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damn-stark · 2 months ago

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Chapter 23 Mother I’m tired

Chapter 23 of Moonlight

A/N- Daemon you big softy

Warning- swearing, some violence, talks of pregnancy and blood, angst!!, fluff!!!, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 463-465

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

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“Dear Princess,

I hope this finds you well.

Well, actually, I hope this finds you at all—

You scoff in amusement and muster a faint smile.

—We're separated by two different sides of this war so I find writing to you quite difficult, but if you ever find yourself back with your mother you’ll read this and know that you’re on my mind with every step I take throughout this relentless war.

The truth is I want rid of you. You are a married woman and no matter how much I desire the death of your perfect husband, life is cruel and may spit in the face of my desires. It already stomped on it when you had to leave to marry him, so it may pierce its hateful blade in my heart and hurt me even more so.

Alas even if I know I’m in world pain clinging onto a fragment of hope that fate will unite us for the rest of our lives, I still hope. I still wait for any word from you, or about you like a hopeless fool. Which is why when I got the message you sent with the brother from the Night’s Watch, my breath got caught. I’m gladdened by the fact that you’re doing okay, I hope it is true, words from the mouths of others can only assure me so much, and I know you too, I know the mask you put on in front of the masses.

Then again I suppose it’s necessary for people like us, now more than ever, but that is why I hope that you continue to be okay. Or really as okay as one can be after losing so much.

I am sorry, darling. My heart and my thoughts are with you. I know how much you loved your brother. He was a great and honorable man—

No matter how much you wanted to hold back, tears break out of your eyes and pour down your face, staining the silks that cover your pillows. Tears that come from a deep and great sorrow that you have refused to feel since Jacaerys death, but bombard you now over old words from a man you adore. Because of course he out of everyone you know can break the shell that shielded you from feeling deep and heavy grief that you didn’t want to feel.

And why would you want to feel it? You had already endured so much pain, why would you want to deal with a much greater one? One you could possibly never recover from?

But he made you feel it. Him, and being back with your family made you feel all the hurt.

Ever since you’ve stepped foot in King’s Landing all you have felt is a great and paralyzing depression. Ever since you fell into bed it seems like you can’t will yourself to get out of it, or will yourself to get even a short nap. You’re just awake staring at the ceiling thinking about who you lost and who you love. It’s as if being with Aemond, being away from all that reminds you of who you can’t see anymore helped you avoid the pain, but now that you’re away from Aemond and away from any excuse to distract yourself, the pain has increased tenfold.

It makes you want to stop reading the letter to at least avoid feeling a sliver of pain even though you have already been hit with stormy wave after stormy wave with no clearing in sight.

Then again how can you stop mid-way when he took time to write to you and took a risk for him and yourself?

—He did not deserve the fate he got. He deserved a good and long life, I believe that and I am sorry he didn’t get it. I’m sorry you had to watch him take his last breath, but then again I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted anyone else by his side. He loved you, I saw that. He cared deeply for you, I saw that too. Jacaerys loved you, I hope you know that darling.

Just like I hope you know that I wish I could relate to your pain, it would make your suffering a little less, but I can’t even fathom your pain. Even still I want to try, please let me try. Don't isolate yourself, please. If not me, confide in someone else, I just don’t wish you to be alone, okay?

With that said I do hope you keep making a name for yourself, My Princess.

I hope that fate puts us on the same side so we can fight side by side, that would be the greatest honor of my life.

Until then, or until we win this war.

Cregan.”

More tears stream down the curve of your cheeks, tears that bring out sob after sob and choke you up until you have to bring yourself to a stop to catch your breath.

After that, when you can find a way to stop, you stay in bed and Vanessa lets you, giving you space to wallow in your sorrow even though she worries. She tries to get you to eat, but a bite is all you take, choosing instead to lay back in bed with the balcony door and every window open, welcoming in the brisk autumn air that blows the curtains inwards and only makes you snuggle deeper in your blankets as the flowing curtains blow in all around you.

Vanessa thought the letter from Cregan would lift your spirits, but it only worked to sink you deeper, to the point she feels helpless on how to help you at least get up and get dressed or to at least go visit Helaena since she oftentimes finds a way to make you smile without as much as trying.

She almost finds herself thinking that Aemond is the solution. Yet even if he is, he could never join your side to console you, so she has to make your mother your solution. She needs you to make up because it’s something she knows you both desperately need. After all, she’s seen how much your mother has missed you, and she oftentimes finds her carrying one of your rings, or an object that reminds her of you since she doesn’t have you. So she knows you both need each other more than you both can say with words or simple aching looks.

Nevertheless, just as she tries to leave the room to go find the Queen, a knock raps on the door, piquing your interest.

“Come,” you welcome the visitor and push yourself to sit up as the visitor opens the door and reveals that it’s Rhaena and Baela.

“Cousin…” Baela’s greeting trails off as she sees you still in your nightgown. “You missed breakfast,” she says so slowly as she shares a worried glance with Rhaena that you miss since your attention drifts to Ser Jason.

“Ser please come in,” you order, making him stiffen and look at Vanessa with confusion before he very slowly and awkwardly makes his way inside whilst you finally get out of bed.

“It's cold in here,” Rhaena points out as she studies you and is quicker to make out why you’re caught under such a gloomy spell. “Let me close the windows and the balcony door.”

You pass her a mindless hum and meet Ser Jason halfway to study his neck right away, finding the bruises Aemond left him less prominent, but still marked on his skin.

“How’s your head?” You ask as you let your fingers hover over the bruise, causing him to swallow back nervously.

“Uh, I-it’s fine,” he stammers as his eyes are glued to you. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Spending my time in the cell at Harrenhal let me heal without strain.”

You meet his gaze with concern and let your hand fall on his shoulder, which he follows and keeps watching.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him softly. “He…” you trail off and can’t find it in yourself to say that Aemond didn’t mean to because deep inside you know he did. You can’t defend what he did. “He hurt you, and I know that you’re going to say it means nothing, but you are my sworn protector, not his. He shouldn’t have treated you like that, I’m sorry.”

Ser Jason quickly parts his lips but just as he draws in a breath to retort, he doesn’t, instead he drops his gaze and says, “thank you.”

He then proceeds to lift his gaze to your belly and frowns. “Are you alright? Alys said you had a scrape on your side.”

You breathe out deeply and nod. “I’m fine. It was just a stumble.”

“You fell?” Baela blurts, bringing a tense silence to the room that you don’t fill and don’t want Ser Jason to fill, but alas, he does.

“Prince Aemond pushed her.”

You shoot him a threatening glare, but he doesn’t falter. He’s proud.

“He did what?” Rhaena snaps and steps forward. “When? Why?”

“Is that why you left?” Baela bounces off her sister.

“You said you caught yourself on something,” Vanessa also adds her two cents, making you clench your jaw before you rebuttal.

“It was an accident,” you defend yourself but Baela cuts in.

“That’s what they all say. Where is he?”

You shake your head and quickly interject. “No, it was. Harrenhal…has a way of playing tricks on one’s mind. He wasn’t himself. He would never hurt me. Never.”

Baela scoffs and rolls her eyes and just before she can argue Rhaena clutches onto her arm and gives her a warning squeeze that makes her keep her mouth shut.

“I’m fine,” you assure all three women. “And the twins are fine, so please leave it be.”

Baela draws in a breath to argue, but alas Rhaena forces her to stay quiet, letting you return your attention to Ser Jason.

“If you need it, rest, alright?” You cut the conversation short since he found a way to annoy you. “Thank you, Ser.”

He bows his head and turns around on his heels to walk off, making Vanessa do the same to leave you be with your cousins. Yet once you are alone you ruminate in a tense silence that no one can find a way to break.

You all get closer to each other but the silence lingers and mingles for a while until Rhaena is the first one to break the silence. “Are you okay?” She directs at you.

You spare her a glance and nod. “Yes, I am. It was just a scrape.”

“No,” she quickly counters. “I mean are you okay?”

There’s no need for clarification, you realize she’s referring to the puffy eyes, the nightgown you still sport, the unmade bed, and the untouched breakfast Vanessa left in hopes you would finish.

“I,” your voice trembles. “I will be. I think. I just…I miss Jacaerys,” you let yourself say out loud for the first time, causing tears to well up in your eyes and start to sting in both Baela and Rhaena’s eyes since they too feel the same way—“I really miss my brother,” you add with a quiver in your voice, making Baela nod softly before she interjects with a crack in her voice.

“Me too.”

You meet her gaze and hold it, finding the same grief in her eyes and in the eyes of Rhaena.

You all share the same grief and now that you all know and see that you all feel the same way, you mindlessly come together and embrace, finding a sense of relief in your shared grief, in the shared tears you all shed, in the warmth of your embrace, and in your beating hearts thumping in sync against each other.

For so long the grief you held was shoved back. You were more mad than sad for so long, and even if you had wanted to be sad one day, you would have cried by yourself when you wanted to be comforted because Aemond would never get it. He hated your brothers, he hated what and who they were. He would have hugged you if you asked, he would kiss your head and rub your back, but you wouldn’t share the grief you share with the girls now. You would have grieved alone in the arms of the man you loved while he probably thought Jacaerys death was good riddance.

Not Baela or Rhaena though. You all understand each other and genuinely comfort each other in the silence that stays until you break it with a question you can’t hold back. “You’re not mad at me, are you? For leaving?”

You would ask if they’re mad at what you’ve done to House Strong and to support Aemond, but you wouldn’t care if they were because it’s not something that you give any doubting thought to. It happened and it’s in the past. All you care about is if they’re still mad that you left.

“No,” Rhaena reassures you, and then Baela adds her own thoughts.

“Not anymore.”

You chuckle softly and pull away to share a very faint but relieved smile. “I’m happy to be with you two again.”

Rhaena grabs your shoulder and offers you a much sweeter smile. “I’m happy you’re back where you belong too.”

