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damn-stark · 5 months ago

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THEYRE ALL UP HOORAY, NOW ONTO SEASON 2!!!

Chapter 8 Chateau

Chapter 8 of Moonlight

A/N- You and young Rhaenyra would’ve been the bestest of friends.

Warning- Swearing, angst, NFSW, quickie before mc leaves, FLUFF, talks of blood, death, miscarriage, pregnancy, LONG CHAPTER.

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

Episode- 1x08-1x09

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

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“…and he said to me, well you’re sort of beautiful. So I look at him confused.” You tell Rhaena and Baela about a memory from your years in Winterfell. “I'm like, I'm either one or the other, tell me if I should be offended or touched.”

Rhaena giggles and leans in closer to you. “What did he say?”

You grab onto the edge of the dinner table and lean in between the both of them to whisper. “He went on to throw up on himself,” you grumble and Baela and Rhaena groan in disgust.

“But! The next day he said the same thing to another girl, so,” you snicker, “my friends and I grabbed him after he blacked out and laid him in front of Astraea. When he woke up he shit his pants in front of all the ladies he had been hitting on.”

The three of you burst out laughing at your story, causing Jacaerys to shove himself between Baela and you. “What’s so funny?” He probes.

You part your lips to answer, but Baela cuts him off. “Lady business.”

You peer over at him and snicker.

“Well,” he counters nonchalantly and smirks. “I suppose I won’t share what I just told Lucerys.”

Your curiosity piques and without an ounce of hesitation, you look back at him, noticing him looking all smug.

However, before he can even try and share his part, the hall doors open and guards carrying your grandfather in a chair walk in, silencing the chatter that fills the room, and making everyone, including you, stand from their seats in respect of the King's arrival.

“Tell us later,” you whisper to your brother.

He leans over and counters. “As long as you tell me what you shared.”

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes and nod in agreement. You then return your focus to the King getting carried to his spot in the middle of the table, and only return to your spot beside Aemond once the King is put down.

“How good it is,” your grandfather interjects in his raspy voice. “To see you all tonight…together.” He finishes strong and takes a moment to examine everyone gathered around the table.

“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent cuts in.

Your grandfather turns his head to look at his wife and nods. “Yes,” he whispers.

You sigh and clasp your hands together over the table, but you don’t close your eyes like Alicent and her family do.

Even if you do follow the Old Gods, you don’t much pray to them over dinner, nor do you make it your entire personality like Alicent with her New Gods, but out of respect you do stay quiet and listen to her.

“May the Mother smile down on the gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for too long.”

You slowly drop your head and roll your eyes at her comment because after all, who’s fault is this strain exactly? Your mother was nothing but patient during the years she lived here with you and your siblings; the boys only messed around with one another because they were just children messing around. The only reason you don’t like Aegon is because he’s a creep with the ladies, and you, but the hostility? The name calling? That was all Alicent.

So can she please stop acting?!

“…And to Vaemond Velaryon, May the gods give him rest.”

Okay, now that time has passed you have to admit even if you don’t want to…what Daemon did to him was…well deserved. You won't praise the man to his face, but it was impressive. After the disgust and horror passed of course.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” your grandfather interjects once the prayer is done, pulling your gaze back over the table—“My grandsons, Jace and Luke will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena.”

You smile at the newly betrothed and reach over for your goblet.

“Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes…and their betrothed.”

A grin spreads on your lips and you don’t fret to raise your cup to all of them.

“Hear, hear!” Daemon exclaims.

As you take a sip from your wine you reach over and interlace your fingers with Aemond’s as you remember your own wedding. He proceeds to immediately glance over at you, finding you a hundred times more interesting than the people he’s forced to break bread with and puts his goblet down to lean over and press a kiss on the side of your head, making you smile and tighten your hold around his.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys,” the King adds. “The future Lord of the Tides.”

You raise your cup again and this time you exclaim. “Hear, hear!”

Lucerys gaze finds you and a thankful smile shows on his lips before he drifts his gaze to Rhaena.

“You’ll be great,” you hear her compliment him, making you smile softly with joy because you're happy she's showing him a gentle kindness. He deserves someone kind like her.

“It both gladdens my heart,” your grandfather keeps speaking, but this time he stands on his feet so everyone can look at him. “And fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world…yet grown so distant from each other…in the years past.”

You swallow thickly and begin to caress the back of Aemond’s hand with your thumb.

At the feeling of the soft pad of your thumb caressing his skin, his eyes fall on you and linger while you watch your grandfather with hesitation as he begins to take his mask off.

You have seen him without it on a few times, but seeing the muscles of his cheek stick out still brings you goosebumps—Not his eye socket though, Aemond and him share that similarity, and you’ve helped Aemond clean his fleshy eye socket before, but the flesh on your grandfather's cheek is not the same.

“My old face…is no longer a handsome one…if it indeed ever was. But tonight,” he mutters. “I wish you to see me…as I am. Not just a King…but your father. Your brother. Your husband…and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you.”

You let out a deep breath and avert your gaze to avoid having them cloud with tears. Aemond notices and pulls your hand to his lap so he can hold it with both of his hands.

“Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts,” he goes on and slams his cane against the floor. “The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown…then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.” He lets out a heavy breath and sits back down, letting your mother abruptly stand up with her goblet in the air.

“I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen,” your mother interjects, catching you off guard. “I love my father, but I must admit that no one has stood…more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with…unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude…and my apology.”

You grab your goblet again and take a small drink.

“I also would like to add,” your mother says a bit softer this time, and with a smile, she directs at you. “How thankful I am to my daughter and Prince Aemond, you have made me a grandmother…”

You smile brightly and share your glee with Aemond.

“…I am thankful for that every day. To Aerion, may he continue to grow and be happy.”

“Hear, hear,” Alicent says quietly, whilst Aemond, you, and everyone around the table take a drink.

“I will also like to add,” Alicent continues to say. “That your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers…and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She goes to pause so she can stand up and raise her goblet. “I raise my cup to you…and to your house. You will make a fine Queen.”

You bring your cup to your lips and take the last sip of wine before you stand up as well, causing one of your hands to slip off Aemond’s. “I would like to toast to my mother and family. Six years was far too long and I'm glad to see you all again, I missed you all—And to my brothers.” You smile, whilst a servant refills your goblet. “And Rhaena and Baela, may you share a loving and fruitful marriage.” You sit back down and take a drink at the same time your family does too.

Silence falls after that, letting you reach over to grab some fruit from the trays. When you sit back down and plop a grape in your mouth, suddenly Jacaerys slams his hands on the table and gets up, pulling the attention of everyone to him, and bringing a deafening silence to the table.

You raise your eyebrow and squint your gaze in confusion, but Jacaerys just clears his throat and only provides you with more confusion. However, that confusion quickly washes away as Aemond stands up and stares your brother down.

“Aemond,” you whisper and take his hand.

Said man keeps his glare on Jacaerys, adding tension to the table. You follow his line of gaze and watch your brother playfully hit Aegon's arm before raising his cup and meeting your husband's gaze.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond…”

You swallow thickly and look up at Aemond again to plead. “<Aemond, my love, please.>”

Aemond blinks and meets your gaze briefly. You think he'll overreact, so you prepare yourself to try and calm him down, but he seems to find a solution to his conflict in your pleading gaze and sighs before he slowly sits back down to just listen.

“We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles.” Jacaerys makes a friendly toast and raises his cup, followed by Baela.

The awkward tension doesn't leave but you slowly drink to your brother's words while you wrap your hand around Aemond’s arm.

“To you as well,” Aegon adds awkwardly.

Now you want this to come to an end before things turn bad. Aemond is already more upset than he initially was. And you can’t just see it in his stiff body, and pursed lips, but he gives his emotions away by pulling his arm from your grasp, letting you know he’s upset that you were trying to stop him from overreacting.

You howbeit don’t take offense to his petty act, you find it funny and immediately put your hand over his again. Aemond slowly drags his eye to the side in annoyance, and you slowly do the same but shoot him a playful smirk when you meet his gaze.

Aemond sighs and looks away as he takes his hand away again, but you pull his hand down and rub his hand against your thigh before you lean close to his ear to whisper cockily. “You can be upset all you want, it makes for a more entertaining night.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips twitch to a smile, but he doesn’t let it show in front of the others.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You assure him and then press a kiss on his cheek before you look to your other side as Helaena gets up too.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” Helaena says. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you…”

Aemond grips onto your thigh before you both share awkward glances due to his sister's speech.

“…except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Scattered laughs spread around the table, but you just blink and glare over at Aegon.

“Let us have some music,” your grandfather brings an end to the toast, letting you turn to face Aemond.

“So I thought,” you tell him, gaining his full attention. “If my family doesn’t end up staying long, after Aerion and I come back from Dragonstone, we go to the vacation house. We can present Aerion to the countryside, just be alone and have calm nights, hm?” You share your idea.

Nevertheless, Aemond’s attention drifts behind you rather quickly, you follow his line of gaze and notice Jacaerys and Helaena starting to dance.

“Aw.” You grin. “How adorable.”

Aemond hums dryly, letting you know he didn't like it one bit, so you block his line of gaze and distract him. “So what do you say? After I come back, do you want to take a nice trip?”

Aemond sighs. “All right,” he agrees as he holds your gaze.

You beam at him and steal a kiss from his lips before you face the table again. Yet just before you can grab any food, a shadow gets cast over you, and Aemond’s grip on your thigh tightens.

