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bohemian-nights · 1 month

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What We May Mend Chapter 6

Word count: ~14,576

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Laena Velaryon

Warnings ⚠️: None

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them🐉

AN: I was late coming into this world so I might as well be late updating these chapters.

Laena must deal with the aftermath of the conflict. 🌊

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

“Will you try eating something sweetling?” Laena tried asking the small girl sitting at her side with a smile that was most surely strained, but that could not be helped. Honey skin gone pale. She had not spoken a word since she had arrived at their chambers and that had been hours past now. They had broken their fast, rested for an age through the rising day, and noon had come and gone yet she had remained unmoved.

Rhaena was not a very talkative girl and she was indeed fairly prone to melancholy for a child of her age, but she had never seen her like this.

Just looking at her made her heart ache. Felt her with woe that she wanted to snuff out and replace back with the light of her happy girl.

“Would you like to hold the Aemon?” Bess had brought him in with their breakfast. They had all had their fill. He had been content after. She nodded her head and that ache twisted in her chest when she grabbed hold of the babe.

Daemon had locked them away in their bed chambers. Barred to anyone except their little ones and her parents who were due for a visit.

Laena did not protest against it. She was to be resting. Maesters orders and she did not wish for company or for whatever they might bring. A couple had tried, Daeron muffling some half apology through the door when the maids cleared away breakfast. No doubt prompted by his little wife or his father who had seen sense enough that he had gone too far in his bitterness.

Then she heard a voice that sounded as if it belonged to Ser Criston arguing with one of the men posted at the door. It was difficult to say if Alicent had come with him, she had, but Daemon looked as if he were a cat that had gotten into the cream when guards turned them away though she could not say she had behaved any better when the guards had turned away the shrill voice of her cousin and her brood of miscreants. She was after all the reason why Maester Croton had ordered this new and hopefully brief bout of bed rest. She could not overextend herself conversing with the lot who had put her here.

Besides, the children were all the company she wanted or needed. Gazing upon the small girl staring blankly at the tapestry on the other side of their chamber with Aemon in her hold, the only thing that seemed to placate her, they needed her just as much as she had needed them.

“Would you like a lemon cake?” Twas her favorite. The girl could eat a whole tray if she let her without a care if it caused her stomach to turn well into the next day.

Laena had sent for them in hopes that they would cheer her up, and had even eaten one, to tempt her. Stomaching the tart-sweet with embellishments of satisfaction as she bit into it. It was a small thing to pay Tampering down the need to screw up her nose at the taste, she had never understood how someone could find the bitterness that stuck to the back of one's throat pleasing, but she had downed the little cake in two bites for her.

However, Rhaena looked at the treat in her mothers hands the same way one would look at a sheet of parchment. Bouncing her brother upon her knee with no reflection.

“The weather is decent enough.” Daemon had joined them on their bed to stroke a hand down Rhaena’s cheek. “Caraxes will be growing restless.”

Laena had tried not to let the sight of that distract her. She could not decide if it was a strange thing or sweet.

It was sweet when Rhaena did not flinch away. She did not lean into him either, but it looked natural. Like he had done so a thousand times before. Seeing him speak to her with a quiet voice that was usually reserved for Baela when he wished to dote upon her would’ve made her heart soar.

Mayhaps she would have counted this as progress another time, but his fatherly affections and simple temptations were not the thing that brought her cheer.

Aemon chose then to let out a gurgle. She looked

down at him with a whisper of a smile. It was something. Something that Laena clung to and tried to take hold of and stoke back the fire of life into her, but that too was no use. Rhaena was much more interested in making sure the restless babe in her arms was content than in her father's offer that would bring her own contentment.

“Why do you not go with your kepa Rhaena?” That suggestion did not have its intended effect. Quite the opposite, it only served to push her further away.

The small smile their girl wore faded as if it had never been there. Laena grew desperate to get it back. Trying once more while trying not to loss

“Just you and Kepa while Baela keeps me company. Her attention was drawn to the small babe who had grabbed onto Rhaena’s finger and was using it to suckle on. He would be crying for his noon snack in a few minutes, greedy little thing he was, but for now, he was preoccupied with the diversion

“You may bring Aemon if you wish.” That had only served to bring about a lost look in her eyes. Whispering to her with pleadings that went unsaid, but no less known. You know what I wish for. That unspoken request, but where she would not or rather could not utter it her sister voiced it for her.

“Has Aemond left?” It was said so quietly by Baela that one would have missed it. Odd indeed for their eldest, for she had never been prone to shyness unlike her sister, but there was a reason for the quietness of the query.

She had told them so twice now. Whispered and then when luncheon had been served. “She would like to see him.” Always finding some way to redirect their attention back to this want much to her father's annoyance who was less than amused.

“No.” To both or two either one did not need to ask. Pale green eyes darkened at the onset of the first query turning black and as hard as stone by the second. Leaving no room to ponder over his meaning, but that did little to sway Baela against the topic of conversation.

“He is her betrothed,” she scrunched up her dark brow, silver head high in indignation not used to being dismissed as such. “You and Muna agreed to it, Kepa!” Baela’s irritation increased tenfold at her pleas having been ignored thrice now.

She had never been a patient girl. Requests denied few and far between. He might love all their children equally, but she was his favorite and Daemon was always more than willing to make sure they were met. If she was a more self-involved girl she would've, but she had her moments of unrelenting stubbornness show ever just as she had not been placated by her father's unyielding word so had he not been endeared by her tantrum. Both were as stubborn as the beasts their ancestors had tamed. Laena dared not give voice to that lest they began to spout out fire with objections and as they did too.

“My brother agreed to it pet,” She could see him trying to restrain his irritation. Emotions churning within the man. Annoyance redirected to his brother.

It would have been comical, his eyes knitting together as the tips of his ears grew a light shade of red. flushed with his anger. The look of a little boy dejected on such a matter as a betrothal at his age was comical indeed, but the comedy soon lost all its charm with his next words. “And your mother was led astray.”

Laena bit her tongue. busying herself with petting the back of their sullen girl's locks. She focused on the brush of her hand upon the braided strands. Letting the feel of the wiry curls against her palm calm her though it still took a considerable deal of restraint to keep her eyes upon Rhaena and not turn them to her husband to glare at.

Led astray. If she was led astray what was he?

A man led by his pride. The folly of all men. Her mother's words still ringed around in her head. Maphaps more clearly now than when Alicent’s had come to visit her— yesterday? Only yesterday. Less than a day in truth.

After the night last it felt like a fortnight between the night and day or at least more than a few hours had passed between when they had spoken in private about the betrothals and now. Now Daemon was threatening to undo that work.

Led astray. How in the seven could he say such a thing?

Was it not they, Viserys, her father, and Daemon himself rather than the Hightowers who were the reason why they were in this mess?

They were Targaryens, Velaryons, it was they who made the rules, they who ruled. Had they not been led astray by their egos and ambition for it?

Perhaps it was a bit cruel of her to add him into the lot, true Daemon had a right to be weary after the chaos that ensued in the wee hours of the morn and before that.

He and the hand had always been at odds. Her husband was not an easy man and that uneasiness extended to Otto Hightower, but she knew the discord between them was not all his doing. The man excluded him whenever and wherever he could. Council meetings, political dealings, trade arguments, and the running of the kingdom. Taking a special kind of joy in it.

It was not all malicious. There was a practicality in it. A reason for his methods. For the callousness of it all. Pushing him further and further away from the position he so coveted. There could only be one man at the king's side. Or at least that is how they saw things. A king only had one hand after all.

Ser Otto had seen to it that the man was him and not the king's brother, even driving out her father in the process of trying to remove her husband from being in Viserys sphere of influence, but he was being utterly ridiculous now.

