"I want to grab my brother's hand and run back through time, losing years like cloaks falling from our shoulders."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Daenys floated in the murky depths of unconsciousness, her senses dulled by the weight of her own weariness. It felt as though she were adrift in a sea of shadows, pulled down by the heavy chains of numb sleep, yet amidst the darkness, a persistent shaking stirred her from her slumber, tugging at her with a desperation she did not imagine anyone might give to one such as her.

At first, she was only vaguely aware of it, a distant echo of sensation that barely registered through the fog of her mind. But as the shaking grew more insistent, more urgent, she felt herself slowly being drawn back to consciousness, like a ship pulled from the depths by a relentless current.

Her head throbbed with a dull ache, each pulse sending waves of pain crashing through her skull. With great effort, she summoned the strength to open her right eye a crack, the other swollen shut so tightly, it hurt just to think about it. Through the haze that clouded her vision, she could make out the blurry outline of familiar brown curls, swaying gently with each movement.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she had passed from the realm of the living, but the warmth of the hands that grasped at her, the tender care with which they held her, chased away any fear or doubt that might have plagued her. 

Perhaps the Stranger was doing her the kindness of coming to claim her in the guise of someone she knew. Although she would have liked it to be her father, Ser Harwin made a fine replacement. However, as consciousness began to seep back into her weary limbs, Daenys found herself realizing that the grip was too weak, too fragile to belong to the stalwart knight who had raised her with such love and devotion. No, this touch was different, softer, gentler, yet no less determined in its purpose. 

Could it be Luke then, she wondered, having absolved her of her crimes in death, and there to hold her as she passed over. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was not him. Luke's touch was sure and steady, his hands strong and capable, nothing like the fragile grasp that held her now. 

Then Daenys found herself engulfed in a tidal wave of fear and uncertainty. Despite any brave words she might have uttered in the past about being prepared to face death with courage and false bravado, the reality of the moment was stark and undeniable: no one was truly ready to meet their end.

Tears welled up in her eyes, hot and stinging, as soft, choked sobs wracked her body. In the embrace of the figure holding her, she felt a desperate need to both pull them close and push them away. She clung to them as if they were her lifeline, as if by holding onto them she could somehow anchor herself to the world of the living. Yet, even as she sought solace in their embrace, a part of her recoiled from the thought of facing the unknown, of surrendering herself to the finality of death.

"I don't want to die," she whispered, her voice trembling with raw emotion, the words a fragile plea against the looming spectre of mortality. "I want to see my mother... hug my little brothers... beg for forgiveness..."

Her thoughts tumbled together in a jumble of confusion and longing, each desire a reminder of the life she still yearned to live. She wanted to feel her mother's arms around her, to seek comfort in the embrace of her siblings, to make amends for past wrongs and seek forgiveness for her failings.

Above all else, Daenys Velaryon did not want to die and she was afraid. 

That is until she forced her eye open completely, and saw him. 

There he was, her brother, her beautiful baby brother, his arms wrapped around her as he shook her with desperation leaking from his eyes in a never-ending river. 

"You're going to be alright. Please, please, please, you're going to be alright. You have to be," Joffrey Velaryon muttered over and over, like a prayer gone stale. 

He said it so many times that Daenys believed him. If he was her then she was not alone. If he was here then she wasn't as loathed as she believed herself to be, and if he was looking at her like that, then she would be okay. 

"You're going to be alright. I promise you're going to be alright."

She did not question why he was there, or how he had even found her. All that mattered was that he was here. 

She closed her eyes, ignoring the way his frantic sobs grew louder. 

She had been ten when he was born, and her father had handed him to her for the first time ever so carefully, his slender weight so fragile in her arms, and now here she was, dead weight in his fragile arms. It wasn't fair. He should not have to look after her like this. That was her job. 

She had been thirteen when he broke his wrist the first time while sparring, and she had cradled him just so, whispering the same words that slipped past his blubbering lips now. 

You're going to be alright. You're going to be alright, I promise you, you're going to be alright. 

She had said it over and over, even as the maester wrapped his injury and placed him on bed rest. She had said it until it had healed completely, over and over until he believed her. 

Now he was returning the favour. 

Daenys's eyes remained closed. It was easier to live in her memories, where the sounds of her brother's laughter rang in her ears like bells and her heart wasn't a graveyard of losses. 

