The Narrow Sea, first moon of 114 AC
He and the whole crew were deeply thankful for their uneventful return—quite the opposite of the sudden surprise attack they had faced on their way to White Harbor. Though none of the crew spoke a word in the North about what happened to their ships at the Bite, Aurane wondered if they would reveal it to their lord, Lord Corlys Velaryon. Aurane then looked around, watching the crew members gaze at Lord Laenor, who was sitting on the deck with his eyes closed, their faces full of admiration and reverence. Perhaps he was wrong—maybe these men admired Lord Laenor more than the loyalty they owed to Lord Velaryon.
And Aurane, of all people, couldn't see why they wouldn't. Witnessing that magnificent, divine being Lord Laenor had summoned from the depths to defend them and their ships had been nothing short of a miracle—a miracle that only a god could perform. Half the crew believed that Lord Laenor was the champion of the Sea God, their claim supported by his uncanny ability to command the waters at will. The other half whispered that he was the Sea God himself, for who else could fight gods except another of their kind? No mortal in recorded history had ever claimed to have fought a god and won. Even the ancestor of the Baratheon bloodline—Aurane had forgotten his name—had merely endured a god's wrath, not fought it.
But how did they come to believe that Lord Laenor had battled gods and not just a storm, as they first thought? The answer lay in the North—specifically, from Wintertown—where they had learned about the Three Sisters, a place not far from where the battle took place. The Sistermen, the people that lives on Three Sisters are said to worship three gods: the Lord of the Skies, the Lady of the Waves, and the son born of their mating, the Sacred Storm. The waves that first struck them, threatening to drag their ships and crew into the sea's cold embrace, had felt alive—vengeful. Then came the thunder, rain, and tearing winds, like the wrath of the Lord of the Skies himself, which even snapped the mast of one ship. And finally, the storm—the furious tempest Aurane saw as he dragged men below deck—there was no doubt it was them. Aurane believed it too.
To think that Lord Laenor, his cousin—a man only a few years older than Aurane—had fought three gods head-on to protect them all… it was still unbelievable to him. Every man aboard, himself included, owed their lives to Lord Laenor. The least they could do for him was keep silent, as their lord had requested. Anyway, it was best not to dwell too long on matters of gods and his cousin—it only made Aurane feel small, insignificant in the vast tapestry of life.
He turned his gaze forward, toward where they were headed—Dragonstone. Truth be told, Aurane was looking forward to seeing the dreary island up close. He was certain Princess Rhaenyra would be true to her word and grant him a tour of her seat. She had promised as much in return for word of Lord Laenor's whereabouts every so often during there short stay at Winterfell.. No, Aurane had not betrayed his lord; he had gained Lord Laenor's permission to pass along that information to the princess.
"Aurane, get ready. Command the crew to drop the sails. We are here," came the calm yet commanding voice of the very man he was thinking about—Lord Laenor.
"Roger, Captain Laenor," Aurane replied, bounding off toward the mast where the crew was gathered, chatting idly. "Up, you slackers! We've reached Dragonstone! Drop the sails and prepare for docking! Move!" Aurane bellowed. The men nodded and scattered to their tasks without delay.
Satisfied that everyone was at work, Aurane nodded to himself and returned to his cousin's side. Standing beside Lord Laenor, he got to witness again one of the many strange abilities his cousin possessed—the ships glided forward smoothly across the waves as if carried by a strong, favorable wind, even though the sails were now being lowered. A very handy ability indeed for a sailor and heir of House Velaryon to have.
"Aurane, while we're here, keep an eye on our crew. Make sure they don't mingle too closely with Daemon or any of his men. If, by chance, someone gets too friendly or too drunk in their company, send word to me immediately. That includes you as well. Be cautious—Daemon is dangerous to talk to for too long," said Lord Laenor.
Aurane nodded. The Rogue Prince must be quite the silver-tongued man if even Lord Laenor warned against him.
