Oh Damn, She Just Saved Herself From Death😨

Oh damn, she just saved herself from death😨

Just so you guys know, or if you hadn’t figured it out…

Daemon is mc’s butterfly effect!! If she had managed to attack him he (unintentionally) would’ve been the cause of her death both in Helaena’s dream and in the Riverlands!

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fanfiction hotd house of the dragon moonlight fire and blood daemon targaryen helaena targaryen hotd fanfiction damn-stark house of the dragon fanfiction

Chapter 18 A little high, a little low

Chapter 18 of Moonlight

Chapter 18 A little high, a little low

A/N- Cregan would’ve danced with you

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, hunting, ANGST!!, FLUFF!!, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

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

Episode & or Chapters- 438-440 (kinda hopping around pages in the book for this chapter)

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*2 YEARS AGO. WINTERFELL*

Deep breath. Steady aim, and shoot!

The arrow shot from your bow whizzes between trees, and skids under hanging greenery that threatens to knock the wooden arrow down, but the speed carries the arrow toward a dark brown stag unaware of the threat hurling his way as it feeds on twigs on the ground.

Yet just as the arrow comes close to piercing the dark eye, the stag moves his head and the arrow instead crashes on a trunk behind it, causing the stag to go stiff and become wary of your looming threat with such an impressive survival instinct that he seems to find you hidden amongst the drooping branches.

His brown eye caught under the beams of sunlight reflects your menacing figure, study the way puffs of your breath are drawn in the chilly air, the way your eye closes before a soft glimmering sunbeam catches the color of your eye, and sends him running off for its life when he realizes you're after him.

“Damn it!” You hiss and quickly throw the bow around you before you run off after the stag in hopes you will win the bigger trophy and beat Lady Arra, and Cregan in your makeshift hunting game.

They do have the advantage of knowing the woods like the back of their hand, but thanks to Cregan bringing you to teach you how to hunt or escape where no one would see you, you do have some knowledge, but not enough compared to their years of experience. The only advantage you have is the fact that you found the stag first and that you have him in your sights.

No matter how tactical the stag is by prancing through the wild woods and avoiding obstacles with his sharp eyes, you are not far behind, and speed is not a problem; you’re fast because of the blood pumping through your veins and unsettling your heart. The snow on the ground does make things harder for your human vulnerability, but you try hard to run over the marked trail the stag is leaving behind while also shoving aside long and drooping branches. You barely miss large rocks the stag has no problem hopping over, but you are never far behind.

Actually, there comes a point where you get near the stag, causing you to be hit with a spark of courage that makes you yank the bow off your body and pull an arrow out of the satchel. When you sloppily align the arrow you slide down on your feet and let the arrow fly toward the stag.

Nevertheless, you miss your target and the stag decides to make a sharp turn.

“Great,” you grumble and return to your given height before you continue your hurried chase. When it comes to making the sharp turn you almost run into a large fallen-over trunk, but luckily your mind manages to work out a quick plan and makes you hop over the large trunk, letting you spot a frozen lake in the distance once your feet hit the ground.

Is that where the stag went? You look at the ground and see tracks directing down toward the frozen lake.

It could use the lake to its advantage, you won’t run over the ice without skates, but you can’t imagine he’d have an easy time either.

Still, you proceed to slow down in your pace and stalk after the stag with sharp eyes, and open ears to be wary of any sound that could lead you toward the stag you now lost sight of. You also slowly pull out another arrow in case you find it resting in one place.

However, in your silence where your footsteps quietly crunch through soft snow, a splash breaks through the air before a sharp cry from the stag follows suit, setting you after it at a much faster pace than the one you used before as if the helpless cry of your trophy broke away any sort of hostility you held for it.

And once you reach the edge of the small hill you see why the stag’s cries sound so broken and desperate, he fell through the ice and is barely managing to keep afloat with the large piece of ice pushing him down to the depths of the icy water.

Now you could shoot an arrow from here to put it out of its misery and let the lake claim the trophy for itself, however, his cries hit your heart and a small twinge spreads to full-on concern for its life.

“Cregan!” You call out, knowing he’ll hear your call in the silence of the forest and come in search of you thinking you're in peril, or you want to gloat. Either or, he won’t hesitate coming after you, nor will Arra hesitate to let your call bring her towards the lake, so with that in mind you slide down the hill and land on the bank.

