Diana fought back the tears that brimmed in her eyes as she sat, seemingly frozen in her's and Daemon's cabin on their ship, The Valonqar, a gift from Viserys on Daemon's thirtieth nameday.
Beside her, Viseys slept peacefully in his cradle as the ship rocked gently back and forth, the skies clear of storms despite the turbulence that had rocked House Targaryen and House Velaryon with the sudden death of Laena.
Despite making black a staple of her wardrobe since her marriage all those years ago into House Targaryen, the black fabric of her dress felt constricting as Diana fought to keep her breaths calm and even despite the grief that threatened to overtake her.
Despite living hundreds of miles apart for the last decade, Diana had made it a point to visit her children and grandchildren at least semi-regularly and make it clear that the door was always open for them at Runestone. Add on the fact that she'd watched Laena grow up in the Red Keep, and the loss of her good daughter was hitting her hard.
A knock on the door had her head snapping up and staring blankly as Daemon stepped into the room, his usually bright eyes sombre as he took in his wife. Like her, he wore all black, his signature red absent from his wardrobe, and his hair was neatly combed.
Coming over to lay his hand on her cold cheek, he whispered, "We'll be docking soon, love. Aelyx and Rhaenyra are preparing the children."
Blinking rapidly, Diana forced her mind to focus as she cleared her throat and stood, pulling Daemon's hand off her cheek and clasping his fingers with hers. Nodding, she said in a tear-rasped voice, "Let me grab Viserys. I'll return him to Rhaenyra, and as soon as we dock, I'll go find Daemion and the girls."
Her husband's eyes narrowed in sympathy, but he shook his head, "Viserys and his lot will be arriving at the same time. There are protocols to be followed, darling."
Diana's eyes narrowed as her temper flared, "Who gives a fuck about protocols? My son's wife is dead. My grandchildren are motherless. I belong with them, not kissing Viserys' feet and worrying about his fucking wife's precious feelings."
Shoving away from Daemon's gentle hold, she strode over to where Viserys was stirring awake, their voices loud in the small, quiet space. Forcing herself to smile softly for the babe's sake, Diana plucked him up and cradled him close, shushing him until he fell back into sleep's grasp.
Continuing to ignore her husband's presence, unrepentantly using her sleeping grandchild as a shield, the princess pulled on her fur skin coat and checked her appearance in the mirror. Her brown eyes held circles under them, and her ordinarily vibrant face looked pale in the dark cabin, but overall, she looked presentable, her gown and hair immaculate.
When she made to bypass a scowling Daemon entirely and head outside, he grabbed her arm and forced her to link it with his. Unable to jerk away with Viserys in her arms, Diana rolled her eyes and allowed the silver-haired prince to escort her out onto the deck, where there was a flurry of movement taking place as sailors raced to prepare the ship for docking.
In the middle of the chaos stood the rest of Diana's family, her children working on wrestling her grandchildren into some semblance of order. It was easier than average, with the mood being so melancholy, most of the children's eyes were red with tears, their forms drooped in grief as they clung to each other for comfort.
Plastering a smile onto her face, Diana opened her free arm wide and pulled a sobbing Alyssa into her arms, kissing the girl's silver curls while crooking her lip at a pale-looking Dahlia who clung to her niece's hand in a vice, her dark curls pulled up into a tight updo for once.
It took a while for the ship to be finally deemed safe for disembarkment, the sun high in the sky but hidden by the clouds. Further down the dock, a flood of green pooled off another larger ship as the King and Queen waited for them. A bored-looking Aegon stood far away from his mother and father, his clothing dishevelled, while a dazed Helaena was forced to walk arm-in-arm with a scowling Alicent.
Aemond, looking smart in his new green doublet and black trousers, rushed to meet them, his eyes locked on a sad-looking Jocelyn, who jerked forward to meet him halfway but was halted by a disapproving Alycia.
The necessary greetings were made as the groups joined up, and the children mingled while the adults stared suspiciously at each other, their grief putting them on edge as the factions were forced to socialize. Alicent's eyes were glued to Rhaenyra's back as the heir consciously decided to ignore her stepmother, instead choosing to fuss over her children and clasp Aelyx's hand with hers.
Viserys looked exhausted as he walked with his group of Kingsguards, his one arm using a cane to prop his half-decimated body up as they walked towards Driftmark. The keep looked gloomy and uninviting as they approached, with only a lone servant standing out front to greet them, social cues dictating the grieving family stay out of the spotlight until the funeral.
"Your rooms have already been prepared for your arrival, Your Grace." The steward said, bowing his head and holding out an arm to show them the way.
