บท 8: Chapter 8 - The Last Of The Velaryons
129 AC
The Seventh Day of the Eighth Moon
The Gullet
I stood on the prow of my ship, True Heart, gazing at the waters of Blackwater Bay. The moon was shrouded in clouds, and the sky was dark, with only the torches on the various ships providing any indication of light.
It had been close to four moons since the Velaryon fleet was deployed in the Gullet to blockade and control access to King's Landing.
"Captain Daeron," a voice called out as I looked behind to see a lad of fifteen namedays.
"What happened, boy?" I asked him.
"You should rest, Captain. I should be the one keeping watch, not you," he said good-naturedly, and I laughed.
"It is alright, boy. Sleep eludes me," I said as he nodded his head and left.
"On the ship, everyone is equal, be it the captain or a seaman," I said, remembering the words spoken by my father, Ser Vaemond Velaryon.
I remembered when I was a child, how he spoke of being proud to be born into House Velaryon and being the nephew of the great Sea Snake himself.
I gave a bitter chuckle, remembering him.
"What right does a bastard with not a drop of Velaryon blood have to be the lord of Driftmark?" he had said, and the rogue prince took his head, and then the bitch who called herself queen fed his body to her dragon.
"And here I am, defending the woman who ordered the death of my father," I thought bitterly.
The Sea Snake had turned a blind eye to what happened and did nothing.
I had turned to the bottle and fought in taverns, trying to make the pain go away, but then I met the woman who would become my wife.
Hazel changed me for the better, and then came our daughter, Daenaera, and the moment I laid my eyes on her, I knew that I would give my life for her without a doubt.
There was a gentle breeze as I looked at the various ships present. At the start, the patrols were conducted with vigilance, but now, after more than four moons with no activity, the patrols had become lax as the news of the string of Green victories on land had started making the rounds. Secretly, I had been happy. The last one who deserved to sit on the Iron Throne was the whore on Dragonstone.
"I wonder when I could see my wife and daughter again," I thought somberly.
As I was lost in my thoughts, I heard faint noises coming from the distance. The sounds were distorted and carried by the wind, making it hard to discern their origin. Suddenly, the noises ceased, replaced by an ominous silence, and then I saw bronze flames flickering in the distance.
"Fuck," I cursed under my breath. It was an attack.
"Wake up! Wake up!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the deck as my crew sprang to life, roused by the alarm. Men scrambled to their positions, eyes wide with fear and determination.
The situation was worse than I could have imagined. The clouds parted, and the moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the horror before us. One by one, ships bearing House Velaryon's colors were engulfed in flames, attacked by a monstrous bronze dragon.
"The Bronze Fury," one of my crewmates whispered, his voice trembling with dread.
"The Greens have attacked," I thought to myself as I saw, in the distance, ships bearing the Triarchy's colors advancing relentlessly.
The waters of the Gullet turned into a chaotic battlefield. The once calm sea was now roiling with waves of fire and blood, the reflection of flames dancing on its surface. The mighty Velaryon fleet, known for its strength and prowess, was being decimated before my eyes.
The Bronze Fury, its scales shimmering like molten metal in the moonlight, unleashed torrents of fire upon our ships. Sailors screamed as they were engulfed in flames, their desperate cries lost in the roar of the dragon's fury. The stench of burning wood and flesh filled the air, choking those who still clung to life.
"Man the ballistas!" I shouted, hoping against hope that our weapons could pierce the dragon's thick hide. My men, loyal and brave, rushed to their stations, loading the massive crossbows with heavy, iron-tipped bolts.
The first volley was fired, and the bolts soared through the night sky, aimed at the Bronze Fury. Some found their mark, striking the beast's wings and body, but the dragon barely flinched. It roared in anger, a sound that shook the very core of my being, and retaliated with another devastating blast of fire.
Our ship, True Heart, shuddered under the onslaught. The deck was ablaze, and I could see the fear in my men's eyes as they fought to keep the flames at bay. Water buckets were passed hastily, but it was a losing battle. The dragon's fire was too fierce, too relentless.
"Captain, we can't hold her off!" one of my officers yelled, his face streaked with soot and sweat.
"Keep fighting!" I commanded, though I knew in my heart it was a futile effort. The Triarchy's ships were closing in, their sails emblazoned with the colors of our enemies. They fired their own cannons and ballistas, adding to the chaos and destruction.
