Dragonstone, 113 AC
Laenor was surprised when Daemon's eyes went pure white. Weren't skinchangers' eyes supposed to go like that when they slipped into animals? Was there a connection? His train of thought broke when Daemon's body jerked, and his hands slipped from the candle. The flame returned to its blood-red hue after a heartbeat as Daemon wiped the blood trickling from his nostrils. It seemed the Rogue Prince was still far from mastering the candle— or perhaps the candle always strained its wielder, dragging its price out of flesh.
Viserys was beside him in an instant, gripping Daemon's shoulder and helping him steady himself. "You fine, brother?" Viserys asked as Daemon managed to stand straight without support. Daemon nodded slowly, drew a deep breath, and lifted his head. Laenor and the others needed no further confirmation of Valyria's return after seeing the expression on his face.
"I saw it," Daemon said. "It was much harder to look at— far harder than looking past the Jade Sea. It felt like trying to see the bottom of the ocean while swimming on its surface, and the water is murky and… thick, I suppose. But I caught a glimpse. It was no different from what we saw in the dream. Valyria will be alive before the dawn." His tone was grave.
Silence followed until Laenor's father broke it. "What will be our next move? We already knew this was coming, and now it has. Not something we can change. So let us decide what to do next. Will we let them come to us, as we agreed that night?"
Viserys sank into his seat as Daemon resumed his own, the king exhaling heavily as his fingers tightened around the armrest. "I spoke with Lord Strong— the one man I trust to keep this matter to himself. He advised me to go through our family history and see if any kin of House Targaryen were alive in the Freehold at the time of the Doom. And… there were many. Aenar Targaryen was no master of glass candles, so he relied on letters and parchments to track the Targaryen women wed into other families, and one distant branch that became freeholders after failing to gain the privilege of taming dragons."
Laenor watched surprise flicker through several faces, followed by confusion, and then the slow dawn of understanding.
"Do you intend to contact those people?" Rhaenys, Laenor's mother, asked dryly. "We agreed to let Valyria reach out first. Those 'kin' won't welcome you because you bear the Targaryen name and blood, cousin."
Laenor doubted Viserys was naïve enough to think the same, not the Viserys he is now. There had to be another angle— another benefit. And the hard look the king leveled at Laenor's mother proved Laenor right.
"I am not a child, Rhaenys," Viserys said. "I know they won't warm to me and welcome me just for my name and blood. But perhaps we can reach out and aid them now, not only them but the whole of Valyria, by giving them information and other resources when they need them most. We saw that not all of Valyria has been restored— not yet. They will still rise as a mighty force capable of reclaiming what was theirs. But with our support, that rise could be faster. That is leverage. And with our magic, we can secure an alliance with a neighboring power— one capable of pressuring others and us into bending the knee, and they might if they saw us no different than people like the guest we are hosting."
He looked around, gauging their reactions.
Laenor couldn't deny it — this was far wiser than their previous plan.
"Brother, are you telling us your decision? Have you already chosen this path?" Daemon asked cautiously; his face said everything. Everyone knew Viserys was headstrong and stubborn when he wanted to be, and once he set his mind on something, the king rarely changed it—if ever.
"I haven't," Viserys replied. "I intended to hear your thoughts before deciding."
Daemon nodded in relief. "Though there are many ways this could go wrong, I still believe reaching out and assisting them when they truly need it is the better option. Far wiser than letting them return to full power and approach us afterward."
"And you're eager to take these risks? A great many ways this could go wrong," Laenor's mother said, incredulous, though curiosity colored her tone.
"Not eager, per se," Daemon replied with a confident smirk, "but there's a reason you all call me a rogue and an irrational fool, isn't there?" Laenor doesn't know anything about how many great ways in things could go wrong, but what he knows and can see is a great many changes in Daemon. The Rogue Prince of the past would never call himself a fool, not even as a jape. He was too proud for that.
Laenor's mother only snorted and shook her head.
"It seems dangerous, aye," Laenor's father added. "If those people His Grace speaks of betray us, the cost will be steep. But I agree with Daemon. It is better to take the first step when they are at their weakest—and see what they truly think of us. So we may prepare for the future, Rhaenys."
Before his mother could say anything, Laenor voiced his own opinion. "I think the same. Doing nothing and waiting should only be done when all other choices have dried up. But now we have one before us."
His mother took a deep breath at that, looked between them all, and finally shrugged in defeat.
"So it is decided," Viserys said with satisfaction. "Daemon will reach out first to Aenar Targaryen's sister, Rhaenys Belaerys—the widowed wife of the previous head of the family, and mother of the current one. By the letters I've read, she was very close to her brother and his children." Viserys moved toward a shelf, withdrew a stack of old parchments, and handed them to Laenor's father.
"Though I agree with your decision, brother," Daemon said, "I know horseshit about reaching anyone through a glass candle—let alone Rhaenys Belaerys. I thought I'd never use that part of the candle's abilities, so I never bothered learning it. Not that anyone could do it to experiment anyway." Daemon's words doused Viserys's smile like a bucket of cold water douses flames.
"Well, I don't see a problem there, nuncle," Rhaenyra said. All eyes turned to her and Laena, who had been silent until now. "We have Laenor here. I'm sure you both can figure out how to reach Valyria through a glass candle at night. Maybe even in less time than the whole night." She shrugged, as if success were obvious and unavoidable.
Laenor smiled. Though it might cost him a night's sleep, he would gladly pay it—if it meant learning the candle's secrets and contacting a true Old Blood family of the Freehold. And not just any… but the Belaerys.
"Is it possible, Daemon?" Viserys asked, uncertainty and hope mingling in his voice. "Will you and Laenor be able to discover how to make contact in a night? Time is important here."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Daemon said. "After I teach this blessed bastard beside me how to use the candle, it won't take him more than an hour or two to figure out how to extend its reach to Valyria and establish a link so we can communicate with whomever we want. Fret not—by the dawn, we will be speaking to this Rhaenys Belaerys."
"Oh? Are you jealous of my talents, Daemon?" Laenor jabbed, grinning. "You shouldn't be. I'm sure Arrax will bless you, too."
Daemon only frowned at him with dangerous eyes, while chuckles rose around the room. Laenor was pleased to see the tension finally ease.
"Now," Laenor added mischievously, "I wonder if we should tell our guests or not?"
He very much wanted to see the flabbergasted faces of Daena and Jaenara. Not that anyone would agree with his request.
If you're interested in reading up to fifteen chapters ahead of this one, you can find them on my Patreon:
Patreon.com/c/Daeranyx_Drakonar
Your support on Patreon helps me continue writing, but rest assured, I won't be locking chapters behind a paywall. They will be available for free over time. If you enjoy the story and would like to support my work, your contribution would be greatly appreciated!