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Together, in that first exaltation, that first roaring sense of uplift, they are greater than their two separate selves. Together, they see further, and they see more clearly. (Levels of Life, Julian Barnes)
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“Perhaps we could fly together, if not to the ends of the earth, then at least to High Tide,” Corlys said to Rhaenys, as they were breaking their fast the morning after their wedding night. The heir to the heir to the throne warranted nothing less than a magnificent royal wedding amidst the full splendor of court, and her groom was proud and overjoyed to share that honor with her. But now he was eager and impatient to show his bride the grand improvements and expansions he had made to his own castle, improvements and expansions he had deemed necessary to turn High Tide into a fitting abode for a princess of royal blood who was second in line to the throne, for a queen to be who would make Corlys Velaryon an ancestor to a long line of monarchs reigning on the Iron Throne.
“Fly together?” Rhaenys raised her splendidly expressive eyebrows, as black as coal as her hair. “Do you have a dragon hidden somewhere that I am not aware of, my lord? Have I wed a secret dragonrider, pray tell?”
Her husband guffawed. “Oh, well-played, my princess. Well-played indeed.”
Rhaenys received this compliment with a nod and an arch smile.
Corlys continued, “You could take me flying on Meleys, I mean. I have a hankering to arrive in High Tide before the evening tides roll in. A dragon would get us to our destination faster than any ship in the world. You said so yourself.”
“Take you flying on Meleys? As my passenger, you mean? Are you certain your manly pride could withstand it? You would have to put your arms around your wife’s waist, holding on for dear life, relying and depending on a woman’s shelter and protection high up there in the sky. Many men – insecure men – would find that prospect too humiliating, and too crushing and demeaning for their fragile ego.”
“I am manly enough to withstand anything,” declared Corlys, his eyes glinting. He grinned, before adding, “And you would not have married me if you thought me fragile and insecure, my love. You would never have wed any man you deemed unworthy of your hand, and of your bed.”
Rhaenys snorted, to hide her own blossoming grin. “I suppose insecurity has never been one of your problems,” she remarked.
But is he not perhaps too secure in his sense of superiority, too full of himself, and much too proud of his own accomplishments? her mother had asked, with deep concern, when Rhaenys first floated the notion of marrying Corlys. Like her husband and her daughter, Lady Jocelyn believed that the abundant wealth and influence of House Velaryon would be of great benefit and support to the first ruling queen sitting on the Iron Throne, but nonetheless, she harbored grave doubts about Corlys Velaryon’s personal qualities. Is he truly the kind of man who would be content to stand in the shadow, who would be content to be a subservient consort to a ruling queen?
I share your concern, Mother, but I believe that a deeply insecure man would make an even worse consort for a ruling queen, Rhaenys had responded. Lord Corlys is a proud man, yes, a very proud and accomplished man who has already achieved great things in his life, great things that he is rightfully proud of. He is restless and ambitious, I do not deny it, but he is also a man who knows his own worth, and has proven his own worth. He would not feel the need to demean and degrade his wife to feel good about himself, I would wager, for he feels very good about himself already.
Would you wager your happiness on it? And your crown? queried Lady Jocelyn.
After gently kissing her mother’s cheek, Rhaenys had replied, I am not insecure about my ability to keep his presumptions in check, Mother. With a voice as hard as steel, she added, I am the blood of the dragon and the fury of the Baratheons combined. And I am a dragonrider. If any husband of mine ever entertains the thought of dominating me, or usurping my rightful duty, then he will have to answer to me and my dragon both. He will know this to be true from the beginning, from the very first day of our marriage.
“We will fly to High Tide together,” announced Rhaenys to her husband, “if Meleys will have you on her back.”
The Red Queen hissed, snapping her wings and lashing her tail when Corlys first approached her, but the she-dragon swiftly turned as docile as a lamb after Rhaenys finally, finally took her husband’s hand and helped him to mount her dragon.
“What a fickle and changeable nature she has,” Corlys remarked, about the dragon. “It is astonishing how different she is from her mistress.”
“I am her rider, not her mistress. And she is not fickle,” countered Rhaenys. “She was merely waiting for the sign.”
“The sign?”
“The sign that you are a friend and not a foe.”
“The sign from her rider?”
Rhaenys nodded.
His brow furrowed, Corlys asked, “What would have happened earlier, had you not taken my hand?”
“You wouldn’t want to find out, trust me.”
Corlys’ hands were very lightly wrapped around Rhaenys’ waist at first, the way he had embraced her on the day she told him that he was now welcomed to ask for her hand in marriage. But as Meleys began her ascent, as the dragon roared and rose up to the sky, Rhaenys could feel her husband’s grasp tightening, could hear his voice muttering prayers and offerings to the gods.
“You will be safe,” she told him, “as long as you hold on to me, and never let go.”
Once the dragon had settled on a somewhat consistent flying height and speed, then and only then did Corlys feel at ease enough to loosen his grasp, and to speak. “Is it always that loud, a dragon’s ascent?” he asked.
“It is, yes,” answered Rhaenys. “That first moment of uplift is the best,” she revealed, in a voice full of passion. “The feeling is potent and powerful beyond belief. Very little in the world could compete with it.”
“The best? Why?”
“A rider feels at one with her dragon, at the moment of ascent. She feels as if they have been united, as if they have been joined together with a sanctified and unbreakable bond, to form a wiser and more superior being to either of them.”
“A dragon-human hybrid? Such a thing is impossible, surely?”
Rhaenys laughed. “I do not mean it so literally. A connection forged deep in the souls, in the deepest recesses of our hearts and minds; that is what I mean.”
Corlys was silent for a long while, before admitting, “Perhaps this will make me sound as insecure as the kind of weak men you loathe, but the truth is, I am envious, envious of the bond you share with your dragon.”
“Well, at least you are secure enough to admit it to me, rather than resenting it in silence behind my back. And secure enough not to wish the breaking of that bond between myself and my dragon, I hope?”
“I would not wish it for the world. I only wish to forge another bond that is equally as strong, between us.”