"I would see my son first," Diana said, voice firm as she handed Viserys off to his mother.
The steward blinked, eyes wide with shock, but to his credit, he pivoted quickly and nodded once before snapping his fingers at a maid who scurried forwards. Then, turning back to Diana, he said, "If you please, follow me, Princess."
Line Break *
The room felt dark and cold, but Daemion didn't care. His muscles burned from lack of movement, but still, he sat and stared out onto the balcony, his gaze fixed on the mountain where Vhagar roosted, her mournful cries having been heard for the last week. Since Laena's death.
Since Laena's suicide…
Dead… his wife was dead, and he felt like he died with her, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart once beat. Not even the sobs of his children could rouse him from his grief. Multiple times a day, Rhaenyra or one of the servants would visit, and he just… couldn't bring himself to care.
A piercing wail echoed through the halls, and Daemion flinched before curling into himself.
The maesters called it an act of the gods. His son had lived despite his slight frame and sickly appearance, growing stronger every day, according to Rhaenys, who came to update Daemion every day without fail. Sometimes his good mother was soft, carrying the babe in her arms and offering him to Daemion; other times, she came in on a tear, pulling at his clothes and screeching at him to get up and resume his duties as a father.
Neither method worked, obviously.
The only reason Daemion knew how long it had been since his wife's demise was the open balcony doors that let the sunlight in. Finding the energy to stand up to go to the chamber pot felt exhausting, and only the severe hunger pains prompted him to eat and drink what little he could. His skin felt dry and stretched thin across his bones like he was a skeleton walking.
The sound of soft footfalls on the stone floors had him fighting the urge to scream as someone approached. His lip curled as the dishevelled man snarled, not bothering to turn around, "What part of 'leave me the fuck alone' did you not understand? Fuck off."
"Now, why would I do that when I know my child is suffering?"
The familiar feminine voice immediately brought tears to Daemion's eyes, and at that moment, he regressed to being a young child. Hiding in the library, content to fill his head with histories and stories of old and clinging to his mother's skirts while she read aloud to him.
Turning slowly to look at the woman dressed in all black, clutching a bundle in her arms, Daemion murmured, "Mother."
Diana Royce had aged beautifully, with her dark brunette hair free of grey hairs and her face only showing minimal age lines. Her hair was pulled back into a severe undo, her figure still an hourglass shape only slightly affected by age and childbirth.
The bundle in her arms whimpered, and her attention immediately shifted to consoling the infant cradled. Humming a tune, Daemion recognized it as an old Valyrian lullaby; she began to pace further into the room, rocking the babe and making soft faces at him until he quieted.
Daemion could feel his eyes burn at the sight of another woman cradling his son. Even if it was his mother, it wasn't Laena. It should be his wife standing there. Dropping his eyes back down, he froze when the footfalls drew closer, a pointed edge to them.
His eyes caught on the black skirts of his mother's gown as she came to stand right next to his sitting form, the heat from her body infecting his. When he failed to look up, she huffed and grabbed him gently by the hair and firmly pulled his head back until he stared at her or risked losing his brunette locks to her talon-like fingers.
Once she knew she'd gotten his attention, Diana let go and began petting his hair instead, combing her nails through the greasy, unkept mop and frowning sadly at him. Without meaning to, Daemion leaned into the touch, craving comfort despite his internal struggles.
"How are you, my precious boy?"
Daemion didn't reply; instead, his gaze shifted to his son, Cordyn, as the babe babbled to himself, his tiny fist clenched in his mouth. His skin had darkened a little since birth; a good regiment of sleep and milk had obviously done his son well. The hair on his head was surprisingly brown, like Daemion's.
Dragging his gaze away, Daemion muttered, "My wife is dead, and my children are motherless. So how do you think I am?"
"I can't even imagine." His mother replied, her voice soft, not at all condemning for the condescending tone he was using with her, "The funeral is tomorrow. All of the guests have arrived."
At the reminder, dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and the idea of his beautiful wife sinking to the bottom of the ocean, never to resurface, made him want to vomit. If he had any food in his stomach to vomit. He hadn't eaten a proper meal in two days.
"Do not worry, mother, I will not disappoint you or shame this family by not attending." Her snarled, his blood pressure rising, and his grief making him testy.
Diana frowned as she reached down and grabbed his chin, yanking on it so he was forced to look at her, "You could never be a disappointment."
Daemion chuckled sardonically; his tone took on a dark edge as he muttered, "I am a father who abandons his children in his grief. I haven't even held my own son since his mother died. So what else could I be other than a disappointment?"
