Year: 129 AC

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"Did you find them?" Daenys called down, peering down into the darkness of the cave Daemon had disappeared into. 

The terrain of Dragonmont was rough beneath her feet and the chill of the evening mist clung to her like a damp shroud, obscuring her vision even further. Daenys wrapped her arms around herself and she rocked on her toes as she waited.

Eventually, she spotted a figure emerge from the shadows, and the wide grin on Daemon's face seemed to break through the mist. With him, he hauled a large leather satchel, his eyes glimmering with barely contained excitement. 

"How many then?"

"Syrax brought a fresh clutch! Three eggs" he exclaimed in High Valyrian. "Three eggs!"

Daenys mirrored his smile then.

"One for Rhaena, one for the new baby, and one more too-" Daemon cut himself off once he spotted the two Dragonkeepers approaching them. He carefully handed them the satchel with explicit instructions, "See that they are placed in the warming chamber."

"At once, my prince," one of the Dragonkeepers answered.

The other pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to the Targaryen prince, "The maester brought this. It has just arrived from Lady Baela on Driftmark."

At the mention of his daughter's name, Daemon's grin broadened. It had taken years for her to forgive him, and now 

At the mention of his daughter's name, Daemon's rugged features softened. It had taken years for him to gain her forgiveness, and now he navigated their relationship with great care, as cautiously as a man of his temperament could anyway. They were remarkably alike in their stubbornness and their shared obstinacy was often a source of conflict. Still, for a man who was not used to making compromises, for her his begrudging attempts spoke volumes. 

Daenys couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness at the soft look in his eyes as he unfurled the letter. It was stupid really. Daemon was good to her, good to all of them, but her heart broke a little every time she thought about the mountain of letters hidden in the bottom of her chest that her own father would never read. It was another childish habit that had carried over, even now, when she was almost nine and ten. She wrote to Laenor, less often now, but still monthly. She imagined she was updating him on the events of her life and in some alternate reality, he read her letters and was proud of the person she was becoming. 

After the Dragonkeepers were dismissed, Daemon opened Baela's message and his smile disappeared. 

"What's wrong? Is Baela alright?" Daenys looked at him in concern.

Wordlessly he handed her the scrap of parchment and took off toward the castle. 

"Vaemond Velaryon?" Daenys asked incredulously. "He can't be serious? He has no right to the Driftwood throne, and it is a disrespect to the Sea Snake. Grandfather is only injured, not dead, and his brother is already scheming to steal his seat!"

Daemon cast her a sidelong look, an expression on his face that Daenys could not decipher. 

"I shall speak to your mother about this. We shall see what she has to say about it," he muttered.

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Daemon strode into the great hall, Daenys following closely behind. At the center of the space, Jacaerys stood, his posture rigid, his palms resting on the massive painted table that dominated the room. The table, a work of art in itself, was covered in intricate carvings and the major cities, castles, and landmarks of Westeros. Jace's knuckles were white from gripping the table's edge, and his furrowed brow revealed his deep concentration.

In one corner of the hall, a roaring fire cast flickering shadows that danced across the ancient stone walls. Nearby, young Joffrey sat engrossed in his lessons. His wide-eyed curiosity was evident as he listened intently to the lessons being imparted to him.

A maester, in his robes of grey, stood by Jace's side, reciting passages in High Valyrian. The ornate language flowed from his lips with a sense of timeless wisdom. Jace, however, appeared utterly frustrated. He struggled to translate some of the phrases, and the lines etched on his face told a tale of growing impatience. With each passage, the pressure mounted, and he seemed to teeter on the brink of exasperation.

Across from Jace, their mother, Rhaenyra, stood with a soft smile. Her presence in the room was a soothing balm, as she observed the maester's teachings, her eyes filled with gentle pride.

"Perhaps that's enough for one morning, Jace," she soothed. 

"No! No, I want to keep going," the prince protested. 

Rhaenyra simply nodded, folding her hands over her swollen stomach as she continued her observations. 