The Bronze Fury swooped low over the bay, its fiery breath scorching everything in its path. More Velaryon ships succumbed to the inferno, their crews either burned alive or forced into the treacherous waters below. The sea was littered with debris and bodies, a grim testament to the battle's ferocity.
Desperation took hold. I could see my men fighting valiantly, but the odds were insurmountable. The Triarchy's forces were well-coordinated, their ships maneuvering with deadly precision. They had the advantage of surprise and the might of a dragon on their side.
"Board the enemy ships!" I ordered, hoping to turn the tide by taking the fight to them. Grappling hooks were thrown, and my men leaped onto the decks of the nearest Triarchy vessel, swords clashing with the enemy's in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
I joined the fray, my blade flashing in the moonlight as I cut down foes. The deck was slick with blood, the cries of the wounded and dying ringing in my ears. For a moment, it seemed we might gain the upper hand, but then the Bronze Fury struck again.
The dragon's massive claws tore through the rigging and masts, splintering wood and sending men tumbling into the sea. Fire rained down upon us, and the ship we had boarded was soon ablaze.
"Retreat!" I bellowed, though I knew there was nowhere to go. True Heart was our last refuge, and it too was under attack.
I fought my way back to True Heart, cutting through enemies with a grim determination. The ship was a beacon of fire in the dark bay, flames licking at its sails and hull. My crew was dwindling, many having fallen to the dragon's wrath or the enemy's blades.
"Captain Daeron, we can't hold her!" my first mate shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.
"We fight to the last man!" I responded, knowing there was no other choice. We had to make our stand here, even if it meant certain death.
The Bronze Fury descended once more, its fiery breath consuming the deck of True Heart. I could feel the heat scorching my skin, the pain almost unbearable. But I fought on, driven by a fierce resolve.
In those final moments, as the flames closed in and the cries of my dying men filled the air, my thoughts turned to my father, Ser Vaemond Velaryon. I remembered his pride, his strength, and the way he had spoken of our family's legacy. I thought of Hazel, my beloved wife, and our daughter, Daenaera, whose smile had given me a reason to live.
As the fire consumed me, I clung to those memories, the faces of my loved ones the last thing in my mind. I died as I had lived, fighting for what I believed in, even against impossible odds.
True Heart was lost, and with it, the hopes of House Velaryon. But in my final moments, I found a measure of peace, knowing that I had given everything for those I loved.
The sea claimed the wreckage of our fleet, the waters of Blackwater Bay a graveyard of charred wood and lifeless bodies. The Bronze Fury roared in triumph, and the Triarchy's ships sailed on, their victory complete.
But though we had fallen, our spirit would live on. For as long as there were those who remembered our sacrifice, the legacy of House Velaryon would endure.
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129 AC
The Eight Day of the Eight Moon
Driftmark
From the battlements of Hightide, I watched in despair as the soldiers of the Triarchy marched towards our gates. Above them, soaring ominously in the sky, flew Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, its scales glistening malevolently under the cloud-shrouded moon.
I sat in my solar with my head in my hands, the weight of my failures pressing down upon me. I had lost everything—my wife, my children, my fleet—everything I had ever cared about.
"My lord, what should we do?" one of my household knights asked, his voice trembling with fear and desperation.
"A sailor knows when he is beaten by the storm. The only thing he can do is accept his fate and leave his ship," I said somberly, my voice hollow.
"Open the gates," I commanded, the resignation clear in my tone. The knight nodded, his face a mask of sorrow, and left to carry out my orders.
I moved towards the great hall, where the Driftwood Throne stood, a symbol of our house's legacy and pride. My defeat was inevitable. The forces of the Triarchy, bolstered by the Bronze Fury, had attacked with ferocity, and my forces lacked a dragon to counter them. The raven I had sent to Rhaenyra would be useless, as aid would not arrive in time.
I sat on the throne, the Driftwood Throne, as I heard the roar of the dragon outside. The doors to the great hall burst open, and the men of the Triarchy entered.
"The great Sea Snake, we meet again," said Sharako Lohar, a Lysene admiral of the Triarchy, his voice dripping with mockery.
We had faced each other in the War for the Stepstones. He was the best admiral the Triarchy had, and now he had come to claim his final victory.
I descended from the Driftwood Throne, chains clinking as they were placed around my wrists.
