Chapter 141: Is It the Sea Snake's Bloodline, or Laenor's?
Ben Oonebal stared quietly at the deck beneath his feet.
Dorco showed no mercy. With a single swing of his arakh, he severed Ben's head, and blood splashed across the silver-gold hair of the Silver Blood warrior.
Only then did the Unsullied and Tiger Cloaks hidden below deck begin scrambling out of the hold. One after another, they were cut down, beheaded, or had their skulls crushed before they could mount any meaningful resistance.
Only after the slaughter ended did Dragonzel notice Daemon flying nearby.
The Rogue Prince looked far older now.
Before the Dance of the Dragons, Daemon had never worn a beard. Every time Dragonzel saw him, his silver hair would be neatly combed and tied behind his head, his face clean-shaven, and sometimes he even wore expensive perfume.
But now Prince Daemon had begun losing hair.
The silver that remained had turned noticeably grayer.
The once flawless face now carried a thick beard.
Even mounted atop the fierce and untamed Caraxes, Daemon could not conceal the exhaustion and age etched across his features.
"Dragonzel, let's discuss this once we reach Dragonstone," Daemon said while watching Hugh and the others finish off the final Unsullied before retreating back to the Mouse.
The Mouse slowly backed away, separating from the dragon thief's oared vessel.
Vermithor opened his jaws and unleashed a torrent of blazing dragonfire.
The ship erupted into flames.
Dragonzel looked at the visibly aged Daemon and could not help sighing.
Vermithor spread his wings and slowly followed Caraxes as the Blood Wyrm turned toward Dragonstone.
Only Joffrey remained where he was, staring thoughtfully at the two silver-haired youths retreating aboard the Mouse.
In the end, he signaled for the Mouse to follow and rode after the two dragons toward Dragonstone.
The moment Joffrey saw Adam and Alyn, he suddenly remembered his grandfather's dying words.
Driftmark, Some Time Earlier
High Tide Castle — The Ninth Voyage Hall
Joffrey threw off his dark-blue cloak and hurried up the spiral staircase leading toward the Ninth Voyage Hall.
Along both sides of the stairway stood rows of display alcoves containing treasures gathered from every corner of the known world.
He ran past a golden harpy statue inlaid with emeralds and rubies before entering the vast hall.
At the center stood the famous model of the Sea Snake, crafted from nineteen precious gemstones, exotic beast bones, and carved weirwood.
Around it were arranged whale skeletons, statues from Qarth, treasures from Yi Ti and even Asshai, alongside countless specimens of strange creatures.
Together they formed an enormous sea chart across the floor.
The glow from pearls and gemstones alone was enough to illuminate the entire chamber.
Inside the hall sat only one man.
The aging Lord Corlys Velaryon.
The Sea Snake rested upon a driftwood throne, quietly watching his grandson enter.
"Grandfather, why are you here?"
Joffrey hurried over anxiously.
"The maester said your condition doesn't allow strenuous movement."
Hearing his grandson's voice, Corlys slowly raised his head and opened his eyes.
"Joffrey?"
"What time is it?"
"Grandfather, it's the Hour of the Wolf."
Joffrey tried to help him rise.
"The Hour of the Wolf…"
"Not long until sunrise."
Corlys weakly waved him closer.
"Grandfather, you should return to your chambers."
"Where are Alysanne and Rhaenys?" Corlys asked instead.
Joffrey paused.
"They're sleeping. Rhaenys played with Dawn for too long and wore herself out."
"That's good... good..."
Corlys muttered softly.
He could feel life slipping away.
There was a secret he needed to tell Joffrey.
The collateral branches of House Velaryon were worthless.
He would never allow Joffrey's children—or the children of House Martell—to marry those distant relatives whose dragon blood had thinned into nothing and who amounted to little more than fools.
While he still lived, some of them had even attempted to assassinate both him and Joffrey.
Because they understood something.
Neither King's Landing nor Dragon's Nest City could alter Joffrey's inheritance rights.
Their plot failed, naturally.
Led by Malentine Velaryon—the same man who had once publicly called Queen Rhaenyra I a whore—the conspirators known as the "Silent Five" had their tongues removed before being burned alive by Tyraxes.
As for Vaemond Velaryon's sons, Daeron and Daemion, they refused to participate.
That refusal saved their lives.
Joffrey rewarded them and allowed them to settle peacefully.
Corlys knew all of this.
He sneered.
"They don't deserve the name Velaryon."
"Our bloodline produced dragonriders."
"Not cowards who wet themselves at the sight of dragonfire."
The Sea Snake had never abandoned his dream of dragons.
His descendants possessed the strongest concentration of dragon blood House Velaryon had ever seen.
They represented the family's greatest hope of reclaiming dragons.
The rise of House Varezes was unstoppable.
Unless the Targaryens produced an exceptionally romantic fool in the future, the queens sitting upon the Iron Throne would carry Varezes blood—not Velaryon blood.
"Come closer, child."
"I have something to tell you."
"But first, swear before the Seven Gods and our ancestors that you will never reveal this matter."
"As long as you return to your chambers afterward, Grandfather, I swear before the old gods, the new gods, and the ancestors of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon."
Corlys nodded in satisfaction.
Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"This is an ugly matter."
"I may have wronged your grandmother."
"Huh?"
Joffrey's jaw nearly dropped.
He quickly covered his mouth.
Corlys chuckled.
"I'm not even sure myself."
"There was a girl in Hull's shipyard."
