Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was like this overwhelming presence swarmed her. 

Small glimpses of the past, the present, the future. 

There was no barrier anymore. 

Laena certainly wasn’t dead. At least not in any way that mattered before. 

It was sudden almost. The realization. The way she felt the change, like she was no longer floating.

Even her eyes felt weighted, something she nearly forgot the feeling of, what it felt to be real.

Blinking open her eyes—there he was. Daemon. A man who held so much of her love, and yet so much of her disdain. 

Perhaps she should have expected to see him, but she didn’t. 

If she wanted to reach out and touch him and have him feel it, she knew that she could now. It didn't feel natural. 

She had almost become used to the constant subjugation of her being. 

Her lack of autonomy. A glorified spectator.

All of the death and destruction.

The Dance of the Dragons.

She had witnessed how her poor daughters were left broken and battered by the end of the war. They had lost everyone.

Even looking into violet eyes that weren't theirs, Laena swore to them and herself that she would not leave them again. She knew she would make it so, no matter what it took. They were all that ever truly mattered. 

Not even Daemon could compare. Not then or now. 

He had once been a simple choice for her. She found him charming, but imagined the amount of time they spent together would be used for making heirs. 

She was left surprised when they married. He wished to fly on their dragons together and travel the world. He did not even seem disappointed when she birthed him two girls instead of two boys.

Laena was content enough, at least that's what she wanted to believe. 

When she found out she was pregnant with their third child, that ideal began to deteriorate further. 

The pregnancy was harder on her than Baela and Rhaena’s was, which was the first reason she wished to give birth on Driftmark with her mother by her side. 

She asked Daemon to return to Westeros over a dozen times, and she was denied at every turn while he stuffed his head in books about the history of dragonlords or thought about his family that lived so far away from them. A curse he put upon himself.

Laena wanted her daughters to know more about life than Pentos.

She had missed her home. 

She wanted to feel safe.

But when her labors began, she knew something was wrong. The pain was worse than anything she had ever experienced. It lasted well-over into the night and it never lessened. 

Her son refused to come, and the healers and midwives by her side cared not for her well-being, nor her opinion, but the opinion of her husband. 

She refused to die under anyone else’s circumstances. 

It was why it was so easy for her to slip out once Daemon put their daughters back to bed.

And the look in Vhagar’s eyes when she pleaded with her to end her sufferings, it nearly broke Laena’s heart, but she had to do it. Vhagar knew that too.

Laena wished she could have said a proper goodbye.

“I cannot say that I am not fond of this reception.” His voice, it was almost different hearing it again—outside the realm of spectism. 

As for his spoken words; she wished she could say the same. 

He was well aware of her silence, taking in account the way his eyes crinkled, studying her. It made her feel uneasy. He tended to do that. “You remember,” he said. There was no question. 

Dying?  She wanted to ask.

I remember how hot my face felt when Vhagar opened her maw. Even with my eyes closed, it was so bright.

I remember the pain, but I never screamed. It was over as soon as it began.

I remember…

“I did tell you I wanted to die a dragonrider’s death, did I not?” It was a lie, a blatant lie.

Her mother died a dragon rider’s death, but she… she died disoriented and afraid. It wasn’t what she actually wanted.

“You did,” he softly confirmed, his face almost forlorn in its earnesty.

It was odd to her. He was odd to her. 

Daemon seemed different. 

Like some of his fire went out.

Well, perhaps it was too soon to tell.

“What do you remember?” She asked. “What happened after Vhagar-?“ she paused abruptly—a sudden lump appeared in her throat. Admitting what she commanded Vhagar to do was much harder than she thought it would've been. 

Had her voice always sounded so raw? 

“Plenty,” Daemon glazed over her fragility, something she was glad for. “Baela and Rhaena were bereft, but it wasn’t until they saw the remnants of your body,” his eyes flickered to the side, “that they started to believe it.” 

That crushed her. They were left broken because of something she did.

And Daemon, he could not look her in the eye. The idea of her charred remains filled him with distaste? Sorrow? Annoyance?

It was difficult for her to know. It had been a long time since she was put in this position. 

Certainly it would take time for her to adjust. That's all it was. In time, she would feel normal... surely. 

“And what else?”

Daemon only glanced at her, then looked away.

Not this again, Daemon, she thought. That wasn't the type of normalcy she wanted. Look at me! Say something. 

Laena could not fault him for keeping his silence if the horrors that happened were too much for him to reminisce, but if he simply kept quiet for her benefit, or lack thereof, she would rather spend her time in another’s company. 

She would rather do that regardless.

Her body twisted out from under the warmth of the sheets, facing her back towards him. Her bare feet made contact with the cool stone floor of Prince Reggio’s manse.

A hand clasped around her wrist before she began to stand up.

“Laena,” he enounced.

The way he said her name was eerily similar to the night they spent speaking of brothers and mothers. Nieces and cousins.  

‘Perhaps, I too, am not the wife you would’ve wished for yourself.’

‘Laena.’

He never denied her words, but Daemon was never one to quell her worries. 

It was always left to her to mend her wounds. And his. 

“What?” She asked softly, her chin grazed over her shoulder as she turned to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked at her with something akin to remorse.

An unusual expression for him. Yet it was perhaps all too familiar. 

“After you passed…” he began, “life moved slower.”

She nearly scoffed, but managed to hold the compulsion back.

“It took our daughters a long time to accept that you were never coming back.” 

Laena winced. Another blow dealt to her heart.

“But it was not all bad, surely?” She questioned, no longer meeting his eye.

He simply stared at her. 

“I’m sure there were moments you and our daughters found joy, even after my passing. At least I would hope for that.”

And that was true for her. It was not like she wished for them to only know misery after she died.

Certainly not her children. 

If all she could grant for Baela and Rhaena was their happiness, then she would gladly do so.

Daemon observed her for a moment. “What is it you want to know exactly, Laena?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes as serious as ever. 

Ah, that was the Daemon she remembered. Always so full of suspicion and scrutiny. 

She couldn’t help the wry smile that tugged on her lips. She already knew much, but she just wanted him to say it. She needed to hear him say it.

“I am no fool to believe that you stayed a widow for the rest of your days, Daemon.”

Another refusal to meet her eyes. “Aye. What about it?”

Laena furrowed her brows. “Surely you found another wife, perhaps even had more children. A son.” 

Or two, Laena’s mind supplied.

Aegon. Viserys… Visenya. 

Daemon met her gaze once more, though surprise replaced his solemnity. 

He suddenly blinked. “I did…” Laena raised her eyebrows, silently urging him to continue. “I had two—three more children,” he corrected. “One of them was, well… the babe didn’t make it.” 

She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. Too easy. She released him. “I am sorry, Daemon.” She meant that. He offered her a nod in acknowledgement. “And what of your wife?” When he opted to keep his mouth closed, she continued her pestering. She would not accept his silence. “Rhaenyra, I presume.” 

She knew. Even if she didn't directly see it, she still would have known. 

They stared at each other for what felt like forever. 

Laena did not waver.

“I’m sure you found a way around her marriage to Laenor,” she said.

His eyes turned cold. “Do you believe I would kill your brother?”

I’m sure you would kill anyone if there was something in it for you, Laena thought to herself.  “Of course not… you loved him well,” she said out loud, opting for a more suppressed rendition of her thoughts. Daemon narrowed his eyes at her, trying to piece together where he had heard that before. At least this was more amusing, she mused, being able to run circles around him. It was a nice change from his control over her. “I simply said that you must have found a way around their marriage. Perhaps you sent Laenor away,” she suggested knowingly. 

Faked his death, she wished to add, but held her tongue. It would not bode well for her to admit what she knew in whole.

Daemon seemed to go through a flutter of emotions.  

Perhaps it was cruel how much it amused her, but she could not help it. Daemon kept her from her family, no matter how much she pleaded that they return to Driftmark, nor how much she wanted to have her mother’s presence through the last pregnancy she would ever have. 

He always denied her.

Their marriage was not born out of love, but love did grow between them. The first seven years were near bliss from what she could remember, but then he changed. He became bitter and isolated. 

Laena found herself to become cautious in return. Her normal fire became burned out.

She would not let that happen a second time.

She shall have the control now.

“I suppose I should not be surprised,” he finally sighed. “You always had your wits.” 

His compliment meant little to her. “Thank you, husband,” she mused drily.

Daemon settled further into a sitting position. “Have I done something?”

She chuckled, slipping farther from him to stand up. “No, Daemon.” 

“Then what?” He asked, scrutiny high in his voice. “There is clearly something bothering you.”

“As if you care,” Laena mouthed to herself. It was childish, she knew it was so, but she could feel herself losing her patience. 

She sat down at the bedside table and removed the silk cloth that wrapped around her hair.

“Laena,” he urged, exasperated.

“What?” She asked in a clipped tone, harsher than his. She might admit she could be just as quick to anger as he was. He brought it out in her.

She refused to look back at him, continuing to study herself in the mirror.

She could certainly feel his gaze burn into the back of her head. 

“Should we truly spend this time fighting?.. It has been a long time since I last saw your face.”

His voice was uncharacteristically soft. It reminded her of the early days, when he would try. 

He could always charm, if nothing else. 

“No,” she agreed. Laena turned her body in his direction. “You’re right, it is no good to spend this time fighting… I shall go see Baela and Rhaena.”

Before Daemon could say another word, she stood and dashed out of the room.

She left him behind, leaving him momentarily baffled before he remembered himself enough to be able to shout something after her. She was sure that it was nothing of importance. 

⇄

Laena slowly crept down the hall.

It was a small mercy the space was empty since she didn’t think she could suffer through any unneeded pleasantries.

All she wanted was to hold her daughters in her arms.

Watching them grow from above without being able to touch them was a personal hell for her.

She wanted to protect them and love them, as she used to. 

The room that held Baela and Rhaena was close to her and Daemon’s own quarters. She only needed to take a few steps before she reached the closed door.

She paused before she pushed it open.

What if her daughters remembered too? Would they blame her for leaving them? Would they cry at the sight of her? Would they even remember her?

Of course they would, she scolded herself. They were eight and ten years of age when she died, surely they would remember her face.

But that thought didn’t stop her worry from tugging at her chest. 

Laena slowly pushed the door open and peaked her head inside. One of the small twin beds was unoccupied whilst the other held two little bodies. 

Laena smiled at the sight. The two sisters were curled up together.

They didn't always share a bed, nor a room, but it was always sweet when they did. 

In the end, Laena was at least glad that her daughters still had each other.

Everything would be alright once she held them; she knew it.  

She quietly approached the bed and sat on the edge. Her sweet girls looked so peaceful as they slept. A part of her wanted to wake them, wrap them up in her arms, and never let them go, while the other just wanted to watch them sleep to their heart’s content.

Laena wasn’t sure which part of her would eventually win out.

“Muña?”

She looked to find Rhaena’s eyes open and staring up at her. 

It was jarring, but nothing else could have made her feel so alive. “Did I wake you, sweet girl?” 

Rhaena shrugged. “I don't think so… But I am hungry.”

Laena’s slight frown melted into a soft smile. “Well, how does going into the city to find something to your taste sound?” Rhaena’s eyes widened in excitement. “Mayhaps even a ride on Vhagar?” 

“Oh, yes!” Her daughter exclaimed, jolting up. “Mother, please. I would love that!”

Laena reached out. “Careful, dearest. You’ll wake Baela.” She was quite surprised Rhaena didn't already wake up her sister, given how roughly she jostled her.

Laena looked down at Baela and continued to smile softly, seeing her daughter’s eyes still closed.

It was a shame she missed so many moments like this. 

“But I want Baela to come with us,” Rhaena said, though her voice was lower, heeding her mother’s advice. 

“Baela enjoys her sleep. What if she becomes cross with you for waking her?” Laena rose a teasing brow.

Rhaena blushed. “Baela would never turn down the opportunity to ride Vhagar.” 

She hummed, that was true enough. Moondancer was not big enough for her eldest daughter to ride, nor would she be for many years. 

And both of her daughters loved Vhagar.

“Then you shall face her wrath when you wake her,” Laena teased, leaning forward with a grin. Rhaena cutely scrunched her nose in response. “I will send for our ladies to prepare us for the day.”

“Let me see the mood Vhagar is in this morning,” Laena said, smoothing down Baela and Rhaena’s locks. 

She left the girls near the front of the manse and traveled down the expanse of the sandy beach where Vhagar nested. Her eyes traveled up the expanse of her dragon's body, always amazed at the size of her. Laena was filled with an awful sense of deja vu when Vhagar turned her massive head in her direction. 

Laena detected a hint of curiosity in the she-dragon’s greenish-yellow eyes. 

She wondered if Vhagar remembered the past. Or perhaps it was only she and Daemon that were cursed with that knowledge.

“Vhagar!” Laena called. “Lykirī!”

A warm puff of air hit her. It nearly pushed Laena backwards.

Her beloved dragon seemed to be cross with her. 