She had made the deal with Alicent. Not her father. He would’ve never agreed to it. He wanted this no more than Daemon. Mayhaps less, for this arrangement would mean a yielding of sorts, a yielding of the power which he hoarded for himself.

Alicent only wished for the power to protect her children. Not power for power's sake. There was no harm in letting their girl see the boy, by the Gods, she would be with her and she’d never let their girl be harmed or abused. Alicent would not harm her and most certainly Aemond would not seek to lay a hand or a word against her.

The boy was not his grandsire. He was not a malicious spiteful creature. He was not some viper waiting in the dead of night at the ready to strike and take what he held dear away from him.

He may come from one, but he was not a Hightower. He was a Targaryen as his father was before him. The same as Baela, Rhaena, and Aemon. More importantly, he was a child. Nothing more than a child with a child’s wants and regards.

He could have shown more tact and forth thought in his quest, but painful as it may be, she could not fault him for claiming Seasmoke when he had. It was as if the chance of claiming him would present and Laenor was gone. Buried at the bottom of the sea and never to ride his beloved mount again, but that slender gray beast that he loved so much was very much alive and a dragon would have its rider.

He was never to not go unclaimed, no one expected that. None could expect that.

Rhaena had wanted him. They all knew that. Twas she who had wished to claim her brother's dragon for her own and therefore it was her opinion and her option alone which Laena cared for on the subject, but their girl was not upset by what was done.

A dragon chooses his master just as much as the master chooses him. Seasmoke had chosen Aemond from forces higher than they were to understand or know as mere mortal men made of flesh and blood. Seasmoke was without a rider The boy had done no wrong in claiming him. He was not spiteful in his doing. He was not petty, certainly not to his uncle or to his cousins, or no matter how some of them may feel about his claim. They had dragons of their own after all and the deed had already been done.

He was a Targaryen and had done as a Targaryen would. He had only taken what he wanted.

Only took what was his and he had hurt no one doing so. had paid the price with blood chiefly his own.

He did not even behave like his father whom her husband loathed and loved so much. Though mayhaps he’d like him better if he was. Mayhaps he would like him better if he was like those other boys who were so favored by his brother. If he had his love he might learn to love the boy himself or he might admire him even if he could see himself in him there was more than enough between them to decipher their similarities, but that did not matter. It did not matter if he liked the boy or loved him.

Rhaena mattered it was her wants, her needs, and her feelings that were most important and if she was this despondent it could only do her good to see him. Could he not see that? See that she was suffering? That she was wanting? It was such a small thing and they could give it to her. An inconsequential thing. There was no harm in it or inconvenience. Absolutely no harm in letting her see the boy.

“Will I marry cousin Aegon?” Baela asked. Snapping her mother from her thoughts. Her brown face now graced the expression her mother wished to make as her father glared at the word cousin though this line of questioning appeared to not anger him so.

She poked her lip out and crossed her arms as she asked. Waiting for some kind of answer that her father could not ignore. She would have stamped her feet in indignation if she had been standing. Impatient girl she was.

“For now.” The words were clipped. Strained as if containing a growl. Two simple words a pain to the lips they had broken free of.

It was not a no at least. It was the best that one could hope for given the circumstances. It was indeed something that Laena could work with. For now could easily turn into a yes when the time came. When he had seen the benefit. And really who else was Baela to marry? Some Andal lord from halfway across the continent? A foreign prince? One of her brother's sons?

Hardly likely on all accounts. Each one was more disagreeable than the last and the last was downright unbearable. The thought that she could make her torturer happy by doing so—

She would rather fling herself into the sea below them with a chain of iron around her ankle and join her dearly departed brother than fold to her cousin turned nieces ravenous entreaties.

They had already made enough concessions to one greedy cousin with Aemon and the unborn babe in Hazel Hearte’s belly or the next one after that if this one proved ill-fated for whatever reason. Though Laena almost had half a mind to climb upon Vhagars back, take flight down to Storm's End, and make a proposal to the great oaf whom her mother happened to share blood with.

By all accounts her Baratheon cousin's plentiful lot, five of them to count and still yet growing, were fine young girls, unlike their bullheaded father. He had a little one who was only a year or two older than Aemon. In due course, she would turn into a perfectly well-bred lady worthy of the title lady of the tides as her great aunt's wife. Borros certainly could do worse than a dragonrider and the lord of the wealthiest house in the seven kingdoms with the largest fleet at his command for a good son. The brother of the future queen. He should be so grateful.

It would be an honor for a second daughter much less for a fifth one and it would certainly help mend the rift between their respective clans, but a promise had already been made. Or as good as one.

No matter how odious the man was whom they had made that promise to, and what great distress he had lent his hand to a promise was a promise. Laena would not go back upon the unspoken agreement just to satisfy her pettiness and there would be no good in it besides extracting some quest of revenge that was entirely unnecessary. Not that revenge was never justified, and most certainly was not in this case, but Daeron could easily be brought to heel the same as any other man. His wants were as redundant and common as the rest and his anger though temperamental and prone to brashness.

However, Rhaenyra’s requests were not as common and rudimentary as mere men and their petty demands. She wanted and she wanted and still wanted more.

Twas not enough to accept. That would never be the She would take a whiff and latch, a bit, whatever they would concede to her and latch like the wild dragons when. she’d devour her whole if she could. She wanted to devour her until, but there had been nothing to find. Her shield was impenetrable.

She and more importantly Daemon had made so much as a hint of such an agreement to her brother's widow and her litter. Laena had seen with her own eyes that ridiculous letter she had sent, turned into ash by his hand a fortnight ago. Last night he had not gone to see her. Even if he had not done as he had, Laena would never make good on those promises or fold to her antics and it seemed neither would Baela.

Their girl hadn't been quieted by her father's word as he had hoped. No, they had only spurred her inquisition on.

“Who shall Rhaena marry? She can not marry Aemon,” Her mouth curled down in disgust as she looked down at the babe in her sister's hold at the prospect. A look she was sure she mirrored. Pulling the blanket wrapped around her tighter she felt a chill going up her spine as she tried to banish the thought away. “He is too little and she can not marry the other boy that cousin Rhaenyra wishes her to.”

The other boy. Laena wanted to cackle at that, but she knew Daemon would take it as a sign that she had been tired out and the children would be sent back to the nursery. She couldn’t have that so she hid placing a kiss on the crown of Rhaena’s locks.

Baela knew good and well who the other boy was, but there was a great deal of comfort in her not naming him. The Gods knew how much the Valyrian lady took comfort in her not naming it. Naming meant something. A name meant personhood. They were more than just some faceless figures. A name meant a connection.

She did not know any of her cousins well or at all for that matter, but she had managed to name Aegon and Aemond even if she did not, but he, her brother's son, was the other boy.

“He is not Uncle Laenors son,” Baela continued, turning to her with that dignified expression which did not quite fit her years. “He is a bastard. They are all bastards, are they not muna?”

She was right of course, more right than Laena would say or than he would admit. Aegon had been right with his assessment of his half-nephew's true parentage. One needed only to gaze upon and then back at the Velaryons and Targaryens scattered about Hide Tide to know they were not as they should be. No true Velaryon would have hair the color of raven feathers, eyes the color of the sky, or noses so common that one could place them anywhere.

Saints above there were low-born bastards in King's Landing on the streets of Flea Bottom or Hull as common as could be who looked more Valyrian than they. Their mothers were whores or the daughters and wives sailors and shopkeepers and yet they had still managed to inherit the visage of Old Valyria

Like black rams among a flock of sheep. It was more than obvious what Laenor’s sons were not sired by him.

But saying the words out loud, confirming who they were, she could not bring herself to admit to it.