Then I heard footsteps, and I saw the man who had murdered my wife enter. Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, named after the man who had taken away my wife's inheritance, walked into the hall. He was wearing bronze dragon scale armor and had a Valyrian steel sword on his hip.
All the men of the Triarchy gave a small bow before him as he ascended the steps to the Driftwood Throne. He removed his helm, revealing a gaunt face hardened by the horrors of war.
"The Silent Fury," they called him, and now I understood why.
Never would I have thought that he would attack my fleet alongside the Triarchy. I had been a fool.
Ever since Viserys died, the man standing before me had won victory after victory, destroying the Blacks. He was a force of nature, relentless and unstoppable.
Sharako Lohar shoved me to my knees, forcing me to bow before Jaehaerys.
"Admiral Sharako Lohar, you have aided my brother, the one true king of Westeros, and for that, you have my thanks," Jaehaerys said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
"With your help, I was able to put down the upjumped Velaryons and show them their place. For that, you will be rewarded," he continued, his words laced with a cruelty that sent shivers down my spine.
"Half of the treasures earned by the Sea Snake through his nine voyages belong to you and your men," he declared. The men of the Triarchy cheered, their faces twisted with greed and triumph.
Then he descended from the Driftwood Throne and approached me.
"It is time for the Sea Snake to be judged," he said, his eyes boring into mine. They were void of malice, anger, or joy—just an endless darkness.
I was pulled to my feet and dragged to the courtyard. The sight before me shocked me to my core. Gathered outside the castle of Hightide were the members of my house, chained and huddled together in a circle.
Jaehaerys stood next to me, his presence looming like a shadow of death.
"I admire you, Lord Corlys, for what you have done for your house. You brought riches to your house and made them as powerful as House Targaryen," he said, uttering my house words, "The Old, The True, and The Brave."
"But you flew too close to the sun," he continued, his voice as cold as ice. "And when you fly too close, you get burned."
I realized what he meant as my eyes turned towards my kin in front of me. In the distance, I saw Vermithor land, its immense bulk causing the ground to tremble.
"No, you cannot," I said, horrified at what was about to happen.
"I beg of you," I said, my voice quivering. "Take my head, please do not kill them," I pleaded, closing my eyes and kneeling down, offering my life in exchange for theirs.
There was silence for a while until I opened my eyes and looked up to see Jaehaerys gazing into my eyes.
"I was just waiting for you to open your eyes," he said with a cruel smile.
"Vermithor, Dracarys," he shouted.
The Bronze Fury opened its maw and unleashed a torrent of fire upon my kin. Men, women, and children cried out in agony as the flames consumed them. I watched, horror-stricken, as everyone burned alive, their screams echoing in the night.
The courtyard of Hightide was a scene from the deepest circle of hell. The Bronze Fury's fire illuminated the night, casting grotesque shadows as the flames devoured everything in their path. My kin, those I had sworn to protect, were engulfed in a sea of fire. Their screams, piercing and full of agony, tore at my soul.
Jaehaerys stood beside me, his face a mask of cold indifference. He watched the inferno he had unleashed with a detached calm, as if the destruction of an entire house was a mere formality, a necessary step in his relentless march to power.
"Do you see now, Corlys?" he asked, his voice devoid of any human warmth. "This is what happens to those who oppose the true king."
I could barely see through the tears that streamed down my face. My heart was a heavy stone in my chest, weighed down by the unbearable loss. I had fought my entire life for my house, for my family, and now it was all gone, turned to ash in the blink of an eye.
"I have fought for House Targaryen all my life. I served them faithfully," I said, my voice filled with a mix of sorrow and defiance.
Jaehaerys's cold eyes bore into mine. "You served only yourself. You married Rhaenys for the Iron Throne. You sacrificed your children for the Iron Throne. You knew very well what kind of man your son was and still forced him to marry my sister, resulting in her giving birth to those bastards. The less said about your daughter, the better," he sneered.
"But your biggest mistake was to side with the wrong Targaryens," he continued, his voice a chilling monotone. "And your house paid the price for it."
"You are a monster, a monster!" I spat out, my rage boiling over.
"You are not wrong, I am a monster," he replied, unphased by my outburst.
The fire roared louder, and I saw the lifeless bodies of my kin crumbling into the flames. The sight broke something inside me. There was no more fight left, no more defiance. I was a hollow shell, filled only with sorrow and regret.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Why this cruelty?"