She held out her hand. “Forgive me, Vhagar. Forgive me.”

Vhagar peered down at her, lowering her head to get closer to her rider. After a moment of hovering, she pressed her massive snout against Laena’s palm.

Laena could have wept from relief, instead, she bowed her head and let out a sharp gasp.

Vhagar crooned.

Laena looked back up and held her sight in one of Vhagar’s eyes. “You remember, do you not?” Vhagar blinked in answer. “...Perhaps I am just going mad. I would not be surprised after what I have seen… I saw you die, Vhagar. I saw Westeros bathed in flames.”

A low hum reached her ears. A softer puff of air hit her face.

Laena furrowed her brows in sympathy. 

“If I had known what would happen, I never would have…” she shook her head, her palm rubbing against Vhagar’s scales, “I never would have left. I never would have forced you to free me, my hāedar.”

Vhagar was not a weapon for destruction, not to Laena.

Vhagar was her first love. Her beautiful dragon.

Perhaps if Laena had lived, she could have spared Vhagar the pain Aemond caused her. Perhaps she could have made a difference.

She didn’t know. She would never know.

“Forgive me, Vhagar,” she whispered. 

Vhagar let out a keen trill. 

Laena hoped it meant she was forgiven.

She scratched the massive scales beneath her hand. “Later today I would like to take my daughters and I on a short ride if it pleases you,” Laena whispered. “Soon I would like to see my mother. It has been a long time since either of us have been to driftmark, has it not?”

Granted, Vhagar was on driftmark much more recently than Laena.

And if her mother’s memory was intact, then Laena worried how she would react to seeing Vhagar. 

Laena’s dragon was the unfortunate reason for Rhaenys’ death after all.

“Mother!”

Laena slightly turned in the direction of her daughter’s voice.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Rhaena,” she called back.

Vhagar let out a low hum.

“I shall come back. I promise,” Laena said, reassuring her dragon. 

⇄

Laena held the hands of Baela and Rhaena in each of hers as they traveled the city of Pentos.

Her children were as curious as her every time they greeted the bazaars.

She could admit the city was beautiful.

It may not have been full of color, but the buildings were large and carefully sculpted. It reminded her a bit of Driftmark.

Perhaps anything would remind her of Driftmark. She truly missed it.

“Look at this, mother!” Rhaena called.

Laena turned her head in the direction of her youngest daughter’s voice. Rhaena held a beautiful turquoise necklace. The jewels were opaque, but shaped into a teardrop; which looked to have gold tracing the edges

She enjoyed jewelry, but more so because she had to.

As the daughter of the richest man in the realm, she was often flooded in jewelry.

She and her mother could want for nothing in that capacity.

“It’s beautiful, sweetling, but it’s a bit big for you. We may need to have it altered.”

Rhaena only shrugged and laid it back down on the cart. “That’s okay, I just thought it was pretty.”

Laena softly chuckled. She watched as Rhaena grabbed her sister’s hand and ran to another wooden booth. Laena smiled at the woman in front of her before she joined her daughters. They were talking animatedly over what looked like a stuffed monkey.

Baela’s fascination no doubt.

Being able to remember the events that occurred after her demise, more importantly remembering the lives of her children, were precious to her. 

Even though she was unable to physically be with her daughters, she watched over them. Baela and Rhaena were the most beautiful view she could have ever asked for.

She was able to learn even more about them.

“Muña, I want this monkey. Kepa promised I could get a real one some day.” 

Laena remembered. 

Baela ended up getting her wish, but only after she lost so many dear to her.

“You will, sweet girl. Perhaps that will happen sooner than later.” She smoothed back Baela’s locks. 

Rhaena opted to curl herself into her mother’s side. 

“Thank you, mother,” Baela said, mirroring her sister’s action “...Can we take a ride on Vhagar now?”

Laena looked down at her with a small yet mischievous smile on her face. “I think that can be arranged. We’ll find some sweets on our way out, hm?”

Rhaena giggled while Baela urged Laena to move forward.

The three of them stopped by another post, and Laena purchased her daughters a treat, each were handed baggies of black licorice. 

The girls snacked alongside their mother as they traveled towards Vhagar’s nest.

The beach near Reggio’s manse was long and easy to spot once they left the presence of the bazaars. 

Vhagar was nearly as expansive; Laena swore she could see Vhagar’s head popping over the top of the building. She doubted she would ever tire of the excitement she felt whenever she looked upon her dragon. 

If the warm feeling she got inside her chest whenever Vhagar spotted her was in any way the same, she’d say Vhagar was always happy to see her too.

Baela and Rhaena stayed behind her as they approached. 

“Hello, my queen,” Laena cooed. Her beloved dragon crooned in answer. She laid her hand against her green scales and softly scratched the area before placing a kiss upon the lower part of her maw. “Come, girls,” Laena held out a hand behind herself, beckoning Baela and Rhaena to approach.

It was their ritual whenever the three of them flew together.

Baela, always the more eager of the two sisters, placed her hand in the same place her mother’s once was. “Hello, Vhagar,” she greeted slowly in High Valyrian. 

A gentle puff of hot air hit her in the face, making her giggle.

“You too, Rhaena,” Laena smiled. “Come.”

Her youngest took her hand and took a more cautious route. Her hand only grazed along Vhagar’s scales, but her Valyrian was more concise than her sister’s.

Laena held pride for both of them, nonetheless.

She was certain Vhagar adored them as well. She’d often find her daughters being watched by the depicted Queen of Dragons whenever they played together on whatever sandy beach they explored.

It was nice to know the girls were in good hands, even if Laena was unable to properly see them herself. 

Laena glided her hand around the side of Vhagar’s scales as she walked to the roped ladder hanging from the saddle.

Over the years she had gotten quicker at climbing the ropes, it was not the only way she knew how, but her daughters were not the same.

They often held onto her as she climbed. She doubted it would be any different now.

“Muña, muña!” Baela raced towards her, a wide smile stretching her face. “Let Vhagar lift me, please!”

Immediately, Laena gave her an amused look. When Vhagar knelt as far down to the ground as she could, she would often pick Laena up with the better part of her wing and lift her towards the saddle. It was quicker than climbing the roped ladder, but Laena never minded the climb, not even if her daughters were clinging onto her back. 

“I don’t know, Baela. Vhagar is an old lady,” she patted Vhagar’s side affectionately. “It’s good to be gentle with her.”

As Vhagar grew older and more parts of her wings started to decay, Laena preferred climbing the rope. 

Perhaps Vhagar didn’t mind lifting her up, she always did so without any needed request.

“I’m always gentle!” Baela crowed, her brows furrowing.

Laena couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. She had missed this - speaking with her daughters, jesting with them. It healed her. 

Laena hummed, considering. “I know you are. I have no doubt you would treat Vhagar with nothing but gentleness.” She looked over at her dragon, a large eye already peering over at her. “What do you say, Vhagar?” Laena glided her hand over her scales.

The she-dragon let out a high-pitch trill. Baela gasped in awe of the loud noise. The crunch of Rhaena’s feet sounded against the sand as she joined them. 

Laena prided herself on their bond, she would not lie. It filled her with joy to share such a special connection with her mount. It was another thing she missed.

Vhagar leaned over, pushing Laena back as lightly as a dragon of her size could, a sign that she would allow them better access.

Laena grabbed her daughters and guided them a safe distance away so Vhagar could properly lower herself.

It was impressive how close she was able to get herself to the ground. She was the largest dragon in the world, yet she made it look so easy.

Her wing practically flattened against the sand. Laena let Baela and Rhaena climb on first before she joined them. 

Baela and Rhaena always admired the view from dragonback, as Laena did.

They were much more vocal in their astonishment, it reminded Laena of when she and Vhagar first claimed each other.

“Can I hold the ropes, muña?” Baela asked, once her mother strapped them both in the saddle. 

Laena handed her the reins in answer, and a blooming smile crept onto Baela’s face.

Vhagar slowly clambered to a standing position and lightly shook herself side to side.

“Sōvēs!” Laena commanded.

One step, two steps, and up they went.

Laena’s breath caught in the back of her throat as they propelled forward. Rhaena and Baela cheered as they gained speed, letting out little whoops! as Vhagar crooned.

She had almost forgotten how exhilarating it was to fly. How freeing it was.

She had watched the dragons die, and even the fall of the Targaryen dynasty. 

Lucerys being the start of the end.

Her mother, killed by Aemond. Jacaerys, shot down from his dragon, leaving her sweet Baela in tears. The storming of the dragonpit. Daemon, falling to his death after sliding his sword through Aemond’s eye. Joffrey, bucked from Syrax’s back. The deaths of the dragon seeds. 

And Rhaenyra, one of the last to be slain, eaten and burned by Aegon’s dragon, Sunfyre, while her son watched.

Laena was thankful her daughters survived, but they would be forever scarred, no matter how strong they were.

She would not let them suffer this time. She would not die.  

“Jās, Vhagar! Aderī!” Laena heard Baela shout, excitement in her voice. 

Vhagar swooped down, making the girls cry out, then giggle hysterically.

The memories flashed before her eyes. Nearly two hundred years worth of Kings after the dance ended.

Only for it to end with the girl who brought the dragons back to die at the hand of the man she loved.

Daenerys. A sweet girl in truth, but wronged by many.

Laena may never understand why she saw what she saw, but she knew the gods must have favored her for a reason.

Perhaps it was a cruel joke. She would not dismiss that possibility.

The gods were nothing if not cruel.

She learned that the hard way. When the babe would not come. 

The Pentoshi maester suggested she be cut open and her dear husband paused in answer.

She remembered the look on his face, how he looked so anxious. Daemon looked at her with such worry.

Laena remembered how the pain failed to lessen and how panic gripped at her heart.

Her daughters came into the room, staring at their screaming mother with fear. 

Laena remembered how Daemon ushered them away, and she could not even say goodbye. She had to go, she had to escape.

What else could she have done?

The babe would not come.

She would not be cut open. Not by a man who pushed her away and cared not for her. Not by anyone.

She loved her daughters. Baela and Rhaena, they were her world, but even they had no say against her being torn apart. 

Laena only hoped her death would not hurt them too dearly. 

How naive she was.

They needed her and she left them. She may never forgive herself for that.

Before everything went black, Laena swore she could hear Daemon shout her name, but she couldn’t have been sure.

She had died, she knew that for certain.

Imagine her surprise when she found herself staring down at the blackened contents of her bones by the time the sun started to rise.

She remembered the melancholic tune Vhagar sang.

She remembered the almost frozen, somber looks that contorted Baela and Rhaena’s faces; like they were in a nightmare.

And Daemon… his blank expression might have been what she remembered best of all.

He offered nothing. No shock. No grief. 

Laena could not read his thoughts, she never could, but they were not always hard for her to imagine.

He must have been relieved. The wife he swept away from Westeros was finally gone and he never had to suffer her company again.

Laena pitied him, thinking back. How miserable it must have been for him, blaming everyone but himself for his own unhappiness.

Even the gods knew she was better to him than he deserved.

She was done with him. His slights, his ignorance, his infidelity.

She never knew a person could be so… exhausting.

“Circle the city, Vhagar,” Laena patted against the dragon’s massive back. “We shall not touch the ground for hours!”

Rhaena leaned back against her as safely as she could, and it made Laena smile.

This was all she needed. Her perfect children and her beloved mount. 

Nothing else could compare.

Still dressed in her riding clothes, Laena climbed up the stairs of Reggio’s manse. 

It was as if she were pulled to Daemon’s solar.

Her eyes scanned the shelves of books as her hand trailed along the railing.

She came to a stop at the desk and chair that sat near the corner of the nook. 

It was all so bizarre. 

Her last memory of seeing Daemon and Baela together, speaking learnedly in High Valyrian.

There was a babe in her belly then. 

She killed him. 

She didn’t want to, but she had to.

I saw his face, but I cannot remember it. He was beautiful… Why can’t I remember his face?

Laena sat at the desk and seized a piece of parchment. She decided to write to her mother. 

Before the week ended, she would be leaving Pentos and going home to High Tide. 

Baela and Rhaena had scarcely been there before she died. She would like to remedy that. 

Laena wrote to her mother, telling her to expect their faces soon. Hopefully she would be happy to receive them.

Heavy steps made her head turn toward the steps. Daemon’s silver hair was the first thing that caught her eye. 

“Bloody hell,” she whispered. She didn’t want to see him, especially not so soon.

Her attention strayed back to her letter.

“Laena.” Her name fell from his lips, an exaggerated tone dripping from his tongue.

Always the dramatic one.

Laena merely glanced at him as he was now inches away.

Another wave of deja vu clouded her memory.

It was a mistake to have come here of all places.

Daemon hovered over her. “You’re writing to Rhaenys?” She was surprised he didn’t glue himself to her person. “Do you know if she’s even…” his train of thought trailed off, but she didn’t need to be a genius to know where it was going.

Do you know if she’s even alive?

She did not know. She could only hope.

“If we’re alive, I must hold out hope that she is too,” Laena declared. “All of this must be happening for a reason.” 