“Sister,” you recognize Lucerys say, making you look over at him standing beside your chair with his hand out. “Would you like to dance?” He asks and slides his gaze to Aemond at your other side to shoot him a small smirk. “If that’s okay of course.”

Even though he is playing some stupid game to annoy Aemond, you gladly take your brother's hand and don’t even ask Aemond for permission because Lucerys is your little brother. You don’t need permission to dance with him. However, as you do follow Lucerys out to the floor you do feel Aemond’s gaze on you. When you come to a brief stop and grab your brother's hands, you look back and see exactly that, Aemond watching Lucerys and you carefully, as if your brother was going to suddenly just steal you or something.

Thus just to reassure Aemond of his ridiculous concern you offer him a soft smile before you begin to follow Lucerys’s lead.

“You’ve come a long way from dancing on my feet,” you tell Lucerys as you pull apart and continue to dance. “I’m impressed.”

“There’s not much to do at Dragonstone,” he comments whilst you both hook your arms around each other to spin slowly to the beat. “Besides, mother made us take lessons.”

You giggle. “Well, you’ll make your future wife very happy. It’s always impressive when a man is a willing dance partner.”

“Is it?” Lucerys asks curiously and steals a glance at Rhaena.

You nod. “It is. It’s a way to a woman’s heart. For some anyway.”

He laughs and meets your gaze with a serious look in his eyes. “What’s the other?”

You grin in awe and respond honestly. “Attention, so don't make her feel alone. Listening. Affection and humor.”

Lucerys hums softly before you link arms again and begin spinning slowly once more.

“Dragonstone wasn’t the same without you,” he says again. “We missed you.”

You hold his gaze and offer him a sweeter smile. “I missed you. I’m happy you haven’t changed, don’t let anyone change you.”

You proceed to grab each other's hands and dance around Helaena and Jacaerys before you turn back to back, lift your arms as if forming wings, and then pull away to turn to face each other again.

Before you can finish your dance though, you both come to a slow stop as you notice your grandfather getting carried. When he's being taken away, all you hear him do is groan in pain and you can't help but feel pity that he can’t be the man he once was.

At least he got to witness a part of this family dinner. As tense as it has been, it must've been nice after only seeing the same four walls, and laying in bed all day.

Nevertheless, after he is taken out of the room, a higher tension fills the room at the same time a roasted pig is brought in. Thus you don’t continue to dance in a tense-filled room, instead, you point to the table.

“Let’s go eat some dinner, hm?” You suggest.

Lucerys nods before laughing as he walks you to your chair. “You sound like mother.”

You flash him a simple happy smile before you take your seat beside Aemond and watch your brother return to his seat across the table. And now that you are seated, Aemond fixes his chair to the way it was before.

“I’m still here,” you tease him and take his hand once again. “But if you were so worried you should’ve danced with me.”

Aemond hums, making you snicker before you change the subject. “I have something I want to give you later. It…took me a long while to perfect, but I think you’ll like it.”

Aemond blinks in surprise before he turns his head to face you with confusion and curiosity. “What is it?” He asks.

You shrug softly and bat your lashes. “You just have to wait and see. Or I’ll tell you now if you dance with me?” You tease him with a smirk. “Hm?”

Aemond looks at the dance floor that Jacaerys and Helaena still occupy before meeting your gaze and letting out a deep sigh. “Fine.”

You blink in surprise and pull back. “Really?” You ask him now. “You’ll dance with me?”

Aemond nods. “I will.”

You beam at him with awe and excitement, but…just as you stand up, and before you can pull him up, his gaze drifts away for a second, only a few moments, but it’s long enough for him to catch something that pisses him off so much that he rips his arm from your grasp and slams his hand on the table, cutting off all noise that traveled within.

“Final tribute,” he interjects. “To the health of my nephews.”

Your smile fades completely and instead, you begin to nervously bite the inside of your cheek.

“Jace,” Aemond names. “Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he trails off and takes a long pause while he stares Lucerys down again.

“Aemond,” you warn him without an ounce of softness in your tone this time.

But of course, he ignores you. “Hm,” he hums. “Strong.”

You clench your jaw and fill with anger; not because he dared to say that to them, there’s no need fueling those comments. You're mad because he ruined this supper. Couldn’t he just hold it in and silently just glare and hate? That’s what you’re doing with Daemon.

“Aemond,” his mother attempts to stop him too.

“Come,” Aemond continues and ignores Alicent as well. “Let us drain our cups to these three…strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys snaps at him angrily.

“Why?” Aemond counters and faces him with his cup raised. “‘Twas only a compliment.”

He breaks away from his spot and passes you to stride to Jacaerys. “Do you not think yourself strong?”

You know Jacaerys has a short temper, you know Aemond doesn’t hold back, so you slowly follow after him and try to plead again. “Aemond, please stop.”

Yet now rather than ending up being hit after trying to stop a fight, Jacaerys swings his fist across Aemond’s face.

Your eyes widen in shock, and you reach your hands out to help your husband, but nevertheless, the punch doesn’t seem to affect Aemond, he doesn’t even drop his wine or sway. So you have to admit that it's impressive, it really impresses you, but now isn't the time, besides as Jacaerys and Aemond confront each other, from the corner of your eye you catch Aegon slamming Lucerys face into the table.

Now rather than staying put and trying to plead, as if triggered by your brother's pain and the anger Aemond made you feel, you charge at Aegon without hesitation and quickly slam your hand on the back of his head and clutch a chunk of hair. You then grab his shoulder and yank him back harshly. When Aegon finds his footing he looks at you bewildered, but that expression is quickly wiped away as you proceed to swing your right fist across his face harshly, causing him to stumble back.

“Try that again,” you snap at Aegon.

Guards head over to you to try and stop you, but before they can try and touch you, a threatening “don’t,” is snapped at them.

You quickly dart your gaze to the side and see Daemon stop by you, challenging the guards with his glare alone.

Of course, the guards don’t dare and move toward you now, nor do they hold Aegon back—Not like he made any attempt to hit you back, he just holds his cheek in complete surprise. When he catches your gaze he pulls his hand away and you notice a small bleeding cut under his eye that you had made.

You should feel bad, but you don’t, you actually feel proud that you managed to hurt him. Besides Aegon doesn’t seem at all affected, he notices the blood and begins to chuckle before he walks away.

You scoff and roll your eyes, catching the guards failing to hold Jacaerys back now.

“…Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of there’s!” You hear Aemond exclaim, and when you look over you see him stride to Jacaerys, so you quickly turn around to face the scene, but before you can even think of getting in between them, your mother's hand falls on your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait! Wait!” Daemon interjects and nonchalantly strides in between both young men, making the both of them stop in their attempts to continue fighting. He then proceeds to face Jacaerys and walks him back without the need to say anything.

“Go to your quarters,” your mother orders your brothers and cousins behind you. “All of you. Now.”

You glance over your shoulder and watch them all leave. When they’re gone you focus back on Aemond and see him challenge Daemon’s glare in silence.

You tighten your hold around your mother's and watch them both carefully in anticipation, readying yourself in case either of them snap.

However, Aemond then hums and walks away, bringing the entire supper to a dramatic end.

“If you still wish to accompany us to Dragonstone, my Sweet,” your mother interjects. “Pack what you need, we’re leaving tonight.”

You watch Aemond leave out the hall before you look at your mother and nod in comprehension. “I will. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She nods in comprehension and lets you let her go so you can leave the hall after Aemond. Yet when you see him walking toward your chambers you make no attempt to pick up your pace to catch up to him, you keep your own pace behind him, and try to calm yourself down before walking into your shared quarters.

Nevertheless, you ultimately fail when you are in the privacy of your chambers. You don’t speak to another right away. You let a tension fill the room since Vanessa walks in only a few minutes later.

“Pack for two week's worth,” you let her know as you walk to your closet. “We won’t stay long. After that please put Wolf in his crate, we'll take him too, and then take Aerion, we’ll ride with my mother and dare I say it…my stepfather.” You sigh deeply.

“Right away, Princess,” Vanessa says and walks up behind you to take the gowns you were picking out from your hands. “Should I pack riding outfits?”

“Hm.” You think for a second and briefly glance at her. “Yes, just two.”

Vanessa nods, but she then stops what she’s doing and meets your gaze. “I can do it. I know you well, I won’t be long.”

You share a soft and relieved smile before you let her do her job. Yet now you return to the tension, but! Of course, Aemond doesn't look bothered by any of it!

You can be upset at one another and he always looks nonchalant, and it irks you! You want him to be mad at you, you want him to react, not just sit there and brood in front of the fire.

“Whatever it is you want to say,” Aemond suddenly makes you jump. “Say it. You’ll bleed if you bite your tongue any harder.”

You clasp your hands together and slowly begin to fiddle with your hands as you begin pacing with your mouth shut. Vanessa is still here and you don’t want to have an audience.

“Unless you want to leave upset,” he adds and keeps looking at the fire.

When you don’t respond, he presses as he finally peers back at you. “Hm?”

You stop pacing behind him and let out a frustrated breath, but don’t start just yet, you wait. It's not until Vanessa is out and no longer in the hall that you start and give him what he wants. “Why did you do it?” You mutter out in frustration.

Aemond remains as he is and gives you what you want. “I didn’t do anything, I gave a toast, your brother—”

“No,” you cut him off and storm around him to stand in front of him so he can see your anger. “No, don't bullshit me, Aemond. Seven hells, you antagonized them.”

