The Velaryon and Celtigar families had served as vassals since the days of Valyria.
The difference was that House Targaryen possessed dragons, making them the lofty "Dragonlords," while the Velaryons and Celtigars were rely ordinary noble houses.
When the three houses crossed the Narrow Sea, the Targaryens occupied Dragonstone, the volcanic island.
The Velaryons settled on Driftmark, while the Celtigars took Crab Isle.
During Aegon the Conqueror's invasion of Westeros, they loyally rode at his side.
When House Targaryen eventually fell, the Velaryons and Celtigars simply changed allegiance to serve new kings.
Still, Viserys believed that once they left Dragonstone, their ties of fealty could be used to bring these houses along. Vassal population was still population. Vassal armies were still armies.
Simply handing them over to the Usurper would be a waste.
Seeing Viserys ask this, Lamy was montarily stunned.
Though he was currently a prince without real authority, as the designated heir of House Targaryen, Lamy dared not act carelessly.
He quickly explained, "Your Highness, I will send ravens to Driftmark and Crab Isle as soon as possible, ordering them to dispatch forces to guard Dragonstone."
"Yes, the Velaryon and Celtigar families have always been loyal vassals to House Targaryen. I believe they will respond swiftly."
His initiative surprised Rhaella as well.
She knew her son had spent almost his entire life cooped up within the Red Keep, never once setting foot on Dragonstone.
Yet in this strange, unfamiliar environnt, he showed no fear, only a swift adaptability. She rembered that even her proud eldest son might not have handled the situation so well at this age.
Even she herself had not thought of such matters so quickly.
Still, there were flaws in Viserys' assumptions.
Naly, that neither he nor Lamy truly believed the Velaryons and Celtigars would remain loyal after House Targaryen lost the Iron Throne and its dragons.
Nevertheless, Viserys' calm and composed deanor was remarkable enough.
Besides, Viserys had no intention of issuing a direct command to have troops and supplies sent imdiately.
He simply intended to "show his face" and remind the vassals where their loyalties lay.
....
anwhile, on Driftmark.
At High Tide.
High Tide was the Velaryon family's seat of power. However, after being ravaged by a war over a century ago, it had never regained its forr splendor.
Currently, the acting castellan of High Tide was a maester who had served the Velaryon family for over twenty years.
His na was Xavier, and he was now fifty years old.
Despite his age, he remained robust and vigorous, his hair thick and full. One might have mistaken him for a knight at first glance.
Xavier received two letters: one from King's Landing, the other from Dragonstone.
The letter from King's Landing was naturally from Lucerys.
Lucerys' command was simple — preserve strength. In other words, ignore any royal summons from Dragonstone.
Lucerys believed King's Landing would inevitably fall.
There was no need for House Velaryon to perish alongside House Targaryen. The ssage from Dragonstone, on the other hand, urged Xavier to send troops to protect the royal family.
As a maester, Xavier's first duty was to his lord, not the crown.
Thus, watching two boys practice swordsmanship with wooden swords, Xavier calmly tore the letter from Dragonstone to pieces.
...
A similar choice was made on Crab Isle.
The lord of Crab Isle was now Count Adrian.
He was a man in his forties, vigorous and energetic.
However, all his energy was focused on business dealings. When he received the summons from Dragonstone, he was busy tallying accounts in his wine cellar.
Taking the letter from his maester, Adrian muttered with so reluctance,
"Send five... no, three shiploads of grain to Dragonstone."
"And with what ships are we to send them?"
The maester, who had served Adrian for more than ten years, knew very well what sort of man his lord was.
"Use the warships."
Warships were fast, while cargo ships were slow but could carry much more. The miserly Count Adrian was clearly unwilling to use his cargo ships for such a task.
After the maester left, Adrian stood gazing at his wine cellar.
It was a natural cave, filled from end to end with barrels of wine.
And wine was not all it held.
There were precious goods from the Free Cities: carpets from Myr, glassware from Volantis, fine wines from Lys, jewelry from Norvos, and vast hoards of gold and silver.
The wealth in that cellar accounted for more than seventy percent of Crab Isle's total riches.
Adrian, ever the miser, even refused to repair the docks, patching them up only when absolutely necessary.
He lived frugally, seldom eating soft bread unless necessary.
Decades earlier, Driftmark had been crippled by war, and Crab Isle had seized the opportunity to replace it in trade with Essos. Adrian, a miser at heart, was not concerned with the fall of House Targaryen.
He only cared about securing his own survival in the coming chaos. Thus, he too chose to ignore Dragonstone's summons.
Of course, neither the Velaryons nor the Celtigars publicly broke ties or declared open rebellion. Both claid they needed "ti to prepare."
How long such preparation would take, however, remained uncertain.
In secret, they also sought to make contact with the leader of the rebellion — Robert.
At this ti, Robert Baratheon had just won the Battle of the Trident. The armies of the Stormlands, the North, and the Vale had converged victoriously at Riverrun.
The banners of dozens, perhaps hundreds of houses, fluttered proudly. Their camps stretched for miles, a testant to the strength of the "rebellion."
The black-and-red dragon banner of House Targaryen was trampled underfoot, much like the broken and battered corpse of Prince Rhaegar, who Robert had smashed with his warhamr.
Amidst the sea of colorful standards, four were most prominent:
The yellow crowned stag of House Baratheon, The blue falcon of House Arryn, The gray direwolf of House Stark,
And the silver trout of House Tully.
They were the backbone of the rebellion.
Inside the great hall of Riverrun, the leaders of the rebellion had gathered.
The banners of each house adorned the walls.
Robert Baratheon sat high upon the lord's seat, lifting a goblet larger than most n's heads in celebration. Nobles flocked around him, eager to flatter and curry favor.
"Hey, Ned! Drink up! What are you daydreaming about?" Robert's voice was booming, shaking the very rafters.
The "Ned" he called out to was none other than Eddard Stark, heir to Winterfell. His friends called him Ned.
Yet even after their great victory, Eddard did not smile.
One of the reasons they had raised banners in rebellion was the abduction of his sister, Lyanna, by Prince Rhaegar. She had also been Robert's betrothed.
Eddard had hoped that if they captured Rhaegar, he could ask him where Lyanna was.
But Robert had killed Rhaegar outright on the battlefield. Now the only chance of finding his sister lay in King's Landing.
He had no heart for revelry, only a burning urgency to march on the capital.
"Robert, we should march on King's Landing imdiately," Eddard said, his voice cold and hard, like the winds of the North.
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