I'm rewatching House of the Dragon Season 1, and wow, I really miss those little Daemon moments. Those moments with his daughters, with his sons, when he gives Jacaerys a lesson, that sweet husband he could have been to Laena or to Rhaenyra herself, even the way he steps in to protect Lucerys during the Driftmark incident and the confrontation between Rhaenyra and Alicent. Those brief scenes that remind us he can be a father too.
One of my biggest issues with HOTD is honestly the way they adapted Daemon's character. If it wasn't for Matt Smith and the incredible job he does with the role, I don't think I'd be nearly as invested in the show's version of Daemon.
They took a character who was complex, dark, unpredictable, and genuinely fascinating, and turned him into someone whose choices often feel underwritten, who's strangely detached from the people he cares about, and who sometimes seems to be wandering through the story without a clear direction.
Those small moments of tenderness, protectiveness, and vulnerability are part of what made him so compelling in Season 1. I wish the show had continued to explore that side of him instead of moving further away from it.
Don't get me wrong, in the books, Daemon was always cynical, and I'll always love that about him. He's a kind of dark hero whose moral compass isn't always clear—in fact, it's never clear—but those details are what make him imperfect, what make him unique, what make him feel like a real character. To me, he's one of the best characters in the universe because of his complexity, but there was always a quiet loyalty toward his own people—that tough guy who loves and respects his own and protects them too, something you don’t see in the series with him, especially with his daughters, whom he loves and protects in the books.
As for Matt, I feel he understands his character so well that he embodies him so well; my issue is with the scenes they cut, the edits, or the script lines, which don’t always let us enjoy or understand this great character. I want the Daemon who selfishly loves Rhaenyra, but I also want to see the father, the military strategist, and the son of a bitch that everyone fears. To understand why they fear him—not just to see the action, but the reasoning behind the character.
Don’t pay too much attention to me; I’m super passionate about this character. It’s just a thought I needed to get off my chest.
Or, at least, that is what she tells Jace after tricking Rhaena into helping Luke with his Driftmark studies.
Because if Luke is expected to become Lord of the Tides, then Rhaena deserves to learn how to stand beside him, not behind him.
Dragonstone rarely felt still.
Even in its quietest hours, the castle seemed to breathe with the sea. Wind pressed against the stone walls, waves crashed against the cliffs below, and somewhere beyond the black towers, dragons called to one another in low, rumbling cries that echoed through the island like distant thunder.
Valora had always loved it for that.
Dragonstone did not pretend to be gentle. It did not hide what it was beneath tapestries, courtesies, or polished smiles. It was old stone, salt air, fire, and blood. It was Targaryen history carved into every wall.
It was home.
Or at least, one of them.
“Valora.”
She hummed in response but did not slow her pace.
Beside her, Jace lengthened his stride to keep up, dark curls shifting slightly in the wind that swept in from the open archways.
“You are walking as though you mean to declare war on someone.”
Valora glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Do I?”
“You have that look.”
“I have many looks.”
“Yes,” Jace said dryly. “And this is the one you wear when someone is about to regret existing within your reach.”
Valora’s mouth twitched.
At twenty, she had grown into herself with the sort of quiet certainty that made lords twice her age straighten when she entered a room. She wore a light blue gown with gold embroidery. Her silver hair was pinned back from her face in a loose braid, though strands had already escaped around her temples.
Jace had once told her she looked like Mother when she was thinking too hard.
Luke had told her she looked terrifying.
Both had been correct.
“I am not declaring war,” Valora said at last. “I am merely walking.”
“You do not merely do anything.”
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“It was a warning.”
She smiled faintly at that, and Jace narrowed his eyes because he knew that smile.
It was the same smile she had worn at twelve after convincing three lordlings to sponsor blankets and food for Flea Bottom orphans by making them believe it had been their idea. It was the same smile she had worn at fifteen before somehow persuading their grandsire to approve funds for repairs to a fishing village without ever once appearing to ask for coin. It was the same smile she had worn at eighteen when Lord Celtigar had attempted to lecture her on naval taxes and left the meeting promising ships instead.
