High Tide, Chapter 42: Peace in Our Time (Patreon)

Sixth Moon, 109 AC

Viserra

Her father had died late in the third moon of 109 AC. It was early in the sixth moon now. Though many had been increasingly coming to court to pay their respects to the ailing king, the true tide of arrivals had begun arriving once his death and the date for his funeral was announced across the realm.

Every lord, great or small in the Crownlands, down to some of even the smallest landed knights had come. The great houses of the realm had all arrived, those former royal houses like Lannister, Stark, and Arryn were here, as well as the Lords Paramount, Tyrell and Tully, and Greyjoy, the Lords of the Iron Islands. House Baratheon was represented by her goodsister, Jocelyn, as Lady of Storm’s End and Princess of Dragonstone. The Lords Vassal had come as well, Manderly, Royce, Grafton, Tarth, Hightower, Redwyne, and many more.

The realm was inside this building. Every lord with a name worth anything was among those that stood in the pit alongside Viserra and her kin but there was more than just them. The remaining nobles were seated in the lowest benches closest to the pyre, and above them all eighty thousand seats in the Dragonpit were filled to the brim with all the smallfolk of King’s Landing.

No matter how her father had handled his relationship with her and her family, his legacy as the greatest king in Westeros’ history was undeniable. Not even the Conqueror could be said to have done as much as her father had for the realm. Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms, but her father had made them one.

As the High Septon finished with the rites, Viserra and her fellow riders ordered their dragons into position. Every dragon House Targaryen and House Velaryon had was in the pit at this very moment. The young Moondancer, Morning, and Stormcloud were locked in their vaults, but the remainder had gathered around the pyre of her father.

Her mother’s Silverwing, Baelon’s Vhagar, Aemon’s Caraxes, Gael’s Syrax, Rhaenys’ Meleys, Aegon’s Sunfyre, Rhaenyra’s Seasmoke, and her father’s namesake, little Jaehaerys’ Tyraxes. Her own Dreamfyre and her children’s Tessarion, Morghul, Shrykos, and Terrax were beside them as well. The Bronze Fury was present as well, now under the command of her nephew Daemon. Despite having been claimed by a new rider, Vermithor still looked solemn and mournful to bid farewell to the rider he had loved and accompanied since his birth.

The only dragon missing was the Black Dread himself. Balerion had died a few months ago, and Viserra felt for Alyssa; losing one’s dragon was a loss that she would not wish on anyone. She could hardly imagine what Alyssa was feeling to have lost her dragon and their father so close to each other. If Viserra was being honest, she didn’t want to imagine it. She didn’t even know what to feel herself.

“Mother,” Aemon said, turning around and calling to her. “It’s time.”

Their mother, the great Alysanne Targaryen, the Good Queen, Queen Dowager now, stalked forward. Her bones were creaking, as she struggled to walk with Aemon and Baelon’s help on her cane. She stared at her father’s body, well preserved with spices and linens on the pyre, for a few moments, and the entire Pit was deathly silent waiting for the old queen to say her last goodbyes.

After what seemed like an eternity, her mother finally withdrew from the pyre and once she had reached a safe distance, she turned around and called out to her dragon. “Dracarys!”

As one, Viserra and the rest of her family bonded to a dragon chorused their matriarch’s command to their own dragons. Their mounts obeyed. The flames ushered out, seeming like every color of the rainbow, red and green, blue and bronze, and many more besides. They swirled and mixed and mingled, and they did not stop until the pyre of her father had been reduced to naught but ash.

Some of her family members were in tears as the fire burned. You would think over two months would be enough time to process one’s grief, but her mother was in tears, and so were Gael and her children. Alyssa and Maegelle’s eyes were teared up while her brothers and nephews looked on, grim and stone-faced. Her own husband and children looked entirely apathetic, though she could see Daeron and Laena comforting Aegon and Rhaenyra, who looked aggrieved, though neither were crying. Saera, Daella, and their families all looked neutral.

Viserra… did not know what she felt. Part of her thought that she should feel elated, the tyrant who had started this whole feud and persecuted her family for so many years was dead. Yet at the same time, her father, the man who had raised her, who had apologized to her on his deathbed, who she had loved once, was gone. A tangled and confusing mix of emotions was in Viserra’s heart, as myriad as the flames that consumed her father’s body. If these feelings, this confusion hurt so much, Viserra would rather feel nothing at all.