Baela hums in agreement before her smile widens. “Why don’t we help you get ready for the day, hm? Get you out of your nightgown so you may feel better.”

You scoff but can’t help but let them do what they please, finding yourself enjoying the moment. It’s like a clearing in the dark storm, especially when Aerion is brought to you and joins you and the girls.

Yet a small clearing is all it is, a beam of light that breaks through the dark clouds but doesn’t rid the storm. The storm still swirls and keeps your mind and spirit dim. You still want to sulk in your bed and not do a single thing, but alas you’re distracted and thankful for it.

A part of you forgets the war happening past the city. You’re making a sweet memory with your cousins and live in the obliviousness for a short moment until the door opens and your mother walks in, bringing in the reminder of the travesty of war.

“Ma!” Aerion exclaims and grins as he points at your mother making her way into the room. “Ma!”

Your lips twitch to a smile at the reaction your son gives your mother, and you can’t help but press a gentle kiss on the back of his head before you look at your mother with a fading smile and growing concern.

“Your Grace,” Rhaena, Baela, and you greet your mother, bringing a short smile to her face before she directs her attention at just you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she interjects as she comes to a stop a few feet before you.

“No, we’re done,” Baela responds. “We wanted to braid her hair but we left it for later so we didn’t take up her entire day.”

Your mother hums in comprehension and lets out a deep breath before she continues. “Then I hope you don’t mind that I steal the princess from your company.”

“Of course not,” Rhaena doesn’t hesitate, bringing an awkward smile to your lips—“I can take Aerion,” she adds and doesn’t linger back before she walks over and takes your son from you. Which he doesn’t mind, he goes willingly and passes your mother a happy smile.

“We’ll see you later,” Baela directs at you and then turns to your mother to curtsy before she follows Rhaena out, leaving you and your mother alone in your chambers that is riddled with a very deafening silence that neither of you know how to break. Should you linger in the silence until the tension leaves? Or just break it altogether?

What should you say first?

There’s so much you need to say—

“You look well in silver and black,” your mother breaks the silence, drifting your gaze to her and then back to your gown to stroke over the wrinkles.

“Thank you,” you respond softly and blink to slowly look back up at her, finding one of your rings attached to a gold necklace around her neck but not daring to comment on it.

“Could you accompany me to where we keep Balerion’s skull?” She finally starts to clue you in as to why she’s here, making you nod softly in agreement before following her out of your chambers and toward your destination, ending up in another deafening silence that lasts longer than before.

“I hope you don’t mind that I let Alicent see Aerion every day at dinner time,” your mother brings up, answering that certain question that you had in mind. “She requested spending time with him and she’s behaved so I let her. I hope that’s alright with you.”

You quickly respond with a nod and then follow up with a reassuring response. “Of course, that’s fine, after all, she’s also his grandmother and regardless of how she’s behaved with me she does treat him well and loves him. Besides, he loves her to bits, so I know he loves spending his time with her.”

Your mother scoffs. “That’s perhaps one of the only redeemable things about her,” she adds. “She loves her grandchildren and seems to treat them far better than she does her children.”

You hum and add an agreeing statement. “Yes, I agree.”

Silence follows after that and accompanies you the entire way to where Balerion’s skull is kept. Even when you come to a stop before the skull of the great dragon, the silence lingers with neither of you knowing what to say first. You just watch the flames dancing on the candles that surround the skull until a candle sitting in front of you dies, letting the smoke rise in an attempt to touch the high ceiling.

“Is it true that you are immune to fire?” Your mother finally asks something she’s been anticipating asking since the first whisper was heard.

“Uh, yes,” you give her a clear answer and avert your gaze. “I…didn’t mean to keep it a secret, I just…wanted to know what I was exactly before I told anyone.”

“The books,” your mother whispers as she shares the dots she connected some time ago. “That’s why you wanted to know about our histories.”

You nod gently. “Yes, but they contained nothing useful,” you say and slowly meet her gaze, finding her eyes full of wonder before they’re stricken with a flicker of sadness.

“I’m sorry I did not know before,” she interjects and glances at one of the dancing flames. “I should have. I’m your mother.”

You shift closer to her and tilt your head to the side to find her gaze and quickly console her. “No, I only recently found out myself. I would have told you. You would be the first person I would have told, but I was scared of what I was. I thought I was some curse, some demon,” you pause and can’t help but smile at the irony of that word because now you embrace such a name. But alas your smile then fades and your face returns to your previous expression. “I have learned to embrace it now though. Watch…” you trail off and lift your hand to tug the sleeve down and then put your fingers in the small candlelight.

Your mother gasps out of instinct, but when you don’t flinch and your flesh doesn’t burn, an awestruck breath gets caught in her throat whilst her eyes glimmer with the same awe.

“The Smallfolk only got to spread what I am because…I burnt a house down,” you admit with some embarrassment. “And Aemond, well he caught me, but it was actually such a relief for him to know…” you trail off and pull your hand back, letting your sleeve fall back in place.

“He made me feel seen and understood, he continued to love me for it and made me feel strong and untouchable…until…all it came to that day at the Gullet,” you didn’t mean to take the conversation to such a dark place, but you couldn’t help it. You can’t help the feelings you’re hit with, and you can’t stop them either. You don’t even try now, not now, not here because you’re with her, your own weakness that lets you let go of this invincible person that you want everyone to know you by as the moment slowly embraces you with a comfort you ached to feel.

“I left the moment I found out what was transcending,” you continue and look at the candlelight before you, unknowingly bringing light to your guilt and grief that rolls in like an angry wave—“I only stopped once to fix my armor but I continued after that and I was still…I was,” you stammer as a thick ball of emotions start to form in your throat. “I was still late. I tried to be there on time.” You nod and snap your watery gaze at her, seeing that her own eyes are starting to water.

“I did. I tried to help him. I got him out of the water, but I-I couldn’t save him, but I tried. You have to believe that I did. You have to believe I wanted to find Viserys. I would never hurt them, mama,” you cry and clutch onto your own hands to plead with all that you are. “I tried so hard. I did. I did. Mama, you have to believe me.”

Tears break out of your mother's eyes and her heart, what little is left, breaks for you, for the way you break down and beg her to believe you even though she never ever blamed you for a thing, or even thought that you had something to do with what happened at the Gullet. It’s why it’s easy for her to finally close that space between you and grab ahold of your face.

“I-I,” you can’t even continue because your tears are choking you and making it hard to breathe.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says words you barely believe but don’t take for granted. It’s like music to your wounded soul. “And I never thought it was. You tried, I know that. I heard it, and I appreciate it with every inch of my heart.”

“You do?” You question her, making her nod gently with a wobbly smile before she slides her hands down to grab your shoulders first and then slide them back to pull you in for an embrace that makes you stiffen and question if it’s real.

For so long you thought you would never feel her embrace, for so long you thought she turned her back on you, and for so long have you been mad at her. So now that you feel her arms wrapped around you, keeping you protected against her, you’re caught in disbelief.

“Mama,” you mewl, and after you realize that she really is hugging you and that it really is given with so much love, you return her embrace with a tight hold. “I…really miss them.”

Your mother nods in agreement and her shoulders shake as she does, letting you know with that alone that you’re sharing the same grief. You’re estranged souls finally connect and comfort each other in your sorrow. You only break the moment so you can pull back and continue sharing what you need to tell her.

“I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I have been such a bad daughter. I’m sorry.”

Your mother draws in shaky breath before she shakes her head and breathes out so she can share what has been weighing her down too. “The fault is not on you alone. I have some blame too. I should have told you about your father, I trust you, he trusted you and I should have not kept that from you out of all people. I’m sorry I did, and you have every right to be mad at me for it.”

“No,” you cut in and bring your hands down to hold hers. “No. I'm not mad anymore. I forgive you, I do.”

A smile twitches on her lips but she’s far from feeling content so she continues. “And I’m sorry it made you feel the way it did. You, My Love, are loved beyond measure. Your father and I,” she says and strokes your cheek. “Have loved you since we found out we were expecting you. You are my first love and my strength. I love you in more ways than I could ever put into words.”

Tears accompany her words, making you lift your hands to wipe them off her cheeks as you cry too.

“I love you my Sweet girl. I love you so much. I could never forsake you, never. You need to know that, you need to remember that,” she presses, causing you to let out a sob as you nod in comprehension.

“I love you too mama,” you muster between sobs. “I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but I do. I Iove you.”

She grins before she presses her forehead against yours and leaves you both finding comfort in your silence and in your presence until your tears dry and your breaths don’t shutter anymore.

“Besides apologizing, I also came to tell you something else,” your mother fills the silence, piquing your curiosity even though you have a clue as to where she’s heading.

“It's a choice that I should have always chosen since the beginning but I let myself get controlled by the men around me,” she continues and grabs your hands firmly. “But I am Queen now. Things are as I say and no one will change my mind or manipulate my choice. I want you to be my heir.”

There it is, right in your reach, all you ever wanted. At long last.

No more wishing, no more questioning what and who you are. You will be heir now. You will be Queen. It’s all you ever wanted and as every word echoes in your head, and you realize that your desires are finally becoming true, you are fascinated by the proposal, by the idea that will no longer just live in your head. It will be real and how can you not be fascinated? How can you be anything but happy and proud?

You’re taken by the moment, by the joy of it all that you’re blinded by your bliss and can’t think of anything else. Not there, not yet.

“Okay,” you whisper with a sweet smile. “I will be your heir.”

Your mother grins and cups your cheek to caress it.

“But what of Aegon and Joffrey? Won’t daemon be upset that you’re picking me over Aegon?” You can’t help but ask, making her scoff as she brings her hands down to grab yours.

“No, we talked about it. He doesn’t mind. He…cares about you, you know? In his own way,” she says, making you scrunch your nose—“just…try and be friendly. He’s really turned over a new leaf. He wants to try.”

