Chapter eight          𓃦         The wolf ring

Daenys will leave in the morning. It's a tale as old as time: someone has to leave first. The sun was barely out and they beat Rhaenyra at leaving. She said goodbye to her mother first. Her chambers already had the balcony doors open and Alicent was leaning against it. The cold morning air washed her hair back, falling on her back.

Her youngest daughter moved quietly, stopping at the foot of the balcony, "mother?"

Alicent turns her face to look at her – a mirror of her own: lines of sleepless nights, eyes far away, like they were both somewhere where they feel happy, "yes? Do not say you are leaving already."

"Cregan received a raven from his uncle," Daenys explains in a quiet almost scared tone, "they are some troubles on the Wall. Some wildings tried to get through and some fight and fuss broke out. Cregan must return to keep everything at peace. I'm sure you will do the same here."

Alicent nods her head, nails digging in her skin, "yes – yes, we will do that."

There's sudden silence. Daenys doesn't know what to say, how to say goodbye. The last time she saw her mother was when she married Cregan. She begged her to come after every birth, every loss, every funeral. Maybe she hates her. Maybe she feels betrayed by her daughter. She wishes to tell her everything – how she feels in the North, how well Cregan treats her, how she feels about her children. She wishes to cling onto her mother, sob in her shoulder. But she does none of it. She stands by the open balcony doors, her lower lip caught between her teeth before she speak, "I must . . . I must leave now. I will go say goodbye to my brothers and my sister and then we will go."

Alicent feels like a fool. Her fingers ache to slide across her daughter's cheek, ask her about the scar on her eyebrow, of how she feels, what she's thinking and doing. But she does none of it – it makes her think it might be for the best and that she'll break if she watches her leave once more. Instead, she nods, "uhm . . . yes – yes, do say goodbye to the family."

Daenys doesn't move to hug her, neither does her mother. There's perhaps a mutual understanding that if they do so, they won't let go. Her daughter nods her head at her mother and slides out of her chambers, out of her life.

There's Ser Criston standing outside the doors, guarding her mother. He bows his head when the fidgeting princess walks outside. She goes to leave but turns to the man, "it was good seeing you again, Ser."

"You are leaving again, princess?" he asks with a sort of longing, fear of what was to come.

Daenys nods, fingers twisting the ring, "I'm afraid so. The North needs Cregan."

"The North needs Cregan," he echoes her words – they need him, not you, he thinks, "it was good seeing you as well, princess. I do wish you luck."

"Thank you, Ser," she turns to leave but stops herself, "do look out for my mother, please? Not just – not just by standing outside the chambers. Be there for her, I beg you."

Criston watches her face – there are tears forming on the edges of her eyelids, fingers aching and fidgeting. He nods, "of course, princess."

Daenys doesn't plan on saying goodbye to Aegon. She thinks that he's not her brother anymore – she sees him drink himself away in the gardens from Helaena's chambers. He knows he's always been this way but nostalgia is a strange and funny feeling. She'd dot over her older brother like he was the sun itself, she'd trail behind him like a small duckling while he was doing awful things she wasn't aware of.

"He says he misses you," Helaena hummed from a pile of clothes on the floor where she was working on her needle work, "he's often drunk when he says it."

"He says many things when he's drunk," Aemond hums then from his seat by the fireplace while the twins play between him and Helaena.

"He says he misses me?" Daenys asks as she turns from the windows to look at her siblings.

Helaena doesn't look up when she speaks Aegon's drunken words, "Skoros would se zokla gaomagon lo nyke istan naejot gūrogon zȳhon arlī lenton?" (What would the wolf do if I were to take her back home?)

She hears their eldest brother laugh outside with his friends, "the Keep is no longer my home."

"And Winterfell is?" Aemond prompts from his seat but he doesn't look her way, his one good eye staring at the fire in front.

He means to annoy her, to remind her of all that she is not, "I'd like to believe so. It's where I live, where my husband lives, my children and where . . ."

Daenys looks from Aemond's side and back outside. There's a sudden silence again. Where my other children are buried, she meant. She wasn't sure if they caught what she meant but Helaena did. Despite the world caging her as a dreamer and that she is lost in her own mind, she knew far more than anyone. Her elder sister looked up from her work and her way, "Ziry iksos sȳz naejot feel mundagon, ao gīmigon? Ziry iksos skoros humans gaomagon, īlon feel ōdres se grief. Ao gaomagon daor jorrāelagon naejot feel quba syt feeling mundagon." (It is fine to feel sad, you know? It is what humans do, we feel pain and grief. You do not need to feel bad for feeling sad.)

"Nyke gaomagon daor gīmigon skoriot naejot dīnagon ziry," she whispers and she watches Aegon outside, wishing she could be as care free as he was though neither were aware of what was coming. (I do not know where to put it)

Helaena watches her youngest sister place her hands on her hips, looking on the floor of the chambers, a whisper leaving her lips as if it was a secret and they were children again, "Nyke emagon sīr olvie jorrāelagon syt zirȳ." (I have so much love for them)

"Ao gōntan daor tepagon zirȳ nykeā drēje tžTargārien burial," spoke Aemond from the fireplace, "skoro syt?" (You did not give them a proper Targaryen burial. Why?)