The urgency in the voice that pleaded with her to wake up finally pierced through the haze of her consciousness once more, and she groaned softly in response, the sound escaping her lips as if torn from the depths of her soul. The hands that shook her grew more insistent, more desperate, and with a jolt, her right eye flew open once more, this time properly taking in the frantic expression of her brother.

"Joff?" she whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse murmur, her mind struggling to make sense of the chaos that surrounded her. But before she could gather her thoughts, Joffrey was moving, trying to rise from his position beside her on the floor of the little wooden cabin.

"We have to go home, Daenys," he urged, his voice trembling with emotion, his eyes wild with fear and determination. "You'll be alright if we can just get you home. Maester Gerardys will fix you. I know he will. He is Grand Maester now, you know. If anyone can fix you, it's him."

The words spilled from him in his panic, and he explicitly avoided looking at her face, now that she was awake. With a grunt of effort, he reached for her, his fingers curling around her arms as he tried to loop them around his neck, to hoist her limp body up from the floor, but his strength faltered, his knees buckling beneath him as he struggled to bear her weight.

"Joff, you don't have to-"

"Be quiet..." he choked out. "Please...please just be quiet. I have to-I have to think."

"Joffrey, I..." Daenys began, her voice catching in her throat as she watched the anguish play across her brother's face. "I'm sorry..."

Joffrey would not be deterred. With a renewed determination, he tried again, this time reaching for her under her arms, his fingers grasping desperately as he sought to pull her towards the door, towards the spill of twilight that beckoned from beyond.

"We have to go home, Daenys," he repeated, his voice strained with effort, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You'll be alright, I promise. Just hold on."

Fueled by his perseverance, Daenys summoned the last reserves of strength within her weary limbs, pushing herself up into a shaky standing position. The world spun around her in dizzying swirls, and for a moment, she feared she might collapse once more, but the urgent grasp of her brother's hand steadied her, anchoring her to the present moment with a fierceness that spoke of his unyielding resolve.

His grip on her hand was tight, almost painfully so, as if he feared that she might disappear if he dared to loosen his hold. His fingers dug into her skin, his nails leaving faint impressions in their wake, but Daenys found herself welcoming the pressure, finding solace in the reassurance of his touch.

Daenys leaned heavily against her brother, her taller frame awkwardly mismatched with his shorter stature, but Joffrey bore the burden without complaint, and Daenys felt a pang of guilt gnawing at her heart. She knew that she was putting her brother through this hardship, that her own weakness was burdening him with a weight that he should not have to bear.

Outside on the beach, Silverwing and Joffrey's dragon awaited their arrival, and Daenys turned to Joffrey, suddenly furious. 

"You rode Tyraxes!" she whispered hoarsely. "How many times have I told you not to-"

"You're one to talk!" Joffrey snapped sullenly. "Look at you!"

"Tyraxes is not large enough to ride safely. You could have gotten hurt. You could have died."

"You would have died if I had not come! No one else would come, but I had to, I just had to Daenys."

"Why? Why would you risk yourself..."

"Because it's you!" the brunette boy's lower lip trembled as a fresh wave of tears spilled down his cheeks, and this time Daenys did not stop herself from racing out and thumbing them away. "Because it's you, and I know they were all wrong about you. They said you were a traitor, but I knew you weren't. Not you. Never you!"

Wordlessly, Daenys pulled him into her, finding comfort in the way his bony arms wrapped around her waist and sobbed into her salt-and-blood-encrusted dress. 

"It's okay," she mumbled. "It's okay, you're going to be alright."

"I'm supposed to be telling you that. You're the one who needs to be alright."

"I'll be alright if you're alright," Daenys managed a weak chuckle. "And you're riding Silverwing with me this time."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Daemon Targaryen was an impatient man. It had been almost a week since his Lucerys had been murdered in cold blood by the usurper's brother, the son of the whore who killed his King, and unfortunately his daughter's husband. Daemon had been waiting for a chance to avenge the young boy but Rhaenyra had stayed his hand, expressing concern for the daughter who remained in the viper's den at King's Landing. She had worried about harm befalling Daenys but Daemon didn't think their lack of action would stop the Hightowers, not if they truly wished to cause her harm. Their lack of action or retaliation clearly hadn't stopped Lucerys's death, so it would not stop Daenys's if it came to it. 

Mysaria's spies assured him that the Velaryon Princess had not bent the knee to the usurper as Otto Hightower had so brazenly declared before his wife, and Daemon had to wonder how much longer they'd keep her alive if she wasn't serving some greater purpose to them. It wasn't as if his Kinslayer nephew had enough heart to do it out of mercy, or gods forbid, some pathetic notion of love. 

