Chapter 1: Tides Take You

The boy dreamed of Empire. Knights clad in giant's armor and dromonds that sailed star and sky. Armies of men beyond count; cohorts of every race and stripe. He dreamed of Revolution: a noble end through wicked means. Though the Seven blessed their crusade with victory, they punished his deeds with death.

It was just. Necessary.

He'd seen other things too; learned different truths. Words to stir the hearts of men and women. Showmanship, but also the cold truth of sacrifice and wars waged without steel.

"It is naught but dreams, Lelouch," Maester Banneth had said.

Yet, for all the links Maester Banneth possessed, valyrian steel could not be counted among them.

His was the blood of kings and emperors twice over. Targaryen blood, though he bore the name Velaryon, and Britannian blood though he bore the name of his mother. Blood was power, beyond the grasp of ordinary men.

Lelouch Velaryon was a dragon, and so were his dreams.

-ZeroRequiem-

"No worthy seat for the blood of old Valyria," Lelouch said as they rode.

Castle Driftmark was no homely home. The oft-salted walls were damp, dark, and far too small to contain his ambitions. There, he was a mere figurehead there for his father's regents. Lelouch leapt at every opportunity to be away, and if one could not be found, he'd make one.

Donnall looked back at the lowering portcullis, marred by spots of an ugly, creeping orange, and offered a nod in response. "As you say, Cousin, but what would you have your lord father do? Have the walls scrubbed each time the high tide floods us? It would cost a small fortune."

"It was not so long ago that our wealth was greater than the Lannisters," Lelouch said as their horses trotted into the town of Hull, just outside the walls of Driftmark castle.

"Not since the time of the Sea Snake and Spicetown," Donnall said.

"A hun-"

"-hundred and twenty eight years since," Donnall said, rolling his purple eyes. "You have said oh so many times."

"The truth must be said," Lelouch grumbled, "as many times as it takes to be acknowledged."

Donnall smirked. "Where was this conviction last night when the cook asked who'd taken half his pie?"

"Not all truths are equal," Lelouch said, nudging his horse Seasmoke with his leg to take the left fork, heading further inland and away from the rows of hulls anchored below the castle.

"Ha! So tell me of this master plan of yours?" Donnall asked.

"I would not bother with Castle Driftmark. It would take too much coin and solve nothing. Instead, we ought to rebuild High Tide."

Donnall stared at him. "Too much coin, yet you'd spend even more refurbishing that charred ruin?"

"It is a solution which will not be undone by the coming of the next tide," Lelouch said as a busy thoroughfare running through the middle of Hull came to a respectful halt, just to let them cross.

"All very good to speak of what we ought to do, but what can we do? Even with the wealth our trade fleets bring, rebuilding High Tide is no small matter. We would need stone and wood and men, not the fineries of Essos and the Jade Sea," Donnall said.

"It is the nature of trade," Lelouch said matter-of-factly, "to exchange what is possessed for what is required. Massey's Hook has plenty of stone, and the Wendwater Woods could provide us all the timber we'd need."

"You've given this thought."

Lelouch shrugged. "Some. I have not finished thinking it through." As punishment for the Sea Snake's part in the Dance of the Dragons, Cregan Stark had revoked their right to rebuild High Tide. It did not last according to Maester Banneth, for the Oakenfist's voyages won him many honors and the decree was overturned in time.

But they had not acted on it and it was many years between then and now. Had the opportunity passed them by?

The wind shifted and their noses wrinkled at the odor it brought. Hull had not completely forgotten its roots as a trio of modest fishing villages who'd grown together when House Velaryon became wealthy under Corlys the Sea Snake. Lelouch's father had remarked once that the stench of fish was a welcome one after visiting King's Landing.

How much viler it must be then, Lelouch wondered.

Three men-at-arms were waiting for them in the marketplace, taking the reins of their horses. The third man carried the flag of House Velaryon.

"Why is it you spend so much time here listening to merchant babble?" Donnall asked as they dismounted. "It isn't proper for a lord to mingle with his lessers."

"Neither is it strictly proper for a lord to be accompanied by a bastard, yet here we are," Lelouch said, huffing aside a strand of black hair that blocked his vision.

"You and I both know no one else would bear your peculiarities."

"Alarra adores me."

"Your sister is twelve. She'll tire of you with a few more namedays," Donnall said.

Lelouch waved his hand. "A treasonous thought."

The baker hugged an armful of loaves outside his bakery. "Good tidings, m'lords."

"That's more bread than usual, Stuar," Lelouch said, counting out four stags from his purse. For that many, the price must have dropped from fifteen coppers to twelve. It wasn't likely it would go lower than that given winter had yet to end.

