The Bronze Dragon-A House of the Dragon fanfic

Chapter 3

My father and the rest of King's Landing were informed of Lady Laena's death not long after. It was decreed that she would be taken to Driftmark and given the full Velaryon funeral rites; her body committed to the sea.

It was also the first time my father and grandfather had laid eyes on each other for ten years, and it was not a reunion that would be a happy one. Though, it must be said, that is not what this funeral is known for. Today, this funeral is known for being one of the causes of the Dance.

It was the night my uncle lost his eye.

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It was a solemn affair. Everyone was wearing some sort of dark clothing to mourn the loss of Laena Velaryon. Rhaenys wore a black veil over her face. At the very least, she had taken comfort in her daughter meeting a dragon rider's end, to hear Daemon and their daughters, Baela and Rhaena, say it.

The Rogue Prince himself had been greatly saddened by Laena's death. He had tried to see if there was any way of being able to rescue her during the childbirth, but there hadn't been. He realised what a sadistic choice his brother had faced during the birth of his son Baelon all those years ago now; if he had been in Viserys' position, he honestly could not say he would've done the opposite of him. His eyes, scanning the crowd for potential threats, landed on the same woman who had denied him all those years ago. Jeyne Arryn. She was two-and-thirty now, and carried herself with the air one would expect of the Lady Paramount of the Vale. She had endured an uprising from her kinsman, Arnold Arryn, in that time, and had put it down with much effort. She could only be here as sending a statement towards him, that much he knew. The bitch was bold, he had to give her that much. Standing not too far from her, was his estranged son, Daevar.

He wasn't like the spindly little boy that Daemon had imagined. He was actually rather strongly built, with a fit frame and Lamentation at his hip. Daemon was struggling to maintain his decorum at the sight of Daevar bedecked in the bronze cuirass of the Royces, and the fact that he had seemingly appropriated as much of the imagery of his mother's house as possible.

Daevar for his part was trying to translate what was being said by Ser Vaemond, who was eulogising his niece. Daevar wasn't completely daft when it came to Valyrian, but he knew only a mere handful of phrases when it came down to it. After a while he simply gave up trying to translate what was being said and settled for standing peacefully. Helaena was at his side; she had stood close to him when he had walked up. Maybe it was the sense of security or something, he wasn't quite certain.

His train of thought was broken by... laughter? He turned his head in the direction of his father to see him laughing freely. At his own wife's funeral. Daevar scowled. Clearly, his father had no real concept of what it meant to grieve. After all, it was Daevar's mother that he had murdered all those years ago; the man really did simply believe he could do what he pleased without facing the consequences.

Eventually, Laena Velaryon's sarcophagus was lowered into the ocean, farewelled to the sea in the traditions of her house, and the various parties made their way elsewhere for the wake.

The first people Daevar approached were the Lord of the Tides, Corlys Velaryon, and his wife Rhaenys. The latter gave Daevar a small, sad smile as he approached them. "My Lord. My Lady." Daevar bowed to both of them. "I am deeply sorry for your loss... I did not know Lady Laena well, but I would've liked to." Daevar felt awkward with this; he had never actually known what Laena was like. Corlys and Rhaenys smiled, however.

"Thank you, Lord Daevar." Corlys said. "I am certain that Laena had a wish to meet you as well."

"As do I." Rhaenys added. "You have grown much since I last saw you, Lord Daevar. You were that bronze rather well."