Regardless of which loins they had sprung from, they had been Laenors. He claimed them as his own. Watched over them. Cared for them.

He was not perfect, it was not an easy thing, but he loved them.

Mayhaps not as much as she loved her children. Laena often wondered if men were even capable of that kind of love, but it was love, and those boys loved him in return.

It would be almost sacrilegious to not acknowledge it. To disrespect that bond that was not her own or hers to comment upon with Laenor rotting at the bottom of the sea so she froze.

Her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish. Gasping for air as she stuttered. Her brain scrambled for a reply that was appropriate to the girl who had started to smirk beneath what she supposed passed as a pious brown face, but in reality made her all the more impish.

It was little wonder why then that seemed to be the extent of her husband's patience.

A hand rubbed into his brow as he let out a huff of breath. Laena wondered if he'd send the girl for a nap to end her prattling. Thankfully one of the guards, the same boy which he had posted outside their door, knocked upon it and let in one of the serving boys clutching something tightly between sweaty fingers.

Twas a note from her father. Summoning Daemon for some matter which he was urgently needed by the way he spoke with a flurry and by the lines and deep furrows that grew upon his face when he had stepped away into the sitting room to deal with the matter. His animation increased by the second the boy had not been deterred by his barking focused upon the task of getting her husband to heed her fathers message.

The Stepstones if she had to guess the topic of it from the near silent hisses and from the sliver left by the door halfway shut.

Daemon had whispered into her ear when they had exhausted themselves last night. A thought which she had to bite her bottom lip to distract herself as she felt her face grow flush with heat.

It had been a pleasant night. A very pleasant morning, she could almost feel his skin upon hers, his breath ghosting the shell of her ear, and taste the sweetness of his tongue upon her, but the memory of their love making faded with the taste of something more than the bitterness of the lemon cakes upon her tongue when she recalled what would be in that note.

War. The call of the battlefield. That bloody business of men which her father was about to thrust himself within. A necessary evil some men would say how they would rationalize it, but that was not what this was.

Twas his way out of all of this. His escape from dealing with what had happened with Laenor. Which had almost happened to her. He wanted away.

She knew he loved her. That he loved and still loved her brother despite his frustrations with what he felt were his deficiencies as a man. There was no doubt that her mother was the very center of his world. It was not a question of love or his paternal or martial devotion, but her father had never been any good at dealing with his emotions and Laenor’s passing pushed him into the depths of them.

War he knew. A life at sea, with his ships, his crews and his generals traversing the vastness of that sea, journeying to distant lands, ready to take on any foe they might face was what he knew best. What he could deal with.

He was a seaman through and through. Those waters beyond Driftmarks shores were his second home and in many regards his first.

With a sword in hand everything was as it should be. The fractured pieces mending. The blood and the sweat one poured into battle was what he could wrap his mind round.

War had a way of simplifying things. Of making the complicated uncomplicated. It was primal. Raw. life stripped down and bare. The fight for survival and nothing more was all second nature. Comfort. Twas a comfort to Daemon too.

The carnage, the chaos, and the death that would follow it.

Their playing fields were different of course. The skies were Daemon’s domain just as the seas were her fathers, but the principal was the same and they had the bond of brotherhood in arms flowing through them. That camaraderie which seemed to bind men to each other. It occurred to her then that her father would call upon that bond to bring her husband with him back by his side.

Did he wish to leave her too? Go to what he knew best. Go back to a place where she didn’t make demands of him. Where the only obligation was to keep himself alive. Otherwise he could do as he pleased without having his wife breathe down on him. The threat of self implosion reflected back in a brown haze that muddied everything it touched. Did he wish that?

War or not it did not look as if he did not wish to leave. He almost looked pained to have left her side with only the distance of a few feet separating him. Snapping at the poor boy in his company while his sight turned to her. She felt her breath lighten when she met his eyes.

Laena couldn’t bear the thought if he had turned away from her. If his eyes were alight with the call to war and not with an apology in their emeralds depths. If he had not dismissed the serving boy with another bark that sent him trembling, scurrying back to her father with his reply. He joined them again with heavy steps and a sigh.

“Eat something for your mother,” Daemon bent down to place a kiss Rhaena’s head in his hands when he reached them. Bending down to place.

He had not looked this exhausted since Laena had awoken. She could not help feeling a pull within her chest when she saw the hard edge of his jaw softening at their girl.

For her part Rhaena did not lean into his affection. Growing stiff when he placed a kiss into her curls. It threw her husband off kilter. His movements grew uncertain. Arms laying stiffly at his side as if he did not know quite what to do with her rejection.

It was a rare thing for her to receive his attentions. They were almost exclusively reserved for her sister and now Aemon, but today he had given it all to her. If she had been in better spirits she would have lapped it up beaming with a halo around her, but now that affection was like the taste of dirt. Soiled and unwanted.

He turned, but she could only answer him with a small shrug and a softening of her gaze. Petting the girl to calm her. She could not blame her for the small act of defiance. Not after everything. Now then, before. She was a child. Their child, and she could not blame her for snuggling closer into her embrace while she turned her back to her father.

The tension in her small body only left when her Daemon had hastily moved on to place a kiss upon the downy head of her brother and then Baela who clung to him where she. Wrapping her little arms around his head to return his affection before he pulled away to repeat his goodbye to Laena.

“Send for Bess if the little monsters wear you out.” The cod in his voice let some of unease dissipate from the room as his lips ghosted her temple. Eyes drifting over to the silver haired girl sporting a pout and winked at her as she huffed in good natured exasperation.

He was trying at least. Trying for her. for them even if that trying would take a while and never wash away the stain of the bruises embedded within them, he was trying.

The door had barely been shut, Daemon hardly left from earshot when Baela renewed the conversation. Not quite yet willing to let the situation of betrothals and betrotheds be put to rest.

“He said I would be queen,” She had her eyes upon her brother in her hold as she reached out a hand to pet him. The corners of her eyes and mouth twitched in amusement when he nuzzled his head into her palm. She was growing better with him. Gentler. In the same way she was when she and Rhaena had been little and she had taken to her role as elder sister like a fish to water.

Mayhaps she had taken her fathers words to heart and seen sense not to cause her mother further distress with her sister occupying her plate, or rather she did not wish to destress her with sibling quarrels and thought the continuation of this subject was a more suitable distraction.

Laena was more than grateful for the ceasefire of hostility. She would have marveled at it. Wanted to coo at it. Even with Rhaena longing, they were safe.

All her children were safe and sound and she was with them. Her eyes watering as she smiled. She had grown ever so sentimental since she had awoken, every moment all the more precious when one nearly joins the Gods but she kept her endearments close at heart. Part because she did not wish to spoil the moment and part because of the words which Baela spoke.

“He said it was my birthright.”

“Do you wish to be queen?” Laena stiffened as she recalled a conversation not dissimilar from this one with her own mother shifting so she could brush loc away from the girl's face, but she had never been asked such a thing then. She had been told who she was and what she was destined for. She was to be queen and that was that.

She was barely older than Baela was now. Only a girl of two and ten. Still yet to receive her first moonblood. Her mother, but there had never become anything of that. She was not destined to be a queen when it was all said and done.

The only thing which she had become was the Sealords son. A consolation prize and a poor one at that. She could not say that she was upset. Oh the lord had been rich enough and had collected land aplenty to match his fortune, yet his son left much to be desired and soon that fortune went to dust.

Mayhaps she should say she felt some grief when he had been slain at Daemon's hand, but she would be lying if she admitted to feeling such.

It was cruel, but Laena had wanted rid of the boy who bored her to the point where she considered picking out her nails just for some excitement.

She had wanted to be Daemon’s when he asked for her hand. Wanted it more than anything else.

