Chapter 76: They Are Bastards!

Dragon's Nest, Silverblood Tower

Warm sunlight filtered through the lattice windows, casting its glow on Diana, who was slowly flipping through a ledger. The young Tarly woman had proven resilient; only a few days after giving birth, her complexion had already regained much of its healthy color.

Draezell quietly entered the room and seated himself in a cushioned chair beside his wife's bed. Reaching out, he gently smoothed Diana's soft, honey-colored hair. He remained clean-shaven, his youthful appearance unchanged from the handsome boy of a few years ago.

"I'm sorry to have worried you," Diana said weakly as she set the ledger aside.

"You've been amazing," Draezell replied warmly. "The children are doing well, and I've found the best wet nurses for them."

Diana instinctively touched her abdomen, a shadow of fear passing across her face before she managed a smile. "The children are sweet. It was only the last one that gave us trouble."

"Our children have successfully bonded with dragons, proving the strength of our family's bloodline. Diana, you've done a tremendous service for our house."

"Have you decided on names for the dragons?" Diana asked curiously. She had caught sight of the hatchlings upon waking.

"Let the children choose," Draezell said with a smile. "These dragons are their companions. Naming them is their responsibility."

Diana chuckled and pointed to the ledger in her hand. "This month, the

House accounts show an expense of 2,000 gold dragons to Tiggaro. Are we establishing something new in King's Landing?"

"Not establishing—already established," Draezell replied, taking the ledger from her hands. "Tiggaro requested funds to further operations."

"During King Jaehaerys's reign, laws were enacted requiring houses to pay taxes equivalent to one-third of their goods value when entering ports, and significant levies on new castle construction. Yet I see no record of such taxes in the house accounts," Diana said, lightly tapping Draezell's forehead. He leaned back against the chair, smirking.

"The king granted us exemptions," Draezell said, relaxing into the chair's soft leather. "Our gracious monarch waived the construction tax. As for the tariffs—no customs officer dares to provoke a family bonded to dragons. Well, a few stubborn ones tried, but nothing we couldn't handle."

"No wonder the family turned a profit in just two years," Diana marveled. The Vaelarys family's wealth was staggering, having poured nearly 70,000 gold dragons into luxury goods and another 10,000 into operations within two years, all while maintaining an abundance of resources. If the family held minting rights, their financial recovery would have been even swifter.

"The next step is minting rights," Draezell thought to himself.

Seguinte such privileges from House Targaryen would be no easy task. The Iron Throne tightly controlled the minting of currency, a lucrative endeavor yielding immense wealth. The gold mines of the Westerlands alone brought tens of thousands of gold dragons to the crown annually. While Draezell's construction projects had avoided taxation, a portion of the expenditures inevitably found its way to the Iron Throne.

"Your Grace, a message from King's Landing."

A soft knock came at the door, accompanied by Hoffa's voice.

"It doesn't seem like good news," Diana said knowingly. Messages delivered straight to her husband were rarely trivial. "Go ahead, I'll take care of myself."

Draezell kissed her forehead gently before turning to leave the room.

"Your Grace, Ser MorynVelaryon of High Tide Island is leading the Velaryon cadet branches to King's Landing. They seek justice for the late Ser Vaemond Velaryon and intend to claim the inheritance of High Tide."

"Vaemond?" Draezell frowned. "How did he die? Any word from Dragonstone?"

Hoffa nodded, walking alongside Draezell. "Ser Vaemond openly questioned the legitimacy of Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, claiming he was the rightful heir to High Tide. Princess Rhaenyra was furious and ordered Prince Daemon to execute him. Our agents in King's Landing reported seeing the Red Queen, Syrax, Caraxes, and Tyraxes arrive at the Dragonpit. News will likely reach Jace and Luke soon."

As Hoffa finished speaking, the door to the spiral staircase suddenly opened. Jacaerys entered with Lucerys, both visibly upset. Valar and Rey followed close behind, equally displeased.

"I already know what happened," Draezell cut off Valar before he could speak, turning directly to Jacaerys and Lucerys. "What are your plans?"

"We will immediately go to King's Landing to defend our rights, my lord," Jacaerys declared without hesitation. "Ser Vaemond's declaration not only questioned our legitimacy but also Mother's."

Draezell nodded. "Good. We'll support you."

Jacaerys, his resolve unshaken, pulled a tearful Lucerys along as they rushed to the lift of Silverblood Tower, ready to depart on dragonback.

