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10
They were interrupted by quick footsteps and a boyish yelp.
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. He yanked on his breeches then reached for Dark Sister, just as a slight figure skidded down a nearby dune. It was a pale boy with even paler hair, cursing quietly as he picked himself up from the sand.
Aemond Targaryen dusted off his clothes, looked up, and blinked in confusion. He frowned at Daemon, who was clad only in unbuttoned breeches, then at Rhaenyra, who was frantically clutching the nearest garment to shield her modesty. Realization swiftly dawned upon the boy’s face. He wrinkled his nose and curled his lip in disdain, which gave him a remarkable resemblance to his uppity mother.
“Are you lost, Nephew?” Daemon conspicuously tapped his fingers on Dark Sister’s hilt.
As Aemond stared at Daemon’s sword, the scorn in his face was replaced by caution. Good, Daemon thought. He wanted the boy to be very, very afraid of the consequences should he tattle about what he had seen tonight. Otto and his daughter would leap upon the opportunity to besmirch Rhaenyra’s reputation.
“Now, why are you out here when it’s so obviously past your bedtime?” Daemon asked as he took a slow step forward. He wouldn’t put it past Otto to use his grandchildren as spies.
Instantly, Aemond crouched in a defensive stance. Daemon grudgingly appreciated that the boy’s first instinct was to fight rather than flee. It was a foolish instinct, though. As far as Daemon could tell, Aemond possessed no weapon.
“You’re rather quiet,” Daemon remarked. “I suppose you know what happens to little boys with loose tongues?” He moved his hand from his sword and unsheathed his dagger instead.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra protested. Daemon made the mistake of glancing at her.
A fistful of sand was flung into Daemon’s eyes. He sputtered and furiously spat the grains out of his mouth as he rapidly blinked. By the time he regained his vision, Aemond was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m going to kill him,” Daemon growled.
“If you weren’t so needlessly hostile, we could have resolved this amicably!” Rhaenyra cried. “Aemond is close to my daughters. I could have reasoned with him—”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Daemon retorted.
“Because you were busy waving your sword around!” Rhaenyra pressed a hand to her forehead. “Right, then. We can still fix this. We just need to find Aemond, and I will do the talking.”
“Fine!” Daemon put his dagger away. “Where did the boy go, anyway?”
“He ran that way.” Rhaenyra pointed.
Daemon stared in the direction she indicated. “That way? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed. “Why do you seem so concerned?”
“That’s where Vhagar is!” Swearing viciously, Daemon sprinted after his opportunist nephew while Rhaenyra hurried behind him.
9 & 8
They were interrupted by a familiar voice screeching, “Father?”
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. That was indeed Baela’s voice he had recognized, and to his increasing horror, Rhaena was there too. Both of his daughters appeared just as horrified. Rhaena raised her hands to cover her eyes. Baela looked like she wanted to throw up.
Daemon hurriedly threw on his shirt and breeches while Rhaenyra scrambled for her own clothes. As the twins watched them dress, their shock gradually wore off. Soon Baela’s face flushed with anger, and tears filled Rhaena’s eyes.
“What are you two doing out here?” Daemon demanded before either girl could speak. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
Baela let out an incredulous laugh that sounded more than a bit hysterical. Rhaena said, sniffling, “We wanted to say goodbye to Mother.”
Guilt washed over Daemon. As usual, he strove to ignore the uncomfortable sensation. “Even so, you shouldn’t be out here. It’s dangerous at night.”
“Dangerous?” Baela echoed, voice strained. “Why? Do you think we’ll find a naked old man fucking someone on the beach right after his wife’s funeral? That would be ludicrous.”
Daemon looked at Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra wordlessly looked back at him, silently conveying that she expected him to handle his children. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Baela,” Daemon said, scowling. And he was not old.
“Oh. You don’t appreciate my tone? Because it’s disrespectful? You wouldn’t want anyone acting disrespectful on the night of Mother’s funeral, would you, Father?” Baela kicked a heap of sand. Some of the grains landed on Daemon.
Rhaena quietly hiccuped as she tugged Baela’s sleeve. “Let’s go back inside, Baela.”
Baela’s fury abated as she looked at her sister. “We haven’t seen Mother yet.”
“I think Mother will understand.” Blinking away tears, Rhaena looked in Daemon’s direction, although she didn’t make eye contact. She started to say something, but then she just shook her head and walked away. Baela glared at Daemon one last time before stomping after Rhaena.
When they were alone again, Rhaenyra awkwardly cleared her throat. “I suppose we could have waited a bit longer.”
Daemon dropped his head into his hands and sighed deeply. Then his head snapped up again when a terrifying thought struck him. “Baela, Rhaena! Wait!” He sprang to his feet and ran after his daughters. “Don’t tell your grandmother!”