You hold her gaze with disgust, but he also didn’t do what you thought he did so you perhaps have judged him too harshly, so it wouldn't hurt to try. For her though! Only because she wants you to.

“Alright,” you reassure her and make her eyes glimmer with joy. “And before we go,” she continues. “There’s something else. Something that I need to pass down to you now that you’re my heir.”

Your eyebrows pinch together and you wait in silence for her to answer your curiosity.

“It’s about a prophecy passed down from ruler to heir since the reign of Aegon the Conqueror. It's a prophecy about the Prince that was Promised—”

“They will help defeat the dead that comes with a long winter,” you cut in after you recognize that famous name, causing your mother's eyes to widen with shock—“Yes, I have heard of them. We must help her, we must light the way for her.”

Your mother’s eyebrows furrow in confusion before she expresses it. “How do you know?”

You glance down for a brief second and scoff softly. “Friends. A red priestess, and Alys, a witch friend who resides at Harrenhal.”

Your mother huffs. “So you know her too? Daemon knows her too.”

You meet her gaze and flash her an amused smile. “She’s great, she helped me. And she let me see the Prince that was Promised. It’s why we need to win this war.”

Your mother nods. “Yes, we can only defeat the dead if the realm is united. It’s why our victory is dire. We need to do what we must to guarantee our blood continues so there’s hope in the future.”

You swallow nervously as you know what she’s referring to when she says, ‘we need to do what we must’. You know she’s referring to Aemond when says those words, and knowing it makes your chest heavy.

No matter what happened, regardless of why you left, you…still love him.

“I know,” you whisper and avert your gaze for a second before you meet hers again and offer her a faint assuring smile. “I know what we need to do.”

Your mother draws in a deep breath and holds your gaze with pity for a second before she nods and leans in to press a kiss on your head.

“Get ready for dinner later, okay? I want you to meet the dragon riders and I want to present you as my heir,” she lets you know in which you can’t help but nod in comprehension before you bring up one last thing.

“May I invite Helaena to dinner? I know she’s your prisoner but she's also your sister, and besides my aunt, she is very dear to me, so may I invite her to dinner?” You ask and bat your lashes, causing your mother to sigh even though she wasn’t going to choose anything else but to agree with you.

“Thank you.”

Now with the apologies and the unspoken words that were hidden in the depths of your souls, and shared out loud and over with, you then make your way to Helaena before you can return to your quarters.

“Helaena, sweetling it’s me, may I come in?” You speak against the door, and not so long later a voice echoes.

“Come.”

The guards open the doors for you, letting you be greeted with the sight of not only Helaena but Alicent in golden chains that are clasped around her ankles and wrists.

“Helaena,” you greet her as you rip your eyes from Alicent to look at your aunt with a warm smile whilst she quickly gets up from her cushioned seat in front of some insect cages and meets you halfway to grab your arms.

“I knew you would return,” she whispers, making you grab her elbows.

“It's good to see you again,” you say back before you step back, letting her study your belly.

“Look at you,” she points out and pats your belly. “So big.”

You grin and nod before your face falls as you bring up her situation. “Are you okay? Have they been treating you well?”

Helaena nods before stepping back and then returning to where she was. “Yes. I’m not allowed to see Dreamfyre, but I can roam the Red Keep, and stay in the gardens as much as I like. And Daemon has been kind as well.”

Daemon?

You look at her with confusion before you share your emotions with Alicent with a shared glance, and then address her only because you have to. “Alicent,” you bow your head and then look at the little girl reading by the fire. “Jaehaera.”

Said girl lifts her eyes off her book and flashes you a grin. “Hello! You returned!”

You nod and head over to her. “I have and you have gotten bigger it seems.”

She nods eagerly. “Yes! I grew an inch, mother says!”

You grin. “I see that. I hope Aerion has been well-behaved. You have watched out for him have you?”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I try, but he always wants to be with grandmother. But she does let me help her feed him. The only bad thing is that he always gets messy.” She pouts and stands up to put her little hand on your belly. “I suppose if you have girls they won’t be so messy.”

You giggle. “All babies are messy at one point. You were too.”

“Was I?!” She exclaims giddly. “I do not remember, but then if my cousins are girls will they play dolls with me when they’re older? Grandmother says Aerion will have to train with swords and sailing instead of playing with dolls.”

Considering she'll probably phase out of playing with dolls when the twins are old enough to play with her you don’t think so, but you don’t want to break her little heart so you let her hear what she wants. “If they’re girls I’m sure they will, but I’m sure you and Aerion can bond over dragons when he’s old enough, hm? Or books like me and your uncle Aemond.”

She shakes her head with a disgusted face. “That would be boring.” She retorts, making you snort and get reminded of her father as she makes that facial expression.

“Well, dragons it is then.”

“They’ll be the same age!” She points out and you nod in agreement.

Jaehaera then slides her hand off your belly and falls back in her cushion, letting you make your way back to Helaena, but addressing Alicent. “I hope you are well.”

She looks at her chains and then meets your gaze and mutters. “At least I can be with my family.”

You have so much that comes to the tip of your tongue but you manage to bite your tongue to avoid arguing.

“You and the twins?” Alicent asks.

You caress your belly and nod softly. “We’re fine. Healthy.”

Alicent’s gaze drifts to one of Helaena’s insect cages and hesitantly brings up a question. “And Aemond? If you’re here then that means something is wrong.”

You sigh and hesitate before you give her a curt answer. “He’s not hurt, he just seems to be descending into something that’s gotten out of control.”

Alicent nods stiffly as she blinks repeatedly and doesn’t answer, letting you then give your attention to Helaena. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come to dinner later. My mother wants to present me as her heir to her court at dinner so if you would like to come you’re more than welcome.”

Helaena drifts her gaze from the insect she’s inspecting and sighs deeply. “Thank you, but no. There will be people I don’t know and who will all look at me. I would not be comfortable, besides, I enjoy dinner with my mother, Jaehaera, and Aerion. You can tell me what happened on the following day,” she doesn’t try to put it nicely, she’s abrupt and unforgiving. Which doesn’t bother you, it’s just the way she is.

“Alright,” you breathe out and take a seat beside her to ask her what she’s collected, but Alicent then sits across from you and reaches over to take your arm.

“Will you not stop him?” She blurts with a widened look spewing fear and concern. “Help him? This descent into madness will only make Daemon or one of the others go after him, and we both know that Vhagar is not invincible. Not when it comes to Daemon.” She throws out desperately as she sinks her nails in your arm.

“He wants Daemon to go after him, don’t you think I have tried to warn him? To try and lead him to a different path?” You counter as you yank her hand off your arm. “I have tried,” you press with annoyance that was quick to form. “But he doesn’t listen. He wants this path because of you. The path Aegon, Daeron, and Aemond are walking down is because of you. Not me, you,” you hiss, making Alicent pull her head back as she seems to get offended and surprised at your blunt accusation.

“If you hadn’t been so hell-bent on undermining my mother my brothers would be alive and your son’s lives would not be put at risk,” you spat with your gaze narrowing as your annoyance turns to frustration that’s been building up. You don’t know why exactly, perhaps it’s just your own gloom, but you have been feeling it forming within you, wanting out but now knowing how.

“But you set them down this path, and now that it’s gotten out of control you fall to your knees and beg for mercy?” You grimace with the corner of your lip curled. “Face the reality, Alicent. Face your mistakes or—”

“So you wish to see Aemond dead?” She cuts you off abruptly and leans toward you. “Do you wish to accept that reality?”

You have given that reality much thought. It consumes you a lot of the time and you know that it’s a possibility. You would be ignorant if you didn’t, but when it comes to accepting it you do act ignorant.

“If your love for him is real, that is.”

“Of course it is!” You snap back with tears in your eyes. “I love him, how dare you throw that at my face? You out of all people?”

Alicent gasps and blinks repeatedly in disbelief as if she had been smacked across the face, ending up speechless, much like you. Albeit you’re not quiet out of shock, your anger makes you quiet and makes you pierce a glare into her before you stand up and turn to Helaena.

“I will come see you tomorrow, Helaena. Maybe we can go for a walk in the gardens, hm?” You ask and she slowly looks at you without meeting your gaze to give you her response with a nod, letting you then turn and storm out of her chambers with a tormenting ache that you thought you got rid of. At least for the rest of today, but no, Alicent helped it come back and this time it hits you with so much more force that if it wasn’t for the dinner you need to attend, it would have knocked you down, but alas even if you waver, you don’t stumble, you don’t fall, and you don’t break.

——

*LATER*

“…I intended to save this gown for after the war. When the Queen won and was crowned before the masses, but alas, you are heir and will be named heir. There’s no other time to wear this gown like now,” Vanessa rambles excitedly as she doesn’t even help you with the gown anymore, she had already helped you put it on, she is currently applying your makeup, but she can't stop talking about the gown. She’s perhaps more excited than you are that you’re wearing it. And you’re trying. You’re trying to be excited and shake off what plagues you, but you’re tormented by your own agony, your grief, your guilt, and your sorrow that you can’t forget.

But the question is why? Why do you have to feel so unhappy now that you have what you wanted? You’re no longer reaching for it, you have it in your grasp, and now that you do, now that you feel its beating heart in your grasp you can’t muster a genuine smile. You can’t feel the warmth of bliss and excitement.

You want to, you try, but no amount of strain can make you recover that initial joy you felt.

“Perfect. Beautiful,” Vanessa praises you and then pinches your cheeks before she steps back to continue admiring her work. “I just need the necklaces. I left them in the other chambers. I will be back!” She throws out and then turns to run off.

Once Vanessa is out of your chambers you slowly turn your seat and face yourself on the vanity mirror to admire the way the golden dragon scales hug your torso and stretch over your belly. You admire the multiple white pearl chains that are hooked around your hips and cascade over the lavish black silk skirt, while also connecting to more chains that strap around your black hanging sleeves that are attached to the back of the gown so it looks like your sleeves are wings when you put your arms out.

