The shipyards of Driftmark were a symphony of labor—hammers against wood, ropes tightening against sails, voices barking orders—all moving in perfect rhythm with the tide. And today, one particular ship stood ready to leave its moorings.
It was newly built, the first of its kind under the Dragon Tide Consortium, and fitted with every advancement Rhaegar had implemented. Stronger hull reinforcements, improved rigging, improved sail, and most importantly—the compass.
A maiden voyage to test its capabilities.
And, because fate was a cruel mistress, Rhaegar had been invited.
"Invited" being a generous term.
"You should experience firsthand what your improvements have wrought, my prince," Corlys had said. "A true understanding comes from the sea itself."
And that had been the end of it.
Which is how Rhaegar Targaryen, someone who had no business being on the open water, found himself aboard a ship, regretting every choice that had led him here.
The ship cut through the water smoothly, the wind catching its newly designed sails, propelling it forward at an impressive pace.
The crew worked in disciplined efficiency, each man moving with the certainty of someone who had spent a lifetime on the sea.
And then there was Rhaegar.
Who had spent a grand total of twenty minutes on a ship in the entirety of his two lives, and was currently experiencing all twenty of them at once.
He gripped the railing tightly, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. The ship rocked gently with the waves, but to him, it felt as though the entire world was lurching violently beneath his feet.
Baelon, who had come along because he enjoyed watching his son suffer, stood beside him, entirely unbothered.
"You look pale," he noted, far too amused.
Rhaegar exhaled slowly. "I feel pale."
Corlys, standing near the ship's stern, observed him with a knowing smirk. "Not all men are meant for the sea, my prince."
"Oh, what a revelation," Rhaegar muttered in annoyance, closing his eyes briefly. "Do continue imparting such wisdom, my lord."
Baelon chuckled. "You're the one who insisted on redesigning the sails, yet you can't stomach the result."
"I made it better for sailors," Rhaegar said through clenched teeth. "Not for myself."
Despite his internal suffering, Rhaegar forced himself to focus on the actual reason for this voyage.
The compass.
The captain of the vessel, an experienced Velaryon sailor, stood beside the ship's navigator, the compass secured within a brass casing at the stern, where it was carefully monitored.
Corlys turned toward the captain. "Does it hold true?"
The captain adjusted their heading slightly, glancing at the device before nodding. "Steady, my lord. No matter the turn, it points north as promised."
Rhaegar, trying not to think about how unsteady he himself felt, managed to straighten.
"And how does it compare to traditional navigation?" he asked.
The captain exhaled thoughtfully. "Normally, we must rely on the coastline, the sun, or the stars. But on a cloudy day? A storm? That is when a navigator earns his keep."
He gestured toward the compass. "With this? Even a fool could find his way home, my prince."
Baelon smirked. "Our sailors are in luck then."
Corlys chuckled turning to Rhaegar. "A remarkable thing, truly. But tell me, my prince, would you like to command the rudder?"
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes. "Are you asking because you genuinely think I should or because you wish to see me humiliate myself?"
Corlys's smile was deceptively sincere.
Baelon, unhelpful as always, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Go on, son. You are the architect of this voyage. You should experience it in full."
Rhaegar huffed. "Fine."
This cannot be worse than simply standing here. He told himself.
He was led to the steering oar, a large tiller that extended into the sea.
At first, it was simple.
Then the ship hit a larger wave.
And suddenly, Rhaegar's entire world tilted.
He tightened his grip, his stomach betraying him with alarming speed.
Baelon, watching, was struggling not to laugh.
"Careful now, my prince," Corlys advised, "The sea is not so easily tamed."
"No, really?" Rhaegar muttered, trying to keep his expression neutral.
The ship lurched slightly, and Rhaegar let go immediately, stepping back.
"That's quite enough of that," he said deadpan.
The captain, ever professional, reclaimed control without a word.
Baelon sighed, shaking his head. "The first Targaryen to conquer the sea, reduced to a land-dweller after twenty minutes."
Rhaegar exhaled slowly. "My place is not on the water, Father."
Corlys, still smirking, folded his arms. "A shame. I was considering making you a captain, my prince."
Rhaegar shot him a flat look. "That would be a quick way to sink your own fleet."
Baelon chuckled. "Wise of you to know your limitations."
"Wisdom gained through suffering," Rhaegar muttered his expression unpleasant.
By the time they turned back toward Driftmark, Rhaegar had accepted the humbling truth.
He would reshape trade. He would dominate commerce. He would revolutionize the way Westeros saw the world.
But he would do so from solid ground.
The ship docked smoothly, the crew moving efficiently to secure it.
Rhaegar, eager to reunite with the stability of land, disembarked with as much dignity as possible.
Baelon followed, looking far too pleased with himself.
Corlys approached, a rare hint of amusement in his otherwise formal demeanor. "A successful voyage, I would say."
"For the ship?" Rhaegar conceded. "Certainly."
Baelon snorted. "And for you?"
Rhaegar exhaled. "I will be generous and say I survived."
Corlys chuckled. "That is all the sea ever asks, my prince."
Rhaegar shot him a look. "Then it should ask for less."
Corlys and Baelon only chuckled in response.
With that, they left the docks, the first successful test voyage of the Dragon Tide fleet complete.
For the company, it was the first step toward domination of the seas.
For Rhaegar, it was the first step away from sailing them until absolutely necessary.