Whatever it was, he and Rhaenyra had already lost a daughter and a son, and they could not afford to lose another child. Daemon would deal with it of course, as he always did, but he didn't think the Queen could bear another heartbreak like that. She was stronger than most of them, but three children dead would be unnecessarily cruel of the fates. That kind of loss hollowed one from the inside out. 

These were the thoughts that consumed Daemon as he took his early morning stroll along the grounds of Dragonstone. He was finally brought out of his reverie by a commotion in the air. He looked up just in time to see a massive silver dragon land a few yards away, and from the dragon's back climbed off the last person he expected to see here. 

When Silverwing landed at Dragonstone, Daenys barely even noticed, not until Joffrey shook her awake once more, signalling the end of their journey. He helped her slide off and together they stumbled, on the damp cobblestones below, dawn creeping across the sky behind them. 

Joffrey eyed her for a moment, meeting her eyes with great difficulty, and it began to hit her how terrible she probably looked. Her head still spun and she was so cold, as if all the warmth had bled out of her, but the only thing on her mind was to make it to her mother still standing on her own two feet. 

She had to bend the knee to her true sovereign. 

Her knees shook, and Joffrey reached out to steady her, but then there was another figure, a sturdier presence that caught her elbows before her knees could buckle and brought her up. As she lifted her face to look up at them, even though her vision was more than slightly blurry now, she heard a sharp intake of breath. She could make out the vague outline of a familiar face and she nearly collapsed with relief.

"Daemon," she breathed.

Daemon looked at Daenys in horror, shrewd eyes mapping the bloody torn contours of his daughter's face. Then his attention turned to his son, brows furrowing. 

"Does your mother know where you've been?" he inquired sharply. "Haven't you been told to remain in Dragonstone for your own safety?"

Joffrey flinched and instinctively tucked himself behind his trembling sister. 

"I-I'm sorry, Father. I just...it was a short flight, I promise!" 

Daemon felt the slightest guilt at the look in Joffrey's eyes, but it couldn't be helped. The safety of his family was his first and foremost priority, and Joffrey in particular, he had raised practically from birth. 

"Go to your Septas at once. I shall speak to you later on this. And by the gods, do not let your mother know of your misadventures."

Joffrey hesitated, looking up at Daenys.

"Will...will she be alright, Father?"

Daemon almost winced when he looked at her again, and then he was filled with rage. Rage at whoever had done this to her. Turned her face into a mangled mess. His beloved daughter, reduced to this? As if he needed another reason to behead Otto and his entire bloodline. 

She seemed delirious from blood loss and could barely stand, so he solidified his grip on her arms and signalled to a nearby groundskeeper to lead her dragon away. 

"She'll be fine, Joffrey, so be on your way now and send for Maester Gerardys on your way."

"Where-"

"Mother!" Daenys blurted. "I need to see Mother, please, take me to Mother."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The air was heavy with the weight of sorrow in Daemon and Rhaenyra's shared chambers, where Rhaenyra lay, tangled in the embrace of a fitful sleep. As Daemon shook her gently awake, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet stillness, Rhaenyra groaned softly, her body heavy with exhaustion, her mind clouded with the weight of grief.

Slowly, she sat up, rubbing sleep from her swollen eyes, her heart heavy with the ache of longing. The pillow beneath her was damp with the evidence of her tears, and she wondered what new catastrophic news her husband would break to her today. 

But as she turned her gaze to the figure kneeling at the foot of her bed, her heart skipped a beat, a rush of emotion sweeping through her like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. There, before her, knelt her daughter, her darling girl, her firstborn child, her heart's greatest treasure.

"Daenys..." Rhaenyra whispered, her voice choked with emotion, tears welling up in her eyes once more as she drank in the sight of her daughter, as if seeing her for the first time all over again. "Oh, my dear sweet girl. Is it really you?"

Daenys kept her face bowed low, a veil of hair obscuring her features, a silent gesture of humility and reverence as well as an excuse to hide her injury if only for a moment longer. As her mother's words washed over her like a soothing balm, she nodded her head ever so slightly, a tremor of emotion running through her slender frame. 

"Yes, Your Majesty, the true Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms."

It was as if Daenys had been in a drought and Rhaenyra was rain, a cure to her pain. 

"Come, my darling," her mother said, her voice soft and tender. "You don't need to kneel before me. I only wish to hold you again, to feel your embrace and know that you are truly here, and not a spectre of my imagination."