Her father had liked him and her mother did not put up much of a fight when she realized her pleas would fall upon deaf ears, but she was a child. A girl who had yet to have her six tenth name day. A sheltered girl who had never left the company of her parents, her brother, her septa, and her cousins. A girl who had not known what the world was, much less her place in it. She did not know she had choices.

Her girls would have that at least. That she had promised to them and herself. A choice. As much of one she could give them.

“Yes,” she said simply.

I had wanted that. I had not even questioned when my mother said I would be queen. A queen. The queen. Even to a girl was a hard thing to pass on and an even harder thing for her to understand. For a queen was more than just a title and crown. A queen was beholden to the king. Who that king was made all the difference.

“Even if it is Aegon’s queen?” Queen she may be but only the wife of a king. She would have power, but only the power which he gave her. She would never hold more power than him. Dependent upon the whims of her husband.

True enough there would be worse boys to be betrothed to than her cousin. Boys unfit for her. Cruel boys. Men even. Men who had far removed from her boyhood who would want her. The likes of the Lannister twins who had yet to find wives or Lord, Celtigars eldest son. All older than she and the former were rather solipsistic from what she could recall.

Aegon had his merits there. Even though the distance seemed vast now There were not too many years separating them. He was a boy at least the same as her. An gluttonness boy, blinded by greed and vice, he was not a cruel boy. Nor a selfish one. He had been willing to take the blame for his mother.

Of course there was the issue of his drunkenness, but he was young. Young enough hopefully to curb the worst of it and stop it before it took hold of him and left nothing to salvage the same. Young enough hopefully to mold into a decent enough husband where his and in a large regard his uncle had failed. However, once that crown was placed upon his head it was a gamble of what he would become. The Iron Throne had a way of changing the men who occupied it, even those surrounding it.

Aegon claimed that the crown was her birthright and he was to give it to her, but it would simply not be her crown. Not truly. She would bear the title queen and bore him sons but Baela would be at his whim. She would have to fold to whatever demands he made of her the same as any other subject. That was the cost of her birthright.

A queen was not simply the queen. One could never fool themselves into thinking that.

However, to credit to her Baela the question laid before her some more consideration, beginning anew with some hesitation. Mulling over her speech with careful deliberation.

“Yes.” Her head was held high again, nose pointed in the air in a rather dignified manner that made it hard to doubt her conviction. “He is not intolerable. Once one gets past the smell of the ale.” She looked older than a girl of nine with that manner of speech.

Gaining her confidence with each word she spoke. “He is not like his father. He will need help.” As did Viserys though the man did have as they all. “Lots of help and I shall birth the next king,” she looked more than happy at that. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. “It will not be a burden muna. You need not worry.”

Laena burst into laughter at the wide grin on Baela’s face, all too pleased with the level of maturity of that answer and making it all the more comical for her muna in the place of the observer of such behavior.

She could not keep the genuine mirth she felt from radiating out in that moment nor did she think she should. Oh how she had It even earned a twinkle albeit a small one from Rhaena as she hid it behind the crook of her arm she rested her head upon.

Her eldest might have her father's stubbornness and temperament, but mayhaps Daemon was right that she had inherited her sensibilities as well. She would need them sooner than she'd like to think.

Her mother came in not long after for tea as she had so promised. Rhaenys Targaryen almost immediately took up the task of trying to coax Rhaena from her melancholy, regaling her with stories of her own childhood, but her efforts proved to be just the same as the rest. The girl's mood remained steady as the rise and set of the sun. It was clear with each passing attempt that the battle was all but lost.

“She wishes to see Aemond.” Baela whispered to her grandmother as she helped herself to a lemon cake her sister refused to touch. Chewing with her mouth open, most decidedly unladylike, but Laena could not find the will to scold her for it. It was rather endearing despite the lack of manners. It was nice to see the child that she still very much was underneath the airs which she put on and the pure joy she felt towards the sweet.

She liked them as much as the younger girl, but being the gracious elder sister duty bound she always let her have most of the lot. Nothing stopped her now though she had not given into greed. “Kepa will not let her.”

Laena turned to Rhaena who had handed Aemon back to her. Taking a seat at the window as she stared out. Watching the dragons fly around freer than Rhaena restricted by Daemon and his rules.

It came from a good place. She knew it did. Stubborn and prideful as he was he was trying, but her feelings were worth more than his pride. Why should they listen to that ego when she was this way? No she could not placate him now at the expense of their girl.

“Kepa is not here.” What he does not know will not hurt him, she convinced herself. Besides, Laena would tell him—in due course. What was done When Rhaena was well again and they had enough sense and proof that taking her to see her cousin was decidedly not a danger to her and was more alluring to taking her for a ride upon Caraxes she would tell him.

What other choice did she have?

Rhaena would never improve like this. This lifeless creature she had been turned to. Why not give the girl what she wanted? Alicent had not meant her harm and most certainly Aemond would not.

She called one of the serving boys who had brought in their tea over with a wave of her injured hand while continuing to rock Aemon with the other. “Fetch my cousin Damieon.” He owed her. Of course it was not exactly he who had anything to do with her maiming, but he would be more than willing to make up for where his brother had to trampled over.

Laena received a raised brow from her mother at more than just her pick of escort, but she ignored it. Focusing her attention on her youngest daughter who looked more lively than she had a minute past.

“Come Rhaena,” the girl scrambled to her feet with such speed she had nearly knocked the tea service. Big brown eyes full of unshed. Reaching out a hand towards her mother until she put when her

“Perhaps I should take her to see the boy and his mother.” Laena did not miss the way the last word caught in the back of her mothers throat nor the strain in her expression. Mouth thinned to a line and hazel eyes darting and narrowing at her bandaged hand and then back to meet her gaze that was glazed with flames.

It was an expression she knew well. A maternal sort. A protective sort. The kind that growled, bared its teeth and dared anyone who so much as breathed in her direction, with a bark of fire. It made her feel as though she were a child again in need of protection from the ghost and phantom creatures under her bed coming to torment her in the dead of the night. Except that shape now took form in one Hightower queen, but she did not need protection from the source of her mothers wrath.

Oh there could be no doubt that her mother had liked Alicent. Rhaenys Targaryen would never make a deal with someone she did not like, or someone which she thought was a danger to her children and grandchildren at the least. However, if one were to make it past their guards burst through her chambers and ask her who she held in high regard, the Hightower queen would be at the bottom of that list of people she was fond of at the moment. She would come around in time. Stubborn yes, but she was not unreasonable unlike some, but they did not have the time to wait.

The kings party would be gone back to King's Landing in a few hours and with it their chance to remedy this

Twas now or the Gods knew when. Whenever that was it would be too late. Daemon would see to it that distance was permanent. She'll forget about him by the end of the moon Laena, he would tell her. Whisper it into her ear as he had before the morning's light greeted them. All too sure of himself that he knew what was best for their girl and in all likelihood he would be right.

She moped now, but Aemond and Rhaena did not know one another. It truly wouldn’t take much for her to forget about him and think of him no more than wave that came and went. Distractions were easy enough to come by. One trip to Dragonstone an egg placed by her side and her childish fancy would be gone as if it had never been. Daemon would make sure that was the end of it. A dragon's word was final, but he was not the only dragon which she had to contend with, not the most pressing one at that moment.

Baratheon pride in full swing her mother was already sitting up from where she had settled when Laena reached for her. The corners of her mouth perked up and her eyes softened as she tried her best to stop her from protesting further.

“Baela has exhausted herself.” She did not look at all convinced, but Baela seemed to catch onto her plans. Making little sighs as she yawned. Bringing her hand up to her face in mock stifling as if that was not good enough.

