Chapter 589: The Sea Snake’s Sigh

It was a bright morning. Rhaegar was making his usual rounds of the harbor, where the sailors were as busy as bees.

"Your Grace."

As he approached, the Sea Snake descended from a large ship, greeting him respectfully.

"How are the provisions coming along, Lord Corlys?" Rhaegar asked, noticing a herd of goats being driven onto the ship.

The Sea Snake, confident and assured, replied, "Don't worry, there's enough to feed three dragons for a month."

"That's good," Rhaegar responded, continuing to survey the harbor. He had a hunch that the Sea Snake had something on his mind.

"Your Grace, I have something to report." Sure enough, the Sea Snake leaned in slightly, taking the initiative.

Rhaegar withdrew his gaze and smiled faintly. "Tell me," he thought, curious about what the old Sea Snake wanted.

"Recently, the pirates around the Stepstones have become more rampant, seriously affecting maritime transportation," the Sea Snake reported gravely. "In my opinion, since Prince Aegon's Sunfyre has been injured, we should send a reliable fleet to deal with it decisively."

"Oh, which fleet should we send?" Rhaegar asked, feigning surprise as he glanced at the large ships in the harbor, all flying the Seahorse banners.

"As you can see, I have mobilized the entire fleet of House Velaryon," the Sea Snake said proudly. "The Smoking Sea is dangerous, but you don't need all the ships to go. Leave half of them to deal with the bandits."

Rhaegar chuckled. "That's a good suggestion." Looking at the dozens of large ships in the harbor, he realized that the Sea Snake had almost exhausted House Velaryon's resources. Leaving half of them to clear out the pirates was as much a political maneuver as anything else.

"It's all for the sake of our respective houses," he thought. 'There's nothing more to say.'

"I thank you on behalf of the sailors, Your Grace," the Sea Snake said sincerely, fully aware of the significance of his actions.

Rhaegar waved his hand and asked, "Before we set off, is there anything else you need?" The Smoking Sea is fraught with danger, and less than 10 out of 100 survivors make it back.

The Sea Snake, a mere mortal, couldn't afford to be too lenient when it came to the fleet's confrontation with the Smoking Sea and its perils. Hearing the king's question, the Sea Snake had a sudden inspiration and decisively said, "Your Grace, I have a first mate who once saved Prince Maekar and me. He is an upright and loyal young man."

"I know. Addam, right?" Rhaegar's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing a shift in the conversation.

"Yes, that's him," the Sea Snake admitted readily but struggled to find the right words. "If you will allow me to accompany you to the Smoking Sea, he will command the fleet of House Velaryon. I believe he is more reliable than a young girl like Rhaena."

Rhaegar's smile faded, sensing something amiss. The Sea Snake's large hands clenched, and he hesitated before adding, "Rhaena is still too young to command the unruly naval forces. She is more suitable for a position in the palace."

Rhaegar frowned, scrutinizing the man before him. The hesitation in Corlys's words was telling.

Rhaegar's tone hardened. "Lord Corlys, Rhaena is your chosen heir. I don't think the Lord of Driftmark needs to be proficient in sailing."

"Of course not," the Sea Snake conceded, taking a deep breath before making a final plea. "But a young girl who gets seasick before she even boards a ship is hardly the person to lead House Velaryon in the service of the realm."

The longer Corlys spent with House Targaryen, the more he saw through their intricate schemes. Compared to his granddaughter, who was only distantly related by blood, he favored his bastard, who was also of the salt and the sea.

Rhaegar caught the underlying message and responded, displeased, "Lord Corlys, Rhaena is the daughter of Laena, a dragon with blood and fire."

"That's just a little dragon that won't grow up!" the Sea Snake retorted, his voice rising unnecessarily.

Rhaegar's expression turned icy, his gaze cold. 'What a joke!' he thought. 'He had begged and pleaded to adopt Rhaena as his own so that she could inherit Driftmark after Laenor's death. Now that he had raised a capable bastard, he wanted to discard her like a worn-out shoe. What does the Targaryen bloodline mean to him?'

Rhaegar sneered, about to reprimand him, when a sudden voice cut through the tension.

"Corlys!"

Rhaenys's deep voice interrupted the conversation. Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, glancing out over the deck. Rhaenys had appeared out of nowhere, her elbows resting on the railing, staring at her husband and nephew.

"Aunt," Rhaegar greeted her, frowning inwardly. His mind was exhausted, and his guard was down. He hadn't even noticed her approach.

"Your Grace." Rhaenys nodded slightly, her gaze shifting to her silent husband. "Corlys, we haven't finished discussing what happened earlier."

"Your Grace, I still have some ships to inspect," Corlys replied, bowing before departing, feeling lost.

Rhaegar didn't stop him and looked up at his aunt, who seemed preoccupied. Rhaenys, feigning strength, changed the subject. "Daemon is back."

"I saw that," Rhaegar replied with a nod, adding, "He's very proud, not at all like someone who's suffered a setback."

Rhaenys considered this for a moment before revealing the truth: "I gave him Dark Sister back."

"I saw that too," Rhaegar responded, his eyes widening in surprise, waiting for more.

Rhaenys didn't hesitate. "Daemon is an integral part of the family. It would be good for him, and for the family, if he were to become a capable Prince of the Targaryens."

At fifty, Daemon was the most insightful among them. What he had pursued all his life was nothing more than the word "recognition." Returning Dark Sister to him and taking on the responsibilities of the Prince of the Targaryens was the only way to bind the Rogue Prince to an unbreakable yoke.

