Ruin Me

Chapter Twenty Five

Rhaenyra was far from term. Her babe had been far too young to survive in this world. And not only was she without her husband, but now, her daughter who had been part of him, was gone as well.

Daemon was distraught, to say the least. He'd walked in to check on his wife and Rhaenyra to see the woman cradling her lifeless babe. Daenyra had been frozen in complete shock. Not just for her sister and niece, but in memory of her mother and brother as well. 

After he had ensured the loyalty of the two Kingsguard soldiers that protected them, the grief seemed to hit him like a tidal wave. His brother, his late lady wife and own unborn daughter whom he still had never properly mourned. He had thrown himself into wedding Daenyra before he had even had time to mourn his child.

And even after all this time, nothing had changed. Daemon and Daenyra still retreated to the same place to find peace, to say goodbye.

Daemon's sword struck through the sand as Dark Sister stood tall, and he began to walk towards the sea. It lapped at his boots as he stepped into the shallows before he collapsed to his knees. The water was cold, and the smell of salt stung his nose, but there was no smell that could shake him from the pain that ate away at him.

His brother. His big brother. The only remnants of family that he had left. His mother, his father, his brother, all gone. He was the last one left standing.

The ocean did not ease his pain. Nothing seemed to make the pain start either. No tears fell and no agony came from his mouth. It just – It was all just stuck inside him. All the pain, all the emotions, nothing seemed to move, nothing seemed to end. All of it just seemed to build and build. It was blinding. It was incapacitating. His head throbbed and his eyes were foggy, and he couldn't take it anymore.

Daemon let loose a scream. It was a roar. It was a yell. It was a scream of agony and anger. Daemon yelled at the waves, he screamed at the ocean. He yelled at the gods and the universe who would seek to see him suffer as he had.

And when his throat was sore and his breath all used up, his hands fisted the wet sand beneath him, uncaring of the water that was soaking him.

He could hear the footsteps over the crash of the waves on the shore, the sound of feet kicking at the water. The black of her dress seemed darker as it was soaked with seawater and Daenyra dropped to her knees beside him.

"For two such as us whom are born of fire and blood, we seem to have a penchant for turning to salt and sea for comfort in times of grief."

Daemon didn't say anything. Daenyra didn't even know how she found the strength to speak either.

Their breaths moved in time with the waves.

"Daemon, I know that your pain is paramount to mine, but we live in a time where we cannot let our pain cloud our judgment," she said, despite the traitorous tears that slid down her face silently. "To speak plainly, I don't give a fuck about the Iron Throne. I merely want a world where I do not have to fear for the lives of our children. We can survive this. We have survived the deaths of our parents, but I will not survive attending a funeral for our children. Vaelon, Baela, Rhaena, Alyssa or Aemma. We do not fight this war for ourselves or even for Rhaenyra. We fight for them. The only pain they shall ever know is that of losing a parent because they will outlive us."

Daemon knew that she was right as he let his head fall to the side. He buried his face in the neck of his wife as he hugged her dearly, letting her tears wet his hair.

"VIserys wanted peace. So, I will refrain from even trying to imagine what he might have said about our current predicament. However, your mother would not have wanted her Rogue Prince to be crying on a beach somewhere. She would want him to burn down all those who would harm his family. I may love you, but I know full well that it does not hold a candle to the way a mother feels about her son. So what would your mother tell you to do as of now, Daemon?"

He didn't need to answer her question. He had always been very good at feeding her the answers to questions without even truly speaking the answers. His silence was answer enough. His mother would have told him to do as she had. Alyssa Targaryen would have burned the world alive for her sons and slept like a babe as the ashes rained down. And so would her favourite son. But not just yet. That he told Daenyra in the way he held her closer, the tip of his nose brushing her neck as the waves pushed at them but would never be able to move them; together they were stable; together they were powerful enough to overcome the seas, to over come anything that might try to knock them down.

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The smell of woodsmoke wafted through the air as they all stood near the Dragonmont before yet another funeral pyre. Rhaenyra had wrapped her pre-born daughter herself. And now, she stood before Visenya and watched the little girl's body be eaten by the flames of Syrax.

And just like their mother's funeral, Daenyra had stood at her twin's side, giving her strength when she seemed to have none. It was only with Daenyra's hand in hers that she was able to give the command that let her daughter finally pass and rest in peace.

It killed Daenyra inside to not be standing with her husband or her children, but she took solace in the fact that they stood together, even little Alyssa and Aemma, one holding Baela's hand and the other Vaelon's whilst Rhaena held their free hands.

Rhaenyra had barely moved from before the funeral pyre as she stared at the flames. Perhaps this was punishment for what she'd said about her father at her mother's funeral. Son or not, the pain of losing a child... was an indescribable agony. It was misery. It was worse than any torture that could be inflicted. Losing a child was any parent's worst nightmare, and Rhaenyra's had just come true.

"Protect the children!" Daemon screeched through the silence and Daenyra whirled as the sound of swords being pulled from their sheaths filled the air. Daemon had a grip on Dark Sister as a small group of guards surrounded his children and Rhaenyra's. Then Daenyra saw why. They had a visitor. One who wore a white cloak.

The Knight of the Kingsguard walked through the crowd as his kinsmen drew their swords to prevent him from getting any closer to Rhaenyra, Daenyra or Daemon. How Daemon had even seen this man coming was beyond them, but then again, he hadn't wanted to come to this funeral in the first place. His only care was for his wife and children and what a good thing it wasotherwise he never would've heard the sound of the man's approaching footsteps.

"I mean no harm, brothers," the knight promised before he removed his helm. Ser Erryk, the twin brother to Ser Arryk, and a legendary swordsman among the White Cloaks.

Daemon nodded at the two men who sheathed their swords as they let Ser Erryk pass and the knight dropped onto one knee before his prince. Daemon's grip on Dark Sister tightened, but released just as quickly when he saw hints of gold and silver inside Ser Erryk's satchel.

It was his brother's crown. The crown of King Viserys, the First, Viserys, the Peaceful, was a well-known object, one that many thought was to be burned with the king. Yet, here Ser Erryk was presenting it to the twins upon bended knee.

"I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers," he swore as he held the crown up before them. "I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honour."

Daemon held the crown now, his lips parted. It was the only indication he gave of how truly gobsmacked and grief-stricken he was as he ran his thumb over the Targaryen crest. Then he turned to the twins.

Daenyra let go of Rhaenyra's hand as Daemon approached them. Rhaenyra didn't move still as Daemon placed it upon her head.

It was Daenyra's eyes that she met first as she was crowned and Daenyra that she watched as her mirror image dropped onto a single knee. "Your Grace," she spoke, truthfully, factually, for the first time in history.

Daemon was next to follow. "My Queen."

One by one, the others dropped onto their own knees, a show of unity and a symbol of fealty to their rightful queen. Rhaenys was the only one left standing as she watched her granddaughters bow to the Targaryen queen.

Daenyra lifted up her head and gazed at her sister who seemed expressionless against the crowd of people who were kneeling to her, who would give their lives for her. 

To war, they would go.