Once the fire had burnt out, the royals and their kin departed first, as was their right. The Dragonkeepers led the dragons back to their vaults. Daemon was merely a Prince and her mother had grown too old to ride her dragon anymore, and so both Vermithor and Silverwing were kept in the Dragonpit now. As a mating pair, they had been observed to be more comfortable in the same vault, and so they had been given the largest vault, which had once belonged to Balerion. Vhagar, Sunfyre, and Seasmoke were also housed in the Dragonpit, as were her children’s dragons for the duration of their stay in the capital.

Aemon’s Caraxes and Rhaenys’ Meleys on the other hand, would be kept at the Red Keep from now on, and so would Dreamfyre whenever Viserra visited the city. That was the agreement she had with Aemon.

As they walked out of the Dragonpit, Viserra noticed Aemon and Rhaenys taking their spouses onto their dragons for the ride back to the Red Keep and did the same with Corlys. She looked back to check on her children, seeing them getting into the wheelhouses beside the other Targaryens, with a company of Kingsguard and Tide Guard surrounding them.

With her children’s safety seen to, Viserra secured her husband and herself to her dragon’s saddle. “Soves!” She commanded, and at once Dreamfyre obeyed, not even needing to hear the whole word before her wings began to beat.

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The next morning, Viserra walked with her hands intertwined with her husband. Such public displays of affection often raised eyebrows but she cared not. She loved Corlys, and Corlys loved her, and she was proud to show the world just how much. Their son Jace was following behind them, alone of his siblings.

Aemon and Baelon had asked to meet with them to discuss how they could resolve the differences between their houses. Corlys had commented that it was promising that Aemon and Baelon seemed to be in lockstep, it boded well for any agreement they made being kept to. Her brothers were rather ambitious, hoping to finalize the compromise before the coronation. It would quite literally be Aemon’s crowning accomplishment if they succeeded.

The Lord Commander was waiting at the solar when they arrived and he opened the door for them before they could even knock. When Viserra walked in with Corlys however, she was surprised to not see her brothers Aemon or Baelon as they expected but rather her mother. She was seated in the chair that had belonged to her late father, and her back was turned to them as she stared at the tapestries on the wall.

“Mother,” Viserra called out. “What are you doing here?”

Finally turning around, she answered. “Ah Viserra. Forgive me, I asked Aemon and Baelon if they could wait a little longer. I wanted to speak to you, in private. Lord Corlys, Jacaerys, if you would.”

Reluctantly, her husband bowed his head ever so slightly. “As you wish Your Grace. I will wait for the King and the Prince-Hand outside,” he said before departing the room. Jace turned back to look at them before he followed his father out, leaving Viserra alone with her mother.

Shaking her head, Viserra approached her mother, who had risen shakily to her feet and hobbled on her cane, still enthralled by the tapestries on the wall. As she came closer, Viserra observed her mother and realized just how old she had become.

Age was cruel. Her mother’s once flawless skin had wrinkled, her hearing and memory had faded, and after she had slipped and broken her hip a few years ago, she had had to walk with a cane. Ever since her father died, there had been a despair in her mother, that reminded her greatly of the melancholy Alyssa had once had. She did not think her mother would outlive the year.

Turning her eyes from her mother, she saw the tapestry that she was beholding and felt a pang of wistfulness. Her parents were both there at the center, in the prime of their lives, standing proudly. Aemon stood to her father’s right as he always had, the perfect heir. Baelon and Alyssa were to her mother’s left, and the rest of them were to the sides and in front. Maegelle and Vaegon were beside Aemon and Daella, Saera, and Viserra herself were in front of their mother and older siblings. Seven, she’d been so young. Only eleven years old when this portrait was made.

“This was made at Daella’s wedding, wasn’t it?” She asked.

“That’s right,” her mother answered. “It was the last time I had all nine of you gathered in one place. I remember your father had to give Vaegon a royal order to make him return for the wedding.”

Viserra shook her head disapprovingly at the memory. “He always was quite a prick.”

Her mother chuckled. “Perhaps, but he is my son. I love him all the same. I love all my children, but sometimes I wonder if I showed that enough…”

A heavy air began to lay over their conversation. Viserra tried to change the topic. “You know, I always thought this portrait was strangely incomplete. I mean, at the time Aemon had already married Jocelyn and had Rhaenys, and Viserys had been born as well, but they’re missing.”