Aemond finally meets your gaze, and you deepen your scowl.

“He hit me first,” he spats but in a very collected manner. “Or are you choosing not to see that?”

You shake your head. “I’m not siding with either of you. It was stupid that he hit you, and it was stupid of you to provoke him.”

Aemond blinks in surprise and finally chooses to slowly stand to his given his height as if trying to intimidate you, but you aren’t at all affected.

“I try to be understanding, I always have,” you continue to argue and step back as he steps forward. “I never try to take sides or try to tell you how to feel, but when you provoke them I can’t help but get mad at you. I told you to wait it out, just for dinner, but…” you trail off and shake your head. “You can’t even do that.”

“He hit me first, what did you want me to do?” He argues and takes a step towards you again, this time you stay put, this time you’re the nonchalant one, making him finally give you a reaction that you want because your calm demeanor pisses him off; you can tell by the way he clenches his jaw, flares his nose, and curls his thin lips.

“You hit Aegon, do you hear me remarking on that?” He spats.

You scoff. “I don’t give a shit about Aegon. Your brother is a bad man, he deserved it.”

“Did I?” He cuts in bluntly.

“No,” you quickly assure him. “No. But I wanted you to just listen. To me. I told you to sit through it. I didn’t say get over it, but you started it,” you stop again to catch your breath before you turn away to avoid shedding angry tears. “If you have so much hatred for my brothers then,” you pause and huff, shoving away all your anger with that huff of air and leaving yourself vulnerable. “…how can you honestly love me?”

Aemond hears the quiver in your voice and sighs, losing all his will to argue with anger, and growing weak and gentle at the mere shift in your emotions.

“You aren’t the same as them,” he says softly and grabs your shoulders.

You want to say what he’s thinking; a bastard, but you can’t, so you bite your tongue and watch the flames as if you’ll find your solace amongst them.

“You never have been,” Aemond continues. “You’ve never been cruel to me, not when we were kids. You never laughed at me because of what I lacked. Even when I lost my eye and people looked at me with disgust, you never scrunched your nose. When we got older and I was distant you still picked me.”

…well…

“That’s why I love you,” he says and turns you around to lift your head with his knuckle so you can meet his gaze and show you that he's being honest and vulnerable with you. “Forgive me for upsetting you. I won’t apologize for what I did, I would be lying if I did.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“But,” he adds and cups your face to keep you looking at him. “I am sorry for upsetting you.”

You hold his gaze and then can’t help but glance at his lips after those words leave his mouth, feeling a spark of desire coil inside you.

“Say you forgive me,” he whispers. “I don't want to leave things like this.”

You draw in a deep breath and touch his chest. “Just,” you breathe out. “Please stop provoking them. Stop with the snide comments. It’s okay to still be upset, I could never understand what you feel, and I could never ask you to forgive him, but please for me, for Aerion, just leave them alone,” you plead and press your other hand against his jaw. “You are better than that, Aemond. I know it. You have a good heart, you always have.”

Aemond’s gaze softens and he immediately presses his forehead against yours, letting you then slide your hands to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry too,” you add. “I shouldn't have gotten so angry at you.”

Aemond shakes his head and assures you softly. “There’s no need for apologies, not from you.”

You flash him a grin and then gently press your lips against his.

He actually doesn’t kiss you back right away, he savors the taste of your kiss since you’ll be leaving him for two weeks. It’s only when you’re about to pull back that he pulls you back in, leading you into a slow and gentle kiss that neither of you try to rush and instead let fuel your burning desires. You let your affection and need for each other control you. All you know is that you were going to be late meeting your mother and the rest of your family.

“I,” you say between the slow kisses. “I’m not bleeding. It was a false alarm. We can do this. I want you, so I can remember how you felt when I’m alone.”

Aemond chuckles softly and meets your gaze with a smirk. “I wouldn't have cared if you were.”

You mirror his gesture and before long those slow and sweet kisses turn rougher and sloppier, lighting your body on fire with desire, and putting his member at attention for you to drool over.

When he notices your hungry gaze he grabs the back of your hand and presses your palm over his clothed member. You smirk and turn your wrist to grab a hold of his aching cock, but leave him craving your touch, and instead, you strip down to nothing, making him walk back to sit on the couch and watch how the firelight captures your body so perfectly for only him to see.

When you’re left with nothing on but the jewelry you wear, you walk to him and simply unbuckle his pants and pull them down and let his cock spring out and fill your mind with so many dirty thoughts.

Unfortunately, most can’t come to flourish today though, you have to satisfy yourself with one thing so you’re not left in shambles without him in Dragonstone. Thus you saddle his hips and press a kiss on the corner of his lips.

Aemond groans in complaint as he wants more, and wants nothing more but to make each other one, but you must want to keep people waiting because you begin to leave a trail of kisses down to his neck, making a chill travel down his spine, and a wicked smirk to play on his lips.

“Fuck me,” you demand him. “So I can go to sleep tonight thinking about how good you make me feel when you’re inside me,” you whisper so seductively that his breath hitches and his hands fall on your hips to push you down to his aching member because he can’t go on not feeling you gummy walls.

He wanted you since the moment you placed his hand on your thigh, but he kept his patience, and now that you’re in the privacy of your room and he’s no longer bothered by the mere sight of the visitors around the table, all he wants is you; your lips, your breasts, and your aching cunt that weeps for him, that squeezes him so tight he groans in your mouth.

You’ve felt him many times before, but still, each time his cock goes in it’s like the first time; he’s so long.

“Wait, wait,” you pant and take his hand that he keeps on your hip, and bring it up to his face. When he figures out what you want, he grabs his eyepatch and pulls it off his head. Once the firelight gleams against his sapphire you smile sweetly and give him a taste of what he wants by rolling your hips, making him push himself deeper inside you as his breathing falters and his hand slides back to grab a handful of your ass.

“Aemond,” you can’t help but moan.

He bites his lip and once he has his composure he captures your lips and rolls his tongue inside before he starts thrusting his length inside you, making you stop your attempts to suck on his tongue and instead claw his shoulders.

Now that pleasure that coils feels like wildfire. You’re overwhelmed with pleasure in the best way possible, not being able to think about anything but the way his cock keeps rubbing against your walls as he moves in and out of you even if you’re the one on top

You don’t even want to lose touch with his wet lips because it adds to the sensation and the pleasuring fire, but you can’t hold it in, and he’s not moving his lips anymore because he’s so lost in his pleasure; you pull back, but stay connected by a string of saliva for a moment as you catch your breath before you throw your head back and start to moan his name like prayer as his cock keeps penetrating you roughly.

“So perfect. So perfectly made for…me,” he babbles on with a half-lidded eye. “Fuck,” he hisses and grips your ass, leaving marks that you can’t feel because of how lost you are in the sensation of his cock bullying inside you.

You don’t bother to do any work until he fits himself all the way inside and hits that heavenly g-spot.

“Aemond, please,” you beg before you lean back and grab his thighs to start bouncing for him, leaving you in a perfect angle for him to watch how your tits bounce with your delicious movements.

He could keep watching you all day, but you have him too fired up, his insides are turning and threatening to snap, and two weeks without your touch is hell, so he cups your breasts and begins messaging them as he thrusts up to meet your hips, creating obscene sounds of skin slapping that echo around the room.

“Aemond,” you whine, making him moan to the ceiling and move faster.

You keep whining his name as the tip of his cock keeps hitting that perfect spot that is about to tip everything over and bring an end to this quick goodbye sex. And hearing him heave and moan your name isn’t helping, you begin to squeeze tighter, driving him further to the edge, and only fueling his roughness.

You want to prolong this moment, keep feeling him inside your guts, but the time is ticking and they will leave you behind, so you lean in and continue to kiss him, finding his weakness by pushing your tongue in his open-mouthed kiss.

Aemond lets out a throaty groan and starts rolling your hips for you, bringing you to a stop as you can’t hold it back anymore, a blinding pleasure slams in you, and all you see are stars as you drown his cock with your warm cum. He doesn’t last longer either, he grows sloppier, and his breathing grows ragged until he snaps and moans inside your mouth as he spills his hot seed inside you.

After a few sloppy thrusts, he falls back on the couch and you fall on his chest and hang your hands around his neck.

“I will never get tired of this,” you murmur as you caress the back of his neck and lose your gaze on the fire in the distance that makes you both gleam because of the sweat that sticks to your skin. “This is better than flying.”

Aemond chuckles. “I have to admit it is,” he says in that low voice that works to lure you and tempts you to go for a second round. But you hold back for the sake of your waiting family and instead smile and press a kiss on his shoulder before you pull back to face him.

“Once we move to Dragonstone, you will get tired of me.”

Aemond scoffs. “I never could. Never.”

You offer him a soft smile before you grab his shoulders as you remember something. “That’s right! My present!” You giggle and then slip off, making you both groan and leaving you both feeling empty.

Even so, you take no time to think about the chill or the good way you ache, you excitedly run to the chest in your room.

Aemond watches your naked body with a smirk and a craving for more.

“Since we did get married so suddenly I couldn’t have this made before, but…” you trail off and pull out a long-sheathed weapon. “…I do have it now. That’s what counts.”

You turn around and show off the sheathed sword. “This is for you, my love.”

You rush back to him, but he meets you halfway after pulling his pants on so you won't have to carry it all the way to him.

“I do hope you like it,” your voice grows quieter with worry and insecurity. “And any adjustments you may need let the smith know.”