She was not a natural born actress, but she tried leaning on her grandmother to feign the appearance of sleepiness while Laena pleaded her case. “I would take her, but it is quite cruel to take her and she does so enjoy her grandmother’s company.”

Laena practically tied herself into knots as she begged her mother with a smile which she hoped reached her dark orbs. Relax. Light, keep your voice light and free of your emotion, she told herself. She will not give in if she thinks you have reached your limit. “We shall only be in the west tower and Daemion shall be with us.”

Please listen. Please.

She did not have it in her to fight this battle. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was still quite tired. Exhausted in fact. The birth of Aemon had taken most of her energy and what little she had gained over the past moon and a fortnight was nearly gone now from the swipe of Viserys blade, but Rhaena needed this. She needed her.

For Rhaena she would don her robes, leave the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her bed to venture into the den of Greens. The den of vipers as Daemon would call them.

What mother would not do that and more for their children? Never mind her own aches, Laena would not be deterred from it no matter how exhausted she felt. She was not truly hurt anyway. Just exhausted and that was no excuse for her to remain cooped up resting upon her laurels in these chambers.

Her mother must have known that there would be no amount of arguing that would change her mind or she wished not to distress her or Rhaena further. Sheletgo of her hand with a pat when Daemion appeared in the doorway. The one perk to everyone treating her as if she were an invalid.

Her cousin must have sprinted to her chamber for he was more than slightly out of breath as he greeted them with a nod barely manhunt to get out the words my lady cousin and lady aunt and a pensive expression, awaiting instruction.

“Send the boy my regards.” Her mother fixed herself back upon the settee. She caught Daemon’s, but hazel eyes shifted their focus back onto Laena. That steely gaze sharp as Valyrian steel as it bore into her. “If she starts to look faint, bring her back here. Even if she attempts to persuade you otherwise.”

Her cousin looked rather weary of the possibility of being charged with such a task and having to face the wrath of one mother dragon and likely another angry dragon and a great sealord if he failed at it, but he simply nodded his head. Not daring to open his mouth to question her command. Gifting Rhaena a sheepish smile instead. One for which Laena was exceedingly glad of it.

A kiss was brushed onto Baela’s cheek and one on her mothers while she ignored the hazel eyes still boring into her own and they were off leaving a trail of skirts in their wake.

The walk was a silent one. The distance between the guest quarters and their tower was not particularly lengthy, but it was long enough to get her bearings about her and for her mind to wonder.

Absent-mindedly her un-injured hand went to the banaged one. Rubbing it as she stared down at nothing in particular. Too preoccupied to notice anything in front of her. Her mind festered with slivers of voices, shouts, screams. Every step drawing them closer.

Even with her mind clouded with her own little worries and anxiousness to see her cousin Rhaena noticed for the little hand that was in hers gave a small squeeze. Smiling up at her it reminded her of Daemon.

Returning it in kind, Stilling herself and finding strength in it. She had no reasons to be nervous. It was she who had been the injured party even if that injury had been intended to her. Alicent owed her a debt It was she who agreed to Alicents deal and would continue to do so.

Two guards, a kingsguard and one of the household guards were posted outside the doors of the guest quarters where Alicents chamber lay. Ser Criston was absent, but Laena suspected the man could be found behind those doors next to the queen. The guards let her in without much fuss. Without a word in fact. Simply stepping back to their posts when the iron creeped as they crossed the threshold. That too she surmised was the queens doing.

It was a good thing that she expected their visit, Laena told herself. It was hope. Hope that things were not so bad in the light of day as they had been in the dark of night.

She had held onto hope too. Letting it guide her here. Turning around to face them before one of the servants could fully announce their arrival as had Aemond. The boy Rhaena did and she was off by the boys side. Her mother who she had clung to just moments past forgotten in favor of her cousin. If this was a vipers nest she had seemed to find a home among them.

“I tried to call upon you, but your guard—”Alicent had reached out a pale hand lined with rings, but stopped herself when her brown eyes caught sight of the bandages on her arm. That hand hung motionless in the air, but Laena would not have. Meeting her the rest of the way. Taking her hand in hers and placing a sisterly pat upon.

“My husbands doing,” and my own, but she did not need to know that. At any rate it was not as if she was purposely trying to exclude the Hightower queen. She only just wished to be left alone. The doors to her chambers were barred to all. Maesters orders. Twas nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for.

Not wanting to dwell on it a moment longer or let the tension fester, she added the truth to ease Alicent’s mind, “Rhaena wished to see your boy.” Her darling girl had begged for it. Refused nourishment for it, refused to even let her own mother comfort her, but all seemed well now.

“How is Aegon?” Alicent had not had time to school her features when she had frowned at the question. Then again the woman appeared to her an open book. Biting her lip or worrying her hands whenever she appeared in distress which was quite often from what little she had observed.

“With my father—he—he has calmed down.” Her eyes flitted over the light chamber. Dark pools searching for something. Someone in her hesitation. Her breath hitched when she met another brown gaze who had been standing sentinel at the children’s side instead of where he ought to be standing guard near the door.

Queen and knight were drawn together as if he too had been searching her out rather than merely executing his duties.

Laena cataloged that exchange, which could not have lasted more than a few seconds, somewhere in the back of her mind for safekeeping, not letting the sight of them take up her attention. However, she did note in that moment that the Dornish man showed the anger the anger must have felt with her eldest which was stifled under a mask of grace and sorrow.

What he had calmed down from went without saying. Hosed down and laid to dry out was the appropriate word for it considering last night. Shame it was for someone so young and in such a state of ruin upon himself.

A light blush overtook the queen's pale face when she noticed her audience. Clearing her throat as she composed herself or tried to.

“How is Baela?” Her brows knitted together as she gazed off at the door swallowing the lump in her throat with a smile that did not reach her eyes painted her face. Mayhaps she should’ve brought her, but it would have been unwise.

The girl did not hold her tongue and would likely say something about last night or her betrothal that she would have to apologize for and there needn’t be any more apologizes she would like to make.

There was no need for what ifs. Laena wanted to put the woman at ease before her.

“As long as her sister is well she is well.” Well indeed by the looks of it.

Laena spied a glance at her girl over Alicent’s shoulder. Rhaena and Aemond had been joined by Helaena. The pale girl had placed a spider into her hands.

She did not think she could be so calm had it been her hand. She would have flung the creature halfway across the room and recoiled against the wall in hopes that would end it, but Rhaena seemed content with her present circumstance. Letting the spindly thing crawl around her palm as if it were a pet and not a pest. It seemed to bring a smile on Aemond’s face as he watched the two girls.

“They will be happy.” It came out without her meaning to. Thinking out loud she supposed. It was the first bout of respite from worry she had for the better part of the morning. Her tongue had loosened along with her mind from it.

Mayhaps it was too soon to tell. Mayhaps she should keep it to herself. Bit her tongue, dug her nails into her stitches, or stubbed her foot, to stop herself from saying so. Mayhaps she should even discourage it.

They were so very young. Younger than Alicent when she had married the king. Younger even than when her own father had tried offering her to that same man.

They had scarcely two years between them. That was much better than any of them.

Though it would become immaterial by the time Baela reached Aegon's age, even they had six years between them. It showed now with Aegon on the cusp of manhood at nearly six and ten and Baela just giving up her dolls, but there was little difference between a boy of ten and a girl of eight.

Aemond had yet to grow hair upon his chest and Rhaena was far from bleeding, but the color had returned to Aemonds face and the light in her eyes. They both looked happy. Content.

They liked each other and by all accounts it was a good match. A fine match. An excellent match. No matter all Daemons posturing and objections, Aemond was a prince. He was a Targaryen. A second son yes, but Laena did not think that Viserys would be so cruel as to deny him a keep of his own nor would Aegon go back upon this promise when he took the throne.