"People called her Mouse."
"I think her name was Marda. Or perhaps Malinda."
"I don't remember."
"She was a sweet girl."
"Her father was one of my shipwrights."
"A dragonseed."
"Though neither father nor daughter possessed Velaryon features."
Joffrey knew what dragonseeds were.
The illegitimate descendants left behind by Targaryen men.
Dragonstone was full of them.
Even after Good Queen Alysanne abolished the First Night, dragonseeds remained highly respected among the islanders.
They often married among themselves in hopes of preserving their "noble" blood.
Sometimes their noble fathers even provided generous support.
Most dragonseeds lived decent lives.
Joffrey continued listening.
"After your grandmother married me, I never visited a brothel again."
"Not even in Lys."
"I never left the ship."
Corlys smiled faintly.
"But somehow that girl became pregnant."
"Right after my ship was repaired."
"I searched my memory countless times."
"I don't remember ever bedding her."
"And I don't remember any man other than Laenor being close to her."
"But when the child was born..."
"I realized the child might truly be ours."
Joffrey understood immediately.
If Corlys recognized the child as Velaryon blood at first glance, then the baby must have possessed silver hair and purple eyes.
"That girl eventually gave birth to two children."
"But she never brought them to the castle."
"I secretly visited her later."
"She insisted they were Laenor's sons."
Corlys laughed bitterly.
"Laenor's sons?"
"No one knew Laenor better than I did."
The old lord shook his head.
Laenor Velaryon had never desired women.
When he shared a marriage bed with Rhaenyra, she had practically allowed him to bring his male favorites with him.
Even then, Laenor never produced an heir.
Not even when Rhaenyra disguised herself as a young man to humor him.
Now Marda claimed the boys were Laenor's children.
Corlys did not believe it.
Yet he also refused to admit the truth.
Deep down he knew exactly who had shared those nights with him.
He simply did not wish to face the fact that he had betrayed Rhaenys.
"I understand."
Joffrey sighed.
"This truly is... unfortunate."
"I'll bring them home when the time is right."
"They are Velaryon blood regardless."
"They won't be abandoned."
Corlys smiled.
"I still remember their names."
"Adam."
"Alyn."
The old Sea Snake leaned back against the driftwood throne.
Relieved.
At peace.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
He was tired.
He only wanted to sleep.
And after that sleep...
He never woke again.
Present Day — Dragonstone
Joffrey's thoughts returned to the present.
After landing Tyraxes in Dragonstone's courtyard, he headed toward the harbor.
He needed to see whether those two silver-haired youths truly were the Adam and Alyn his grandfather had spoken of.
Meanwhile, Dragonzel and Daemon had already landed along Dragonstone's shoreline.
Standing beside the sea, Dragonzel looked at Daemon and laughed.
"Cousin, your beard is longer than King Viserys' ever was."
"Dragonzel, spare me."
Daemon stroked his beard with a self-deprecating smile.
"It wasn't until I actually sat upon the Iron Throne that I understood my brother."
"Every day is filled with endless trivial matters."
"And every single one of them must be handled."
He shook his head.
"To be honest, I'm grateful I never inherited the throne."
"And that Rhaenyra didn't keep it."
"Hmph."
"She escaped early and left the rest of us to clean up the mess."
Dragonzel chuckled.
Then his expression grew serious.
"What do you think about what Hogg and Ben said?"
Dragon's Nest City was not particularly vulnerable to dragon thieves.
Without wings, nobody could enter the Dragonpit.
Without permission, nobody could approach the Dragon Nest Tower where dragon eggs were kept.
Meanwhile, Khal Ago's Dothraki constantly roamed the surrounding lands.
These worshippers of the Winged Horse carefully tracked every dragon flight path.
Each Silver Blood manor also monitored dragon activity.
Furthermore, the only wild dragon nearby—Vermax—was not an easy beast to tame.
Dragonstone, however, was a different matter.
The island lacked manpower.
Its dragons lived openly upon Dragonmont.
"Dragonstone has always attracted dragon thieves," Daemon replied.
He understood perfectly that the Varezes family had reignited the dreams of countless descendants of Valyrian dragonlords.
But blaming Dragonzel now served no purpose.
Instead, he explained Dragonstone's situation.
"Every year, hundreds of silver-haired fools arrive from every corner of the world hoping to steal an egg or tame a dragon."
"They forget one simple fact."
"Dragons don't eat grass."
Daemon scratched Caraxes beneath the jaw.
"Before the Conquest, dragonriders lived on Dragonstone."
"Their dragons hunted anyone who approached Dragonmont."
"After the Conquest, Targaryen riders still spent long periods here."
"Later, the wild dragons themselves became hunters."
"Some even killed their own kind."
"If dragons would devour other dragons, what chance did humans have?"
Daemon laughed coldly.
"Take Cannibal, for example."
"The bones of would-be dragonriders were piled like mountains outside its lair."
Then he suddenly remembered something.
"Dragonzel."
"How many dragonlord families still remain behind Volantis' Black Walls?"
"That depends on your definition."
Dragonzel sat upon a clean stone, and Daemon joined him.
"If we mean true descendants of the ancient dragonlord houses like House Varezes, perhaps only two or three families remain."
"The rest descend from exiled cadet branches."
"Some descend from former household slaves who remained behind in Volantis."
Dragonzel gazed out across the sea.
"It is no longer the age of the Dragonlords."
"Ambition without power is ultimately nothing more than a dream."
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