The stag hears the sound of your feet hitting the earth and his eyes dart your way, but unlike the fear it felt before, now he finds solace in your presence and fills with desperation to be helped. And luckily, it didn’t fall too far into the lake so he’s easy to reach, but you can’t lift the piece of ice off him alone. You have to wait, and while you do you leave your bow and satchel on the ground to lose additional weight that could weigh you down when you walk on the ice.

Meanwhile, the stag keeps crying out whilst never losing sight of you as if calling out to you specifically.

“Just hold on buddy,” you whisper and wait and wait until finally Cregan appears out of the line of the forest.

“What?” He asks between heavy breaths. “You found it!”

You don’t match his enthusiasm and as you get closer to each other he finally sees the dullness in your eyes made by your own desperation.

“We have to help it,” you say and don’t actually surprise him, but his eyebrows still knit together as his eyes dart between the stag and you. “Come on, we can't let it drown.”

“The ice is thin,” he points out and stares at the helpless stag. “That’s why it fell, and we could fall in the same situation.”

You snap your gaze to the stag and when you do you lock eyes and that call for help only heightens, aching your heart that much further.

“But,” you argue and return your gaze to grab his arm and plead softer, knowing he has a hard time resisting you. “It could be quick, we just lift the piece of ice and let it crawl out.”

Cregan’s grey eyes fall on you with a heavy look, making your stomach knot.

“Darling,” he sighs.

“Cregan,” you mock him and press your pleading look that makes him draw out a deep breath. “We’re the reason it fell in the lake because we were after it, and now that his life is in danger why should we let the lake take him?”

Cregan parts his gaze from you and steals a glance at the drowning stag before he lifts his hands to pull off his sheath and then unclip his cloak, making you flash him a tender smile.

“Tread slowly,” he warns you. “And if the ice cracks under our feet we’re turning back and letting the lake swallow it up.”

You nod eagerly and then face the lake, before you can take a step on it though, Arra finally walks out of the forest and joins you.

“Look at that, you found it!” She mirrors Cregan’s initial excitement, and like him when she takes a closer look she’s left confused. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to help it,” you answer for Cregan and take your first step on the frozen lake. “Stay there, you’re with child, I don’t want to put you and the babe at risk.”

Arra scoffs. “Neither of you should put your lives at risk either. Stags getting caught in a frozen lake happens.”

You ignore her and slowly make your way toward the stag along with Cregan. Arra tries to follow regardless of her previous arguments, but the moment Cregan hears her foot hit the ice he whips his head back and presses strictly.

“Arra, stay there.”

You take a peek back and see her huff before she steps back on the bank of the lake. However, she doesn’t stay quietly. “Why not have your dragon melt the ice?”

You scoff in amusement. “Astraea’s blast is too wide. She will burn us all the moment she tries. If she had been smaller then it would work, but alas, she’s too big now.”

Arra hums and watches you and Cregan reach the stag with a nail in between her teeth.

“Careful,” Cregan warns you as he slowly makes his way across from you to hold the piece of ice from the other side. “Use your legs when you lift the ice.”

You meet his gaze and nod in comprehension before you look at the stag and speak to it like you speak to your dragon. “It’s okay, we’re gonna help you.”

Unlike your dragon, the stag has minimal understanding of your language so he keeps crying out sharply and squirming, splashing cold water over your legs, and making the piece of ice on him hard to grab, but you take a daring step toward the edge of the broken ice and reach out.

“Careful,” Cregan warns you again and this time you snap your gaze to him and shoot him an annoyed look.

“I know.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before he reaches out and grabs the ice cap. You slowly do the same and want to start lifting, but as the stag feels the cold cap brush over him he jolts, making the ice cap shift down under your grip, and causing the icy edge to cut through your glove and leave your palm exposed to the bitter surface.

Luckily, the edge didn’t cut your palm, but instead of sharp pain, you’re greeted with stinging pain as the cold ice bites at your skin. Not nips, bites. It’s fucking cold.

“Ready,” Cregan announces. “1. 2, 3!”

You both strain your muscles to lift the cap off the stag. It doesn’t manage to move up too far, but the stag finds some relief as some weight is lifted off him, and takes this to his advantage to try and push himself up shakily.

