Four days had passed since the council had convened on the matter of the Ironborn ships, their grotesque cargo drifting into the Arbor, and King Jaehaerys had summoned Corlys Velaryon to King's Landing. The Red Keep's council chamber, a grand hall of stone and marble shaped by Andals and their gods, was stark and heavy with tension. Black banners bearing the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen hung above, flickering in the torchlight, a reminder of the blood that ruled here.
King Jaehaerys sat at the head of the long table, his hands folded upon the smooth wood, face schooled into cold determination. Queen Alysanne sat beside him, her gaze thoughtful yet strained. Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon flanked their father, their postures rigid, their eyes sharp with unspoken resolve.
The doors opened, and in strode Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, salt-worn and weathered from the trials of his seventh voyage, his cloak still damp with sea spray. He bowed low, a flicker of calculation in his eyes as he rose to meet the scrutiny of the gathered lords.
Jaehaerys' voice was low, measured. "Welcome Lord Corlys. Sit and Speak. What have you seen of the Draceryos' territories, what do you know of the extent of their capabilities?"
Corlys' gaze swept the chamber, lingering a breath too long on the two princes before settling on the King. "Your Grace... I have seen and heard much, though little I can claim to fully understand."
He began, his tone steady, yet edged with a weight that made the air seem thinner. "From the ports of Yi Ti, Leng, and the Summer Isles, I have heard whispers, of the Dragonlords and Valyrian nobles who rule the Lands of the Long Summer with fire and blood. They do not answer to no one but themselves. The merchants of Yi Ti refuse Westerosi coin, their trade bound by quiet agreements with the Draceryos family. Qohor and Essaria speak of them in hushed tones, not daring to speak against their allies… or masters."
He paused, the silence in the chamber tightening. "There are those who say no assassin dares take coin against them. Not the Sorrowful Men of Qarth, nor the Pentoshi catspaws, nor even the Faceless Men of Braavos. The House of Black and White long thought untouchable was struck in the dead of night almost a century ago, bodies of half their number strung up from their rafters, their blood used to write a single message upon their walls: Do not test the Blood of the Dragons. After that, no contract against Draceryos or their vassals has ever been fulfilled."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Baelon's jaw tightened, his fists clenched. Aemon's expression darkened, his knuckles whitening on the table.
Corlys continued, his voice like a tide rising against stone. "Their fleets... formidable. They sail ships unlike any we know. They call it; Man O' Wars, large and vast, able to easily and comfortably man 1,000 and armed to the teeth. They also have Galleons, Frigates, Carracks, and many large War Galleys, some vast and practically all heavily armed. They have scoured the seas of pirates and slavers, either taking their lives… or turning their foes into chained laborers. Even I, on my voyages to Yi Ti, have found my trade hindered, merchants refusing my goods, citing their ties to the Draceryos family."
He hesitated, then added, his tone low, cautious, "There are rumors, too, of dragons. Many times they have been cited over the centuries. That the Draceryos hold two dragonlord families in vassalage. But what I know for a fact is that both the Draceryos family and the Belaerys family have dragons, I do not know if the Mataeryon family does. Though how many dragons they have combined, I know not of. And Balthagar Draceryos, the current patriarch of Draceryos is said to ride a dragon unlike any other, its scales gleaming like molten metal, a terror in the skies. The dragon of his family, since his ancestors time, Maelarr son of Aurion."
Jaehaerys' face tightened, a flicker of something, anger, perhaps, or pride, sparking in his eyes. "Rumors, Lord Corlys. Whispers and shadows. We are the blood of the Conqueror, the blood of Aegon who forged this realm. We will not cower before stories spun by sailors and fearful merchants."
Corlys inclined his head, though his lips pressed into a thin line. "Your Grace, I advise caution. There is much we do not know. To underestimate them..."
Baelon's voice cut through, sharp and impatient. "Enough caution. We are too the blood of the dragon. Let us remind them of it."
Jaehaerys' tone was final, cold as steel. "I will ride Vermithor. Aemon will ride Caraxes. Baelon, you will ride Vhagar. We will remind them that we are not so easily defied."
A hushed dread settled over the council, the weight of their decision hanging in the air like the stillness before a storm.
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The solar of the Draceryos manse within the Demon Fort was vast, its walls carved of dragonstone, relief sculpture with various pigments; from gold to crimson, and even shades of purple. The scuplutre carvings are of dragons, battles, magic, and much more. Many were historical depictions of battles, like the battles against the many times the Ghiscari of the Slaver Cities have tried to wage war against the Draceryos family. Yet there are some even Balthagar could not make out, for they are too strange to comprhend, why is there a depiction of his ancestor, Aurion, fighting a flaming man, to this day it has baffled him.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting long beams across the polished table where Balthagar sat at its head. The banners of House Draceryos, blood-red dragon with wings spread, laurel and flaming sun upon its chest, hung proudly behind him, a symbol of power reborn.
Around the table sat the lords of Draceryos' vassals: Vaelys Belaerys, Baenarr Mataeryon, Ghaelion Gelionar, Maerys Kostagar, Rhaemon Tyvaros, Laenor Embaryen, Kaella Magyros, and the newly introuduced noble family heads of Tolos, Mantarys, and Elyria; Gaelyx Azantone, Tyraevar Zobridar, Malaemar Ilvar. Their expressions were a mix of respect, wariness, and anticipation. The heirs and families, those not seated here, were in the gardens below, enjoying the warmth of the sun before its descent.
Balthagar's gaze was sharp, his voice a quiet storm that filled the room. "The Targaryens will come. They will come in arrogance, blinded by the belief that they alone are Dragonlords. We will remind them, we are the flame reborn. You, your sons, and their sons will aid in the forging of a new Valyria. And I... I will show the world of what a Great Dragonlord family is truly capable of."
He then turned his gaze to Lady Kaella, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Send envoys to House Maegyr and House Rogare. Secure them under our banner."
A scoff rose from Vaelys Belaerys, though not at Balthagar. His lip curled, disdain etched in his tone. "The Maegyr and the Rogare... lesser blood, always scraping for power they do not hold, seeking recognition since the time of Maelarr."
Balthagar's gaze shifted to him, sharp yet composed. "And they will serve as a means to an end. They are Valyrian, holding ancient seats in Volantis and Lys. We will use them, and in doing so, expand our reach."
Kaella inclined her head, her eyes gleaming with understanding and resolve. "It will be done."
Balthagar leaned back, his presence filling the chamber like the coiled heat of a volcano. His voice cut through the air, a promise etched in flame. "In two days, I will reforge Stormbringer, the armor, and the Blood Ring. Then... I will meet the Targaryens. Alone."
Vaelys shifted, his brow furrowed. "My Prince, let us stand with you. My dragon, Aegovax is ready, and my son Aeralyx will ride on Amberion, with three of us, we will kill them."
Balthagar's voice was soft, but firm. "No. They must see me alone. Let their imaginations feed the dread of what they cannot see."
The lords exchanged glances, a silent understanding forged between them. They were bound to him, to his vision, to the path he carved through his will.
Outside, the sun slipped lower, the sky streaked with crimson and gold, the colors of flame and blood. The storm approached, and Valyria's heir stood ready to meet it.