Aemond takes the sheathed weapon from you with hesitance as if he doesn’t believe you’re being honest.

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Open it.”

Aemond takes a moment and looks at you first with awe before he unwraps the pommel first, showing off a dragon's head that is shaped like Vhagar.

You can’t contain your excitement even if you don’t know if he’ll like it, and point at the gems where the eyes are meant to be. “Tiny green emeralds for the eyes because your dragon is green,” you grin and shake his arm. “Go on, reveal the blade!”

Aemond drops his gaze and can’t hide his grin as he unsheathes the long blade that glimmers brightly against the fire's light.

“Now,” you add as you wrap your arms around his neck to admire the silver metal mixes with the dark metal that is Valyrian steel. “I know it isn't fully Valyrian Steel, but…I used my chain necklace to mix some in. Now you’ll always carry a bit of me with you, even when we’re apart.”

You look at him and admire him using his finger to trace the dark metal elegantly swirled in the blade.

“Do you like it?” You whisper and watch for any slight twitch on his face that could give away that he doesn’t.

However, Aemond doesn't let you read the side of his face too long at all because he lifts his gaze as he puts the sword down and turns around to face you with a soft awestruck smile that he only lets you see.

He's usually so stiff and nonchalant because there’s almost always people around, but when it’s just Aerion, and you, he lets go, he laughs with such deep and genuine amusement and lets his blue eye glimmer adoration that makes it hard not to fall in love with him.

“I love it,” he says before he kisses you. Yet it doesn’t last long because he pulls back and whispers against your lips. “I love you.”

You smile with awe and don’t hesitate to repeat those words that once tasted bitter when you spoke them to him. “I love you too. Now and forever.” You mean your words of affection. Truly.

“Now and forever,” he repeats.

With one more kiss from his lips, you then quickly dress yourself and fix what was messed up. Before leaving to meet with your mother though, you prolong the moment longer by bringing in Aerion.

“Now my sweet boy,” you tell him. “Say goodbye to your father.”

Aerion eyes fill with tears and his pout trembles as your words make sense in his mind.

“You’ll sleep again soon enough,” Aemond assures the cranky baby. “I’ll see you in two week's time.” He presses a kiss on Aerion’s head of curls and caresses his cheek one more time before he gives you attention. “Send a Raven if anything happens. I’ll write to you later.”

You nod and steal one more kiss, but linger in each other's taste before you pull away and force yourself to leave before you change your mind and stay with Aemond.

Once you finally meet up with your family to leave, Jacaerys groans. “What took you so long?” He complains.

You shoot him a glare and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it,” you brush him off.

Since your mother is already waiting in the carriage you quickly climb in with Aerion and apologize to her only once you’re sat down. You completely ignore Daemon.

“Sorry,” you breathe out. “We can leave now.”

The carriage door closes behind Lucerys and both of your brothers squeeze in with you even if there’s more space in this moving carriage beside your mother, or quite literally on the same bench.

“Come on little prince,” Jacaerys says and reaches over to take Aerion from you.

Aerion frowns at him albeit and looks away.

“Oh, I see,” Jacaerys murmurs and hits his hands on his thighs. “He takes after his father then.”

You scoff and shake your head. “No,” you counter quickly and smile at your baby boy. “He just got woken up from his slumber. He’s just cranky, aren’t you? But after he gets his sleep then he’ll let you carry him.”

You lift Aerion to get him comfortable, but before you can cradle him in your arms, your mother interjects. “Give him here, I can put him to sleep.”

“Okay,” you whisper happily and hand her your baby.

You expect him to cry or try to reach out for you, but his eyes just water for a moment before he exhales deeply and gets comfortable in your mother's arms.

“He just didn’t like you,” Lucerys teases Jacaerys. “It’s a you thing.”

You snicker and both Lucerys and you nudge him.

“Sure,” Jacaerys grumbles and rolls his eyes. “Anyway!” He speaks louder and hits his thighs again. “Let’s change the subject to what I heard happen tonight.”

They heard Aemond and you making love?

Couldn’t be, they're not on the same floor—seven hells. Your balcony door was open though…

“I heard you punched Aegon.”

Oh, oh! Good. That was scary for a moment.

“Yes, she did,” Lucerys cuts in with excitement. “That ring of hers cut him.”

You begin to smirk. “He deserved it,” you say smugly. “But I can’t brag…he’s a weak fighter. You can even take him,” you playfully jab at Jacaerys.

Your brother shoots you a pointed look, and Lucerys snickers.

“How did you learn to hit like that?” Daemon interrupts, causing your amusement to flicker with annoyance and distaste—“the swing seemed practiced.”

“From lurking in the shadows like a creep,” Jacaerys blurts to try and get back at you.

You roll your eyes and push him away. You don’t want to answer, but your mother is here and she’s also waiting for your answer with Aerion falling asleep in her arms, so as to not upset her, you spare one glance at Daemon and respond.

“I learned when I was young…since I’m a Princess I wasn’t allowed to train like the boys, so,” you sigh and smirk at him. “I watched everything they did and taught myself to do it better.”

A proud smile tugs on your mother's lips, and even if you don’t want to notice, a smirk flashes on Daemon’s lips.

“Besides,” you add and grin brightly. “Ser Harwin always said that nothing is more powerful than a strong right hook. He taught me how to throw a punch.”

“We’ll see how good you are with a sword,” Jacaerys taunts you, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah,” you give in to his offer smugly. “We’ll see.”

——

*A DAY LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

Every day at King’s Landing can never measure up to moments like these with your family. You’ve missed it, all of the chaos and the comfortable atmosphere. Even if you have your differences with Daemon, his presence doesn’t bother you as much—you don’t let it bother you as much anyway.

At King’s Landing with Aemond’s family, it’s always so awkward, they’re never together as one. They spend breakfasts apart, dinners are hardly eaten together and there’s always some kind of uncomfortable tension. It’s why you just spend time alone with Aemond and Aerion, being with the Queen, her father, and the other kids is awkward. Besides, no one at King’s Landing besides Vanessa knows how to style your hair.

“Higher. Raise your blade higher!” Jacaerys scolds Lucerys.

“Mother,” you break your silence and look away from your brothers sparring to mindlessly watch the sand.

She hums in response, letting you continue.

“In our family history,” you pause and blink to glance over at Rhaena playing with Aerion. “Has there ever been Targaryen’s who may be…immune to fire?”

There has to be an answer for the impossible things you’ve noticed. A small mention in your history books.

“Hm, not that I can recall,” she responds and reaches down to pick up a golden cuff from your palm to put it on your hair. “We are known to tolerate heat more than an average person can, but no, there haven’t been any fire-immune Targaryen’s recorded. If there had been we would have known, right?”

Nothing but more questions.

“That’s right,” you agree softly and return your gaze to your brothers.

“Why?” She asks and leans closer to you. “Any particular reason?”

You debate telling her what you have been discovering about yourself lately, but you can’t tell her what you aren’t sure of yet, you'll sound mad without hard proof. What if you just have a higher tolerance than others who have come before you? You need to learn more before you can tell her or anyone else.

“Just curious,” you simply avoid the truth.

“Well you can always try the library,” she offers some aid as she reaches down to grab the last golden cuff from your palm before parting her lips again. “You can also ask Daemon those questions. He knows a lot more than I do. He spends a lot of time reading about our history.”

She’s attempting to have her husband and you bond again. She started this ridiculous mission when you climbed on the ship to come here.

And as thoughtful as her attempts are, she can wipe your father's blood off Daemon's hands, her attempts are futile, but you don’t want to discourage her yet so you just hum to keep her assured.

“Princess,” a different voice suddenly interjects, pulling the attention of all four of you seated on the sand—“A raven came to you from King’s Landing.”

The maester approaches your family and much to your surprise he comes to a stop beside you with the small scroll in his hands.

You immediately smile since you know exactly who it’s from, and quickly push yourself to your feet to gently take the scroll from his hand. “Thank you, Maester.” You tell him sweetly before sitting back down to read what Aemond wrote.

“My love, I write to you urgently to command you to return home at once.

Aemond.”

“Oh,” Baela says teasingly. “A raven from your beloved. What does he say? He beckons you home already?”

You blink repeatedly in confusion, finding his urgency concerning. Yet you don’t feel rushed to return home to him; you just arrived at Dragonstone and you told him two weeks. Besides, what if he’s just being difficult because of his indifferences with your family?

Tsk. He can wait.

“He just misses me,” you retort with a smile and roll the scroll back to tuck it in the bracelet cuff around your bicep. “He can stay missing me for the next two weeks.”

Baela snickers.

“I'm glad you can bring out something good from him,” your mother interjects. “Gods know how much Alicent poisons them.”

You mindlessly begin to fiddle with your ring around your finger and query. “You really think so?”

“Yes, I saw it, the way he looks at you. The eyes never lie.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft flattered smile and your heart skips a beat.

“You!” You hear Jacaerys exclaim, and when you lift your gaze you see that he’s pointing at you.

“Come spar against me,” he taunts you and lowers his arm. “You keep saying you’re good, but I have yet to see it. Your words mean nothing unless you show us.”

You share an amused look with Baela before you shrug nonchalantly. “I’m not so sure now. I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego in front of your betrothed. Just…believe me and leave it at that, dear brother.” You tease him lightheartedly as you cross your legs over the other and lean back on your hands.

“Then you’re not good,” he counters smugly, knowing how to lure you in. “Accept my challenge and show me you are this great swordsman and I will shut up about it. Or don’t and I will annoy you forever and you reign you a liar.”