He scoffed.

It was quiet, but loud enough for Laena’s ears to catch. She glared at him in response. 

His face softened into one of curiosity. “Do you truly think that? What reason would pertain here?”

Saving the dragons, you fool. If she were to say that aloud then he would know what she knew. She’d rather he didn’t. She’d rather he go away.

“I’d imagine that you would know better than I, Daemon.”

He just stared at her, and she him.

She refused to be relinquished in any way. She would not lay down and die.

Her fingertips rolled the now dormant pen in between her fingers. “I have been given a second chance,” Laena softly expressed. “Whether you have that same belief, reason or not, doesn’t matter to me.”

Daemon smirked, but she could tell something was bothering him. “It is clear I have done something to offend you-”

“You have not,” she interrupted, not unkindly. The offenses her husband has caused against her were many, but she wished to keep him in the dark about what she knew, for now. 

“If that were true you wouldn’t have been so quick to avoid me the entire day, Laena.”

She couldn’t help the smile that started to bloom on her face. “And what a tragedy it is when you do not get what you want, right when you want it.” She met his eye. “You poor thing.” 

He did not seem to appreciate her words, given by the scowl that now graced his features.

Laena did not cower. She did not fear Daemon, not in the least. 

She was incredulous and angry. She was annoyed by his audacity. She didn’t owe him any kindness.

He had treated her with dismissals and ignorance. And yet she was still shackled to his side.

No more. She was done with being a prisoner.

“I am here, the same as you,” Daemon said. “What have I done to earn this ire?”

She sighed quietly, almost to herself. 

“You’ve done nothing today,” Laena admitted in a whisper. “My ire,” she mocked, “has nothing to do with today. It has to do with the fact that I couldn’t even die in my own home, with my mother by my side. Instead, I was here,” she waved her hand aimlessly, “in Pentos, surrounded by strangers and a husband who could barely look me in the eye most days.”

A sardonic chuckle escaped her lips before she even realized it had formed.

She was positively exhausted. 

Laena didn’t even want to look at him. 

She didn’t want to see whatever stupid face he pulled or hear the same old excuses that fell from his lips whenever she would confront him.

Being brought back to one of the worst times of her short life was punishment enough.

This time she would not let anyone take her from her daughters again. Not a husband, her father, or her mother.

Not even the poor babe who died in her belly would take her from them.

She needed Baela and Rhaena just as much as they needed her.

“Truly pointless,” Laena carried on. 

She set down her pen in exchange for the chalice of wine that sat near the edge of the table. She took a rather small sip, willing the dryness in her mouth to go away.

“Laena, I-”

“Do you know what day it is, Daemon?” she interrupted uncaringly, finally letting herself look at him. Somehow, he looked paler than she remembered. 

After her ride with Vhagar and the girls, she took a glimpse at the calendar that hung near the landing of his solar. 125 AC, it read. If she remembered the day correctly, then the day she died on the beaches of Pentos would be a year from now. “We were put here a year before. For what? Are the gods cruel enough to believe that I would let what happened to me, happen again?” 

Was her life truly so dispensable?

No. She refused to let it be so. 

“I am sorry,” Daemon said.

She saw his lips move, and they matched the words she heard, but she must have heard him wrong.

In their ten years of marriage she could barely count the amount of times he had apologized. She only needed one hand, and it certainly didn’t require all five of her fingers.

“You’re what?”  

He sighed as she practically leaned forward.

“It has been years since I've heard you say those words.” 

Perhaps they would have meant something to her before, but now, she felt nothing.

They didn’t heal her or make her feel satisfied.

When she looked at him, all she felt was anger.

She hated him to her core. It always bubbled to the surface, but she never let it explode. She didn’t want him to win.

She wanted to be better than him. She wanted to quell her anger instead of letting it spew everywhere.

Perhaps that was the Velaryon side in her, or perhaps it was her pride.

But now, as she looked at his face, she could understand how easy it would be to just let herself erupt.

Daemon must have seen it, because his eyes downturned.

She was surprised he didn’t just walk away, she had gotten so used to him doing that.

Laena could only continue to stare at him. She stared at Daemon long enough for him to meet her eyes once more. 

It did not take long for his shame to be replaced by annoyance. “What?” He asked.

She shook her head, never severing eye contact. “When I was a girl I used to be amazed by the stories my mother and father would tell me of you. I thought you were strong and brave,” a huff of a chuckle left her lips. “It was a passing admiration, admittedly.. After you rid me of Maris and asked for my hand, I had hoped that you were–in fact–a good man, despite the rumors. And perhaps you would be my protector if I couldn’t protect myself.”

Daemon held the smallest smirk on his face. He always looked so self-assured, but Laena knew better by now. He was hiding something. “I never thought Rhaenys would ever say something good about me.”

Laena smiled, a bit cockily. “Believe me, she had plenty of awful things to say of you as well.” Her words caused Daemon to let out a surprised laugh, it was eerily similar to the one he let out the day of her funeral. She scowled. “As the years passed on, you by my side, I realized you were not a good man at all. In fact, you were bitter and so self-absorbed. I mean, have you ever cared for anyone but yourself?” She asked cruelly. 

Fire might as well have spewed from her mouth as she spoke.

“Of course I do,” Daemon answered. Due to his tone, it was clear that she offended him. 

“Please!” She erupted, a largely sardonic smile on her face. “Mayhaps the king or Rhaenyra I could believe, but me? My daughters?” Laena scoffed, looking back down at the paper on the table. 

“How could you say that?” He hissed. “Of course I care!”

She balked up at him in return. “How much of a fool do you believe me to be, Daemon? Have you already forgotten how you treated me in the last years of our dreadful marriage?”

Daemon looked away, his jaw clenched. “It was not dreadful.” Another laugh flew past Laena’s lips. “I cared for you, Laena,” he lamented, but now his eyes focused on the curl of her brow. “I cared for our children. I still do.”

Laena nodded, but it was slow, and the anger etched on her features never left. “Such care you had,” she drawled, “forbidding me from returning to Driftmark. My home.” 

“Ah,” he scoffed, throwing his head to the side in annoyance. “Do not do this with me again, Laena.”

“I shall do it as many times as I please. Until I am blue in the face,” she declared. “Mayhaps home was nothing to you, but I happened to like mine. I died before I could return to it. Do you understand that?”

Daemon shook his head petulantly.

Laena did not wish to look at him any further; she’d rather feed him to her dragon. 

Her eyes strayed to her letter as Daemon continued his brooding. 

She re-read her words, over and over, wanting to get them right. 

Laena knew she and her daughters would likely be on Driftmark before the letter arrived, but she didn’t care. It was nice to do something normal. 

And she needed to get out of Pentos as soon as she could.

“...You plan to go back to Driftmark?”

Her hand stopped mid-write. If she knew he was hovering that closely, she would have done a better job at hiding the letter.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Laena looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Before the weeks end-”

“What makes you think I want to return to Westeros, Laena?”

She really would like to hit him.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it. I am taking my daughters with me to Driftmark, with or without you.” Her voice was slow and concise. 

By the end of her sentence, It felt as if a weight had been lifted directly off her shoulders.

Their eyes were locked onto one another. It was a game of who would break first.

Neither of them were willing to hold that title.

“You would take our daughters from their father?” Daemon asked, his eyes squinting in scrutiny.

A part of her wanted to antagonize him. What father?  She nearly asked. He was certainly not a very attentive one, especially after she died. 

“I let you deny me, time and time again. I didn’t want to part them from you, even if being around you made my life more miserable,” his frown deepened, “so I stayed when you said we would not return to Westeros.”

“You never stayed silent on the matter.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I should have taken Baela and Rhaena on Vhagar and left you behind to sulk on your own, yet I didn’t. It is clear to me that you have not changed at all, you’re still the same.”

“And you are still the same stubborn woman I remember as well,” he countered. 

Laena only became amused in return, leaning in. “It’s your choice, Daemon. You come with us, or stay here. There is no other option for you.”

His eyes strayed toward her letter, then back to her face. Within a split second, his features softened. “I do not wish to go back.”

Her head felt like it was spinning. “Why not?” Her voice came out softer than she intended.

He sighed. “The last thing I remember was leaping off Caraxes to stick dark sister right into that wretched boy’s eye.” Daemon searched her face. “Nothing bad happened here in Pentos. I do not want to destroy that.”

“I cannot stay here. I won’t.” There was no sympathy in her eyes, nor warmth in her voice. “Hear me when I say this, Daemon… Driftmark is my home, and it shall be that of my children.”

‘Pentos is my home, and that of my children.’

Daemon blinked, internally taken aback. 

Laena settled back into her seat. “I want to see my mother, and hug my brother again. I want more than this,” she gestured around the space. “My daughters deserve more than this. I deserve more.” Perhaps he had forgotten that.

She turned away from him, opting to scribble more words on the paper.

“Laena…”

She forced herself to ignore him. There was nothing more she could say without repeating herself. 

Daemon was never the most patient, and the only response he got was the scratching of the quill against the paper. Her silence irked him.

“Fine… If you want to act like a child, then I'll leave you to it.”

His footsteps carried as he left the same way he came.

Laena stopped writing as soon as she heard him finish climbing down the steps. 

She sent the letter off soon after.

Daemon laid in bed, staring up at the canopy.

It was odd to be back here, after everything.

Near the end of their time in Pentos, he admitted that he was not the most agreeable person, but he never would have thought of their marriage as a miserable one.

Certainly, Laena was exaggerating. 

She was always quite spirited. She never failed to speak her mind.

It could be frustrating, especially when she was speaking up against him and his wishes. 

He didn’t think she was afraid of anything. 

He missed her.

He loved her.

He didn’t think he ever truly admitted that to anyone but Laena herself. 

And without her, he forgot how simple life could be. 

Even now, he waited for her to come back into their bedchamber, putting their earlier squabble behind them as she often did if they ever fought. 

He waited for what felt like hours. 

Laena never came. 

Since the day they married, they always slept in the same bed together. Whether they were cross with each other or not, it was always put aside at the end of the day. 

If Laena traveled with their daughters without him, he slept terribly without her by his side.

He was an insomniac.

‘You do not sleep!’

‘Well how can I with you haunting my every move.’

Those piercing eyes, scrutinizing him at every turn. Nothing he did would ever be enough for her and she would make that known. All it took was one look.

She fought back. He lashed out.

She could make his blood boil. She knew him well. It was easy for her to use his weaknesses against him. 

But a part of him enjoyed the fight. Especially if it meant she was paying attention to him.

He knew that Laena didn't deserve his irate dispositions, he was conscious of that fact, but he was never one to be docile. 

It wasn’t his fault that she knew how to piss him off either. 

He really did hate to disappoint her, yet he often found himself doing so. Not even death could stop that it seemed. 

Daemon sighed as sleep failed to come.

He opted to get out of bed and sit by the windowsill, watching the sky change in color. A monotonous activity, but not one he was unfamiliar with. 

When the sun started to creep up, he knew his day would begin once more.

A light knock at the door made him frown. If it was Laena, she would come in without an announcement. 

“My prince?”

He was almost disappointed it wasn’t Laena’s voice he heard. She only called him my prince in the beginning of their marriage, but even then it was playful. If she were to call him my prince now, then he’d know she was cross with him.

“Enter.” 

Daemon faced his body toward the door before he stood. A young woman opened the door to his quarters and bowed her head.

A servant of Reggio’s. Her face was vaguely recognizable.

“My prince, Prince Reggio requests you.”

He only waved the woman away in lieu of a response. She bowed once more before she slipped out the same door she came.

Daemon quickly dressed himself and adorned his belt around his waist. Dark sister lightly tapped against his leg as he walked out into the hallway.

The flickering of candlelight illuminated the corridors as he made his way to Reggio’s solar.

Daemon never particularly liked the man, but he could not say he disliked him either. His feelings for Reggio were rather indifferent.

But he could not deny his annoyance at being summoned. 

Being reborn certainly did not change how quickly he took to anger. 

Daemon rounded a few more corners before he saw the bigger man who was now sitting at his desk. His footsteps caught the prince’s attention. 

“Prince Daemon!” He erupted. 

“Reggio,” he acknowledged, offering him a polite smile. To call the man a prince would be an insult. “Is there a reason I was summoned?”

As always, the Prince of Pentos took it in stride. “Ah, yes! It has been a few moons since you and your lady wife have settled back here in Pentos, yet I have not properly welcomed you.”

Daemon leaned his head back, thinking of the numerous times Reggio has made this very same speech in the past.

“I would like to invite you and your family to feast with me and mine. It would be an honor.”

Daemon thought about Laena and how irate she was with him. He didn’t know if she would even show up were he to accept. 

But she was nothing if not courteous.

“I’ll have to speak with my wife, but I am sure she would love to.” He could be courteous too.

⇄

Laena smiled at her daughters, holding her head in her palm as she listened to them slowly converse in High Valyrian.

