Laenor POV
Laenor walked across the rocky terrain, making his way to the place the Red Queen had claimed as her domain—alone. For moons, this den had been hers, but in the last month, two uninvited guests had also laid claim to it.
Humming a soft tune, he approached the cave at the base of a small mountain, where Meleys lay watching over two hatchlings as they played around her massive frame. The land surrounding her was a stark contrast—burned and blackened near her resting place, yet further out, a surprising change had taken root. Plants, which had never grown in this barren landscape before, now stretched up to his knees, an unusual sight that had only appeared in the past moon.
It was Embaryx who noticed him first—or perhaps he sensed his presence. Laenor wasn't sure. But the moment his yet-to-be-mounted dragon spotted him, the young beast surged forward, bounding on his hind legs with the support of his forelimbs. Veltharys followed at a slower, more measured pace.
A smile tugged at Laenor's lips as he bent down, running his hand along Embaryx's slightly elongated neck. A deep, satisfied purr rumbled from the dragon's throat as he closed his reptilian eyes in pleasure. Through the faint bond they shared, Laenor could feel Embaryx's joy, and the warmth of it doubled his own.
Not to be outdone, Veltharys moved closer, positioning herself beside him, demanding his attention. With a quiet chuckle, Laenor obliged, scratching the rough scales of his other dragon. The moment stretched, filled with the soothing rhythm of his hands over their warm hides, the comforting sound of their contented rumblings.
After a few moments, he straightened, his gaze shifting to Meleys. The Red Queen watched them with wide, unblinking eyes. He did not approach her—not out of fear, but out of respect. She would not welcome his touch in his mother's absence.
"I'll be leaving today," Laenor spoke in Valyrian, his voice calm yet firm. "I'll return as soon as I can. Until then, behave—both of you."
They couldn't fully understand his words, but they grasped his meaning well enough. Embaryx let out a soft whimper, pressing closer, and Laenor could feel the flicker of sadness through their bond. Veltharys' gaze shifted toward the keep, searching for Laena, as if hoping she would come instead.
If he lingered any longer, Embaryx would never let him leave easily. With one last affectionate stroke along their scales, Laenor turned and walked away, ignoring the sorrowful cries that followed him.
{Line Break}
Laenor closed his eyes, focusing his hydrokinesis to accelerate their journey as much as possible. He remained mindful of his energy expenditure—it wouldn't do to collapse on the ship and cause his father needless worry. When he opened his eyes, he found the Velaryon men in their colors and armor glancing around the ship in wide-eyed wonder. He knew the reason well enough. The winds were already in their favor today, but combined with what he was doing, the ship's speed was nothing short of incredible.
Moving toward the stern, where his father and uncle were deep in conversation, Laenor caught the tail end of his father's words.
"I do not know what it is, Vaemond," Corlys said, his voice laced with amazement. "In all my years, in all my voyages across the seas, I have never seen anything like this."
Vaemond, standing beside him, peered down at the water, his expression unreadable. "It can only be the work of higher powers—or something else meddling in our journey," he mused. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the waves as he continued, "Look below, brother. The natural flow of the water moves northwest, yet the currents around our ship are flowing differently. There is no resistance, no drag, only an effortless glide toward our destination. What, if not divine intervention, could accomplish such a feat?" His voice held a mixture of reverence and awe.
"As I said, I do not know," Corlys admitted, though wonder remained evident in his tone. "But one thing is clear—this is extraordinary. I have spent my life on the water, and yet the sea reminds me, once again, that I have not seen everything."
Hearing Laenor's approaching footsteps, Corlys turned and beckoned him forward. "Come, son. Witness this—you may never see anything like it again."
Laenor offered a small, awkward smile but obeyed.
In time, they would grow used to it. The more they sailed with him, the less remarkable it would seem. But for now, he chose to enjoy the sea, to relish the power thrumming through the waters—the domain that called to him. If not for his father's presence, he would have already dived into the depths, letting the ocean and its life surround him, embrace him, as it always did.
{Line Break}
Laenor chewed absently on a piece of fish, his gaze drifting toward Laena. She was eating with a grimace, clearly displeased, but their father's stern stare kept her from pushing the plate away. He could only pity her—she despised eating fish at sea, yet she had no choice. Still, it wouldn't be long before they were back on land.
It had been four days since they left Driftmark, and now, on the fifth morning, Maidenpool was nearly within reach. They were breaking their fast as the ship cut swiftly through the waters, and in an hour or so, they would arrive at their destination. Normally, the journey to King's Landing could take over four days, especially if the winds were uncooperative. But with his hydrokinesis easing their passage, they had reached Maidenpool far sooner than expected. Which is far from Driftsmark than King's Landing.
For three days, his father and the crew had marveled at their ship's unnatural speed, attempting to find a logical explanation. By the fourth day, however, they had resigned themselves to the mystery. What had once been astonishing now felt almost ordinary.
"Do they know we are arriving early?" asked his uncle, Vaemond, as he finished his meal. His eyes were on Corlys, awaiting an answer. "Maidenpool's keep isn't large—it can only host so many, and with the crowds gathering for the tourney, space will be scarce."
"We can only hope our chambers are prepared as they should be," Corlys replied. "As for our arrival, they will have spotted our sails from the harbor by now. I expect our escort will be waiting before we disembark."
Silence settled over the small wooden chamber once more. Vaemond, having finished his breakfast, stood and excused himself, likely to check how far they were from shore.
Corlys turned his gaze to Laena, then to Laenor. "I trust I don't need to remind you what to say if the king or his brother question you."
Both of them nodded, their expressions serious. Their father gave a satisfied nod in return and took his leave.
Laena let out a sigh once he was gone. "Do you miss Embaryx and Veltharys?" she asked softly.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Laenor replied without hesitation.
"We shouldn't have come to this stupid tourney," she muttered.
"Laena, what's done is done. There's no use dwelling on the past," Laenor reminded her. "We're here now. We might as well enjoy our short stay while it lasts. And remember—no showing weakness before these courtiers. It would not reflect well on our house."
She huffed but said nothing. Laenor stood, stepping toward her and wrapping her in a firm embrace. She held onto him tightly, her arms strong around his smaller frame, only releasing him after several moments to press a kiss to his cheek.
A small smile tugged at Laenor's lips, mirrored by his sister. Taking her hand in his, he led her outside to the deck, where the morning sun was cresting over the horizon. They stood together, speaking of idle things for an hour, until a voice rang out—
"Maidenpool in sight!"
Both turned their heads toward the shore, and there it was in all its pink-hued splendor.
The harbor was far smaller and less bustling than Driftmark's, yet Laenor barely spared it a glance. Instead, as they drew near, his attention was drawn to the escort awaiting them at the docks.
A lone man stood at the forefront, clad in dark armor from head to toe, a crimson silk cloak draped over his shoulders. A smirk, full of confidence and mischief, played upon his lips as one hand rested on the pommel of his sword.
Daemon Targaryen.
The Rogue Prince was waiting for them.