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The Son of Ice and Fire: Lost in Time pt.5
🕑 Added 2024-10-21 07:47:20 +0000 UTCLaena entered her father's study, the heavy door closing behind her with a soft, resounding thud. The room carried the familiar scent of old parchment, ink, and the ever-present sea breeze that slipped in through the half-open windows. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books and charts, and an array of nautical instruments lay scattered across a side table.
Corlys Velaryon sat at his grand desk, his attention focused on a map unfurled across the polished surface. When she entered, his eyes flicked up to meet hers, a welcoming but unreadable smile playing at his lips.
"Ah, Laena," he greeted warmly, gesturing for her to approach. "Come, sit." His voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent there—something that alerted her senses. Laena moved gracefully to the chair across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap, her gaze steady on her father’s face.
The conversation began in the familiar manner of their usual discussions—casual enough at first. Corlys spoke of his recent travels, the situation in the Stepstones, and the latest affairs concerning their house. Laena listened attentively, her eyes searching his face, noting every shift in expression. She saw the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes occasionally flickered—there was more to this conversation than pleasantries. He was building towards something, and she could feel it.
Finally, Corlys leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest—a telltale sign that he was gathering his thoughts for something important. His gaze locked onto hers, an intensity in his eyes that made her sit up straighter.
"Laena," he said, his voice deceptively casual, "tell me—what do you make of Lord Maekar?" The question slipped out smoothly, as though it were just another topic in their conversation. But Laena sensed the weight behind it, the significance lurking beneath the surface. This wasn’t an idle inquiry; this was the crux of their discussion.
She hesitated for a heartbeat, carefully considering her words. "He is… intriguing," she replied, her tone guarded, thoughtful. "He carries himself as a true Valyrian lord. I admit, I was skeptical at first, but now I believe his claims. He truly is a Dragonlord of old Valyria."
Corlys nodded, his gaze sharp and unyielding, his expression inscrutable. He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing with focus. "Has he spoken of what he plans to do?" he asked, his voice dropping a notch. "I have noticed you two have grown… close."
Laena understood the question beneath the question. Her father was probing, trying to gauge her feelings. He wanted to know what Maekar meant to her—whether there was interest, whether Maekar himself had shown any affection. Her heart gave a small, involuntary flutter as she realized the direction of this conversation. Her father was weighing the potential for something much more—a match, perhaps.
There was no point in dancing around it. Taking a deep breath, Laena decided to confront the matter head-on. "Are you planning a match between me and Lord Maekar, Father?" she asked, her voice calm, unwavering, even as her heart pounded beneath her composed exterior.
Corlys blinked, visibly taken aback by her directness. The silence hung heavy in the air for a moment, and then his lips curled into a small smile—an expression that held both surprise and a hint of pride.
"Yes, daughter," he admitted, his tone softening, the mask slipping to reveal the ambition that had always driven him. His eyes searched hers, measuring her response. "A match with a Dragonlord could elevate our house to heights we have not seen since the days of Old Valyria. It could be our greatest alliance… even the loss of the Iron Throne would be softened." There was a gleam in his eyes—a hunger for something greater, a vision for their family that stretched far beyond Driftmark. It was the look he wore when he spoke of his grand voyages and conquests.
Laena paused for just a heartbeat, and in that moment, something within her settled. She knew what she wanted. For the first time, her own desires aligned perfectly with her father's ambitions.
"I accept," she said simply, her voice clear, unyielding. She met her father's gaze without a hint of hesitation.
The effect was immediate. Corlys blinked, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. He had expected resistance, perhaps even an argument or anger. He had not expected her acceptance.
Laena watched as he struggled to reconcile her response with the argument he had likely prepared in his mind. He looked at her, blinking as though unsure if he had heard correctly.
"You… accept?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.
Laena nodded, her gaze steady. There was no reluctance, no uncertainty. For once, she had a choice, and it was the very choice she wanted to make. "Yes, Father," she said firmly.
Corlys stared at her for a long moment, and then, slowly, a smile began to spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes warm with pride and satisfaction. "I am glad, daughter," he said, his voice carrying a rare tenderness. There was something softer in his gaze now—an acknowledgment of her strength, her readiness.
Laena hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What of the spendthrift?" Her voice held an edge as she referred to the former Sealord's son, the man she had been betrothed to for years—a promise that had hung over her like a dark cloud.
Corlys’ eyes hardened, his expression growing colder. He waved his hand dismissively, as though brushing aside a trivial matter. "I will take care of that," he said, his tone sharp with finality. "I have kept him away from you for this long, haven't I?" There was a touch of steel to his words, and Laena knew better than to doubt him. The Sealord’s son had always been a pawn, a temporary piece in her father’s larger game.
Laena allowed herself to exhale slowly, a weight lifting from her shoulders. She felt lighter, her mind clearer. She rose to her feet, her eyes still on her father. "I must take my leave, Father," she said, her tone polite. "Maekar and I planned a ride to Spicetown."
Corlys studied her, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "Laena," he said, stopping her as she began to turn away. "Gauge Lord Maekar's interest in you. If he is receptive, I will speak to him myself about a match."
He paused, a rare hesitation showing in his demeanor, as if weighing whether to share more. Then he added, his voice slower, more deliberate, "The King has heard of Maekar's presence here. He wishes to meet him. We need to secure this… before I take him to King’s Landing."
Laena nodded, understanding the weight of his words. This was about her which she was more than determined to shape.
.
.
.
The wind swept through Laena's hair as she urged Vhagar higher into the sky, the dragon's massive wings beating with a steady rhythm that echoed deep within her chest. The sun shone brilliantly, casting a golden glow over the endless waves far below. Beside her, Maekar flew on Neferion, his dragon equally—if not more—imposing. Neferion’s black scales shimmered darkly in the sunlight, an image of shadow and fire. The two great beasts flew side by side, weaving between clouds and racing each other above Driftmark, their movements mirroring each other as if in an intricate dance.
