Blood Upon The Snow ||| Cregan Stark

seven

Driftmark wasn't much of a journey from Dragonstone. The islands were extremely close. It was just a matter of loading onto their ships, their dragons following along for the journey.

Cannibal had done better at playing nice with the smaller dragons. He didn't bother the bigger dragons because he knew they would put up a fight. The dragon could survive off of livestock for the time being.

Jacaera had picked out one of her nicest dresses for the funeral. She'd begun to dress richly, just like her mother. Gems and jewels that glittered in the fabric of her dresses, rings, earrings, ad necklaces. She was a princess, she wanted to dress like one.

Her dress was dark; black with red accents. It wasn't over the top, terribly vain for a funeral. But respectful. Black, for mourning.

She'd been nervous the entire voyage. To see everyone again. Even her own grandparents. She wasn't sure how to comfort them after they'd lost a child. Nothing she said could bring Laena back.

So when they arrived, met personally by Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, Jacaera could only embrace them. "I'm very sorry."

The only grandchild from Laenor that resembled him. And that was only because of her silver hair. Still, her condolences were received and her grandparents hugged her.

That morning was extremely solemn. There wasn't time to reconnect with the relatives that hadn't seen each other in years. The afternoon, the day, was about Laena.

Jacaera could only wonder about her uncle, the rogue prince, and her cousins. Jacaera kept her eyes away from the King and the rest of his family. She didn't want to look at any of them.

When everyone was gathered, though, when family and friends were together at High Tide, the funeral commenced. It was led by Vaemond Velaryon, Laena's uncle. He'd never been fond of Laenor's children

Her sarcophagus was loaded onto a mechanism overlooking the water. When he finished her eulogy, it would be dropped into the sea, so she would join her ancestors.

Daemon, his twins, Laena's parents, and Rhaenyra's family, including the King and his children, were all gathered close to the service. They stood solemnly together, listening to Vaemond speak in High Valyrian.

Of course, Jace and Luke did not understand what the man was saying, maybe a few words at most. They simply stood next to their mother.

Rhaenyra held Luke and Jacaera close. She had her arms around their shoulders, looking at the ground as Vaemond spoke. She was keeping Jacaera away from Aegon and close to her side.

"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood." Vaemond's words were flowery and cordial, but what he'd said about her daughters, it sounded strange to Jacaera. She looked up at the man, lifting her gaze from the ground, only to see that he was staring at Rhaenyra, at Jacaera, Jace and Luke.

"Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin."

He was making a dig at Rhaenyra and Laenor. At his niece's funeral, he was calling the children bastards with sophisticated language. Rhaenyra knew it, most of the people gathered did.