(Tides and Canvas) Chapter 15: Boiling Seas (Patreon)

Chapter 15: Boiling Seas

108 AC, Driftmark

Corlys Velaryon had known that his son was not a normal boy. He might have been absent in the last few years from his children’s lives, due to the war in the Stepstones, but that did not change the fact that what Laenor had achieved was remarkable. The new ships alone would have been a boon to any house, but the discovery of how to make glass, especially at such a young age, was quickly convincing Corlys that his son was blessed by the Smith.

There was also his performance in the joust. Laenor had gotten quite far in the tourney, further than Corlys had expected. So long as he went past the first round and unhorsed a knight, Corlys would have been satisfied, for it would have been enough to knight the boy, something that had become exceedingly more important given Viserys’s and Otto Hightower’s schemes, specifically to turn this tourney, one meant to celebrate Corlys’s celebration and his victory in the Stepstones, into a nameday tourney for the next heir to the throne.

It was why Corlys chose to ensure that the nameday feast and the tourney events would occur on different days, hence why he delayed today’s tourney events. It wouldn’t do for Viserys and Otto Hightower to twist the truth and call it ‘Aegon’s Tourney’ or something like that, all but showing the realm that a mere babe’s nameday would supersede Corlys’s triumph at accomplishing a feat that would likely be studied for centuries, when one would look at battles at sea.

Of course, Corlys had said that this was to prepare for suitable accommodations for the young prince’s nameday, including possible nameday gifts. Truthfully, it was the argument that it would be a shame for someone to be injured on the boy’s nameday that convinced Viserys, though that small victory mattered very little, given how the royal came to his home and all but forced him to accommodate their wishes.

At least, his least his scheme with Laenor seemed to have borne fruit. He had asked his son to enter the joust as a mystery knight, mostly as a way to elevate House Velaryon without any risk, where he would unhorse a couple of landed knights and become one of his own.

And yet, Harwin Strong and Gwayne Hightower were seasoned knights who had participated in many tourneys, and they had fallen to his son’s lance. The fact that Otto Hightower’s son had perished and that his daughter, the Queen, had her favour taken as ransom by his son, amused Corlys greatly. His son would likely lose to Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, which was an honour for a boy who was not yet a knight.

And now, even in the very nameday feast that Viserys had forced him to have for his whelp, his son managed to render most of the lords of the realm speechless with his gift, a painting that Corlys would admit to have found himself staring at for far too long, though he was not alone in that regard.

The painting itself was quite large, but its contents were unlike anything he had seen before. It depicted a dark sky that almost looked in motion, akin to a liquid just beginning to stir, its surface turning in slow, heavy swirls. And from that shifting darkness there emerged the subtle illusion of a great dragon that looked almost as if it was made of the dark sky itself. It was not drawn directly, but rather formed from the very motion of the paint, where the deeper strokes gathered into the shape of its head and wings, and its maw stood open as a void darker than all the rest, breathing the same black flames that it was made of, flames that almost seemed to flicker every time he looked at it.

The painting held a certain presence, one that was similar to the one that Laenor had gifted Corlys before his Campaign in the Stepstones, that of the Merling King, one that was certainly captivating. His wife had apparently removed it from the Great Hall after sailors had come there to pray to it, causing too much of a commotion, so she hung it in his solar, though Corlys did not mind it much.

However, while the painting of the Merling King radiated the power of the sea, in a way that Corlys almost felt like he could smell the saltwater and hear the sound of the waves, whenever he approached it, this one radiated heat and passion, danger and death. It did not feel as natural as Corlys’s painting, at least not completely, and it seemed that the King was affected greatly, staring at it while both looking pale and awed.

He walked slowly towards it while holding his firstborn, his gaze admiringly, and finally, he broke the silence that stifled his halls with just a murmur, “Balerion…”

It was but a whisper, and yet the hall was so quiet that the sound resonated across the entire room, with a torrent of murmurs following this reaction. Corlys himself found the comparison to be strange. He remembered the Black Dread, that terrible and terrifying creature, that once resided in the Dragonpit, and yet, aside from the colour, he did not think that the painting resembled any dragon in particular. However, that did not change the fact that the King seemed almost shaken by the sight.