After another slight error in his High Valyrian translation, he sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

"I don't expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace," Rhaenyra tried again, to reassure him. 

"A prince should honour the traditions of his forebears," Jace frowned and his eyes slid to the newcomers. "And besides, if Daenys can do it, so can I!"

Daenys rolled her eyes and grinned, "Oh dear brother, perhaps it is time you learn to simply accept the matter."

"Accept what," her brother grumbled. 

"That I'm better than you," the princess winked. 

"You are not!"

"Daenys!" Joffrey's head snapped toward her, and he abandoned his books to scamper toward his sister.

Rhaenyra's attention was finally drawn to the arrival of her daughter and husband and she beamed. Then she caught the serious expression on Daemon's face and her demeanour grew sombre.

"Leave us," she ordered, and the maester departed immediately with a bob of his head. 

Her children lingered a little longer but then she threw them a pointed stare.

"That means you too, my loves."

"Yes, Mother," they chorused in unison. 

Once outside, Daenys paused, allowing a thin sliver of the door to remain ajar. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't resist the temptation. As she leaned in, she overheard the hushed tones of their voices, but it was enough to catch her attention.

Jace, standing beside her, furrowed his brows, his voice hushed and stern, "You're not supposed to eavesdrop." 

Daenys simply patted her younger brother on the shoulder and responded with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Oh, Jace, I'm an expert at it, you know. Besides, you're free to leave if you wish." She said it knowing that he would stay because he was her brother after all. He shared her curiosity, even if he disapproved of her tactics.

As expected Jace shook his head adamantly.

"If you're going to listen in, then I will too," he declared, his determination unwavering. 

"I suppose you don't disapprove after all, then."

"You'll both get into trouble," Joffrey mumbled.

Daenys pressed her index finger against the young boy's lips, "We won't if we stop talking."

Inside the room, Daemon had handed his wife the message from Driftmark and she was reading it with growing concern. 

"He means to call into question Jace's legitimacy!" Rhaenyra hissed. "And by extension Daenys and by extension, my own claim to the throne."

"Vaemond cares only about Driftmark and the Velaryon line. Not about our politics," Daemon tried to pacify her. 

"Then he means to target my son, he means to target Jacaerys?"

Jace stiffened next to Daenys, his eyes growing wide at the mention of his name. Having read the message already, Daenys expected her mother's reaction but the tone of her voice still worried her. Every time Rhaenyra was pregnant, Daenys was filled with trepidation and she did her best to ensure to the best of her ability that nothing upset her mother. 

"Call my legitimacy into question?" Jace whispered. "Is this about the Driftwood throne?"

"I-"

Then his eyes widened at the implication of his own words, "Is it Grandfather? Is the Sea Snake dead? That's the only reason why they'd be debating succession issues!"

Daenys shook her head, "No, Grandfather is not dead. The message would have said so, if he was."

"Who is it from anyways?"

"Baela."

Jace's expression softened, almost bashfully, at the mention of her name and Daenys shot him a knowing look. He had been in the most sullen mood during the first few weeks of her departure to Driftmark.

"She didn't tell me such matters were occurring," the brunette prince sighed. 

"She didn't? You two write to each other almost every day. What do you even talk about?" Daenys smirked. 

Jace reddened.

"None of your business!" he snapped. 

"Shhh!" Joffrey squeaked, eyes darting to their mother as she continued her conversation with Daemon. 

"Has Vaemond made common cause with Otto Hightower?" Daemon inquired. 

Rhaenyra nodded, her frown deepening, "This is what I fear. Rhaenys has flown to court. Surely she cannot be planning to back him, not against Jace."

"No, whatever disagreements we may have had, she would not be that cruel...or stupid enough to do that," Daemon's voice was resolute. 

