When the blood of the dragon meets the soul of the dragon, the continent begins to burn.
The Baratheons are steadfast, strong, and formidable. Leanna Baratheon is no different. She is the storm, and no one, Targaryen or other, will bring her down.
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The wind buffets Leanna's face as she looks out over the sea. Knuckles white with her grip on the ramparts. She has been up here for hours already. Feeling like she is going to be sick over and over again, the nausea mimicking the waves that hit the rocks far below.
She knows Daemon is walking towards her. She cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bring herself to see the haunted reflection of herself in his own face.
"How is she?" She asks stiffly.
"Sleeping," he sighs. "The nightmares are getting worse. Maester Edmon thinks we should start giving her milk of the poppy."
"I will not poison my child," she answers fiercely. "Is it not enough to lose one?" Finally, she turns to him. "I will deal with Rhaella. You need to deal with your brother. I will not ignore the fact that Alicent and her spawn were absent from Alyssa's funeral. If that is not the tides of war, I do not know what is."
"It was disrespect," Daemon steps forward, lifting a hand to her arm. Leanna shies from his touch. He sighs, allowing his hand to drop. "You cannot see war in every action, Leanna."
"They have killed two things that we love, Daemon. Our cousin, and now our daughter."
"Sunfyre did not do it intentionally."
"No, but the rabid dog still meets the sword after killing a flock of sheep."
"Leanna," he warns. "You cannot lose yourself to vengeance."
"Too late," she bites, looking back at the sea. "Leave me."
"What are you going to do about Rhaella?" He asks without moving. Leanna lifts her chin, feeling none of the warmth that the sun provides. There will be no more warmth for her. Only this chill, and the darkness of her dress.
"I am going to turn her into a weapon."
"Do not push her," Daemon presses. "You know how she feels. She blames herself."
Leanna, internally, wants to sob. She knows Rhaella's torment. It destroys her to sit idle while her daughter cries through the days. She was a child, and the mistakes made that night were just that. Cruel, fatal mistakes. Leanna, at that age, would have never been so brave. She would have stood before Seasmoke and made the worst mistake of all. She would have cowered, breaking down and showing her weakness to him. In that, she would have died too. She cannot blame Rhaella, and she cannot blame Alyssa.
She can blame herself for not instilling terror in them about the presence of dragons, but that will do no good. They were Targaryens, and dissuading them from dragons so young would have been pointless. She can blame, and blame, but there will be no bringing Alyssa back.
When Leanna turns, Daemon is gone.
She goes to Rhaella, then. Knowing it's too soon, and yet not soon enough. Alyssa's death had been three weeks ago, now. She has hardly been able to face Rhaella, but not for any anger against her daughter.