At least, he had for a few moments before he quickly realised where he was and righted himself, bursting into a loud and boisterous, and most importantly, forced laughter as the lords of the realm looked at him, “I must say that this is magnificent work indeed, young Velaryon. Does it have a name?”

Laenor hummed to himself, seemingly deep in thought, “I have not thought of it, Your Grace, but one name does stand out to me, if I were to grant it as such. The Song of Fire.”

A fitting name. That had been Corlys’s first thought, for the entire painting could be interpreted as a mesh of black flames that coalesced into an immense dragon, but what was more surprising was the way that the King took a step back and stiffened, which was followed by him choking on his own spit.

When he stopped coughing, Viserys was noticeably paler. “A fine name, young Laenor. A fine name indeed, for fine work, for I cannot think of a greater gift for my son. Your talents are a credit to your house and to your blood.”

Given the way that the man had not even looked up to his son’s face, or to Corlys’s, even, who happened to be his host, when he spoke to them, his eyes not leaving the painting for a second, as if fearing that it would disappear at any time.

Laenor bowed his head and answered dutifully. “You honour me, Your Grace.”

The king had not even seemed to have heard Corlys’s son’s words, and it was only when his Hand had walked up and whispered something in his ears that he stiffened and spoke up loudly, addressing these halls, “You did not boast, Ser Corlys, when you spoke of your son’s talent. Let it be known that Driftmark’s gift shall hang in the Red Keep. Prince Aegon will grow beneath the shadow of Balerion once more.”

Corlys placed a hand upon his son’s shoulder, happy at the compliment, before they both bowed and returned to their table. As he peered up to the hungry looks on most of the guests dining in his halls, he murmured to his son, “Don’t accept anything. Tell them to come see me instead.”

His son nodded in silence, and they watched as the rest of the nobles presented their gifts to the prince. Unfortunately, for all of them, Viserys’s attention seemed to be taken by Laenor’s painting, which he had spent most of his time stealing glimpses at.

He could already hear it, the displeasure that most of the lords of the realm felt at the disrespect shown to them by the King, especially given that they paid a small fortune each in Spicetown for each gift. He knew this as he had asked Vaemond to gather a report from the merchants, and there had been a race to buy the most expensive items in the markets.

Finally, the gift-giving had ended, and the dance began, started by Corlys himself and his wife. Looking at her, she looked as beautiful as she had when he married her, and he found himself lost as they danced, with the rest of the lords quickly following them. However, it had not taken long to realise that something was off with her, “You have been surprisingly quiet tonight, Rhaenys.”

The Queen Who Never Was stiffened, and Corlys spied her taking glances at Laenor’s painting, and he continued, “I know that our son’s work is breathtaking, but I must admit that I would have preferred to speak with my wife during the dance.”

His wife looked embarrassed for a moment, “It only reminds me of…” She quickly steeled herself and shook her head, “Did you ask Laenor to paint this?”

Corlys scoffed, “No, I only asked him to give the prince something that would be remembered. I did not expect… this.”

Rhaenys scoffed, “Is that so? This is not the first time that you have hidden schemes from our son.”

Despite his best efforts, his face took the form of a grimace, not having expected the statement. Rhaenys easily saw through whatever façade he had tried to hide behind. “Did you truly think that I would not recognise my own son riding in the joust?”

“I simply did not wish to worry you,” Corlys spoke up carefully, not wishing to rouse the temper that always lurked beneath his wife’s composed expression, “You must admit that you would have stopped me as well.”

Vaemond had reported to him much of the happenings of Driftmark during his absence, and while most of it was great, he had worried slightly regarding his complaints of Rhaenys coddling Laenor, especially. Corlys’s plans for his son could not afford to be stopped by this possibility, and so, he had not informed Rhaenys of his plans. He had hoped that Laenor would simply say that it was his idea to be part of the joust, after he unmasked himself. And he hadn’t expected anything like this during this nameday, which hardly qualified as a scheme, if he were honest.

