westeros when it comes to the institution. However, we will demand that in regards to Essos and the Stepstones, Westeros will not interfere in it, like by, say, for example, freeing galley slaves passing through the Stepstones," the most finished. It wasn't as bad as I feared but it was still bad.

"That can be arranged, though Volantis' support better deliver for such a high demand," Father said in reply.

"Be at ease. As you have already seen, if you possess eyes, Volantis's wealth will be more than able to bear such trifles," the man said with a dismissive wave.

"One more thing!" I called, when Father looked to be almost done. "While we understand Volantis' respect for Westerosi views on the institution, no such understanding was provided by the Lyseni, nor the rest of the Triarchy. We demand Volantis pay heed to that, restrain itself from enslaving any Westerosi, and emancipate those possessed by them upon her victory." Father looked at me, annoyed, then contemplative.

"Yes, that will also have to be on the table," he replied. "As will be the freedom and safe transport to Bloodstone of all the Westerosi slaves Volantis possesses as of now."

"That is asking a lot," the most said.

"The Westerosi as you know, like slavery not. If we are to give concessions on it, so must we demand concessions of our own. And besides if Volantis's wealth is truly limitless, surely it can afford to compensate the losses of its slave owners," Father said with a smile.

There was a pause then, and for a moment I feared we had overstepped. Finally though the Center Triarch replied, in a calculated voice.

"So be it. But should that be the case, we also demand that House Targaryen acknowledge our dominion over the island of Lys in perpetuity, not just the disputed lands Lys controls, and military support in taking the island," the most said.

"Agreed," Father replied with a smile. "Though this does remind me, there is one more thing…"

==

The treaty was ratified in the Senate only days later, with enormous pomp and an even more enormous list of names and titles. Almost the moment it was ratified, father and I received a swift and sudden departure celebration. The sheer feeling of "would you kindly fuck off" was very strong, especially in the rather distinct lack of titles read off to us.

I didn't have any intentions of sticking around, nor did Father, so after another round of showboating on our dragons by flying around the city four times, we set back off towards the west, new treaty signed and 'guarantees' established. All there was to see now was if Volantis would uphold their agreement, or if they were as trustworthy as Napoleon.

It took days to return, flying across the vast expanses of plains that marked Western Essos. It gave me even more time to think about what I'd really done here, and whether or not it was a good idea. Looking around I saw father's shit eating grin was still firmly plastered on his face. Okay, maybe not the best idea. I gently turned Vermithor a bit further away from Caraxes just to get that image out of my head.

After multiple days flying, we finally returned to the Narrow Sea. We encountered no "pirate" ships along the return trip. Though maybe pirate ships would have been better, given I spent the whole day thinking of all we had done. Braavos was going to be pissed.

In the end, my thoughts only ceased their endless rushing when I finally caught sight of Bloodstone, thankfully not on fire, or Melos'd. Before I could begin landing, Father insisted we do a lap around the small town that marked his capital. Great, as if Corlys didn't have enough to be annoyed about, now Father is showing off.

As we landed, a crowd slowly formed just outside of the clawing distance of the dragons. Most among them were the looks of wonder and confusion amongst Father's army, alongside the significantly more upset looks upon the faces of Laena and Laenor, who shoved their way to the front. Ignoring all of this, Father smoothly dismounted Caraxes and strutted over to the Velaryon siblings, clearly proud of everything we'd- no, he'd accomplished.

"Ah, my young cousins," he said, directing a wink towards Laena. "Where might I find your father? I feel we have urgent business to discuss." Bile grew at the back of my mouth at that one, though I couldn't put my finger on exactly why. Before I could contemplate the pros and cons of ordering Vermithor to incinerate him, Laena spoke up.

"He'll be waiting for you in his solar," she said, in the most deadpan tone I had ever heard from her. She clearly wasn't impressed. Father took it in stride, however,

"Wonderful," he said, waving for me to follow him. All the words and thoughts in my head fell away as I fell into the practiced routine of following quickly. Guards rapidly made way for us as we made our way through the manse in silence. If it was possible, Corlys seemed even less impressed than Laena when we walked in, and Father hadn't even said anything yet.