You roll your head back to pretend that his plan didn’t work the way he wanted it to, and quip, “you already do annoy me. But,” you sigh and sit up. “Fine, only so you’ll shut up about it.”

You walk to your brother nonchalantly as if you're not excited to show your skill, or happy that he wasn't a stickler for stupid sexist rules. When you pass by Lucerys you motion him to give you his sparring sword.

“Be careful,” your little brother says over his shoulder.

“You won’t change?” Jacaerys points to your gown.

You shake your head. “Don’t need to. I can beat you with it on.”

You shoot him a smirk and choose to stand across from him on the sand. “I won’t go easy just so you know,” you let him know. “I will play by your training rules though just so you won’t get hurt.”

“As if,” he grumbles while he fixes his grip around his blade.

You roll your shoulders back and shift your feet in the way Aemond stands. You then narrow your gaze on your brother and wait for his first move.

Thankfully, he grows impatient right away so he comes charging at you right away. When he gets close he swings at your neck, but you duck and then spin around him quickly.

Jacaerys watches you get away and quickly tries to meet your next move before you can give it away, but you surprise him by clawing one hand on his shoulder and using your other hand to grip his arm to shove him down.

Right away rather than staying down and giving you a path to a quick feat, Jacaerys rapidly pushes himself up and thrusts his sword at your side, but you manage to block him and then use your leg to kick him back.

Jacaerys glances down at his throbbing chest and quickly finds you again to flash a bothered frown that he's holding back from showing his impressed smile. You on the other hand shoot him a smug grin to work him up.

And just like you thought, he can't stand your cocky smile, it offends him too much so he comes at you again, and swings down this time, but you avert his blade by turning to the side.

That swift move infuriates him more so he uses his anger to keep swinging, but you just keep swerving his swings.

“Fight back,” he growls.

You click your tongue and roll out, “fight better.”

This time, however, you actually do as he says and charge at him before swinging up. Jacaerys brings his sword over to block you, but at the last second, you trick him and end up spinning around him, managing to hit his arm harshly with your blade before you face his back.

Your brother hisses and grabs his arm, but doesn't stop from trying to attack. You don’t let him move though, instead, you kick him down to the sand and proceed to stride over to him to flip him around and point your sword at his throat.

“What do I win?” You ask proudly.

Jacaerys huffs out in annoyance and throws his sword aside, letting you do the same to offer him your hand.

“Come on, get up,” you offer without that teasing air in your voice.

Your brother sighs deeply in defeat and seems to hesitate, but he ends up taking your hand to let you help him back to his feet.

“You did good,” you compliment him seriously. “A lot better than six years ago that’s for sure.”

Jacaerys snatches his hand away from yours and glances behind you, you follow his line of gaze and catch Daemon is now watching, but you ignore him and focus on your mother's smile instead while she holds Aerion now.

“You…did good too,” Jacaerys redirects quietly as he scratches the back of his head.

You giggle and shove past him to pick up the sword from the ground.

“You did good, Princess,” Daemon interjects, interrupting the pleasurable moment you had been sharing with your family. “But you can do better.”

His footsteps hit the sandy surface and approach you. When he stops near you his shadow casts over you, and your anger breaks out of that little box you wanted to contain it in for the purpose of this trip to go well.

“I don’t need your help,” you snap at him and don’t fret to meet his gaze with a burning glare.

You would have snapped at him and called him a murderer, but you don’t have evidence and you still don’t want to ruin this trip, so you just clench your jaw and stab the sword in the sand before you shove past him and stomp over to your son.

Your mother calls out to you and tries to talk to you, but you just gently take Aerion from her since your anger is not directed at her.

“Come on baby, let’s get you inside,” you whisper to your baby boy and then storm away.

Your mother calls out to you desperately, but you ignore her, and instead of going inside as you said, you take a detour to the hill by the castle when you catch Astraea resting.

“<Hello, girl,>” you greet the dragon as you press your forehead against her jaw.

Astraea growls softly and leans against you, making you smile softly and that frustration melt away.

“Do you want to feel her?” You ask Aerion and then grab his little hand to press it against Astrea’s hard purple scales.

Aerion grins brightly and kicks his feet, he tries to laugh, but he can’t do so just yet so he just gapes like a fish.

“<Goodgirl.>” You praise your dragon in High Valyrian before approaching footsteps interrupt your peace and work to deteriorate all the joy had felt.

Albeit when you check who’s approaching you’re relieved to see it’s just your brothers, and ashamed to say you got worked up without looking at who it was.

“I won’t apologize,” you mutter, knowing that your mother probably sent them to address your previous dramatic scene. “I just need time.” You say and turn to drag yourself down to the ground beside your dragon's head.

“We aren’t here you tell you to apologize,” Jacaerys rebuttals as both he and Lucerys slow down to a stop before you and Aerion. “Nor do I think Daemon cares if you do.”

You turn Aerion around so he can face you, and begin making faces at him so he can smile.

“We've come to tell you that we understand,” Lucerys shares, making you blink repeatedly. “We understand your anger and distance.”

You keep a lighthearted expression for Aerion’s sake, but your voice tells your anger and sadness. “How can you do it? Look at him in the eye every day after what he did?” You can’t help but ask without even a little explanation, you were angry, but they’re also old now, they grasp things better, they understand a lot more than before, and they must suspect what you do.

“What did he do?” Lucerys asks innocently, but you don’t hold back for his sake.

“He killed father to marry mother.”

“Your father,” Jacaerys deadpans. “Laenor was only your father.”

You snap your head to the side and look at him with a pointed glare. “Does that matter? He still raised you, he was still there and Daemon took him away. So how can you do it? Because I can’t…look him in the eye without thinking of father, without wanting to kill him.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys share a brief look before they sit with you. They remain silent for a while, most likely trying to find what to say to try and ease the pain you express to them for the first time.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about that,” Jacaerys admits softly. “I don’t trust Daemon, but there’s nothing we can do about theories. We have no evidence, and he…makes mother happy.”

You sigh deeply and look down at Aerion watching you. “I know,” you whisper and look up at the sky to avoid crying. “I just have to suck it up. But…you don’t think I’m mad for holding that against him right?” You can't help but ask and look at both of your brothers and wait.

Lucerys meets your gaze and a variety of emotions run behind his eyes before he slowly shakes his head. “No, we—I understand why you’re angry, and it’s okay. You can be mad at him all you want.”

You hold his gaze before you share a soft admiring grin. “You've really grown up, huh?”

Lucerys scoffs softly. “It’s been six years,” he says timidly nonetheless.

You nod slowly in comprehension and glance down at Aerion with a soft smile before you glance at your brothers. “Thank you for coming up to talk to me, and trying to understand.”

Lucerys offers you a soft smile, and Jacaerys averts his gaze to interject. “We stand with you, sister. We need you to know that.” He goes quiet and slowly lowers his gaze to lock his eyes on you and finish. “On this matter, and all the others you may face.”

Lucerys nods in agreement, making your eyes fill with happy tears. “Thank you,” you mewl.

“Don’t cry,” Jacaerys mumbles uncomfortably.

You laugh and shake your head. “I won’t.”

You wipe away a stray tear and hide your face by looking down at Aerion putting a strand of your hair in his mouth. “Just let me enjoy this moment.”

At least now you know you don’t stand alone in the anger against Daemon.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

The difference between Jacaerys and Lucery's fighting style is that Lucerys is a bit too gentle and too slow, and Jacaerys is too angry and doesn’t try to be tactical. Jacaerys puts up a fight unlike Lucerys, who leaves himself too open. It’s why you find a way to shove his dominant hand before you raise your leg and kick him back on the sand.

“Lucerys,” you breathe out slowly.

Said boy groans and manages to hastily push himself up. “I know,” he grumbles in disappointment.

You walk over to him and grab his arm to help him to his feet. “You left yourself too open,” you point out the mistakes you caught. “Don’t think too much about it either, or else your enemy will get you a lot faster.”

Lucerys nods in comprehension and you can't stay too stoic, you offer him a small smile and pat his shoulder. “You did better this time though.” You assure him before you walk past him.

“You are speaking to him too gently,” Jacaerys scolds you as he takes your spot across Lucerys. “He won’t get any better that way.”

You spin around as you walk past him and shrug. “He won’t learn anything if you’re mean either,” you counter and plop yourself on the sand to watch Jacaerys spar against Lucerys now.

Once again Jacaerys is too aggressive, and Lucerys is too slow to catch up to his brother. It’s almost too hard to watch, you hate seeing Lucerys get hurt, but you watch for his sake so you can teach him his mistakes in ways Jacaerys is too impatient to do.

“What. Was. That?” Jacaerys spats as he shoves Lucerys to the ground.

“I'm sorry,” Lucerys grunts.

“You might go easier on him, my Prince,” an older Kingsguard knight interjects as he walks to your brothers. “So he can learn what you’re trying to teach.”

You hum in agreement.

“Your lady mother needs to see you!” The sound of your grandmother's voice carries out through the wind, stealing everyone’s attention and catching all of you by surprise. “The three of you!”

You had seen Meleys arrive not so long ago, but her armor wasn’t something you expected her to be wearing. Nor did you expect her to come see you all so soon. Should it be concerning?

“Is everything all right?” You ask your grandmother once you reach her under the cave.

Your grandmother Rhaenys lets out a deep sigh and points to where the castle is. “Go on, she needs you.”