It was the smile that meant Valora had seen several moves ahead of everyone else and was simply waiting for them to realise they were already standing where she wanted them.
Jace sighed.
“What have you done?”
“Nothing yet.”
“That is not comforting.”
They turned down another corridor, the walls opening briefly to a view of the sea below. The wind swept through, carrying the sharp scent of salt and rain. Jace glanced toward the cliffs, where Vermax rested in the distance, his green wings half-spread as if soaking in the cold air.
For a moment, neither sibling spoke.
It was rare now, moments like this.
When they were children, they had always been together. Valora, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey trailing after one another through halls and courtyards, with Valora leading more often than not, already acting as though she had personally been placed in charge of every living soul unfortunate enough to be related to her.
Now things were different.
They were older. Their lessons had become councils, their childish duties sharpened into real ones. Valora was being prepared for a crown that had always seemed distant but no longer felt impossible to imagine. Jace was being trained to stand beside her as her Hand one day. Luke had begun to feel the weight of Driftmark waiting in his future.
Jace’s gaze flicked briefly to his sister.
Valora was still smiling.
Oh.
There it was.
Ahead, at the end of the corridor, Rhaena stood near one of the arched windows, a book held carefully against her chest. Her pale hair was pulled back neatly, and her gown was a soft blue-grey that suited Dragonstone’s storm-lit halls. She appeared to be reading something, though her eyes kept drifting toward the sea.
She looked up when she heard their footsteps.
“Valora,” Rhaena greeted warmly, then smiled at Jace. “Jace.”
“Rhaena,” Jace said.
Valora’s expression brightened just enough to look innocent.
Jace immediately mistrusted it.
“Rhaena, I am glad we found you,” Valora said.
Rhaena blinked. “You were looking for me?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Jace slowly turned his head toward his sister.
Valora ignored him completely.
“Luke has been given several new texts for his Driftmark studies,” Valora continued smoothly. “Trade routes, port duties, the histories of past Lords of the Tides, agreements with the fishing villages, and some rather dull records regarding dock repairs.”
Rhaena’s expression softened with interest. “That does sound like a great deal.”
“It is,” Valora said. “And Jace and I were meant to help him go through some of it today.”
Jace opened his mouth.
Valora lightly stepped on his foot.
He shut it again.
Rhaena did not seem to notice.
“Oh,” she said. “Is Luke struggling with it?”
“No,” Valora answered, then tilted her head slightly. “Not exactly. Luke is clever, but he learns better when he is able to speak through things rather than simply stare at parchment until the words start tormenting him.”
Jace snorted softly despite himself. “That is true.”
Valora gave him a brief look that said, behave.
He raised both hands slightly.
Rhaena’s grip tightened a little around her book. “What did you need from me?”
Valora sighed, as if the inconvenience pained her greatly. “Unfortunately, Jace and I have both become rather busy.”
Jace looked at her.
Busy?
Valora did not look back at him.
“Mother wanted me to review the latest letters from the Riverlands,” she continued, lying with the serene confidence of a courtier who had been doing this since childhood. “And Jace has been called to speak with the maester about… something.”
“Something?” Jace repeated before he could stop himself.
Valora’s smile sharpened.
“Yes, Jace. Something.”
Rhaena looked between them, faint amusement touching her face.
Jace pressed his lips together.
Valora turned back to Rhaena. “Would you mind helping Luke with them? Just for today. I know it is an unfair favour to ask without warning, but you have a better patience for ledgers than either of my brothers, and Luke listens to you.”
At that, Rhaena’s cheeks coloured faintly.
“He does?”
Jace looked away, coughing into his fist to hide his grin.
Valora’s eyes glittered with victory.