Albeit, since the ice is slippery and his feet are wet he slips in his attempts, making the stinging pain now burn your skin to the point your face twists with pain, and your breaths turn heavy.

“Are you okay?” Cregan asks as he’s quick to notice your breathing pick up.

You lie and nod before pressing your exposed palm harder on the ice to lift the cap just an inch higher, giving the stag more freedom to find a good grip, and finally yank himself out of the water.

Once he throws himself on the ice you let your side of the ice cap go and clench your hand in reaction to the burning pain torturing your palm. Cregan proceeds to drop his side of the cap and immediately focuses on you, whilst your gaze drifts to the stag walking out of the frozen lake. When he finally finds himself on solid ground he finds it himself to turn around and face you. Not Cregan making his way to you as you cradle your wounded hand, the stag looks at you.

His large brown eyes forget the panic he just felt, the fear he had for you just chasing him, and instead a twinkle glimmers in his eye as you alone are reflected in his eye. All while you are completely washed over with awe and relief that he’s standing there so perfectly calm. And before he disappears into the thickness of the forest he almost seems to bow his head.

You like to think that’s what he was doing before he left anyway.

“Let me see,” Cregan pulls you from your stupor, turning your attention away from the spot the stag left empty to find him before you now with his grey eyes worried over the wound that is now visible to him.

“It hurts,” you don’t hide your pain and groan as he brushes his thumb over the wound.

And rather than consoling you, the corner of Cregan’s lips tug to an amused smile before he looks at you and shares a much more charming smile with just his eyes.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble. “It hurts, and it’s red!”

“Come, Arra has bandages to treat your wound, Princess,” he teases and tries to grab your wrist to pull you off the ice with him, but you snatch your arm away and take a large step away from him, making him share a breathless chuckle that gets lost in the bitter wind.

The moment you’re back on stable ground Cregan grabs what he needs and takes you to the tree trunk that you had jumped over earlier ago. At first, you try to take your own torn glove off your hand, but he places his hand over it to stop you and instead pulls the glove off himself, finger by finger; ever so slowly as if trying not to add more pain to your throbbing hand, or as if trying to seduce you. Maybe both.

Either way, he’s careful with your hand, and when it comes to returning your gaze, he’s precise. After feeling your gaze burn into him as you watch every detail of his face rather than the glove he was pulling off, he looks back at you.

Albeit, you don’t hold his gaze, you beat down your skipping heart, and instead watch him dip his finger in some strong-smelling ointment. Not because you feel flustered, well you do feel flustered under his heavy gaze, but that’s not what makes you look away. You look away because your heart is racing madly and your five years are coming to an end soon, you’ll return to King’s Landing where you’ll marry your estranged uncle Aemond, who was once your best friend.

You can’t return home still getting hot when Cregan steals gentle touches, you can’t face Aemond when the mere thought of Cregan makes your heart pound like crazy. You perhaps don’t owe Aemond anything; he stopped returning your letters and made you feel alone for a long time, but you can’t think of another man when you’re with him, so that’s why you try to stop dwelling on these passionate interactions so they’ll sizzle to simple nostalgia when you return to King’s Landing.

Yet…fucking Cregan makes it hard. His silence is deafening, but there’s no need to speak what he feels when you look between your lashes and see his lips pulled to a faint sweet smile. He especially doesn’t need to say anything to make your heart skip a beat when you catch him stealing glances, or letting his gaze linger on the simple way your lashes kiss your skin when you blink.

You try not to give into his yearning, but your heart is hopeless and it moves your mouth before you have the chance to intervene. “What?” You probe and bat your lashes as if fanning the passionate flames, and meet his gaze.

Cregan parts his lips, but a single breath escapes before he focuses on his finger rubbing the ointment on your wound.

“Is it stupid that I was just burnt by ice?” You mutter and watch what he’s doing. “Out of all people, of course, it’s me.” You scoff and the corner of his lips tug a smirk.

“Was it stupid? No,” he assures you and lets his eyes flicker to you before he grabs the cloth bandages. “It happens. We’re in the North where it snows in the summer, ice burns are common, but is it amusing that it happened to you? Yes. Very much.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him away, making him share one of those rare chuckles.

“But I will say,” he continues and sways his body back to his previous spot. “It’s admirable that you chose to save that stag.”

Gods.

“You did not have to risk your life, stuff like that happens. It’s not nature, but you saved him anyway.”