"I'll warn the crew, my lord," Aurane replied. Lord Laenor gave a small nod, and soon they reached the rocky coast of Dragonstone. Aurane noticed the single ship already docked and deduced that this was a private harbor, reserved only for the royal family and their guests. Naturally, there was another harbor on the opposite side of the island, farther from the keep.
As the crew tied the ship to the dock and lowered the plank, both Aurane and Lord Laenor stepped down to meet the small welcoming party that awaited them. As they walked, Aurane signaled Jace to take charge of the remaining duties aboard the ship.
"Ah, my friend is here at last! How many years has it been since I last saw you? Two, or is it three?" said the man who could only be Prince Daemon—Valyrian and dragonlord in looks through and through. Dark Valyrian—no, dragonsteel armor, Aurane corrected himself, remembering how his cousin preferred to call it that. The prince was clad head to toe in black-and-red dragonsteel armor. Standing beside him were Princess Rhaenyra and a woman who looked just as beautiful as the princess, if not more so. Aurane wondered who she was; she must be someone of importance, judging by her fine garments—Myrish lace of exquisite quality. At the very least, she was the daughter of a wealthy merchant.
Aurane's gaze returned to Prince Daemon, who had just released Lord Laenor from his embrace. Aurane was confused—barely moments ago, Lord Laenor had warned him to keep his distance from this very man, and now he greeted him like an old friend. What was going on?
"Something has happened," said Prince Daemon, narrowing his violet eyes. "There's tension on your face. The Laenor I know commands the sea with his will and never looked troubled, not even once, during the years we spent together. What is it? If it troubles you, then it must indeed be something great." His tone bordered on cautious, as if he were bracing himself to hear grave news.
This time, Aurane listened carefully to what his lord would say, unlike before when he had been lost in thought. Lord Laenor, instead of answering directly, only smiled mysteriously and replied solemnly, "Things that would not worry you or House Targaryen, I'm sure. So do not think much of it."
Aurane had a fair idea of what—or rather, who—Lord Laenor was referring to.
Prince Daemon said nothing, though he looked both relieved and curious at once. "Now, if you don't mind," said Lord Laenor with his charming smile back in place, "I would like you to introduce me to the beautiful lady beside our crown princess."
Aurane's lord first stepped toward Princess Rhaenyra to greet her, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the lady standing next to her. Aurane also noticed that the unintroduced lady had yet to tear her eyes away from Lord Laenor either.
"How forgetful of me," said Prince Daemon in his usual dramatic manner. The man looked far happier than Aurane had imagined, given the warning his lord had issued earlier. "This beautiful lady you see here is our esteemed guest, Daena Valarr of Lys. I assume I need not introduce Lord Laenor to you, my lady?"
The lady in question, Daena, smiled a radiant smile that made even Aurane blush, though she wasn't looking his way. With a graceful motion, she waved her hand and said, "Not only I, but I'm certain even the merchants who trade here knew that Lord Laenor Velaryon was to grace Dragonstone with his presence before he even left White Harbor." Then Daena Valarr turned toward Lord Laenor and bowed lightly. "It is a pleasure to meet the Lord of the Seas in person."
"My pleasure, my lady. I must say, it's refreshing to see such beauty here on Dragonstone—it drives away the gloom of this place," said Lord Laenor as he took her hand and kissed it. "What do you say? I have heard Lys is a city as beautiful as its people. And seeing you, I think I must visit it at the earliest opportunity."
Aurane turned to see if Prince Daemon took offense at Lord Laenor calling his House's ancestral seat gloomy, but to his surprise, the prince was smiling, clearly entertained by the exchange. Princess Rhaenyra, however, did not look nearly as amused.
The princess made her displeasure known with a pointed cough, drawing everyone's attention to her. Though not for long—every head turned skyward as a vast shadow swept over the ground.
It was midday—or rather, had been midday—until the sun was blotted out by the enormous black-grey shape soaring above them. Aurane recognized it instantly, its massive frame all too familiar to him.
"Embaryx," he said aloud.
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