"You are human, my son. Flesh and bone, just like your father and me. And just like us, you make mistakes."
"And what mistakes have you ever made? You are the perfect wife, mother, and lady. The Bronze Beauty."
The sarcasm and acrimony in his tone were evident, and it was apparent his barb had hit its target when his mother's hand dropped, and her eye twitched. Frowning, the older woman took a step back, her voice turning hard as she spat, "I allowed my bitterness to ruin my relationship with my sister, and she died believing I hated her. Now all I can do is try and raise her son right and hope he is a better lord than I was a sister."
At the reminder of his mother's frayed relationship with her Royce relatives before their deaths, Daemion's gaze dropped as guilt immediately overtook his apathy. What the hell was he doing? Why was he acting like this? Had he fallen so far without his darling Laena to lead him toward the light?
"If it is within my power, I will not allow you to make the same mistakes as me. To allow bitterness and pride get in the way of what is truly important."
"And what is that?" His voice held no vitriol, only exhaustion as Daemion gazed up at her with dead eyes.
"Your children. If you cannot find a reason to continue living for yourself, find the strength to live for them. Do not cause them any more pain than the loss of their mother."
Tears pooled in the young prince's eyes as he whispered brokenly, "I don't know if I can, Muña."
"Of course, you can."
"How?'
"By taking the first step and holding your son."
Without letting him overthink it, Diana passed the slumbering babe into his arms, the limbs feeling weak from misuse as he took on the tiny weight. Gaping, he could only stare down at his son's small, wrinkled face and feel the tears roll down his cheeks as he took him in. Cordyn was perfect, equal parts Daemion and his mother, with her bone structure and skin tone but with his father's hair.
Daemion began to sob with a gasp and pulled the babe to his chest, weeping as he lowered his head to kiss and breathe in his son's unique scent. At the abrupt movement, Cordyn awake and let out a weak, terrified cry that began to harmonize with Daemion's grief-stricken sobs.
Together, father and son wept until all the tears had been spent, and there was only heartbroken peace between them as exhaustion pulled the babe back into sleep, and Daemion leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and felt the pain of his wife's absence.
Line Break *
Only the sound of crashing waves and sullen footfalls filled the air as Laena's coffin was prepared for its final departure into the sea. Everyone in the Velaryon and Targaryen households was in attendance, all dressed in dark colours, their eyes down in either true or faux grief.
With a puffed-out chest, Vaemond Velaryon began his sermon in High Velyrian, his gaze fixed on a sobbing Baela as she stood clutched in her grandmother Rhaenys' arms as Rhaena sobbed into a stone-faced Daemion's chest which held his daughter close with one arm and with the other, rocked a softly babbling Cordyn.
Ever since his reunion with his son the day prior, the widower had thrown himself into caring for his children, not letting go of the babe except to hand him off to the wetnurse and keeping an eye on his daughters.
The Velaryons all stood together, with Laenor looking a mess, almost half dead from his place next to a solemn-looking Corlys and furious Rhaenys, who hid her anger and grief behind a black veil that flapped in the wind. For the funeral, the Kingsguard had been permitted to wear Velaryon colours again, and he did, his doublet a dark, almost black blue, with silver seahorses sewn on.
His hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, but despite his attempts at looking put together, it was apparent how haggard the man was at the loss of his sister.
"As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters and a son on the shore.
Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood.
Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.
My gentle niece, may the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart.
From the sea we come, to the sea we shall return."
Forcing herself to remain stone-faced, Diana studied all those in attendance, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the bored look on Aegon's face and the false piety on Alicent and her newly returned father's faces. The Seven-Pointed Star necklace the queen wore gleamed gold in the cloudy seaside air as the crowd watched as laena's coffin was dropped into its watery grave with a splash.
After the stone coffin was gone, the court began its trek back up the beach towards Driftmark, where a light luncheon awaited them. Even the normally rambunctious children were silent as they clung to each other or an adult for comfort.
The youngest children, those under five, were exempt from attending; Joffrey and Baelon were inside the keep with their nursemaids.Cordyn would soon join his cousins, the babe far too young to spend all day clutched in father's arms outdoors, surrounded by strangers.
Above them, dragons shrieked somberly as they flew ahead, coming to roost in the cliffs near the keep, their scales glowing despite the lack of sunshine. There was only one massive figure missing, with Vaghar taking solitude high up on the sand dunes on the beach, away from people and other dragons. According to scouts, she'd chased off any dragon who approached with fire and snapping jaws, only to fall asleep again.