Laena felt a thrill surge through her as she glanced sideways at Maekar. He was poised and confident, his figure blending seamlessly with the fierce form of Neferion. She loved flying with her brother Laenor, but there was something different about this—an exhilaration that went beyond mere adventure. There was an intensity to the way Maekar flew, the way he seemed to become one with his dragon, and that called to her. It was a feeling she had never experienced before—a sense of being truly alive.
For a brief, beautiful while, it felt as if they were the only two beings in the world. The sky was theirs to command, a boundless expanse of freedom where no responsibilities or duties could intrude. Just the wind in their faces, the power of their dragons beneath them, and the endless blue stretching in every direction.
Maekar caught her eye and signaled for a race, a playful grin crossing his face. Laena couldn't resist the challenge—she nodded, her own smile widening. She leaned forward, urging Vhagar faster, feeling the dragon respond instantly, her powerful wings cutting through the air with renewed vigor.
They raced towards Spicetown, the dragons roaring in excitement, their mighty wings slicing through the sky. The air rushed around Laena, filling her ears, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She urged Vhagar onward, determined to win, the coastline blurring beneath them—fields and cliffs passing by in a rush of color as they streaked towards their destination.
Laena touched down first, Vhagar landing with a triumphant roar, her massive claws digging into the earth as she folded her wings. Laena laughed, her heart still racing from the exhilaration of the chase. Moments later, Neferion descended beside them, his dark form settling gracefully as Maekar dismounted, a good-natured smile lighting up his face.
Laena dismounted as well, her pulse quickening for reasons beyond the race. She watched as Maekar approached, and together they began to walk towards the edge of the cliff, overlooking Spicetown below. The bustling town lay sprawled out beneath them, the harbor teeming with ships, the streets crowded with traders and merchants.
“Impressive,” Maekar remarked, his gaze sweeping over the lively scene. “Your father managed to build all of this in just a few years.”
Laena felt a swell of pride at his words, her eyes softening as she looked towards the town. “Yes,” she replied, her voice filled with admiration, “my father is a man who will achieve anything he sets his mind to.”
Maekar smiled, a warmth entering his gaze as he turned towards her. “It seems his children have inherited that trait,” he said.
Laena met his eyes, her smile deepening. They stood together in silence for a moment, watching the sun as it began to dip toward the horizon, casting the sea in hues of gold and amber, the sky ablaze with oranges and reds. The wind carried the scent of salt and the distant cries of seabirds, the world around them slipping into a tranquil quiet.
After a long moment, Laena spoke, her voice softer. “Maekar,” she began hesitantly, “have you… have you ever loved before?”
Maekar was silent, his gaze distant as he looked out at the sea. “Yes,” he said finally, his voice carrying a note of sorrow. His eyes seemed to darken, his expression momentarily clouded. “But she is gone now… lost to time.” His words hung heavily in the air, and for the first time, Laena saw a sadness in him that ran deep—a wound that had not completely healed.
Her heart ached at the sight of his pain, and without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing gently against his arm. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, her voice tender.
Maekar shook his head, a small, bittersweet smile touching his lips. “No, it's fine,” he said quietly. “That wound has long since closed.” He paused, then turned to face her, his gaze steady, the sorrow replaced with something else. “I want to move forward. To live my life fully… perhaps even find love again.”
Laena felt her breath catch at his words, her heart pounding in her chest. “I am… glad to hear that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes searching his face.
Another silence settled between them, but it was different this time. Laena could feel her heart hammering, her thoughts a whirl of hope and fear. Without quite meaning to, she spoke again, her voice nervous, unsure. “Do you… do you have someone in mind?” The words were out before she could stop herself, and she immediately felt her cheeks flush, a wave of embarrassment washing over her.
But Maekar only laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and Laena’s embarrassment deepened as her blush spread.
He stepped closer, the laughter fading from his expression. “Yes,” he said simply, his eyes locking onto hers.
Laena found herself unable to look away. His steely gray eyes were intense, filled with warmth and something else—something that made her pulse quicken. Slowly, Maekar lifted his hand, his fingers brushing against her cheek, his touch feather-light, as if testing the moment.
“I hope she feels the same way,” he whispered, his words blending with the soft rush of wind around them.
Laena's heart seemed to stop for a breathless moment. And then, she felt herself leaning forward, her eyes closing as she let the world fade away. Their lips met, a hesitant, gentle touch that grew in warmth and certainty. His hand moved to the back of her neck, drawing her closer, and she felt her entire being focus on that single point of connection—There was only the warmth of his lips, the feel of his breath mingling with hers, the sensation of something new, something blossoming between them.
When they finally pulled apart, Laena's cheeks were flushed, but it was a warmth she welcomed. She looked up at Maekar, her heart still pounding, her breath coming in soft, quickened gasps. He smiled at her, his hand still resting against her cheek, his eyes filled with tenderness.
“If you deem me worthy, Laena,” he said, his voice low, filled with sincerity, “I will ask for your hand in marriage.”
Laena's smile widened, her eyes shining with emotion. “I would very much like that,” she replied.
Maekar's smile grew, a flicker of joy lighting his gaze. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping back, his expression shifting to something more playful. “Well then,” he said, his eyes glinting mischievously, “we should get to Spicetown before your brother grows suspicious of why we’re taking so long.”
Laena laughed, the sound light and free, her heart feeling full. She nodded, turning towards Vhagar, her steps light. Together, they walked back to their dragons, their hands brushing and finally clasping as they moved, their fingers intertwined.