Her mother shook her head. “Your father and I wanted a portrait that was only the two of us and our children. Goodchildren and grandchildren were excluded intentionally, not because they were not family, but because this was a special portrait just for us. You are right though, it is incomplete.”

She walked up to the portrait and placed her hands on the portrait and Viserra gasped slightly in shock. Four empty places had been left in the portrait. It had been very cleverly painted and sewn to hide those gaps unless you looked carefully.

“I don’t think any of you ever realized that there were gaps in the portrait, but they were left there on purpose. I think about them sometimes. If Aegon and Daenerys had lived, would they be a worthy King and Queen? Would they have been good older siblings to all of you? If Gaemon and Valerion had lived, might Saera and you have married them? You could have had dragons from the beginning, never having to leave the family at all, and none of this would have ever happened.”

Viserra allowed herself to dream of world where her four siblings had lived, but try as she might, she found it strange. She could not bring herself to truly imagine her life without her current husband and children. She did not wish to upset her mother though, so she said nothing.

“I hear them calling to me sometimes; Aegon, Daenerys, Gaemon, and Valerion. My lost babes whisper to me in my dreams, asking me to join them. I hear my parents and my older siblings welcoming me home, and now your father’s voice has joined them,” her mother said as she walked over to the portrait on the left.

It was a family portrait as well, with her grandparents and their children, including her young mother and father. The aunt and uncles she had never known stood beside her young and seemingly unassuming parents, with much more presence than they had had.

“I am old Viserra. Deep in my heart, I know I will not live much longer. Your father, as difficult as he was at times, he was my life. Now without him, I shan’t live much longer I think. Nor do I truly want to either. I regret that I didn’t return sooner, I wasted so much time I could have had with him because of my pride and now he’s gone,” she said, beginning to break down in silent tears.

Viserra rushed to her mother’s side and helped her back into the chair, kneeling at her feet. Her mother’s blue eyes stared into her own deep purple lovingly. Her mother tilted her head. “My dear Viserra. I called you here for an apology… and also a warning.”

“An apology Mother?” Viserra inquired, wondering what it could be. This talk of a warning gave her pause as well.

“Hearing your father apologize to you, it occurred to me. We might have made amends through our years of letters and visits, but I never truly did apologize to you, did I?”

“Apologize for what Mother?” Viserra asked, confused.

“I realized it years ago, but with us repairing our relationship, I feared reopening old wounds. Those fears don’t matter anymore; I must say it now before I lose the chance forever. Viserra, I am sorry. I was… not the best mother to you. I was unfair to you when you were growing up. Your father and I saw Saera’s shadow in you but you proved us all wrong. You are not Saera, you have long since proven to be her better and it’s our shame we didn’t see that sooner,” her mother said seriously. “I also wish that I was more supportive and understanding when I came to Tyrosh to see you all those years ago.”

“Mother, this was all forgiven years ago!” Viserra protested.

“Was it?” Her mother asked with a knowing and sad smile. “Or did you bury your resentment for the sake of your children? It was admirable of you Viserra, but you don’t have to anymore. Please, even if you don’t accept it, at least acknowledge my apology instead of pretending.”

As her mother spoke, Viserra did indeed feel the old wounds reopen, but sometimes you had to let it hurt before you could let it truly heal. She had buried the feelings, never truly resolving them. Rebuilding her relationship with her mother and siblings had been more important. Her house and children had come before her own hurt feelings.

“Thank you, Mother. Even many years late, I… I appreciate it,” Viserra said, and she felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

“You are most welcome my daughter,” her mother said sweetly. “And now my warning. You were not the only child I should have done better by. Beware your sister Gael. The years have made her most resentful of me, and by extension you and your house.”

Viserra nodded slowly. “I noticed that she’s rather hostile to us, but this sounds like it goes even deeper than I thought.”

Her mother nodded sadly. “I was so angry at your father all those years ago, it took me… time before I realized that I had left Gael behind in the Red Keep.”

Viserra was not unaware of this, but it was the first time her mother had outright admitted it to her. She sighed. “Mother…”

“I should have been better, I know. I’ve made many mistakes Viserra, and this is one of them. I should have tried harder. Your father did not wish to let me take Gael and by the time he relented, Gael no longer wished to come with me. She resents me for abandoning her, and she rebuffs my every attempt to reconcile with her. I fear that her resentment of me extends to you as well, perhaps for taking me from her.