That didn’t help anything whatsoever.

“All—”

“Have you received any news from your husband?” She cuts you off.

You blink in confusion and answer quietly. “No. Just a raven to demand me back home…why?”

She simply holds your gaze and answers nonchalantly. “I’m sure your mother will explain. Now go, all three of you.”

You share a concerned look with your brothers before you hurry into the castle and do as she says. Once inside you look out for anything suspicious, but Dragonstone is quiet as usual, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

That is true until you begin to approach your mother's chambers because as soon as you get close you hear grunts and cries of pain echoing out. When you make it inside her quarters you instantly freeze as you notice she’s in a birthing gown, bathed in sweat, and grabbing onto her waist to ease whatever pain she can.

“Mother?” Jacaerys calls out because you can’t muster even a breath.

“Fuck,” your mother groans.

The babe isn’t meant to come out yet.

“Princess,” Maester Gerardys calls out to your mother distracted by her pain.

When she slowly turns to face you and your brothers, you let out a shaky breath and climb down the stone stairs to fall by Jacaerys side and be under your mother's gaze as well.

“Your grandsire, King Viserys, has passed,” she announces with strain, making you gasp.

“V-Viserys?” Lucerys repeats in disbelief, whilst you try to progress the tragic news in silence.

Is that why—Aemond knew, didn't he? That’s why he wanted you home only a day after you left. He knew and he didn’t say a thing.

“The Greens have repudiated the succession,” your mother adds what was beginning to come across your mind. “And claimed the Iron Throne.”

The maester leaves hastily, and more grief piles on you, making it hard to breathe properly.

“Aegon has been crowned King.”

That drunk, rapist with no sense of any kind of responsibility?

“What is to be done about it?” Jacaerys asks what ran through your mind.

“Nothing yet,” your mother says.

“Where is Daemon?”

“I don’t know,” your mother's voice quivers. “Gone to madness.” She shakes her head. “Gone to plot his war.”

“Leave daemon with me,” Jacaerys cuts in and turns on his heels to storm off, taking Lucerys with him, while you stay there frozen to your spot, trying to wrap your mind around your grandfather's death and Aemond’s betrayal.

“Jace,” your mother calls out, but he doesn’t stop—“Jacaerys!”

You blink and slowly look at the entrance and watch him stop and turn to face your mother.

“Whatever claim remains to me,” she says through her pain. “You are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command.”

Jacaerys nods stiffly and lingers there for a few more seconds before he walks away to do as he had thrown out moments ago, and you…you look back at your mother and feel your heart sink. Whatever grief and anger you feel over the news, you shove that aside for now and rush to her side.

“I’m here,” you assure her as she begins grunting and crouching down. “I’m here.”

You grab her arm and hook it around your neck. “We should try sitting down, or lying,” you suggest.

Your mother shakes her head and clutches onto your shoulder as another wave of pain hits her.

What could you do to ease her pain? What can you do to make her feel more comfortable at this very moment? She cries and groans, she paces mindlessly trying to relieve herself of the pain, but the babe refuses to come out.

You’ve been through the pain of birth now, you know how much it hurts to have someone come out of your own body. You’ve also witnessed it after Lady Arra suffered through it for hours, but at this very moment, as your mother suffers through early labor, labor is still something you can’t comprehend, something you can’t find words for.

No matter how much you plead to let her ladies-in-waiting help her, she refuses. She refuses water and doesn't let you lay her down. All you can do is walk with her, hold her as she pushes, and hear her as the pain seems to become worse. She even calls out for Daemon, probably so he can comfort her, or so she can give him orders, but he never comes.

Not like that surprises you, not because of how you think he might be, but because he is a man. Men aren’t usually a part of the labor process, Cregan wasn’t there for Arra, and Aemond only came to you after you asked for him; you were so afraid you were going to die and Alicent refused to let your mother go to you, so all you wanted then was Aemond.

You can’t lie and say Cregan didn’t come to mind, he always had a way to comfort you with so much ease. He didn’t struggle like Aemond did, but you never let his name slip when you were on your birthing bed. And when Aemond was there you were grateful that he was and that he found it in himself to try as best as he could. So maybe that’s all you can do now too, try your best for your mother.

You rub her back and move her hair behind her shoulders so it isn’t bothering her. You let her squeeze your hand as hard as she wants and never let her go. There comes a point through her painful pushing that she finally lets you drag her down to the ground, but you can hear her cries are full of much more heightened pain, and the blood that stained the bottom half of her body becomes much more.

“Princess let us help you,” her handmaiden, Elinda pleads, but your mother doesn’t pay them any attention.

“Get out!” She bellows as she lifts her gown. “Get out!”

“Princess please.”

You slide your mother's arm off your body and crawl forward to help her, but she pushes away from you.

“Mother,” you beg between tears you try your hardest to fight away.

“Let us help you,” Elinda continues to press.

Your mother reaches out for your hand, and you quickly return to her side and let her clutch onto you as she screams sharply while she pushes out harder.

Now, however, with this push, blood pours out from her, surrounding your feet and staining the sheer white gown you put over your black training outfit. You want to help her pull the babe out, but she refuses your help and pulls out the baby herself with a long and painful cry.

The moment the baby girl comes out, that pain that riddled her body seems to ease, but the grief that hits her upon seeing the babe is probably worse than her pain.

The babe is so small, her bones are clearly prominent against her skin. There’s bumps you can’t identify poking out of her head, and her skin is…scaly, unlike anything you’ve seen on a human child; It looks like a dragon's skin. Yet throughout all that observation, you still search for a sign of life, you wait to see your baby sister's chest move…but her eyes never open, and a cry never fills the room.

It’s so deafeningly quiet now, your mother doesn’t cry anymore and the handmaidens don’t plead to help. And the baby, little Visenya is so still, so incredibly still. There’s nothing you can do now but be there and cradle your mother as she cradles Visenya’s body.

You don’t say anything, quiet tears stream out of your eyes—tears brought by your own grandfather's death, by the betrayal jabbing your heart, and by your sister's death before she could even take her own breath.

Even so, as paralyzed as you are, you find the strength to press a gentle kiss on the side of your mother's head and let her rest her head against yours as she sits there.

Who knows how much time passed before you moved, but even then your mind is moving too fast to grasp anything at all. It feels like you’re outside of your body just watching it move throughout the castle halls. And funny enough, the only person you want to comfort you is Aemond; the man who helped his brother usurp your mother's throne. You want him with you, hugging you and telling you that it will all be fine, you want him with you.

Flying home even crosses your mind, you want to run into his arms and let him hold you, you want to breathe in his charming scent, and tell him that you’re not really mad at him for what Aegon did, you know the influence his mother holds, and that poisoned him at a young age. You don’t blame him for Aegon’s coronation, you’re just upset that he didn’t say anything.

You still wouldn't side with the Greens though, not only because Aegon makes a terrible ruler, but because your mother is the true heir, your grandfather deemed it that way and never declared otherwise, his word is law and they broke it.

So much for following the rules.

Alas, Aemond can’t be here, and you can’t leave. Your mother needs you, and…if it’s a war that will break out then you want to fight for the right side.

So after a short bath and a change of clothes, you and your three brothers walk out and join your mother and Daemon for the funeral on a stony hill. Other people stand behind your mother and Daemon too; the other residents who live here, a couple of workers, your cousins of course, and your grandmother stands behind the crowd watching the pyre burn in silence

The moment is quiet, deafening so. You can even hear the flames from where you stand, the gentle breaths of your brothers near you, the waves lapping in the distance. After a while though, the sound of swords unsheathing breaks through the grieving silence. You break away from your stupor and see a knight of the Kingsguard who's not a part of the three that were already here walk up the hill.

“I mean no harm, brothers,” the man announces before he takes his helmet off.

Since you stand to the side it’s hard to identify who he is, so before your curiosity can kill you, you step forward and that’s when you see that it’s one of the twins; Ser Eryyk. He kneels before your mother and takes out…your grandfather's golden crown from his satchel.

“I swore to ward the Queen,” he doesn’t wait to proclaim loudly and with confidence. “With all my strength, and give my blood for hers….”

You gasp softly in disbelief, but you can’t help a proud smile from forming on your face.

It’s good that someone isn't afraid to break away from the man who calls himself King, that someone is loyal to your mother; the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“I shall take no wife,” Ser Eryyk continues to preach his oath. “Hold no lands…father no children. I shall guard her secrets…obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

You look at your mother and watch Daemon approach her with the crown. For once you watch him with pride and glee as he sits the golden crown over your mother's head before he kneels before her.

Your mother does seem a bit shocked that she’s getting crowned, but when it seems to pass you catch her eyes lift to the crowd as they start to kneel before her and declare their loyalty. Her eyes then find you and your brothers, and they proceed to bend the knee too. When her eyes then lock with yours, you shoot her a small proud smile before you lift your skirt and bend the knee before your Queen, making your choice between both sides clear to her and everyone else. She is your Queen from now and until the end.

——

*LATER*

There are words in high Valyrian that are often used in Velaryon funerals, “From the Sea we came, to Sea we shall return.”

You never really found deeper meaning behind those words, not even when your aunt Laena died. They were beautiful, and a part of your beliefs as a Velaryon, but they were words until your father was the one who returned to the Sea.

Now all you do is desperately look for him. He wasn’t put to rest in Dragonstone, he was put to rest in the sea around Driftmark, next to his sister, but he became one with the sea after death, he is everywhere the water touches, from here, to the coldest waters far North, beyond the tall wall.

