1.07 - Aelyx

Aelyx – 07 ​

I had imagined my first visit to my family's ancestral home more times than I could count. Until a few months ago I never would have considered that the first time I would set foot on the island would be for a wedding. But it was a wedding I was here for. More specifically I was here for my father and cousin's marriage. Although I had known that this was inevitable the moment that Laenor perished on that dock, I had hoped to convince my father to delay the marriage for at least a year. Unfortunately, when I approached him about the potential optics of marrying Rhaenyra when both were still in their morning periods, I was rebuffed. I carefully shoved aside my suspicions about their eagerness to marry, the wedding would already create enough of a scandal as it was, and there was no need for the groom's son to make it worse by accidentally insinuating something.

Craning my neck, I looked down at the island below me. Unlike the depiction I vaguely remembered from the show, Dragonstone was far from barren. The volcanic soil had created a swathe of highly arable farmland than ran around the island resting between the coastal fishing villages and the foothills of the volcano. Swooping low I scattered one of the many flocks of sheep doting the landscape. Unlike the Dragonpit in King's Landing or the Nest on Driftmark, Dragonstone did not possess a dedicated structure for housing dragons. Instead, the riders tended to simply turn their dragons loose on the island, allowing them to make their lairs where they choose. The wild dragons tended to make their homes deep in the interior of the island along the slopes of the dragonmount, while those who had a rider typically settled near the keep.

On the ground, I spotted a large dragon of red lounging beside a smaller beast of gold. Caraxes and Syrax curled up beside one another. I angled Vhagar downward towards the two. Both looked up at the approach but neither stirred beyond that. I set Vhagar down a hundred feet or so from Caraxes and Syrax. I unchained myself from the saddle and clambered down the side of the dragon. Upon reaching the ground, I gave Vhagar a reassuring pat before I began the short trek toward the castle. I had barely made it a tenth of the distance when I saw a group of riders headed toward me. As they got closer, I noted that the front rider was leading another horse beside his mount. I patiently waited for their approach and they soon reached me and reigned to a stop. Their leader raised a hand in welcome.

"Ser Aelyx, I am Ser Mychal Brune, I serve in Princess Rhaenyra's household guard. I have been ordered to escort you to the castle."

I nodded, returning the greeting. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser Mychal. I take it this horse is for me." I indicated the riderless equine.

"Indeed, it is Ser." The knight from Cracklaw Point responded. So, saying he maneuvered himself and his horse my mount was freed from the small clump of horsemen. Stepping forward, I placed a foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. Once settled I glanced at my escort curiously.

"The horses aren't bothered by the dragons?"

"Most of the horses from the Princess's stables have become used to the smell of dragons. Although I still wouldn't bring them closer than a hundred yards." He graciously replied. As we rode toward the castle, I engaged the man in idle conversation and found him a pleasant companion. The small talk allowed my mind to wander and as it had often done over the past month my thoughts turned to Laenor Velaryon. Or more specifically his death. A closer investigation of the crane had revealed that the cracking sound I'd heard was the result of a broken pully, the shattering of which sent the load of crates plummeting towards the dock. As for the crane operators, they were nowhere to be found. Multiple witnesses had seen several men sprinting from the area and the harbor master gave the names of those who'd been working the crane that day. Their flight was not an indication of guilt, they might have run upon realizing who it was they had accidentally killed, rightly fearful that accident or not the Lord of Driftmark would have made them pay for his son's death with their lives. Lord Corlys had placed a bounty of a thousand dragons per head, but I doubted the men would ever be found. Between Spicetown and Hull, over a dozen ships had departed the island that day. They could have jumped on any one of them and quietly slipped into the semi-transitory population of a hundred different ports.

In the days following Laenor's death, I had repeatedly turned the events over in my head, trying to come to grips with what had occurred. In the end, I had come up with three different explanations for the events. The first possibility was that Laenor's death was a genuine accident. Indeed, had I not known that in another life Laenor would have been murdered by Qarl Correy, this is what I would have believed. The second and third possibilities both revolved around my father organizing his death. While I doubted, he could have engineered the exact sequence of events that I witnessed, he could have arranged for his more disreputable acquaintances to shadow Laenor with the goal of arranging an accident. Those hypothetical assassins could have bribed the dockworkers to sabotage the crane, with the men unaware of whom they were killing until it was too late. Alternatively, he could have stuck a deal with a magical practitioner to cast some sort of blood curse on Laenor that had resulted in the accident. I found the last explanation the most dubious.

The simple truth was that I did not know, and I would likely never know. I had not confronted my father beyond casting him a few suspicious and accusatory looks. There was no real point to it, if he had arranged the death, he would never admit it, not even to me. And if he hadn't, well there was nothing quite so awkward as falsely accusing your father of murder. In a twisted way, I almost needed to believe that Laenor's death had been at my father's hand. If it wasn't the implications were almost too terrifying to contemplate. Both Laenor and Laena had died on schedule as it were. Laena I could begrudgingly accept as I now lived in a time and place where childbirth was a leading cause of death for women. No amount of foreknowledge could change the fact that beyond knowing the importance of sterilization I had no idea how to safely deliver a baby. On the other hand, if I had truly prevented my father from organizing Laenor's murder only for him to perish in an accident, did that mean that the universe was somehow correcting itself? That everyone had an appointed time to die and nothing I did would change that?

I shook off the thought. No, my father had murdered Laenor to clear the way for his marriage to Rhaenyra I was certain of it. This of course uncomfortable realization that I was no longer comfortable around my father. I had long know known that he was a ruthless killer. A man who would destroy whatever and whoever stood between him and his desires. But it was different when he murdered someone I knew and liked. As I rode through the gates of Dragonstone, I came to a final resolution. I would stay for the wedding and long enough to see my sisters settled in their new home, but after that, I would leave. I would depart the island and take up King Visery's offer to visit King's Landing. I'd been born on Lys before my father moved me to Driftmark, then to Bloodstone, then to Pentos, and finally back to Driftmark. It was time for me to explore the mainland of Westeros. After King's Landing, I intended to tour the continent. In my previous life, I had participated in many a discussion about the systematic inability of the Black's to properly cultivate allies. Perhaps Vhagar landing on their front lawns, when the Greens could only boast of Sunfyre, would remind a few people of the oaths they had sworn.