Daemon holds Rhaenyra as she sleeps. As fierce as she had been on the beach when she told him of the plot, he can tell the night has shaken her.
Vhagar's loss accelerated their action. The Queen's outburst had given them reason to flee with the children, and so they left before the sunrise, days sooner than Rhaenyra had discussed with Laenor – disturbing yes, but a happy accident in the grand scheme of things. The lord, of course, was nowhere to be seen when Alicent attacked, whether by accident or by careful planning – Daemon will never know for they shall never speak again. Regardless, it made no sense for them to wait whilst the children were in danger. There will be suspicion, oh yes, but it can all be explained away. Thank you, Alicent, he thinks in his head, for giving us our alibi. For how else could they have justified leaving Driftmark whilst Laenor remained behind? A window opened before him, and Daemon would be damned if they waited there like fools whilst it closed them in. He trusts Laenor and Qarl to improvise as necessary. For now, he shall wait, for there is nothing for any of them to do until they receive word from Driftmark of Laenor's passing.
Rhaenyra shifts in his arms, and she is a girl again, her pale lashes visible in the morning light. She is soft to his eyes, small once more. Tonight made clear the world in which he left her. Daemon finally understands: Rhaenyra is no woman of stone but a girl inside a fortress. He had believed that she was strong enough to survive in King's Landing without him. The princess endured it, yes, but no one can truly flourish as they bear the weight of the world on their own. In his absence she had toiled, not hardened, but toiled in the darkness of her mind to forge her tools. And then the small girl set to work, building her castle brick by brick – a small turret in the beginning yet it grew over the years into a labyrinth, built with stone walls to safeguard against the outside terror. And then she locked herself inside. The girl built courtyards, too, some flowers amongst the grey, and had smiled with mischief as she beheld her work – at these secret oases she'd created for herself amongst the barricades. But even the prettiest of flowers make for poor company after years spent on one's own. She wandered those halls continuing to build. It was all she could do: for she had lived there so long, she eventually forgot where she'd placed the key.
Daemon realizes in this moment as he holds her in his arms that what Rhaenyra truly needed was not to be left alone but to be taken by the hand away from it all – to be held, to be encouraged, to be loved for all her fire and darkness; to return to King's Landing and to claim what belongs to her with a champion at her back. To be publicly backed, to be defended; to be honored with all that he has. He will spend the rest of their lives setting it right.