Their pronunciation was quite good, and Daemon always remarked how similar they sounded.

“Girls,” she said softly, calling their attention. “There is something I must discuss with you. It is very important and I need you to hear me now.”

Rhaena looked at her with soft eyes, but she found Baela’s to hold suspicion.

“What is it, muña?”

“It is nothing bad,” Laena assured, reaching out to hold her eldest’s hand. “All is well, it is only… I plan for us to leave Pentos soon.”

“What?”

“And go where?” Baela asked. “I like it here!”

Laena looked between them sympathetically. “To Driftmark. To see your grandsire and grandmother. It has been too long since we last saw them.” She smoothed back Baela’s locks, then tweaked Rhaena’s chin, earning her a smile. “Do you not agree?”

Rhaena shrugged. “I like grandsire.”

Baela turned her head to look at her sister, furrowing her brows. “What about grandmother?”

“I like her too!”

“Girls,” Laena chuckled. “I am sure you both love your grandparents, as they love you. And I’m sure that they miss you. I just… it is time we head back to Westeros, do you not think?”

They looked at her blankly.

It was almost jarring to remember that her daughters barely even spent time in Westeros before she died. A total of four times, and the last time they visited, Rhaena wasn't even out of her swaddling clothes. For ten years, Pentos was their true home. Short bursts traveling to the other free cities and her rare trips to Westeros could not be counted. 

So much was taken from her. From them. She hated it.

She would give them the world if she could.

There could never be a stronger love for her than the love of her children.

“Would we go by ship?” Rhaena asked. “Or… by dragon?”

Laena smiled, touching both of their locks. “I would like you two to ride with me on Vhagar. We have done it many times before, it shall be no different.”

Baela looked happy with the prospect.

“What about father?” Rhaena asked. 

A question Laena dreaded to answer.

To be far from Daemon would be a joy she may not be able to succeed in. Knowing his nature, he’d follow them just to be spiteful. 

At least he would follow her to be spiteful.

Much may have happened. Her former husband lived many years after her, and he could have changed, especially during the war, but she had seen much to know that he was also the very same. Unfortunately, Laena did not have the gift of reading his mind.

Perhaps that would actually be a curse.

She did not know everything. She did not see everything, but she saw enough. 

Some of it was difficult to wrap her head around, and more memories kept on filling her head. 

It was odd.

She wished she could know… why me?

“I will have to speak to him about that,” Laena said softly. “Your father, he is reluctant to go back to Westeros.”

“Because of his brother?” Baela asked, knowing of the strife between Daemon and Viserys.

“Perhaps. The king, well, he was not fond of your father and I getting married. But I imagine even he has come to accept it by now.”

Laena knew he had. If anything, it was Laena’s own mother who was never able to come to terms with it.

Laena could not blame her, especially now.

“Is there a chance we would go without father?”

Laena looked into Rhaena’s earnest eyes. The question surprised her. “I… I don’t know, Rhaena. That could be a possibility.”

“What?” Baela sat up, jostling Rhaena beside her. She looked at her mother with something akin to dread. “We can’t just leave without him, muña!”

She lifted her eyebrows. Baela cared for her father, despite his absences. Laena could understand that; she still cared for her own father despite the way he wished to control her very life as he saw fit. When he wasn’t ignoring her, that was.

But she was not as blinded now, as she was then.

“I will not force him to come,” she answered earnestly. “It is his choice.”

Laena knew Baela loved her. There was no lack of a relationship between the two of them, but Baela’s combativeness could be a struggle. She was not afraid to argue.

Laena loved that about her, truly. It showed her strength and unwillingness to bend. 

Her mother once said that Baela reminded her of Laena herself, but Laena was not sure if she deserved that high of praise. If she were like Baela, wouldn’t she have gotten the courage to leave Daemon sooner?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

“Then I’ll make him come,” Baela asserted, nodding to herself in assurance. “He’ll have no other choice, I’ll make sure of that!”

Rhaena looked over at her sister with a smirk.

“I have no doubt, sweet girl,” Laena said, unable to keep the smile off of her own face.

She turned her head in the direction of the hall that led to her solar when she heard a quiet creak. She felt the weight of her daughters’ stares in the back of her head. Their easy banter now broken.

“Muña?” Baela asked. 

Laena looked back over at them. “I just heard something,” she answered their puzzled expressions. “A noise or…”

Baela’s head perked up after a moment and Laena noticed how her eyes strayed from looking at her face.

“Baela, Rhaena, I-”

“Kepa!” Baela exclaimed. 

Now both of her daughters were looking at the doorway. Laena turned her head once more and was met with Daemon leaning against the post. He had a small smile on his face, clearly one reserved for Baela, and Laena hoped it was for Rhaena as well. 

His eyes then looked at her. 

Laena broke away first, feeling her spirits drop immediately. 

“I need to speak with your mother for a moment, girls. I’m sure we’d appreciate some privacy.”

Baela and Rhaena seemingly deflated at his lack of attention, Baela more so, but she didn’t argue. 

Laena looked at them, a sympathetic smile on her face. She loathed being alone with Daemon, but she would not make a scene in front of their children.

“Go,” she whispered to them. “I’ll come to your rooms once we’re done.”

Rhaena nodded and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, an action followed by Baela, then stood up to walk out of the room.

Laena watched the two of them grant Daemon with the same courtesy before they left.

⇄

Daemon peeked his head out, watching them as they walked down the hall.

“Is there a reason you did that?”

“Why didn’t you come to bed last night?” He diverted, asking his own question. 

When he met her gaze, all he found was pure contempt. It was incredibly subtle, something Laena learned to master quite well. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he would have missed it.

Laena settled back, leaning against her arm as she continued to sit on the floor.

“Not that it matters, but I slept in Rhaena and Baela’s chambers. They shared a bed as they often do.” She glanced at the fireplace, her eyes dancing against the flames.

For a moment it left Daemon distracted before Laena spoke again.

“It felt startling to be with them again.” To be able to touch them; hold them close. The words went unsaid, but he heard them all the same. “Maybe it’s odd, but I missed them. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about how happy I was when they were born. Such perfect creatures, and they were mine,” Laena yearned. Daemon watched her. She was so wistful when she reminisced, he could look at her for hours when she was soft like this. “Each time, they were so small.” She chuckled softly, “I remember how scared you were to hold Baela. You were worried you would break her.” 

Daemon remembered. He remembered it well. 

“You were so happy, Daemon. It made me happier to know just how much you loved them, and I did not know that was even possible, because when I looked at their little faces, the joy I had was unimaginable,” Laena said. “And I knew right then and there that I would do the best I could to be worthy of holding the title of being their mother. I was not perfect,” she finally looked over at him, her eyes shining, “I have my fair share of… regrets, but at least I was there.”

His jaw ticked in irritation.

He was such a fool. To believe that Laena was simply reminiscent was such a foolish notion. This woman has had it out for him as soon as they woke up in this damn city. 

And now, here she was, staring at him with such loathing.  

It had been such a long time since he was subjected to it, he’d almost forgotten how scorching it was.

“Is there a point to this?” He asked snidely. “I wonder, does it bring you joy to insult me?” 

“Forgive me, am I hurting your feelings?” She mocked. “I wanted to spend the morning with my daughters and then here you come, rudely disrupting us.” Daemon couldn’t hold back his smile, this was utterly ridiculous. “Is something funny to you? Do you care to share the jest?”

“I have forgotten just how dramatic you are,” Daemon shot back, his voice hard. “I have come to speak with you, not to argue. It seems that is all you want to do, however. You have been nothing but unaccommodating to me.”

“Unaccommodating?” She questioned, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Her sitting position became forgotten as she pushed herself up to her knees. “What accommodations do I owe you, exactly?” 

Daemon watched his wife as she stood. Her hair was bound in a high bun, loose strands of her curls laid gently against her face. She wore a simple blue gown with small jewels adorned on the shoulders, a lacy pattern etched into the edges of her sleeves. 

She was truly so beautiful. It was infuriating. 

“We are both here, Laena. It is a confusing situation for both of us, is it not best that we figure it out together?”

He looked at her with as much sincerity as he could muster and yet her face never changed. Her eyes were sharp and her mouth curved down into a frown.

She closed her eyes, lightly shaking her head. “I cannot do this,” she whispered.

Daemon barely caught it. “What can you not do? Tell me.”

He was trying so hard to be patient. He could not understand why she was being so difficult in return.

“Do you truly not understand? I cannot live this lie,” she emphasized, her eyes creased in distress. “Not again. It was tiring to keep up this farce of an arrangement.”

Daemon frowned. “Arrangement?.. You mean our marriage?”

Laena extended her arm out, gesturing at him as if to say exactly. “I never wanted a husband. I never wanted to marry Maris, but it was what my father demanded of me. The son of the Sealord of Braavos,” she said exaggeratedly. 

Gods, he remembered the man. An absolute drunkard. A fool more like.

“When my father came to understand just how difficult that man was, well, it was almost funny how hard he tried to push back the eventual union between us. In that, I suppose I was grateful, but my father made it clear that marriage was not an option for me. Whether I married Maris or not, I had to marry someone. It didn’t matter what I wanted.” 

All Daemon could do was listen to her. He had never heard her speak of Corlys in that way, nor did she ever talk of Maris.

And she sounded so angry. He was surprised she wasn’t spitting fire at him. 

“I must admit that I was quite taken by you, curious even. When my father told Laenor and I that the Lady Rhea Royce had passed, he suggested that I catch your attention. Considering you were banished at the time, my father thought there was a good chance you would visit High Tide. It was a nice surprise when you ended up attending Laenor and Rhaenyra’s wedding. I remember how irritated the king looked,” Laena laughed indulgingly, though it sounded fake to Daemon’s ears. “My father certainly thought it was amusing.”

“They were not exactly fond of each other,” Daemon uttered.

“My father is rarely fond of anyone.” Daemon tried to meet her eyes, but it was like she was staring right through him. “In the end, all that mattered to him was if he got his way.” She shrugged. “I did what was asked of me, yet I could not help but notice you seemed awfully distracted. It was easy to understand why when I saw you speaking with Rhaenyra. It did not hurt me, how could it? Despite us being kin, I hardly knew you. If anything I worried for my brother. I did not want him to be hurt by you simply because he was married to the woman you wanted.”

Daemon looked toward the fire, a subtle smirk on his face. “We all knew of Laenor’s preferences. There was no need to be-”

“Jealous?” She finished. He did not bother to confirm, nor did she seem to care. When he looked back, she was no longer looking through him, but at him. “Well, despite my curiosity, I was a bit relieved. If you were not interested in me then I did not have to marry you and I was perfectly fine with that. A childish part of me hoped that my father would eventually move on from the idea of me getting married, that he would find some way to dissolve the betrothal between Maris and I. I knew how much Laenor and Rhaenyra’s match pleased him. I was hopeful that it would be enough. All I wanted was freedom and I was foolish enough to believe my father would grant me that.”

“When you came to driftmark a few moons after, I felt such dread. I remember that so clearly. But oh, my father was delighted to see you, as he always was. I would not be surprised if he was actually in love with you,” Laena said, humor clear in her admission. “I did not want to marry you, but after you killed Maris and asked for my hand, I figured there were worse options. Besides, what could I have done? Say no?”

“Laena,” he said, honestly taken aback by her simplicity. 

She only laughed. “Do not act as if I had any real say in the matter. My mother may have been furious about our union, but my father wasn’t and that’s all that mattered. His approval, and yours of course. Do not get me wrong, I wouldn’t have minded getting to know you better, but marriage? Marriage is only another word for imprisonment.”

She must be positively psychotic. 

“I remember, in the rare times you would muster up the courage to look at me, how you would try to assess my thoughts on the matter. Yet, in the end, you would always choose what best suited you. I wanted to go home and you denied me. I had spent years of my life trying to quell your worries and your guilt,” she hissed. “How I felt, that never mattered, it was always about you… I am done with that now. No more trying to make you feel better about your own transgressions. No more excuses. It was never my fault. I am done. You can do as you please, but I will no longer be a part of it. I will not be your shadow ever again.”

Daemon could only shake his head. “I only ever did what was best for us.”

⇄

Laena scoffed, an amused smile stretched her lips. “What was best for you.” 

‘Daemon did what he thought best.’

‘Daemon only does what is best for Daemon.’

“I may never know what could have happened if we went back to Westeros. Perhaps I still would have died, but maybe I would have been less afraid. What I made Vhagar do… I did it because I was afraid. What other choice did I have?” She felt a familiar sting start to build from behind her eyes. She took in a deep breath to stave off the quivers in her voice. “At least I died on my own terms, but it was no dragon rider’s death,” her voice came out quiet and sharp. “I did not truly think, I just took my chance. I did not want to risk being cut open for a babe that might not even survive!”

Her words were cruel and she hated saying them, but she meant them.

“I would never do that!” Daemon matched her sharpness. He looked absolutely furious that she could possibly insinuate that. 

