chapter four,
flames of war — 127 AC

A raven delivered the news of four deaths, just like her dream had promised.

It was a rare thing, to see the Grand Maester come knocking at her chamber. When he uttered the unwanted words to Valyria, all she could do was close the door and return to the silence of her room. She sat on the cold, stone floor, inches away from the burning hearth— tears welled in her eyes. The princess rested her head upon her knees, whispering to herself that it was going to be okay.

She had already lost one mother. Now another.

Laena Velaryon did not survive. Neither did the child in her womb. Claimed by flames, the same as Harwin and Lyonel Strong— the Hand of the Kind, the Commander of the City Watch. Four souls, taken by fire. So, she cried. For her father, for her sisters, for Rhaenyra, for Jacaerys and Lucerys who lost a father, for Laenor, who lost his sister.

For Athens, who lost both father and brother within the same hour. They left for Harrenhall a day past, Lyonel commanded his younger son to stay. That simple instruction would now haunt the boy for the rest of his life.

Years had passed since Valyria last saw Laena. Daemon visited on rare occasions, only for his daughter's secrets, that was. He did not trust her words to be sent by raven. But at that time, Laena gifted her a necklace, as a temporary goodbye. A promise that she would see her again. Only now she never would. It sat in a jewelry box atop Valyria's distant vanity, covered by parchment and notebooks.

I will wear it for the funeral, she decided.

Until then... she was alone. Mourning the loss of the Velaryon princess, her stepmother. A woman who once took her into her arms when it was never even her duty to do so. Valyria, truthfully, did not know how to process her own thoughts. Her state of mind was lost on her, any sense of understanding now ash in the wind.

Why was her mother taken from her, all those years ago? What did the Gods have against an abandoned daughter?

She could ask these questions as many times as she wished, but Valyria would never receive an answer. Only vague dreams and night terrors.

When the sun rose, the birds began singing their songs, only they sounded... sympathetic, almost. Princess Helaena was the first to visit, entering Valyria's room and wrapping the girl into a hug. They were never big on affection, with anyone, for that matter. But perhaps she knew it was needed. Or she knew Valyria truly had no one else.

No matter the reason, she found herself accepting the warmth of Helaena's presence.

They sat there together, on the lumpy mattress, with their legs crossed and words hushed.

"Do you remember your mother? The Lady Rhea?" Helaena asked softly, a careful approach lacing her tone. She plucked at the emerald green hem of her dress, violet eyes honed in on the material.

"Not as much as one should." Valyria answered. She had her spine up against the wooden headboard, still dressed in a beige nightgown. She did not wish to leave her chambers this day and she didn't plan on doing anything of the sort for a while. She would bide her time with her thoughts. The very ones that laid waste to her mind.

-

Two weeks later, the Royal Court arrived at Driftmark. An island west of Dragonstone in the Blackwater Bay, the seat of House Velaryon. Here, Laena's body would be laid to rest within the deep tides, a traditional and honorable burial true to her name.

Valyria never much liked the unknown that was the sea. The waves made her stomach uneasy, for that she refused to learn how to swim. No one ever pushed her to do so, either. So she sat tucked away in the boats cabin during the journey, remaining mostly silent until they reached land.

Otto Hightower was named Hand of the King once again, not even several days after the passing of Lord Lyonel. Valyria could not forget what she saw that night in the dungeons. The screams she heard, the twisted smile on the face of Larys Strong.

"I am prepared to offer you mercy. If you're prepared to pay a little price."

Hours later, his father and brother were dead.

When Otto returned, it did not take long for her shared betrothal to be announced to the realm. The very one that promised both her and Helaena to one Aegon II Targaryen. The hope of a dragon egg soon faded at the approach of grief, her fate sealed in blood.

Screaming flames, mourning the loss of four souls. Four would die, her lips would be cut with dragon glass, and her soul would be bound to Aegon Targaryens. And Helaenas with it. It was all happening, just as she dreamt.

The prince sat beside her during the journey, sneaking sips from her untouched glass of wine. Alicent having limited him to one until their arrival, he unknowingly downed his the moment they sat sail. Valyria did not care enough to stop him from drinking hers, instead her attention lingering on the necklace clasped around her neck.

She felt silly. Immature, almost. Laena was not her mother, she felt as if she had no true right to grieve. That belonged to Baela and Rhaena, to her father and to her sisters.

Maybe it was their sadness she felt, not her own. Perhaps she could live with that.

She was dressed in black, a stark contrast to her pale and freckled skin. She wore one necklace and many rings, each of them twisted with every anxious thought that passed through her mind. Valyria was quite nervous at the aspect of seeing her father again. It had been several long months since his previous visit to King's Landing, the last time he laid eyes upon his firstborn daughter.

