𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺,
𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍
" Wed her to me. "
" What? "
" When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Daenera. I want to love her the way she loves me - the way we've alw...
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TIME HAD PASSED MERELY SIX YEARS SINCE THE TARGARYEN SISTERS last saw their king-father. Complaints were not made, in the lack of their appearances in King's Landing. It was not being that the sister's did not wish to visit their sibling's and father — it was the unpleasant notion of being graced with the Queen's presence.
Daenera was in her calmest when away from King's Landing, it seemed. She didn't have to be bothered with the unwanted political meetings of the Small Council. She was left with her husband and children, that being the only thing she needed.
"Chin up, Aeven!" Daenera shouted to her daughter, as Aennika soured throughout the clouds of Dragonstone on Vermithrax. Daenera stood angsty on the terrace that connected to her and Daemon's chambers, overlooking the peaks of Dragonstone. "Seven hells." She muttered, shaking her head in worry as Vermithrax released a roar into the sky, muffling the laughter of Aeven.
"Vermithrax is looking well." Rhaenyra stepped aside Daenera, the sister glancing to her younger twin silently.
"I wish I could say the same for myself." Daenera mumbled, referring to the sickening feeling she felt. A mother's curse, she thought.
"A letter came from Baela." Rhaenyra mentioned, gently sliding the scroll forward. Daenera took the small item out of Rhaenyra's grip, unraveling the silk ribbon note.
"Fuck." Daenera whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Vaemond Velaryon is in question of your sons' legitimacy." Daenera gave Rhaenyra a wary expression.
Rhaenyra in haste, swiped the scroll from Daenera's grasp — hesitantly reading the messaged letters. "He means to call into question Luke's legitimacy?" Rhaenyra huffs; aggravated. "And by extension Jace and Haerax and by extension my sons' own claim to the Driftwood Throne."
"I am sure that all Vaemond Velaryon cares about is Driftmark and his title. He's trying to ignite a riot out of the lot of us." Daenera mumbled, leaning against the constructed fencing.
"With Rhaenys flying to court — I will not be shocked if she's on his side. She is still in belief we killed her son for I and Benton to marry." Rhaenyra worriedly glanced around.
"Yes, she may be in the belief of that, but Rhaenys is a smart woman who loves Driftmark. She is not foolish, Rhaenyra. She won't give up that Throne unless it was to Baelea or Rhaena." Daenera paused, peering across the ocean of Dragonstone — easing a sigh out of her lips. "You know the means of this, correct?"
"What other choice do we have?"
"None." Daenera let out an uneasy chuckle. "Off to King's Landing, sister." Daenera leaned to Rhaenyra. "I am sure Aeven will not complain."
"Still writing those letters, I presume?" Rhaenyra quirked her brow, joining Daenera in the leaning against the stone.
"I am the one who hand delivers those tainted letters." Daenera consumes the salted air, unnoticeably chewing at the skin of her lips. "I am in worry of what is to come if we go back. Not only for us — but my daughter." Daenera gazed to Rhaenyra. "She has not been in contact with Aemond since our last time with our kin — he was her best friend, Nyra. I do not blame either of them for what had happened that night — but cannot deny I am worried for their reunion, as well as ours."
