𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐀 ── house of the dragon

iv | a fair exchange

ACT I — CHAPTER IV
A Fᴀɪʀ Exᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

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Myra had never met Laena Velaryon, but her father had always told her how much she resembled her aunt. Now, in the wake of Laena's death, Laenor looked at her as if she were a ghost.

The news came not long after they had received word of the deaths of Ser Harwin Strong and is father. Jacaerys had taken the news the hardest, and Myra had been doing her best to be there for him. She had taken her brother to the gardens to clear his thoughts when they saw Laenor approaching them.

"Father? Did you need something?" Myra asked.

The moment she spoke, Laenor stopped in his tracks. Myra stood up from where she was sitting with Jace. She slowly started to approach him.

"Is there something wrong?" she pressed.

Laenor took one look at his daughter before bursting into tears. Myra froze — she had never seen her father cry before. She had always prided herself on being able to comfort those she loved, but there, as her father sobbed uncontrollably in front of her, Myra found that she did not know what to do.

•⋅•⋅•

The ship ride to Driftmark was dreadful.

It was too quiet, too sad. The entire time, Laenor stood on the deck, watching the sea pass by underneath them. Myra stood by his side the whole time. Sometimes, Laenor would look down at her, but he couldn't for more than a few moments before bursting into tears.

Myra wasn't sure how to feel about being the spitting image of someone who was dead. Every time Laenor glanced at her, she felt more and more like the ghost he thought she was.

When they reached the shore, they were greeted by Corlys and Rhaenys, each with solemn expressions on their faces. Myra hugged both of them tightly, and they both stared at her for a moment too long. They must have noticed the resemblance as well, she thought.

Laena's family, her husband and two daughters, were tucked away in High Tide, not meeting with anyone before the funeral. Myra had never met them, and she knew little about them. Whenever Daemon, Laena's husband and her grandsire's brother, was brought up, Rhaenyra grew uncomfortably silent or quickly changed the subject.

When they reached High Tide, Myra was delighted to see her grandsire's family already there. It had been weeks since she had seen them, and after a tiresome journey, she was relieved for a bit of normalcy.

"Did you speak of me every day?" Myra asked Aemond as she embraced him.

"Of course. How could I not?" he replied.

She sighed in relief. At least one good thing would come of the day.

Myra had never known anyone who had died, so she had no reason to go to a funeral. She doubted Ser Harwin's funeral would be anything like Laena's.

They stood on the rocky shoreline, watching as ropes were tied around Laena's casket of stone. Myra and her family stood close to it, but Laena's stood even closer. Finally seeing her family left a churning feeling in her stomach. Daemon looked like any other Targaryen, but it was Baela and Rhaena, his daughters, that caused Myra to feel sick. They looked more like her than her own brothers. She watched them intently as they clung to Rhaenys.