Save the Dragons
F.Y.I: This chapter is longer than I originally expected it to be, by a ways, so I hope you enjoy it.
I'm not really sure what I'm writing for Chapter 7, even though Chapters 8-11 are pretty fleshed out. I think maybe a Jane Goodall approach to dragons along with some family moments. If you have any story ideas, feel free to share them.
Chapter 6 – Silver Wedding
Laenor
"A toast to Ser Laenor!" came the cry of some knight in the tavern that had accompanied Laenor on his Stag Night.
"To Laenor!" reverberated the tavern's occupants.
Laenor was at the bar, nursing a tankard of ale, that tasted like piss frankly, Westerosi alcoholic beverages outside of Arbor Gold had something to be desired.
"You don't look like someone about to get married?" said Joffrey Lonmouth, his only real friend in this world. It was dangerous to be friends with a gay man in Westeros, especially being so close. Yet he was one of few people in the world that Laenor could trust implicitly. The Knight of Kisses was fiercely loyal.
In fact, now that they weren't having an affair, Laenor wondered if Joffrey wasn't bisexual with the way he frolicked around with women, but that may well be an act. Such a thing wasn't uncommon for homosexuals in the realm, easier to hide that way. Joffrey probably preferred not to be outed, now that he was without his true love, i.e. him in another life.
It wasn't something worth asking Joffrey. He was taking a don't ask, don't tell policy pretty strictly. He had enough secrets already.
Laenor snorted, "I'm ecstatic, who wouldn't want to get married to a princess?"
"And yet you look like your dragon just ate your dog."
"I'm just tired..." Laenor waved off, and he was tired. The last fortnight had been rife with drinking and feasting and hunting and hawking; celebrations for the wedding. And there was only more to come, another seven days of tourneys and feasts after the wedding.
This time Joffrey snorted, "Keep telling yourself that."
Laenor took another swig of ale, "I will."
"I thought you loved the girl?" quizzed the Knight of Kisses, who even if he wasn't his secret lover, still knew him better than any other man.
Yet he'd rather be with Laena, flying somewhere. But she was forced to attend Rhaenyra's little soiree on account of her sex.
Laena, he could talk to about how he felt without being misconstrued.
"I do." Laenor agreed. Or at least, he thought he did.
He didn't know for certain if he loved Rhaenyra or not, he'd never experienced it before. They certainly weren't getting married out of love.
He cared for her, wanted to protect her, and wanted to defend her claim.
Plus he was attracted to her despite how shameful that made him feel. She was still only a girl of seventeen. Sure, in this body, he was only twenty but mentally he had decades on her.
Wedding and bedding a girl felt so strange to him, yet it was necessary, for her sake and the world's that they marry and start producing heirs.
He couldn't tell if the butterflies in his stomach were love or disgust at himself.
To the world, he was besotted with her, worshipped the ground she walked on, yet in his heart of hearts, he was terrified he was going to kill her in childbirth.
The butterfly effect had already changed the world. She could die in the birthing bed, it had killed her mother. For all his assurances to her that he had seen her deliver healthy children without fear of concern or that he'd be able to heal her if things took a turn for the worse, he was still afraid.
Even if she survived, war was still on the horizon, a war that might kill her and their children.
Yet tomorrow he would be married and become the Prince-Consort of Dragonstone. The future King-Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.
And Joffrey wondered why he looked depressed. The weight on his shoulders threatened to crumble him like a house of cards.
It was easy enough to put on a brave face, but he alone bore the weight of the world on his shoulders and it felt sickening to add that weight to a young girl.
He'd been preparing for it for years, but now that it was here, his stomach was in knots. The only reason he hadn't become an alcoholic out of sheer stress was because it was too important to keep his wits about him for the struggles ahead.
He took another sip of ale.
"Calling Ser Laenor!" Joffrey broke him out of his musings, "Are you still here?"
"Sorry, Joff," he apologized, "I was just lost in thought."
"You have a lot on your mind, I understand."
"Thanks, Joff, you're a good friend, my best man."
