20 Chapter 20: A Crown of the Narrow Sea - 109 AC

Inside a meeting chamber located on the isle of the Grey Gallows, Clement found himself amidst a gathering of lords who had lent their support to the conquest of the Stepstones. Consumed by frustration and anger, his face contorted in an expression of discontent, he forcefully pounded his fist upon the table before him.

"My lords," Clement began, his tone sharp yet tinged with an undertone of deference, "I implore your forgiveness for my forthrightness, but I simply cannot condone the notion of Prince Daemon ascending to the title of 'King of the Narrow Sea.' We have yet to accomplish numerous vital tasks within this place, and deliberately antagonizing our neighbors should not be one of them."

"I, along with my army, have successfully claimed dominion over these lands," responded Daemon, his voice steady and composed as he leaned nonchalantly against the chamber's wall. "I possess every rightful claim to be crowned as the ruler of this region."

"Your army of sellswords that is only loyal gold, you mean?" Clement retorted, his brows furrowing with disapproval.  "No, I will not have any of this. The Triarchy still exists, and Dorne doesn't like it when the Seven Kingdoms threaten them."

"The Triarchy would not dare to launch an assault against us in the foreseeable future," Daemon asserted confidently.

Clement scoffed dismissively. "Such a belief is dangerously naive for a man of your stature, my prince."

A wry smile danced upon Daemon's lips as he strolled toward the table where Clement was positioned. "You stand alone in your dissent, Ser Clement. Should I assume the mantle of a king, I shall tolerate no opposition."

Arching an eyebrow challengingly, Clement met Daemon's gaze head-on. "Is that a threat?"

"Caraxes still grace these shores," Daemon remarked, his eyes ablaze with a thirst for bloodshed. "In an instant, I could unravel all the progress you have made, Ser."

"Then I invite you to try, my prince," Clement proclaimed, his head held high with unyielding resolve. "I am certain Vhagar would relish the opportunity to confront your worm."

Daemon's countenance contorted in a disapproving scowl. "But Vhagar is not under your command, is she, Ser? Presently, your lady wife lies helpless in bed, laboring to birth your child."

Clement chuckled in response to the taunt. "Surely, you understand that a dragon is not a slave. Do you honestly believe she would remain idle as you reduce the very isle upon which my wife resides to ash?"

"Then perhaps my sword shall suffice to settle our dispute," Daemon declared, his hand drawing nearer to the hilt of his blade, Dark Sister.

Clement couldn't help but chuckle, finding the whole situation rather absurd. "Allow me to remind you, my prince," he interjected, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "that you were bested by Ser Criston Cole not once, but twice in a tournament a couple of years ago. And here you stand, believing you could survive a duel with me once I'm through with you." His words hung in the air, an unspoken challenge. 

Daemon responded with an audible chuckle, though his irritation was evident. "That was in the past, ser. I am certain that circumstances will be different today," he retorted, his voice laced with annoyance. 

Clement's smirk widened, exuding a newfound confidence. "Indeed, today I am no longer a mere child. So, what say you, Prince Daemon?"

Before the tension could escalate further, Corlys intervened, putting an end to their verbal clash. "Enough," Corlys cut them off both. "I will not allow you all to invoke distress among our men."

"I will not have this on my isle, Lord Corlys." Clement stated, stepping away from Daemon. "If you are so inclined to crown him, a clear affront to the king and our neighbors, then do so elsewhere. But be mindful of the consequences, for I will not face another war, alone no less."

"Then what do you truly want, Ser Clement? For yourself to be crowned king? I will gladly give it to you." Daemon taunted.

Ser Clement cast his gaze upon the prince once more, his countenance momentarily betraying a flicker of contemplation. However, in the end, he resolutely shook his head. "No, as I have previously stated, such an endeavor would prove futile,"

"Rest assured, Ser Clement, if the Triarchy dares to mount a retaliatory strike, we shall stand beside you," Corlys interjected. "You need not harbor concerns of facing this battle alone; such apprehensions are but mere figments of your imagination."