Alas, his wife didn’t seem to be convinced, “I admit that Laenor needed to earn his spurs soon, and the fact that he was not squired to any knight would have made things… difficult. And so, perhaps I would have agreed with you. Perhaps not. We shall never know, especially with the spectacle that you just made of him.”

As they danced, the Sea Snake looked at his son, who was obviously clumsily fending off Jason Lannister and running to dance with his sister. He would need to learn eventually how to handle such things more gracefully.

His wife must have also noticed Laenor’s discomfort. And so, he whispered to her, “Our son is the talk of the realm. Every lord will seek out one of his paintings to treasure for generations. Tomorrow, he shall be knighted before the King and Queen, after jousting with a Kingsguard. There will be songs of him, and of this day. I would have been overjoyed had I been in his place in my youth.”

“He is not you, Corlys,” Rhaenys hissed back.

That struck a chord in him as he looked at her in shock. She continued furiously, “Laenor loathes fighting, husband. He has learned to overcome this over the years, but I know that he would not have entered any part of a tourney randomly, just as I know that painting is something that he treasured, and now something that he would do on a whim. So, tell me, what did you do to convince our son to do this?”

“He came to me, a few days after my return, and asked me for Castle Driftmark.”

Corlys could almost see his wife’s mind working, connecting the events that occurred, and yet, before she could answer, a brawl started at the side of the hall that took their attention. Apparently, some Riverlanders were fighting to dance with Princess Rhaenrya. The guards quickly separated the brawl, and thankfully, there would likely not be anything more than a visit to the Maester.

To his surprise, when he looked up, he noticed that Laenor was dancing with a girl who was not his sister and was smiling widely. If he remembered correctly, the girl was a Blackwood of Raventree Hall. It was a shame that a match with her would not be advantageous in any way. They had no ports, no exports that would interest him, and no great influence over the Riverlands.

Princess Rhaenyra, on the other hand, was a much more desirable match, though Laenor would need to compete with more than half of the heirs of the realm, though perhaps he would have an advantage after tomorrow, as the princess had shown herself to be quite drawn to the Mystery Knight in the joust. Then again, Otto Hightower would never risk strengthening House Velaryon and would easily convince the King not to entertain such a match.

His wife poked him in the ribs and gave him a reproachful look, “Let him have his fun, Corlys. It is not common to see him interact with a peer his age, aside from his sister and the Lonmouth boy.”

Corlys rolled his eyes but answered nonetheless, “As my lady wife commands.”

Rhaenys’s eyes almost twinkled in amusement before hardening once more, “So, regarding your bargain with Laenor…”

She did not finish her sentence, but she did not need to, for giving someone, even his son, Castle Driftmark, was no easy feat. But then again, Laenor did impress him greatly and had proven himself to have great potential as the future Lord of Driftmark. No matter what anyone would say, his decision had absolutely nothing to do with the way his wife looked at him. Not at all.

And so, the answer came surprisingly easily to him, “It seems like Castle Driftmark shall have a new lord tomorrow.”

His wife gave him a small smile, and she twirled quickly while she danced, “Let us rid ourselves of schemes tonight and simply enjoy ourselves. It had been some time since we last danced with one another.”

She was right, of course. It had been some time since they had. Corlys tightened his hold on her waist just slightly, guiding her through the next turn as the music swelled, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to forget about the nobles and royalty that surrounded him, only on his wife, his princess, and their dance.

AN: This story is still relatively new, so if you'd like me to continue it, please let me know in the comments what you think of the rewrite so far.

Anyway, I know that this chapter was pretty slow, but, to be honest, I couldn’t really figure out a way to make it as exciting. Things should pick up a lot in the next chapter, though, which will be the beginning of my plans for Laenor. Also, I’m not sure about the painting’s description. I didn’t want it to be specific with it, and I did describe it from Corlys’s perspective, which was not the intended recipients. The idea was to make Targaryen perceive it a bit differently, at least, people with Targaryen blood, since this is technically Laenor’s dream in painting form, though I’m not sure I pulled it off.

Also, I am planning on uploading more of this story starting next week (outside of normal uploads). I have a bit of a backlog of chapter drafts for this story that I’ll try to go through when I can. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.