Joffrey laughed, "You're drunk."
Laenor gave a dark chuckle as he emptied the tankard, tasting iron when he downed the last swallow, "I'm only a little drunk."
"I'm honour bound to make sure you arrive at your wedding tomorrow well rested."
"Bound to whom? Surely not to me."
"I swore to your mother you wouldn't show up with bottle ache."
Laenor groaned, "I am Prince of Dragonstone now, she's my vassal, you take orders from me."
"Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight you're still just Ser Laenor and your mother scares me more."
"Traitor," he muttered when Joffrey grasped his arm and kept him from grabbing another tankard.
"Fine, fine, we're done here," Laenor said, slamming a coin purse on the bar. "Drinks all around for my good friends."
The tavern cheered his name and Laenor & Joffrey took their leave, not before Laenor grabbed a wineskin full of Arbor Gold. Guards in Velaryon livery followed them to ensure their safety at night.
Laenor stopped to piss in an alleyway and tried to make sure Joffrey didn't get a peak at his butt.
"It's nothing I haven't seen before, you know." japed the Knight of Kisses.
"Shaddup," murmured Laenor, pulling his breeches up and wiping his hands in a nearby puddle.
"What's bothering you so about your marriage?" asked Joffrey, "You can tell me. I promise it won't get back to your wife."
"She's just so... young."
Joffrey laughed, "You'd prefer if she had grey hair?"
"I'd prefer if she wasn't still just a girl."
"She is a woman flowered. I'd have thought you two would have married earlier if anything." Joffrey said confused.
"You wouldn't understand." And he wouldn't. Joffrey was Westerosi, actually Westerosi, and not some time-travelling multidimensional being.
Rhaenyra was too young to even get married where he came from, without parental consent. And in this world, your parents could marry you off as babies.
Maybe what was eating him up was the fact there were no real avenues for divorce available to him should their marriage sour. Maybe Lady Royce's recent 'accident' and probable murder, was making him worried about being assassinated by Daemon. Maybe he still felt guilty over Ser Gwayne's death and the fact he was still alive when the person he'd killed wasn't.
Would Laenor be able to keep up the act when sharing a bed with Rhaenyra? It was one thing to sing old love songs to girls and another to have sex with them.
"If you say so," Joffrey begrudgingly conceded.
"I do say so."
"Why aren't you waiting longer then?"
"Because the king demands it. Because my parents demand it. Because we have to start producing heirs to ensure Rhaenyra's succession. Take your pick."
His father was even more insistent than Rhaenyra's that they be wed. To finally see a crown on his son's head, even as a consort. To see his blood on the Iron Throne one day. Never mind the Sword of Damocles swinging over their heads. No, that was for Laenor to live in fear of.
They walked past a beggar, and Laenor threw a dragon in his cup.
"Seven blessings, milord."
A man would be daft to be a king when beggars live so well, came the familiar lyric to mind and he took a hefty swig of wine. Ah, that's more like it.
"You're most welcome."
"You wouldn't be the first person to enter a marriage unhappily and come out the other side smiling, and you have a betrothed who adores you, which is more than many could claim."
"It's not that I think I can't be happy with Rhaenyra, I just wish we had longer to enjoy ourselves. I want to go on adventures without worrying about my wife back home never seeing me again."
"You've just got cold feet."
Laenor scuffed his boots, "My feet are quite warm actually." And they were, he was feeling the warmth of the drink.
Joffrey laughed, "You're a sot, you know that?"
"In truth, I wish Rhaenyra wasn't the heir to the throne. Think how much easier that would be."
"You're just being selfish, Laenor," Joffrey scolded, "You will be an excellent king, you can change the entire realm forever. You have a duty to your family and the kingdoms to take up the mantle."
Laenor scoffed, "I know. I know. I'm getting married tomorrow, aren't I?"
"Just take solace in the fact you're doing something that needs must be done."
"Oh, thank you for reminding me, Joff, I'd nearly forgotten," he said facetiously, swallowing another drop of the white wine.
