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The whole family assembled at the seaside, it seemed like a dream. Maekar was sure he had a similar dream, the silver skies crying out, the waves crashing in revolt, as if even the heavens mourned Laena Velaryon. Obviously in his imagination they weren't at a funeral, they were simply together. How naive of him. Maekar stood amidst the crowd on the cliffside and in a bashful fashion observed the black mourning clothes and the faces braced.

He skipped the regulars, he was sick and tired of staring at his sisters. Even the queen's children. However, it wasn't everyday Maekar got to see Jacaerys and Lucerys. They weren't that changed, Dragonstone hadn't made a mark on them yet. In all fairness, that side of the family hadn't been gone for that long. Maekar was just used to having them around, playing, training with them... It was strange to be apart and the boy silently feared the family would be reduced to dark shadows in the mist. He shivered as the salty breeze of the Narrow Sea passed straight through him. What if they only see each other at funerals from now on?

At Maekar's left it stood his father, he was standing a little apart from Aerea. It was an awkward stance and Vanarr's usual composure was hanging by a thread as he wobbled from foot to foot. He was amiss, as his mother would so often put it. Maekar wasn't sure of its meaning but he thought it was about being lost because Vanarr seemed utterly distant. He stared ahead and staggered in the rhythm of the sea, sometimes his eyes would triple in size then Vanarr would pat his chest to calm himself. Maekar knew his father had known Daemon Targaryen well, they had been to war together but of Laena Velaryon? He had never spoken. Either way something weighted on Vanarr more than on Aerea. Somehow that realization was more sinister. Aerea was Rhaenys' cousin, she had known Laena and Laenor since they were small children and there she stood. In all her dispassionate glory.

Shaking the ill thought away, Maekar reprimanded himself. His mother wasn't uncaring, in fact he felt loved by her on many occasions. It was just bizarre behavior for Maekar but grief was a strange little worm. While many appeared even-tempered, others were being eaten up. Such was the case of Laenor, crumbling in front of an audience.

There was also the case of Daemon Targaryen, who stood apart from the rest. The beloved husband, the barbaric prince Maekar had heard about in bed time stories. The pride, the flamboyance that always accompanied subdued by the gravity of the occasion. Daemon's posture was rigid but he was keeping it together as much as a man watching his dead wife's coffin being dropped to the sea could. He did laugh at some point during the eulogy, other than that. Maekar guessed grief really was a peculiar maiden to dance with.

They went on with the rites, and the Velaryons offered a reception. Maekar wished his mother was there holding his hand, telling him what to do and what to say. Howbeit Aerea had left a while ago, she brushed Maekar's back and disappeared inside the fort. Probably off to check on Aylia who was naught but a few weeks old. His father choked on a breath when he saw her leave. Maekar remembered they had a huge fight before the Nartaelos boarded. Vanarr insisted his youngest daughter should remain behind, as it wasn't safe or convenient to travel along. But Aerea was adamant.

The day Aylia came into the world, Maekar wouldn't leave the outside of his mother's room. In consequence, his twin was right beside him. They were allowed to enter when Vanarr came to the door, shaking. It was the first time Maekar saw the typical Valyrian features on one of his siblings and he had to ask.

"Are we bastards?"

Scandalized Aerea demanded he would never repeat such a thing. Why the shock? It was what the Court whispered about Rhaenyra's children, which included Aerea. His mother would snip some comments where and there about how the Velaryon children didn't have silver hairs or lilac eyes. Yet neither Naelle, Maekar or Vaenna had them.

Later his father explained that bastard was a bad word. He shouldn't repeat it, especially not in front of others.

Daemon was by the parapet, leaning and unconcerned. Quietly the boy tiptoed close to the widower, looking over from time to time and gathering the courage to engage with. Maekar swore that under the bravado, he could detect some flitting emotion, flickering in Daemon's neck muscles. When he would notice it though, it would be soon wiped away like sand being driven by wind. Maekar gave up trying to dig for signals of ache in Daemon, what did he expect to achieve? He would not know his uncle better for his grief, it would not compensate for years of absence.