"I'll prepare Silverwing," Valar said, giving his brother a firm nod before following.

Rey grabbed Draezell's arm, lowering his voice. "Brother, do we really need to get involved in this? The king will undoubtedly favor Princess Rhaenyra."

"The murkier the waters, the better for us, Rey," Draezell replied with a sly smile. "Don't tell me you've fallen for that three-year-old?"

"Of course not," Rey quickly replied, realizing his brother's intent. With King Viserys falling gravely ill after last year's injury from the Iron Throne, the palace's political undercurrents were becoming increasingly turbulent. In a low voice, Rey asked, "Brother, are you certain we should side with Princess Rhaenyra?"

Draezell nodded. "Supporting her serves our interests. The close ties between her children and our family, as well as the potential loopholes in her claim, align with our goals. For now, however, we'll remain officially neutral."

"I understand, Brother," Rey said, nodding. "I'll protect the castle and the children."

Draezell affectionately tapped his younger brother's nose. "You're still a child yourself. Listen to the others in the castle—Aslan, Vansen, Hoffa, and Leyla. Leyla's learned a lot from Diana."

"Understood." Rey nodded again. Draezell ruffled his brother's hair before heading to the lift.

A chorus of dragon roars echoed through the air.

First to take off were Vermax and Arrax, the young dragons. Vermax, a deep green, was leading confidently. The young dragon had grown quickly during its years on Dragon's Nest, now capable of long-distance flights. Arrax, smaller but swifter, darted ahead of its sibling within moments.

Silverwing followed, its massive wingspan nearly encompassing both younger dragons.

Last to rise was Vermithor. The Bronze Fury ascended like a mountain taking flight, its sheer size and power a spectacle to behold.

The people of the Summerfield had grown accustomed to these dragons. Even as their shadows blotted out the sun, they carried on with their work.

\---

The dragons landed directly in the courtyard of the Red Keep, bypassing the Dragonpit. Their imposing presence sent a chill through the green-and-gray-armored knights stationed there.

"Your sons and their knights have arrived," Princess Rhaenys said, leaning on the balustrade as she watched the dragons descend. It was unclear what thoughts filled her mind. Beside her, Rhaenyra observed her grown sons with a mix of relief and pride.

"I need your support," Rhaenyra said softly.

"You and I both know the truth, Princess," Rhaenys replied in an equally low voice. "I won't question Luke's claim, but neither will I openly support it. As for the outcome…" She paused. "I believe my late son will answer for us on behalf of the Father."

With that, Rhaenys turned and left for the throne room without another word.

Rhaenyra, lips pressed tight, watched as her sons and Draezell, accompanied by Valar, dismounted their dragons and hurried into the Red Keep. She could only sigh as she too returned to the throne room.

"The court prays for Lord Corlys Velaryon's recovery, beseeching the gods for his safe return. But more pressing is the matter of the inheritance of High Tide and the question of Prince Daemon's abuse of the law."

Otto Hightower stood before the Iron Throne and spoke in a steady, commanding voice.

Moryn Velaryon, accompanied by his brothers and nephews, stood at the base of the steps guarded by the swords of the throne. Queen Alicent stood to one side with members of the royal family, along with Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaena. On the opposite side, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Draezell, and Valar stood with their children. The Kingsguard surrounded the Iron Throne, while courtiers, Crownlands lords, and other nobles crowded behind, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the proceedings.

"Draezell, I'm grateful for your support," Rhaenyra whispered.

"Jace and Luke are our squires. It's our duty," Draezell replied just as quietly.

"Now, as Hand of the King, I shall speak on His Grace's behalf regarding this matter," Otto declared, carefully lowering himself onto the Iron Throne. "Ser Moryn, you may proceed."

Moryn stepped forward, first bowing to Queen Alicent. "Your Grace."

He then turned toward the Iron Throne. "My lord Hand, the history of House Velaryon stretches back to the days of ancient Valyria. While House Targaryen ruled the skies and lands, House Velaryon governed the seas for the Crown." Moryncast an indignant glance at Draezell before continuing. "Salt and sea run in Velaryon blood. Ours is an ancient and pure lineage. My late brother, Ser Vaemond Velaryon, devoted his life to serving our beloved uncle. We are his closest kin—bound by blood beyond question."

"Are you questioning the legitimacy of my sons?" Rhaenyra interrupted sharply. "They are Laenor's children. They hatched and ride dragons, a sign of unquestionable dragon blood. If lineage and law are so sacred to you, Moryn, you should not undermine your house's rightful heir. This is nothing but your greed and ambition speaking!"