Joffrey took him by the arm and shoved him against a wall, "You are going to be king one day, Laenor, you may not like it, but your only chance of being happy is to accept it. Stop pouting and start smiling, you're getting something most men would kill for."
"Most men don't know what they're thinking."
"That is why it must be you. Most men think being king is a privilege, but you, you understand that it is your duty. It must be you."
Joffrey looked like he was about to kiss him, so Laenor slipped from his grip.
"Thank you, Joff, I understand," he said as he patted him on the shoulder.
He poured the rest of his wine on the ground and watched it pool into a little white puddle.
"And now my watch begins," he muttered, wrapping an arm around Joffrey and beginning the march back to the Red Keep.
"It is with great pleasure that His Grace, King Viserys announces the start of the royal wedding celebrations!" roared the Lord Commander.
Laenor was seated at the table in the hall alongside the royal family, his own family sitting next to him on the king's left. He was only a little hungover.
Rhaenyra looked beautiful in her dress, and the two of them were holding hands as they watched the lords of the realm and beyond be introduced, painstakingly one by one.
Now that the day had come, Laenor had taken Joffrey's advice to just grin and bear it with good grace.
Black lords and ladies from across the realm had come to witness their wedding. The lords of the Narrow Sea and the Crownlands, the Riverlords, Lord Rickon Stark and Lord Manderly. Lords Thaddeus Rowan and Alan Tarly from the Reach. His cousin Lord Boremund Baratheon and Rhaenyra's Lady Jeyne Arryn. Lord Jason Lannister was also in attendance, along with a smattering of greens, who he cared little about. Though Lord Hobert Hightower and Ser Harwin were conspicuously absent. Each lord had brought a retinue of at least a dozen bannermen and knights. In the typical fashion, competing among each other as to who could afford to bring more. The small halls throughout the city would be full of retainers today.
Along with them came many a foreigner from across the Narrow Sea, mostly allies of Father. The Sealord of Braavos, twenty-two magisters of Pentos, two of the three Lorathi Princes, the Prince of Koj from the Summer Isles and the Princess of the Isle of Women with their jet black skin and feathered cloaks, and even a Triarch of the Tiger party from Old Volantis.
They were calling it the Silver Wedding both on account of his sigil and to hark back to the Golden Wedding, Alyssa Velaryon's marriage to Rogar Baratheon, what had been the biggest ceremony in Westerosi history until today. Viserys wanted the occasion to be historic, to demonstrate that House Targaryen had never been stronger or wealthier. And with Velaryon support finally at their back, paying for half of it, that was nothing but true.
Soon they were receiving individual wedding gifts as was the custom in the Reach at the request of the queen, who had taken the opportunity to flaunt a deep green gown that had the court wagging its tongues in defiance of her father's dismissal and brother's death, no doubt. Today, it seemed, the battle lines had been drawn up and the factions marked. He could finally start using 'the Blacks & the Greens' in conversation.
Later they would receive more presents as a couple, but this morning's tokens were for each of them.
Rhaenyra was gifted dresses and jewels and jewellery from the lords and ladies assembled, by the end of it, she was covered head to toe in new jewels, each finger holding a new ring. She also received a Goldenheart bow from the Summer Islander Princess with a quiver full of yard-long arrows. The king gifted her a silver hairnet decorated with red rubies from Old Valyria, that she wore beautifully atop her head.
Laenor waved a hand and a suit of black scale armour edged with git bronze over gilded mail was brought forward as his gift to the princess.
Rhaenyra squealed in delight but was then aghast that she had not gotten him anything since that wasn't the custom.
He just laughed and whispered in her ear, "I heard that you're to give me a kiss later," and she blushed.
Laenor received a trove of gifts himself, among them: a weirwood bow from Lord Blackwood, and a black leather saddle from Lady Jeyne. A sea-green silk tourney pavilion from Lord Baratheon. Silver spurs from Ser Joffrey. A model of Wind Wyrm from his father, of a new ship being built in Hull, to his 'carrack' built specifications.