7
They were interrupted by what, at first glance, seemed to be a ghost drifting past them.
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but he could be forgiven for mistaking the silver-haired figure, clad all in white, for a specter. Helaena Targaryen continued ambling down the beach as if there was nothing extraordinary about catching her half-sister and her uncle in amorous congress.
Daemon had paid Helaena only the briefest attention during the funeral. Once he determined that the quiet girl was most likely harmless, albeit preoccupied with insects, he proceeded to ignore her. But it would be the height of foolishness to simply allow Helaena to continue on her way.
“Helaena!” Rhaenyra called out once she had thrown on her rumpled gown. “Helaena, stop!”
Helaena paused and turned around. Her gaze was distant as she looked at some point over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, although there was only the sea behind Rhaenyra. “Stop what?” asked Helaena.
“Stop walking,” Rhaenyra answered as she and Daemon closed the distance to Helaena.
“I have stopped walking,” said Helaena.
“Yes, I can see that.” Rhaenyra forced a smile. “Why are you outside?”
“I am following a sea moth.”
“A sea moth,” Daemon repeated in disbelief. Surely the girl could have come up with dozens of better excuses.
“It is a moth that dwells by the sea,” Helaena explained patiently.
Daemon revised his opinion of Helaena: she was either mad or an idiot. “I surmised as much by its name,” he said dryly, then affected a deliberately light tone. “Princesses oughtn’t wander alone at night. You never know who might be waiting for you in the shadows.”
Helaena’s eyes seemed to clear as she focused on Daemon. “There are no suns to choose,” she said gravely.
Definitely mad, Daemon decided. Still using his falsely light tone, he said, “Will you allow Rhaenyra and me the privilege of escorting you back to the castle?”
“No thank you,” said Helaena.
“It wasn’t a request,” said Daemon.
“But you phrased it like a request.”
Once again, Daemon revised his opinion of Helaena: mad and an idiot. “We will escort you and see you safely to bed,” he said firmly. He and Rhaenyra would ensure that Helaena took no detours to her mother or grandfather, who would be most interested in hearing what Helaena had witnessed.
“Very well, if you insist. But there’s no rush,” Helaena said kindly. “I feel bad for interrupting you two. I’ll give you a moment to finish.”
Rhaenyra coughed into her fist. “Er, no need for that.”
“Oh, don’t mind me! I promise not to listen,” Helaena hastened to assure them. “I’m sure it won’t take very long, anyway.”
6
They were interrupted by a squeaky battle cry and charging footsteps.
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. He grunted when a small body hurtled into him and began pummeling his chest with their little fists. There wasn’t much strength behind their blows. Annoyed rather than pained, Daemon gripped his diminutive attacker by their waist and wrested them off of his torso.
Lucera Velaryon continued trying to kick him. “Mother, run!” she hollered. “I’ll hold him off!”
Rhaenyra yanked on her shift and reached for Lucera. “Lucera, stop that! What are you doing?”
“I’m saving you, Mother!” Lucera managed to land a kick near Daemon’s kidney. Wincing, he adjusted his grip so her short limbs couldn’t reach him. “He was on top of you and hurting you, and you were screaming!”
“Crone’s wrinkled tits,” Daemon muttered. He unceremoniously dropped Lucera. The sand cushioned her fall, but she squawked indignantly nonetheless. “Rhaenyra, she’s your child. You tell her.”
As Daemon dressed, Rhaenyra knelt beside her daughter. She firmly grasped Lucera’s arm so Lucera didn’t try to attack Daemon again. “Luce, Daemon wasn’t hurting me,” Rhaenyra said uncomfortably. “We were…emotional after the funeral, so we were…embracing.”
“Embracing?” Lucera repeated, puzzled. “On the ground? Without your clothes? Even though it’s cold at night?”
Rhaenyra’s left eye twitched. “You will understand when you’re older. Now, why are you out here by yourself after dark?”
“Aemond said he had a ‘very big surprise’ so I was looking for him, but I found you and Uncle Daemon instead,” Lucera said, then continued in the same breath, “If you were just embracing Uncle Daemon, why were you screaming?”
“I wasn’t screaming, I was—” Rhaenyra inhaled sharply then said emphatically, “I wasn’t screaming.”
“Yes, you were! You were doing this.” Lucera cleared her throat and made a sound that no ten-year-old should ever make.
Paling, Rhaenyra practically shouted, “Lucera Velaryon, never do that again!”
“Why not?” asked Lucera.
“It is inappropriate.”
“But you were making that sound, Mother.”
“Yes, well—” Rhaenyra floundered. “I am a grown woman, and you are not.”
“So I can make that sound when I am grown?” asked Lucera.
