Bronze Beauty | Daemon Targaryen

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"House Velaryon's origins reach back to Old Valyria. More ancient than even House Targaryen, according to some texts. But, unlike the Targaryens, we were no Dragon Lords. For centuries my house had to scratch out an existence from the sea with grit and luck. When I ascended the Driftwood throne, I knew what I wanted, so I went out and seized it. Unlike every other lord of the realm, I can say I built my house's high seat with the strength of mine own back. I've always thought of you and I as having been made from the same cloth." Lord Corlys Valaryon said, his back straight and his voice proud as he sat across from Daemon in the hall of Driftmark.

The chamber was dark. The only light was the moonlight coming from the windows and the glow of firelight from the torches and massive fireplace. All around Daemon were trophies, skulls, and treasures plucked from Lord Corlys' many voyages and battles. While most lords could brag about their heritage and long lineages with little else to show for it, Lord Corlys Valaryon was one of the few who could say he'd built himself up, and earned his birthright. House Valaryon had always been powerful, with Valyrian blood and the Targaryen dynasty's favour, but never before had it reached such heights as when Corlys took the throne.

Through voyage after voyage, battle after bloody battle, the young lord made a name for himself, 'The Sea Snake,' the realm called him, for his prowess with his massive battle axe and sea savviness. Then, with his newfound wealth that surpassed even the Lannisters and Hightowers, he'd built his own keep, High Tide, where Daemon now sat, watching the Sea Snake with thoughtful, narrow eyes.

Finally, after he'd felt he'd left the Lord sitting long enough in his anticipation, he murmured, voice bored, "I wasn't aware you had a king for a brother."

Corlys didn't flinch at the barb; instead, he pushed forward, his voice filled with ardour, "We are both men who have had to cut out our own way through the world. We've been passed over too often."

Daemon's eyes narrowed at the reminder that he was simply the King's younger, useless brother to most of the realm. Hell, with the birth of his children and his renewed loyalty to Diana these past years, he could barely call himself the 'Rogue Prince' he once was. He'd tried to be the honourable, dutiful brother, and what had that gotten him and his family? Nothing. Nothing but ridicule from his brother's slithering cunt of a hand and the disappointment of his wife. Who had always seen the potential in him.

"Did you call me to Driftmark to remind me of my low-standing Lord Corlys? Or was there some other reason?" His voice was dark, with the promise of what he would do if the Lord of the Tides was wasting his time.

Lord Corlys paused for a moment before continuing, "You've heard of the troubles in the Stepstones." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. Of course, Daemon knew of all the potential threats to his family's kingdoms.

He shrugged, his voice falsely cavalier to not seem keen on whatever scheme the slighted lord had in mind. "Some Myrish prince is feeding Westerosi sailors to the crabs."

With impunity...

He didn't say the words they were both thinking. Viserys, in his endless race to please everyone, had refused to take action against the potential threat the Crab Feeder posed to the Narrow Sea and its shipping lanes.

Lord Corlys' eyes narrowed, his hands clenching into fists as he gritted out, "I have been petitioning the King to send my navy to the territory, but he's denied me."

Grabbing his wine, Daemon stood up, pacing towards the fireplace, his eyes down in contemplation, "That has never been my brother's strongest trait."

"What?"

"Being King." Daemon's words were cold, without inflection, but their meaning seemed to boost Corlys' courage, the lord leaning forward in his seat, eyes slightly crazed in his excitement.