You then slowly scale your eyes up to your face and look at the light makeup that decorates your face. You admire Vanessa’s work, causing the corner of your lips to twitch to a smile, however, your eyes then catch the lipstick smudged on your bottom lip just a smidge and you carefully fix it with your fingers.

Albeit when you try to wipe the mistake more lipstick smudges, making you scoff in annoyance before you press the tip of your fingers harder against your skin and wipe harsher.

However, the smudge only worsens and the mistake doesn’t get fixed so you wipe harder and harder, feeling your throat slowly starting to burn and your eyes filling with tears until you can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold back anymore. You can’t stay strong anymore. You fall, you stumble, and you break, dragging your hands off your lips and smacking your face again and again in attempts to wipe the light layer of makeup off your face because it’s all a mistake; you being heir, holding that title after years of yearning is a mistake because there’s no point.

What’s the point? You ask yourself before you scale your hands up and tear the golden pearl circlet off your head and mindlessly smash it against the vanity mirror out of agony, out of grief, and out of guilt, thinking over and over again what is being heir worth?

What is it all worth? What is it all worth?!

What is it all worth without them? Without Jacaerys? Without Luke? What is it all worth with no one to love you? And you don’t mean in the way your family loves you, but in the intimate way that Aemond loves you? And or the way Cregan loves you?

Being heir and then being Queen, is all you wanted. You dreamt of it, wished for it, but now that you have it you can admit that it’s worth nothing. All those years of longing to be acknowledged no longer exist within you because most of you is already dead. All that’s left is what?

You look at the mirror between your fingers after hitting it and breaking it, and after pressing your bleeding hands against your face, and slowly drag your fingers down before you pull your hands off your face and look at yourself. What you see beyond the blood-stained face is someone grief-stricken, someone angry, in agony, and some hollow husk of who you used to be.

That’s who and what you are. That’s all that’s left.

You miss who you used to be, just like you miss your life before the war tore it apart. You miss your brothers and the way Aemond was before his mind spiraled. You miss Cregan, and most of all you miss…being happy. You want life to go back to the way it was.

Alas…you have to move onward…it’s a harsh truth to face but there’s no other alternative you can take.

Thus you reach over to grab a damp towel off the bowl and wipe the blood off your face, realizing that you’re only damaging the towel even more with the bleeding cuts that the shards of glass made on your palms—Damn.

Before you can get something to tend to your wounds, however, Vanessa walks in and when she sees the state of things she comes to a quick stop and looks horrified. You mirror her look out of guilt for ruining her work and speak on it because you need to. “I’m sorry,” you mutter and look at her with a look of hurt. “I’m sorry.”

Vanessa swallows back thickly and then snaps out of her stupor to approach you hastily. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she assures you and cups your hands. “Let’s tend to your hands and do it again. We have time. It’s okay.”

You look at her in disbelief and she notices so she lifts her hand to stroke your cheek, reassuring you that she’s not really upset that you ruined her makeup but just playing it off for your sake. She’s genuine, and she’s more careful compared to before because before her eyes seemed to have been shielded since she failed to see your sadness so clearly clinging onto your face and painting such a vivid picture in your eyes.

“You look beautiful,” she speaks softly this time around once she finishes your makeup for a second time. “Eat okay? Mingle, I have found that Addam Velaryon is quite the charmer. Enjoy yourself. It’s what Jacaerys would’ve wanted.”

Your breath hitches but you don’t break, you simply nod faintly before you linger on your cushioned seat and then get up and leave, attempting as you go to get rid of the hold your sorrow has on your features and replace it with serenity and bliss so you can look grateful because you are, but usually there’s a glint of grace and arrogance in your eyes that you don’t feel ashamed for feeling, or feel ashamed to admit that you carry such feelings.

Alas, when you’re in the throne room, as your name and title are announced to the guests that turned out to be more than you thought, to your family that has turned into a small group, and to the musicians you didn’t think would play tonight, all you can muster is feigned nonchalance backed with a sadness that makes your eyes gleam against all the twinkling firelight that keeps the darkness away from the great hall.

They see you as you make your way to the main table, and you see them not even trying to feign their shock, their utter disapproval of you being able to waltz in without consequence after you sided with Aemond.

They have every right to disapprove of you, but they are not the Queen, they don’t make decisions, and they’re simply inferior. They're plebes compared to you and your family. They can shoot you as many dirty and disapproving looks as they want. They can whisper behind your back, but they have to bite their tongue and watch you sit beside the Queen as if you have been here supporting her the entire time.

“Your Grace,” you greet your mother one more time now that you’re seated. “You look very beautiful tonight.”

Your mother smiles softly and pats your hand. “As do you,” she doesn’t fail to redirect before she moves her hand down to stroke your belly before she reaches for her goblet and gets up, silencing the whispers that had already filtered the hall in such a short time.

“I would like to firstly, thank everyone for joining us tonight, it means a lot to me,” your mother addresses the guests, turning their heads and grabbing their attention. “And now I would like to present my daughter, my firstborn, and your Princess, as my heir,” she announces and looks down at you, catching your glimmering eyes expressing your appreciation and your affection. “There’s no one more graceful, more tactical, more smart, and strong as you. I’m proud of you, my girl. You will be great.”

Your eyes water, a genuine smile appears on your face, and there in your chest, you feel something jolt. “Thank you,” you whisper in such a soft way that only she and your grandfather next to you hear. She then raises her goblet and other people raise their cups, but your attention falls on a plump man overly decorated in shiny gold chains and rings and dressed in over-the-top expensive clothes.

You remember him from Dragonstone, he wanted you thrown in a dungeon. He’s the rider of Silverwing. It’s Ulf wearing all the money he’s received since he became a dragonrider. If only all that money could buy him class, he eats like a commoner.

Nevertheless, he catches your gaze, and when you know he’s looking as if springing back to life you slowly raise your nose in the air and look at him with a piercing glare under your lashes, like a predator looks at their prey before capturing them.

He swallows thickly and as if possessed by your husband's spirit, you shoot him a menacing glare and a wicked smile seconds before Daemon raises his up and grabs your attention.

“To the heir, I look forward to sharing the battlefield with you so I can see for myself what the Blood Dragon is really capable of,” he says with a growing grin, making you glance at your mother before you look back at him and offer him a smile that he mirrors, which is…weird, you’ll admit, but he’s making an attempt to make amends, so you don’t look away or let your disgust make an appearance, you take his smile. Once he’s back in his seat your grandfather doesn’t hesitate to rise from his seat and raise his goblet in the air, catching you by surprise.

“To the heir, and my Siren of Driftmark,” he says to the crowd before his eyes fall on you and a small smile tugs the corner of his lips. “I still tend to make Aerion my ward, but it seems now that he will be your heir, one of your twins will have to be my heir…”

He still plans to keep your children as heirs to Driftmark? But what of Addam and Alyn? Vanessa called Addam a Velaryon, so you were right, he is the bastard son of your grandfather and is now legitimized, so your grandfather could make any of the two the heir. Yet he kept his word, after all this time, after all you’ve done.

Perhaps you were quick to feel betrayed, and quicker to judge.

“To your health, and the health of my great-grandchildren,” your grandfather finishes, making you grin softly, and when he sits back down you pat his arm before you caress it, receiving a small smile from him in return.

This time rather than hearing mocking toasts filled with spite, breaking into a fight just before you can take your first bite of food like the last big dinner you were a part of, the music starts back up again, and the transition from toast to dinner is smooth. You’re thankful for it but also crave some mayhem in between your state of sorrow and the constant torment that you give Ulf every time you glance at him.

There does come a moment where your gaze finds a different pair of eyes that are darker than Ulf’s, kinder too, but you don’t attempt to make him squirm, nor do you threaten him with a piercing look alone. You actually avert your gaze out of shame for being so harsh on a man who was miles away when you spited him for being someone he had no control over. You let Aemond and your own insecurities get to your head. You admit that.

How shameful and stupid.

“You know, my sweet,” your mother interjects as she puts her goblet of wine down and you set your fork down. “I am Queen, which means I hold the power to…” she trails off and swallows back nervously before she continues hesitantly. “Annul your marriage to Aemond.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and look down at your plate of food to manage the shock that hits you as if you heard the most absurd thing in your life.

“We could marry you to someone kinder,” your mother continues to say through your obvious shock as if she wants to move forward with something that’s just meant as a suggestion. Is it not? “Someone worthy of you. Someone like…Lord Cregan Stark.”

You blink and look at her with your eyebrows softly pinched together, noticing a small playful smirk tugging on the corner of her lips as if this is some joke. And you understand where her joy comes from after all, you basically confessed your love for Cregan that time she snuck into King’s Landing, but doesn’t she know how hard it really is loving two people?

Does she know how hard it is to even fathom the thought of letting go of one to go to the other?

You’re torn between your love for Aemond and Cregan, doesn’t she know that? Doesn’t she know your conflict?

“Or she could marry a Martell prince,” Daemon suggests as he leans forward to be a part of the conversation. “They’d be idiots to turn down the proposal of an heir. And a marriage to Dorne would at last unite the kingdom, and give us all our strength for,” he pauses and passes you and your mother a glance. “…the future.”

You drop your gaze to your food and grab your fork with a tight grip. You don’t pick up any food, you just scrape it along the plate with your jaw clenched and your gaze pierced because even if they’re suggestions, it’s still your own life that they are so easily talking about. No matter how smart it would be to at last unite Dorne to the kingdoms, and or how much you once wanted to marry Cregan, is leaving Aemond really worth it?

You think of him, picture his face in your mind as clear as day and all you can imagine is how betrayed he’d be. You’d break his heart and him, is it really worth all of that? There’s still a fighting chance…minuscule maybe, but you have to believe there is no matter what the future has in store for you.

It’s a hopeless desire, but you are hopelessly in love with Aemond no matter what.

