House of Targaryen

XIV

At The Edge of Seas

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The world seemed to shatter with the news that Aegon had been crowned. The realm, already fragile, now threatened to break apart entirely.

Those in King's Landing had chosen a side, their banners titled "The Greens."

Rhaenyra decided to fortify Dragonstone, making it our stronghold, and the seat of her rising power. Aside from that, her volitions stood unpredictable.

The castle at Driftmark buzzed with frantic preparation. Servants scurried through the halls, packing trunks, securing provisions, and readying for the imminent departure to Dragonstone.

I moved with purpose through my chambers, directing handmaidens as they carefully packed my belongings. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but my mind was a storm of thoughts. I had always known this moment might come, but the reality of it was much harder to bear.

My thoughts were interrupted by the creaking door. The sound of a voice broke the silent chaos with a command that was clear.

"Leave us."

Daemon spoke, his tone brooked no room for argument, his words were filled with indignation.

With a sigh I turned toward him and took a seat on the bed, fighting an uneasy expression. The door clicked shut behind them, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

He was upset, though he hadn't yet spoken a word to me. I could feel it in the way he moved, in the way his eyes darkened as they met mine.

"Daemon," I started, but my voice faltered. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to bridge the distance between us.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he moved with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart began to pound in my chest, as he pulled out a letter.

My letter.

The one I had written to Irri and sent to King's Landing. My breath caught in my throat as he held it up between us. The look on his face was one of restrained fury, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes stormy.

"What do you hope for, Lenora? To talk your way out of this war?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"This war is not amongst lords, our foes are family. We needn't-" I reached for the letter, but he forced me back down on the bed.

He stepped closer, pinning my wrist down slowly, and firmly. "Do not be weakened by your opinions of heart. They will spare no bloodshed,"

"There will be no mercy." he whispered, his tone graced with concern, frustration, and lust.

In an attempted defense, I retorted. "My brothers..." I paused, "Aegon has never sought out the throne."

He caught my hesitation, he knew what I spoke of in the letter. Who I spoke of.

Daemon drew closer to my face, taunting me. "And can you account for his regent, Aemond?"

The question was met with a prolonged silence, I knew Aemond's ambition. It was almost parasitic.

His gaze flickered between my face and the bottom of my dress, the flames cast an intimate glow across his features.

"In times of war.. favors will be forgotten,"
His hand moved to the hem of my dress, drawing it back as his fingers traced my thigh.