Someplace in the Crownlands perhaps? The Reach? It was far, but Rhaena would love the greenery. Or perhaps one of the smaller isles that remained unoccupied between here and dragonstone. Regardless, it would be a place to grow and fill their halls with the patter of little feet and childish totterings, that is when the time came away and childhood had gone.

There was also the business of them being cousins rather than siblings. That most certainly didn’t hurt. It most certainly helped the Hightower queen.

Of course she knew what family she had married into. it was custom for one to marry brother to sister in their family. One must keep the bloodline pure. Had Aemon been born sooner or had Rhaena or Baela the two would have already been betrothed to each other.

Cousins were a last resort. Not ideal, but better than thinning the blood with those who were not fit to hold the title of husband or wife of a Targaryen.

House Velaryon, her birth house, would usually get that honor when times were desperate enough. They were Valyrian. Had enough, but even with the edition of House Velaryon. The family had always been rather small, but that had changed of late. There had been plenty of cousins and marriages with them.

She and Daemon were cousins, yes, but he was old enough to be her father. He treated her like a father sometimes with his chastisements. Shame to say she didn’t always mind it when he got that way. It was safe. Comforting even. Affection. Anyway she could get it. She had wanted him, she was bred for it, but she was not an oblivious child. could not ignore that.

Lanea was sure that Alicent liked the fact that she would not have to marry her sons to her daughter. Twas a queer custom the other houses never took to. The Hightowers in particular seemed less than enthused to follow their foreign rulers in their strange ways. Even the seven only tolerated it. A mere necessary evil. A necessary compromise.

Their rulers after all were more Gods than men.

They had dragons to prove it, to show for it, that required it, but the practice should not be repeated throughout the seven kingdoms. Not by common men. Not when it led to such unwelcome outcomes and if one were to be truthful, though they may be more Gods than men, the outcomes were not always favorable for them either.

Mayhaps they should end that practice. There were more than enough cousins to go around now. Cousins would do. Velaryons and Targaryens alike.

The bloodline need not suffer for it. Their bond with their mints did not have to suffer for it. The bloodline mayhaps be better off for it. Healthier for it. There was so much sickness. So much madness that went about.

There was something not quite right with so many of them.

Daemon liked to call Daenys mad. They would not be here without her, would have perished with the rest of the old country, but she had been odd even by the standards of their house. Had balked, face turning white as a ghost and then setting to marble when Laena had suggested the name when she had been heavy with Rhaena. She had not brought it up when Aemon was in her belly and thankfully she hadn’t, but were other names shrouded with the madness that plagued their house.

Maegor was undoubtedly mad. His brother was a weakling he would’ve never been long for the world even if he had succumbed to the weight of the crown. Then there was Viserys with all his ailments. His mother Princess Alyssa had died trying to birth another boy for her great uncle. That boy had not even made it to his first name day before he joined his mother.

Rhaenyra’s grandmother had been a halfwit or as good as one. In all regards she should not have been married off her constitution too delicate for it and the business that would follow. Her daughter fared no better. The late queen consort had lost all her babes save her late cousin.

Her grandmother, a hardy Baratheon lady, had only been able to have her mother. She had tried to give her, but her womb never quickened once her mother had left from it. Her mother did not suffer as she had, but Laena could recall once when she had been little and her father. There had been no babes save her cousins that graced Hide Tide after that.

All her babes were tiny things. Even Baela, who had been her most robust babe, was such a little thing. Daemon had even confessed to her when she was still in that he was afraid he might break her if he held her for too long. Then there was the difficulty of birthing those babes. Of Aemon. How that had nearly broken her.

Mayhaps they would be happier without the pressures and strain of having to marry someone whom you shared a womb with. Or at least less madness, misery, and strife could come about from it.

There would be many moons, before anything could come of that happiness, babes included Gods willing, but it was rather obvious. With the way that they leaned upon the other. How it was not a pretty sight, raw and red for and lined with stitches, but Rhaena not a bit afraid of the damage done.

With their shy beams and the sweet little kiss Rhaena had placed upon his reddened cheeks flush with a blush that she, Alicent, Ser Criston, Daemion who was helping himself to a bit of cider and cheese, pretended to not see while Helaena prattled on about her six-legged friends and how they were almost as good a friend as her dragon Dreamfyre.

They would make each other happy. Very happy.

“They will be.” At last the queen was at ease. Returning her grin. Her first true smile.

The sound of footsteps coming from the hall pulled them away from pleasant musings. Standing in the chamber's archway Ser Otto Hightower had arrived at last with Aegon and the new Lord of Harrenhal.

The latter looked more startled to see her than she did him. The my lady and bow he gave her was stiff as a wooden plank, and the smile did not touch his eyes. Downcast doleful, unimpressed by what they gazed at. They reminded her of some of the hounds her uncle had liked to keep for hunts. They were famed for their dullness, but they lacked conviction in their ability to completely conceal his emotions.

She could imagine that he would have begun to grind his teeth if he thought she would not take notice of it, but she would not let his dour face ruin her mood. He could look sour all he liked, she was not his enemy, and in a handful of years time, they would be family. He would learn to live with it. Laena supposed she should be grateful because his presence was benign in comparison to another pair of eyes she felt upon her. She met that stare and regretted it the instant she had.

One would think he would have shifted his gaze to the wall or when he had been caught as he had strike up a conversation to shift away from his gaffe, but Ser—Lord, she had to remind herself that he was a lord now, Lord Larys Strong did not behave as a man who had been caught doing something he knew social propriety would dictate he beg pardon for. He kept on staring as if nothing was amiss.

Laena would not have paid the man any mind, never mind that it was not his place to be here during this private matter. Would not even have minded if he had feigned ignorance as if he had not been focusing upon her, but that stare. It was unnerving. His person was unnerving.

It was not his affliction that unnerved. On the contrary, his foot, the limp, and his hunched gait from said affliction was the least odd thing about him, but pity for him was far from her mind when she met his stare.

He wore neither a smile nor a frown, the expression was nearly innocuous. It should stir no emotions. One should not think, but there was something wrong in it. Something that made her blood turn to ice the more she kept up their contest of stares. That every expression held. Like it knew more than whatever neutrality it tried to claim.

Laena would have thought she had given into paranoia, she was more prone to that these days or she was far more observant than before. However Daemion had begun to eye the man with much suspicion between sneaking morsels of food and avoiding the pet which Helaena was trying to thrust upon him.

No, her eyes did not deceive her.

If there were any vipers, any snakes among them anywhere within this room it was he.

Trying to mask the shudder that crawled up her spine and wanting to escape those pale eyes which followed her, Laena turned to Aegon.

The boy looked as if his spirits had returned to him from the day last. Eyes no longer reddened by whatever he had consumed. The alcohol was gone from his body. They were a nice color. Not the rich brown of his mothers, but darker than his fathers pallid shade that showed the sickness within. Livelier still than his grandsire's dull shade, the man she had decided was all clouds of gray.

His were more like his younger brothers. Clear and calm like the sky on a bright morn.

He did look tired. Dark circles and shadows lined his face, but true to Alicent’s word he was fully conscious of his surroundings. Sobriety was a much more appropriate look for a boy his age.

“Baela sends her regards nephew.” She would look at her as mad as Ser Otto looked at his daughter right now if she were here beside her, but she was thankfully tucked safely away in her chambers with her mother and Aemon.

The boy nodded his head aimlessly. Up and down like an empty bottle floating on the sea's surface. His eyes darted from where his mother stood behind her. Discretion was something he seemed to share with her girl if Laena had to guess or bet a crown upon his query. “Is the child—lady Baela,” catching himself, his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat when he gazed over at the spot she had last seen Ser Criston residing. “My cousin, is she well?”