A faint smile played upon Clement's lips as he responded, subtly altering the manner in which he addressed Corlys. "I am grateful that you share this sentiment, good-father," he acknowledged, his voice laden with a touch of gratitude.

"Very well," Daemon acquiesced. "In that case, I shall claim my coronation amidst the shores of Bloodstone, rather than within this isle. However, it is imperative that you and your men pledge your unwavering allegiance to me."

A smile graced Clement's face as he retorted. "I pledged my allegiance to you when I embarked upon this war, my prince. You need not be worried about it."

In a sudden turn of events, the door swung open, and an esteemed Maester made his entrance, bearing tidings of Lady Laena's current state and well-being.

With an air of nonchalance, Clement expressed his sentiments to Prince Daemon, his words resonating with an underlying sense of playfulness. "Regrettably, it seems that I am unable to humbly kneel before you, Prince Daemon. For I have a cherished wife awaiting my return."

With Clement walking away from the council, Daemon just looked at him, chuckling at himself, seemingly amused by the situation, though with a touch of annoyance.

======

Standing upon a window, Clement saw as Caraxes flew away from the island of the Grey Gallows as he held a babe in his arms, crying softly as he moved around, trying to feel his surroundings. The sky was clear today, but his room remained full of midwives and a maester, after Laena had just birthed her and Clement's children. Yes, more than one child.

"Prince Daemon is not a man you can challenge and not earn the ire of." said someone inside the room. It was Princess Rhaenys, who visited Laena upon the birth of her children. She was holding the other babe in her arms, cooing it gently.

"He knows the consequences of what he's about to do." Clement said. "At the end of the day it's just a childish squabble. With the king ignoring his brother, and his brother bringing more trouble to the king. Of course, your husband is petty too, revenge for not doing anything on the Stepstones. And it'll probably be me who needs to clean up their mess."

Clement turned his gaze away from the window, his footsteps echoing as he made his way toward the tub, brimming with frigid water. Nestled within it was Laena, her wet gown clinging to her form, her countenance pallid, her disheveled hair cascading untamed, and her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Clement lowered himself, assuming a position at eye level with the woman, presenting her with their newborn child.

"I find it incredulous that, for my first childbirth, I have brought forth twins," Laena uttered wearily, cradling her offspring and tenderly stroking his downy head. "Tell me, mother. Is it going to be easy next time?"

"Targaryens have a storied legacy of arduous childbirth," Rhaenys responded serenely, her voice a gentle lullaby as she continued to croon to her grandchild. "Nevertheless, I am confident you shall prevail. Have you pondered upon names for these two?"

"Well, being identical twins, discerning between them proves to be quite the challenge," Clement nervously chuckled, his fingers affectionately combing through Laena's tresses. "I had only thought of a single name, and given the circumstance of twins, it seems a revision is in order."

"I want Valyrian names this time." Laena said, her tone demanding.

"Very well," Clement sighed. "Daeron and Daelon, what say you to those?"

Laena shook her head, a smile playing upon her lips. "That, my dear husband, strikes me as an uninspired appellation."

Clement, searching for an alternative, proposed. "What if we consider Maegon and Daelon instead?"

Rhaenys, ever the sharp observer, interjected with a discerning tone, "That first choice bears a striking resemblance to Maegor, does it not?"

An air of disappointment enveloped Clement's voice as he lamented, "In that case, how about we combine one Valyrian name and one of my own choosing? Let us opt for Daelon and Edwell. Look, I am bad at names, Laena."

Laena chuckled softly, her amusement shining through her eyes as she turned to her mother, whose lips curved into a delicate smile mirroring her own. "How about Aemon and Gaemon? After their great-grandfather, and Gaemon the Glorious."

"Indubitably, my dear. Your ideas surpass the ones I had in mind." He nodded in agreement, fully embracing the names Laena had proposed. "Very well, our sons shall be called Aemon and Gaemon. I shall summon a Maester to dispatch the tidings to both Oldtown and Claw Isle."

"A moment, you two." Rhaenys interjected with a thoughtful tone. "I want to know what it is to be done about their birthright."