"Princess Rhaenyra, refrain from interrupting," Alicent cut in, her tone sharp as she gestured for Morynto continue.

"That is your blood!" Moryn snarled, barely containing his fury. "Your Grace, my lord Hand, this is not about ambition. It is about the purity and continuity of Velaryon blood. Blood is everything to us. It must remain unbroken."

Jacaerys stared icily at Moryn, one hand on Luke's shoulder and the other gripping the hilt of his sword, but Draezell reached out to still him. Across the room, Aemond watched the scene with amusement, his eye glittering with interest.

"Ser Vaemond was the rightful heir to High Tide by virtue of his untainted lineage," Moryn continued, pointing an accusatory finger at Rhaenyra. "It is your ambition that led to my brother's death in a shameless and unlawful 'trial.'"

"Thus, I propose that my brother's son, Daeron, a true Velaryon by blood, be named as Lord Corlys' successor to the Driftwood Throne."

"Princess Rhaenyra, you may now defend your son Lucerys Velaryon's claim," Otto said coolly.

Rhaenyra stepped forward to speak when suddenly, the great doors of the throne room creaked open.

All eyes turned as Ser Erryk Cargyll and Ser Steffon Darklyn entered, flanking King Viserys. The frail king, his face partially obscured by a golden mask, leaned heavily on his cane as he shuffled forward with labored breaths.

Alicent's expression twisted in shock, and she rushed forward alongside Rhaenyra, both of them hurrying to assist him. But Viserys raised a hand to stop them.

Slowly, painfully, he made his way down the long hall of the throne room. His gaze flickered upward, catching sight of Draezell standing beside Jacaerys. A faint, broken smile touched his cracked lips.

"Hah... hah... Draezell... hah... hah... thank you... hah... for your support," King Viserys rasped, his breath labored and uneven.

Draezell inclined his head slightly. "The King still loves his daughter. A pity," he thought silently.

Viserys shuffled to the base of the steps leading to the Iron Throne. Struggling to ascend, he stumbled and nearly fell, the crown slipping from his head and clattering to the ground. Just as he bent to retrieve it, a pair of strong hands steadied him.

Daemon Targaryen nodded at his elder brother, silently offering his support as he guided him step by step to the Iron Throne. Once Viserys was seated, Daemon retrieved the fallen crown and carefully placed it back on his brother's head.

"I... hah... hah... I find it perplexing... hah... that anyone would... hah... question my judgment," Viserys wheezed before clearing his throat. His voice steadied as he turned his gaze to Princess Rhaenys. "Rhaenys, you knew Lord Corlys better than anyone. Speak to his wishes."

"Your Grace," Rhaenys said, her eyes briefly meeting Rhaenyra's with a meaningful look. "From the very beginning, my husband declared openly and unequivocally that his heir is Laenor's legitimate son, Lucerys Velaryon. He never wavered in that belief. Furthermore, Jace and Luke are betrothed to Baela and Rhaena, a union blessed and witnessed by the gods."

Luke glanced at his grandmother with a mixture of gratitude and unease.

"Then there is nothing more to discuss," Viserys declared, lifting his head with effort. "Prince Lucerys Velaryon is the undisputed heir to Driftmark and shall inherit the title of Lord of the Tides. As for Vaemond Velaryon, his defiance of the Crown and insults to its members warranted his execution—lenient punishment, in truth."

"Your Grace," Moryn Velaryon said, his face twisting into a bitter smile, "you may name heirs within your own family at your whim, but you have no right to dictate who inherits Velaryon blood. I will not allow your folly to destroy my house."

"Moryn!" Viserys' voice rose sharply, his remaining eye burning with anger. "Who do you think you are?"

"He is not a Velaryon!" Moryn shouted back, pointing accusingly at Lucerys.

"Enough!" Rhaenyra stepped in front of her son, her voice seething with rage.

"I will not let my family's legacy fall into—"

"Say it," Daemon interrupted with a mocking grin, watching Moryn 's outburst with amusement. "Go on, say it."

"They're bastards!" Moryn roared, his voice echoing through the throne room.

Jacaerys instinctively reached for his sword, but Draezell grabbed his wrist and forced it down. "Remember what I told you," Draezell hissed.

Viserys' eye widened, filled with nothing but cold fury.

"And she," Moryn spat, pointing a trembling finger at Rhaenyra, "is a whore!"

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