Yet no matter how long you stand in the dark waters, all you feel is cold water hitting your legs and weighing your gown, you just feel the cold wet sand between your toes, and a sharp, unfriendly breeze sway you back. There’s no sign of your father's presence to comfort you when you need him the most.

Can't he see that you still love Aemond even if he betray your mother and in turn you? Doesn’t he know you lost a sister, and your mother got her throne usurped? Doesn’t he know you need him now?

Why can’t he be here to embrace you? Why can’t you feel his presence in this vast Sea? You ask yourself in your mind as if a response is given to your inner thoughts, your name is called out and travels over the sound of crashing waves.

You peer back and see your grandmother watching you with a hint of pity and also a bit of disbelief as she recalls his son within you.

“It’s cold, come out,” she urges and only takes a step forward so she won’t get wet.

You look back at the endless Sea, letting the breeze blow through your hair and over your face; drying the tears that roll down your cheeks. You hope to feel a sliver of your father's presence but…you’re left feeling empty, so you trudge out of the water and get met with hands on your shoulders.

“I miss him now more than ever,” you tell your grandmother with a quivering voice.

Your grandmother lets out a deep breath and nods gently as she moves her hands up to cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

“Me too,” she makes you feel less alone in your longing. “I’ll say that I see him in you all the time. And in your son. He’s still with us.”

You slowly meet her gaze and offer her a faint smile. Can you say you feel completely and totally comforted? No, nothing can ever heal the wound your father's loss left, but her words do bring you peace.

“Can I ask how you’re feeling? You must be torn,” your grandmother asks out of concern.

You sigh and shrug. “I know my side,” you confess that confidently, but you avert your gaze when it comes to bringing up Aemond. “But when I think about Aemond, my heart still races, and I'm still riddled with my love for him, but…I know where his loyalties lie and that he’ll never change and that confuses me because I want to be with him, but also support my mother…I don’t know what to do.”

Your grandmother caresses your cheeks and then slides her hands to cradle your shoulders and keep you facing her. “I could tell you to run back to his arms, I know love. I know you want to be a family for your son.” She nods softly but narrows his gaze to show determination. “But this strain right now will turn into war. You must think if you want to be locked inside a cage of their making, or be free here.”

You don’t want to be locked away, and you know…you can be certain that returning to Kings Landing will guarantee you a seat in a golden cage where Helaena sits because you can’t see Aegons council trusting you. Aemond would trust you after you took a moment to talk, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear, but he’s still no king. And you can’t see yourself soaring free unless he somehow takes control, or has a hand in controlling Aegon, otherwise they would most likely lock you away, and you can’t accept it. You won’t.

But Aemond…you want to see Aemond again…

“I see,” is all you can find yourself to tell your grandmother, and she doesn’t seem convinced but it can’t be easy coming to terms with your choice when there’s someone on the other side pulling you back.

“Let’s head inside the meeting should be starting soon, that’s why I came to fetch you,” she changes the subject so you wouldn’t be thinking about the subject a moment longer.

But you still have a lingering worry about Aemond so before you can walk inside the meeting room you share it with someone you know you can trust. “What if they demand Aerion’s return? Or worse they come and take him? He is Aemond’s son after all.”

She faces you with a smirk on her lips and she grabs your hands to reassure your concern. “They can try. They won’t reach my great-grandson, or you.”

You offer her an appreciative smile and walk inside reassured. You know she hasn’t faced war before, but she’s still fierce and a dragon rider you’d trust with your life.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Daemon announces while your mother enters the hall with four guards stiffly around her. “First of Her Name. Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

You bow your head after he finishes, like everyone else in the room.

“Your Grace.” Daemon addresses her.

You lift your head and watch her approach the table shaped like the Westeros map, but then see her come to a stop as Rhaena approaches her with a goblet. “Wine, my Queen.”

You see your mother hesitate before she takes the goblet from Rhaena. “Thank you, Rhaena. Come,” she points to the table.

When she passes by Baela, she motions her over as well, letting her fall right by your side while you stand by your mother when she reaches the table.

However, when your mother does reach the table she stands in silence, you look over at her out of curiosity, thinking that maybe she’s taking in the markers on the map, but her gaze is taking in everyone around the table first before she finally breaks the silence.

“What is our standing?” She asks.

“We have a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon shares confidently. “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest. Our army leaves a lot to be desired. I sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak for numbers.”

He speaks with so much ease, it honestly makes you feel some sort of confidence even if your numbers aren’t impressive.

He’d never hear that from you though. Tsk.

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton,” the Maester cuts in. “Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon.”

Not much.

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” your mother interjects as you watch Jacaerys place markers on your curtain allies. “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your fathers, Your Grace,” the Maester points out. “With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

Oh by Daemon’s acquiescence? Who gave him permission to do such matters? Your mother when she was in labor?

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed,” your mother argues. “He’ll need to be convinced of the strength of our position, and that we will support him should it come to war.”

You lift your gaze off the table and drag your eyes to Daemon, knowing her comment was directed at him.

“I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon volunteers himself and keeps his gaze on your mother. When you glance back at her she holds his gaze as if challenging him and arguing over what he did while she was abed.

“What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” Lord Darklyn asks, making you snap your attention to him at the mere reminder of Cregan.

Now Cregan is someone who would never betray his oath, he’s a Stark, and he’s simply Cregan; he’s loyal and you can swear by that.

And well he would also never go against you regardless of how things are between him and you currently.

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath,” Lord Bartimos defends Lord Stark. “And with House Stark, the North follows.”

You smirk faintly at the table and mindlessly watch the part of the map where Winterfell is marked.

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father's promises,” your mother inputs, causing a knight to put a marker over Winterfell, while Jacaerys puts one down too.

“What news from Driftmark?” Your mother asks your grandmother, turning everyone’s attention to her.

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” your grandmother simply says.

“To declare for his Queen,” Daemon assumes, boldly at that.

“The Velaryon fleet is my husband's yoke,” your grandmother counters. “He decides where they sail.”

You scoff smugly and pass a glare to Daemon before looking back at the table.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband's support,” your mother says. “Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There is no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet.”

She then turns and drifts the subject away to a different point. “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon says. “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

“Without the Lannisters, we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth.”

“No,” Daemon quickly agrees before ducking his head and continuing. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

“Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace,” a Lord cuts in, “but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

You pick up your gaze and remind the lord of your similarities with the Greens. “The Greens have dragons as well. Older dragons.”

“They have three adults,” Daemon keeps cutting in. “By my count. We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your daughter has Astraea, and your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes.”

Tyraxes? He’s a baby and too small, as well as Joffrey. He can’t possibly want little Joffrey fighting against three old and experienced dragons.

“Baela has Moondancer.”

“Daemon,” your mother argues. “None of our dragons have been to war.”

Without addressing that comment Daemon keeps going about more dragons. “There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmount, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” Your mother asks what you’re thinking.

“Dragonstone has 14 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmount.”

And what good will that do? Does he want his toddler sons and your infant son to control hatchlings? Tsk, please.

“Now,” Daemon continues as he grabs a marker. “We need a place to gather. A toehold large enough to house a sizable host.”

He places the marker down and without as much as counseling the Queen he shares his plan. “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons and we can have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

You swallow thickly and even if it’s absurd you still worry about Aemond.

“Your Grace,” Ser Eryyk interjects as he strides over. “A ship has been sighted offshore, a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

The Greens.

“Alert the watchtowers,” once again Daemon gives commands as if he’s King or hand of the Queen. He’s nothing but the simple Prince Consort—“sight the skies.” He takes his sword and storms out, leaving your mother behind.

“Mother,” you say and turn to face her.

“I’ll have Aerion brought in,” she tells you right away while she turns to face you. “I doubt there will be any sort of force, but we need to be assured and I will feel safe if you and Aerion stayed with Jacaerys and the guards.”

You sigh deeply and don’t feel unease until she leaves. Of course, only minutes later Vanessa is brought in with Aerion, but you only grow more worried. You do feel safe with Jacaerys, and you can protect yourself too…unless it’s against Aemond, but it’s doubtful he’ll make an appearance today.

You wait and watch the skies for Vhagar, from a nearby balcony, but as expected he doesn’t show. Your mother eventually returns and brings with her a list of commands given by Lord Otto, and amongst those demands is the immediate release of Aerion and you, as if you were captive here with your mother.

Ultimately though it is up to you, your mother gives you the choice to return to King’s Landing. But being loud and intrusive as he is, Daemon refuses to give you a choice, he finds no need for you to make a choice, or a “stupid choice.”. You’re needed here, he says.

But maybe he just wants to use you because he knows how important Aerion is to Aemond.

Your mother sees right through her husband but says nothing in that regard, at least not in public.

You could run away, you don’t want to be used by Daemon, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you. You can’t imagine it’s that hard to sneak out of Dragonstone. It’s true you don’t know the layout of this castle-like you know the Red Keep, but it can’t be hard.

But you don’t run away even if you’re tempted to go to Aemond. Not to join his side, but to talk to him about all this madness, to well…ease some sense into him.

But you don’t go. Eventually, morning rolls around and you sneak off for a short flight, but you still don’t leave, even if the sky is open and Astraea will do as you please.

“Again!” Jacaerys’ annoying and scolding hits your ears. “This is the third time Mother has sent me to come fetch you.”

You roll your eyes and spin on your heels to skip over and hook your arm around his to lead him to the castle. “Relax, brother, I was just walking and catching some air.”