“I…” you interject with the attempt to reject your mother or just answer with something that would get her to abandon the conversation, but when she looks at you she does see your struggle and interrupts you.

“Think about it. I just wanted you to know that you’re not stuck, you have options, okay?”

You drift your gaze and let your jaw unclench and your eyes soften. “Okay.”

She offers you a reassuring look before she goes back to talking to Daemon, letting you stare back at your food and remind yourself to take deep breaths.

Being surrounded by so many people and such lively music is perhaps overwhelming after being cornered in Harrenhal for four months. Seeing your brother's seats be occupied by two men from the pits of the city is also perhaps too much for your mind to grasp. You look up from your plate on occasion and catch yourself expecting to see Lucerys and Jacaerys both laughing and talking with each other, or their respected partner, so when you see strangers on their seats it’s like…getting your breath ripped from your chest over and over again.

Perhaps this is why it was easier to stay with Aemond as long as you did, you remembered that they were gone when you were away from home but now that you’re home their ghosts haunt you at every corner.

But oh, you try to look content. You mingle with whoever wants to talk to you, your mother introduces you to Ser Hugh and officially introduces you to Ser Ulf, and you do note that Ser Hugh is much more etiquette than Ser Ulf, but they are both still low-born, they are not to be trusted. You can’t get yourself to trust them. As to Addam? Well, it’s complicated, but should you really trust him completely?

You can’t be sure yet.

“Is this not all you wanted?” Daemon startles you as he joins you in some lonely side of the hall.

“Once,” you sigh. “Once upon a time I wanted to be Queen, I wanted to be my mother's heir. Once upon a time, when life was…much more simple,” you find yourself sharing with him without straining or trying to find a way out.

“Good,” he surprises you by saying. “Not wanting to be a ruler doesn’t guarantee you will be good at it, but the crown is a heavy burden and when you don’t want it it’s easier to treat it that way.”

You scoff and the corner of your lips twitch to a teasing smile that he catches.

“What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mutter and look away to hide your smile.

Daemon huffs before he steps forward to stand in front of you now rather than at your side where you can’t meet eye to eye. “Your mother says we have a friend in common at Harrenhal.”

You flash him a smile but don’t respond with what he seeks. “Helaena mentioned…in a way that you talk. Why?”

A faint smirk twitches on the corner of his lips before he responds bluntly. “Much like our friend, she can see glimpses of the future. She appeared to me in a vision once, and now we're both here. I would be foolish to take her gift for granted.”

You nod softly and without a shift on your face you lean forward and at this particular moment disregard any attempt at reconciliation. “If I hear that you have hurt her in any way you will see for yourself why it is that they call me what they call me.”

Daemon doesn’t falter, nor does he get upset, he looks at you with a smirk that now spreads wider on his lips. “Noted.”

You huff and move away to stand beside him instead.

“Did she show you the future on that Weirwood tree?” Daemon asks, not letting you go just yet. “The witch?”

“Alys,” you clarify and turn to face the crowd. Daemon turns with you and you both catch your mother glancing over here and smiling when she sees you both interacting without looking upset—“yes. If only the glimpses of the future were clear.”

He hums in agreement as you both watch your mother from where you stand. “What did you see?” He probes.

“Myself, fighting for my mother. A son…born to me sometime in the future…he talked to me,” you muse with a growing smile of admiration. “Just like I'm talking to you now. I don’t know why…maybe he’s a dreamer or something else. Alys wouldn’t tell me, she said knowing too much is dangerous so that's what I am left with. That, along with the Prince that was Promised, and the dead that come with a long winter.”

“I saw her too,” Daemon interjects, making you shift your eyes to him. “She survived fire like you, but she didn’t look like you. Maybe—”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s not me. What I have is unknown, Alys doesn’t even know. Blood magic perhaps, I don’t know.”

“But it’s something that will pass through our line,” Darmon says and meets your gaze with a serious gaze. “If you are not who was promised then it comes from our line. Yours, mine. We don’t know.”

You shake your head in agreement and then draw out a deep breath as you look ahead again. “We don’t know but we know she’s coming. My son said I would be the spark that would light a greater fire. Alys said it too, but…how can I? I’m with child and I can barely muster the energy to climb out of bed now that I’m here.”

Daemon stays quiet for a moment and in his silence you think perhaps you overshared. You didn’t mean to in the first place, but now that you know what you said perhaps you did and he doesn’t care.

“You’re already there,” he then fills the silence, stopping the worry of pouring your heart out on someone who couldn’t care, and stopping you before you can find an excuse to leave. “You just need to keep burning brighter, and the only way you can do that is thinking of who you’re fighting for.”

You look for them again. Jacaerys and Lucerys. You look at your mother, Baela, Rhaena, and your grandfather. You think of Aerion, your unborn children, Joffrey, and Aegon. And even Cregan comes to mind as you think about who it is you fight for.

“They will keep that fire alive. You must fight for their future. That’s why you need to keep getting out of bed. You can worry about the rest after we win,” he finishes, bringing tears to the corner of your eyes.

You don’t follow up with anything, but he knows you understand. He sees the tears crawling down your cheeks and he knows.

“You must know,” he speaks softly. “I am grateful that you saved Aegon and you tried to look for Viserys.”

More tears keep coming out as you hear what he mentions.

“You tried. You fought, and they sing about you like a great legendary dragon warrior…your father would be proud…just like I know your mother is.”

You inhale sharply and keep quiet, but he knows his words worked the way he wanted them to. He can walk away content after that even if he leaves you weeping.

Thus you walk away before someone can see you and think the wrong thing or worse, come and pester you with unnecessary questions.

When you find yourself outside of the hall you stand in front of the tall windows and try to calm yourself down before you return inside.

You can’t let yourself think of much or you’ll go down a spiral so you try and keep your mind off anything that will upset you at the moment, and hope not to take too long, but alas moments later someone carefully joins you in front of the window. At first, you think it’s your mother, but when you peek at your side you’re surprised to see Addam.

“Are you alright, your Grace, I saw you crying,” he says and proves you were not quick enough when you walked out.

“Uh, yes.” You nod and drop your hands from your face. “Yes I am Addam, thank you.”

Addam’s gaze lingers on you, you can feel it burning on your side before he slowly looks ahead, letting you steal a glance, and sigh out of guilt. “So…you are my grandfather's son?” You ask to get the rumors confirmed.

“Well,” he pauses and debates answering. “Yes. Bastard son.”

You shake your head and correct him. “You’re a Velaryon. You’re no longer a bastard under the law.”

“Perhaps,” he answers right away. “But I am. No law or name will change it.”

You hum and clasp your hands together, debating whether to apologize for a behavior he probably didn’t even notice, or leaving it be.

You feel like apologizing. He was so sweet the first time you met.

“I didn’t mean to steal your father's dragon,” he blurts and turns your gaze to him. “He came to me. I don’t want you to think that I did it on purpose.”

There it is again, that jolt in your chest.

“Addam,” you whisper. “My father is dead. My father died before you bonded with Seasmoke, he wouldn’t have bonded with you otherwise, so Seasmoke belonged to no one. We can’t own a dragon, we form a connection and they are loyal to us, we are one until either of us dies, but they’re not cattle or pets. He wasn’t ours to claim, so don’t apologize or even feel guilty. Feel special, he went out of his way to find you, I never heard of a dragon doing that.”

Addam scoffs as he drops his head, and a smile sneaks on his features.

“You should forgive me,” you chose to say. “I was upset at you and Alyn because I thought you would replace my son's inheritance. I was jealous and I spited you because of it.”

Addam’s gaze finds you and you find his. After a few seconds, he breaks out into a chuckle. “I didn’t even know,“ he admits. “So I suppose there’s nothing to forgive, besides you’re a princess you have every right to be—”

“No,” you cut him off before he can finish that statement. “Untrue. Being a princess doesn't mean that I’m above criticism. I mean sometimes I do feel entitled and have every right to be, but not when it comes to being cruel…to you. Good people.”

“You don’t know me,” he quickly rebuttals. “I could be cruel. The cruelest of cruel.”

You snort and chuckle. For the first time in so long you laugh from the depths of your stomach.

“I don’t believe that,” you say between laughs.

“How come?” He questions, making you take a deep breath to calm down and then answer genuinely.

“It’s in your eyes.”

As you say that his eyes soften and that grin falls to an awe-struck smile.

“And eyes never lie if you know how to read them,” you add. “I know. I see you now and through them, I see your good heart,” you say and gently tap his chest with your fist. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” he whispers timidly.

You offer him a kind-hearted smile and then pull your hand away to drop your arm back at your side. When you’re both looking out the window and see how the night covers every aspect of the outside world, you stand in a…comfortable silence. It didn't last but no matter how short it was you still felt at ease.

“Can I ask why you left?” Addam asks. “Your mother was Queen, you had every chance to return to her side.”

You draw out a deep breath and mutter. “I was being selfish,” you avoid the truth to avoid problems. “I got upset at my mother and I was a selfish and bratty daughter, that's why I left…I'm a bad person.”

“If that made a person bad then the world would be full of bad people,” he gives his opinion as he doesn’t fear looking at you as he speaks up. “Regardless of the situation, it’s normal to get upset at parents. You’re young, and they make mistakes. Being upset doesn’t make you bad. Besides, you made up now right?”

You nod.

“See? That’s what matters.”

Your breath shutters but you don’t cry this time, you keep looking out at the window with a sense of bliss. Yes, that’s what it is, bliss.

“Can I ask you something now,” you don’t shy away from bringing up, maybe you should, but it feels right because he reminds you of your beloved brothers. “Why are you not dancing? There’s many fair ladies there. And there’s also beautiful Lady Rhaena. We won’t get many moments like these so it’s best to take advantage of them. Who knows maybe you’ll end up being wed by the time the week ends.”

He scoffs and then laughs before he tilts his head towards you. “Well, I don’t know how. I didn’t take dancing lessons like you.”