At the tap of the door shutting, Corlys rose to his feet. "What in the name of the fucking Others were the pair of you thinking?! I would expect this kind of harebrained thinking from children. Part of me wanted to point out that I was technically still a child by Westerosi standards, but a fading voice in the back of my head screamed that it was a terrible idea to do so.

"Come now, Corlys," Father said, turning back on his 'slick diplomat' mode. "Surely, you can see the advantages. With Volantis plaguing them from the east, the Three Whores will have fewer pirates to throw against us. This can only benefit us."

Corlys rolled his eyes. "Of course it can't! No, now it will be the Braavosi raiding our shipping lanes, and pirates speaking in Braavosi accents harrying our shores! They will not soon forget this betrayal, and we can say farewell to any succor coming from them, along with two of my new ships and a large sum within the Iron Bank!"

"Corlys, that money will easily return from the trade concessions we won from Volantis for your ships," Father rationalized. Corlys openly facepalmed and groaned loudly, as if Father were one of his children instead of his wartime ally.

"Do neither of you understand what a grave betrayal this is?" Corlys asked slowly. "Don't answer, Daemon, I know you don't, but I expected better of you, Lucerys!" My face went red and I tried to look anywhere but at the Sea Snake now. "You have flagrantly shattered one of our most essential alliances, one all but sealed in blood, to make an arrangement with a city utterly reviled by the Westerosi, including those fighting for us! And hoping to appease me, you wrote up a trade deal, without informing me, attaching my name and reputation to your betrayal. What is to stop me from taking my ships and returning to Driftmark? Leave you here on these islands with your precious Volantenes, see if they'll still work with you?" he finished coldly.

Father's grin dropped, as his arms crossed. "That would be your right, Lord Velaryon," he said, his cold voice returning. "And yet, should you do so, you lose either way. Should this venture fail, all of the money, men, and time you delivered will have been for naught, and your name would be 'blackened' all the same. Yet, should you withdraw and the venture succeed, all of that gain will leave you with nothing, as tolls rise for your ships and leave your trade withering." The last piece was left unsaid: if Corlys remained, then neither of those things would happen. For minutes, nothing was said, and silence reigned within the solar. I imagined Corlys was debating the merits of simply stabbing Father here and now. Granted, I was probably next in that case.

"You'd best pray that your new alliance pays the dividends you promise," Corlys finally said, his age showing on his face for the first time since I'd seen him. "I will be meeting with the Prince of Pentos in an effort to salvage that alliance. But mark my words, Daemon. If you ever attempt something like this again, Bloodstone may no longer be safe for you or your son." A chill shot down my spine at the not-so-thinly veiled threat.

"I think, Lord Corlys," Father said, his jovial personality returning, "that you'll find Bloodstone can be dangerous for any who walk its shores." With that, Father turned to leave the room. After a hand gesture, I ran after. When we reached the foyer, I stopped and looked up at Father.

"I need to go find Laenor," I said. "I… must thank him for looking after Baela," I lied quickly, suppressing the true reason I wished to speak with him. It'd been wracking my brain since we'd left. Father nodded and left the manor, the mention of my sister seeming to spur him to go and find her himself.

With a spring in my step, I ran through the manse and made my way to Laenor's room. Without thinking much, I knocked on the door, going over and over again in my head what I would say to apologize, before I gave up and simply called out.

"May I enter?" No sound came from the room for several moments, before Laenor's voice rang out.

"You may!" The call came from within. Wait, something isn't right here. Against my better judgement, I opened the door. As it swung open, I was shocked by movement to my left spinning, I came face to face with a glaring Laena, and she was holding a bucket. Within a moment she had swung and tipped it, dousing me in cold water. I sputtered for air as Laena stuck her tongue out at me and placed the bucket down.

"Have nought you wish to say, Luke?" Laenor said, his voice sounding smug as he placed a hand on my soaking shoulder. Oh what the fuck?!