Dance of The Dragonwolf

I Wish We Had More Time

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Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter  56, Chapter 57,  Chapter 58,  Chapter 59, Chapter 60, Chapter 61, Chapter 62, Chapter 63, Chapter 64,  Chapter 65, Chapter 66, Chapter 67, Chapter 68, Chapter 69, Chapter  70, and Chapter 71 are already available for Patrons.

The windswept fiercely over the rocky platform of High Tide, carrying with it the salt of the Narrow Sea and the mournful roars of dragons echoing from the sky above. The sun was setting, turning the sky red and orange. The entire royal family stood gathered on the ancient stone, their faces drawn with sorrow as they prepared to say goodbye to Laenor Velaryon.

Laenor's body lay at the edge of the platform, wrapped in a simple white sheet, his form placed carefully inside a wooden coffin that would soon be given to the sea, and inside was also an urn where some of Seasmoke's ash was kept inside. The tradition of House Velaryon was as old as the tides themselves—death did not mean burial but a return to the depths from which their ancestors once came. His coffin stood poised at the brink, ready to be taken by the waves.

Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, stood at the head of the gathering, his face like stone, though his grief was unmistakable. His eyes were red; his jaw clenched as he stared at the coffin of his only son. Rhaenys Targaryen stood beside him, her hand trembling slightly, though her expression was hard as steel. Her eyes, however, were red like the sky above them. Laena Velaryon, their daughter, was beside her mother, pale and silent, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Vaemond and his sons had gathered as well to say goodbye to Laenor, they stood behind Corlys and Rhaenys.

Besides the Velaryon family stood the royal family—King Viserys Targaryen, dressed in black robes, his face weary and pale; Queen Alicent, her expression a little bored; Princess Rhaenyra, her face was gaunt with sorrow, though her eyes held a quiet strength. And there, further back, was Alysanne Targaryen, standing beside her kin, her gaze distant as she watched the waves.

Daemon Targaryen stood a little further apart from Viserys, with Aenar standing beside them. Their faces were stone, and they showed almost no emotions, but one could see the redness in Aenar's eyes. Daemon could see the grief in his son's eyes, so he put his arm around him, hoping it would make him feel better.

The platform felt cold beneath their feet, the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below almost drowning out the occasional sob from the gathered household. Dragons circled above, their low, mournful cries filling the sky as if they, too, felt the loss of one of their own. Meleys, Rhaenys's dragon, hovered close to the platform, her great wings beating rhythmically as she let out a deep, sorrowful roar. Vhagar, whom Laena had recently claimed, stayed further away. Even Syrax and Caraxes, Rhaenyra and Daemon's dragons circled the island in grief. Cannibal was the only one not circling the island and not grieving; he was the only dragon who seemed not to be touched by Seasmoke's death.

King Viserys stepped forward, his expression grave as he looked upon Laenor's coffin.

"Laenor Velaryon," he began, "was a son of the sea, a rider of dragons, and a man of great courage. He was born into the proud blood of Valyria, of House Velaryon, and the legacy of Old Valyria flowed strong in his veins. He was a warrior in every sense, both on the sea and in the sky, and his spirit will be remembered as long as the waves crash upon these shores."

Viserys paused, his eyes glistening as he turned to Corlys and Rhaenys. "To you, Corlys, Rhaenys... I am sorry. No father should bury his son. No mother should lose her child. The grief you carry now, I cannot imagine, but know that Laenor will live on in the songs, in the history of our houses, and the legacy of his name."