Into the Dragon's Den

Truly, Madly, Deeply

"Tighter," Laena commanded as Aylen tugged on the laces of the dress. She stared at herself in the mirror, fighting back the heavy tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. The jewels and metal of the bodice glimmered in the firelight of her room. She had decided to honor Helaena and wear the dress, regardless of  the pain it brought with it. It really was a marvelous creation and Laena looked lovely in it. When Aylen slid the dainty tiara her hair a sob ripped itself from her throat and she leaned against the mirror for support.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Laena nodded and wiped her cheek...

It felt odd, surreal, to be clinging to Daemon's arm an hour later as they approached the stairs of the Great Sept. It had been nearly six months since the fighting had ended and, while Daemon had never warmed to the idea of Laena and Aemond, he had no choice but to play his role in their wedding.

In truth, even after six months, Laena hadn't completely warmed to Aemond, either. There were still moments where she stared at him, wondering if she truly knew him, if she truly trusted him. He never begrudged her for it; he knew it would take her time to heal after his mistakes. He hadn't forgiven himself for that night in Storm's End, either. How had he thought it was going to go? Why had he lost his head so completely? He still didn't have an answer, all those months later. And yet, Laena had agreed to marry him anyway, albeit with conditions. He was the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. The luckiest man in the world, perhaps.

"It's not too late to flee on dragonback." Daemon whispered conspiratorially. Laena snorted in amusement. The Sept was full; every house in attendance. The wedding was not only going to unite both sides of house Targaryen, but all the houses in the realm. By attending, they were once again swearing fealty to the rightful Queen

She glanced at Aegon, who mouthed the words Avy jorrāelan. I love you. She mouthed them back, subtly, her eyes looking at him with adoration. Aegon had changed the most since the war had come to an end. The drinking had dwindled and he spent more time with the children; she was incredibly proud of the man he was becoming.

If Aegon hadn't already been married and sired children, he might have been the one waiting for her at the center of the sept, in fact, Laena had begged her mother to let her marry them both. After all, Aegon the Conqueror had two wives. Her mother laughed and told her it simply wasn't done any longer and would never be allowed for a woman. Maelor and the twins stood beside him, along with his mother. One of the things Helaena had said to her flitted through her mind again, it haunted her dreams at night. "You will take care of them, won't you?" If only she had known then what she knew now... Lady Alicent had yet to fully recover from the affects of losing both her father and daughter. Some days, she would stare blankly at the wall, mumbling to herself. Other days she was completely lucid. Luckily, it was one of her better days and she could witness her son's wedding.

When her gaze fell on Aemond, waiting for her to finally become his wife, her eyes welled with tears once more. He stood, proud and regal, no eyepatch in sight, his eye locked on her. Instinctively, she reached up and clutched the dragon around her neck; she never went without it, and he smirked at her.

The ceremony itself was over before she had processed the entirety of it. Daemon had passed her to Aemond, albeit with a grimace, and her prince had cloaked her. The vows were exchanged and then they shared a sweet, simple kiss. Laena couldn't help but remember her mother's wedding to Daemon. It had been nothing like hers and she wished she could have shared in the tradition. But despite their heritage, she and Aemond had both been named in the light of The Seven and they had agreed to be wed the same way.

"I love you, Aemond Targaryen." she whispered.

"And I you, Laena Targaryen." She smirked at the realization that she was officially a Targaryen, no longer bearing the name Velaryon, no longer bearing the weight of being a bastard.