“And we must not forget; your father raised her alone and he spent many years teaching Gael and Daemon, and even Rhaenys and Viserys as well. Who knows what he filled their heads with? Ever since you took Tyrosh, your father struggled to keep the family together. Myself and your eldest siblings opposed his will, and in our place he taught those who would listen to him. I’m afraid that Aemon will find it even harder to control the family than your father did.”

Viserra pinched her forehead in frustration. “So what are you telling me then? It’s pointless to hope for reconciliation? For an end to this pointless feud?”

“I’m telling you what your father should have all those years ago, instead of taking you and Corlys by surprise with his announcement on the Stepstones. Temper your expectations Viserra. Restrain your husband’s pride and ambitions. No matter what compromise you come to with Aemon, it may be a promise he cannot keep if Baelon and he cannot rein in the young ones. I’m asking you to be ready for that possibility. I understand that you are expecting much, deserving of much, but you and I both know that if peace is not solidified at whatever cost, tragedy awaits our family.”

At that her mother bid her farewell and was helped out of the room by one of the Kingsguard. Viserra was left to think, alone in her father’s solar. She had allowed herself to believe that reconciliation could be easy once Aemon was king, and now her mother was warning her otherwise?

Before Viserra could process her thoughts, the door opened and her husband and son walked in with her brothers. They were laughing and japing with each other, and she found herself heartened to see that even Jace was as well. He had always seemed a little distant from their Targaryen kin.

“Apologies for our tardiness Viserra. Mother wanted to speak with you first, and then the four of us got rather caught up in an amusing story your husband told us,” Baelon explained with a charming smile that would have made her teenage self swoon.

“It was quite uproarious,” Aemon agreed heartily as he took his seat.

They paused for a while as Aemon sighed in disbelief. “We’ve been discussing what the formal reconciliation between our houses could be for many years now, and now that we’re here at last to finalize the agreement, I find myself a bit in disbelief that we are finally ready to bring peace.”

Viserra watched everyone in the room carefully. Jace’s expression was guarded, Corlys was wary but hopeful, and her brothers seemed to be convinced that they had the perfect compromise and plan all worked out. And yet her mother’s warning ringed in her head. Where was Rhaenys? Corlys and her had brought their heir, where was Aemon’s?

Aemon’s jovial expression became more serious. The smile did not fate, but his eyes focused. “This is what I am prepared to offer, and this is what I expect in return. We can negotiate on the details,” he began.

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Gael

Syrax outpaced Vermithor at times because she was nimbler, but the larger dragon beat his wings with power and strength, often catching up to her with ease. Gael shook her head in resignation and amused dismay as Vermithor overtook Syrax and her and sped onward to the Dragonpit. The Bronze Fury roared his triumph as he landed and Gael saw a victorious smirk on her husband’s face as she landed Syrax beside Vermithor.

“This is unfair,” she protested with a chuckle. “You are far too good at this.”

“What can I say?” Daemon replied cockily. “I’m a natural.”

The Dragonpit’s great bronze-iron doors were opened by the Dragonkeepers, and Vermithor and Syrax marched into the Pit with them still mounted atop of them. As they entered into the Pit’s centre, the Dragonkeepers helped them dismount and tended to their dragons, slowly leading them back to their vaults.

She noted the joint enclosure given to Vermithor and Silverwing and shook her head. Her mother hadn’t been able to ride Silverwing in years but the dragon had stayed by her side on Dragonstone or at the Red Keep during that time, as was her right as Queen. However, recent circumstances had changed that. Her mother was only Queen Dowager now, and more than that, she was likely to die soon. Viserys had his eyes on Silverwing after her mother passed but he was not the only one.

Gael had helped her husband claim her father’s dragon barely a day after he had passed. Daemon had waited many years to claim a dragon and she did not begrudge his impatience, her father would surely have understood. More important than propriety however, had been the danger. Something had told Daemon and her that they had to secure Vermithor immediately.

When they had gone to claim Vermithor, sure enough, they had found their kin, Aegor and Aemma, lost exploring in the castle, and accidentally stumbling too close to Vermithor’s stables. Daemon had immediately gone to claim Vermithor then while Gael and the guards ensured that Aegor and Aemma did not approach anywhere near the Bronze Fury.