You scoff. “Okay, yes I took dancing lessons. I had to, and I liked them,” you share with a smile. “My uncle Aegon would annoy me, but luckily…my Aemond would always save me and always be my dance partner. So I can tell you that the most important thing is to not step on your dance partner.”

“That would be terrible,” he says and you hum before you skip over to stand before him and offer him your hand because you have that need to…enjoy yourself like you used to because of him. Because he’s such a sweet reminder of everything nice. “I’ll show you. Just follow my lead.”

Addam hesitates but he doesn’t overthink your offer, he places his hand over yours, letting you secure your warm hold over his before pulling yourself closer to him to firstly, grab his other hand and place it on your waist and then place your other hand on his shoulder.

“Now there’s many other dances, but this is the most common and basic one. This one will work fine for now,” you say before you step toward him first, noticing how he keeps his eyes focused on your feet.

“Alright,” he whispers under his breath.

“The second most important thing is to follow the beat of the music,” you follow by saying and listen to what’s playing in the hall, hearing a song with a fast beat so you grow mischievous and can’t help yourself. You move quickly to follow the rhythm and surprisingly enough Addam is quick to catch up and not stumble or step on you.

“Great!” You praise him.

“You tried to mess me up,” he points out with a half grin.

You shake your head and deny such claims. “No, I’m merely following the beat of the music.”

He hums as he nods before a teasing smirk tugs on his own lips and he doesn’t fail to match your enthusiasm by spinning you around, making you laugh. When you face each other as you only grab onto one hand now, it’s like you speechlessly come to an agreement before you dance wildly as if in tune with each other's dancing hearts. And since the corridor is alone you make the corridor your dance floor and dance up and down it.

You let yourself get carried away. You smile and laugh without guilt, without sorrow, and without agony clinging onto you. You let go for the night because of Addam.

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

There’s…no sight of Astraea resting near the castle—she must be hunting.

Aemond descends from his dragon in some isolated space where his dragon can fit and strides toward the castle without worry at first. Yet as he gets closer and closer and doesn’t hear commotion echoing from within the walls he picks up his pace, finding his heart skipping a beat before that too picks up its pace.

But why should he worry? You’ll be here, he just didn’t leave enough men for the commotion to travel out, and Astraea is hunting…

With that repeating in his mind to reassure the growing pit in his stomach, he takes a deep breath and keeps his quickened pace. When he makes it within the castle walls he only has one objective in mind, seeing you, so he doesn’t go out of his way to search for any guards, he doesn’t check for the witch or Ser Jason, he makes a beeline where you’re supposed to be and already imagines how you would react when you see him.

You won't be happy, after all, he left you locked in your quarters. He did one of the worst things possible but all he needs is just to see you. He’s been on his own for far too long, all he needs is to look you in your captivating eyes, he just needs to feel your warmth, and hear your breath so he knows you’re alive. That’s all he wants, you don’t have to talk to him, he just needs to see you. That’s all his heart has ever yearned for.

Yet when he turns the corner to reach your quarters, he comes to an immediate halt when he sees the decaying bodies of your guards. The blood seems to be a stain on the ground now so the men weren’t just killed…they’re old…

He calls out your name and waits for a response. When he doesn’t hear your voice call out to him he races to the room and throws the doors open, finding two more bodies inside. One seems to have been wounded on his neck and the other was impaled. Was it you?

No, no, no…

He wants it to be you who killed these strange men that are not a part of the guards that he left behind, but his fears take control and his mind begins to make him think that someone else hurt you, so he quickly spins around on his heels and runs out. He calls out your name at every turn hoping you’ll be in another room, that someone else will hear and come out, but deafening silence is all that responds to his desperate calls and his thumping heart is all that fills his ears. It almost plays tricks on him. He swears he hears your voice travel through the corridors, but when he follows what he believes is your voice he finds nothing.

There’s no one. Nothing, but emptiness and a reminder of what was of this castle. That is until he runs into the Godswood and finds what he was looking for in the burnt bodies discarded on the ground, and the swinging bodies hanging from the white branches.

He doesn’t want to believe you left this lovely mess. He hopes something else did it so he can save you and find you, but what else could leave bodies black and nothing but bones? Who else would hang burnt bodies on the Weirwood tree, but you?

You followed the ways of the Old Gods after your stay in the North. You pray to the weeping tree and enjoy basking in your peace in the Godswood, so no one else would leave these bodies hanging from the tree but you.

You killed those strangers in your chambers, you had Astraea burn these bodies in the Godswood, you fought the trouble he meant to protect you from, and you lived.

There’s no other way around it. His mind places some doubt, but he knows you’re capable so he believes wholeheartedly that you lived through the ordeal. However, a part of him wishes you would have been in trouble so he could have came and saved you because at least if he came and saved you, that would guarantee you staying by his side. It would mean that you didn’t leave, but you did…you left.

YOU LEFT!

He tears his sword out of his sheath and swings at the weeping face again and again with more anger backing each swing every time, and with tears slowly clouding his eyes every time his blade would hit the Weirwood tree.

Once he’s panting and his tears stream down his face he lets his sword fall to the ground and he stands there mindlessly looking at the wounded tree with tears in his eyes and his eyebrows knitted together in anger whilst heavy pants leave past his lips.

A part of him expected you to find a way to leave. You’re restless, you don’t belong locked away in some tower, but he just wanted to protect you. He saw you die every night in his dreams while he was here, and he hurt you when he was lost in some trance, so all he wanted was to guarantee your safety. He didn’t want you to leave and leave him alone in this world. He…just wanted what was best. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he didn’t intend for you to leave him alone like his mother, his sister, and his brothers have.

“Damn it,” he hisses and falls to his knees in front of the Weirwood tree, feeling abandoned and betrayed, but still feeling a longing to see you. Even if you left him he still aches to feel your arms embracing him against you, he wants to hear your whispers against his ear and desires most of all to see you so you can meet his gaze as if nothing else existed in the world but him and you.

He searches for the memory of your enticing gaze in the Heart Tree, unbeknownst to the fact that you are looking at the Weirwood tree in the Red Keep’s Godswood, and also yearning to see him. You also search for the memory of his gaze in the Heart tree, as if the weeping face held the memory of each other's gaze.

“Exhausted from terrorizing my homelands already, Prince?” A voice breaks the silence, ripping him away from his thoughts and making him stand up rapidly and turn swiftly to find none other than the witch Alys.

“You!” He bellows and stomps over to her to grab her by the neck in order to be threatening, but she doesn’t flinch. She meets his gaze and snickers before she answers a question he doesn’t have time to ask.

“She left home. She’s where she belongs.”

Aemond swallows back thickly and looks at her with slight disbelief before he reaffirms his grip around her throat and sneers. “Bring her back. Tell her to come back.”

Alys wraps her hand around his wrist and yanks his hand off her throat before she deadpans. “No.”

Aemond scoffs but she interjects before he can snap back.

“She will be back. You will see her again.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips twitch to a smirk but she smirks back and that makes his fall as he grows uncomfortable.

“You will both return to this very place soon. She has to so she can continue down her destined path.”

Aemond is curious to ask more and ask what she truly means because she wouldn’t look so taunting if there wasn’t some deeper meaning, but alas he doesn’t ask because he doesn’t like her or trust her like you do.

“Girls,” Alys blurts and makes him blink out of shock. “You will have twin girls. I thought you should know.”

His lips part as a soft gasp escapes past his lips.

Does this revelation mean that Helaena was wrong? Will he live after all?

A/N- When you so badly want your sister to be wrong you become delusional 🤩

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 months ago

Text

Fly by Moonlight

CW: Vaguely fantasy, hunting, possessive whumper referenced, bullet wound, guns, blood, makeshift surgery, implied dehumanization, scarring

Chapter One

The sky above them was an explosion of stars. With her head tilted back until it tipped against the sleeping bag, providing her the barest protection from simple dirt, she could see the Milky Way itself, winding its ghostly way from one horizon to the other. It was funny, to think that she was a part of that winding, sinuous length of endless light.

The people who think they came from stars, she thought, must have been people who thought highly of themselves. There was nothing more incredible than this, and it seemed impossible to understand how something as amazing as stardust could coalesce into the reality of wind rushing through leaves around their campsite, the simple beauty of her own heartbeat and blood.

Alongside the universes she could imagine above her, the moon hung heavy and full. Supermoon time, it was so much larger than usual, blocking some of the stars when Anaya tried to find them.

The moon, she thought, felt like what it was - a piece of earth thrown into space by asteroid impact. Like a mother who loses the grip of her child’s hand, and all of history had been the story of their slow reconciliation. Or maybe of the child running, always staying just ahead of her mother’s reach.

Anaya Cross laced her fingers together behind her head, her heavy, dark hair providing as much softness as any pillow. Beside her, in another sleeping bag, her boyfriend Eden had long since fallen asleep. His heavy, soft breathing and the sight of his ash-blond hair falling over his forehead was another kind of peace. Eden only slept well in the wilderness, and Anaya never slept well at all.

Even if she didn’t sleep much, here, she could rest by watching the stars. Her eyes traced a constellation, catching on the edge of the corona borealis and following its C-shaped swing from one end to the other.

Then, she heard a sound.

It was a faded sort of boom, as if someone in the park had set off a huge firework, one of those big mortar kinds Anaya had been terrified of as a child and still avoided today. She frowned, shifting uneasily and pushing herself up a little onto her elbows.

At first all she heard was the wind, the soft whispering of the leaves.

Then it happened again.

Boom.

Anaya took in a quick breath and sat up fully, head tipped to one side. This time, the sound was followed by a high-pitched squeal, almost a scream, but totally inhuman. Anaya’s breath caught, and she scrambled to push herself out of the sleeping bag, leaning on her knees over to shake Eden’s shoulder. “Eden-... Eden! Wake up!”