“Wouldn’t you? I doubt the idea of killing a woman makes you squirm. Not even one that’s your wife.” Daemon never admitted to murdering Rhea Royce, not to her, but Laena heard the rumors. She didn’t know what to believe. But after ten years of her husband’s company, the possibility of it became less and less impossible. She has quite literally witnessed Daemon kill people right in front of her. He never batted an eye. 

“I would never hurt you, Laena.” he said, easily avoiding her insinuation.

Yes you would, she almost said. “You have hurt me, Daemon. How you could even deny that is beyond me.” Daemon looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here. “You cannot even hold yourself accountable. It makes you so uncomfortable when I call you out.”

“I doubt anyone enjoys that,” Daemon drawled. 

Laena rolled her eyes. “You don’t care what anyone thinks about you. All you do is laugh because everything is a joke to you.”

“I can tell you now that nothing about this is funny,” he shot back. “Do you see me laughing?’

“I suppose I should be thankful then. Can you leave now?” She walked around him to take a seat at her desk. She crossed her legs comfortably as she opened the drawer to gather some parchment. 

“Laena..” His voice sounded strained. “I know that I was not the best husband to you, but I did the best I could with what I had.” Laena stopped moving, his words made her freeze. “We were happy. I know we were happy.”

Laena let out an amused exhale. 

Happy?

‘Did you love her?’

‘We were happy enough.’

She turned her body in his direction. His face was open, relaxed. She could only look at him with incredulity. 

“What an arrogant little creature you are,” Laena said, a creeping smile stretching her lips. “Ten years I have wasted with you. The only prize I won were my daughters, and for that I could never regret being your wife, but I still wanted my freedom. I would like to think you could understand that better than anyone considering how unhappy you were in your first marriage.”

“You were not a prisoner, you were my wife,” Daemon said sharply. 

“Aye, I was!” Laena exclaimed, her eyes widened the slightest amount. “And I loved you,” she admitted bluntly. “I excused much of your behavior because of that love. I told Rhaena that you were ‘doing your best’ as a father because of that love! I am not perfect, the gods know that I know, and I have let you get away with much, but I will not allow it anymore. I will not be subdued nor shall I excuse you. I am the blood of the dragon, just as you are, and I will not be your lesser.”

⇄

She stared up at him with such defiance, he had to admire her for that.

She was strong-willed, his brave girl.

“I never saw you as beneath me, Laena.” How could he? She was so full of life when they married. All she wanted to do was fly on Vhagar and have adventures. “Our marriage was not made out of love, but it grew into that.” She scoffed, looking away from him for a moment. “I loved you,” he insisted. “I loved you the best way I knew how, and I still love you.”

“No. Do not say that to me. I don’t want to hear it.”

”You act as if I’ve never said those words to you! I have, Laena!”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t love. I was shackled to you.” Daemon did not take kindly to that brash disclosure of hers. “I have been suffocated by your infatuations,” she stressed, “for years on end. Serving girls, serving boys, you certainly did not discriminate, husband!” Laena said, speaking as if she were telling a jest. To her, it may as well be. “And now you speak of love.”

“I remember you enjoying a woman or two.”

“And I remember how upset you were, were you not?” She asked softly. “Excusing it as her being ‘below my station,’ as if that ever truly mattered to you.”

A kind maid. Her name was Thalia, if he recalled correctly. She was under Prince Reggio’s service and became quite close with Laena. 

When he found them abed together, he demanded her to leave; loud and livid.  He was not fond of sharing.

He remembered how Laena cried when Thalia was forced to depart Reggio’s manse.

He remembered how, even in her grief, she condemned him. She shouted and cursed him. 

Daemon had stayed silent, but he kept his eye on her as she flailed about the room. 

She would not deem to look at him for days thereafter.

And for the rest of her life, her eyes would only harden when she looked upon him. She rarely gazed at him sweetly, but he remembered when she spoke of dying a dragon rider's death, and how she longed to go home. She looked at him sweetly then, but it was short lived.

She despised him, he knew that to be true. She loved him, he knew that just as well. 

“Yet if I ever spoke to you of your Pentoshi squire, then I was made into the overbearing wife.” Laena spoke with clear bitterness in her voice. 

“What do you want from me?” He asked haughtily. He could not help himself.

A familiar sadness swarmed her eyes. It was always hard for him to look at her when she was like that.

He was always the one responsible. 

“I don’t want anything from you,” she admitted, her voice soft. She was always good at that. “I don’t even want to be around you. When I look at you, it makes me sad. You make me feel sad… What I want is to be with my children. I have lost so much time with them and I must remedy that. They will always be my joy.”

For someone who was accused of being careless, he cared quite a bit about what she had to say.

“And perhaps it is true that I have disappointed you, that the life we had together was not the life you wanted, but I cannot find it in myself to care anymore,” she stated frankly, even a bit amused. “I have spent so much time trying to understand you and it has gained me nothing. I loved you, Daemon, but I cannot remember a time where I ever liked you.” 

A bitter man, Laena once called him.

She was not wrong.

“You hadn’t disappointed me, Laena. Half of the time I didn’t even know why I was so… distant,” he confessed. 

It was never because he settled. It was not even about Rhaenyra. He would be lying if he said he never thought about her, but to say he never wanted to marry Laena would also be a lie. Laena gave him peace, he hadn’t had that for a long time before she came into his life. She gave him a family, one of his very own. She always strived for more.  

How could he not have wanted her?

She pulled him in, and he was happy to oblige.

“It hurt me to hurt you.” 

Laena hummed. Her smile was bitter.

Sometimes he wished he could see inside her head. He wanted to know what she was thinking. 

It wouldn't be too hard to guess. She was probably cursing him.

“Whatever grievance you have with me, let us mend it,” he spoke at last. “Reggio has invited us and our daughters to dine with him and his family. I accepted.”

“How presumptuous of you.” She sounded tired. 

It felt as though they had been arguing for hours. Perhaps they had.

“I know it may be the last thing you want right now, but Reggio has been good to us. If we must indulge him from time to time, well, I can imagine worse endeavors.”

Like watching you burn yourself alive.

“It’s awfully polite of you.”

“I am trying,” he said, perhaps a bit too truthfully. 

⇄

Laena did not care.

She was going to leave as soon as possible, she decided. Sooner than she intended.

Daemon was who he was. He will not change. She had quite literally watched his life, and he may have had his moments of calm, but he was still the same. Perhaps worse.

He was a vile man. Abusive. Murderous. 

She was not stupid enough to trust him.

He had spoken sweetly to her before. Honey practically dripping from his lips.

He has said words that made her melt, surprising her with how soft he acted. It was all a lie.  

She had learned that, if not before, the day the remains of her body hit the seafloor of Driftmark. 

He couldn’t even comfort her children during the eulogy. Instead, he laughed. He laughed, for Rhaenyra’s benefit. 

It was bad enough her Uncle Vaemond was using her death as an opportunity to shame Rhaenyra and Laenor’s sons, but it was even worse when Daemon laughed like a fool. Gods, even her father looked like he wanted to slap him for that.

Her own funeral could not even be about her!

And now, her dear husband had the audacity to invite her and their children to dinner with the Prince of Pentos? 

He was acting like all of this was normal, like their lives had not been destroyed.

They were back alive, that was not normal. Was she the only one struggling with that fact?

Laena hummed. “It is the least we can do,” she played along. “I shall see you tonight then.”

She gathered her papers and abruptly stood. If Daemon were any closer she might have jostled him.

She genuinely feared to touch him. She didn’t want him to touch her.

Before he could say anything more, she glided out of the room and went to find Baela and Rhaena.

“We’re leaving tomorrow, before the sun sets,” she announced once they were found. “I will have our ladies help us pack, but take what is most important on hand. Everything else will travel by ship.”

Her girls looked at her, blinked, and then the questions began.

Laena put on a Velaryon blue dress, similar to her morning gown, but adorned with more jewels and gold. An old gift from her father.

She kept her hair as it was, but added a small hairpin that laid near the bottom of her bun.

Rhaena and Baela wore pink and purple dresses respectively, with matching frills that went down to their feet. 

Laena styled their hair into intricate french braids. 

She liked to do their hair herself, as she liked to do her own. 

When Daemon began to actively deny her trips to Driftmark, Laena began to fashion her daughters’ hair in dreadlocks. A style her brother and father both wore. 

By the time she had died, her girls had been wearing dreadlocks for a few years.

Rhaena had kept the style, but Baela had decided to try something new.

Her mother would always compare Baela to her, and Laena remembered how it made Baela smile, but it was always a sad one. 

Her poor Rhaena was not as fortunate. 

When the war started, Daemon became more attentive to them, yet she could not say there was much of a difference.

Laena wished she could have held them and protected them, but she was only a bystander.

She was never able to intervene. 

When she thought of that now, it just made her sad.

“Mother?” Laena looked over and down to where the voice resonated. “Are you okay?”

Rhaena’s sweet face was contorted into a precious look of concern. Laena could weep, she loved her so much. 

Laena reached out and gently rubbed her thumb over her sweet girl’s cheek. “I am perfectly fine,” she said, smiling softly. “I was just thinking.”

Rhaena accepted her answer easily enough. “Will father be escorting us to dinner?”

“We shall escort ourselves,” Laena proclaimed.

Baela walked over to them, a disgruntled look on her face. She pressed herself into Laena’s side. “I do not want to go to dinner,” she grumbled. “Prince Reggio is too loud,” she turned her nose up at the thought. 

Laena suppressed a laugh. She remembered the look of displeasure on Baela’s face when she had once theorized that Reggio wished to betroth his sons to her daughters. 

Baela was never one to fantasize of marriage, not like her sister had.

“This will be our last dinner, at least for a while, I swear.” Laena kissed the top of her head for good measure.

She grabbed both of their hands in hers and left her solar. 

They walked the short distance down the hall, the candle light acting as their guide.

When they turned the corner that was attached to the dining room, Laena was suddenly taken back to that disastrous day.

Daemon sat at the head of the table on one side and Prince Reggio sat on the other. His wife and children were sitting near him respectively while Daemon was all alone.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself, too quiet for her girls to hear.

She was discovered before she could even make up a hypothetical escape.

“Ah, Lady Laena!” Prince Reggio greeted.

Everyone’s attention was now on her, Daemon’s especially.

Rhaena seemed to squeeze her hand tighter, but perhaps that was only her imagination.

“Your highness,” she greeted politely. “It was kind of you to invite my family and I to dine with you tonight.” Laena’s eyes surveyed Reggio and his children until they landed on Reggio’s wife. Her name was Alba, a kind, busty woman, albeit much quieter than her husband. She offered her a kind smile.

“Of course, you are our honored guests!” Reggio cheered.

Guests for ten years, Laena thought.

What an undeniable farce.

‘They are using us!’

‘It’s refreshing, isn’t it?.. A simple transaction. We have dragons, they have gold.’

Pentos could never be her home, not with all of the baggage that came with it.

Laena led her children to their seats. Baela sat opposite of her near Daemon while Laena and Rhaena sat on the other.

It was an arrangement that was established every time Prince Reggio invited them to dinner.

They scooted in their chairs and the servants quickly laid out their dinner for the night.

Roasted Mutton, Peas, Asparagus, Blackberries, and an abundance of Cheese was revealed in a synchronous fashion. 

Laena was thankful that Reggio wasn’t as boisterous as the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms could be. She once had to suffer through eighty courses for her nameday, a demand of her father. No one could say that Lord Corlys didn’t enjoy a lavish celebration. 

She ate her serving slowly, listening to the moderate conversation that was tried here and there. 

Reggio spoke most often, as he normally would, and Laena pretended to listen.

It was safe to say that her presence was not a joy. She always tried to keep a polite smile on her face and speak when it was wanted of her. She had perfected the veil of courtesy in the public eye.

Yet she was not feeling the need to pretend anymore.

“My Lady Laena,” the sound of her name pulled her back in. Instead of pushing around the peas on her plate, her attention focused on the Prince of Pentos. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Is all well?”

Hardly, she thought. 

Laena unconsciously glanced at Daemon in the corner of her eye. Her husband was watching her like a hawk. “I am quite fine, thank you.” She set down her fork, a sudden foolish thought taking over. “There is actually a matter I have been meaning to discuss with you, your excellency. Well, more so an intention.”

“Of course, what is on your mind, my lady?” Prince Reggio asked.

“I… I have planned to take my daughters and myself back to Driftmark soon.”

She did not miss the quick glance Reggio took towards Daemon before his eyes landed on her again. She would not like to see whatever stupid face Daemon was making.

“I see, we would be sad to see you go.” I’m sure you would. Perhaps sadder to see Vhagar and Moondancer go. “How soon do you plan to depart, my lady - if it isn’t inappropriate of me to ask?”

Laena touched Rhaena’s shoulder, finding comfort in her presence. “Tomorrow, before sundown.”

She heard Daemon choke on what she assumed to be the wine he was busy scarfing down. 

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“My, that is soon,” Reggio softly chuckled.

It was good-natured, but Laena still found no humor in it.