Regrettably it had become a bad habit of Maekar's. To pry, he meant.

He liked to feel other people's discomfort. Aegon had called him out on it, like his parents had though they had never specified what bothered them about Maekar's behavior. Meanwhile Aegon didn't shy away and said it was sadistic. At first Maekar had lowered his head but as he later learned the full meaning of the word, he disagreed. Maekar felt no pleasure from folk's pains, he just liked to understand them. Daemon of the stories was a larger-than-life prince, an untouchable giant but ultimately unreal. The adult used to claim that in loss a man was diminished by grief. No, a man is tender like a clam compressed on itself for decades and finally opening up. A layer of melancholy could reveal a shimmering interior. Maekar anticipated the moment just before the shell cracked.

The sun hid away behind the castle upon the hill, his eyes fell away and he spotted a figure kneeling by the sea. It was the brother of the deceased longing to be close to Laena in death; if the sea must take her, by the gods take him as well. It caused some commotion, Lord Corlys wanted his son to carry himself with integrity. He ought to achieve it by demanding Ser Qarl to remove him.

"Retrieve your patron," he hissed.

Everyone heard, however, and they stared with their snakeskin, their faught disdain. The funeral party was dying to know, and then Maekar was the one accused of enjoying suffering.

The boy turned towards Laenor Velaryon, trying to work it in his brain what was so revolting about the display? No one ever enjoyed being that vulnerable, Maekar felt a lump forming in his throat. What was so wrong about it?

The crowd shifted like the restless tides, going back to their business once the dispute extinguished. Maekar kept staring while Laenor was gently dragged by Ser Qarl, then a presence loomed over him. Uncomfortably close, Daemon Targaryen tilted his head, silver hair draping a section of his jaw like curtains and waving with the breeze. The lines of face were sharp carved from stone, an overtone of unforgiving nature but undeniably compelling. The Rogue Prince drew attention, whether he willed it or not. Maekar was enraptured.

"You're Vanarr's boy, aren't you?" Daemon's voice cut through the low murmur. It was low and gravelly, and somehow filled with nonchalance.

Maekar stiffened, unsure whether to be worried or flattered by the sudden attention; he searched for his father on instinct. Nothing more than a whisper, it was all the little lad could offer.

"My name is Maekar."

"Fought with your father in the Stepstones. He was a schemer, well, at least in the military board."

There was a pause, a flicker of something like respect in Daemon's eyes. Other than the brief acknowledgement, the words weren't quite a compliment, they stirred something in Maekar. Mockery, double intent, Maekar had become quite good at detecting it in Court. He had heard some of Vanarr's exploits in the Stepstones but it was a censored subject in his family. And here stood Daemon, a man who could testify for the tales of blood-soaked sand and impossible victories.

"Was he a bad soldier?"

Daemon hesitated, surprised by the boy's new-found brazenness. He didn't mean to be so brusque but Maekar was, in fact, angry. Recently a hatred like a cobblestone had begun to materialize, Maekar despised King's Landing. He could barely stand being spoken to by anyone due to those lords and ladies being rats! And he wasn't bad mouthing them, he was just being truthful. They engaged in conversation to spread it elsewhere, thus Maekar ceased any type of interaction. That, however, only created new rumors.

The boy was tired of his sister who excelled in everything Maekar should be instead. She, who got along with Aemond and Aegon more than he ever could. Had the Princess Rhaenyra's children stayed, Vienna would've tangled them in her web too. Aside from that Naelle just reframed from hanging out, she spent every waking hour with her girlfriends. Oh, and no one should dare to address Princess Helaena as she was solemnly Naelle's.

Then there was father. Maekar was so angry at their father. At least mother had been more absent because she's been otherwise preoccupied with Aylia. Father was just amiss. Everyday he got further than the day before, floating away to a sky of dormancy.

"He was a decent soldier, I only meant... Vanarr's efficacy is determined by the environment." Daemon paused, eyes shifting as if trying to gather better explanations. "He was best with plans but wasn't made for greater games."