“Quite well, rest assured.” He nodded again. That cork-like nod as he walked over to where the rest of the children resided. They were getting on sowell.

They chattered away for sometime, Laena made it a point to remain as far away from Lord Larys as possible as did Alicent who stuck close to her side while avoiding the eyes of the viper.

A band of refreshments were sent for while the maids packed, but they began to quiet as the time neared for the king's party to take their leave of them.

It was then Laena decided that they would walk with them to the docks and the rocky outcrops where the dragons called home. A proper send off was owed and more time beget.

Rhaena had seemed reluctant to part from Aemond and he her. Better to give the girl as much time with him as she could Daemon would not be there and her father was often long winded even if he planned on seeing that his brother and the Hightowers had quit their sojourn at Hide Tide.

She had been wrong. Her father was nowhere to be found, but the formidable Sea Snake had not held up the man as she had hoped.

Her husband was waiting for them there by the sea with Baela hand in hand. Rhaenyra was with them, she could not say she was surprised by this, but she did not seem to match each other. Looking the one out of this trio of Targaryens though no less enthused.

A smile was splayed across his pale face. One that Rhaenyra mirrored, however hers, seemed to be more of the genuine variety than Daemon’s.

Petting the top of Baela’s silverhead before moving on to stroke her face. One could almost call it motherly if they did not look upon the brown face on the receiving end of this mothering.

The girl looked to be on the verge of saying something less than pleasant, glaring at her elder cousin, but whatever she planned on saying died in her throat when those dark eyes livened at the sight of her mother and sister.

That smile did not get warmer on her fathers face. Up close one could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was courteous enough though she was sure that show was for his brother. The spirit of camaraderie and goodwill was in full swing for now as he had reminded them, but Daemon would not be the Daemon the man she loved if he did not behave with some modicum of rebellion.

He pulled her into him as soon as she was within each. Like a grubby child who could not wait to get his hands upon his favorite toy. It was entirely possessive, but Laena would have preferred if he had left it there and been content by her presence alone.

“Your mother was kind enough to stay with Bess and Aemon.” He whispered into the shell of her. His breath fanned her flushed skin. Almost as if he was to kiss the sensitive flesh as he had done so a thousand times before.

It was Intimate even now with his restrained ire, but anger was another form of passion. Especially when it came to him. The man was passion itself in all its forms.

Laena was only thankful his voice didn’t carry over their heads. She would have guessed it had, but no one's expression had changed by his display. She did not have much time to be annoyed by his chastisement or feign innocence for they were all quickly drawn to the frail man who they called sire, brother, and husband.

“I expect you in the capital for Jacaerys and Aemond’s name day.” The rumblings of dissent were heard echoing around the dock, but they were stamped out by a flourish of the man’s cursed cane which he wielded like any other scepter.

For a moment she wished she could chuck it in the sea and watch. Would he command them to fetch it for him with that same voice he commanded them last night? Condemning her for it he would probably command that she go into its freezing depths to retrieve his stick.

No, he would not be so cruel, or rather that would not be his chosen method of punishment for her. No, he would simply order her presence by his side at this farce of a feast that he planned on forcing upon them all and make her promise that, Gods willing, if she birthed another babe of the weaker sex to betroth her to one of his grandsons.

“I expect all of you there. We will celebrate both together.” All pretenses of speaking to the crowd were extinguished. The king tried to give his brother a stern eye, but it soon turned into an exasperated sigh when he waved Daemon away and motioned to his guard for support where his stick failed.

“Safe travels mother,” The king, and most of his retinue were out of earshot though Laena doubted the former of the group of men would see the jeer in her tone or care much of it. She would receive no more of a scolding for it than she did last night.

Her words seemed to have struck a chord with Alicent. Striking the woman through and rendering her speechless. Frozen, trapped in a world where ice was growing around her until Aemond broke the spell.

“I shall write to you cousin.” The boy had called out as he had finally parted from Rhaena’s side inbound for his dragon.

“And I you.” If those green eyes could kill. Aemond would have been dead before Seasmoke took to the sky.

“Do not expect to write to you, cousin.” Civility shredded when his mother had taken her leave of them with a renewed vigor was well out of reach to scold him. Boarding the boat with Ser Criston and the snake slithering behind them as much as he could, but his grandfather was not. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck as he hauled him onto their ship. Hissing at him to mind his manners as his dragon flew without him.

Rhaenyra was the one who had broken the silence when ships and dragons were well within land and sea. She had somehow resumed her petting.

“Uncle—”

“Go home back to Dragonstone Rhaenyra,” he smiled. It reached his eyes this time as the corners crinkled with unrestrained amusement. Green gaze shifted from Baela then back to Sunfyre overhead as he grew smaller in the distance. “While it is still yours.”

Mayhaps Laena should have felt bad that her cousin was practically. However, she felt nothing but pure unadulterated triumph. A sweetness she could get used to.

She did not dare hide it. She might have looked like a mad woman as she grinned and grinned at the crestfallen look which boiled over to absolute loathing when Rhaenyra finally caught onto that grin, but she did not care. Not one bit.

Not until Daemon had turned to glare at her was she brought back to her own predicament and the fire-breathing dragon before her.

One could hear one of the pins in her hair drop if she reached for it and pulled it while he yanked her from the docks without a single word passing from his lips. It went without saying that one could hear them after the little yelped at being dragged around as such.

The air stiff with his ire. The journey back up to their chambers was quiet like a growing storm until they reached halfway up the spiral and ordered one of the maids they passed by to take the girls back to their own chambers for a nap.

Baela had tried to protest it but she was ruled down by the iron fist of Daemon’s glare. That look silenced her as the serving girl did as she was told.

Without the children, his stride hastened. Practically racing down the hall as the flat of his nail beds dug into her wrist, having enough sense even in the midst of his choler to drag her back by her good hand.

Laena would have kept going with him leading her like a dog, but his grip was boarding on painful and she detested being led around like a rag doll.

“You are hurting me.” He loosened it in that instant, lacking enough to lead, but he did not utter a word in apology nor did he slow his pace. It would have taken an act of the Gods for him to apologize.

That would not do. He owed her more than silence. He owed her.

“Daemon—”

“Do you know why the maester ordered you to stay within the walls of our chambers, Laena?” He did not even look at her as he said so. Pulling her into their chambers with a small tug upon her arm. She knew she was not to escape his wrath, but when the guards shut the doors behind her the illusion that she somehow might escape if had gone with that quiet thud.

“I am not a child Daemon.” She snapped. Letting her emotions get the best of her. Laena regretted it as soon as she saw that smile across his face.

“You behave as one.” She ignored that. Closing her eyes as she counted to ten. In and out with each breath till she felt that pull to scream at him leave her.

He did not truly mean what he said. Laena knew he was scared more than anything else. For her. For the children and too proud to say so.

“They like each other.” She need not say who they If she had said his name it would only send him further into the fit he was on the verge of. He was in if she were to be honest “Our daughter likes him.”

His smile grew. Cold thing it was despite the way it kissed his eyes. She ignored it. She knew he meant to rattle her, but she ignored him when he petted her like he would Baela. She hated it when he did that. Like she was some child in need of correcting some error. She would have liked his bark more than this. “She likes him husband.”

“He could not take his eyes off her at my brother's funeral.” He had seen that. How his eyes had darted between the dragons flying overhead and the girl at her mother's side. He had wanted both.

Daemon's tongue could speak falsehoods all he liked, but his eyes could not lie. The eyes could never lie. Not to her and not to himself.

“They are children Laena.” Not a lie, but yet still another excuse.

“They will not remain children forever.”

“Precisely.”

