High Tide, Driftmark
Laenor emerged from the sea as dry as he had entered it. The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, and darkness crept across the waters. High Tide—the seat his father had built for him and his descendants, with its pale stone and silver roofs—gleamed like a beacon in the gloom.
He had departed Bloodstone before sunrise and now, by nightfall, he had reached Driftmark. That was fast—very fast. Had he chosen to ride Embaryx, he would have arrived around or after the hour of the nightingale, not this early.
Pulling himself from his wandering thoughts—and forcing himself to stop gawking at the seat that would one day be his—Laenor strode toward the painted doors of the keep. The pale red doors opened the moment a guard on duty noticed a massive hand of water rise from the sea and wave toward the gate, pointing at Laenor.
The guard didn't even bother checking. Only one man in the known world can control water like that from their point of view. Technically, Laenor's father could now do so too—thanks to the wand—but none of the guards knew that. Not yet. Maybe in four or five days, when his father arrived by ship, they would.
"Where are my mother and sister?" Laenor asked the man stationed at the entrance to the Hall of High Tide.
"They're taking supper in the family quarters, Lord Laenor," the man answered, bowing his head with a respectful look of near-reverence.
Laenor smiled and clapped him on the shoulder before heading toward the family wing. He stopped the guard from running to his mother and announcing his return—he wanted to see the look on their faces when they saw him after more than three years.
Soon, he arrived at the private dining quarters of House Velaryon. The guards at the door gawked at him the same way as all the others—wide-eyed, stunned. Laenor had expected at least a little fear or wariness, considering his powers, but it seemed he'd underestimated both his mother's administrative skill and the loyalty of their retainers. With no further hesitation, he pushed open the doors and stepped inside with a broad grin, calling out, "Surprise!"
He barely had time to take in the room before Laena's eyes lit up with shock and joy, previous anticipation and impatience gone. She stood at once and flung herself into his arms.
"I missed you. I missed you. I missed you… so much!" she babbled, her words rushing out so fast Laenor struggled to understand them.
He laughed and lifted her off the ground, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He'd missed her too—more than he could say. Even amid his magical experiments and discoveries, not a day passed when he didn't think of her and their mother, especially whenever he reached a breakthrough. What would they think? Would they be proud?
He inhaled the familiar scent of lavender and sea breeze that clung to Laena's hair before gently setting her down. Her smile warmed his heart more than he knew was possible. Instead of returning to her seat, Laena laced her fingers with his and stayed by his side as their mother approached.
"Were you surprised?" Laenor asked with a cheeky grin.
"We got informed of your arrival just a few minutes before you entered," his mother said with a teasing smile as she pulled him into a warm embrace. "I even ordered the servants to set your plate."
Laenor groaned softly, disappointed that his surprise had been ruined, but he returned the hug nonetheless. After a moment, she stepped back and gestured toward the table. "Come. Eat first. We'll talk afterward—I imagine you're hungry."
Laenor made his way to the table, Laena still clinging to his hand. Instead of taking the seat to their mother's left, she pulled out the chair beside Laenor and sat there, refusing to let go. He chuckled as he tried to free his hand to eat, but Laena's grip only tightened.
"Laena," he said, half amused, half confused, "how am I supposed to eat with only one hand?"
"Not my problem," she muttered smugly.
"Laena, let your brother eat in peace," their mother chided gently. "And he's not going anywhere. He's staying with us—indefinitely. Aren't you, Laenor?"
He smiled awkwardly and nodded at once. The subtle edge in her voice wasn't lost on him. And with their father away, there'd be no one to take the brunt of her fury—and Laenor has no wish to end up beneath Meleys' claws.
Laena hesitated, but one sharp look from their mother made her release Laenor's hand—albeit reluctantly. As a final act of protest, she jabbed him in the ribs hard enough to make him wince.
Laenor gritted his teeth and endured the bullying of his eldest sibling, choosing instead to focus on the steaming food in front of him. After all, he'd missed more than just family. He'd missed Driftmark's food too.
"Where is your father, Laenor? Does he have no intention of leaving the Stepstones?" his mother asked, a displeased frown on her face.
"He's already sailed from Bloodstone. Should be here in a few days."
"Good. Did you come here on your dragon, then?"
"Nay. Embaryx must be on his way as well. I swam my way here," Laenor said before she could ask further. "And yes, Mother, it was safe—and faster. That's why I chose it." He put another spoonful of honeyed meat into his mouth, savoring the taste. Dragon's Forge had many things, but its cooks couldn't hold a candle to those at High Tide.
His mother only huffed in response. "Did you two at least practice your Valyrian glyphs? And please tell me you're using the second dragonglass device I sent you," Laenor asked, raising an eyebrow in question.
Laenor narrowed his eyes slightly, seeing his mother's eyes avoid his for a moment. "I did hope you hadn't ignored the device. It's crucial to empty your reserves daily so your body saturates better with magic."
"I did learn all the Valyrian glyphs you call Old Valyrian," she replied, her tone softening. "It wasn't difficult. I had some knowledge from my years on Dragonstone with my father," she added with a fond smile. "Laenor, even though I've written this before in my letters, I'll say it again—your grandfather would've been proud. You're bringing back knowledge we thought was lost."
Laenor smiled. "That means a lot, Mother. And the dragonglass practice?"
Her eyes flicked away.
"I did use it. For six moons," she replied a bit too quickly. "But as Lady of Driftmark, my duties consume most of my time. I also have to manage the Faith and the Sept here, so they do not start to tarnish your name. I couldn't afford to sit around for hours, doing that. Time was not something I could waste, my son."
Laenor only shook his head with a sigh. "Mandia?" he asked, turning to his sister. "Did you also neglect it?"
"Of course not!" Laena said fiercely. "I did everything you instructed—and more. I've learned all the Valyrian glyphs, and with Mother's help, I even created some clusters—or arrays, as you call them. As for channeling magic into dragonglass, I do it during my lessons with Septa and right before bed. It takes about five hours before I feel drained and drowsy enough to sleep."
Laenor beamed. "Excellent! Even Prince Daemon couldn't manage more than four and a half hours before tiring. Very good, Laena. It might seem like a waste of time, but I assure you it's not. You'll understand once Father returns."
"You mean I have to wait until Father returns?" Laena asked with a pout.
"Yes. Forgive me, but I promise the wait will be worth it," Laenor said gently. "And we'll get to see Mother's regretful face too."
"As if," their mother scoffed. "I don't fancy throwing magical bombs like Vaemond. Meleys can cause more destruction than any carvings or glyphs you make. There's a reason dragonlords ruled Valyria—not sorcerers."
Laenor only smiled. It was almost word-for-word what Daemon had once said… and now the Rogue Prince spent his days immersed in crafting spells.
"I can't wait to see your face when you witness what Father can do," Laenor said mysteriously, letting the intrigue linger.
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