The Son of Ice and Fire: Lost in Time pt.4

Laena sat at the large table, her eyes fixed on the new guest in her home. The great hall of High Tide was filled with light, the glow from the chandeliers above casting a warm glow over the long dining table. Her father sat at the head, his silver beard glinting under the candlelight. Beside him, her mother, whose beauty only increased as she aged, sat gracefully. To Laena's left was her brother, who seemed just as interested in their guest as she was.

The guest in question, seated in the place of honor beside her father, was Maekar Belaerys. The man had appeared out of nowhere, accompanied by one of the largest dragons she had ever seen—one that had taken Vhagar's place as the largest dragon in the world.

Her gaze drifted to the food spread across the table. It was a feast fit for lords—roasted boar, venison, and fish caught fresh from the sea, all accompanied by an array of fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. A servant refilled her goblet with more wine as she turned her gaze back to the mysterious Dragonlord .

This was the Dragonlord  that all the merchants and travelers had been whispering about—the one who had conquered Slaver's Bay, ruined the Dothraki, the so-called Father of Freedom, the Breaker of Chains. And now, here he was, sitting at their family table, speaking animatedly with her father and mother.

To Laena, he was exactly what she had imagined when she heard the tales—strong, powerful, with a presence that seemed to fill the room. And beyond all that… he was handsome. There was something about him, something that drew her in, that made her curious beyond reason.

She was so focused that she barely noticed Laenor leaning in closer to her, his voice low and teasing. “You shouldn’t stare so hard, sister. He’s not going anywhere,” he whispered, a smirk on his lips.

Laena blinked, realizing she’d been staring. She shot her brother a sideways glance, her own lips curling into a wry smile. “Perhaps you should do the same,” she whispered back, her voice laced with mock annoyance.

Laenor's grin only widened as he looked back at Maekar. “Where has he been all my life?” he said with a hint of longing.

“Conquering half of Essos, apparently,” she replied, her tone dry, though there was an undeniable note of admiration in her voice. She looked back at Maekar, her curiosity growing.

She finally let her attention drift towards the conversation at the table, catching her mother’s voice as Rhaenys leaned forward slightly, her eyes fixed on the Dragonlord . “So, tell me, Lord Belaerys,” she said, her voice smooth, “are the stories my husband told me about your origins true?”

There was a moment of silence, and Laena watched Maekar as he set his goblet down, his gaze steady as he looked at her mother. “It is unbelievable,” he admitted, a slight smile touching his lips. “And you may not believe me, but I am indeed from before the Doom, as you call it—sent forward in time by strong and powerful magics,” Maekar said, his voice calm, as though he were speaking of something as mundane as the weather.

Laena’s eyes widened slightly. Forward in time? The words echoed in her mind, almost too incredible to believe. And yet… as she looked at him, she found herself wanting to believe it.

Beside her, Laenor leaned in again, his voice low, his breath warm against her ear. “This man is lying,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he studied Maekar.

Laena barely had time to process his words before she saw Maekar’s eyes shift, his gaze slowly turning towards her and Laenor. “I am not lying, Lord Laenor,” he said, his voice steady and a bit amused. “It is simply the truth.”

Her father looked sharply at Laenor, a frown forming on his face. Laenor flushed, his expression turning sheepish as he looked down at his plate, suddenly very interested in the food before him.

It was her mother who spoke next, her voice softer, her eyes meeting Maekar’s. “You must understand, Lord Belaerys,” she began, her tone careful, “how difficult it is for us to believe such tales. They sound like stories from an old bard’s song.”

Maekar nodded, his expression open and understanding. “Of course,” he said. “I do not expect you to believe me. I understand that it must seem impossible.” He paused, his eyes growing distant, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—passing over his face. “My old life is over and gone. I cannot get it back. I have accepted that and started anew.”

Corlys quickly nodded in agreement, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “And what a new life you have built,” he said, raising his goblet slightly. “I believe you, Lord Belaerys, and I say your past matters little compared to what you have accomplished. You have done what only a few in history have ever done.”

He gestured broadly, his eyes bright with admiration. “Six years, and an empire the size of the Seven Kingdoms! Daemon and I merely pacified the Stepstones in that time,” Corlys said, a hint of humor in his tone, though it was clear he was genuinely impressed.

Laena’s gaze was once again drawn to Maekar. She studied him, her thoughts racing. Could it be true? Was this man truly from before the Doom? Had he walked the streets of Valyria itself? The very thought seemed impossible, and yet, there he was—a man of flesh and blood, speaking with her father as though his origins were not the tales of legends.

There was a strength to him, a presence that made her believe, even if only for a moment, that perhaps the impossible was indeed real. And if it was true… What stories could he tell? What knowledge did he hold? Laena felt her heart quicken at the thought. This man was a mystery—a legend come to life—and she could not help but be drawn to him.