"A cog from Oldtown bound for Pentos docked to sell us the Reach's surplus, Lord Lelouch," Stuar said, handing the bread off to the Velaryon guard that stepped forward.

Corwyn has not sent us a letter in some time, Lelouch thought, handing the baker his payment.

"Seven blessings to you, m'lord. Your silver has spared my children from the worst of winter. If there's anything I can ever do for you..."

"Do you want to know why I patronize you?" Lelouch asked, and stepped so close he could pick out the specks of flour from the man's clothes. "Because even half-starved and freezing, you're honest enough not to cheat me. Stay that way, and we can continue as we are for however many winters come." He turned back to his men. "To the wharves."

"So for all of your copper counting these past five years of winter," Donnall asked, "how much coin do you actually have left?"

"I'll not have a stag to my name by winter's end." Maester Banneth had found no fault with his meticulous calculations, even praising him for considering potential volatilities in price.

Donnall's face twisted. "Then what was this all for?"

"A kind hand in troubled times is paid back sevenfold," Lelouch said.

Donnall scoffed. "Spare me the septa's lectures. Giving alms is all well and good, but not to this extent."

"What better use is there for my coin?" Lelouch asked. "I eat better than any soul on this island and sleep in relative comfort. My needs are met."

"Well, if you're so eager to part with them, you could hand them to me next time," Donnall grumbled.

"You already tolerate me," Lelouch said, nodding towards the growing tail of children they were picking up. "It's them I need to like me."

"The children?"

"Hughes, you may begin," Lelouch said as they entered within bowshot of the wharves.

"Yes, my lord." The man planted the Velaryon banner deep into the dirt, and the children descended on them like a swarm of locusts.

"What do you see, Donnall?" Lelouch asked.

"Our flag, children, bread."

"What else?"

Donnall glanced at him, then swept his eyes through the pier, not far from where they stood. "Blackwater Bay, ships and seamen, and more fish than I care to."

"Seamen," Lelouch repeated. "How many of them do you suppose have children?"

Donnall frowned. "I couldn't say."

"Mayhaps half, my lord," Hughes offered.

"Thank you, Hughes," Lelouch said, and turned to his cousin. "Half… can you imagine?"

"So this is about feeding men sworn to your lord father?"

"If that was all, what need would I have for this display?" Lelouch asked.

Something seemed to click in Donnall's head, for his eyes narrowed. "This is about being seen."

"There may be hope for that brain of yours after all," Lelouch said, smiling.

"To what end?"

"What do you think?"

Donnall groaned. "Will you ever just answer my questions?"

"Swords and ships are not the only weapons of the world. Coin and bread and reputation matter just as much," Lelouch said. "The seahorse brings food in hard times and feeds your children. The Velaryons look out for the smallfolk. The young Velaryon cares. If this act buys me the loyalty of even a tenth of those here, I dare you to find a merchant who could offer so much for so little."

Donnall fell silent. After a few minutes of contemplation, he said, "If you spent half as much time with Ser Morren as you did thinking, mayhaps I wouldn't whip you so often in the training yard."

Lelouch scoffed. "But if I took your small victories away from you, what would you have left?"

Donnall snorted. "I would leave you eating dust six out of seven bouts even if you tried."

"That's why I don't bother."

"So I can win all seven bouts then? You're too kind to me, Cousin," Donnall said. "You won't become a knight by reading books and haggling like a fisherwife. Glory is earned through combat."

"I am content just to have my orders obeyed; I'll leave the glory of butchery to the likes of you," Lelouch said. He squinted as he spotted their sigil fluttering out at sea. Five ships made for a significant force relative to the Driftmark Fleet, but no such party had been sent out on patrol so recently. That left… "The Season of Tides?"

Donnall's shoulders went rigid. "I thought he wouldn't be back for a few weeks yet," he murmured.

Even with fair winds and fairer tides, a journey to Volantis could not be done so quickly. "They must have suffered a setback. The narrow sea makes rough waves in the winter," Lelouch said.

"The winter has not been harsh," Donnall said.

"Warm winters make for the worst storms," Lelouch said. "Hughes, send word to the castle that my uncle is arriving."

"No, I should go. I'll be faster on Oakfoot," Donnall said, already mounting his horse.

"Are you certain?" Lelouch asked. "Uncle Adamm will want to see his child."

"Then he'll send for Kiren," Donnall said. "I'm just his bastard. Lady Eunice wouldn't approve if I stayed."

"Aunt Eunice doesn't approve even when you do exactly as she asks you to." Lelouch sighed. "But if you are set on this, I won't stop you."

