A Song of Ash and Empire

The candlelight cast flickering shadows across the chamber's stone walls, but the air between the three people remained steady, unwavering—like the needle of the compass that now sat untouched upon the table.

The weight of the proposition that was just made to him 

Lord Corlys Velaryon sat in silence, the weight of the proposition that was just made to him weighed heavily in his mind, his pale purple gaze moving from the polished brass device to the two people across from him.

Prince Baelon Targaryen, who carried the weight of House Targaryen's authority in this venture. This was not a man who negotiated as an equal. Baelon commanded.

And Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, whose mind had conceived of it in the first place.

It was not Baelon who intrigued him.

It was his son.

Rhaegar did not carry himself like a boy eager for approval. Nor did he speak as one who merely dreamed of grand ideas without the means to see them through.

No—there was something about him.

Something measured.

Something dangerous.

Corlys had spent his life among men of ambition, and yet he could not recall the last time he had met one so young, yet so utterly certain of himself.

And the implications of what they had just presented were immense.

This was not just about profit.

It was about dominance.

A chance to reshape the balance of power in Westeros—to shift the dependency away from the Free Cities and plant the banner of House Targaryen firmly upon the seas.

And Corlys understood the value of that better than anyone.

Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled.

"If you will forgive me my prince, you do not speak like a boy," he murmured, his gaze settling on Rhaegar. "Nor even like a man. You speak like someone who has already seen what we are about to build."

Baelon smirked. "Imagine living with him."

For the first time since the meeting began, Corlys let out a low chuckle—one of acknowledgment, not amusement.

Then, he leaned forward slightly. "You have made a bold proposition. Now, let us discuss the terms."

Baelon inclined his head. "Then let us begin."

Corlys raised one finger.

"First—if I am to command this company, this fleet you speak of, I must have true authority over it. House Velaryon will lead, unchallenged, in all naval trade matters."

Baelon nodded once. "Granted. You will command the fleet as you see fit. But House Targaryen will have the final say in all major matters." 

Corlys nodded. "Done."

Baelon added. "Understand this—the purpose of this fleet is commerce, not war. It will be well-armed and capable of defending itself, but this is not a naval armada."

Corlys exhaled. "That much is obvious. A fleet of warships would make enemies of every major port before we could even establish ourselves."

Rhaegar leaned forward slightly. "The Free Cities will suspect us. They may even resist us in time. But a trading fleet is not a hostile force—until it is necessary."

Baelon smiled. "Precisely."

Corlys lifted a second finger.

"The company—this trade empire you speak of—will be ours alone. No lesser lords, no merchants, no outside influences. Only House Targaryen and House Velaryon."

Baelon nodded his head. "That was always the intent."

Corlys nodded in satisfaction.

Then, he lowered his hand and rested both palms against the table.

"There is only one matter left to discuss," he said. "The cost."

A venture of this scale would not be cheap.

Ships did not build themselves. Sailors did not work for free. Materials, construction, outfitting, maintenance—it would take gold and a lot of it.

Rhaegar was prepared for this discussion.

Baelon, however, took the lead.

"We understand that building a fleet from nothing would be a task too large to bear alone," he admitted. "Even for House Velaryon."

Corlys exhaled through his nose. "Driftmark has wealth, but not enough to raise an entire fleet of merchant ships on its own, not in a short span of time. If we are to move quickly, we will need additional backing."

Baelon nodded. "That is where House Targaryen comes in."

Rhaegar interjected smoothly, "The Crown will sponsor the initial stages—through gold, resources, and whatever else is needed to ensure this fleet is constructed efficiently and without obstruction with assistance from you."

Corlys tilted his head slightly. "And the repayment?"

Baelon's voice was firm. "The company will repay the investment through its profits—overseen by both our Houses. But the controlling share of this venture will remain with House Targaryen."

Corlys drummed his fingers against the wood. "A risk on your part, then."

"A calculated risk," Rhaegar corrected. "And one we are prepared to take."

A pause.

Then Corlys exhaled. "If we are to raise this fleet, we will need more than just coin. Timber, shipwrights, ports to serve as docking stations—this will require careful planning."

"I already have thoughts on where to begin," Rhaegar admitted. "But we will need to discuss it further."

Corlys chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You truly have thought of everything my prince, haven't you?"

Rhaegar smirked. "You have no idea."

A moment of silence followed.

"This agreement," Corlys said finally, "must be put to paper. Signed by both our Houses."

"Naturally," Baelon replied.

"The King will formalize it," Rhaegar added. "House Targaryen and House Velaryon will be the only two names upon it."

Corlys nodded in approval.

A long pause.

Then, he extended his hand.

Baelon did not move.

He only looked at Rhaegar.

This was his plan. His ambition.

So it would be his hand that sealed it.

Rhaegar met Corlys's gaze one last time.

Then, without hesitation, he clasped his forearm.

The deal was made.

The course was set.

The Sea Snake had been reeled in.

And soon?

The sea itself would follow.