She didn't know what to say to Baela or Rhaena, a simple sorry would never suffice for the loss of a mother. She knew this better than anyone. Valyria only wished hers was with her to tell her what do to. Surely she would know.

The princess found herself snapping back into reality when they tied the thick ropes to the chiseled stone coffin.

Her body swayed as if she were still on the ship, violet eyes blinking tiredly in order to focus. Valyria steadied herself, her small body placed between Aegon and Queen Alicent. A few feet away stood her father, next to him his two grieving daughters. They were clutched to their grandmother, seeking comfort from Rhaeneys. The Queen Who Never Was.

Vaemond Velaryon, the younger brother of Lord Corlys, led the funeral in High Valyrian. Valyria understood it well, even the hidden remarks indirectly aimed at Princess Rhaenyra who had her arms wrapped around her boys.

"We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon to the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King where He will guard her for all the days to come. As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore."

As he spoke— Valyria repeated the words in a hushed whisper to Aegon, who never cared enough to learn the language. She noticed Viserys head tilt up at Vaemonds unnecessary mention, but the King remained silent.

"Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours run thick. Ours run true. And ours must never thin."

By the time she repeated that last sentence, Valyria allowed her voice to fall to a hush— stepping further back between Aegon and the Queen. Viserys silently cast his stare to Laenor, who was next to Rhaenyra with puffy eyes and quiet cries.

Then to 'his' children. Who looked nothing like him.

A laugh was heard from the other side, coming straight from the mouth of Daemon Targaryen. Valyria attempted to cower away from the situation once again but Alicent only tugged her forward, right back into place next to Aegon.

The coffin was soon cast into the sea, returning Laena to where she once began.

The funeral moved to a stone balcony, overlooking the dark blue waves of the sea. There were many nobles who attended, names she could list off but did not feel the need to bother herself with the process. Instead Valyria sat with Helaena, one princess coddling insects while the other analyzed the gathering of bodies.

In a way, they were very much alike. Helaena played with bugs, Valyria played with people.

Daemon stood alone, eyeing the crowd, the same way as his daughter. He held a cup of wine, every so often taking sips from it. He had yet to say anything to her, let alone look her way.

Baela and Rhaena sat together, by the crackling flames of a torch. Away from their father. They didn't speak, Valyria did not blame them.

According to Maester Orwlye's records, after Lady Rhea died, she became a silent babe. She never whined, she never cried, Valyria only listened and waited.

She wanted to say something to her half sisters. Anything. But when she opened her mouth, she found she had no voice. She could never talk about her own mother's passing, so what could she possibly say to ease their sorrows?

Reluctantly, her violet eyes fell to Athens Strong, who stood by his remaining brother. He looked tired, his tear ducts rubbed a raw red. Neither of them attended the procession at Harrenhall. He even gave his brother the claim that was his birthright. Valyria assumed Athens could no longer face the castle. Maybe he suspected Larys and refused to let him out of his sight, seeing as the man refused to leave the Queens side. Or perhaps he just needed to be with someone he knew, the last person he truly had left.

That did not stop her from suspecting Larys.

"Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black, dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread." Helaena repeated the phrase softly beside Valyria, the princess shifting in her spot to look at her. Spool of green, spool of black. Dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread.

It reminded her of a dream she once had.

Banners of green, banners of black. Marching separately, the looming shadows of dragons flying up above. She could hear their distant screeches, the clinging sounds of metal against metal. The crack of leathern wings. There was salt in the air, she remembered. The scent of the sea.

"We have nothing in common." She heard Aegon speak from where he stood with Aemond, a few feet behind her and Helaena. Though his words were not directed at Valyria, solely towards the girl beside her.

"She's our sister." Aemond was quick to defend.

Aegon whipped his head to the side, "You marry her then. I'll gladly keep Valyria. She has spirit. Isn't that right, cousin?" He quipped, now talking to the quiet princess.

She remained so, saying nothing. She regretted that day on the training grounds more than ever, it seems the events made Aegon chase after her like she was his next refill of Red Arbor.

"I would preform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us." The younger brother retorted— eyes lingering on Helaena who paid no mind to any of them.

This only brought a scoff from Aegon as he sipped his wine, "If only."

Aemond looked to him, "It would strengthen the family. Keep our Valyrian blood pure." He insisted, as if he was reading words off a parchment paper.

"We are not pure." Valyria finally said, her usual gentle tone now curt. Helaena rose her head, looking to her. "We are rotten." Valyria added, a whisper beneath her breath.