Donnall was long gone when the Season of Tides and its escorts docked. Adamm Velaryon shared a few words with Bluebeard and a pale-skinned beauty, before sauntering down the gangplank. His violet eyes, a hue richer than the finest Tyroshi dyes, locked with his own.

"Uncle, welcome home! You're back earlier than we expected," Lelouch said.

"We had to turn back at Lys," Uncle said, eyeing him up and down. "You've grown taller. How old are you now?"

"I'll be fifteen soon enough."

Uncle cracked a smile. "Aye, I suppose you are. Nearly old enough to wed, or to captain a ship," he said pointedly.

"Neither Father nor Mother have mentioned their plans for me, much as I wish it were otherwise," Lelouch said. "But if I could choose it, I would sail the narrow sea and Essos. See the Titan of Braavos and the Long Bridge of Volantis and the other wonders of man."

"No dreams of earning the favor of fair maidens?" Uncle Adamm asked.

"I am the heir of Driftmark. Knighthood or not, my father will arrange a match for me, as his father did for him, and his before him."

Uncle Adamm frowned, and Lelouch could not help but see the truth of Donnall's parentage, no matter the protests of all involved.

"You disapprove, but it is the truth I have made peace with," Lelouch said. "I am not so young to be blinded by dreams of marrying for love." Nor, he thought, will I shirk my duty.

"Only by dreams of travel and far off lands."

"I am a Velaryon," Lelouch said, puffing his chest. "Travel sings in our blood, and clings to our bones. The Sea Snake and Oakenfist both had their voyages. Mayaps I shall surpass them both, for have we not treated with both sides of the narrow sea for a thousand years?"

"Aye," Uncle said, a wistful look entering his eyes. He sighed. "We should head for the castle. Best not to keep family waiting."

Mother had assembled what family remained on the island by the time they passed under the castle's walls and into the courtyard. His sister squealed as they arrived, favoring them both with a warm hug and a bubbly smile to Septa Kailsey's disapproval. Kiren, his cousin, curtseyed to textbook perfection, and only after did she pester her father with questions about his voyage.

Lelouch felt Donnall's absence keenly in the midst of kin. The Velaryons shared the purple eyes of old Valyria, but while his absent brother and sister and trueborn cousin were all silver-haired like the dragonlords, he and Donnall had received tufts of black from their mothers. Granted, Lelouch's was a lighter shade, and Donnall did not quite have the pointed chin Lelouch had, but still.

Aunt Eunice never permitted Donnall to greet his father after docking, and though Mother treated Donnall better than most bastards, she valued peace with her good-sister too.

"Be welcome in Castle Driftmark, my good-brother," Mother said once Alarra and Kiren quieted down some.

"How fares my brother, Alysanne?" Uncle Adamm asked.

"Poorly. Father is stubborn as ever." Lelouch scowled. "Though the very air of King's Landing poisons him, he will not relinquish his post on the small council."

"He'll return soon enough for Lelouch's name day," Mother said, then turned on Lelouch with a chiding tone. "The master of ships is our rightful post. We have a duty to uphold."

"The Velaryons have steered the Royal Navy since Aegon the Conqueror," Kiren added.

"Not always," Lelouch said, "but more often than not."

Uncle turned his head from side to side. "It is good to see all of you, truly, but where is my lady wife?"

"Eunice is in her bedchambers." A worried frown touched Mother's lips. "She was feeling ill this morning."

A dark look flashed on Uncle's face before he could smother it. Blink and you might miss it, but Lelouch had spent a lifetime wearing masks. His uncle was plain as day to him.

"That sounds about right," Uncle said.

-ZeroRequiem-

Madness and greatness were two sides of the same coin. Every time Lelouch Velaryon slept, the gods tossed a coin in the air and he held his breath to see how it landed.

That night he dreamt of masterworks. Rivers crafted by men. Devices that birthed books in days instead of years. Thundersticks and smoke. Harnessed lightning. A world web through which the sum of all knowledge flowed.

Not all dreams were useful.

He could not even begin to guess how any of these masterworks could be made or what principles they operated on. His instincts told him it was no magic of ancient Valyria, but from all that he could grasp, it might as well be.

Perhaps if he could speak to the giant spider that spun the world web, there might've been something to these ideas that could help his people… alas, it would not do to dwell on hopeless endeavors.

Lelouch was no fool to be blinded by every dream or possibility. He was a dragon. He was the master of his own mind.

-ZeroRequiem-

I'm going to murder Uncle for this, Lelouch decided, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He had been dragged from bed at an ungodly hour and told to saddle his horse. They reached the Mouse House, a palatial manse overlooking the harbor of Hull just as the sun was starting to shoot its light into their eyes.