“I apologize for any inconvenience.” She could feel Daemon’s eyes searing into the side of her face. “It is only, I miss my mother and my father. It has been quite some time since I last saw them. And I know my daughters are eager as well,” Laena smiled. 

She hated how the Pentoshi Prince surveyed her daughters, as if to determine their eagerness himself. 

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything so soon. 

Now she would have to suffer through the rest of the evening, listening to Daemon’s low tone and Reggio’s false advances.

She could only be grateful Baela and Rhaena were not as troubled as she was.

Once the dinner was done, Laena made sure to leave the room as quickly as she could without raising suspicion. She kept Baela and Rhaena clutched close to her, causing Baela to question their rush.

Laena heard the sound of heavy footsteps before she could muster up a response.

“Laena!” Daemon barked. “Do not walk away from me!”

She stopped, steeling herself internally.

“Girls, go to your rooms,” she whispered. “Your father and I need to discuss… some things,” she ended weakly.

His presence loomed behind her. She could almost feel him breathing down her neck.

Baela and Rhaena both gave her matching looks of concern. They might as well have been twins.

“All will be well,” she assured them. 

Baela tried to gain a look at Daemon behind her, but she must have disliked what she saw considering the deep frown on her face.

“Mama…” she said, warily.

Baela and Rhaena loved their father, but they were not unaware of his anger. They had heard the shouts, the pounding footsteps, and regretfully, they had seen her tears. 

Laena had found that Baela would not speak to Daemon for days after he made her cry. It was sweet how protective she was, but it was Laena’s job to protect her, not the other way around.

“All will be well,” Laena repeated, softer. “Have Elise dress you both for bed. I will come later.” She leaned down to kiss them each on the forehead, effectively ending any protests. “Say goodnight to your father.”

With one last look, they padded around her.

No words were exchanged, but the sound of soft, quick kisses greeted her ears.

She did not want to send them away, but it was better that they would not be around to witness what was undoubtedly going to occur.

Daemon was angry, and in all honesty, so was she. 

“You have truly outdone yourself, Laena. Making a spectacle, embarrassing me!” He hissed lowly.

She hardly embarrassed him. Perhaps he was taken aback, but no one else knew. 

He followed her as she descended further into the hall.

“I have been trying to be civil and patient with you, and you have been making it difficult.”

“Of course, it is always I at fault, never you,” she retorted. “I feel as if all I do is talk through you because you never listen.”

He grabbed her wrist, and pulled her so that she spun around to face his fury.

A tight grip, surely it would bruise.

“What are you talking about?”

“How did you think this would end, Daemon? Did you truly think that we would go back to the way it was? That I would stay here? That I would make my daughters stay?” She snapped, meeting his glare with ease. She ripped her wrist from him. “I told you we were set to leave!” Her voice strained. “I was not jesting, yet I’m sure you took it as that.”

“Pentos is where we belong!” 

“We don’t belong anywhere!” Laena hissed his past words back at him.

‘We are the blood of Old Valyria.’

‘Old Valyria is gone, we don’t belong anywhere.’

Once it came back to him, he laughed. “Is that what you will do now, throw my words back at me?”

“Why not? It is perfect,” she said softly, bitterly.

“You are acting like a child.”

“Well, perhaps that would endear me to you more.” That wiped the satisfaction right off of his face. A frown creased his brows. “I feel sorry for you,” she said, her voice now soft, whiplashingly so. 

Laena turned her back to him and continued down the hall. She reached the door of her small solar and opened it. By the time she went to shut it, Daemon blocked her ability, pushing it back open.

She stepped back, unflinching.

“You feel sorry for me?” He asked, indignant, even a bit crazed. 

“I do, because this is who you are. You see no faults within yourself. You are vile, and evil, and I shall not sully myself even more by pretending you’re not,” she spat. He bristled in response. “If you wish to stay here, I will not stop you. I meant it, I am done trying to appease you. I shall do what I know is best for me and my children.”

“And what is best is leaving me behind? Their father, your husband!”

Laena could not contain her bitter laugh. “And what an amazing job you did on both accounts,” she mocked. “As far as I am concerned, we are not married anymore. I died, whatever ties we had to each other are over.”

“That is mad, it doesn’t work like that,” he drawled.

“As if you would know! Tell me, who have you known to come back to life after years of being dead?” She could tell she was pushing him, but it felt so good to just let it all out. “Besides, you remarried, you told me so, and it was to the woman you so dearly wanted. It is better that way, for both of us, me especially. I’ve found that women are often at the mercy of their husbands, I do not wish to be one of them.” Not again.

“Is that what it has come to, hm? Such spite you hold for me.” 

Internally, Laena rolled her eyes. He took her life and he has the audacity to act as if she is the one wronging him.

“I don’t owe you anything, Daemon. I owe you no loyalty. I was only a project to you.”

He scoffed. “That is not true.”

“No?” She asked, letting the question hang in the air. “The famous Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, a man loyal to no one but himself and his dragon. A man who, no doubt, thinks he is above everyone and everything. Yet, what could you possibly have offered me? A second son with no lands, or titles, or coin except that of your brother’s… In the end, I deserved better than what you gave me. I deserved better than what was offered.”

Laena turned from him and went over to the fire place, adding more fuel to stoke the flames.

“I do not know what you wish for me to say, Laena.”

“A man of few words, you are,” she murmured. “There is nothing you can say, fear not. There is nothing left to keep me here.”

Laena looked at him, finding some amount of sympathy within her. “Stay if you wish to stay, Daemon. I once believed that you were better than this,” she gestured around, “but perhaps I was wrong. And that is fine, Pentos is a fine place, but it is not my home. So, stay or don’t. Go to Rhaenyra if that is your wish. Perhaps she will be happy to see you. Mayhaps she remembers too.”

Daemon grimaced. It was so slight that she almost missed it.

He certainly remembers what he did then, Laena mused.

“It is not Rhaenyra I want,” he said, softly.

Laena smiled, but it was out of resentment. She wanted him to leave her alone.

“What about what I want?” She asked, a seething tilt to her voice. The question was familiar to her, like she had heard it from someone else before.

“You,” he stepped towards her with intent, “are my wife. My priority.”

Elegantly, she got to her feet. What a funny thing for him to say, considering she wasn’t a priority for him before.

It never mattered if she was his wife. 

“How long shall this charade continue, Daemon? Will you be spouting continuous acts of love until I depart tomorrow?”

“You’re not leaving, Laena.” 

It was phrased more as a statement than a question.

How could she make it clearer for him to see that she meant every word she said?

“I am. Tomorrow, before the sun sets.”

“All of this is insanity, Laena, you must know that.”

“I am not the one pretending here.”

“What exactly am I pretending about?” He sneered.

She looked at him, a hard frown between her brows. “You loved her, Daemon. I know it was so. You married her.” You could not marry her soon enough, it seemed. “She was the wife you wanted. You swore your duty towards her, or at least as much duty a man like you can have,” she smiled. “I was never your priority, dead or alive.” Laena raised her eyebrows. “I am not a girl of sixteen anymore. I am older, and hopefully, wiser.” 

If it weren’t for his clenched jaw, she might’ve imagined there to be no thoughts inside his head.

“I am taking my daughters with me to Driftmark and I will never let anyone take them from me again. I will protect them better than you ever could. I always had.”

He was silent for longer than she liked. She’d rather he left her alone than stay, studying her.

“You mistake me, Laena. I would never deem to take Baela or Rhaena from you. Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

Laena only shook her head. It was in both parts belief and disbelief. 

Daemon separated her daughters from each other for six years after she died. He let her mother host Baela, only for Rhaena to be neglected in his care. 

She saw him as no man at all.

“I see you as you are, Daemon. I have said it over and over.” She could feel the angry tears spread across her eye line. This constant ‘song and dance’ was mind numbing. “You can act as if you care about me, like it pains you to see me hurt, but that is all it is! An act.”

She had seen it herself firsthand. In front of others, he would be resistant. No one could share in his grief, if he even had any to begin with. 

Anytime Laena’s name was mentioned in any scenario, Daemon would either smile his crotchety smile or look away in distaste. 

He was monotonous. 

“An act?” He sneered. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“I know more than you would think,” she retaliated in kind. 

She almost laughed at the scowl that reconstructed his face. 

He could be so dramatic. 

“Is that so?...” And as if she said something to add to his turmoil, he nearly erupted. “How do you know how I feel?”

“Because if you cared about me you wouldn’t have laughed before my body hit the fucking sea floor, Daemon!” She matched his intensity.

It did not matter if it was for Rhaenyra’s benefit, he should have kept his mouth shut.

Even her daughters looked at their father with disgust. He was an embarrassment.

“If you cared,” she continued; slower, “you would have held Baela and Rhaena as they cried for me, not hand them off to my mother!” 

As soon as her eyes pierced into his, she knew what she had done. 

Laena took in a quiet breath of regret. She could not even last three days.

His brows were furrowed. “Did Baela and Rhaena tell you?”

Then she exhaled, slightly amused. “No. I do not think they know anything from… before.”

He looked like he didn’t know whether he should speak or shut up. It was a funny look on him. Ordinarily, he would simply say whatever was on his mind without care. It was his way.

“Laena, I…”

“What?” She inclined her head, awaiting whatever stupid words would fall from his lips. “Have I surprised you?”

Is your only defense to say my name?  She wanted to ask.

“I don’t understand how-”

“How I knew you embarrassed me?” She finished. “Even dead I could not escape your humiliation.”

“Laena…” Perhaps now he was the one embarrassed. 

Doubtful.

“I haven’t a clue why I remember what I remember,” she answered the unasked question. “There could be a number of reasons. A punishment, a joke, or mayhaps a warning. All I do know is that I have been a spectator for nearly two hundred years.”

“Two hundred years?” He asked, almost to himself.

She ignored him. “It was a sad show, indeed. I was finally back in my home, only as a burned corpse,” Laena stated bluntly. “So many people were there in attendance… and no one cared for me. My brother and daughters amongst the only ones who truly grieved. At least I can take comfort in knowing that they loved me enough to do so.”

⇄

And no one cared for me.

Daemon remembered the way Vhagar’s fire turned Laena’s body into ash. It was so quick.

Of course he had seen it in war. Caraxes was able to burn men by the dozen with nothing left to speak of. 

But to see it happen to Laena, it was almost unnatural.

He had felt utter despair build inside of him. His eyes burned so painfully that he feared they would melt away.

Laena was right there. And then she was gone.

‘Dracarys. Vhagar. Dracarys!’

He tried to stop her. He called out for her.

He was too late. Pitifully so.

By the time Vhagar opened her maw and spurted flame, it was like his heart was torn out of his chest.

He stood there frozen for so long, breathing shakily.

Then he couldn’t breathe at all. 

He collapsed to his knees, just as she had, and weeped. He remembered how he struggled to catch his breath.

He loved her, and she was dead.

He would dream of her nearly every night since. Sometimes he would dream of her well and happy in bed, holding their newborn son. More often than not he would see a repeat of that terrible night. Laena would be engulfed in dragon fire and there was nothing he could have done.

There was one time when he saw her, standing before him, and her face was a collection of molten flesh. Red and black in both measures.

He could barely recognize her at first.

The being that wore Laena’s burned face had simply stared at him. She looked at him with nothing but dull judgement. She had always judged him, even when she was alive and breathing.

When he first came to Harrenhal, he saw her there too. Only she was the same as he remembered her -- dark, smooth skin, and full lips. She walked amongst him, whispered into his ear. But even then, she always had that glint of disgust in her eye.

She had haunted him in every aspect.

“It wasn’t until I was… put back into my body,” Laena said forcefully, “that I realized how sad my life was. I truly pity myself.”

She scoffed out a harsh laugh. It angered him how doomed she made it all sound. Their life was good. Certainly much better than she made it out to be.

“That is nonsense,” he blurted, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “you exaggerate.”

“Do not insult me, Daemon,” she raised her voice, speaking sternly. “I saw my mother and my father when they received your raven, I saw it. The news caught them by surprise, and after their initial shock wore off, they grieved. I won’t deny that of them, but my father barely managed to shed a tear and my mother… Well, let’s say she was more upset over Laenor’s death than my own. I never thought I would care about how people felt when I died. I thought everything would simply be over,” she scoffed out a laugh. “But now, I know things I wish I didn’t, and all I have learned is that I meant nothing to the people who were supposed to care about me in the first place!” He thought he saw tears gathered in her eyes, but when she blinked, they were gone. “Not even my own fucking funeral could be about me.” 

⇄

Laena could still picture the scene perfectly. 

Near the castle walls, her daughters sat alone. Daemon stood astray from them, scanning the crowd and even occasionally looking out to sea.

Even Rhaenyra comforted her boys more than Daemon did his own daughters whilst they mourned their mother.

Nonetheless, the two of them certainly spared enough time to leer at each other shamelessly.

Her body had just hit the seafloor and her cousin and husband could not keep their eyes off each other.