As Laena pondered, Maekar's gaze drifted towards her, his gray eyes meeting hers briefly. He smiled—a small, knowing smile—and Laena felt her cheeks warm again, a blush rising that she hoped was hidden in the dim light. She quickly looked away, her hands fiddling with the edge of her sleeve, her thoughts a tangled mix of curiosity, disbelief, and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Laenor leaned in again. “Careful, sister. You’re staring again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Laena shot him a glare, her eyes narrowing, though there was no true malice in it. “Quiet,” she muttered, her voice sharp but her lips twitching with a smile.

Laenor chuckled, raising his goblet in mock salute. “I’m just saying. I’d hate for you to scare away the great Dragonlord  Maekar Belaerys,” he said, his tone playful.

Laena ignored him, her eyes returning to Maekar, watching as he spoke with her father, wanting to know more about this man out of time… literally.

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The next four days seemed to pass in a blur. Laena watched as her father and mother spent those days giving Dragonlord  Belaerys a tour of High Tide and its surroundings, showcasing the wealth, influence, and grandeur of House Velaryon.

They took him through the tall halls of their keep, the vast treasuries filled with gold and silver, and the harbors filled with ships that spoke of their unmatched power at sea. The paintings that adorned the walls, the tapestries of battles long past, and the rich Velaryon banners—all were meant to impress upon Maekar the legacy of their house.

Sometimes, her father called on her to join them, walking alongside as they showed their esteemed guest her father’s greatest accomplishment, High Tide. She would often find herself glancing at Maekar, wondering if the tales he told of his origins were true. Was he truly from old Valyria? If so, how could he be impressed by High Tide, by anything they showed him? Surely nothing here could compare to the splendor of Valyria. Maekar must have lived among the towering spires and streets of pure marble—things she had only read about.

Sometimes, she found herself wondering if Maekar was simply being polite, pretending to be impressed to indulge her father. The man was hard to read. He was attentive, always listening, always courteous, but Laena couldn't help but feel that there was something he wasn't showing—some part of him he kept hidden.

Every day she was present in the mornings when the Dragonlord  sparred with her brother and other knights in the castle.

He was a beast with the sword, his movements precise and fluid, like he had spent a lifetime in battle. He beat Laenor—and every other warrior who challenged him—in minutes, his blade moving too quickly for them to counter. Laena saw the way her brother’s face flushed, the frustration in his eyes as he was bested by Maekar, and yet the Dragonlord  was always gracious, never arrogant, never boastful.

Strangely, though, she noticed that Maekar never used the sword he carried with him—the one he called Lightbringer. Instead, he used a plain steel blade, something common. It only added to the mystery surrounding him.

As the days went on, she found herself spending more time with Maekar. Whether it was during the tours of High Tide or simply sitting by the fire after dinner, there were moments when it was just the two of them—moments that allowed her to get to know him a little better.

She discovered that he was not just a man of strength and power. He was thoughtful, perceptive, and he had a dry wit that often caught her off guard. He spoke to her about the places he had seen, about the people he had freed. He spoke of Slaver’s Bay and the cities that now thrived without chains. His passion for what he had built, for what he wanted to achieve, shone through when he spoke, and Laena found herself captivated.

She had asked him why he had freed the slaves when he conquered Slaver's Bay. Was Valyria not a place where slavery was commonplace?

"There were many who detested it," he had said. "I was one of them." He told her that perhaps the Doom was a punishment from the gods for their cruelty towards their fellow humans.

She was learning so much about her ancestors. Maekar told her of both the good and the bad, but she realized it was mostly the bad. There was always a sadness in his eyes when he spoke of his past—She realized… Maekar was someone who had lost much and was trying to build something new out of the ashes.

Slowly, she began to feel something grow between them—something more than just fascination. It wasn't just his handsome face or his strength that drew her in. It was the way he spoke, the way he listened to her, the way he treated her. He asked her about her life, about Vhagar, about her hopes for the future. He listened when she spoke, and there was a warmth in his gaze, a sincerity that she hadn’t expected.

At times, Laena caught her father glancing at the two of them, and she began to wonder if her father had intentions beyond merely hosting a Dragonlord . Was he pushing them together? Was this all part of his plan?

The thought made her heart race, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling within her.

A part of her was suspicious—she knew her father was ambitious, always thinking of alliances, of ways to elevate House Velaryon. And what better alliance than a match with a Dragonlord? Especially one with half of Essos under his control. She wasn’t naive; she knew her father's mind. He had done it with the Sealord's son, after all, and that was how she had ended up stuck with that spendthrift.

And yet, now with Maekar, she found that she didn’t object to it.

She didn’t mind the thought of catching Maekar's eye.

In fact, she would very much like that.

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I wrote this before I got sick. There was more to this chapter, and I’m going to add that to the next chapter and post it tomorrow.