Rhaegar was quiet, lowering his head in deep thought. He had never considered making Daemon a Prince of the Targaryens. Deep down, he believed a good uncle was an unreliable presence.

Rhaenys remained silent, waiting patiently for her nephew to decide.

The waves gently lapped the shore, and the salty sea breeze blew. Rhaegar's thoughts surged, a thousand words buried in his heart, but he only said, "Give him a chance to prove himself on the Smoking Sea."

With that, he turned and left the harbor.

...

At noon, everything was ready, and the fleet set sail from the harbor.

"Roar..."

A scarlet dragon, serpentine and fierce, glided past, roaring as it leaped across the vast sea.

Whoo-hoo-hoo!

The horn sounded, and the flag of the seahorse fluttered in the wind. The Sea Snake, clad in silver-gray armor, stood solemnly at the front of the deck. The ships moved forward, forming a medium-sized fleet.

"May the Merman King bless us," the Sea Snake whispered, glancing back at the ships still anchored in the harbor. Half of the fleet had set sail, heading toward the Stepstones.

On the lead ship, a figure with silver hair and dark skin stood tall. The Sea Snake watched in awe, silently praying, 'I hope I've made the right choice and will return safely.'

"Roar!"

Suddenly, a young black dragon flew overhead, its scarlet wings flapping furiously, making the sails creak in the wind. The Sea Snake's body swayed, his gaze locked on the dragon, his emotions a turbulent mix.

Once upon a time, his eldest son had tamed Seasmoke as a child and sailed with him on the back of his dragon.

...

Topless Tower, the Queen's Chambers

"Look, Grandpa's off!"

The children were noisy and boisterous as Rhaena leaned out of the window to watch the fleet of ships departing in a flurry.

"The Blood Wyrm is so cool," Aemon said, holding Baela's hand as they both gazed up at the scarlet dragon soaring overhead.

"Okay, go play," Rhaenyra said wearily, leaning against the headboard as she sent the children off. The estrangement between the siblings was exhausting.

"Oh~" The children, sensing her fatigue, left together.

Rhaenyra sighed and struggled to her feet.

Roar!

The sound of a dragon's roar reverberated for miles, shaking the tables and chairs in the tower. Rhaenyra stuck her head out of the window, peering at the cliffs that stretched across the coast.

Hoo!

A massive black dragon stepped forward, crushing rocks beneath its sharp claws before spreading its wings and soaring into the sky. The dragon's shadow swept past, shaking the fleet below as if it were a curtain blocking out the sun. The first two dragons ahead of it were smaller and more agile.

Rhaenyra was transfixed, her eyes fixed on the tall, dark figure riding the dragon.

Knock, knock!

The door opened, and the voice of her companion, Elinda, came through. "Your Grace, shall I wash you?" Without waiting for a response, Elinda, dressed as a maid, entered, carrying a basin in her hands.

Rhaenyra leaned against the window frame, allowing her companion to comb her silver hair into a delicate braid.

"Are you all right?" Elinda asked, her eyes filled with worry.

Rhaenyra, momentarily distracted, turned to see the family sword, "The Realm's Delight," hanging on the wall. By now, the fleet had turned into tiny black dots on the sea, and the three dragon shadows had disappeared, leaving no trace behind.

As if in a trance, Rhaenyra walked over to the wall and took down "The Realm's Delight." She unsheathed the sword, its blade cold and sharp, humming as it cut through the air. She held the sword sideways, as if seeking solace in it. Gradually, her dazed mood began to lift.

'I am The Realm's Delight,' she thought, 'the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Queen of Dragons. My goal is to become Queen of Visenya. In Rhaegar's absence, I will be the one to keep peace in the Seven Kingdoms.'

"Your Grace," Elinda said, terrified and too scared to approach "The Realm's Delight."

Rhaenyra glanced back at her, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm fine."

...

The Roofless Dragonpit

"Aren't you going to see him off?"

Mysaria stood a little further away, cradling a curly-haired puppy in her arms. Laena shook her head gently, replying calmly, "Daemon is not a sentimental person, and neither am I."

"That's true. He's always gone after making a promise," Mysaria said, shaking her head with a laugh tinged with disappointment and self-deprecation.

"This time is different." Laena's voice was soft, yet there was an inexplicable confidence in her words. She lifted her pale, emaciated face, a quiet determination emanating from her.

Daemon had seen her before he left, and the two had shared a tender moment. He had made no promises, but his determination to capture a young dragon and bring it back was unmistakable.

Mysaria frowned deeply, hesitating for a moment before murmuring, "Maybe..."

...

Myr, the Magister's Palace

"Roar..." A light gray dragon shadow flashed across the sky, darting into the lush garden before curling up its massive body.

"Where is it?" Nettles, dressed in a rough hemp robe and holding a bamboo staff, emerged from the palace. She was clad in the attire of a Dragonkeeper. As she ran out, Baelon and Dany followed close behind.

With a scarred, crooked nose, Nettles shouted loudly, "Come out, you cowardly little dragon!"

"Stop shouting, you don't have to do that," Baelon said, embarrassed as he tried to stop her.

"It's okay!" Nettles raised her chin defiantly and patted the barren hillock. "We'll play hide-and-seek, and I'll chase it back to Dragonstone."

"Prince!" At that moment, Syrio appeared, walking lightly, his fluffy brown curls slightly oily.

Baelon turned around, his expression shifting to one of unease. Syrio bent down and whispered in his ear.

"What!?" Baelon's eyes widened in alarm as he exclaimed, "Braavos has sent a fleet to Pentos?"

(Word count: 1,992)