His favourite gift must have been Laena's, who'd gifted him 'The Fires of the Freehold' by Galendro, which she had brought back from Essos, including all sixty-six scrolls. It was the most complete history of Old Valryria in existence and Laenor already cherished it deeply.
"Thank you, sister, I love it," he murmured into her ear as she hugged him fiercely.
Laena was teary-eyed, no doubt crying tears of joy on his wedding day. "I love you, Laenor," she whispered in his ear as she kissed him on the cheek.
"I love you too," he told her, patting her on the back.
His sister broke the hug and laughed, "Don't mind me, I'm just being silly."
Before Laenor could ask if there was something wrong, Viserys had called the Lord Commander forward to bring his gift.
All the crowd quieted at the immediately recognizable item.
Viserys stood and was handed Blackfyre, who promptly passed it to him. "To the new Prince-Consort of Dragonstone and future Protector of the Realm."
Laenor pulled it from its ebony sheathe, the Valyrian steel was dark grey in colour, almost black, hence the name, with its distinctive rippled patterns that reminded him of Damascus steel. Its hilt was onyx dragonbone with a guard made in the shape of steel dragonheads and a ruby in the pommel. The blade was still as impossibly sharp as the day it had been forged.
It was a kingly gift. Daemon Blackfyre had become a claimant to the Iron Throne simply because he'd been given it by his father, Aegon the Unworthy.
It was an unmistakable symbol of legitimacy, freely given to Laenor by the king. Such a gift would bolster Rhaenyra's cause immensely. Viserys must be grateful indeed for being healed of his disease, and so he should since the king looked like a new man.
Laenor thanked Viserys profusely as did Rhaenyra who did so with tears in her eyes, "Blackfyre is meant for more honorable purposes than being an ornament and I am no warrior."
Mother and Father were gleaming at the gift of House Targaryen's ancestral sword. Father had already been preening like a peacock in its glory at having been named Lord Paramount of the Stepstones and Warden of the Narrow Sea. He was finally a de jure great lord beyond a de facto one.
Laenor could not tell who was more put out by the gift; Daemon or Alicent?
Viserys then launched into a speech about how fortuitous the match was, "Today we finally join the House of the Dragon back together..."
"With House Targaryen and House Velaryon, united. I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros." he finished.
The crowd applauded and Laenor lost himself in his reflection on Blackfyre, which made the event feel oh so real.
Today was the first day of his journey of being king one day. Rhaenyra patted him on the leg and gave him a reassuring smile.
He could only hope he proved worthy of the honour.
Laena
She caught a leaflet flying through the air, Laenor's printing press had made the written word something cheap enough to be thrown away.
Laena read the page proclaiming the royal marriage to the public. 'All are welcome! All are welcome! Come join the festivities at the Dragonpit in celebration of Princess Rhaenyra's wedding to Ser Laenor Velaryon! Come be part of history!" read the opening line in big bold print. She skimmed the rest of the page and read 'The price of fish has gone down by another three halfgroats likely due to the Velaryon fishing fleet being expanded', 'The Evenstar of Tarth defeated Lord Dondarrion at the tourney at Stonehelm', and 'Otto Hightower disgraced and forced to leave the capital for slandering Ser Laenor's good name, read more about it on the back'.
Laena scrunched up the paper and threw it to the ground at the mention of Otto Hightower. A part of her had wished that the former Hand had tried something so she could melt the Hightower and reduce the Starry Sept to cinders.
But Laenor had used his genius wit and knowledge of magic and turned the proceedings to their benefit, which hardly surprised her at all. Nothing surprised her about Laenor anymore.
Laena stood next to the Strong girls and Elinda Massey, in the Dragonpit, standing as bridesmaids to the princess as they awaited their arrival.
Rhaenyra and Laenor arrived on dragonback, the silver and bronze figures of Silverwing and Vermithor appearing in the sky to the delight of the crowd. Some fifty-thousand people had gathered in the Dragonpit to watch the wedding, it was supposedly the biggest such event in recorded history.
Gēliotīkun, Silverwing's true name in their mother tongue, looked resplendent as she landed and her little brother dismounted his dragon.
