The Dragon-Tamer

19

Driftmark was a beautiful place. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks brought forth a cool breeze. The sky was cloudy and gloomy, matching the mood of the day.

It's been years since Feyre's worn a black dress. The last time had been the late Queen Aemma's funeral, and Feyre never wanted to wear black to mourn someone she loved ever again.

She physically could not cry any more; she had spent most of the boat ride sobbing. Feyre never expected to visit Driftmark under these circumstances. It was only a week ago that Laena was alive and well, ready to welcome her third child. Laena was too young, too good for this world. It broke Feyre's heart to think of Baela and Rhaena having to live without their mother.

They had prepared a coffin for Laena's remains. It was carved to match her likeness, but it did Laena no justice. Rope was being looped around it, ready for the guards to pull when they release her to the sea.

"We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon," Leana's uncle, Ser Vaemond Velaryon, was delivering the funeral service, "To the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King, where he will guard her for all days to come."

Feyre listened to the man speak, her arms wrapped around her daughter. Aemma buried her face in her mother's side, trying to drown out the noise. The girl had not really known death; she didn't know how it felt to lose someone. Aemma loved her Aunt Laena. She remembered how she and Uncle Daemon would visit, doting on her and spoiling her with souvenirs from their travels. Aemma remembered how Baela and Rhaena would let her sleepover in their quarters when her mother was busy with counsel meetings, and Laena would tell them stories to get them to sleep. It felt off without Laena; Aemma couldn't feel or hear her anymore.

Aemma looked up at her mother's stoic face. She glanced around to see everyone with the same sad look on their face, especially her Uncle Laenor. Aemma reached her hand out and took the crying man's hand. Laenor sniffed and looked down at the little girl, sparing her a small smile as he gently squeezed it back.

Vaemond looks at his little nieces, "The Lady Laena leaves behind two true-born daughters on the shore."

Feyre glanced across the way to see Baela crying in Rhaenys' arms, while Rhaena was being comforted by Daemon, "Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood."

Daemon looked down at his daughter, rubbing her back as she cried. He knew that many people in House Velaryon blamed him for Laena's death; they thought that he did not care for his wife. They were wrong. Though their marriage was a political alliance, that didn't mean that Daemon did not love Laena. After all, she gifted him with the best things in the world: his daughters. Daemon felt eyes on him and glanced up to see Feyre standing across the way, looking at him with grief. Laena meant a great deal to both of them.

"Salt courses through Velaryon blood," A certain poison laced Vaemond's tone, capturing Feyre's attention. She looked at the man, only to see him glaring at Rhaenyra and the boys.

"Ours run thick," Rhaenyra felt very uncomfortable and pulled her sons closer to her, "Ours runs true, and ours must never thin."

Feyre glared at the man as she noticed her lover's discomfort. She knew many knew of Jace's and Luke's parentage, especially seeing how Laena's children came out, but this was a funeral. Could we not save the family drama for one day?

As if sensing all the tension, Daemon let out a laugh, bringing everyone's attention to him. Feyre gave him a thankful smile, lucky that eyes turned away from the boys.