“He does,” she said gently. “And I think he would be grateful for your help.”
Rhaena hesitated, glancing down at the book in her hands.
“I do not know everything about Driftmark.”
“No one expects you to,” Valora said. “That is why they are called studies.”
Rhaena laughed softly, looking a little reassured.
Valora stepped closer, her voice gentling. “You grew up there. You know its halls, its tides, its people in a way Luke is still learning. You may not realise how much you understand already.”
Something changed in Rhaena’s expression then.
A small thing.
The faint uncertainty in her eyes did not disappear, not entirely, but it softened. Like someone had quietly opened a door she had not realised she was allowed to approach.
“I suppose I could help,” she said.
“Wonderful.” Valora smiled. “He should be in the library by now, likely pretending not to be overwhelmed.”
Jace nodded solemnly. “That does sound like Luke.”
Rhaena’s smile grew.
“I will go to him, then.”
“Thank you,” Valora said warmly.
Rhaena inclined her head before continuing down the corridor, her steps a little quicker now, the book still tucked against her chest.
Valora watched her go.
Jace waited until Rhaena had turned the corner before he looked at his sister.
Then he crossed his arms.
“We are busy?”
Valora clasped her hands behind her back and began walking again.
Jace followed.
“I am certain we could become busy if we tried hard enough.”
“You told Rhaena we were meant to help Luke.”
“We were.”
“No, we were not.”
“We could have been.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Valora’s smile returned, small and pleased.
Jace stared at her.
“You lied.”
“I redirected.”
“You lied.”
“I created an opportunity.”
“You lied very prettily.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not praise.”
“I choose to receive it as such.”
Jace huffed out a laugh despite himself, then shook his head. “We both have spare time.”
“Yes.”
“And Luke does not actually need both of us.”
“No.”
“And Mother did not ask you to review letters from the Riverlands.”
“She might have, eventually.”
“Valora.”
She stopped near one of the open arches.
Beyond it, the sea rolled dark and endless beneath the cliffs. The sky was grey, clouds gathering thickly above the horizon, and the wind tugged loose strands of silver hair across Valora’s face.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then the amusement slipped from her expression, replaced by something quieter.
More serious.
“I want Rhaena to learn as well.”
Jace frowned slightly. “Learn what?”
“How to rule Driftmark.”
That silenced him.
Valora rested one hand against the cool stone of the archway, her eyes still on the sea.
“Luke will be Lord of the Tides one day,” she said. “That has been decided for him since he was a child. He studies ships, ports, ledgers, trade agreements, petitions from fishing villages, old disputes between captains, the histories of the Velaryon fleet. He sits with Grandfather and tries to pretend his shoulders do not stiffen every time someone says Lord of Driftmark.”
Jace looked away.
They both knew Luke did that.
“He is trying,” Jace said quietly.
“I know.” Valora’s voice softened. “He tries very hard. That is why I worry for him.”
Jace turned back to her.
Valora’s gaze remained fixed on the waves.
“Driftmark is not simply a seat,” she continued. “It is people. Sailors. Shipwrights. Merchants. Fishermen. Servants who know when storms will come before any maester reads the sky. Children who grow up with salt in their hair and know the names of ships before they know the names of kings.” Her fingers tapped once against the stone. “Luke must learn them. But he should not have to carry all of it alone.”
Jace’s expression shifted.
Slow understanding settled across his face.
“Rhaena will be his lady wife,” he said.
Valora nodded. “Yes.”
“And you want her prepared.”
“I want her included.”
The correction was gentle, but firm.
Jace absorbed that.
Valora finally looked at him.
“Too often, wives are expected to stand beside their husbands in rule while being given none of the lessons that would allow them to do so well. Then, when they falter, men call them foolish. When they succeed, men call them meddlesome.” Her mouth tightened. “I will not have that for Rhaena.”
Jace was quiet for a long moment.
The wind moved between them.