It was then when she decided to stand to her feet, slipping away from the siblings to venture off on her own accord.

She made her way down the long set of stone stairs, far away from the crowd of buzzing minds. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders, being away from the talking heads. Valyria always preferred to be on her own, this was how she was raised: alone. With no one but herself, really.

She never felt connected. To anyone. Like all strings had been cut, abandoned.

She sat down on the stairs, clasping her hands together in her lap. She looked out to the sea and imagined herself floating along the waves, sinking into the depths to never be seen again. Was this what she wanted?

Perhaps no one would even notice if she did.

"Valyria."

Her back straightened. Daemon.

Valyria glanced back, spotting her father standing just a few steps higher than the one she sat on. He made his way down, with that same loose smile he kept snaked around his lips. Gods, a smile and a laugh during the funeral of his lady wife? If this was him, who would she be?

"Father." She said in return, following him with her violet stare as he crouched down and sat alongside her.

His eyes lingered on the necklace she wore, eventually pulling away to look at the sea. Daemon was quiet, searching for something to say. Or testing the patience of his daughter, it could be either one, even both at the same time. He had an... unconquerable mind, she would call it.

There was a time when the silence between them made Valyria feel disoriented. Now, she found solace within it. If she were to be honest, she was starting to prefer it.

Daemon, he didn't quite know what to say when it came to his daughter. As if she were a truth he could not face. A secret he could not hide. There was so much love lost and none gained in return. A branch of his life with a road never paved.

It took a minute for words to be spoken.

The sun hid behind the clouds, its slumber beginning. "Will you return? To King's Landing?" Valyria asked, watching the waves crash against the shoreline. She noticed a figure down there, kneeled into the sea, his body trembling. It was Laenor Velaryon. Mourning his sister, she assumed.

"Why should I?" Daemon retorted, voice sharp and lined with a thick coat of his signature wit.

The daughter grew quiet. For me, she wanted to say.

He looked to her, his thick brows furrowed. "You will be wed soon, Valyria. You will bear children and endure the process. You've no need of a father, if that is what you still persistently insist on calling me." He muttered the last part beneath his breath, but loud enough for her to catch.

The child sighed, standing to her feet, ready to make her way back up the staircase.

"That Bitch Queen Alicent will pursue the crown for Aegon." Daemon spoke, the sound of his voice alone stopping his daughter in her tracks. She rested her hand on the stone, her eyes falling to the stairs below, waiting patiently.

"Do us all a favor and ensure he cannot carry the weight."

-

She lay in her shared chambers with Helaena, the princess fast asleep on the other side of the mattress. Valyria, on the other hand, was wide awake. She did not sleep well unless it was in her own bed, back at the Red Keep. That and her father's words rang clear in her mind, forcing her thoughts to run ajar.

Ensure he cannot carry the weight. What kind of request was that? Make him loathe the throne, the mere idea of it?

If she were home, she would sneak into the Dragon Pit and hope to find answers there. Being among them was where she felt most safe. There, one lonesome night, she discovered something while sneaking through the pit. An overlook that peered into a deep ravine, sharp stalagmites and stone columns supporting the vast, open space.

A forbidden area, one not even the Dragon Keepers ventured through. Only the Elders did. The Elders and Valyria, that was.

Aegerys had claimed that space. The Bringer of Death.

The dragon had never been claimed himself. Once, he was a small egg, hatched by the formidable Meraxes. Then his mother flew to war with Dorne and never returned. He continued to grow, retreating into the depths of the pit. Any and all attempts to lure him out were futile, so much so that the Keepers eventually stopped trying.

Which was exactly what he wanted. But he did accept the sheep sent his way.

Never bite the hand that feeds you.

Valyria saw him that night. The hours of dusk, spent staring down at a slumbering dragon. He looked peaceful, the princess envied him for it. Crimson and onyx scales, no sign of a saddle tied around him. Unclaimed, unchained. Free. She left before he even knew she was there.

He could leave the pit at any time if that was what he wanted. But the dragon chose to stay, for whatever reason.

The sudden sound of hushed whispers tore her from the memory, in her hands the ceramic figure that Viserys gave her. Valyria looked to the closed door, down to the orange glow of the hallway torches that flickered on the other side.

She saw the shuffling shadows of moving figures, piquing her interest. Glancing at Helaena, she assured the princess was fast asleep before sliding out of the bed. Valyria ushered her cloak over her shoulders, sliding into her slippers and sitting the toy dragon onto her pillow.

Before she knew it, she was cracking the door open, quickly spotting four bodies huddled at the end of the hallway. It didn't take her but a moment to recognize them— Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys, and Lucerys. Her cousins and her sisters.