Furrowning, Maekar's lips tugged by one corner but before he asked, Daemon continued. He spoke with a sly grin, trying to adjust the mood. "Haven't met you or your sister before, though. Your father's hiding you away, or have you just been avoiding trouble?"

Maekar hesitated for just a heartbeat, feeling Daemon's eyes on him like a challenge. He forced himself to relax, forgetting his miseries as some were in more pain than others. A distraction was welcomed, so Maekar offered a smile. "No, trouble is one of Vaenna's specialties."

Daemon chuckled, knowing and his expression softened just slightly. "Ah, I see. Every family needs a troublemaker, and another to keep them grounded. You'll be thankful in the future, makes for interesting reunions."

From the corner, Maekar detected the king approaching and Daemon followed his gaze. He nodded then, the smirk fading as he seemed to temper his thoughts. "Nevertheless your father was a good companion in the war." His eyes flicked back to Maekar, assessing again. "I hope to see you later on, Maekar. Just don't stay in the shadows too long. Men who do so, tend to disappear."

Maekar wasn't sure whether it was a challenge or a warning. He realized that even thousands of miles away, in Pentos, Daemon had been mulling over the intricacies of maneuvering in Court. He was measuring Maekar's worth the same way his mother cautioned him. The weight of his family's name was on his shoulders but he felt like an imposter. Heir to Dreimunt? Heir to land he had never seen before? It was positively ludicrous, Maekar felt suddenly ridiculed to even hold such a title. Daemon patted his shoulder once and retreated.

He found his father in the crowd, and it turned out he had been the one to pull Corlys the harmless commotion. Maekar inhaled, the otherwise cutting coldness of the sea wind was now his salvation as he counted his steps until the pair. Rather than being in disarray, vacant pupils and limp arms, Vanarr was firmly bringing the Velaryon patriarch to reason. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his bones were no longer clouded with the weight of melancholy. When Corlys finally took a step back, breathing heavily but more composed, Vanarr turned, his gaze falling directly on Maekar as if he had known his son was there all along.

There was a light in Vanarr's eyes, a flicker of the man he used to be and he stood up straight. He didn't say anything at first, but there was a small nod of acknowledgement, allowing Maekar to walk up beside him, his heart beating just a little faster. At least for once, he didn't feel like he was intruding on his father's silence. Vanarr made a reconnaissance of the area.

"Where is your mother?" Vanarr asked.

He shifted on his feet, then replied carefully, "I haven't seen her since the ceremony."

Vanarr's gaze flicked away, his jaw tightening slightly but he didn't comment. He knew exactly where his wife was. There was no sharp response, no hint of frustration, just a slight narrowing of his eyes as he located the rest of his children over the gathering. Vanarr gave a single nod and he simply patted Maekar's shoulder beckoning him to keep up.

"Why don't you sit with me?"

And if it wasn't exactly what the boy wished to hear... Maekar nodded, trying to hold back a sniff as his father led him over a murky stone bench. Not too far off was Vaenna, she approached when she spotted them and got herself between her father's knees without a word. Vanarr's expression remained neutral but the bags under his eyes said enough.

Still the father curled a loving arm around them both, resting with his chin over Vaenna's shoulder. They stood there for a while longer, the sound of the sea and the murmur of voices filling the lulling like an embrace of a cradle, pretending that everything was just as it should be. That somewhere beneath the surface the family wasn't falling apart, the cracks were natural and even encouraged. Yet Maekar could sense at the distance a storm coming much as the Sea Snake could've predicted with a sailor's experience.

The gathering was just the exhibit of the dysfunction of the Court. Just house Targaryen crumbling in on itself and taking everyone down with them, head held high like they had no discretion. It mattered little what the lizards slivering on the rocks thought against fire. He thought back to the provocations between the queen and the princess, who inherited their children carrying off acts of malice. An urge they didn't understand but eased in their veins and made home in their hearts. Perhaps it was just Green against Black, perhaps hate was just inherent, pure to their line, inbred. Maekar recalled the pig incident, brother against brother. A cruel joke orchestrated by Aegon and Maekar had stood by, as did Jace and Luke. Red with fury and humiliation, Aemond never forgot what was just harmless fun.