You draw out a deep breath and fight hard with yourself to not look at him, to keep looking at your hand that he starts to wrap.

And you do manage to not give in to your most wanting desire, but your breaths grow heavy at the strain of your refusal, and your face burns hotter than the sun as you feel his eyes taking you in with hot desire and a need to express what his heart is bombarded with every single time he looks at you, and every time he sees you get flustered.

You know he's not one to hold back what he wants to say, you know him well, so as you feel his actions come to a halt, and feel his breath brushing over your cheek shudder, you warn him. “Don’t. Don't say it.”

A smile flickers on his lips as he’s left impressed by your senses, and regardless of what you told him he parts his lips to say something less daring but with the same meaning behind each word.

“Did you know, darling, that you…are like the morning and evening star?”

“That…” you trail off and let yourself look at his charming face that's decorated with a faint but smug smirk. “Is from my book.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugs. “But it applies doesn’t it?”

You can’t help but flash him a giddy smile before you look back at the wound that is getting covered.

“Will it scar?” You swiftly change the subject.

Cregan nods. “Aye, but it will not look terrible. Do not worry.”

You hum and now steal a longing glance at him as he’s looking down.

——

*NOW.*

It's gone. The ice scar that once marked your palm is now replaced by a new scar that's raw and red, and reminding you of the assassins who almost took your life and that of your children.

Instead of thinking of Cregan and the North when looking at the scar now, you’ll forever think of that traumatizing day.

“Who…hm,” you go quiet and shift your hand to play with the sunbeam cast on your scar, making it look more raw than it really is. “Who do you think sent those assassins?”

Aemond shifts his face down against your exposed back and groggily mumbles his response. “Well they entered through the secret tunnel, and Larys left with Aegon the same day those assassins tried killing you. Who else would it be?”

Even Aemond knows your own mother wouldn’t be capable of such a malicious act. You…well…deep down you know she would never be capable of it, but your anger keeps insisting she had something to do with it. But that’s all it is. Anger.

“He’s a traitor,” Aemond grumbles.

You close your hand and drop it back on the thin bed before finding comfort by cradling Aemond’s empty hand and pressing it against your chest.

“It feels weird,” you point out and take a glance at your bland new beige perimeters. “Not waking up to Aerion. I miss him.”

“We will not be gone long,” Aemond tries to assure you. “We’ll return to the Red Keep with Daemon’s head on a spike before he even notices that we’re gone.”

That doesn’t actually heal any longing you feel to be close to your son, but can any words really help?

No. No matter how long or how short you’re gone, nothing will ever help you miss Aerion any less. Especially after someone tried to kill him.

“I do not understand why you brought Ser Jason along though.”

And there it is, he ruined a sweet morning by finally getting his jealous complaint across after itching to talk about it since you left yesterday evening with Ser Jason to join Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne.

“<Did you go to sleep thinking of Ser Jason?>” You tease him in High Valyrian just in case the knight is outside the tent.

Aemond groans and pulls his hand away from your grasp before he peels his face away from your back, making you eagerly flip around to face him. “Is there something you wish to tell me, darling?”

Aemond pouts in annoyance and flips around to give you his back, so you quickly rebuttal by leaning over and looking at the side of his face with a teasing smile. “Do not pout,” you speak to him in a sweet voice as you reach for his chin and tilt his head your way.

Aemond’s eye flutters open and his gaze pierces on you, so you quickly reassure him. “” You mock his pout and press a light feathered kiss on his lips before you pull back, making him slowly turn back around to face you.

You take advantage of his attention, of the fact that no one has disrupted your quiet morning with calls to meetings, or beckoned his attention, and press your hand on his cheek with the gentlest touch to feel the warmth of his face on your palm. You then trail his cheekbone with the soft pad of your thumb before you slowly bring your thumb over to his nose and trail it over that aquiline nose you love so much.

Aemond’s breath shudders, and his gaze stops following your gentle touches as his gaze is now solely drawn to the depths of your soul that he can see through your eyes; whilst his pink lips move with a mind of their own as they mirror the faint smile that decorates your delicate features, as if your bliss was contagious.

“Perhaps,” you fill the silence and drift your thumb back to his cheek. “I do miss sharing our mornings alone,” you say above a whisper because he lay so close that you could practically share each other's breaths that your bodies expose. “When we weren’t needed at early war meetings. Before all this shit unfolded and it was just you and me. And Aerion in my belly.”