Unfortunately, there was not enough evidence to charge them and Uncle Aemon was hesitant to destroy relations with their family’s closest remaining vassals and their own kin without it. Aegor and Aemma had walked free, but there was a tension in the relationship between their houses that had not existed before.

After that, Vermithor and Silverwing had both been moved to the Dragonpit, and the only dragons that would remain at the Red Keep henceforth were Caraxes, Meleys, and Dreamfyre. She disapproved of that last one but it was a minor matter not worth fighting for.

“Our races will become more entertaining once Jaehaerys is old enough to ride Tyraxes to Dragonstone and back with us,” Daemon said as they began to walk out from the Pit.

“Perhaps our daughters might join us as well,” Gael said, noticing Moondancer, Morning, and Stormcloud in their vaults as she always did.

“Perhaps they will.” Daemon’s voice was tinged with hope and pride.

Having ridden their dragons the whole morning, the tired pair took a wheelhouse back to the Keep instead of riding horses. When they arrived back in the Keep, they passed by the training yard on their way to Maegor’s Holdfast and their chambers wherein.

Gael could not help but smile at what she saw. Their son Jaehaerys was in the yard with his cousin Aegon teaching him swordsmanship stances. She felt no small amount of pride and joy at the sight, taking heart in the bond between the cousins. It was only fitting in her mind. Aegon was currently squiring for Daemon and perhaps their son might in turn squire for him one day, strengthening the bonds between their family further.

The boys were not alone. Rhaenyra and their daughters were watching them, and unfortunately the Velaryon brats were present as well. Gael’s smile thinned. Laena Velaryon was with their girls cheering Aegon and Jaehaerys on and her brothers, Lucerys and Daeron, were training against each other and the castle guardsmen nearby. Gael wondered briefly where the eldest Jacaerys was, before she decided that she didn’t actually care.

Daemon scowled at the sight of the sword strapped to the hip of Lucerys Velaryon. He had been ill-tempered and envious ever since he had realized that the swords the Velaryon twins bore were none other than Seafang and Allegiance; famed as the second and third Valyrian steel swords.

It grated on Gael that House Velaryon had acquired so much more Valyrian steel than they the last scions of the Forty Families possessed, but her husband’s bitterness was much more personal. Despite being by far, without equal, the finest warrior in their family, Daemon did not have a Valyrian steel blade. House Targaryen had only two to give anyway to begin with, if one did not count the family dagger that Rhaenys now held.

Blackfyre was the Sword of Kings, and it was her brother Aemon’s right to wield it. One day it would be Viserys’ or Rhaenys’, or mayhaps it would pass over them entirely to be bequeathed on Aegon. Dark Sister however had been held by Baelon ever since their father had granted the blade to him when he had been knighted.

There was a bit of a disagreement in the family on who should have Dark Sister. Aemon and Rhaenys were not subtle in their desire for tradition to be kept and for the blade to pass to Viserys as Baelon’s elder son, but Gael thought that unfair. Viserys was already to be King Consort, either he would wield Blackfyre or his son would as King in his own right. It would be avaricious and unfair for him to have Dark Sister as well.

Some said that Valyrian steel was worth kingdoms. Aemon was given a kingdom and Blackfyre, and so their father had given Baelon an inheritance of his own; Dark Sister, a piece of the family heritage that he could call his own and pass down to his own children. Baelon was a warrior more than worthy of the blade, and so was Daemon. If like Aemon, Viserys was to have a kingdom and Blackfyre, if only by marriage, why not could Daemon be given Dark Sister as Baelon was as an appanage?

It was the least of what they deserved. Rhaenys had happily given Rhaenyra a dragon the day she was born, seeming to not care about the ramifications of her decision. Gael had restrained herself and her husband from giving their daughters their own eggs. Rhaenys was to be Queen one day, she would be Lady of Storm’s End, her son would wield Blackfyre, her children both rode dragons; must she have Dark Sister as well? How was that fair?

Gael was glad to have been able to help Daemon claim Vermithor, at the very least he had that part of their inheritance. She hoped Baelon would give him the other. She would never doubt Baelon and Alyssa’s love for Daemon, but their relationship was difficult at times because of their many numerous disagreements on the Velaryons. It all came back to that damnable house didn’t it?