Eden groaned, slapping ineffectually at her hand, before his eyes finally blinked slowly open. They looked fogged over, still half-asleep, but he moved to sit as Anaya popped up to standing. “Wh-... what’sit?” It was all one run-on sound, hardly language. “Naya? What’ss… what time’sit?”

“I don’t know,” She answered, shifting forward slowly. Between the stars and the moon, the night around them was nearly as bright as daylight, only with a cool, almost blue tint to everything around them. “I heard something. Like a-... like a gunshot. I think. From a really fucking big gun.”

“You heard-...” Eden’s brain was still struggling to come online. He raked a hand back through his hair, leaving it standing up in wild chunks all over his head, before he started wiggling his way out of his sleeping bag, too. He stood, scratching at his stomach underneath his ratty old t-shirt, gray sweatpants hanging low on narrow hips. “A gunshot? Here? But-”

“Protected reserve, I know. But I definitely heard it. Do you think…” She trailed off. All she heard now was the wind, rushing through the trees. Only-... was it only the wind? Or was there a discordant note, crashing of something desperate running for its life?

Boom.

This time she could see Eden heard it too, his eyes widening. The sound was closer, louder, more immediate. Anaya and Eden’s gazes met, and then without a word spoken the two of them half-ran, half-walked as one to the edge of the clearing and away from the obviousness of their campsite. Eden’s car was parked at the camp lot a three-hour hike away, and they were deep within a part of the reserve no one was supposed to go to. It had seemed romantic, when they came here and chose this space, carefully marking their trail to ensure they could make it back. It had seemed like a way to get away from it all and really find peace, let Eden get some real sleep.

Now, though, it seemed to hit Anaya all at once that coming out here - alone, with only her boyfriend, with no one really aware of where they’d gone other than ‘camping’ - had been monumentally, impossibly stupid.

Anaya crouched down behind a tree, keeping the campsite in view. Woods like these could get you lost within a few feet of where you’d been, the trees so close together that they hid you from your own trail unless it was well-marked. Eden moved to be just slightly in front of her, shielding her a little.

Not that it would matter against a gun that could make a sound like that.

“Poacher?” She whispered.

“Probably,” He whispered back. Now the crashing seemed close, and Eden’s body was warm against hers even as both of them were shivering. “But what is there even to hunt here? You can find deer anywhere in this stupid state, you don’t need-”

The answer to his question came flying out of the woods in front of them.

A huge wolf that somehow still looked half-grown and spindly, with too-long legs and giant paws, flashed through their campsite in a reddish-gray gleam lit by moonlight. Until it tripped over Anaya’s cooler full of beer and went tumbling, high-pitched whimpers and whines filling the air. Anaya jerked forward when she realized the cooler now had a red smear along the white lid, but Eden grabbed her arm to pull her back out of sight.

“It’s bleeding!” Anaya hissed. “That poacher shot it! We should go help!”

Eden’s grip only tightened. “It’s not a dog,” He hissed back. “It’ll just attack you. Not to mention the poacher will shoot you, too. Just stay here, Naya!”

The wolf stood on shaking legs, a low soft whine in its throat. The light of the moon seemed to turn the tips of its red fur to silver, reflected in its strangely human-looking eyes. Anaya blinked at the sight of scarring around its snout, like something had been wrapped there at some point until it dug in. It limped to the edge of the clearing, tumbling hard to one side before righting itself. Blood streamed from one back leg, clumping the fur and leaving a dark stain.

The wolf’s tongue hung from its mouth and it panted heavily even as it tried to lick at the blood and the wound beneath it, ears pricked and moving constantly. Its tail was tucked between its legs. Its nose went to the ground, picking up the scents of Anaya and Eden probably, and Anaya shivered when it growled.

The low rumble was more frightening than the sound of the gun.

At least the gunshots hadn’t been about her.

After a long pause, the wolf’s growl ended. It did what Anaya could only call taking a deep breath to steady itself, and then limped heavily away, out of the clearing in the general direction of the main hiking trails where Anaya and Eden had started their hike out here. Its nose stayed low, and Anaya heard Eden let out a breath in a rush once it was out of sight.

“Uh… what do we do now-”

Anaya clapped her hand over Eden’s mouth, shushing him and yanking him further back around the tree trunk.

The man with the gun - and holy shit, Anaya didn’t even know they made guns that big - stepped into the clearing, taking in the sight of the destroyed campsite smeared with wolf blood with a baffled, incredulous expression. He wasn’t too much older than them, maybe in his thirties, but he had a hardness to his jaw that said whatever his age, the years had definitely sucked the life out of him.

“Well… shit.” The man huffed, moving forward and using the muzzle of his gun to nudge the blood-stained cooler, lifting up the sleeping bag Eden had been in only a few moments ago. He ran a hand back over his crew cut, looking around. “Hey! Is anyone here? Anyone hurt?” The sound of concern in his voice seemed real.

But Anaya and Eden were alone, in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. And this guy had an enormous fucking gun. They stayed silent, in the dark.

“God damn it.” The poacher sighed, looking down at the sleeping bags. “Shit shit shit. If he killed somebody… that little shit. Fucking campers on our land. Bet he chased them off. I’ll have to call Bill and report it. He’s gonna kill me when he sees Rusty got out, let alone that he made a mess out of campers… if they find bodies on our land again, we are going to have the government up our fucking ass…”

He pulled out a compass and looked at it, then looked ahead, eyes scanning the ground. He must have seen some of the wolf’s blood on a leaf in some underbrush, because he moved forward confidently then. He went through the clearing, from one side to the other, and then was gone.

Anaya and Eden waited until the sound of the man moving through the forest had faded into the distance, and then looked at each other.

“... Did we go too far and end up on private land?” Anaya asked.

At the same time, Eden said, “Did he say ‘if they find bodies on our land again?’”

Both of them stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then, as if they’d come to some agreement that didn’t need words, they moved out to the wreckage of the campsite. Anaya rolled up the sleeping bags while Eden checked on the small cooler, wiped the rest of the blood off of it with a shudder, and then shifted it back into the heavy pack he’d carried out here. Anaya felt the tension rising between them, until it was tight enough it might snap. Her heart pounded so hard it found its way up her throat, making her occasionally stop to catch her breath. The two of them pulled their socks on and then laced up their hiking boots after. Neither even bothered to dress in daytime clothing. Their sweatpants and t-shirts seemed like enough, for now.

The hike back was silent and slow.

They put one foot carefully in front of the other, following the markings Anaya had left wrapped around trees in non-obvious places. She undid each and every colorful ribbon, packing them back away. Taking back everything they’d brought with them. No sign they’d ever been here at all, ideally.

She found herself wondering where the park ended and private land began. There’d been no signs, no warnings. Not any that they saw, anyway. Then again, it’s not like you could mark every square inch of a wild forest like this one.

Above them, the moon hung heavy. When its light cut through the canopy overhead, it made everything otherworldly and beautiful.

If only Anaya could appreciate it, and not take every quiet step sure she’d see the end of a gun between her eyes the moment she looked up.

At some point, they got close enough to the trail for cell phone signal to come back, and her phone buzzed with a handful of missed messages. Nothing that suggested anything big had happened while they were out of reach. She didn’t dare check it - not yet. Not until she felt sure that the light from her screen wouldn’t draw in either an injured, probably hostile wolf and a healthy, definitely hostile guy with a gun.

She kept cycling her thoughts back to the sight of the thing. Something had been off about it, but she didn’t know enough about guns to even begin to know what. Hell, she didn’t know enough about guns to even know if anything was actually off, or if she was just thinking of movie-guns and not understanding that the real thing was different.

Exhaustion dragged at the edges of her mind, even as adrenaline kept her so wired that she knew she couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep even if they simply laid down right here. Hours passed, Eden and Anaya saying little to each other. They heard the boom just once more, far enough away that they felt themselves finally able to relax.

Wherever the guy had tracked the injured wolf, it wasn’t in the direction they were going.

Finally, they stumbled back out onto the trail.

Anaya checked her phone, as surreptitiously as she could.

It was almost three in the morning, and they had another good two hours of hiking on the trail before they got to the parking lot.

“I say we sleep in the car,” Eden said, voice heavy and husky. When Anaya glanced over at him, his half-lidded eyes reminded her of a sleepy kitten, and she found herself smiling, briefly overwhelmed with love for him. He frowned back at her. “What?”

“You’re cute,” She said. He shook his head and started walking again, but she caught the edge of his smile before he turned to hide it from her.

“Pretty sure the T was supposed to make me handsome, not cute,” He said over his shoulder as he started walking again.

Anaya had to stifle a laugh - talking might be okay, might be safe, but laughter carried further. Especially Anaya’s laughter, which had a tendency to be too loud, according to her mother. Too loud, attention-taking. Just like all her emotions. “Well, you’re definitely handsome,” Anaya said brightly, falling in behind him. “You’re just also cute. You were handsome before the T, too, by the way.”

He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders straightened a little, and she caught the edge of a flush to his cheeks.

Her feet ached by the time they had Eden’s car in view, the ancient Subaru with its huge trunk thanks to the removed backseat a white gleam in the pinkish light of early dawn. The moon was still visible, just now beginning to fade as sunlight overtook it, wiped it out. Each throb was in time with her pulse, and Anaya’s brain seemed to have become mush at some point.

They could sleep in the back of Eden’s car, if they made it to a safe parking lot or something in town. Maybe the diner where they had parked before they came up here, those people had seemed pretty cool about it.

Eden came to a sudden stop, and Anaya walked into him so hard the two of them both stumbled, Eden with a huffed breath, an oof that any other day would have been funny. But now Anaya just groaned. It better not be the poacher having found them. She was too damn tired to deal with that, or even be scared of it anymore.

At least if he shoots me I can get some damn rest, she thought.

Out loud, she only mumbled, “What?”

Eden swallowed. Anaya could hear it. Something about that woke her back up all at once, sent brand new adrenaline flooding through her. Her head began to pound in time with her feet and her heart. Would anything not hurt by the end of today?

