Terms of Endearment │Part I: The Princess and the Rogue

Chapter 27: Requiem

THE PRINCESS

It seems like mere moments before you are awoken to a hard pounding on the door. You jump up, ignoring Daemon's bleary "fuck off! " to toss a robe on over your shift, heart pounding. It is eerily like Laenor's interruption all those days ago. With a sinking feeling, you move to the door to open it.

Ser Alton is on the other side, panting, eyes solemn. "Forgive me, Your Highness—but the Princess Rhaenyra has instructed me to awaken you and the Prince." You already know what he will say, but you cannot bear to hear it. "The Lady Laena is... missing. Vhagar is gone."

"What?" Daemon asks behind you, having tossed on a robe of his own. "How the fuck could she have gone missing? Isn't she gravely unwell? Ill noblewomen don't just go traipsing about castles in the middle of the fucking night."

"No one knows," Ser Alton says. "All we know is that she is nowhere to be found, and her dragon is not in her nest."

You rush down the winding halls to the foyer, wiping your eyes and blinking to dislodge the crust of fatigue from them. The wide chamber is alight with activity, with guards and servants running to and fro, the portly figure of Ser Robert Quince barking orders at the men as they pass. Ser Harwin is pacing furiously, Rhaenyra clutching the tearful twins to her, while Laenor has Luke slung over his shoulder and Jace leaning against his side. You run over to your sister, seeking to provide her succour. From the bewildered and fearful look upon her face, she knows no more than you do.

Daemon's hand comes to rest on the base of your spine. "Any news?"

You fold your arm around the whimpering form of Baela, who throws herself into you when you stop in front of Rhaenyra, leaning down to press your face into her hair.

"Nothing," Rhaenyra says, quaking, shaking her head in a firm 'no'. Her eyes are bright, but she stalwartly holds back her emotion, an exemplary heir feigning control in the presence of so many of her people.

"Why?" she asks. "Why would she—she was resting when I last saw her!"

You shake your head, but it is Ser Harwin who answers, roused from his reverie by yours and Daemon's entrance.

"Vhagar." His gaze is forlorn as it settles upon the weeping forms of his daughters. "'Tis all she would speak of these past few days. If I weren't so worried, I'd be proud of my lass for going forth to get her own way."

"But why?" She seems as a child begging for the answers to an unknowable question. "She's... she's so sick. What could have possessed her to think of—"

"Rhaenyra." Your sister looks to you. "She is not in her right mind—you know this. She called me 'mother' the other day."

"Has the Princess Rhaenys been informed?" Daemon asks, turning to Laenor, Your implicit reference to the Velaryon matriarch seems to have prompted him. "Perhaps she's making her way to Driftmark."

Laenor nods, as pale and withdrawn as you have ever seen him. "We sent the raven, though it may be too late."

You do not wish to know what he means by that.

At the door, there is a commotion. You glance up to see a youth bolt into the room before he is seized by the attending guards. Over the din, you can hear him call out, "It's Vhagar! On the beach!"

You have no choice but to run after your sister and Ser Harwin as they take off, passing the girls over into the capable hands of their nursemaid.

Running back down the steps of the keep is no less fun than moving up them. By the time you reach ground, you are sore and fatigued from the journey. Ahead, in the dim light of the dawning sunrise, you see the bronze behemoth that is your cousin's mount, the beast emitting a chilling wail unlike anything you have ever heard. It is a sound that freezes the bones inside your body, and you are struck with the urge to turn tail and run back up those steps—anything to avoid facing what you know in your heart is waiting for you on the beach.