Daenys though a dagger was pushed through her chest. When she looked down, she saw no blood, "Kesrio syt Meraxes daoriot enjoy se sōnar. Se nyke wasn't gīda konīr skori pōnta istan ry buried." (Because Meraxes doesn't enjoy winter. And I wasn't even there when they were all buried)

"Se nyke māzigon kesīr naejot vestragon geros ilas daor naejot sagon riddled ondoso ao, Aemond," she continued and she bit back tears. She wasn't sure if her twin knew of all the stress he's causing her or if he's doing it unintentionally. She hoped for the latter. (And I came here to say goodbye not to be riddled by you, Aemond)

He looked at him, tilting his head. She can see he regrets his words, "Nyke apologize, mandia." (I apologize, sister)

Helaena moves in her pile of fabric – green; something their mother or grandsire got her – and rested on her knees as she wrapped her arms around Daenys' waist. The younger of the sister bit back a grunt of pain when Helaena squeezed her aching stomach in her embrace, "Visit issa aderī, aril." (Visit me soon, again)

Daenys knows she means only herself. Helaena, despite what others believe, understood those around more than anyone else ever could. She knew it pained Daenys to watch other members of her family, to be anywhere near them. She also understood that Daenys wished to save her too. Her younger sister's fingers slid across the back of her silver hair in a comforting nature, "Nykeā ao kostagon visit issa isse ropatasōnar. Nyke sure everyone would jorrāelagon naejot ūndegon ao konīr." (Or you can visit me in Winterfell. I'm sure everyone would love to see you there)

Her sister hums something in the fabric of her gown against her stomach, "Hen aōha rotting womb, rūkluni shall mazverdagon." (From your rotting womb, flowers shall grow)

Daenys didn't hear the words. Maybe she refused to hear them, maybe she was too scared to do so. She pressed a kiss on the top of Helaena's head before she let go of her. She padded across the toy filled floors of the chambers and to Aemond. She stood by his armchair and waited to see if he'll do something.

He does – he moves swiftly from the armchair he occupied for the last hour and wraps his arms around his twin. Her fingers cling on the back of his black doublet like a lifeline. Like she knows she'll never see him or her family ever again. It's a dreadful feeling she had since dinner last evening. Aemond murmurs against her shoulder how much he'll miss her. She wonders if he really means it or it's just a phrase he says.

Daenys wasn't allowed in the King's chambers to say goodbye. They told her he was feeling sick that morning and that the Maesters refused to allow anyone inside. She wrote a letter then – telling her father she must return to her duties in the North, to thank him for the organised Tourney for the twins, for letting her stay for these few days and wishing him a quick recovery. Unfortunately, Viserys would never read the letter as his body was already rotting away in the chambers. Ser Criston found him dead early in the morning. He rushed to tell the Queen and she instructed the Kingsguard to lock the chambers, prohibiting anyone from entering. Anyone who saw the King's dead body was thrown in the cells underneath the Keep or killed. The word was not supposed to get to the world, especially not to Rhaenyra who'd claim her right as heir.

The last person Daenys said her farewells was Ser Criston. He awaited outside the Keep's yard when the servant's pushed baggage of the Starks upon their carriage. He watched the sky where Meraxes flew over the Keep. The princess appeared next to him, fingers wrapped around her wrist as she watched the dragon above, "beautiful, isn't she?"

"It's not a word that I'd describe the beast," he tries to jest but when he hears no laughter from Daenys, he turns his head to look at him, "my apologies, my princess. I was out of line."

"You were," she replied and looked away from Meraxes and to him, "but apology accepted. I know many do not share the same love for the dragons as we do. They are not creatures to us."

"It makes you closer to the Gods than to us, no?" he speaks and she knows he's not joking; he's not making fun out of her.

Daenys shakes her head, "it's what my ancestors said to make themselves feel better about burning people alive with the dragons. I do not wish to see them fight each other again. Nor kill innocents in senseless battles. I wish . . . I wish they can just be free out there."

He listens to her and speaks then, "is Meraxes leaving with you?"

The dragon roars in the distance when her rider replies, "unfortunately no. I believe Meraxes prefers the warmth of King's Landing than the coldness of Winterfell. I do wish to have her there but . . ."

She thinks too much of what others do, say, feel, Criston remembers. She'd rather see her dragon content than to be selfish for one single moment. He nods, "you are kind, princess."

"Foolish," she sighs quietly as the Snow brothers pull each other in the carriage, Cregan following with Jon and Aranna with Daella.

Daenys turns her head to Criston again and places the wolf ring in his hand. His brows furrow when she speaks, "if you can return this to Aegon's chambers?"

He nods though unaware of the reason why, "princess."

"Thank you," she offers him a weak smile before she moves to the carriage. She turns once more to look at the Keep, "do take care of my family, Ser Criston. I trust you more than I trust anyone within these walls to fulfil your task."

His fingers wrapped around the ring when he nods, "thank you for your words, my princess. I will look after them."

Daenys nods and disappears inside the carriage. She hears the Stark's servant hoisting the horse and the wooden carriage moves. Her eyes follow the outlines of her home, her past and all her nightmares. She silently says goodbye to her family. It may as well be the last day she sees them.