Chapter Two: The Sea Snake
Year: 111 AC
Corlys Velaryon stood on the deck of his ship, a cup of Dornish red in hand. The war against the Triarchy was finally at its tail end. They had pushed the Three Daughters back hard enough that it would take them a good while to gather strength for another serious assault. The Crabfeeder was dead. Most of the pirate captains who had flocked to the Triarchy's banners were dead or scattered. The Stepstones, for the moment, were quiet.
Still, one thing refused to leave his mind.
Why had the Bronze Fury flown toward Qohor?
Vermithor, the old dragon of the Conciliator, had not been seen away from Dragonstone in decades. For the great bronze beast to cross the Narrow Sea and settle near the city of sorcerers was strange enough to demand answers. With the Triarchy no longer an immediate threat, Corlys handed temporary command to his brother and set sail.
It had been nearly three weeks since he left the Stepstones. Under normal circumstances he would have returned straight to High Tide. Curiosity, however, had pulled him east.
Now, as his ship approached the coast near Qohor, he saw it.
The Bronze Fury climbed into the sky on vast, tattered wings, bronze scales gleaming in the afternoon light. And upon its back sat a man—tall even from this distance, with unmistakable Valyrian features.
Jaehaerys Volantis had never felt more alive.
Riding Vermithor was like sitting atop a moving volcano. The first time he had laid a hand on the dragon's warm scales, images had flooded his mind—schematics, forges, ancient methods of working metal with dragonfire. The headache had been sharp at first, but he was growing used to it. Somewhere in those visions lay the key to true Valyrian steel. All he needed was the right forge and enough dragonfire.
"Vermithor," he called in broken High Valyrian. "Dive."
The great dragon hesitated for only a moment before tucking his wings and dropping. The wind roared past Jaehaerys's face. At the last moment Vermithor snapped his wings open and landed heavily near the small camp Jaehaerys had established outside the city
He climbed down with a rare smile… which vanished the moment he saw Cain waiting for him.
The orange-haired merchant had that look again—the one that meant he had been poking through things he should not.
"What do you want?" Jaehaerys asked, voice returning to its usual gruff tone. "You have that expression like you've been planning something."
Cain only grinned. "I've been reading your sketchbooks. The city designs are impressive. Complex. A place built purely for craft—no pleasure houses, no distractions. Just artisans and forges."
Jaehaerys poured water into a cup and drank before answering. "I told you what would happen if you touched my books again. I was going to put Bronzefury through your chest."
Cain rolled his eyes and reached for another sketchbook. Jaehaerys snatched it away.
"And what does a craftsman need with pleasure houses?" Jaehaerys muttered.
"You can't build a city without some life in it, my friend," Cain replied. "People will come. And where people gather, certain houses always follow—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Vermithor's head snapped up. A low, dangerous growl rolled from the dragon's throat as a small group approached the camp.
Three Velaryon guards stood with hands near their sword hilts. In front of them walked a man Jaehaerys recognized from stories alone.
Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.
Corlys studied the towering figure before him. The man was massive—far larger than any Targaryen he had ever seen—yet the Valyrian blood was unmistakable: silver-white hair, sharp features, and those purple eyes. The great bronze dragon rested its head near the camp as if it belonged there.
"I am Corlys Velaryon," he said evenly. "I came to learn why the Old King's dragon flew all the way out here. It seems I have my answer. May I ask your name?"
Jaehaerys looked down at the lord from Westeros. "I can guess why you're here. I've already bonded with Vermithor. If you've come to claim him, he will burn you like the others who tried."
The guards tensed. Vermithor's growl
deepened.
Corlys raised a hand to still them. "I have no such intention. I am only surprised. If you don't mind my asking… are you a bastard?"
Jaehaerys sat back down beside the dragon. "Saera Targaryen is my mother. And no—I am not a bastard. I am her youngest child."
Corlys felt a flicker of dark amusement. The Old King would have been furious to know one of Saera's children had claimed his dragon. But amusement quickly gave way to calculation. A dragonrider of this size and skill, bonded to Vermithor himself… and apparently a master smith as well.
His eyes fell on the greatsword resting near the camp. The blade was dark, almost black, with a subtle purple sheen.
"Is that…?"
"Darktide," Jaehaerys said. "One of my better works. It is not Valyrian steel, and I will not tell you how I made it."
Corlys studied the weapon, then the man. A craftsman. A fighter. A dragonrider bonded to the second-largest living dragon in the world. And he had no lands of his own.
An opportunity.
"I have a proposition," Corlys said. "Come to Driftmark. You would be welcome there as a friend."
Jaehaerys glanced at Cain. The merchant gave a small, eager nod—already thinking of trade routes and new markets in Westeros.
"All right," Jaehaerys said at last. "I'll take you up on the offer. But I'll need help moving my materials. The books and notes I can carry myself. The crates of metal and the rest… have your men load them onto my friend's ship."
Corlys smiled and gave the order. As the guards moved to gather the heavy crates, Jaehaerys secured Bronzefury at his hip. The hammer felt different now. Heavier with possibility. With Vermithor's fire, he might finally build the forge he needed.
And the Sea Snake, it seemed, might be the one to give him the chance.
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Should Bloodstone wear build and yes my character will be more aligned to the sea snakes in the matching for this will be his daughter
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