The Velaryon brats finally noticed their presence. Daemon glared at them and Gael looked in their eyes and knew that they felt the same for all they tried to keep it hidden. She felt similarly to Daemon, but she had little desire to cause a scene or ruin her children’s day. Shaking her head, Gael turned and led Daemon away with her hands before he stewed in his anger and jealousy even more. He was a nightmare to deal with when he got into those moods.
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Dinner that night was blissfully free of infuriating Velaryons and opportunistic Arryns and Mootons for once. A rare occasion ever since their kin had all come crawling back at her father’s summon like the jackals they were. No for once, it was only them, only House Targaryen, as it was meant to be.

Aemon was seated at the head of the table, his wife Jocelyn and their mother was to his left, and Baelon and Alyssa to his right. For reasons Gael could not comprehend, she had been seated next to her mother on Jocelyn’s left and Daemon was beside her of course. Rhaenys and Viserys were opposite of them beside Alyssa. The children filled up the remainder of the table to the left.

Begrudgingly, Gael conceded to her mother’s attempts to make small talk with her. As always their conversations were stilted and awkward, but Gael would not make her mother’s mistake. She would give her these moments at least, if only to prove that she was better than her.

Finally, as the servants took the finished dessert plates away at the end of dinner, Aemon hit his glass gently with his spoon, getting all of their attention before he rose to his feet. “Thank you all for supping with me tonight. It is ever so wondrous for me to eat with you all. I see in each of you, the faces of my closest kin. We are House Targaryen, the House of the Dragon!”

At that, Daemon called out. “Fire and Blood!” They all chorused him with pride, their pride to be Targaryens, the greatest house the Known World had ever seen.

Her brother smiled. “Ever since Father died, I find myself thinking on his last words to us. He asked us to put our grudges and animosities aside, to reconcile and mend our family. If the House of the Dragon does not stand united, it will fall divided against itself.”

He looked at each of them. “The House of the Dragon does not consist solely of those with the Targaryen name. Our kin may not have our name, but they have our blood, and they are no less of the Dragon then we are. For nineteen long years we have been at odds with House Velaryon, our kin, our oldest and closest allies and vassals. No more I say, in memory of our father, Jaehaerys the Conciliator, let us reconcile with our estranged sister and her family.”

Aemon’s rhetoric was impressive, but Gael still found herself dubious at the idea. Still, reconciliation wouldn’t be all that bad if it was on House Targaryen’s terms at least, and as Aemon said, it would honor their father’s last wishes. She could see begrudging acceptance on Daemon’s face, unreadable neutrality on Jocelyn, Rhaenys, and Viserys’ faces, and excitement on Baelon, Alyssa, Aegon, and Rhaenyra’s. Strangely enough however, her mother looked resigned and defeated, and Gael did not understand why. Was this not what she had wanted for so long?

“Earlier today, Baelon and I had a meeting with the Velaryons to discuss what the details of this reconciliation could be. We have not finalized our agreement yet, but the points that we have already agreed to are making me believe that this really could be it, a compromise that will ensure peace for our families. Peace in our time.”

What? Why had none of them been informed? Gael saw that Jocelyn and Rhaenys looked particularly surprised, though they hid their anger. How could Aemon and Baelon negotiate with the Velaryons without even consulting them first? After they had criticized their father for his handling of the Stepstones matter for so many years, they went and acted alone just like he did?

Hiding her surprise and upset, Rhaenys spoke. “Forgive my interruption Father, but what points are these, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Aemon smiled widely. “I’m glad you asked Rhaenys. It was a long and hard day of negotiations, but I was able to secure certain concessions and agreements. The very first thing discussed was of course the sanctions and other such restrictions both of our houses have placed on the other. They shall naturally be mutually removed at once; family should not seek to hurt each other’s fortune.”

Gael could begrudgingly agree to that. As much as it pained her, even her father had privately admitted that the sanctions had eventually become useless. Smuggling had become rampant and the Velaryons had often simply traded through middle men like Braavos and Pentos or their allies in Westeros. All the sanctions had done at that point had been to preserve their pride at the expense of the people of the realm. It was pointless to keep them any longer.

“Furthermore I am pleased to inform you all that the Velaryons have agreed to swear fealty to the Iron Throne in Tyrosh, placing the Archonate of Tyrosh firmly under our control and ending this uncertainty over the Velaryons’ independent status.”

“And in return?” Gael asked. “Viserra and Corlys will not have given up their hard-won prize for nothing.”