Daenys's ears pricked at that. While it was true that since Ser Laenor's funeral, they had not gone to visit Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys on Driftmark, nor had they come to Dragonstone, Daenys couldn't think of any disagreement, and definitely not one as severe as the one her mother and Daemon spoke of. Perhaps her grandparents had been somewhat distant but the young princess had chalked it up to grief. She exchanged the occasional letter with them and they seemed pleasant enough. 

She strained her ears, certain that she would hear about the particulars of the animosity between her family members when Joffrey broke the tension by harshly tugging on her hand. 

"I'm hungry!" he declared. "Take me to the kitchens."

Daenys scowled, "Jace will take you. Shh, I'm trying to listen!"

"No! I want you to come with me. Both of you!"

"Joffrey!"

"Oh, Daenys, please. Please, please, please!"

Daenys huffed a sigh as she tried to placate her brother but while trying to silence his whining, she missed Daemon and Rhaenyra's exchange. She only heard the tail end of their sentence, something about Rhaenys having no love for us, which Daenys thought was absurd. She loved them, just as they loved her. What reason could she possibly have to not.

Joffrey's petulant complaints filled the space and just as his older siblings tried to silence him, their mother interrupted. 

"What are you troublemakers up to? Eavesdropping are we?"

Daenys shook her head, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Oh, we just got here, Mother. We were actually on our way to the kitchens to get some pastries. We thought you might have a craving for something specific."

Rhaenyra's smile was strained and it didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was for reasons other than what Daenys imagined. Still, she needn't have worried. Her children, so immersed in their bickering, did not hear the one phrase that might have planted a seed of animosity in their hearts against her. 

Joffrey, however, couldn't quite hold his tongue. As Daenys began to fib, the youngest of the three chimed in, "No, Mother, that's not-"

Daenys and Jace simultaneously clapped their hands over Joffrey's mouth, muffling his confession, and shooting him a stern look, urging him to remain quiet. Joffrey mumbled indignantly behind sealed lips and both Jace and Daenys turned back to their mother with identical innocent expressions. 

"Joffrey's just being silly, Mother. We were really just planning to bring you something sweet." 

Rhaenyra's concern seemed to ease momentarily at their antics. She chuckled softly and shook her head, her heart warmed by their thoughtfulness. 

"You three are something else," she said, a fondness in her voice as she pressed a hand to her belly. "Alright, go get some pastries, but be quick about it, and bring me something with cinnamon, please."

"Yes, mother!"

"And prepare yourselves," Daemon added seriously. "We leave for King's Landing soon."

"King's Landing, Father? Is this because-" Joffrey began. 

Daenys tightened her grip on her brother's jaw once again before he could let anything else slip. Daemon chuckled and ruffled the younger boy's hair. Daenys felt rather than saw Jace harden next to her. She understood the sentiment. It felt like an erasure of Ser Laenor, every time Joffrey called Daemon his father, but it couldn't be helped. He knew no other, having been only a babe when their mother remarried. He never knew Ser Laenor like the rest of the Velaryon siblings did, and for all his efforts, Daemon was not a terrible father. 

"Sounds absolutely lovely, Daemon!" she began to lead her brothers away, calling over her shoulder. "And Jace has been eager to see Baela again, so I'm sure we shall all have a wonderful time."

Daemon's eyes glinted as he drawled, "Oh is he now?"

Jace's neck turned a deep scarlet and he kicked his sister's shin, making her stumble.

"You-"

"You can't swear," Joffrey interrupted Daenys.

Daenys scowled before schooling her face into a saccharine smile. Then she grabbed her brothers by the shoulders and hauled them off to the kitchens with mumbled threats. 

Rhaenyra watched the children go wistfully, "Do you think they heard us? About...Laenor...?"

Daemon shook his head.

"I doubt it. They are innocent children, not well-versed in the art of masking their true intentions. If they had heard, they would have asked about it."

"I hope you are correct."

"I usually am Ñuha jorrāelagon," Daemon pressed a kiss to his wife's temple. 

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A/N: sry for how short it is but dw you'll get the next one hopefully tmrw. Make sure to share your thoughts in the comments <3