bloodrite

xvii.

Driftmark is cold, smelling strongly of the sea beyond. Salt and seaweed, thick in her nose. This very castle is the ocean, feeling as if it has risen from the waves itself. Leanna passes through its halls, heavy cloak drawn over her shoulders. The guards escort her to the throne room, to the cousin she has already sworn for.

The ever-regal Rhaenys greets her with a tense smile, and then an embrace.

"Thank you," she offers, holding Leanna out. "I know this has been difficult for you."

"It's what my father would have wanted."

"And it's not what your husband wants." Corlys Velaryon steps forward, studying Leanna. It's the first time she has met him, for she was still young when they married.

"No, it is not."

"You would be loathe to know that he has gathered forces against Rhaenys's claim since your departure, then."

Leanna fights to remain composed. Mentally, she is cursing the Targaryen. Outwardly, she merely dips her chin. "I was afraid of that much, Lord Corlys. He made hint to it before I left."

"What news must we look forward to?"

"Jaehaerys has been in counsel with his son Vaegon and the Small Council over how to proceed. They suggest a Great Council to dispute the claims. From what I have heard, the Small Council will put forward several claimants." Leanna folds her hands. "You, and by proxy Laenor. Viserys, who is most strongly favored now. I cannot think that Vaegon will press his claim. I believe there are others, but they will be no contention."

"So now we must gather support," Corlys rubs at his beard. "The push will be for Laenor. In that case, will you still support us, Lady Leanna?"

This is where she has leeway. Leanna lifts her chin. "I promised Rhaenys long ago that I would support her, no matter what. That still holds true, but you must consider my own station. My claim lies solely with Rhaenys, for she is my blood. I cannot in good faith fully turn my back on Viserys. He is still my family through marriage, and I would not be so foolish as to burn that bridge so swiftly."

"Very well," Corlys agrees. Leanna, and apparently Rhaenys, are surprised by his willingness. The Lord of Driftmark explains himself. "I expected as much. Your bond with your husband is not something I expect you to jeopardize."

"I am already putting it at risk by being here, my Lord."

"And I am grateful you made the journey. Rest, and we will prepare for this Great Council."

It's a dismissal. And, Leanna realizes with a cold wave of shock, he thinks lowly of her. Rhaenys's gaze is a warning, but Leanna draws herself up.

"I have fought for the rite that is in my blood. I will not deny my cousin the same. My cousin, Lord Corlys. Not you. Not the Velaryon name. Rhaenys alone. I do not care if that makes you resent me, but I will not rest until the Council is drawn to a close. You may be the richest man in Westeros, but wealth is only material."

"And what do you have? A feud with the Citadel and an estranged husband?"

"I have friends. I cannot say I hear the same for you."

Rhaenys steps between them, raising a hand. "Your support is appreciated. If it comes down to it, I'm glad I can turn to you at the Council."

Leanna knows better than to continue needling the Sea Snake. It would do more good. She dips her chin and turns away from the two nobles.

She doesn't have to wait long in Driftmark's weaving halls before the official summons arrives from King's Landing. With Aerys on her hip, she reads the message. The Great Council would not be held for another five months, allowing lords across the land to gather in Harrenton to debate over the issue of succession. It also undoubtedly gave the claimants time to prepare themselves, and their supporters.

She would not linger at Driftmark for long. She knows now that Corlys will push the angle of Laenor over Rhaenys, and she has already made her position clear. Should Rhaenys present before the Great Council, Leanna will put forth her vote.

She will take her son back to Storm's End. She will rule as she has been, ignoring whatever foolery Daemon is doing to win favor for Viserys.

The voyage back is long, wrought with frigid storms on the open sea and an unease from the seamen over Triarchy attack. Aerys is miserable throughout the trip, meaning she gets little rest. Agitated and tired, she arrives at Storm's End feeling rather like the storm she has just left.

The red dragon circling the castle only blackens her mood.

Cold and angry, she blows into the Great Hall. Daemon, pompously, is sprawled across the throne. Across the Baratheon seat.

Her seat.

"How dare you?" She demands, storming towards him. She does not stop the guards from bringing their hands to their swords. "You have no right to step foot in this castle."

"No right?" He asks, sitting up. "Am I not your husband?"

"When you go against my wishes and dare to raise arms against my cousin, I wish you were not."

"I told you it would mean war."

"Yes, and now you have escalated it."

"Do you not see Viserys is the wisest choice?"

"Get up!" She snaps. Her guards begin to draw their blades. Again, she lifts no hand to stop them. He stands, unperturbed by the armored figures before him.

"Let us speak in private quarters," he answers. Voice lowered enough that she can read how tense he truly is.

"I think it's best you return to King's Landing until the Council has convened. Our alliances will not align."

"Supporting Laenor is a folly. He is just a child."

She levels her gaze at him. Cold and challenging. "I never said I support Laenor. I support Rhaenys, blood of House Baratheon. Should her claim be vetoed, then I will be forced to reconsider. And winning my decision over will not happen by raising arms."

Daemon stares at her. Surprised, to an extent. "Perhaps I would have understood that if you took more than a few seconds to explain your mind before you rushed off to Driftmark."

"Perhaps I would have been inclined to if you were not accusing me of war in that exact moment," she answers sharply, refusing to accept his pitiful attempt at reconciliation. "I want you to leave Storm's End." When he does not shift, she lifts her hand. Refusing to shout, to expend more energy than she already has. "Now."

The guards take her signal, advancing on Daemon.

He hadn't been expecting her to turn her back on him. Needled by the swords, he has no choice but to lift his hands and move for the massive double doors. Leanna does not look back at him, knowing that she will falter if she does.

There would be time, after the Great Council, to make her amends. For now, tensions were too high.

She watches from the windows of the hall as the red dragon takes off. There is a loud grating noise from beyond the doors, his claws hitting the walls of the courtyard as he pushes into the sky. Caraxes thunders into the air, his sleek body moving quickly through the air. Before long, the dragon disappears entirely into the clouds, along with his rider.