“Corlys will remain as the Archon of Tyrosh and keep his styling as His Excellency instead of being demoted to a lord,” Aemon admitted. “Tyrosh and the Velaryons will have a great deal of autonomy and privileges, including the right to rule their territory as they please with their peerage system and their own laws without our interference, save for certain broader laws such as the ban on the First Night.

“Furthermore, they will have the right to wage war in Essos and Sothoryos, to protect their borders and trade routes from pirates and slavers, without first consulting the Iron Throne, and this would not be considered breaking the King’s Peace. The Iron Throne in turn will not be obligated to defend Velos, Viserria, or those trade routes, House Velaryon will see to their defense on their own but we will receive a portion of their revenues in taxes from House Velaryon.”

“Will we still be receiving taxes from them to begin with?” Gael asked, growing very worried.

“Of course!” Aemon said assuringly. “Though there will be some changes to how they are collected. Velaryons have argued that their autonomy and differing methods of organization mean that the Iron Throne’s tax collectors and customs officers will have difficulty. Henceforth the Iron Throne will not directly collect taxes or tariffs and customs from any part of House Velaryon’s domain, instead the Velaryons will collect all of these incomes on their own, including their taxes from their feudal vassals, and gather them in Tyrosh and Driftmark, from which they will send the Iron Throne its share.”

“Am I to understand that these taxes are at reduced rates?” Gael asked, her fists clenched tightly in her lap as she tried to control her anger. What on earth were Aemon and Baelon thinking?

“That is correct,” Baelon said. “The Velaryons have also agreed to stop minting their coinage in Tyrosh if the Seven Kingdoms’ own currency system is reformed. Certain things like decimalisation and the exchange rates will still have to be discussed further for full reintegration of the Tyroshi and Westerosi currencies and economies.”

“What of the Stepstones? There’s no way the Velaryons did not demand them,” Viserys asked.

“They did,” Aemon confessed. “I have agreed to right my father’s wrong here. It started this feud all those years ago and now we shall end it. Lord Otto shall be dismissed as Governor of the Stepstones and gifted a handsome sum of monies to thank him for his years of loyal service. Henceforth, he and all his fellow Stepstones lords will swear fealty to Tyrosh and Corlys will be named the Lord Paramount of the Stepstones.”

“What of Veil?” Jocelyn demanded, her voice was curt and stern.

Aemon took his wife’s implicit accusation in stride. “The Velaryons asked for Veil as well, as a de jure part of the Stepstones. I denied them as they are getting the rest already. Veil will be officially transferred to the Stormlands to remove the disputes over its jurisdiction. You need not worry there Jocelyn,” he reassured his wife.

Begrudgingly Jocelyn backed down.

A thought occurred to Gael. “What of the tolls and other revenues of the Stepstones?”

Baelon answered smoothly. “As the Stepstones will now be part of the Velaryon domains, its revenues will fall under the previous agreement we have with. All their revenues and taxes will go first to Tyrosh for collecting and accounting and then the Iron Throne’s share will be sent here.”

Aemon continued, “Hightower was already collecting the toll revenues and taxes like this, this is simply a continuation of that. The Velaryons will be entitled to the same powers and privileges the Governor had, only their position is now hereditary as was originally promised long ago.

“Furthermore, I have offered Lord Corlys his old place on the council as Master of Ships to make amends and regain his expertise for our royal fleet. He may choose to take the position himself or nominate one of his relatives to hold it in his stead as his deputy.”

Gael sank into her seat, feeling a numbed shock fill her body. Had her brothers gone mad?

“Any marriages or betrothals Grandfather?” Her nephew Aegon asked hopefully. His sister Rhaenyra looked eager beside him.

“Worry not my dear grandchildren; your wishes have been granted,” Aemon said. Gael straightened in her seat, her eyes trained like a hawk.

“We have been discussing the matter for many years, and it should come as no surprise that I have consented to Aegon and Rhaenyra’s marriages to Laena and Jacaerys Velaryon. It has been agreed that Laena’s dowry will be significantly greater than Rhaenyra’s and include a very handsome sum of gold, silver, and other exotic treasures and also trade rights and stakes for the Iron Throne in the Velaryons’ companies and trade routes. Rhaenyra will be married to Jacaerys in return, and she will one day be the Lady of the Tides and Tyrosh. A fair and equal trade binding our houses together; an eldest daughter for an eldest daughter.”