Below, the waves struck the rocks with a sound like breaking glass.
Valora continued, softer now, “Rhaena has spent too much of her life being measured by what she does not have.”
Jace’s eyes lowered.
No dragon.
The words went unsaid.
They did not need saying.
“She is clever,” Valora said. “Patient. Observant. She notices what others overlook because she has spent years believing herself overlooked. That is not weakness. It could make her a better Lady of Driftmark than half the men who would presume to advise Luke.”
Jace’s face gentled.
“You could have told her that.”
Valora’s smile was sadder this time. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I told her outright, she might think I was only being kind.”
“You are kind.”
“I am strategic.”
“You are both.”
Valora glanced at him, and there was affection in her look now.
“Rhaena does not need someone to hand her importance like a gift,” she said. “She needs to find herself already standing inside it. She needs to sit with Luke, argue over trade routes, ask questions, realise she understands more than she thought, and see that her voice changes the shape of the conversation.”
Jace leaned his shoulder against the opposite side of the archway.
“And Luke?”
“Luke needs to learn to rely on her.”
“He already does.”
“In some ways,” Valora agreed. “But ruling is different. Love is one thing. Partnership is another.”
Jace studied her carefully.
“You have thought about this a great deal.”
“I think about many things a great deal.”
“Yes,” he said. “That is why you always look tired.”
She rolled her eyes.
He smiled, but it faded slightly as he looked back toward the corridor where Rhaena had gone.
“Do you truly think Luke will mind?”
Valora laughed softly. “Luke? No. He will be relieved someone else is there to make sense of the ledgers. And if that someone is Rhaena, he will listen far more attentively than he would to either of us.”
Jace’s mouth twitched. “True.”
“And Rhaena will be less likely to let him escape by claiming he has dragon-riding practice.”
“He has used that excuse before.”
“He uses it constantly.”
“So do you.”
“I am the future queen. My excuses are more dignified.”
“They are not.”
“They are better phrased.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Valora gave him a look of exaggerated offence.
Jace laughed under his breath.
Then, after a pause, he said, “You know, most people would simply arrange a proper lesson.”
“Yes.”
“You chose deception.”
“I chose subtlety.”
“You chose deception.”
“I chose subtle deception.”
Jace shook his head, smiling despite himself.
“You are impossible.”
“And yet effective.”
“Unfortunately.”
Valora pushed away from the archway and began walking again.
Jace fell into step beside her.
They moved through Dragonstone’s halls together, the sound of the sea following them like a second heartbeat. For a while, neither spoke. The quiet between them was comfortable, shaped by years of shared childhood, arguments, secrets, and the peculiar exhaustion of being raised beneath crowns that had not yet settled upon their heads.
At last, Jace glanced at her.
“You know you will have to do this for me as well.”
Valora raised a brow. “Find someone to trick you into studying?”
“No. Teach me how to help you rule.”
Her steps slowed just slightly.
Jace did not look at her when he said it. His gaze stayed forward, but his voice was steady.
“You are always thinking ten steps ahead,” he said. “About Luke. About Rhaena. About Mother. About the smallfolk. About alliances and laws and what people will need before they know to ask for it.” He swallowed. “But if I am to be your Hand one day, I need to know how to stand beside you properly.”
Valora’s expression softened.
For all his teasing, for all his boyish pride and occasional stubbornness, Jacaerys had always possessed a heart that reached for duty even when fear pulled at him.
She reached out and gently looped her arm through his.
“You already do, Jace.”
He looked at her.
“You do,” she repeated. “You listen. You care. You question me when I am being insufferable.”
“That happens often.”
“Do not ruin the moment.”
He smiled.
Valora squeezed his arm lightly.
“But yes,” she said. “I will teach you everything I know.”
“And when you do not know something?”
“Then we shall learn it together.”
Jace nodded.
That seemed to satisfy him.
They reached the end of the corridor, where the path split toward the library in one direction and the council chamber in another.