"To instill fear, for fear is the mind killer," he said, his words echoing in the night. "What happened to House Velaryon will be remembered for centuries to come. For the greatest Lord of Driftmark was also the last Lord of Driftmark."
"But you are not the last Velaryon," he continued, his voice now tinged with a sinister edge. "There remains one more—a girl barely two namedays old, the granddaughter of your nephew, Daenaera Velaryon. She will marry my nephew Maelor, and Driftmark will pass to him."
"You think you have won this war. But you are wrong," I said, mustering the last of my strength.
"The rogue prince will die by my hands," he said coldly. "And thus, the last dragonrider of the Blacks will die as well."
Hearing him, I was shocked. "Rhaenyra is already defeated," he continued. "While I attacked your fleet in the Gullet, my brothers went to Dragonstone. She must be dead by now if she even fought at all—after all, how can a single dragonrider defeat three?"
Hearing him, I started laughing, tears streaming down my face. Was it from the death of my kin or the fact that he did not know of the two dragonriders present in Dragonstone?
"Have you lost your wits, old man?" he asked, staring at me with those dead eyes of his.
"For all your might and intellect, you are still young," I said. "There are two more dragonriders in Dragonstone."
Hearing me, his eyes widened and he gripped my neck.
"Who is it?" he demanded, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic emotion.
I laughed at him, savoring this small victory. "Tell me!" he shouted, and for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
"Fuck you," I said, spitting in his face.
He let go of me as the soldiers of the Triarchy came and held me down. A chopping block was brought forward.
"Any last words?" he asked finally, his voice devoid of any trace of humanity.
I lifted my head, meeting his gaze with the last of my defiance. "You may kill me, but you will never kill the memory of House Velaryon. Our legacy will endure. And one day, justice will find you."
He said nothing, only raised his sword higher.
As the sword descended, the world around me seemed to freeze, and I was transported back through the corridors of my life. The memories played out like scenes in a dream, vivid and bittersweet.
I saw myself as a young boy, standing on the docks of Driftmark, watching the ships come and go. The salt air filled my lungs, and I knew even then that the sea would be my destiny. My father, stern yet proud, placed a hand on my shoulder and told me that one day, I would be the greatest sailor Westeros had ever known.
I remembered the first time I captained a ship, the thrill of command coursing through my veins. The Cod Queen, my beloved vessel, cut through the waves like a knife. The crew looked to me with trust and respect, and I felt invincible.
Then there was Rhaenys, my beautiful Rhaenys. I saw her again, standing in the gardens of Driftmark, her smile as radiant as the sun. We both were so full of hope. Our marriage was a union of power and ambition, but also of love. The memory of our wedding day, the joy and the promise of a future together, brought a fresh wave of grief.
I held our children in my arms once more—Laenor and Laena, my pride and joy. I remembered the way Laenor's eyes lit up when he talked about dragons, and Laena's infectious laughter that could chase away any dark thought. They were my legacy, my heart. And now they were gone.
I hoped that somehow, somewhere, they would find peace and that I might be reunited with them in the next life.
The sword struck, and there was a flash of blinding pain. But then, as if by some miracle, the pain began to fade. I felt myself drifting, weightless, as the world around me dissolved into darkness.
I found myself standing on the deck of the Cod Queen once more, the sea stretching out endlessly before me. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the wind filled the sails, propelling the ship forward with a gentle, reassuring force.
Rhaenys was there, her hand in mine, her smile as radiant as ever. Laenor and Laena stood beside her, their eyes filled with joy and wonder.
"We've been waiting for you," she said, her voice filled with love.
I reached out, pulling them all into an embrace, my heart overflowing with a mixture of relief and sorrow. We stood there together, a family once more, as the Cod Queen sailed into the horizon, leaving behind the pain and the suffering of the world we had known.
In that moment, I knew that my legacy, our legacy, would endure. Not in the halls of power or the annals of history, but in the hearts of those who remembered us, who loved us. And that, I realized, was the truest form of immortality.
As the darkness closed in, I felt a sense of peace I had not known in years. The fire that had consumed my family could not touch the bond we shared. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
With my last breath, I whispered a prayer for the future of House Velaryon. And then, I let go, surrendering to the embrace of the sea, the one true constant in my life.
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