HĀROS BARTOSSI | DAEMON T.

[ 𝟎𝟖 ]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

── •✧• ── ⋆⋅༻✦༺⋅⋆ ── •✧• ──

After a few weeks of planning to reclaim the Stepstones, the day had finally come. It was the day when Prince Daemon and the Seasnake's fleet were to sail to battle. The skies rumbled ominously, and thick grey clouds swirled above Driftmark. It was as if the gods themselves sensed the impending conflict and were unsettled by it too. 

"Are you not going to see them off?" Elariel Catell, one of the handmaidens serving the Velaryons, asked the young lady who was standing at the edge of High Tide, watching over the ships lining outside. When silence proceeded, Elariel hesitated and pursed her lips before pressing on. "They might not return until some time, My Lady..."

Maevys's gaze fell on the soldiers and knights who marched aboard their ships after sending their farewells to their families ashore. Her heart was heavy with sadness like those who remained, except there was also a hint of resentment and a flicker of envy. Seasmoke and Caraxes were already nearby, their Dragonriders' absence a silent reminder of what she was being denied. 

The Velaryon Lady clenched her hands to her chest, her fingers tight with the raw emotion threatening to spill over as she gripped onto something. The bubbling discontentment within her mingled with anxiousness, and a bitter cocktail of frustration was crafted. In the last few weeks, she had done everything she could to prove herself to her stepfather and his council, to demonstrate that she was capable of joining the fight with her abilities. But clearly, it was insufficient to convince him otherwise. 

Despite possessing the skills of a warrior and the mind of a tactician, Corlys remained firm in his decision. He had still forbidden her from accompanying the fleet, and though Laenor and Daemon had both been swayed by her conviction, their influence had not been enough to change his mind either. 

Still, Maevys could not bring herself to send them off. The bitterness within her felt dangerous, too volatile. She feared it might even get the best of her, and make her lash out in anger or regret, and that was the last thing she ever wanted. The thought of bidding her father and brother farewell on such a bitter note was unbearable.  

Though she had been sulking for days, a realization finally struck her: if she stayed in her chambers, the last memory she would have of Corlys and Laenor until the war's end would be of their backs turning to her as they walked away. And more than anything, she could not withstand the gnawing thought of remorse if something were to happen to them. 

No one knew what the outcome of the war would be, and the terrifying possibility of their defeat haunted her. The thought of losing them— of them dying on the battlefield— was enough to rattle her mind and send her into a total frenzy.

The Velaryon fleet was the largest and most formidable in the realm, but even that could not guarantee their safety. Anything could happen. And what if it did?

Maevys did not want to have any regrets. While she was still upset, there was still something she needed to say to her family, something that would linger in her heart long after they departed.

Without another word to her handmaiden, she cast aside her disappointment and bolted from her chambers. Her feet pounded on the stone steps as she descended towards the harbour. Her heart raced, as though trying to outrun the suffocating terror clawing at her chest. She barely noticed the startled glances of those she passed, her focus fixed on reaching her father and brother before it was too late. 

"Wait! Wait, please! A moment!" she called out, her voice urgent as Lord Corlys stepped onto the bridge that would lead him to the ships, and Laenor and Daemon to mount their dragons.