“No! I mean—you can, but only with your husband.”
“Uncle Daemon isn’t your husband,” Lucera pointed out. Then her brow creased in thought. “Does that mean you make that sound with Father?”
“…Yes,” Rhaenyra lied.
Daemon chuckled as he finished dressing. Lucera’s determined inquisitiveness reminded him of another young princess. Like mother, like daughter.
“Alright.” Lucera seemed satisfied with her mother’s answers, but then: “So when I grow up and marry Aemond, will I make that sound with Aemond?”
Daemon stopped laughing. “Aemond? Do you mean Aemond Targaryen?” he demanded.
“Of course I mean Aemond Targaryen,” Lucera replied. “Is there another Aemond?”
“You aren’t marrying Aemond Targaryen,” Daemon ordered.
Lucera stomped her feet in the sand. “I am going to marry Aemond! And we’re going to make grown-up sounds together, and we’re going to do grown-up things like embrace on the ground without our clothes even when it’s cold outside, and you can’t stop me!”
Daemon buried his face in his hands as he seriously reconsidered his burgeoning plan to marry Rhaenyra. Marrying Rhaenyra would mean dealing with this for the rest of his life.
5 & 4
They were interrupted by a sudden chill along their spines as they sensed somebody watching them.
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. Rhaenyra was also visibly spooked as she looked around wildly. They both spotted their observer—rather, observers—at the same time. Joff, Rhaenyra’s youngest daughter, was squinting thoughtfully at them while Daeron, the queen’s youngest child, was staring wide-eyed with his mouth open.
When Daeron realized their presence had been detected, he belatedly raised his hands over his eyes. “I didn’t see anything!” he squealed.
“Joff! You two shouldn’t be here,” Rhaenyra cried as she hastily covered herself.
Unfazed by their nudity, Joff asked, “Was Uncle Daemon putting his sword in your sheath, Mother?”
Seven Hells, Daemon wished he’d drunk more wine earlier.
Rhaenyra rose to her feet, trying to appear stern as she straightened her clothes. “You and Daeron should have gone to bed hours ago. Why are you out here?”
“I want to collect some of Tyraxes’s poop,” Joff said with all the seriousness that a six-year-old could muster, which for her was quite a lot. “Mother, isn’t it uncomfortable when someone puts his sword in your sheath?”
“I didn’t see anything!” Daeron wailed again, still covering his eyes.
“Why do you want Tyraxes’s poop?” Daemon asked, curious despite the circumstances.
“That doesn’t matter,” Rhaenyra snapped. “What matters is that Joff and Daeron are wandering in the dark when they should be tucked in bed, sound asleep like good children.”
“I fed a coin to a pig, then Tyraxes ate the pig. I want to see if the coin is in his poop,” Joff informed Daemon. “Uncle Daemon, why were you facing Mother when you put your sword in her sheath? When animals do it, the male is always behind the female.”
“I didn’t see anything!” Daeron sounded like he was on the verge of bursting into tears. Honestly, Daemon sympathized with him.
3 & 2
They were interrupted by girlish giggles and a hushed voice saying, “Here, this looks nice and private.”
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. The interlopers’ commotion gave enough forewarning for Rhaenyra to grab a cloak and scramble behind Daemon. She was mostly hidden from sight when two figures came into view.
“Uhhh,” said Aegon Targaryen while Jacaera Velaryon let out a nervous squeak. “I see you’ve already claimed this spot, Uncle. We’ll find someplace else.”
A piercing shriek almost punctured Daemon’s eardrum. “JACE?” Rhaenyra stalked forward, heedless of the fact that she was clad only in a sandy cloak.
“Mother!” Jacaera cried, sounding choked.
“You had better explain why you’re out here with Aegon of all people!”
Jacaera looked at Rhaenyra then at Daemon, taking in their unclothed states. Her nostrils flared as she drew back her shoulders. “And why are you out here with Daemon of all people, Mother?”
“I asked you first,” Rhaenyra said mulishly.
“I will not be chastised for an innocent stroll when you are f… You are f…” Jacaera, well-mannered girl that she was, struggled to utter the next word.
“Fucking? Fornicating?” Daemon suggested helpfully. Rhaenyra glowered at him, not appreciating his helpfulness.
“Forsaking your marriage vows to my father!” Jacaera finished shrilly.
“My marriage concerns only Laenor and me, nobody else,” Rhaenyra dismissed. “As for you and Aegon, I doubt his intentions are as innocent as you—”
“That isn’t true and you know it! Your marriage is a matter of state, and your behavior reflects upon us, your daughters—”
As mother and daughter descended into a squabble, Daemon reached for his clothes. He feigned nonchalance as he dressed, although he kept a keen eye on Aegon, who was hovering uncertainly to the side. When Aegon realized he was being watched, Daemon gave him a sharp smile and said, “And what were you planning to do with Jacaera, Nephew?”