“He is not a bad boy,” she tried once more, feeling the words catch in her throat in a strain. “He is your brother's son.” As if he needed the reminder. As if it would even

“He is a mongrel.” It was not shocking, she knew how zealous her husband was about tradition. About their heritage, keeping their blood pure, making sure their girls had appropriate matches, he reminded her incessantly of it over the years.

She was not immune to it.

Laena may not have cared if their girls married as she had, but she did not want them to just marry anyone. She knew how he felt though she did wince at the low growl he let out when he spoke about the boy in such a matter.

“He and his brother, they are all mongrels.” She did not know the pair well, any of them well for that matter, but she knew that they did not deserve that outburst. Not even a boy as wild as Aegon.

“They are your nephews Daemon. Your blood. Targaryen—”

“Half.” He snarled. The words spit out as if they were poison. The thought of it, of them an offense to him

Laena reached out a hand to stroke down his face. It seemed to soothe him somewhat when the back of her knuckles dragged against the vein that ticked ticked ticked away in his jaw.

She could take some comfort that he did not brush her off no matter how his eyes blazed and fire spat from his tongue.

“As am I in case you have forgotten.” She drew circles into the hollows of his cheeks as she felt a sigh breath out onto her fingertips.

It was a poor argument. Even she knew that as soon as it had left from her throat.

Born into house Velaryon she may be, but she was Valyrian. Indisputably so.

Her mother was Targaryen. Her mother's mother was a Baratheon and her mother was a Velaryon. The grandmother they shared. All the ancestors that they shared. Targaryen, Velaryon, Baratheons, it was all the same. It all came back around and looped over and over. She was a Valyrian root and branch. She was the unbroken blood of old Valyria. To Daemon that meant everything and no matter how old and high the Hightowers were, they were not Valyrian.

He would not hear it and so she would have to try again and again until he saw more than blood.

“Aegon will be king and Rhaena does like Aemond Daemon and he likes her.” He gave out an ungallant snort, muttering to himself. Rolling his head underneath her palms in annoyance. "I am not saying it is love but they care for one another.” A childish fancy yes, but childish fancies can become something. Something more. “You can see that, your own brother can see that Alicent can see that.”

What did it matter? They were children and she was not a fool, but love was rarely a thing that was. Love could grow. He could not argue with that.

Daemon had not loved her when they were wed. He could say what he liked to her. That they had liked one another as soon as their worlds collided at her brother's wedding all those years ago, but they barely knew one another.

The man was led almost solely by lusts and a want for a Valyrian bride then. Still, she liked to think that in those early days, he had been especially fond of her when she had given him Baela even if she was not the son he had longed for or she herself was not exactly what he had wanted then.

Even at their worst, he had cared for her. Made sure she was safe and comfortable and that she and the children were well looked after.

Even if had been distant, lost within the demons which swarmed his mind he never had abandoned her, but had he loved her?

She could not say that but she could say he loved her now. However they had begun, he could not live without her without losing himself.

Their love grew. Love was a thing that grew. How could he argue with that, but a man’s hubris was not so easily a yielding thing, love be damned.

“Alicent does not care-” She would not let him finish that train of thought. Bringing her hands up to cup his face. Allowing her thumb to graze his stumble-coated cheeks, coaxing him to relax as he would her if he had any sense and was not blinded by his pride.

“Alicent cares for her children.” She was a mother. Laena knew mothers. She knew better than Daemon. “She would do anything for them.” It is why she had been desperate enough to seek out her mother. Why she was so willing to betroth her sons to their girls.

She was not naive. Sure they were lovely girls, but the advantages they brought could not be overlooked. Dragons and battle-tested riders. Driftmark its wealth and the Velaryon fleet.

Even Daemon had got her dragonstone in the course of a few minutes all without having to raise a single sword. Viserys may be a man prone to prioritizing his eldest, but he would hardly go back upon his word once given it and he would not deny Daemon or something so miserly after all this time. What was the betrothal of his sons he had overlooked to his younger brother's daughters that would inherit no title or lands now with a younger brother to inherit to him?

Oblivious fool as he was, by the time he realized its value, their value, he would be gone from this mortal realm and Aegon would be placed upon his throne.

“She wants them to be safe.” He huffed, it reminded her of a bull stalking his target, but he did not charge. Glaring at her, but no word in contradiction passed from lips drawn into a thin line.

Safety. The girls provided that. Safe against Rhaenyra and her need to consume everything in her path while her sire let her go on as she pleased. Safe against Daemon and his bloodlust and puerile grievances from a lifetime spent in said man’s shadow. The man before her could not be a threat if their daughter was married to the crown.

The man before her scoffed once more, but she could see that flicker of light. A last line upon his softened sometime as he gazed down at her. “She wants to protect her children. She will do anything she can for that.” She should not even have had to say so, but the man was so blinded by hatred for his own blood because of the woman who had borne them. How could he hate them when they had the same? The same blood their children shared.

“Do you not think she can not see your own desperation?” It was not cruel as only a few seconds, the venom was all but gone, but there was still that doubt. Still, that simmering magnum that fueled him with so much rage deep within his core and separated him from her was there. Just below the surface under the cold, but there nonetheless.

“I wish for your happiness Daemon. It is the very air that I breathe. The air which I survive off of. I live for you. Your happiness and the children’s.” That stopped him as good as if she slapped him, but she couldn’t have been kinder. Sweeter. Full of honey. He liked when she was sweet and she liked being sweet to him, but she needed him to understand her and not behave as if he was a child having his toy taken away.

“If that is my desperation and Alicent should see such then so be it, but do not pretend as if everything I do is without thought to you and our children.” She held him fast in her grip. His thumb had begun to draw circles into her wrists, but she had not felt that gentle touch trying to pull her into him to anchor her.

An urgency came about her that made her do so as if he might slip away like grains of sand between her hands. Gone to the storm that always seemed to surround her.

“Your daughter will be queen. Your grandson King. The uncontested heir to the Iron Throne.” Not the son of a bastard. The legitimate son of the rightful king. The blood of old Valyria reflected through and through. Unquestionable. Unimpeachable. “Alicent is a means to an end if she wishes to be blinded by her perception let her. Her desperation is not our own.”

“Lanea–” She would hear no more of it.

“I do this for your legacy Daemon. Your—”

“Our legacy.” His hands now cupped her face as he met her urgency with his own. The sand stopped. It turned into something solid. Something that could not easily be blown away with the change of the wind.

He kissed the tremble from her palms. Her cheeks which she had not known were tear-stained. Her temple lined by nerves.

Anything within reach. anything to bring her back to him. “Ours Laena.” He whispered onto her brow hands now caressing her back as he swayed her to and fro. She did not mind it. It was better than an I am sorry sweet girl. Sweeter.

She had forgotten he could be sweet too. Kind to her.

Ours. Not his or hers. There’s. It was better than maybe. She could work with that. She could do with that.

Their daughter would be queen, her son, their grandson, would sit on the Iron Throne, and Rhaena would have Aemond and everything she wanted. Laena would see to that. They would see to that.

“Any other requests you should wish to make of me dearest wife.” His eyes had gotten that mischievous glint in them again as he pulled ever slightly to gaze down at her. Playful. Riant and something more yet.

She had just one request.

One which he had never acquiesced before, but he was trying. Trying for her. For the children. For them. Laena bit her lip. Parting them as she felt air fill her lungs. Rush through her whole body with its exuberance.

Surely he would abide by this simple request for she knew not what he would do if he did not, but something in that smile, in the light of those green eyes which she knew better than her own the ones which their son had inherited told her she would not have to know. She would never have to know.

“I do not wish you to leave with my father.” He grinned. Beamed even. Rare and entirely for her that the light grew kissing the corners of his eyes with lines of life of hope.

“I was not planning to.”

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