Aemond lets out a soft huff and his gaze flickers down to your lips. “You would sleep a lot then,” he brings up, brightening that smile that you held. “Perhaps that’s why it was calm.”

You giggle and his lips spread to a wider smile.

“Do you,” you see between laughs before you sigh and your lips twitch to a frown. “Do you think we’ll go back to those calm mornings?”

Aemond’s smile slowly falls and his gaze remains focused on your lips. You expect him to assure you in some way but his lashes flutter, even the ones over the sapphire, and then when he finally has the courage to meet your waiting gaze he lifts his hand and cups your cheek to press your forehead against his.

He doesn’t share his grim fate Helaena foresaw, he keeps denying it as a scare tactic for what he did to Aegon, so what would be the point of telling you something that won’t happen and only worry you?

That should mean that it should be easy to come up with words to comfort your yearning heart, but still, that fate leaves him unable to form any comforting words he badly wants to share. That’s why he just presses his forehead against yours; that’s his way of showing his comfort in ways his words can’t. And you don’t complain or question him, you lean in to his gentle touch and close your eyes to cherish your moment in the depths of your mind, making that ache tormenting your heart ease just enough for your smile to make a reappearance as you’re easily consumed with bliss and passion.

If only you could have more time to stay consumed by this sweet bliss on the thin and uncomfortable bed with him, but alas your presence is needed now more than ever that you’re in the encampment just days away from reaching Harrenhal. Besides, Aemond is proper, he doesn’t like being late, especially now that you’re surrounded by an army of men.

“If only I could have brought Vanessa,” you interject with hints of complaint as you slip on a silver fitted breastplate over a grey-purple gown. “Aemond,” you huff. “Could you help me?”

Aemond presses his foot in his boot before he walks over to replace your fingers with his on the buckles on the side, and captures your attention. He’s too focused on tightening the buckles to notice you though, but you watch him with a gaze that softens as you see how delicate he is with his movements, how his nostrils fall and rise with each breath, the way his small lashes fall with each blink, and the way he keeps trying to shrug away his hair.

Perhaps it’s the newfound attachment to him after all that happened a couple of days ago, but you can’t stop yourself from stealing longing looks to admire his mere presence; as if keeping your eyes away from him, and him from you for too long will somehow result in either of you being gone.

As to your heart in this newfound attachment? Well, your heart dances to a new beat every time you catch the smallest glimpse of him and he looks at you.

Like now for example, Aemond did not think you were looking, he was too focused to feel your gaze so he looks up and catches your eyes already him, causing your lips to spread to a tender smile, and making him slowly look back at what he’s doing with a timid smile; as if this is the very first time spending time together.

When he’s done with one side he goes to the other and does the same with the exact same amount of carefulness he used to secure the other buckles.

“I would help you with yours, alas,” you click your tongue, and his eye snaps to you.

“I’m not the one carrying children,” he retorts, making you scoff and let out a soft snicker.

“Like that matters,” you counter lightheartedly. “But…we already talked about this,” you breathe out heavily, and he scoffs as he drops his eye back to what he’s doing.

“Yet you will still find a way to comment on it,” he says because he knows you all too well.

“Only because I’m worried, my love,” you rebuttal and look at him with a pointed glare he doesn’t catch. “I…have lost enough. I need you. We need you.”

A small breath escapes his nose and you watch his eyebrows slowly furrow while a small storm of conflict seems to brew behind his eye.

You take that as him comprehending your concern but being too prideful to respond, so you then brush his long hair over his shoulder so it’s not in his way. He passes you a thankful hum in response and you can’t help but smile before you try to ease that furrowed brow with sweet words. “Thank you for helping me.”

He finishes what he’s doing and then looks over at you with a gentle half-smile that makes you lean in and slowly take him in for a lingering kiss.

Nevertheless, a voice then proceeds to cut through the moment, causing you to brush your lips over his as you drift your head to the side to look at the flaps that are meant to be your doors.

“My Prince, Princess, breakfast will be served in ten!”

Without waiting for a response their footsteps recede and the moment no longer returns to what it was since you’re then driven outside your tent not much later. You just finish getting ready and walk out to join Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne for breakfast before it’s time to gather for a much-anticipated war meeting.