As Daenys finally lifted her face and stood before her mother, she braced herself for the inevitable reaction, steeling herself for the pain that she knew would flicker across Rhaenyra's features at the sight of her scarred visage. But nothing could have prepared her for the raw anguish that washed over her mother's face, the way her features contorted with a mixture of shock, horror, and heartbreak.

Rhaenyra blanched, her eyes momentarily averting from her daughter's disfigured face before returning to trace over it, her gaze lingering on the puckered mass of flesh and blood that marred her features, taking up half her face. The silence between them stretched on, heavy with unspoken words and unshed tears, until finally, Daenys found her voice.

"Mama... I..." Her voice trailed off, choked with emotion, and she was a child once more, going to her mother for a skinned knee or hangnail. Something small and insignificant that she would kiss away, and all would be right in the world again. 

Daenys felt a surge of self-loathing wash over her, a bitter taste of shame that threatened to swallow her whole. She was hideous, she realized, a grotesque mockery of the daughter that her mother had once known and loved. Even now, Rhaenyra could not bear to look upon her without recoiling in horror.

With a heavy heart, she turned away, ready to take her leave, to spare her mother from the burden of her presence, but before she could retreat, Rhaenyra reached out and pulled her down to sit beside her, her arms wrapping around her daughter in a tender embrace.

That was what opened the floodgates and Daenys buried her face in her mother's neck, her tears flowing freely now, unchecked by the weight of guilt and shame that had burdened her. She felt unworthy of her mother's love, unworthy of the comfort that she so freely offered, and yet, in the warmth of her embrace, she found solace and sanctuary.

"Shh, my darling," Rhaenyra whispered, her voice soft and soothing against Daenys's ear. "It's alright. I'm here, and I will always be here for you."

"I didn't do it!" Daenys hiccuped. "I didn't bend the knee to Aegon. I'm not a traitor, I swear!"

"I know, dearest. I know."

"But Otto said-"

"Never mind what that cunt said," Daemon snapped, still watching their reunion silently. "Your mother never doubted you."

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry Mama. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Rhaenyra soothed, carding her fingers through Daenys's hair with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "My beautiful girl, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I thought I had lost you too. I could not lose another child, another daughter. I could not bear it."

"Another daughter?" Daenys whispered in confusion, pulling away from her mother for a moment.

"The baby. The baby did not make it. I have lost my Visenya. I have lost my Lucerys. I have lost my father. How much more must I lose till the fates decide they are done with me? I cannot lose you too."

Oh. 

So that is what Otto Hightower meant by the loss of two children. Daenys did not know what to say, or how to put into words the grief and the regret and the guilt. 

She did the only thing she knew how to do. She apologized some more. 

Daemon came over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "We are glad for your return my little one. It was getting unbearable, all these losses."

Her mother only shuddered at his words, her grief too much to contain, but she held herself together. For the sake of her daughter, she held herself together. She had been doing so for a long time, waiting, hoping for Daenys's return. Putting all of her faith in Alicent and her son to keep her only remaining daughter safe, even as they broke her trust over and over, as they stole her crown and her Lucerys. Now that she had Daenys in front of her, her resolve shattered and all that was left was despair at the loss of everyone she loved and the final betrayal Alicent's family had cost her: the mutilation of her child.  

Rhaenyra finally pulled away a little to properly examine Daenys and she cringed under her scrutiny. She did not want her mother to see the extent of her injury or the horribly uneven job she did at trying to mend it. 

"Call a maester. Call a maester, my daughter is hurt," she muttered angrily, gesturing to Daemon who caught her hand and tried to soothe her as he called for a maester as she had asked. 

"Mother, I am fine," Daenys sniffled. "It's alright. I'm ok so please do not worry."

"NO! Look at you. How can you be fine? Just looking at you hurts me so how can you possibly be fine!"

When maester Gerardys finally made an appearance, even he winced at the sight of Daenys's face. He had been tending to her since she was a child and she had never seen him look so concerned. 

"What has happened princess?" he prodded at the left side of her face experimentally, shaking his head when she flinched at the touch.

"Will she be alright? Can the eye be saved?" Rhaenyra still had Daenys's hand clutched tightly in hers. 

It was strangely reminiscent of another time, of another mother, frantically asking the very same question. The irony of it all was not lost on Rhaenyra. 

Maester Gerardys carefully cut away the violet threads that bound her wound together and Daenys felt herself missing their loss. There was something symbolic about it, about having to hold herself together using the very same threads that wove through her mother's favourite flowers, her brother's favourite masterpiece. 