"I was going to wait 'til your nameday, but I may as well give you your gift now," Uncle said.

"I think I would have preferred that," Lelouch said.

"You're still young. A few hours less sleep and an early morning trot won't kill you."

Lelouch glared. "It'll kill someone."

They stopped beside a post and tied their horses to it. Lelouch took a moment to appreciate the building of sentinel pine, whose solemn watch over the town had not ended despite its age. Fair Marilda of Hull, the mother of Alyn the Oakenfist, had them shipped from the Wendwater Woods during the Lysene Spring, and it continued to house those of their blood to this day.

Bluebeard opened the door for them without their having to knock.

Uncle took off his dusty boot before stepping inside, and Lelouch followed suit. "Moreo, bring the thing here," Uncle said.

Bluebeard nodded and returned with a splendid box in his hands depicting scenes from the Century of Blood. Inside it was a six-sided board, eleven tiles long as its widest. A host of pieces carved from ivory and onyx stood at either side.

"What is it?" Lelouch asked, lifting up a piece with a crown.

"They call this game cyvasse, my lord." Lelouch looked up at the accented feminine voice. The woman from the ship was here. Up close, he could see her eyes, bluer than a sailor's sky. "And you hold the black king."

Uncle grinned. "This is Mysaria. She will teach you the game."

"Can't you do that, Uncle?" Lelouch asked, sparing the Essosi woman a look. The last time a Mysaria from Lys had come to the Seven Kingdoms, the dragons danced. Oh, Lady Misery was not wholly to blame for it, but as a mistress of whispers to the blacks, she'd certainly played her part.

"Don't know how to play," Uncle said. "She doesn't bite."

"Never too hard anyway," Mysaria said, showing a bit of teeth and offering them a sultry smile. "Shall we begin, my lord?"

"I will play black," Lelouch said. It felt indescribably right to him.

Mysaria knitted her brows. "The colors do not mean much beyond distinction, my lord. The first move is decided by whoever's king is closest to the centermost tile."

"Nevertheless, I will play black."

"As you wish. We begin with setup. There are five tiles you may place on your side of the board: Mountain, river, hill, forest, and grassland..."

The game began.

"You may have the first move," Lelouch said, eyeing her arrangement.

She tapped his king in the fortress on the third rank with a slender finger. "I must caution you. In Lys, the finest boardmasters always prefer to move first, else keep their king further back."

"Have you never heard the saying 'never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake'?"

"It is a poor teacher that keeps silent to errs," Mysaria said.

"Commendable," Lelouch said, "but please, play first."

Her heavy horse charged two hexes on the right flank, resting atop the sickle token of his rabble. "Second, it is not wise to split your pieces so." Again she moved the heavy horse another two hexes to the side, and removed from play two of his sickles, separate from his main host.

"In truth, I have lost little and less." His catapult on a hill loosed three tiles away. "A most worthy trade."

Then her dragon soared, ignoring the mountain and rivers to reach within spitting distance of his catapult. Dragons could move as far as a catapult's range, yet catapults could not loose twice in two turns. The piece would surely be lost next turn. "It is said when you lose a catapult, half your board is set aflame, for what might defy a dragon save another?" she asked.

"I had not known the dragon could fly over mountains." Lelouch frowned, and considered the state of the board. He brought his own dragon three tiles away from hers to check its advance, though it'd cost him both spears and crossbows. His light horse might yet live, if she chose not take it first.

Mysaria was not in the mood for mercy.

The capture of seven pieces in as many turns made her cocky, too certain in a victory yet earned. He was calm despite losing a third of his army, for such disparities birthed the greatest of victories.

The king was all that mattered. All others were the means, not the end.

While her dragon finished feasting, Lelouch prepared for the next phase. One heavy horse was pulled to the very back of the board, his last light horse hugged the leftmost edge, and the rest of his pieces occupied the hills and banks by the river.

She attacked, letting her rabble bear the brunt of his volleys while securing purchase for her horse, spears, and elephant.

Cyvasse was foreign, yet familiar. The pieces and board were different, the rules were different, but the principles? The principles of war never changed. Space, time, and force: the master of these elements, mastered the board.

The fight at the riverbanks was grim business, but his line held when finally he allowed his light horse to smash both her crossbows by the river. That, a dragon, and a catapult remained.

An elephant and catapult still guarded her king. Mysaria still held the greater force.

Yet, how many of those mattered? One catapult devoid of foes, parked in a space of diminished influence. Rabble that ambled by her dragon; adrift, purposeless, and impotent.

Power was only so when it could be directed like a sword's point.