Vermithor looked less remarkable as he deposited the princess on the ground. 'The bride must stink of dragon' she thought to herself, even as the cheering crowd applauded their future queen.
She looked beautiful dressed in ivory silk and Myrish lace, her skirts decorated with dragon patterns picked out in seed pearl, wearing a maiden's cloak of red and black. But her beauty paled in comparison to Laenor, ever dashing, in a fine doublet of aquamarine that accentuated the violet of his eyes, looking regal with the Conqueror's sword on his hip.
The bridesmaids wore identical gowns of crimson and onyx.
Rhaenyra was so beautiful it hurt, with her gorgeous locks of silver-gold, beautiful purple eyes, and bountiful bosom...
As they approached the daises, tears began to run down Laena's cheeks, thankfully disguised by the fact that the other bridesmaids were likewise crying though for different reasons entirely, she was sure.
Laena Velaryon had a secret.
She hated Rhaenyra Targaryen.
The empty-headed cunt that had stolen both her birthright and her beloved.
For Laena loved her little brother, more than the Faith thought a sister ought to. Like a true Targaryen.
Laenor was supposed to be king and her his queen, like the Old King and the Good Queen, like Aegon and Visenya. They were meant to rule the Seven Kingdoms. But because their mother had been born a woman, that disgrace Viserys and his insipid whelp had usurped their place.
Now, Laenor was forced to marry the bitch just to restore what was rightfully his.
And so Laena hated her.
She had loved Laenor since he first drew breath, and over the years had come to fall in love with him. It had been Laenor who'd convinced Father not to marry her off to the Sealord's wastrel son. It had been Laenor who'd mounted Silverwing and helped her bring Vhagar to heel. It had been Laenor who'd sung to her such beautiful music that made her heart weep. It was Laenor who was her beloved brother, not Rhaenyra's...
It was ancient Valyrian custom to wed sisters and brothers together. That way their blood would be kept pure. Such a thing only mattered more in this realm of half-breed Andals and First Men.
Had the Queen Who Never Was been made queen in truth, she likely would have wed her little brother.
Now they'd been displaced and even House Velaryon was forced to bend the knee to the usurper Viserys and even his Reacher whore. Laena had once lived in fear of having to marry Viserys herself, but Laenor has assured her that the king wanted someone older.
They should have killed Viserys when they had the chance, when Vhagar, Silverwing, Meleys, and mayhaps even Caraxes could take to the skies and defeat Vermithor and seize the Iron Throne that was theirs by right of birth and blood.
Laenor was born to be king. It was plain for anyone and everyone to see that he was all that Viserys was not. A great warrior, a great poet, an unparalleled genius. He was Aegon the Conqueror come again, and she was meant to be his Visenya.
Yet because mother lacked a cock, he'd been passed over for Viserys the Weak.
His loss at the Great Council was a disgrace to the realm, sometimes she wondered if her brother had not won in truth and the Old King had not simply lied to confirm his wanted heir, given how he'd already passed over mother for the sake of the Spring Prince.
Yes, she wished that she'd been given the chance to burn Oldtown and start their war against the pretenders on the throne. To win the Iron Throne back by right of conquest.
Vhagar was roaring something awful as Laenor finally reached the daises, he gave her a questioning look and she just winked at him.
It would not do for Laenor to know her feelings. He would not go against their parent's wishes. He was too filial a son and had spent too much time forced to court that insipid little wretch of his.
Rhaenyra approached them, and her father took her by the arm and led her the rest of the way.
The look she gave her brother, made Laena's stomach turn.
The High Septon led the ceremony, giving a short sermon on the virtues of marriage and how love was a gift from the Seven.
Laena considered feeding the man to Vhagar.
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."
Viserys pulled the maiden's cloak off her with a flourish and a grin.
Her brother stood behind his betrothed tall and strong, swept the sea-green cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kissed her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp.
"The love of the Seven is holy and eternal. The source of life and love. We stand here today in thanks and praise, to join two souls as one." said the High Septon with a crystal crown atop his head, almost swaying in the breeze.
"Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows."
"I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come." her brother started, looking deeply into Rhaenyra's eyes.
"I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come." her new sister-in-law repeated.
"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband."
"With this kiss, I pledge my love," Laenor replied, "and take you for my lady and wife." he leaned forward, and their lips melted together.
The High Septon raised his crystal high, so the light refracted into a rainbow and fell upon them. "Here in the sight of gods and men," he said, "I do solemnly proclaim Laenor of House Velaryon and Rhaenyra of House Targaryen to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them."
Laenor and Rhaenyra joined hands and raised their arms to the crowd, to the roaring cheers of the multitudes below them.
And Laena wiped the tears from her eyes.
Everyone gathered to watch the mock sea battle taking place on Blackwater Bay.
Targaryen and Velaryon ships were boarding and seizing ships that bore the emblem of Triarchy.
The smallfolk had not seen such a like since the Golden Wedding, those old enough to remember such a thing, and those were precious few indeed.
People cheered Father for putting on such a grand display, it only reminded Laena of the war and brought her little joy, though Laenor and Rhaenyra seemed quite taken by it.
A tourney followed, and seven rounds of tilts began.
Laena scarce paid any attention to it, except that none could withstand Prince Daemon.
Before she could notice what was happening, Daemon appeared lance in hand, placing a laurel of flowers in her lap.
"To the Queen of Love and Beauty," Daemon declared.
"Huzzah!" cheered Laenor and her heart swelled.
Rhaenyra took her hand and called her sister, congratulating her.
Laena hazarded a smile to Daemon who returned it in force. Laenor hold told her that Daemon likely had a hand in his wife's death, but Laena could scarcely imagine how he could orchestrate a hunting accident. She did know that his petition to Lady Jeyne for the fiefdom of Runestone had gone poorly.
She placed the laurel crown on her head, and watched Laenor, imagining that she was his Queen of Love and Beauty.
The wedding feast was a grand affair, with seventy-seven dishes planned for dinner.
There also came a host of entertainment, Pentoshi tumblers, pipers, and pyromancers. Sword swallowers and singers. Mushroom juggling and carrying on with his usual foolish antics. And of course, a dancing bear.
Laena picked at the roast duck on her plate, while she drank deeply of her cup.
"What's wrong, sweetling?" asked her mother. "You've barely touched your food."
"Nothing, nothing," she answered, "I'm saving my appetite for something sweeter."
The Princess Rhaenys did not look convinced but dropped the subject.
"It was a lovely ceremony, was it not?"
'No, it was a terrible farce.' thought Laena, but said "Yes, indeed," out loud.
Laenor and Rhaenyra opened the floor to the dance, and Laena thought she might wretch at their closeness, making it an entirely different dance.
Laena could not stand to watch them any longer.
Father suggested she go dance herself, and she was quick to rise from her chair and join in the dance.
Prince Daemon narrowed in on her like a dragon to its prey, and with but a nod he sent the man she'd been dancing with running for the hills.
"Has anyone ever told you you're nearly as pretty as your brother?"
Laena laughed, "Hmm, well, you flatter me, my prince."
She danced around him, "I was sorry to hear about your lady wife."
He stood still, "Don't be, I wasn't. The lady was never very kind to me."
"You're a Targaryen prince, a dashing knight, and a dragonrider. You appear to be every young maiden's dream." she danced languidly in front of him.
'Except mine'.
"That's simply because you don't know me yet."
No, she doubted anyone really knew Daemon Targaryen, but she was interested to learn.
"Perhaps, that is something we might remedy, my prince."
He turned from her and began to walk back to the royal table, "Perhaps it is."
The ceremonial pie arrived, served by seven cooks.
Laenor, who looked every bit the king with Blackfyre in hand, cut it open and allowed the doves inside to fly free.
She watched as Laenor fed a piece to Rhaenyra and Laena wished she'd choke on the bird shit.
"What do you think of Prince Daemon?" asked her father.