His eyes flicked to Vaenna, who seemed just as lost in thought. They weren't like that, were they? The Nartaelos had a certain tendency to set foot in both camps. He took Vaenna for example, she hadn't spoken about the incident at the time though she challenged Aegon more often during practice. Have the prince hit the floor more than the others until she deemed the price was paid. Afterwards Vaenna and Maekar had followed Aegon in a common escapade, although these days they were fewer and fewer. His mother said the Targaryen prince was growing thus losing interest in playing around; Maekar glanced just in time to see Aegon gulping down the drink on his goblet.

He spotted Naelle by Helaena's side. On the contrary to Aemond, she was planted in front of the princess absorbing every sentence. On days such as that, when the atmosphere was eerie, heavy, suffocating, Helaena was the most affected. She splintered in nonsensical riddles, withdrew to her little world and his sister, always composed and strong, gently held the pieces. Naelle had learned the hard way to reframe from making contact with Helaena, she flinched and dodged her when she reached that particular stage of madness. It hurt Naelle's feelings but she shrugged and continued to offer soft words of comfort.

The only person Naelle admittedly didn't get along was Aegon.

She didn't keep it a secret either. Once she had announced:

"You do not like me, Prince Aegon, and I do not like you. Let us both steer clear from each other." Right in the middle of a feast, and not a small affair. All members of the Court and guests had been attending and heard.

Naelle just couldn't be put next to the prince. It was bound to end in ruckus. Other than that, she was upheld as the epitome of the proper lady. She was pleasant with everyone, which included Queen Alicent, Princess Rhaenys, Princess Rhaenyra, the Velaryons, smaller and higher lords and ladies... Frankly Naelle was perhaps too pleasant to the point of nausea. Maekar had caught moments she had lied to stay delightful to the subject. And when he inquired about it later, Naelle shook her head.

"It's not lying, I'm not lying. It's just bending to their liking."

Maekar stashed the thought away, and Vaenna was already observing him. She dipped her head, what's wrong? There's something rotten spreading within us. We are not like that, are we? Before Vanarr had brought him to the bench, he saw his twin moving about the crowd with purpose. In a split second, Vaenna made a decision and she quietly approached the two girls that had lost so much. She moved cautiously, he could not be sure what Vaenna had chosen to say but she had been standing near Baela and Rhaena for a while. The three girls exchanged muted words, shallow and trivial, enough to remind each other that they weren't alone.

It reminded Maekar, they had been on good terms with Jacaerys and Lucerys. They had played together, knights and bandits, hide and seek, and so many others. A while back Aemond and Daeron would even join them but not now. Three princes were away, and Aemond was bitter and bitter by the hour. And it wasn't just the pig incident. It was the constant sniping, the poison whispered to them behind closed doors, the absence of the heir, the segregation of the dinner table...

We are not like that, are we?

Maekar shook his head and grabbed his sister's hand. In response, she gave away a faint smile. There was no sibling jealousy capable of obscuring the affection they had for each other. Maekar turned his gaze back to the roaring sea, it was clearer than ever, their family was falling apart but they didn't have to drown with it. Vaenna squeezed his hand back.

I stand with you. Always.

It echoed through his skull, like a long lost prayer. Something Maekar had never heard in his life but so familiar. An ancient friend hugging him at last. It scared him sometimes how these glimpses of imagination resembled fate, in the moment Maekar believed them. Last night he had dreamed of a giant flapping, causing a streak of chaos. An amber room, blood, wrath. A knife pluralized, and glory turned to pride turned to insolence. An exchange that would haunt them all forever.

It was naught but a dream. Here were the facts: Lady Laena Velaryon had perished, she was gone, and would never return. A darling family was left behind and would never be the same. 

NOTES

if you squint you can see this is just inbred by ethel cain

good night <3