From somewhere far off, Luke’s voice echoed faintly.
“No, I know where Driftmark is, Rhaena, I just do not understand why this map makes the docks look like a dying crab.”
There was a pause.
Then Rhaena’s laughter rang softly through the hall.
Jace covered his mouth with one hand.
Valora smiled.
A real one this time.
“See?” she said. “Already useful.”
Jace glanced toward the library, then back at her.
“Should we help them?”
Valora considered it for exactly one second.
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” she said serenely. “We are busy.”
Jace stared at her.
“With what?”
Valora resumed walking toward the council chamber.
“Finding something to be busy with.”
Jace laughed, shaking his head as he followed.
Behind them, in the library, Rhaena sat beside Luke with a map spread between them and a ledger open at her elbow. Luke leaned over the parchment, brows furrowed in concentration as Rhaena pointed toward one of the marked harbours.
“No,” she said, still smiling, “that is not a dying crab. That is Hull.”
Luke looked at the map.
Then at her.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“It looks like a crab.”
“It does,” Rhaena admitted. “But it is still Hull.”
Luke blinked, then laughed.
Rhaena laughed too.
And when Luke pushed the ledger toward her and asked what she thought of the port repairs listed there, she hesitated only briefly before leaning closer to read.
Not as an observer.
Not as someone merely keeping him company.
But as someone whose answer mattered.
Outside, the sea struck the cliffs of Dragonstone.
Inside, quietly and without ceremony, the future Lord and Lady of Driftmark began to learn together.
You guys know what I just thought about. I'm so not ready to mourn Lucerys tomorrow. We talk about everybody else's grief but you know whose grief we rarely acknowledge... Rhaena's. There are multiple discussions about Targaryen soulmatism and rarely do people ever bring up Luke and Rhaena. While little Jace was ultimately Baela's from the beginning, Luke was also Rhaena's from the start too. I'm talking about the show timeline. Let me break it down and let me break your hearts while I'm at it. After the squabble with their uncle and cousin respectively Rhaena was defending Luke like her life depended on it “He broke Luke's nose” repeatedly shouting it so people will get that Aemond “broke Luke's nose”. Jace was riding for Baela and Rhaena was riding for Luke. Beth said in the team black panel that the four of them were a little family unit in their family unit, serving baby besties and probably first loves realness. Rhaena remained on Dragonstone after Rhaenys took Baela as her ward and while Jace was her big bro she probably connected to Luke the most, both with their respective imposter syndrome and just being the babies of the quartet. Let's skip to the betrothed scene and Rhaena smiling and gushing behind knowing she gets to marry Luke, him being happy but also nervous cause his legitimacy as heir to Driftmark was being called into question, she was also picked up on his emotions across the room when Vaemond was being a parasite. At the dinner scene before it went to shit, when he moved his chair so he could be closer to her and the two of them being little smiley shits together, she also picked up on his anger when Almond started needling them about their parentage. Then we get to the war council meeting which was their last on screen interaction, the four of them smiling at each other and then Jace volunteering themselves as envoys. She immediately picked up on his anxiousness and her being anxious herself cause she knew but she also didn't know something was definitely about to be amiss. They were so in sync and that was so beautiful. Rhaena and Baela didn't get the spotlight they deserved in season 1 but Phoebe really did phenomenal with what little they were given. I'm not ready for tomorrow. The angst!! The grief!! The pain! The absolute heartbreak!!! HBO is probably gonna muck it up and I'm gonna hate them for it but we can't talk about Targaryen soulmatism and not mention them frfr. Literally had the potential to be one of the best love stories to come out of Westeros. Could you imagine the songs and the ballads and the tales they could've sung and told about the Targaryen Velaryon besties fr? We were ROBBED I TELL YOU.
Didn't expect this post to be so long, apologies mates. Is this a safe space to admit that I'm not okay? 💔😭.