'I think you want me to marry him' she nearly said, but settled for "He's a dragonrider, that's all that matters."
Mother hummed, and father smiled. Yes, it was best kept at that. Let them think little Laena only cared for flying and seldom little else.
There were worse options than Daemon. With Daemon her children could be dragonriders, with Daemon their blood would be kept pure, with Daemon she could remain close to Laenor... either on Driftmark or Dragonstone or King's Landing.
Laenor stood and approached a band of bards, he turned to Rhaenyra, "For you, my love."
He sang into a cone that made his voice ring out, loud enough that the entire hall could hear him sing.
"Years from now, I'll want you years from now. And I'll hold you years from now, as I love you tonight."
Laena closed her eyes and imagined that Laenor was singing to her.
"You are my one true friend, always my one true friend. And I'll love you 'till life's end, as I love you tonight."
It was easy to imagine they were both children back on Driftmark, waiting for the ship to come to take them to Harrenhal to present his claim to the realm. He'd been her only true friend and she knew she was his.
Rhaenyra who?
"I know this world that we live in can be hard now and then. And it will be again, many times we've been down."
Yes, it was easy to imagine that it was Laena he was singing a beautiful love song to.
"Still love has kept us together, the flame never dies. When I look in your eyes, the future I see."
It was easy to imagine her future with her brother, bearing his children and flying together to the ends of the world.
"Wanting you years from now, and holding you years from now. And loving you years from now, as I love you tonight!"
It was easy to imagine that tonight was her wedding night and she was soon to bed her husband.
Until Laenor's song finished and he spoke to Rhaenyra again "Thank you, my love, for marrying me and making all my dreams come true."
Rhaenyra was starry-eyed and weeping at the end of the song, as were all the young maidens in the hall, and she was sure quite a few men were jealous of her brother.
None could be more romantic, not even Florian the Fool.
Life wasn't fair. She rode the largest dragon, she had loved him the longest, and she was his blood, yet tonight he was not hers.
"The bedding!" a cry went up, and the lords and ladies of the realm began to descend like locusts on the married couple.
Laena marched over to Laenor, pushing whatever stragglers out of the way.
She had not seen her brother naked in years and meant to tonight if no other night.
Her hands joined the mass of hands tearing at her brother's clothes as he laughed nervously.
He had little to be nervous about.
Nude he looked like a Valyrian statue carved out of marble, his pale skin like porcelain toned with lithe muscles. Daemon was right, he was far prettier than her.
She swatted away a greedy hand reaching for his member and helped lift him in the air, making sure to have pride of place.
Rhaenyra for her part was giggling as the men tried and failed to tear the chain mail links she had worn to prevent the lords and knights present from grasping at her like a prized mule.
She could respect Rhaenyra for that much at least. At least she loved her brother. If she were a whore, Laena would have torn the heart out of her chest.
They carried the couple to their rooms, with rude japes being said all the while, and deposited the pair in their bed, nestling the two together beneath the sheets.
Rhaenyra slid the chain mail shirt off her head and Laenor threw it to the ground and bid them all leave.
Laena got the chance to whisper in his ear "Close your eyes, and think of Driftmark," before she exited and delighted in his laughter.
She could not bear to stand next to the door and listen to the courtiers shout suggestions, she instead made her way back to her rooms, where she closed her eyes and dreamt of Driftmark and her brother in all his glory.
Soon it would be her turn to marry, and she hoped at least one day their children would wed, that her blood would finally mix with Laenor's and sit on the Iron Throne.
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Oh snap, Laena has a brother complex. Don't worry, it's supposed to be odd. I know it's an anime trope, but I think it makes sense with her being a Targaryen and Laenor being unworldly impressive. I wanted to add another dimension to her character beyond 'She liked flying more than boys'.
Poll: So people seemed to have liked Laena's POV a lot and are sad she's not with Laenor, I've decided to leave it up to the audience if they think Laena should be with Laenor, and whether it should be as his mistress or polygamous sister-wife. So be sure to go to my profile page and vote, or just leave your vote in a review.