Aegon and Rhaenyra looked pleased, but Gael could only feel her own horror and anger growing as she struggled to keep control of herself. Beside her, Daemon was clenching his own fists so hard they were starting to swell red.

“Gael, Daemon,” her brother said, addressing the two of them. “I also raised the possibility that Baela and Rhaena could marry the younger Velaryon boys. It will keep the blood pure, and since they would be staying within our two houses, we could let them finally claim their dragons.”

“No!” Daemon’s response was visceral and full of rage.

Aemon recoiled slightly, though the poise and guise of a king never left him. “I don’t understand why you’re so hostile. Lucerys and Daeron are the finest possible grooms for your daughters, in every possible way. What complaint could you have?”

“Complaint?” Daemon shouted. “This is my complaint. This disgrace of a deal that you have arranged? It is not peace. It is a humiliation. It’s you bending over backwards for the Velaryons so they can fuck you in the arse! It’s you making all of us showing our belly to the Velaryon snake so they can devour us. Weakness of this like hasn’t even been heard of since Aenys himself!”

“Daemon!” Her brother Baelon rebuked and his voice was full of rage and fire. “You go too far. Remember who it is you are speaking to!”

“Does he?” Daemon demanded. “He’s supposed to be our king! The head of House Targaryen! He’s meant to protect our interests, not theirs! Not the Velaryons who betrayed us and made us laughingstocks in the eyes of the realm!”

“I am protecting our interests! The Velaryons are brought back into the fold, and war is averted!” Aemon shouted back at Daemon.

“How are you protecting our interests? Rhaenyra marrying the Velaryon brat? Rhaenyra is in line to the throne after her brother! If any tragedy befell Aegon, the Iron Throne our ancestor forged will be usurped by the Velaryons! And even if it did not, how can the Velaryons deserve to have a Queen and a Princess as Lady of the Tides after everything they have done? They spit in the face of our generosity, break our most sacred laws, and prance around like they are kings in all but name! Now you want to reward them for this defiance with the Stepstones, royal marriages, and special privileges? The realm will laugh at us as they laughed at Aenys!

“No, I refuse to accept this. I swore an oath to my grandfather when he asked me to claim his dragon, that I will serve the interests of House Targaryen all my life, and I do not mean to break my oath to him.”

“On what grounds do you deny your king Daemon!?” Alyssa demanded.

“As the rider of Vermithor Mother, as a prince who loves his family and his house. I cannot allow this to stand.”

“You’re insignificant Daemon. You may have your concerns but your arrogance is unacceptable. You, a mere fifth in line to the throne, dare to insult your King and question his decisions so openly? If you were any man but my brother’s son, I would have you hanged where you stood!” Aemon declared, outraged.

Gael made to rise at that; she would not tolerate threats to her husband’s life from her foolish brother. Before she could do anything, her mother suddenly rose to her feet with a fury. “Enough! Cease this meaningless bickering at once. Sit down Aemon! You too Baelon, Alyssa, and especially you Daemon, insolent grandson of mine!”

All of them recoiled at the sudden fury of the family’s matriarch. “My husband is barely put to rest and now all of you are disrespecting his final wishes and memory with your actions! Shame on you all!”

She made to say more but she suddenly collapsed back into her seat, exhausted, Alyssa rushed to her side. Rhaenys rose at last and spoke finally for the first time since she had inquired on the details of Aemon’s foolish agreement with the Velaryons.

“Father, Daemon was out of line, but he raised fair points. I was exceedingly shocked to find out that you had gone behind my back to negotiate without me, and promise my children’s hands in marriage without my consent. I must insist that I am at the next negotiation with the Velaryons. Surely we can find a better compromise?”

“I concur,” Viserys said, rising to his feet as well. Jocelyn followed suit, and Gael and Daemon both declared their intent to be at the next negotiations as well. Frightened and upset by the furious argument, the children were half in tears and scared. The only real support Aemon had left was Baelon. Alyssa was now dragonless and their mother was dying and unable to support him much longer. Even his own wife and daughter had turned against him.

“Very well then.” The look of defeat and tiredness on his face was almost enough for Gael to forgive him his foolishness and weakness. Almost.

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Author’s Note: Hope you guys liked this chapter! Lmk if there’s any typos or grammar mistakes you noticed. As you can tell, reconciliation is not going to be smooth at all in family with such clashing egos as House Targaryen. Stay tuned for the next chapter!

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