It was unfortunate that Laena’s mother had to take over his job as a father; comforting Baela and Rhaena in his stead. It was made even sadder knowing how they wished for him to give them kisses and tell them that ‘everything would be alright.’ 

Alas, he was only a lust-filled beast. 

It would not be cruel to shield them from him. Their lives would no doubt be better for it.

“I had a little speech prepared for me,” she mocked, “though it was not entirely just for me, was it? My uncle surely took any opportunity he had to boast about how true and thick Velaryon blood was. Gods, I love my family and I am proud of it, but who cares about blood purity?” 

Of course she knew the answer. Too many. 

Even her father, the man who declared that history only remembered names, cared for blood purity. 

It was nice to take part in an ancient bloodline, Laena would not deny, but she never saw herself as above others for it. That was ridiculous.

She smiled at him, a smarmy smile that let Daemon know she was far from happy. “I could not be given one day of remembrance. Not one day of my own. What is sadder than that, I must know.” She threw another log into the fire. “Heirs and betrothals and flirting and fucking nieces on the beach of my homeland were far more important than a day spared for a dead woman, no doubt.”

Her words were not said out of jealousy, but it did feel good to see a drop of shame shine in his eyes. 

He was not a man to be shamed, yet he deserved it more than anyone she knew.

“We all grieve differently,” Daemon said. 

“Well, that is true enough,” Laena whispered. “You had waited quite awhile for her after all. It must have been hard for you.”

He smiled; cruel man that he was. “We were simply comforting each other in our grief. I imagine you would have done the same if it were me in your stead.”

Laena guffawked. “You have the gall to say that? To me? The wife who suffered through your poor company for ten years while you sulked and sheltered yourself as if you were some poor victim. Do not forget that it was you who refused to go back to Westeros, not I! Comforting each other in our grief,” she repeated. “You should have gone to the seven hells when the world finally rid of you.”

“I find it hard to believe that I did not,” he admitted, a hint of a question in his voice. When she said nothing, he spoke again, sighing. “I never meant to offend you.”

She wondered if he ever heard himself speak. All he wanted to do was offend. She was no fool to believe otherwise.

“It is just sad to me, how unimportant Laenor and I were to you and Rhaenyra.” There was no sadness in her voice as she said those words, however. She held Daemon’s stare, unyielding. “Look at what my life became without you,” her voice became shrill, obscenely so. “Droll tragedy.” 

Daemon caught on quickly. “Laena…” he said in that begrudging way of his. Perhaps those words swirled inside his head as much as they did inside hers. 

It might have been in poor taste for her to imitate Rhaenyra, considering the suffering her cousin went through during the dance, but Laena was tired of holding her tongue.

She looked up to Rhaenyra, loved her even. It seemed her cousin did not share the same sentiment.

Laena pressed her fist against her chest. “What’d you think of my life by comparison?” Her voice became deeply gruff and more nasal. Her princely husband was certainly easier to mock, yet it was still a poor rendition. She was never a mummer. 

⇄

Amusement was sparkling in her eyes. The slightest smile adorned her lips.

Had she not barely sipped from her goblet during their meal, he would have thought she was drunk. He might have even been amused by her display himself if it weren’t for the cruelty in her smile. 

He was almost amazed by how unrelenting she was.

There were times when she could not let something go, but at the end of the day, they were normally able to set aside their quarrels.

It became more difficult to do that in the latter part of their marriage. Laena was not as… forgiving. 

"Well," she laughed, "at least it was quite humorous. Certainly moving." 

Resentment and white-hot spite was her ardor.

And what could he say to her? 

“You were to blame for every pathetic disservice you felt was given to you,” Laena hissed. “I never asked to be isolated from my family, I never asked to be carted off to Pentos and made into this dreary wife! You were the one who sequestered us off, you were the one who did not wish to go back to Westeros, not I! Yet… it seems as if I was the one to take the blame. I was made the enemy. How was that fair?”

“I have never blamed you for that, Laena. You must stop twisting my words.”

“What am I twisting, exactly? The king banished you, exiled you, yet that never stopped you from coming back before you were supposed to. At any moment you could have done the same with or without me and my daughters, I wouldn’t have objected, and you know that. You cannot even argue that you did stay for Baela and Rhaena, because you were never there!” Laena exclaimed.

Daemon gritted his teeth. “That is not true!”

“Yes it is!” She nearly shrieked, and she was never one to raise her voice. “Do you think an occasional Valyrian lesson, only going over dragon commands, with Baela up in your solar was sufficient enough? And do not forget how you practically ignored Rhaena’s existence!”

His jaw ticked. “Laena-”

“Enough, Daemon. No more excuses,” her voice lowered. “My daughters deserved a proper father and you couldn’t even do that! I died and you became even worse than you were! Gods, you couldn’t even wait a proper mourning period before you remarried! Baela and Rhaena were still wearing the bruises and cuts that boy Aemond gave them!” She looked at him in a dumbfounded way, like he was the most dull-witted man alive. “Do you have a shred of decency inside you?” It was like he was getting berated by his mother. “I would have liked to say you do, but I have seen you commit many terrible crimes, more than I’d like to have been partial to. As if I had a choice,” Laena muttered. He could barely hear her. 

She seemed so sad. He made this beautiful, bright woman so sad. So angry.

He loved her. He wanted her.

“You spared Rhaenyra. You spared her, yet you did not spare me. Why? I deserve to know.”

‘You were a child. I spared you. ’ He recalled. 

“I was younger than my cousin,” Laena intoned, “more so a child. Why then was I worth less? Is it because I am Velaryon in name, not Targaryen?”

Daemon could not hold back a scoff. “Pray tell, do you tire of your exaggerations? What you say is absurd.”

“Aye, absurd,” Laena mocked. “Do not act as if the wellbeing of my house was ever a concern of yours. Oh, that truth I know very well. You simply used me- us, as you pleased. By the gods, you and Rhaenyra sent Laenor away while he was grieving me!”

Daemon frowned. “How did you-”

“I know everything, Daemon. I might just be cursed.” 

She was so cynical. “Laenor wanted to be free. He hated court life, I could not blame him for that.”

Laena smiled cruelly. “Aye, that’s why you isolated yourself on Dragonstone for nearly another decade. It was good to know your habits didn’t always change.” She let out an amused breath, shutting her eyes for a moment. “You would have killed him if he refused, Daemon. Despite whatever closeness you had. He knew it, I knew it, and you knew it. So please, do not act the innocent. Having him leave was not a kindness, it was selfishness.” Daemon looked uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Do you truly think the idea of leaving behind his sons would have been praised if his mind were cleared? No, he loved those boys. He told me so, he wrote to me, saying so. You used his grief to your advantage, and you killed an innocent man to do it.” She waved her hand. “Granted, you and Rhaenyra may not have taken any of that into consideration, but I want you to know that Laenor’s life, having to hide in the free cities, was no freedom. He was miserable. In the end… he died miserable, full of regret.” Her face softened. “I want to see him again. Alive. I want to protect him as I wish I could have.”

“I’m sure Laenor can protect himself,” Daemon uttered.

“He’s my brother,” she said, as simple as that. “He and my daughters have suffered enough.”

Daemon came closer, slowly prowling towards Laena who took a step back. It gave him a moment of pause. “You hold so much hate for me,” he said. “Do you fear me as well? You thought I would cut our son out of you, so you commanded Vhagar to burn you alive instead.” His words were crass, dangerous.

Her face grew darker. “I did it to get away from you,” she hissed resolutely.

As soon as her declaration left her lips, the hatred slid from her face and was replaced by surprise. Daemon could only imagine what his own face was expressing.

He always felt guilt for not being fast enough to save her. 

But to hear her say that she chose death because of him was unimaginable.

Laena went towards the door and he grabbed her arm before she could pass him by. He didn’t want her to leave, even when she hurt him.

“Let go of me, Daemon,” she said, her voice shaky, close to his ear.

She broke her arm free before he could heed her demand. 

He listened as she opened the door. Her footsteps echoed down the hall.

Laena felt her mind run wild.

Why couldn’t I keep it together a little longer?

Why did I have to say that?

Fool. Fool. Fool.

She rushed down the halls and nearly flew out of the manse, her feet crunched against the sand.                                                                                                                                                                  

She felt distressed. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute. 

Laena gripped at the roots of her hair as the feeling of unshed tears started to infiltrate her eyes. Her heart was pounding and a great sense of fear held onto her tightly.

She tried to take in deep breaths, but she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

Her legs felt weak, like she would collapse.

A soft cooing reached her ears before she could delve further into her panic.

Laena’s head shot up as she walked further into the sea line. A large shadow flew through the sky, a familiar sight.

Vhagar was circling over her, slowly descending to the ground. 

Laena sniffled, wiping the tear that managed to fall down her cheek. Vhagar let out another soft coo, a sound that surprised most when they heard it, but not Laena. She knew her dragon, and she was not just some beast. 

Vhagar knew Laena needed her. They shared a soul.

The ground shook as the she-dragon landed. 

“Vhagar,” she whispered, a scratchy sound. 

Laena was only a mere foot away from her. She broke the distance, touching the large snout that Vhagar offered her. A short puff of air hit her, followed by a quiet groan.

Laena stared into one of her yellow eyes. “I’ve made a grievous mistake. I ruined everything. I’m sorry.” Vhagar nudged into her palm as gently as a creature her size could. “Vhagar, iksan vaoreznuni!” 

“I regret what I did. I regret it. It was a cruel thing I asked of you, and no doubt it scarred my children.” Laena hoped they had been in bed, she hoped they didn’t see anything. She had been hoping that ever since she first woke up. “I would do anything to change that! Perhaps that is what my curse is; having all of these memories! A dragon should never have to burn their rider alive. Iksan vaoreznuni.” Laena pressed three kisses to her scales, another pledge of her sincerity. “I wish I said a proper goodbye; to you, to my girls, even my brother. You all deserved better than what I left you with. This is my punishment,” she wept, squeezing out more tears. 

Vhagar kept nudging her. She purred low in her throat. Laena might even say her beloved was trying to cheer her. Even comfort her.

Laena nuzzled her in kind, running her palm over the warm, rough skin.

Slowly, she slid to the ground and leaned against the dragon. Vhagar’s wings were curled around her, cocooning her in a sense of comfort and privacy. They might as well have been the only creatures on Earth. 

Laena wound her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. The sound of the wind and Vhagar’s soft chuffing was all she could hear. It was a familiar tune, one she had grown to love as it gave her a semblance of peace.

“It is odd, I think,” she began, “to watch your children grow without having the ability to touch them. I remember it quite well. I was there, so close to Baela and Rhaena, yet they could not feel me, nor hear me. I was this forced, invisible presence.” Her head turned slightly, trying to look up at Vhagar, but could only meet the center of her gullet. “Did you sense me, Vhagar?” 

Vhagar huffed. 

“Gods, I must be losing my mind,” she whispered to herself. She just wished she could understand it all. Not just why she knew nearly everything from Rhaenyra’s reign down to Daenerys’, but what was she supposed to do with it? 

She may never know, but she will never stop asking why.

“My daughters were beautiful little girls and they grew into beautiful women. They were strong, more powerful than was credited to them.” Laena peered at the holes left in Vhagar’s wing, then reached out to touch the leathery texture. Vhagar chittered from the feeling. Laena smiled wistfully. “I wonder if my mother thought it was unfair that she outlived me. Perhaps I'll ask her, if she remembers as Daemon and I do. It would probably be better if she didn’t.” Laena leaned her head back, slipping into another bout of melancholy. “It wasn’t until I had first opened my eyes that I realized how utterly alone I am in this world,” she breathed. Her mouth relaxed into a frown, but then another thought made her smile just as quickly. “Well, save you, my girl.” She scratched Vhagar’s scales. Her mount let out a pleased rumble. “You and my daughters, it is enough, I know… Baela and Rhaena, they are my heart. And you, Vhagar, are my soul.” It was the one thing Laena was always certain of. 

Laena felt the puffs of air hit the top of her head as Vhagar snuffed her. The she-dragon lightly nudged the back of her head with her chin, purring. Her contentment was clear, and she was always a vocal creature when expressing any emotion. Laena loved that about her.

“I know Aemond made you happy, at least for a time. For that I am grateful,” she admitted, “but I am here now. I won’t leave you alone again. We will grow older together, I swear. And my children will have a better life for it.”

For the second time that night, Laena cried. What she wanted to say was said, and now she could finally mourn the life she lost without being ashamed of it.

Daemon only slept an hour through the night.

Laena slept no better.

She was nervous to see her mother and father again. She saw them differently now. She loved them, but she could no longer look past the way they used her.

She was their daughter, not a pawn for a king or a Sealord's son or a second son.

They were not much better when it came to Laenor.

Yet, Laena was a woman. She had no value but that of making heirs. Her father certainly saw it that way.

She thought of her parents the entire day, while actively avoiding Daemon.

