Plainly Targaryen

Chapter 3

"The gods can be cruel"

The walls of High Tide echoed with the distant roar of the sea. The storm outside had yet to brew and a steady breeze blew, carrying with it the crisp scent of salt, ever-present on Driftmark. The halls, though grand and lined with torches, felt cold, despite the soft glow of the fire in the hearths. Rhaenyra stood over the cradle where her newborn son, Joffrey, slept soundly. His tiny chest rose and fell with the delicate rhythm of slumber, the worries of the world far from his innocent mind. She gently brushed a lock of silver hair from his brow, her lips curling into a soft smile. Her children gave her all the light and assurance to know all would be perfectly alright.

She had needed this moment of peace, just her and her baby, away from the tension and watchful eyes that now haunted every corner of the funeral gathering. The weight of her role—mother, wife, princess—pressed heavily on her. And yet, she found some solace in Joffrey's fragile warmth, a reminder that life continued, even in the face of death.Rhaenyra sighed, straightening herself as she looked out the window, the view of the endless, dark waters calming her nerves. The sea was vast and relentless, much like the legacy she bore. She adjusted her gown, for a final time and quietly exited the room, leaving the warmth and safety of the nursery behind.

As she made her way toward the terrace, the air grew colder, the stone floors beneath her feet feeling as unforgiving as the looks cast her way throughout the day. Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor as she reached the terrace, the cold wind biting at her exposed skin. The sky above was a swirling mass of clouds, still thick with the potential to turn into something greater. The waves below lightly crashed against the cliffs, the delicate yet rhythmic assault a constant reminder of the unyielding sea.

And then there was Daemon. Always Daemon.

She had felt his eyes on her throughout the day, burning through the back of her head like dragonfire. The years had not dulled the tension between them; if anything, time had sharpened it. She turned away from his gaze, he was no longer worthy of the amount of attention she gave him.

Jace stood over in a docile corner and observed the fleeting looks between his mother and their uncle. He did not approach her, nor did she approach him yet their gaze always wandered back to her like she was the only person in the room. He had noticed how his uncle had eyed his mother with the same purple eyes they shared. With each short-lived look between them, it became harder to convince Jace that his uncle was also his paternal father, his actual father. Rhaenyra had found the quiet corner of the terrace, away from the prying eyes of the lords and ladies where her eldest sheltered for some sense of safety. "Have you seen your father," his mother asked him, it was such a foreign word to hear 'father' being uttered from his mother's mouth about a man they had no direct connection to. Jace wanted to shout 'yes' and point over to Daemon Targaryen who stood slouched against the terrace wall.

His mother's eyes had wandered over to Laena's daughters and in near sight was their father, a Pentoshi commoner. Laena Velaryon's death had shaken them all, especially the young girls. A woman who had ridden the largest dragon in the world, only to be felled by the cruel complications of childbirth. "Your little cousins have lost their mother," she began again as she stroked his hair, "they could use a kind word."

"I have an equal claim to sympathy," Jace retaliated, the loss of Ser Harwin Strong shook Jace the most, he adored Harwin as much as he did Daemon; his claim was viable to mourn a man he once admired and to have discovered the reality of his parentage. Rhaenyra had sometimes thought that he wished for Harwin to be his father rather than the others. She scolded him, scouring her surroundings, the implications of this could further amplify the rumours of their relationship. His mother had explained to him that the "Velaryons are of their kin," if that was true Jace thought, why do we bear your name? He never told his mother any of his speculations, it was safer in his mind and the peace kept them happy.

Jace had trudged over to Rhaena and Baela; he stood with them. It was a period of awkward yet comfortable silence between them before Baela reached for Jace's hand soothing them both. He saw as their grandmother walked over to them, she gave Jace the grandmotherly look for him to excuse him politely. His grandmother had always been a reserved woman, this was the first time she expressed an emotion known as sadness and grief. She would always be joyful when visiting Luke and him and the Red Keep.

Towards the perimeter of the terrace stood Corlys Velaryon, accompanied by his grandson, Lucerys Targaryen. "Both my seat and High Tide will be your one-day Lucerys." The young boy had lifted his head away from his toy horse. "Your brother will be King, of course. He'll sit on endless councils and ceremonies but the Lord of the Tides rules the sea." It was a great honour to be given to the young boy, he should be even greater than me Corlys had thought. Since the day Rhaenyra gave Driftmark its heir, Corlys never refrained from showing up unannounced to the Red Keep to spend more time with his grandchildren after a while they grew a greater mark on Rhaenys, his wife loved the boys more than she did him he sometimes joked although she never denied it. "Sorry. I don't want it," his grandson replied, slightly startling him with his response. "It's your birthright, lad," Corlys stated as he crouched down to reach Luke's height. Luke shook away his touch, "If I'm the Lord of Driftmark, it means everyone's dead." Corlys' heart yearned to soothe him, the boy was wise for his age and his realisation was true.

Daemon had lifted his head from his thought and briefly glanced at his niece, she was also looking back at him with the same curiosity. She let out a small smirk, it left him smiling for the first time since he had arrived on Driftmark.

His brother had finally approached him, assumedly to offer condolences. "The gods can be cruel," he stated, it was true, he had been deprived of the girl he wanted and the opportunity to have a family with her all because his brother cared for his reputation. "It seems they've been especially cruel to you," Viserys chuckled at the remark.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Rhaenyra moving around the crowds, she was alluring it was as if she was stalking her prey, a true dragon.

"You should return to King's Landing, it is time you returned home." Daemon knew the offer held all the best intentions but he refused to go where they didn't want him - on certain occasions. "Runestone is my new home, you made sure of that." "Daemon, I know we've had our differences but let them pass with the years. There's a place for you in my court if that's something you should need."

"I need... nothing." He stated firmly, almost angered by the offer. Daemon walked away from Viserys' plea for forgiveness and the mourning crowd. He stopped to confront Otto Hightower - it seemed that the hate for the Hand grew with the distance set between them.

"Go to bed." Rhaenyra sternly said when she approached her children. "But, Mother..." Jace protested. "Go to bed." She stated for the final time before leaving them to find and face Daemon.

The Queen Alicent watched as her stepdaughter followed her uncle just like the old times. She heeded what Viserys had told her "Daemon and Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, they are restless as they are chaotic." Their reunion today would only solidify Viserys statement.

Notes 

The funeral wake scene has so many moment to depict and interpret. Next chapter is strictly Daemyra