Aegon paled. His eyes flickered from Jacaera to Daemon. Then, in an admittedly masterful act of mummery, he donned an innocent expression that might have fooled Daemon if he didn’t know any better. “Nothing that you wouldn’t do with your own niece, Uncle,” Aegon said with a guileless smile.
Daemon drew his sword.
“Daemon, no!” Rhaenyra smacked his hand. “Put that away!”
Daemon pointed angrily at Aegon. “This reprobate just admitted his intention to deflower your daughter!”
Aegon feigned shock. “I thought we were discussing your intentions, Uncle. Do you have something to confess? I thought I heard tales of a brothel back in the day.”
Rhaenyra looked like she was reconsidering her directive for Daemon to put his sword away. “Baseless slander,” she said tersely. “Aegon, I have never thought highly of your scruples, yet somehow you manage to disappoint me. Have you forgotten that you are betrothed?”
“Have you forgotten that you’re married?” Aegon retorted.
“I think we have all quarreled long enough.” Jacaera took hold of Aegon’s hand. When Rhaenyra glared at their joined hands, Jacaera lifted her chin and said, “Mother, I know you do not wish to be the subject of malicious gossip. Aegon and I promise not to speak of what we saw tonight.”
Aegon looked sidelong at her but didn’t object.
Rhaenyra began, “Thank you, Jace—”
“In exchange,” Jacaera continued, voice pitching higher with nerves, “please inform the king that you have changed your mind, and you would like to betroth me to Aegon after all. Elsewise I cannot guarantee that my grandmother will not hear an unpleasant rumor about her son’s wife.”
Despite himself, Daemon was impressed. He had not expected the demure girl to be capable of blackmail.
Judging by the way Rhaenyra’s jaw fell, she was just as stunned.
“What she said,” Aegon said happily.
1
They were interrupted by someone pointedly clearing their throat.
Alarmed, Daemon pulled away and shot up to a sitting position. His dread grew when he found himself frozen in place by Rhaenys’s icy glare.
“Rhaenys!” Rhaenyra hurried to protect her modesty. “We weren’t—we were just—”
“Not now. I’ll speak with you later, Rhaenyra,” said Rhaenys, never looking away from Daemon. “Daemon, remind me how many hours have passed since we put Laena to rest?”
Daemon felt like he was once again a young boy being lectured by his older cousin for whatever mischief he had committed. He didn’t enjoy the feeling. “Rhaenys, it has been a difficult day—”
Rhaenys surged forward and slammed her hands over Daemon’s ears. The sound of pain that he made was rather embarrassing.
“Father Above’s uptight arse,” he mumbled, clutching his ringing head. “You can’t just box my ears like that, Rhaenys!”
“What are you going to do about it? Tattle to Viserys?” Rhaenys replied waspishly. “I’m sure he would be delighted to hear about what you two were doing here.”
Daemon bristled. “You wouldn’t tattle to Viserys either.” Rhaenys had never been a snitch. Then again, the stakes weren’t so high when they were children.
“No, I shan’t, because Baela and Rhaena don’t deserve to be fatherless as well as motherless.” Rhaenys’s lip curled. “Little good their father does for them.”
“I take offense to—ahhh!” Daemon yelped when Rhaenys grabbed his ear and twisted it painfully.
Without releasing Daemon’s ear, Rhaenys said to Rhaenyra, “When the king departs from Driftmark, I suggest you return with him to King’s Landing and focus on your duties at court. Your daughters may stay here with Corlys and me for some time. I would like to take a more active role in their education, and they can keep their cousins company. Baela and Rhaena will be under my guardianship while Daemon returns to Pentos. I imagine he will require, hm, three moons to complete his business there?”
Daemon protested, “I’m not leaving my—ahhh!” Rhaenys twisted his ear harder.
“Laenor, being a devoted husband, will of course remain at Rhaenyra’s side,” Rhaenys added offhandedly. “Because we are a family who all support each other, and we would not engage in any foolish behavior that would blacken our reputations in the eyes of the realm. Are we not?”
There was nothing Daemon and Rhaenyra could do except agree.
Rhaenys offered a cold smile. “I am so glad that my children have such faithful, dutiful spouses.” Then she twisted Daemon’s ear again.
“Ahhh!” He finally managed to jerk his head out of her pincer-like grip. “I didn’t say anything that time!”
“No, I did that simply for the pleasure of it.” Rhaenys’s smile became more genuine. “I bid you both goodnight. Daemon, I recommend that you wash yourself before bed. You have sand on your buttocks.”