The Velaryon House boasts the most powerful fleet and admirals in Westeros. To defeat the Triarchy, the full support of the Sea Snake is indispensable.
Rhaegar looked intently at Corlys, waiting for his reply.
"It is the duty of a servant to serve his kingdom, and I am honored to do so," Corlys responded without hesitation, placing a hand over his chest solemnly.
He continued, "My family has been greatly affected by the Triarchy's capture of the Stepstones. Your arrival here is a great relief to me."
His words were sincere, without arrogance.
Rhaegar was slightly taken aback by Corlys's willingness. Upon reflection, he realized that although the Stepstones were barren, they occupied a crucial geographic position.
If the Triarchy controlled the Stepstones, the entire shipping route would be vulnerable to their raids, causing significant harm to the Velaryon House, whose livelihood depended on maritime trade.
Corlys's acceptance demonstrated his foresight and pragmatic approach.
The exchange went smoothly. Lyonel, looking pleased, added, "Lord Corlys, I hope that after Princess Rhaenys's banquet, you can return to King's Landing with me."
His mission was to secure Corlys's support in the capital for strategic military discussions. With Corlys's agreement, Lyonel felt a weight lifted from his shoulders.
"Of course, I haven't seen His Grace in a long time, and I miss him," Corlys lamented.
He was a shrewd politician, aware that no matter how powerful his House was, they couldn't thrive in isolation. Aligning with the royal family was essential for maximizing their benefits.
"It seems you've had a productive discussion," Rhaenys approached with a tray, smiling warmly.
Seeing his wife's smile, Corlys mirrored her expression and said proudly, "Conversations among smart people are always easy and pleasant."
"You are right; Viserys has chosen a worthy heir," Rhaenys kissed her husband's cheek and whispered in his ear, "Keep in mind that the Targaryens have no shortage of both geniuses and madmen."
"Just a little test," Corlys replied softly, taking a glass from the tray and toasting Rhaegar.
He preferred personal encounters over relying on rumors to judge a person's worth. The new heir's hardline stance made the upcoming battle for the Stepstones seem more manageable.
"Would you like a taste? It's the red wine of Dorne," Rhaenys asked, pushing past her ambitious husband to hand the tray to Rhaegar.
"Thank you, Aunt," Rhaegar said, hesitantly reaching for the fragrant drink.
"Drink this, Rhaegar," Rhaenyra called from behind, carrying a glass of some beverage.
Rhaegar smiled apologetically at Rhaenys and withdrew his hand, taking the glass from Rhaenyra instead.
"Rhaegar is a lightweight," Rhaenyra teased, taking his arm. "One glass of wine and he'll miss the dinner."
"Rhaenyra," Rhaegar protested, trying to stop her from revealing too much. He didn't despise alcohol to that extent, but he preferred not to drink.
The scene drew laughter from the others.
Corlys downed his drink in a single gulp and, with the air of an old sailor, laughed heartily, "A man should know how to handle his drink, especially a Targaryen of blood and fire. Alcohol is the best fuel."
"Yes, how can an heir who can't drink entertain his advisers?" Rhaenys added, smiling warmly at her nephew.
The others, not daring to laugh too loudly, took wine cups from the tray one by one and toasted Rhaegar.
Rhaegar shook his head and smiled ruefully. Amid the laughter, the tension in the room dissipated, and the two families seemed to be on good terms again.
Rhaenys approached Rhaegar with a serious expression, "There is one matter I need to discuss with you."
"What is it, Aunt?" Rhaegar asked, remaining vigilant. Vhagar was still resting on Driftmark.
Rhaenys sighed and spoke bluntly, "You've seen Vhagar. She's the dragon of Laena."
"Vhagar is the last of the great dragons from the previous generation of Targaryens. Of course, I recognize her," Rhaegar replied, his eyes narrowing slightly, emphasizing Vhagar's rightful place in Targaryen lineage. The dragon belonged to the Targaryens, not just anyone who could claim to master her.
"I understand your point, but I'm not here to argue about that," Rhaenys said, shaking her head. "Laena is my daughter. She carries the blood of both Targaryens and Velaryons. She's back on High Tide."
"What do you mean?" Rhaegar asked, cautious about revealing his stance.
"I'm not here to plead for Laena's mistakes," Rhaenys continued resolutely. "But her daughters are of pure Targaryen blood. They should not suffer for their mother's actions and deserve their legitimate rights as part of the Crown."
"If you're pleading for your granddaughters, I may be able to help," Rhaegar said, frowning slightly. "But Laena should make her own case for them."
"She's at the castle. I can call her—"
"No need, I'm right here!" came a magnetic female voice, cutting Rhaenys off.
The side door swung open, revealing a figure of delicate dark skinned beauty.
"Laena!"
Rhaenyra's surprise was evident in her voice, her gaze reflecting a mix of emotions.
Laena had been her closest childhood companion besides Alicent.
After all these years, she had blossomed into a wife and mother.
"Rhaenyra, it's good to see you again."
Laena's features bore the strong lines of her mother, her silver curls cascading elegantly around her tall, voluminous body.
"Sister, what brings you here?"
Laenor hurried forward, a hint of nervousness evident in his demeanor.
"Why the nervousness? We only have family in the room," Laena assured, her smile softening her words as she retrieved two swaddled bundles from the maid behind her.
Observing this, Rhaenys sighed in resignation. "Well, since you're here, you might as well explain it yourself."
Rhaegar inclined his head, his gaze drifting to the swaddled forms in Laena's arms.
Noticing his interest, Laena approached, gracefully extending the bundles towards him. "Cousin, would you like to hold them?"
After a brief pause, Rhaegar accepted to hold the swaddled infants.
Laena spoke tenderly, "Father named them; the elder sister is Baela, and the younger, Rhaena."
As he held the swaddled bundle, Rhaegar's posture stiffened slightly, his gaze resting upon the two tiny beings.
To be honest, they weren't particularly adorable.
Their skin had a reddish hue, and their eyes remained tightly shut, their small bodies appearing frail and delicate.
"Eeeya..."
Apparently sensing his discomfort, the little girl named Baela squirmed in his arms, emitting a soft cry.
(Word count: 1,058)