“In the skies,” he spats. “You were flying on Astraea all morning. Mother told you to keep out of the skies. Have you even gone to see Lord Corlys? He’s here you know.”

You nod. “I know, but he was asleep. I was waiting until he woke up to visit him.”

“Well,” Jacaerys scoffs. “Now you have to wait until after the meeting. Mother is expecting you.”

You sigh. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“You said you wanted to be a part of this,” Jacaerys continues to use that stern voice on you. “Well be a part of it.”

When you enter that hall though you’re consumed by the chaos you just wanted a small escape from. Everyone is talking over one another, pacing around the table, and shouting ideas. It doesn’t come to a stop until Ser Erryk cuts them all off with a booming announcement. “The Lord of the Tides, Lord Corlys Velaryon…”

You lift your gaze and see your grandfather on top of the stairs with a cane and a bandage around his neck. It’s an odd sight seeing such a great man wounded, but it’s the reality of war. He’s lucky he even lived.

“…and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and begin to fiddle with the ring around your finger as you watch her, your grandfather, and your cousins trailing behind them, walk down the stairs so formally.

“My lords,” your grandfather greets the men around the table once he’s down the stairs.

“Lord Corlys,” your mother greets the Lord. “It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

“I’m very sorry about your father, Princess,” he says, “he was a good man.” He then turns and faces the painted table to look around at all the faces gathered. “Where is Daemon?” He asks.

“There were other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention,” your mother responds.

Your grandfather simply hums and passes your mother without as much as bowing, or addressing her as her proper title; Queen. He just walks past her as if she’s another one of the men.

“Your declared allies?” He points out to the few golden markers.

Your mother nods and approaches the table once more. “Yes.”

“Too few to win a war for the throne.”

Your mother spares him a quick glance before countering. “Well, we would also hope to have the support of houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

“Hope…” your grandfather cuts in. “Is the fool's ally.”

You stop fiddling with the ring and lock eyes with your mother before she returns her gaze to Lord Corlys and hardens it. “Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower,” your grandfather points out. “If I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys,” your mother redirects with some spite that makes you proud.

Said man stays quiet for a moment, he looks back at you, your brothers standing by you, and your cousins standing by their betrothed for a brief second before focusing back on your mother.

“Your father's realm…” your grandfather interjects loudly. “Was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand,” he makes clear as he proceeds to fix his stance. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. Your Grace.”

Finally.

You can’t help but share a small, faint smile at the sound of his words. Knowing the man he is, and how it’s rumored his son died, you didn’t think he’d bend the knee to your mother, but he did. Thank the gods.

“You honor me Lord Corlys,” your mother thanks him with a much softer look. “Princess Rhaenys,” she says behind her. “But,” she once again addresses the crowd. “As I said to my bannermen. I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war is first, stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

“You do not mean to act?” Your grandfather questions.

“Taking caution,” your mother clarifies. “Does not mean standing fast. I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.”

Your proud smile for your mother widens at the sound of her determination.

“The consequence of my…near demise in the Stepstones…is that we now control them,” your grandfather announces. “I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The tiarchy has been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we…further seal the Gullet.” Your grandfather points to the areas on the map. “We can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” Your grandmother volunteers herself, seeming to surprise your mother that she did not need to command her, that it was out of her free will.

“When we drain the Narrow Sea,” Lord Bartimos interjects. “We can surround King’s Landing. Lay siege to the Red Keep and force the Greens surrender.”

It’s easier said than done, isn’t it? Aemond has the biggest dragon who has seen and been a part of war. Aegon, you must admit, has a good bond with Sunfyre, and Daeron…well you don’t know him well, but his dragon can be as impressive. You’ll have to deal with them first.

“If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing,” your mother inputs. “We must secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm’s End.”

“I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace,” the maester assures her, albeit you aren’t convinced by that or sitting at home, and you know your brothers feel the same.

“No,” you break your silence, “we should bare those messages. In my five years at Winterfell, I grew to befriend Lord Stark, and become familiar with Winterfell, I’m sure I can speak to him and gain his support.”

“Besides,” Jacaerys stands tall and finishes your sentence. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Sure you said that you needed to leave Cregan alone, but this is war and he is a loyal man so if it’s sides he needs to choose, he might sway easier to yours if you speak to him.

“The Princess and the Prince are right,” your grandfather supports your suggestion, surprisingly enough. “Your Grace.”

Your mother holds your gaze and her eyes soften. She lingers in silence as she watches you and your brothers before she gives her answer. “Very well. Prince Jacaerys and the Princess will fly North...”

You and your brother share a brief proud look before focusing back.

You meant to go to Cregan by yourself, but Jacaerys might help calm your temptations.

“First to the Eyrie to see my mother's cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn,” your mother adds. “And then to Winterfell to treat Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these Lords of the oaths they swore. And,” your mother exhales. “The cost of breaking them.”

You smirk proudly and nod in agreement.

——

*LATER*

“We’ll just go on a small trip,” you tell baby Aerion. “Your uncle Jacaerys, you, and me.”

Aerion breathes out loudly and his blue eyes seem to search the room with a sad frown. He’s been…upset it seems today, he’s been crying more than usual, and squirming around in your arms. It frightened you at first but it then hit you, he misses Aemond. This is the longest he’s gone without being with him, and Aerion loves his father. He must be so confused as to why he hasn’t seen him, felt his warmth, or smelled his scent.

But as much as you want to cure your son's longing, he needs to wait a bit longer.

“We’ll see your father soon,” you assure Aerion. “I swear. After we return from Winterfell.”

Aerion simply blinks, making you smile at him. A silence once again fills the chambers, but it then is broken by the sound of your name coming from your mother at the entrance.

You turn around and face her with a smile. “Mother,” you greet. “I’m sorry I just came to pick up Aerion.”

Your mother blinks in confusion. “Pick up? Why ever so?”

You swallow thickly and sigh. “If the Greens find out I left him here all alone, I’m sure someone will come and take him. I can’t risk that.”

Your mother nods and then breaks away from the entrance to reach you and grab your hand. “My sweet, leave Aerion here, we will protect him. You won’t take long but with the way things are it’s too dangerous for him to accompany you.” She presses her reassurance as she cups your cheek and caresses it gently. “We swear it.”

You let out a deep breath and nod slowly before you look down at Aerion with sadness. “I’ll return to you, my boy. Soon, I promise.” You lean down and press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Aerion reaches out to grab your face, so you let him touch your cheeks.

You giggle and then can’t help but snuggle him against you. “Oh, I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Before you decide not to leave or sob you place him back in his cradle and walk out with a heavy heart.

For however long you’ll be gone is the longest you’ll be without Aerion since he was born. When he was first born even being apart from him for just a couple of minutes pained you, and now? You’ll be gone for days, you’ll probably die.

Yet the promise of seeing Cregan does excite you even if it shouldn’t. Even after the promise you made yourself.

How will he react when he sees you, you wonder? It hasn’t been long since you stopped writing to him, he probably hasn’t grown concerned as to why he hasn’t gotten a response from you, but will he know of your attempts?

You did write back with short sentences last time with attempts to stop yourself from talking to him, so will he know? Will he be upset?

Hopefully not.

Alas, before you could attempt leaving Dragonstone to be one mile closer to Cregan, your mother asks to speak to you and your brothers first before your departure.

“It’s been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men,” your mother says. “The Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms…we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers…not as warriors.” She shakes her head. “You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now, under the eyes of the Seven.”

Ser Eryyk brings forth the holy book of the Seven, and Lucerys has no hesitation to respect your mother's wishes. “I swear it,” he assures her.

Jacaerys and you hesitate, however. Only you don’t hesitate because of any objections to her demands, it’s just why those gods?

You don’t have faith in the New Gods, but if it’s what she wants. “I swear,” you assure your mother after Lucerys, leaving only Jacaerys left. He hesitates for a moment longer, but he then leans in and presses his hand on the book.

“I swear it.”

The book is then pulled away, letting your mother continue with the matter at hand. “Cregan Stark is,” she says, making your breath falter. “Closer to your age than to mine. I would hope that as men you can find some common interests. And well, as friends,” she shifts her attention to you. “You’d find no trouble.” She finishes and hands Jacaerys the messages.

“Yes, your Grace,” you assure her confidently.

Her attention then slowly drifts to Lucerys and her gaze softens at the obviously worried look on your little brother's face.

“Storm’s End is a short flight from here,” she assures him softly. “You have Baratheon blood from your grandmother Rhaenys. And…Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He’ll be honored to host a Prince of the Realm and his dragon.” She hands Lucerys the scroll and holds onto his hand a bit longer. “I expect you will receive a very warm welcome.”

Lucerys nods. “Yes, mother—y-your Grace.”

You share a teasing smile with Jacaerys at the sound of your brother's stammer. When he does return to your side though you caress his shoulder and assure his concerns.

“Go to it then,” your mother orders softly.

You offer her one last smile before you head to where your dragons await for all of you. However, before you can climb on Astraea’s back, you also assure Lucerys.

“Be careful, okay? We’ll see you after we return, hm?”

Lucerys glances at Jacaerys and then at you and nods softly.

You shoot him a grin and pat his shoulder.

“You be careful too,” he redirects.

You scoff softly and walk back to Astraea. “Always, baby brother,” you counter sweetly with one last glance at him.

Now when you turn to face your dragon you can’t help but fill with excitement to see Cregan again. You shouldn’t, but you can’t help it.

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