Everything was both a memory and a landmine. 

"My queen, there is no eye to save," the Grand Maester responded grimly. 

Rhaenyra's hand squeezed Daenys's tighter and across the room, Daemon growled. 

"That worthless husband of yours will pay. The least he could do was keep you safe as his family decided to usurp what was rightfully your mother's. He made vows to protect you, to honour you. There is no honour in maiming your wife, in killing a child."

As Maester Gerardys continued to examine her injury, Daenys could feel the pain creeping back in. She had made herself numb to it but it was coming back in waves and she did not know how much longer she could hold it at bay.

"It appears as though whoever stitched you up had hooves for hands. Do they not have trained maesters at the Red Keep anymore?" the elderly man inquired, and Daenys found herself flinching at his words. Then he pulled out a needle that he brandished in her direction, "Hold still princess, this is going to hurt quite a bit."

When he placed the first stitch under her eye, Daenys tensed. Her mother's grip on her was deathly tight, yet somehow it soothed her because she leaned into it. It did not hurt as much as it had when she had tried to stitch herself up. Perhaps it was Rhaenyra's maternal comfort or perhaps all the trauma had finally fried her nerves. 

Whatever it was, Daenys thought that she would have liked a bit of wine to help her along. She didn't dare ask though, for alcoholism was not her forte. 

Not yet anyway. 

Rhaenyra on the other hand seemed to carry the pain in her very bones. She gasped every time the needle went under Deenys's skin, her other hand clasped against her mouth to swallow the sobs that threatened to break past her lips. She had to remain strong for her daughter, and it took everything within her not to snap at the poor old maester to be gentler. 

Seeing her like this, Rhaenyra finally realized what Alicent must have felt on that night on Driftmark, the night her son's eye was taken. As she watched the maester tell her that her child's eye could not be saved, as her child cried into her arms and she was helpless to do anything. Daenys wasn't even crying, showing no external indication of pain except for the occasional tremble, but Rhaenyra felt as though she'd break into a thousand pieces. Watching one's child in pain was one of the most painful experiences, and Rhaenyra's pain was built on top of the death of her other children. She knew nothing but pain these days. 

Perhaps a little too late she realized that it had been unfair for Alicent to have had to sit and watch Aemond suffer as he had that night. 

Too little too late. She had failed her family, and in turn, they had taken from her all she held dear. 

There was no room for reconciliation now. 

She couldn't help but wonder all the same, if all those years ago, she had just given up Luke's eye, would he still be alive today? Would her children be safe if she had sacrificed such a thing back then? An eye seemed so trivial in the grand scheme of things. She would rather have her son without an eye than not have him at all.

"This will leave a very prominent scar, my Queen," Maester Gerardys turned to Rhaenyra when he finished up suturing and bandaging Daenys's eye. "There will also be scars where the uneven stitches went. Undamaged skin that did not need to be sewn was put under the needle, so this is to be expected."

Rhaenyra gave him a tight-lipped nod and thanked him, as Daemon sent him on his way. 

"Mama..."

Rhaenyra turned towards her daughter, thumbing away the stray tears that had spilled from the eye that could still cry, "Yes my darling girl?"

"Can I stay here with you tonight?"

"Yes of course. You can stay as long as you want. I will have you with me forever if you wish it."

And so in the comfort of her mother's arms, Daenys finally found peace after what felt like a brief eternity. Even though she knew it was temporary, she allowed herself to relax and slip into the darkness that had been creeping its fingers toward her since her standoff with Aemond on the balcony. It had been so long since she had been held like this, with affection so unconditional, by someone who cared this much about her. She had once thought Aemond had grown to care for her, but how delusional she had been. No one could love her like her family could, and in return, she'd lay down her life for them. She was finally where she belonged, with the people she'd die for. With the people, she'd kill for. 

The last thing she heard was her mother and Daemon's tensed whispers but she was more focused on the feeling of Rhaenyra's fingers running through her hair and for the first time in weeks, she slept without fear. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A/N: lol canonically book Joffrey's is about 11 here and that's the age we're going with so he's not too baby. Anyways, sry for the slow update, was drowning in my PJO (Luke Castellan) brainrot and forgot this fic existed for a minute haha, but we can't forget our OG husband Aemond and yalls lovely comments brought me back so here we are. Hope you enjoy!!

As usual, don't be a ghost reader, comments/interactions really motivate me to continue writing so share your thoughts plz and thank u ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