“There’s something under our car,” Eden said, voice hushed.

Anaya stiffened. “The wolf?”

Eden took one step forward, and then another. He squinted. “... No. I think it’s… a person.”

“A what?”

Who would be out here? Thanks to flooding on the more well-known trails, this park had been more or less empty of tourists. It was one of the reasons Eden and Anaya had chosen this for their off-trail campsite. Eden moved slowly forward, and Anaya followed him. Once she got closer, though, she moved more quickly, dropping her bag next to the car and moving into a crouch.

The sound of her pack hitting the pavement made the boy curled up under the car flinch, his arms jerking to cover his head with his hands, knees nearly to his chin. Anaya caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair through his fingers, a swath of pale skin marked with brown freckles at the shoulders, the tip of his nose.

“Hello?” Anaya whispered, reaching slowly out. Her fingertips just touched the boy when his eyes snapped open and he looked at her with wild, animal terror.

His eyes were the same color as the wolf’s.

His hair was the same color as the wolf’s fur had been, reddish brown, maybe tipped with some gray.

His left leg had a wound blown right through it - bullet wound, Anaya thought a little wildly, I’m looking at the entrance and the exit’s at the back, he’s lucky it didn’t hit the artery there - and the blood was… everywhere.

The boy’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a useless snarl. His teeth were flat, human, except for maybe his incisors being a little too long, a little too sharp. He had scars marked across his face, around his neck, all over his arms. Some old, simply silk-soft skin marked in risen lines, some fresher, still bright red. A couple even looked like they’d been bleeding recently, too. He made a sound that Anaya only realized after a beat was an attempt to growl.

“... This is the wolf,” Anaya said, voice low. “Eden… Eden, this is the wolf.”

“What? No. That’s clearly a dude. The poacher must have seen him and shot him.”

“No, this is-... his eyes Eden-”

“That’s not a wolf, Naya. End of story. That is a dumbass teenager who did dumbass things. Somebody’s probably looking for him.”

Anaya thought of the poacher’s confusion, his angry concern. “... Yeah, somebody probably is.”

Eden dropped into a crouch beside her, casually pulling out the knife he always had on him, flicking it so the blade showed. “Naya, something’s wrong with this kid.”

The boy’s eyes went to the gleam of sharp metal and he whined, curling up tighter. Anaya frowned, looking at his leg. The blood. The wound. The way the boy’s skin was ash-pale under his freckles. The scars, half of them rough but the other half precise.

Knife-blade scars. She had some old ones herself, although hers had been self-inflicted.

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, felt it trembling under her touch. She could barely reach him, he was so far under the car. “Hey.” She gentled her voice as much as she could, rubbing lightly. Goosebumps rose where her fingertips went, but the trembling seemed to settle a little. “Hey, kid. You’re… you’re really hurt. We’re gonna call someone-”

The boy scrambled backwards away. “No!” His voice came out hoarse, as if he wasn’t used to speaking - or speaking with a human mouth, anyway. “No! Don’t! Don’t call!” He made it to the other side of the car, scrambling to his feet. Anaya went to chase him, but in the end she didn’t have to - as soon as he tried to put weight on his leg, he went down hard, scraping the palms of his hands on the pavement and letting out a pained cry.

Anaya swallowed. “Eden-”

“I’ll call 911-”

“No,” she whispered. “He’s scared of that. Let’s just… let’s just put him in the back of the car, yeah?”

Eden paused. “Naya, are you fucking out of your mind? Where are we gonna take him? He needs a hospital.”

“Or a vet clinic,” She muttered, ignoring the look Eden gave her at the dark joke. “No, let’s just. Okay, let’s just… we have our first aid kit. You know how to do stitches-”

“Stitches, sure, but I’m not exactly qualified to treat wounds like that.”

“Try. Let’s get him into the car. Hey, kid? Kid, hey.” Anaya went to the crumpled heap of teenager, grasping onto his arm. He shivered and tried weakly to pull away, but between the pain and the blood loss, he wasn’t exactly able to put up much of a fight. Eden opened the trunk of the car and threw in their packs while Anaya helped the boy to stand. She could hear Eden laying down the towels and sleeping bags, opening up the first aid kit.

That’s why she loved him. He might think she’d lost her mind on this, but he’d still follow her lead.

The injured boy gripped onto her once he was upright, his eyes dancing in terror from Eden to Anaya and back again.

“Don’t,” He whispered. “Don’t.”

“We’re just going to get you bandaged up and something to eat,” Anaya said, voice soothing, easing him into the trunk until he could lay down in there. “Then we can talk, okay? First off, we need to stop the bleeding.”

Those odd eyes stared at her, but he laid down on his side slowly. Anaya had been vaguely aware the boy was naked, but only now did it hit her that the boy didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“I’m Anaya,” She said, softly, taking his hand and holding it while Eden took a wet cloth and began to wipe away the blood to try and get a better look at the wound. “I’m Anaya Cross, and this is my boyfriend Eden Yarrow. We’re going to help you.”

“There’s no exit wound,” Eden muttered, looking at the backside of the boy’s thigh. “He needs a surgeon, Naya-”

“Well, good thing you trained to be one, huh?"

"Yeah, before I quit residency-"

"Eden, just... can you get the bullet out?”

Eden exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Probably. It's a pretty clean wound. I definitely shouldn’t, but…”

“Well, try.” She turned back to the boy, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. The kid stared at her like she’d grown a second head, but he didn’t pull his hand back. He just… watched her, with those strange canine eyes. “Hey. We’re gonna get the bullet out of you, and then we’ll help you get somewhere with people.”

“No,” He said again. His eyes moved from one to the other. “No… people.”

Eden’s eyes closed. He muttered something under his breath that Anaya didn’t quite hear. Then he moved to dig around in the first aid kit again.

“Okay. Well, we’ll figure that bit out as we go, then. Can you tell us your name?”

She thought of the poacher mentioning Rusty.

The boy was quiet for a long, drawn-out silence broken only by a hiss when Eden used a sanitizing wipe on the wound, cleaning it out again as best he could. Finally, almost under his breath, he whispered, “Misae.”

“Missy?” Eden said, nose wrinkling. “Your name is Missy?”

The boy’s odd eyes narrowed. “Misae,” He repeated, a little louder. Mih-say-eh. Some of the gravelly hoarseness was leaving his voice, the more he spoke. Anaya wondered if he didn’t speak often.

“That man with the gun called you Rusty, I think,” Anaya said, keeping her own voice gentle.

“... their name for me.” Misae hissed through his teeth, lips pulled back in a snarl again as Eden began to probe into the wound, eyes closing tightly. Tears leaked fro the corners of his eyes. Anaya gave him both her hands and he gripped on tight enough to hurt, making a sound that was clearly meant to be a canine whine. “Not… my name.”

“But Misae is your name.”

“Y… Yes.” His head lowered until the top of it, the shaggy reddish hair, pressed against her. He kept pushing against her, until she twisted one hand free and laid it there, scratching her fingers against his scalp. His whining softened, then. It was all so terribly… doglike.

No.

Wolf.

Anaya tried not to look as his leg twitched and oozed blood even as Eden carefully worked one of the tools he kept on hand into the wound, searching for the bullet. Misae didn’t answer at first. She leaned over, hoping her voice could carry through the pain. “It’s okay, honey. You’re going to be okay.”

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Misae groaned, finally laying his head directly in her lap. She could feel his tears soaking into her sweatpants, the hitching of his breath as he fought not to sob. His voice was a whisper she barely heard, twisted around his pained, frightened whimpers.

“Th-thank… thank you…”

“Found it!” Eden shouted, triumphant. He might have been reluctant to do this, but there was a reason he’d worked so hard to fill his first aid kit with anything you might need to stay alive in the wilderness when medical care was too far to get to in time. There was a reason he’d trained as a surgeon. He was good at this, he always had been. He wiggled the little tool, making Misae cry harder, but then something bloody and shimmering beneath the red came out, and Eden dropped it on a towel beside Misae. “Intact, even. Nice.”

Eden was focused on getting the wound closed up and stitches sewn. Anaya though, watched blood slide along the surface of the bullet, too big, a terrifying size. The gleam of the metal, though, along with the strange runes carved into it, made her eyebrows furrow. “... Eden.”

“Mmmn?” He dipped the needle, pulled it through skin. Anaya knew if she looked she’d faint dead away, so she kept her eyes on the bullet. On the shine.

“That’s… that hunter shot him with silver.”

Eden stilled and looked up, his eyes catching on the bullet, too. Then shifting over to Misae, who was shaking like a leaf, eyes open now, wide and almost sightless. In shock, Anaya thought, not that she knew for sure or even really understood what being in shock meant. But it reminded her of people going into shock in the movies, on television. Eden’s eyes moved to meet Anaya’s.

“Once I finish stitching him up,” He said, voice low and calm, “We drive this car as far away from here as we can get before we stop.”

“We’re taking him with us.”

“... Naya-”

Anaya’s jaw set and she raised her chin. “We’re taking Misae.”

Eden looked down at the boy, who didn’t seem to hear or even see the two of them any longer. Then he huffed and went back to what he was doing, sewing slow, careful, precise stitches even as he had to continually wipe away blood, too. “Fine. We go as far as we can with him, and then we… think about what we do next. Figure out how to call his family or something.”

“Fair.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They paused, and smiled at each other.

Then Misae whimpered, and Anaya realized she’d stopped scratching his head. She started up again, and felt some of his shaking settle once more. “Do you have family?” Anaya asked, trying to distract him as Eden finished up. “Someone looking for you?”

Misae was silent for so long that she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her.

Then he answered, voice low, “No family. Not… anymore."

"Did you run away from them?"

"No.” Misae's body shuddered, and Anaya found herself rubbing her thumb in little circles just behind one ear. "No."

"Then-"

"Dead. Everyone... is dead. But me."

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