His counterattack began by moving his king.

"A strange choice," she said. "It is safer in the fortress than outside."

"If the king does not lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?"

She pushed her lonely catapult forward and he sent his heavy horse outside the sphere of his dragon, tempting her dragon further south. Mysaria took it without sparing the board another thought.

Greed is ever the downfall of men.

His dragon flew north, putting it in striking range of her elephant. Her eyes narrowed, and she flew her dragon towards his king, forced to stop just out of his catapults range.

Dragon took elephant, catapult took dragon. Then his light horse charged, jumping three steps then two and the Lyseni realized the trap she had sprung.

Mysaria moved her dragon in desperation, and found its reach lacking by one tile.

"Morghulis," Lelouch declared as his light horse descended on her catapult, and threatened her king, "and coincidentally, death in two. Another round?"

Mysaria bowed her head slightly. "I have nothing left to teach you, honored lord. I know only of the one form."

"I will be the judge of that." Lelouch leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "There are other ways to play?"

"Hundreds, it is said. The Volantene parlors make new forms daily as it strikes their liking and certain Magisters of Myr are known to play the weaker board for greater odds in a wager. All that is needed is for two to agree."

Lelouch set aside two of his six sickle tokens. When possible, faith ought not be placed in rabble for warcraft. "To keep it interesting then."

-ZeroRequiem-

The patriarch of their house sat on the Driftwood Throne. Legends say it was a gift from the Merling King, and while Lelouch could not verify the truth of that tale, the ancient airs about it were authentic. He could spot spots of blackened wood and char from where he sat—a reminder of their ignoble defeat at the Battle of Gullet.

Spicetown sacked. High Tide razed.

Father's chair would have burned too, if not for the valiant efforts of a Goodchair, whose grandson Ser Derreck now raised a glass in honor of Lelouch's nameday.

"A fine son for a fine lord!"

"Hear, hear!"

Lord Jaron Velaryon pushed himself up with his cane, and silenced the hall with that act. "Good sers, my eldest son was born in the heart of winter. It seems fitting to me that this winter heralds a new start for him."

"It is traditional that a Velaryon sets sail of his fifteenth nameday. My grandfather did it, my father did it, and so I too shall embark on an expedition of my choosing," Lelouch said as a round of cheers broke out. He raised his glass of watered white, a sour Riverland bottle. "I will bring honor to my house, glory to my men, and riches to our women!"

"Seahorse! Seahorse!"

"The old, the true, the brave!"

"The Young Velaryon!"

Pretty words and empty gestures, but necessary ones. If he wanted to meet even half of his ambitions, he'd need men of sword, shield, and sail. Besides, words were free, loyalty wasn't. In the days to come, he'd need these same men to join his voyage and captain his squadrons.

That night he spoke with his parents.

"Fine words, my boy," Father said. "So where shall it be? Volantis like your grandfather? Braavos like me?"

"No, not Essos. I think it fitting that my maiden voyage be to family," Lelouch said, tilting his head towards his aunt and his mother. "First, to Waterflow Keep, then to Evenfall Hall. Perhaps to Sunspear or the Arbor, to restock our cellars with some proper vintage, and to the Hightowers as well."

Father steepled his fingers. "I would hear your reasons."

"We cannot be the Lords of Tide without ships," Lelouch said, "and those require wood. Our stores are running low and the Wendwaters could rectify that. They have the kingswood and their own vast forests to draw from, and a river to move timber quickly."

"The Brunes have wood, and are closer to Driftmark. Why not them?" Father asked, staring him down.

"They are not family. It is easier to strengthen ties than to make new ones," Lelouch said. "I had hoped to bring Aunt Eunice and Kiren with me."

"Not your uncle or Donnall?"

"It wouldn't be politic. They may join me for the rest of the expedition, but not at Waterflow Keep."

Father nodded. "And Tarth?"

"Mother's family. Plus, if we should ever need allies to fight pirates in the Stepstones, House Tarth would be the natural choice. As for Oldtown, does my brother not squire there? I would not let him grow so distant from us. The other stops involve Great Houses we might profit from through trade, but are not vital," Lelouch said.

Father smiled. Jaron Velaryon did not smile. "Finally, our son speaks sense."

I've always spoken sense! Lelouch bit his tongue, tasting warm copper.

Mother slapped his father's arm. "Don't be like that, Jaron. He was just a boy when he spoke of civilizing Sothoryos and making Sarnor great again."

"Your aunt Eunice and Kiren will join you to Wendwater," Father continued with a smile, "and your uncle and his bastard afterwards."

"You approve?" Lelouch asked.

Father stood. "Yes. Do not disappoint me."