Baela and Rhaena had an abundance of questions to ask her about last night, but Laena could only offer them half-truths. As much anger as she held for Daemon, it would not be right for her to use that in order to change her daughters’ views of him as well. 

She wanted them to make their own decisions. Let Daemon prove himself to be the fraud he is.

Laena dressed them in their riding clothes and tied their hair up.

“My lady,” Elise said from behind her. Laena stood from her crouched position in front of Rhaena and faced her lady maid. “Prince Daemon is waiting for you near the sally port.”

She sighed. “Another attempt to keep us here, I’d wager.”

“I could not say, my lady,” Elise offered her a small, sympathetic smile.

“I don’t understand why he won’t just come with us,” Baela pouted. She had spoken with Daemon earlier in the day and it had not gone well. Laena didn’t know the exact details, but her daughter told her that Daemon was unrelenting in his insistence that he stay in Pentos.

“I wish I knew, sweet girl,” Laena hummed. 

Mayhaps he became traumatized by the war as he seemed to suggest. Mayhaps Pentos was a balm for him.

It didn’t matter.

Laena had to put herself first now, whether that was selfish of her or not. 

“What I don’t know is why we waited until it was night to leave,” Rhaena added. She was tired and cranky. 

“That was always the plan,” Baela said haughtily.

Laena felt some of her anxiety dissipate. “Alright, no fighting.” She caressed Rhaena’s pouty face. “I know you’re tired, but it won’t take longer than a day to fly to Driftmark. The raven should arrive by the morning if it hasn’t already. Waiting till now just gives my mother more time to prepare for us.” 

And well, Laena liked to travel by night. It was peaceful.

“I will make sure neither of you will slip out of the saddle,” Laena teased.

A goofy grin spread Baela’s cheeks. 

Rhaena leaned against her. “Vhagar would never let me fall,” she declared sleepily. 

Laena hummed, balancing her weight. 

She looked over at Elise. “Has the ship reached the port yet, Elise?” She had paid much of the coin she had collected for a ship large enough to carry the extra clothes and items her and her daughters would be taking with them. She would have asked her father, but she did not wish to find out if he would answer her request or not.

It was something she feared when she was pregnant with her unborn son. It was why she never asked her mother or father to come rescue her. Perhaps they never would have come. She didn’t know if she could have faced that pain.

But once she stepped foot on Driftmark, she would find her answers.

“Yes, my lady. Your belongings are being loaded as we speak.”

“Wonderful.” Laena had already hung a pack from Vhagar’s saddle with a few items that they needed before the ship would arrive on Driftmark. “You will be riding with the girls and I, won’t you?”

Elise looked at her for a moment, unrealizing that it was her Laena was speaking to. “My lady?” 

Laena raised an eyebrow.

“Me? On Vhagar?” Laena nodded, smiling. “My lady, I- I have never ridden a dragon before.”

“You have been around Vhagar plenty, she likes you.” Elise looked unsure, frightened even. Laena felt a little bad for her. “I need you with me, my friend.” Laena grabbed her hands. “I will make the same promise to you as I made to my daughters, I won’t let you fall.”

Elise looked down at their hands, then her eyes slid to look behind her at her daughters. No doubt Baela and Rhaena were grinning madly at her. They were fond of Elise.

She met Laena’s eyes. “Can the saddle sit four, my lady?”

“Only three, I’m afraid, but I will sit behind all of you, rest assured.”

“Off the saddle? Is that safe, my lady?”

Laena smiled, teasing. “I have done it before. There was even a time when I took the saddle off of Vhagar’s back, and it was heavy,” she chuckled. “I nearly fell off of her doing so.”

Elise looked at her as if she were crazy. She might just be, but she had wanted to know what it was like to fly freely without any restraints.

Daemon had done the same before; as well as her mother.

Laena had seen that beautiful girl, Daenerys, do the same after she brought back dragons into the world. She seemed to take to it quite easily.

Laena touched the top of her girls’ heads and thanked every god that they were there with her. “It’s time to go, hm? You said goodbye to all of your friends, and you can always write to them, of course.”

“I know.” “Yes.” Baela and Rhaena said in unison.

“Alright, come.” Laena let them go first while she and Elise walked behind them, side by side. 

The length to the sally port was not as short as the length to the dining hall, but it wasn’t that much longer.

They only had to walk down a few more halls and there Daemon was, a few feet from the exit.

What a sight his brooding figure was.

Why he thought she wanted to speak to him after last night was simply another quandary she had to ask herself about her former husband.

He always said she could not let things go, but it seemed he was much the same.

When he saw them, he smiled. It was that same slow-growing smile he would give her whenever she appeared in front of him. 

He was good at that, trying to endear her to him with this unbegotten softness.

Baela and Rhaena went over to him and were crushed into a big hug. A reminder of the one he gave them after she died. A small gift of comfort, only to stand there silently thereafter and walk away.

It took everything in her to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Elise, please take Baela and Rhaena outside, I need to speak with my… husband,” she reluctantly spoke the title.

Elise hummed. “Yes, my lady.”

Daemon did not put up a fight when his daughters were swept away. Baela looked back at Laena, a hint of pleading in her eyes, before she was taken outside.

Baela hoped Laena would be able to convince Daemon to come with them.

No, Laena didn’t want him to come, but if it made her daughters happy, she would try.

“Have you been out to see Caraxes at all?” She asked, pushing herself to make conversation.

He smirked. “Oh, aye. He was quite irritable. He’s been keeping his distance from Vhagar.”

Baelon, Daemon’s father, rode Vhagar before her. Aemon, Laena’s grandfather, rode Caraxes before Daemon. They were brothers, close and fierce in their devotion. 

Baelon and Aemon rode their dragons together which built a different type of bond between the beings. 

It was true that Caraxes was not known to be docile, but he was more friendly to Vhagar than Vhagar was to him. 

Before Laena died, one could even say the two dragons were close.

Laena’s beloved was a lonesome creature. She liked her solitude, just not for it to last forever. It was why Vhagar called out to her when she was a girl. Vhagar wanted a companion. A rider.

“Is that so? How queer.” Laena looked away from him to focus on putting her riding gloves on. 

“Yes, quite abnormal,” he mocked her. Laena looked up, his eyes bored into hers. “Vhagar was never the fondest of me, but now, if I even try to get close to her, she makes it clear that it would be the last thing I do.” 

“She’s protective of me,” Laena excused.

“Aye,” he said. “I thought that she might just be mirroring the anger you so strongly have for me, but then I wondered… ‘what if she remembers the Gods Eye?’”

Laena was not surprised. If she had thought of that, she figured Daemon would not be far behind. 

“Well, if we remember, why can’t our dragons?” Laena asked. 

“It seems that we are the only ones that remember,” Daemon reiterated. “Baela and Rhaena seem to have no clue. Nor Reggio or…”

“Your beloved squire?” Laena snorted. 

“You make it out to be more than it was,” Daemon remarked. “I haven’t seen him at all since we woke, if that pleases you.” A mocking tilt to his voice. “Laena, I have only ever truly wanted you.”

She had no response to his folly. 

He would practically flaunt the man before her. During dinners and times of leisure, she would not be surprised to find the two of them together; chatting or touching. Daemon never cared to spare her from their companionship in public, if anything, he relished in it. 

He would trail his fingers down the man’s arm, whisper something filthy in his ear.

And if she happened to come upon them or simply be there, there was no shame from either of them. No care shown for her and the embarrassment she felt, knowing her husband was unfaithful. 

There were a few times she could remember forgoing their bed chamber because of that insult, only for Daemon to come to her the next morning and be so sweet to her. He would kiss her shoulders and her neck. Tell her how he couldn’t sleep without her by his side.

He hardly slept when she was by his side.

If she ever dared to be as comfortable with another man as he was, he would be furious. 

Daemon once killed a man who dared to ask if he was inclined to ‘share her.’ A crude question she could admit, but Daemon cut the man’s head clean off his shoulders in answer. 

Laena could still remember how warm his blood was when it hit her face.

The day he found her and Thalia in bed, she feared he would do the same thing to her lover as he did to that man. He ran her off instead.

Daemon could have his fun, but not her.

“I just need to know if you will come with us to driftmark. Baela wants you to go.”

“And you don’t.”

“I want what my children want. As long as they’re happy, I will be too.”

“They are happy,” Daemon said. “They like Pentos.”

Not always. Sometimes Rhaena felt like a failure to you. Sometimes the fact that she didn’t have a dragon would weigh on her because she thought that was why you ignored her. It didn’t matter what I did, nor what I said. A father’s love was craved, I would know. 

Even Baela began to resent her father later in life. Even if it was miniscule. ‘Sometimes I think I hate him.’ Sometimes she would want to throttle him. Laena knew that fury well.

“And do you want to know why that is?.. It’s because I made sure that they were loved and good and lacked for nothing! I did that, all while you shoved your head into books, fawning over dragonlords, and how you were slighted by your brother. But when you waltzed in, they would be so happy to see you, none of it mattered.” If she was a little bitter about that, so be it. 

“What is it you want to hear, Laena?” He hissed back. “That I regret it? That I should have been there more? You haven’t been shy so far, so if there is an offense you want to accuse me of, simply say it!”

“I have said plenty! Only a fool would not be able to piece it all together, and you are many things, Daemon, but you are no fool.”

She was being generous. There were times she thought of him as the biggest fool she knew. Even so, it wasn’t entirely a lie. It was the nicest thing she could stand to say to him.

To her surprise, he grabbed her hand, and she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t say why. “I will be better, Laena. For you, for our daughters.”

Oh yes, sweet like honey, he was. A familiar tune. Sweet words. Sweeter promises.

One time, she had been pleading with him for their family to go back to Westeros permanently. Baela was six, Rhaena was four. She wanted them to know their family better. The scarce and short visits to driftmark were not enough and there was no true reason why they could not stay there, regardless.

Daemon’s reluctance was infuriating and she became frustrated, causing their discussion to become heated. Daemon ended up exploding, getting in her face, warning her to quit her whining or he would shut her up himself. 

It was the first time Laena had truly felt fearful of him. She had burst into uncontrollable tears. 

And oh, that surely surprised Daemon. She never thought she could see him look so guilty, nor would she ever again. She had tried to stifle her emotions, but it was no use. 

It was like her husband had morphed into another man, one who was soft and kind. He knelt in front of her and stuffed his head into her belly, muffling apologies into her skin. It shocked her. Her tears were forgotten and her fear was replaced by confusion. 

She didn’t know what she should have done at that moment. Her body worked on impulse while her mind tried to understand what was happening. 

Her fingers curled into his hair and she just… played with it, as if he were one of her babes. 

Through it all, her face was set like stone. 

He apologized and swore he would never do it again.

She should have left him. She wanted to, oh how she wanted.

And yet…

She forgave him. 

She loved him. 

What else could she have done?

“Is Pentos the only place you can do that?” She stretched herself thin for him, it felt. “Come with us,” she squeezed his hand, “to Driftmark.” 

She didn’t want him to come, but was that entirely true?

He shook his head. “It is easier here,” Daemon whispered.

“You want to live in the past,” Laena realized. She dropped his hand. “ ...You have your regrets, and I have my regrets,” she said. “Staying here… I cannot make that same mistake again.” Even to her own ears, her words sounded remorseful. “Not even for the love I still hold for you.”

They stared back at each other, their eyes shifting from one to the other.

Ever so softly, Daemon reached out and held her close. 

For the first time in years, he pressed his lips against hers. Her fingertips lightly grazed his arms.

“Stay,” he breathed, continuing to cage her in while her own arms fell to her sides. 

“I won’t.” Laena studied him. His eyes. His nose. His lips. “This is what you do, Daemon. You can act so sweet, but you will always resort back to who you are,” her words came out slow and concise, no room for argument. “You do not want me, you want control. You want what you cannot have.”

It was easy for her to disentangle herself from his grasp. He didn’t try to fight her on it. 

He looked like she tore out his heart and crushed it beneath her foot. 

His mouth moved as if there was something he wanted to say, but no sound came out.

Nothing but nothing.

“I cannot be who you want me to be,” she said, her voice as low as a whisper, but just as sharp. “I have failed my daughters, I have failed myself. If I stay, I fear I may never leave and I cannot do that again!” She nearly stamped her foot in absolution. “I cannot fail Baela and Rhaena again.”

“You were not a failure. You loved them and they loved you, Laena. I know they missed you every day that passed.”

But how could you know?  She thought. You barely acknowledged them.

Laena held her tongue. There was nothing else for her to say. She was finally going somewhere she was wanted.

She walked past him towards the exit, her head held high.

“Laena,” Daemon began. She was only a hairsbreadth from the outside. “You need me.”

She looked back at him, her body still directed towards the passage. “No,” she answered. “I never needed you.”

Laena didn’t wait for a response. She walked outside and was met with hot air blowing against her face. Vhagar rested near the shoreline, her wing splashing water every so often. A playful gesture.

Baela, Rhaena, and Elise were near the deck, their cloaks billowing in the breeze.

She walked towards them, never looking back.