Dahlia sniffled as she clutched at Daemon's hand as he led her and Diana up the steps, his typically smirking face sombre as he also took in the guests. Clutching his arm with hers, Diana murmured softly in High Valyrian, "The Green Queen couldn't even dress her children in black at a funeral. The green isn't even dark. The audacity, poor Helaena is wearing that god awful puke coloured 'gold' dress."
"Put away the claws, my love. We are at a funeral. We can kill them all later." Daemon muttered, humour lightening his tone as he smiled softly at his wife. He understood more than anyone how she was liable to lash out when under stress.
"Promise?" Diana pouted, her lip ticking up a little when Daemon snorted and kissed her brow, pulling her close as they followed the procession.
The guest mingled softly for the next hour, their eyes judging as the courtiers searched for gossip in the royal family's grief. It didn't look like it at a glance, but if you paid attention, the funeral had been split into two factions almost entirely down the middle. With the Queen and her followers on one side and Rhaenyra and hers on the other.
Thankfully, with the funeral taking place on Driftmark and invitations only going out to those the Velaryons deemed necessary, the odds were stacked against Alicent and her Greens in this instance. The politically astute queen typically held an edge in King's Landing, whereas here on Driftmark, she was quite literally a fish out of water.
It seemed like Alicent had come to that conclusion as well, with how close she was to her loyal sworn sword, Ser Criston and her father, Otto, who hung like a shadow over the whole affair. His return to the court was a matter of speculation ever since Ser Lyonel and his heir Harwin had decided to return to Harrenhal, the lord pleading his old age and Ser Harwin's training as the future lord as their reason for their departure.
The King had bellyached when he'd been asked to excuse his loyal hand of over a decade. But alas, he had acquiesced when reminded that he had many capable options at his disposal. Unfortunately, the queen had jumped at the opportunity presented and convinced Viserys that Otto Hightower was a changed man, loyal to the crown and eager to serve once more.
In his efforts to keep the peace with his wife and her litany of complaints, Viserys obliged her.
With his reinstatement, the Small Council was much more evenly packed with members of both factions. With Rhaenyra, Lord Beesbury, and Tyland Lannister on one side, and Alicent, Otto, Jasper Wylde and Grand Maester Orwyle on the other.
The position of Commander of the City Watch was still vacant after Ser Harwin's exit as Laena's funeral took precedence. However, if Diana remembered correctly, Ser Harwin's second in command had taken the post temporarily until a replacement could be chosen.
A sneer curled Alicent's beautiful face as she glared at her good daughter across the balcony, her eyes narrowed and brown eyes filled with envy as she watched Rhaenyra cuddle and comfort her children.
Gazing out among the crowd, Diana frowned as she took in Baela and Rhaena where they sat, hands clasped on a bench, their face's drawn and pale with grief. Daemion stood nearby but was distracted, discussing who knows what with a scowling Corlys and teary-eyed Rhaenys.
Patting Daemon on the arm to nod her head in their granddaughter's direction, Diana let go of his arm and began the trek across the balcony. Once she was close enough, she waved a hand until Rhaena caught sight of her, the girl's face lighting up in recognition.
"Grandmama!" The girl cried, pulling Baela up as she ran into Diana's waiting arms. Eagerly, Diana pulled both girls close, kissing their silver hair and murmuring reassurances as they began to sob into her chest.
"Hush, my darlings. Everything will be alright."
"I miss mother!" Baela cried, "I don't want to be Lady of Driftmark!"
At her words, Diana's head snapped up, and she looked around to see if anyone had overheard the child's incendiary words. Thankfully, it seemed the sound had been muffled by Diana's body and hadn't been heard.
Coming to kneel in front of the tearful children, Diana asked, "Why my child? Do you not want to be a lady of your own keep?"
"I talked to grandfather last night; he said Driftmark will go to me after he dies. I don't want grandfather to die!"
Sighing, Diana could only sadly shake her head and palm both girls' cheeks, saying, "Death is a part of life, my sweet girl. Everyone must make that journey someday so that there may be new life."
"Like the sun making way for the moon?" Rhaena asked, her voice husky with tears.
"Exactly like that, my child. Death is not something to be afraid of; it is only the beginning of a new stage in everyone's existence. We must not go searching for it, but if it comes, we can only try to face it with a strong heart."
Both girls nodded solemnly and jumped back into their grandmother's waiting arms. Diana could only clutch them close and gaze at her son as Daemion watched them with sorrowful eyes. She knew he'd heard her words by the contemplative look in his eyes. Then, after a moment, he nodded to her in thanks and returned to continue his discussion with his good father.