"It's not me who gets to decide that, good-mother." Clement stated, standing up from the side of the tub. "It's the king."

======

Once more, King Viserys found himself occupying his seat in the chamber of the small council. Anxiety and confusion etched deep lines on his countenance, the weight of the realm heavy upon his shoulders. Meanwhile, the assembled men, their presence shrouded in silence, patiently awaited the moment when Viserys would voice his concerns.

With his hands firmly planted on the table, the king inquired, "What did Daemon dare to call himself?"

In response, Otto Hightower offered his insight, "Your grace, Daemon claimed the title of the king of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. Lord Corlys Velaryon, as the one who placed the crown upon his head, received the support of his allies who knelt before the prince. It seems Daemon is forging his dominion as a realm of sellswords."

Humming thoughtfully, the king mused, "So, he fancies himself a king now, does he? And what of the cessation of hostilities? What will become of our trade routes?"

Tyland Lannister spoke up, "The war reached its culmination a year past, your grace. As for the impact on our shipping lanes, it remains uncertain how Daemon intends to address it. Nevertheless, I highly doubt they will be unduly disturbed."

The news elicited a weary sigh from Viserys. "At least that brings some solace. Let him indulge in his royal playacting across the seas, for in doing so, he shall cease to be a vexation upon my court."

However, Lyonel, ever vigilant and astute, interjected, "Your grace, I must caution that Daemon's audacious posturing may ensnare him and his allies in a web of trouble. Should he persist in his provocative endeavors, our already strained relationship with Dorne shall further deteriorate. The Martells will undoubtedly perceive this occupation as a menacing encroachment upon their lands and may—"

"Lord Lyonel, the Martells are of little consequence," Otto interjected, his gaze returning to the king. "The truth remains, your grace, that Daemon's actions once again pose a threat to your sovereignty. Be it Dorne or the Triarchy, his reckless behavior only engenders animosity with our neighboring realms."

Asserting his perspective, Lyonel argued, "Yet, it was the Triarchy that instigated the conflict, lord Hand. Daemon is merely responding to their aggression."

Arching a quizzical eyebrow, the king addressed Lyonel, "Are you implying that my decision to abstain from the conflict is questionable?"

"Never would I dare, your grace," Lyonel hastily reassured, bowing deeply. "But we cannot dismiss the fact that Daemon has rid our kingdom of a pestilence that has plagued our trade for countless years. His declaration of kingship may be seen as a challenge to both Dorne and the Triarchy. If left unresolved, it could ignite another, more devastating war, imperiling the lives of your brother and once again plunging the Stepstones into a maelstrom of chaos. Naturally, our trade would suffer grievously once more."

"I see." Viserys hummed, seemingly tired of hearing the arguments. Viserys responded with a weary tone, indicating his growing weariness with the ongoing arguments. "In that case, Lyonel, what course of action would you propose? The deed has already been accomplished."

Lyonel offered his counsel, emphasizing the necessity of a diplomatic approach. "At this moment, your grace, diplomacy is the only suitable recourse. While the Triarchy may be beyond salvaging, we can at least assure Dorne that Daemon's presence in the Stepstones poses no threat to them."

"Words spoken from us to them are nothing more than fleeting gusts," Viserys asserted. "I cannot dictate Daemon's actions, Lyonel."

"Then we must seek a voice of reason within his retinue, your grace," Lyonel suggested.

Viserys raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And who might that be?"

Lyonel glanced at Otto, who frowned in response but proceeded to speak nonetheless. "Prince Daemon and his entourage have encountered a... disagreement with Ser Clement, your grace."

"Ser Clement?" Viserys displayed a keen interest. "What is the nature of their disagreement?"

"The very same reason that brought us to this discussion, your grace," Lyonel explained. "Ser Clement yearns to avoid further conflict and desires to focus on consolidating his newly acquired territory."

"Then that is a root we could use," Viserys acknowledged. "Very well, dispatch a raven to the Grey Gallows and elucidate the course of action he must undertake."

The Grand Maester nodded dutifully. "It shall be executed promptly, your grace."