Bloodstone
"So you're saying that willpower plays as much a role as intent and wand movements?" Laenor asked, intrigued.
"Aye," Daemon nodded, the gesture firm, like a man certain of his words. "I don't know if it's the same with water spells, but in fire, willpower is just as crucial as every other part you taught me. Both for conjuring and controlling the flames—something I've come to learn well over the past week."
And wasn't that interesting? It had been a week since Daemon had thrown himself wholeheartedly into fire magic, declaring himself a Fire Mage with his usual flare for dramatics. Though he hadn't yet created a dozen spells, Daemon had succeeded in crafting one—the fireball spell Laenor had first suggested after giving him his wand. That, in itself, was impressive. It proved Daemon had a high affinity for fire. After all, creating even a single working spell within a week wasn't something just anyone could manage.
"So," Daemon said, swirling the wine in his goblet, "how fares your water magic?"
Laenor scoffed, "I've already created twelve spells. My affinity for water is so absurdly high, it's almost laughable. The only reason I'm still bothering to create more is because of my family."
Laenor had planned to return to Driftmark days ago, but his father had gotten wind of his success in crafting magical foci and had arrived at Dragon's Forge before Laenor could leave. After receiving his wand, his father had been attempting to cast Water Blast ever since—and requested that Laenor stay until he succeeded, so they could return to Driftmark together.
Laenor had asked why, but his father merely gave him a blank look, offering no answer. And while Laenor could have ignored the command (veiled thinly as a request), he hadn't. And now, he was stuck here.
Then Daemon had decided he would return to Westeros with them, at least whenever they make their way back home, claiming Viserys might just make his way here if he did not return with them. Laenor had been shocked to learn that Viserys had sent over a hundred summons demanding Daemon return to King's Landing. Daemon, in typical fashion, had ignored them all. It might not have happened in any other timeline other than theirs. But here, the growing popularity of both Daemon has changed him over time—Laenor could already see Daemon's arrogance inflating by the day.
"I truly envy House Velaryon," Daemon muttered, voice low and rough. He shook his head and downed the wine in one long gulp.
Before Laenor could respond, the chamber doors opened, and in walked his father—Lord Corlys Velaryon—with a look of self-satisfaction that barely stopped short of a smirk. He strode in confidently, took the seat across from Daemon, and said with clear amusement in his voice, "Did I hear that correctly, or has my son created a sound illusion spell? Because the Daemon Targaryen I know would never admit envy of another house, even one as noble as our own."
Daemon growled, though his face soon went blank. "I won't deny it. I said it. Though that envy doesn't come from your family's magical talent—Laenor being the lone exception. Tell me, do you think you'll manage to cast a spell this year, or should we send word to Driftmark that Laenor's return might take several?"
Laenor watched the light fade from his father's eyes, replaced by that carefully crafted mask he wore in court and council. "Be that as it may," Corlys replied calmly, "I pray to the Fourteen Flames that I don't turn into a mindless beast raging at everything in sight when I do cast my first spell. We wouldn't want a repeat of such a shameful display, would we?" He then turned to Laenor, his tone unreadable. "What say you, son?"
Laenor sighed and shook his head. "Why must you two always try to one-up each other?" he muttered, cutting off what was surely a biting retort from Daemon. "Now, Father, would you mind telling me why you're here and not training to cast your spell?"
His father, instead of answering Laenor's question directly, drew his wand and began performing the wand movements Laenor knew all too well. "Vysagon," Corlys said firmly.
A powerful blast of water erupted from the wand and struck the black wall of Daemon's keep. The stone, said to be harder than diamond, now bore minor cracks where the water blast had collided.
"Corlys, you old snake," Daemon muttered, glaring at Laenor's father. "You could've just simply said you can cast a spell now. Did you really need to show off in my room?"
"Where's the fun in that, Daemon? Where's the fun in that?" Corlys replied with an amused glint in his eye.
Laenor raised an eyebrow, amused himself, though he could see Daemon didn't appreciate the remark—especially since he stood up, likely ready to respond.
"I'll show you fun—"
"For the love of the dragons, the two of you behave like children," Laenor cut in, rolling his eyes. "But I won't be disturbing your duel of egos any longer. Father, you asked me to wait until you could cast a spell. You've done that now, so tomorrow morning, first thing—I'm leaving for Driftmark."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Corlys said, smiling. "I gave instructions to Vaemond on my way here. He's preparing the Sea Snake for our departure tomorrow."
Laenor nodded, visibly pleased, even as his father continued, "I apologize for the selfish request, son. I thank you for indulging it. I know how badly you wanted to return home, how much you miss your mother and sister. That's why the first thing I did after succeeding with the spell was to find Vaemond and ready our departure."
"I'm glad you did," Laenor said. "But I'm not sailing with you—I'll be swimming to Driftmark."
That drew a blink from both men.
"Why not fly on the back of your dragon?" Daemon asked. "Caraxes and I could even accompany you. I intend to stop by Dragonstone before returning to King's Landing."
"There are a few reasons," Laenor replied. "Chief among them is speed. I can reach Driftmark much faster by swimming than by riding Embaryx. And, to be honest, I've had the idea of swimming back home in my head since I first sailed here aboard Father's ship."
He loved his dragon dearly—they flew together every day. But if there was a large body of water between him and his destination, he preferred the sea. Swimming wasn't just faster; it felt natural, effortless… and fun. Meeting new marine life and making his way there while swimming and racing with them is fun and something Laenor enjoys. Not to mention, the water was his domain. Ever since his powers had evolved past a certain threshold, he found another home there; a vast sea was his home. A home that could cause untold destruction if he wills it so.
"Very well," Corlys said with a nod. "I hope you travel there safely."
Laenor smirked, "You should get back to your practice—try to make that blast larger and more potent. That way, you can really shock and awe Mother and Laena."
A flicker of embarrassment passed over his father's face, quickly hidden behind a practiced mask. Before Daemon could seize on it and mock him in return, Corlys muttered a farewell and made a swift exit.
"Well," Laenor said, stretching slightly, "I'm off to work on a new spell to pass the time. I'm sure we'll see each other soon, Daemon. After all, I'm sure King Viserys will want to meet me soon enough. I'll bet my dragonsteel sword that a raven will arrive on the same day—or the day after—I return to Driftmark, demanding I present myself in King's Landing."
Laenor chuckled as he turned to leave the chamber, and a single snort from Daemon followed him out. He made his way toward the Forge. If he truly meant to leave before sunrise, he'd best speak to Robb Storm now. The man was an excellent blacksmith—but not an early riser. And Laenor would rather not slip away without saying goodbye.
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