"What are you guys doing awake?" Valyria whispered, closing the chamber door behind her before approaching them.

Their hushed whispers fell quiet, Baela motioning her half-sister over with a wave. "Someone stole Vhagar!"

The princesses brows furrowed, "Your mother's dragon? Who would..." Valyria began to question, but her words faded into a realization. With the persistent torment of Aegon, there was only one person who would be careless enough to take on the largest dragon in the realm.

Aemond Targaryen.

Rhaena pulled her along, continuing down the twisted halls of Driftmark. Valyria knew she would soon regret climbing out of bed, her sisters smaller hand wrapped around her own. She couldn't bring herself to say anything at the funeral. Now— she had no other choice.

They made their way through the castle until they reached a tunnel, one that led out to the shores. There, they found him.

It seemed that in a matter of hours, Aemond had changed. She could tell by how he walked, the way his eyes moved to analyze each of them. It reminded her of the one eyed boy she saw, sitting at the head of the council table.

"It's him." Baela said, slowing in her step. "It's me." Aemond quipped, sliding the cloak off his shoulders as he entered.

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon." The girl was quick to retort, standing her ground. Valyria was next to her, watching the interaction carefully.

His stare met Baela— "Your mother's dead. And Vhagar has a new rider now." He announced, his words stinging the air like venom.

"She was mine to claim!" Rhaena stepped up, releasing her hold on Valyria's hand.

"Then you should've claimed her." Aemond challenged, his tone wrapped in newfound pride. "Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you."

It was then when Rhaena chose to attack, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. Aemond deflected easily, harshly shoving the girl. Baela stepped in as her sister fell to the floor, swinging a swift punch to the side of his face.

The move sent Aemond stumbling back, but he wasted no time in retaliation— his fist cracking down upon her nose, her body falling. "Come at me again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" He seethed, blood dripping from his busted lip.

This came as no surprise to her. Of course, the moment he was deemed worthy of a dragon by the Gods, he would use the creature as a weapon. A form of terror.

"That's enough, Aemond!" Valyria called out, hastily stepping to stand in front of her sisters, shoving him back with her hands. Her fists fell to tighten at her side as he met her eyes, a sense of hatred running deep in his own. She couldn't help but wonder if it was now for her.

She couldn't say anything else, not before the yells of both Jace and Luke cut her off, charging at their cousin with full force. Valyria watched as they brought him to the ground, kicking and punching his body, followed by her sisters who rushed over to join them, fists raised high.

She hated this. She hated all of it.

"We cannot kill him!" Valyria pleaded, attempting to pull the trashing bodies off of Aemond, who was now left defenseless. Why she cared, she could not say.

Though this did not end well for her, the elbow of Jacaerys whirled back with each punch and her attempt to grab it slipped right out of her grasp. It instead slammed into her face, a sharp crack of her nose followed by a gush of blood causing her to stumble step back.

Jace looked back in shock, but Aemond only took advantage of this opportunity.

With his foot, he sent the prince flying back with one harsh kick. Then Rhaena with another. Baela received a punch, a cry falling from her lips. Whereas the young Lucerys found a hand to be wrapped around his small throat, stopped in motion as Aemond retrieved a large stone from the sand.

Valyria cupped her nose, catching the fall of crimson in her other hand. She felt the crooked bone, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins seemed to mute all the pain.

She watched Aemond raise the rock, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards."

Luke cried in his hold, blood coating his features. "My father's still alive!"

Aemond only smiled. He looked to Jace, who had his hand on Valyria's back with a sympathetic expression that soon turned into rage. "He doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?"

Jacaerys unsheathed his knife in the blink of an eye. He rushed forward, causing his cousin to release Lucerys, shoving the small boy in order to deflect the blade. His brother pushed him back into Valyria, who hastily caught Luke with her crimson stained grasp.

In the whirlwind of it all, Jacaerys ended up falling to the ground by a punch to the gut— his small knife clattering into the sand. Valyria felt Lucerys slip out of her bloody hands as Aemond raised the stone once more, ready to bash it into the head of the prince.

But then a handful of sand was thrown. The blade was retrieved, and then it was carved right into the skin of Aemond Targaryens face, slicing through his eye.

"You will have a dragon one day." Alicent assured, placing both hands on her son's shoulders. "I know it."

Valyria looked to Helaena as she whispered one last sentence that seemed to slither into the back of her mind and nest there, "He'll have to close an eye."

-
3947

unedited 🙌 so sorry

edit: omg i forgot the graveyard

rip to my boys, lyonel and Harwin 🫡
and sail free my girl laena 🙏🤍