113 AC, Dragonstone
Laenor sighed heavily at Daemon's question. Why must both niece and uncle trouble him with the same matter? He would have gladly told them that he had no interest in marrying Rhaenyra — since he was already courting his sister — which did not sound strange to him after spending years with Valyrian dragonlord blood in his veins. But that would be folly, for Laenor needed to inform his parents first before telling anyone, even someone like Daemon, whom he considered a friend.
"The talk you're referring to, Daemon, took place years ago. Many things have changed since then. However, I assure you, you will have your answer once I reach Driftmark and speak with my parents first," Laenor promised. Truth be told, the presence of Daena Valarr, an outsider, also played its part in his decision not to tell Daemon about his relationship with Laena.
Laenor thought his answer would at least sour Daemon's mood, but the Rogue Prince merely smiled and said, "Corlys, with all of his family, will be here in a few hours at best. You'll be giving me your answer today, it seems. Gods do not appear to be in your favor, Laenor." Daemon smirked triumphantly. Laenor shook his head at that expression. There was a fair chance the Prince thought he was only making excuses to avoid giving an answer.
"If anything, you indeed are right on God's not being in my favor. Anyway, are there any other guests you're hosting that I should know of beforehand?" Laenor asked jokingly.
"My father will be here as well," answered Rhaenyra. Laenor turned toward her. The smile that had always graced her face when she looked at him back in Winterfell was absent now. Her face was stony — perhaps even slightly angry, if Laenor stretched the meaning enough.
"I assume tonight House Targaryen and Velaryon will sup together, like one big family?" Laenor asked again, though the answer was as clear as the blue sky above.
"Yes indeed, like one big family we will be after your marriage to my niece," Daemon replied cheerfully. Rhaenyra only stared at her uncle with no emotion before returning to her chat with Aurane.
"Should I start calling you uncle as well, Daemon? Would that please you more?" Laenor asked sarcastically. Why is Daemon looking this happy? And by the gods, why is his happy face so annoying to look at?
"You may, after all, I'll be your uncle soon enough," Daemon said with a wise nod at the end. Laenor stared at him for a moment, hoping to make the man at least a little embarrassed for his theatrics, but Daemon — being the Rogue he was — only smiled broader. If Laenor were some wildling beyond the Wall, he would have spat on Daemon's grinning face. But alas, he was no savage. So instead, he turned his gaze toward the one person in the room who had yet to speak since they entered.
"So, Lady Daena of House Valarr of Lys," Laenor began. "I admit I do not know much about Lys beyond a few things your beautiful home is famous for. However, there are several prominent families of Lys that my maester once mentioned to me — but I don't recall the name Valarr among them. Was your family's rise recent?" he asked curiously, hoping to learn more than what his father had written to him in letters, per se.
Lady Daena nodded gracefully, as if she understood why Laenor would not have heard of her family name, and parted her full lips to reply. "The reason you might never have heard of House Valarr is that my family deals in poisons and slavery. One — slavery — is banned in Westeros. The other — poisons — are considered beneath the dignity of the realm's lords, an unhonorable craft. Not to mention, old family we may be, but we were never the richest or most influential like the Rogares, Ormollens, and others. It was only the offer of sharing some information and scrolls dating back to Old Valyria that persuaded King Viserys to permit my visit here."
Laenor did not miss the devious look Lady Daena sent toward Daemon — a small revenge, perhaps, for revealing her purpose earlier. And if the Lady Valarr had been generous enough, how could Laenor not be equally curious? "I wonder what information and Valyrian scrolls those were," Laenor said lightly. "Daemon, if you would be generous enough to tell me, I would be most grateful."
Daemon, unbothered as ever, replied, "I was never much of a secret keeper, as you know, Laenor. But perhaps I'll regale you with a few interesting things I've discovered after reading those scrolls— after you tell me why you're so hesitant to accept this betrothal. Then, we'll both have something to be grateful for."
Laenor should have thought twice before asking. Still, there was something else he wanted to know — something only Daemon would tell him truthfully. His parents, intentionally or not, seemed to be hiding what the realm said about him.
"Daemon," Laenor began, the humor gone from his voice, "I want you to tell me what the realm truly thinks of me — how the lords, both minor and great, perceive me. I know the northern lords don't care much about my wielding magic, so long as I don't sacrifice people or children of the North to perform it. But I doubt the South feels the same. So tell me — what are the worst rumors they've spread about me?"
Daemon's face turned confused. After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth, "Since when did you start to care about the opinions of men lesser than us?" asked Daemon, confusion and skepticism clear on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Laenor saw Rhaenyra's brow arch lightly, a look of realization dawning on her face before she masked it and resumed sitting in silence while Aurane ranted about something beside her.
"Since someone enlightened me about the worst of it all, I need to know what else they are spreading before it is too late. And Daemon, I might not care about their opinions, but do not forget that most of House Velaryon's wealth comes from trade, which we conduct with all of these sheep of Westeros. And as heir of House Velaryon, I need to maintain good relations with them to keep the gold flowing into our vaults," replied Laenor, offering an excuse he could muster at the moment. In truth, it was merely curiosity and nothing more.
"Still, I think you should concern yourself with matters other than the opinions of these Andals. But to answer your earlier question—after returning to Dragonstone, I have reduced my visits to court and focused instead on magic, as I always intended. My brother was elated with this decision, I might add. Yet once every moon or two, I do visit King's Landing. From what I know, we both have been declared enemies of the Faith, heretics as well. They are the ones spreading tales of your vile deeds, just as they have of mine. Last I heard, we were both branded demons from the Seven Hells—reveling in debauchery and practicing that malevolent force known to them as magic."
Daemon paused briefly, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "Knowing these things, it was natural for me to pay a visit to the Grand Septon. The septons and septas have always disliked me—a mutual sentiment—but now it seems they hate me still, though what surprised me most was discovering they despise you, Laenor, even more than me. A rare feat, I must admit," Daemon said, smirking in clear amusement.
He took a deep breath before continuing, "Besides that, there are many such rumors you need not trouble yourself with. Rumors are not something a man worth his salt would waste thought upon; every lord with a touch of wisdom knows what they are—just words carried by the wind. Not to mention, some are quite flattering." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Take this, for example—about a year ago, when I was in the Street of Silk paying a visit to someone dear to me, I heard a whore proclaim that magic had made Laenor's cock so long and girthy that even horses would feel small in comparison. And that you visit her in the dark every so often, as she was the only one who could take the full length of it."
Daemon's laughter rang hollow in the chamber as every other gaze turned toward him in disbelief.
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