These meetings, unlike the council meetings, are far more captivating. These meetings don’t threaten to lull you to sleep like the others do.

Yes; you did long to be a part of those small council meetings, but they still were a damn drag! However, you doubt one thing will change; that being this group of men not taking what you say under consideration.

You’ll have to wait and see if they do or don’t though.

“What come of the search parties for his Grace?” Ser Criston Cole directs at Aemond.

Aemond presses his palms on the top of your chair and leans over. “Nothing yet. We’ve checked the harbors, but no one spotted any suspicious boats leaving the docks. I scouted what I could on top of Vhagar, but I caught nothing.”

Not like he searched thoroughly or pressed critical urgency. And why should he? Aegon seemed to have left by will with Lord Larys. There was no sign of struggle, and Grand Maester Orwyle mentioned Lord Larys frequented Aegon a lot and grew interested in his healing process. Which is why the theory so far is that they left willingly together. As for the reason?

No one knows, and it’s not like Aemond cares all that much. He benefits with Aegon being gone, and the entirety of the RedKeep, and you can let out a sigh of relief without his stench or wandering fingers.

“If this had been a ransom we would have heard of it by now,” Aemond adds and moves away from behind you to start pacing around the table. “We all knew Aegon, he had no taste for ruling or responsibility, this perhaps is one of his whims. He will return when he’s out of coin.”

Ser Criston’s chest raises high before he drops it heavily as if holding back his argument over the fact that Aemond doesn't care as much as he should.

“Princess,” Ser Criston calls you out. “Has…Rhaenyra sent a word? We cannot rule out the fact that she may have snuck in the same way those assassins did both times.”

You clench your jaw and dart your eyes down to the marked map on the wooden table. “No,” you deadpan, and don’t even try to mention that you doubt it was her who took Aegon, ravens would have been sent already if she had, and this war would have turned a lot more bloody.

“What of Sunfyre?” You change the subject away from the sore subject. “If anyone can lead us to Aegon it’s him.”

“Still gravely wounded,” Ser Criston reports. “He has not moved since Aegon went missing.”

You hum and add, “well if he takes flight, have men follow his flight path. It could give us an indication of where his rider might be.”

Ser Criston Cole nods in comprehension without looking at Aemond for confirmation, probably so he wouldn’t hear any protests after Aemond’s lack of care.

“What of the Lannister forces on the western front?” Aemond changes the subject and stops on one side to take a look at the lion markers. “They reached the Red Fork?” He points to the lions.

“Yes,” Ser Gwayne says and slides markers to face the wooden lions. “But as predicted, the Lords of the Trident have gone out to meet them. Now the Western forces may have the advantage of numbers, but,” he sighs. “This the land of the Riverlords. They have the knowledge of their lands to their advantage.”

A nauseous wave hits you as the twins seem to start reacting to your breakfast, so you take a deep breath to try and clear the ache before you get up and stand on your feet instead.

“Hm,” Aemond hums and studies the map for a long time, letting Ser Criston Cole interject.

“We should wait and have Ser Jason come out triumphant before we head to attack Daemon and Harrenhal,” he suggests, making Aemond pick his gaze off the map to glare at him—“He has the numbers with the Riverlords taking arms under him. Whatever is left of the Western force will still give us more strength to challenge them without getting crushed.”

You glance at Aemond, and he looks over at you, but you kind of agree with Ser Criston. You don’t want to give Daemon the advantage, you want his pride crushed, along with his very soul, and you can’t do that if you lose, so you begin to wander around the table yourself and look at the map. Mainly you focus on the marker that represents Daemon.

“No,” Aemond argues. “We still hold the advantage with Astraea and Vhagar. We will move forward, whatever remains of the Western forces can join us in Harrenhal when they have won the fight.”

You glance at the south side of Harrenhal and cross your arms over your chest as you tilt your head to study the markerless spot.

“That would not be wise, nephew,” Ser Gwayne tries to argue against Aemond before Ser Criston can utter what he thinks. “It's best if we wait now so Ser Jason can go as planned and attack at the west to surround them. They would have heard about the battle at the Red Fork and would not suspect them to attack so soon. We can use that.”

“Perhaps,” Aemond retorts and moves down as if following your figure whilst Ser Gwayne begins to walk toward you. “But how much time before they send scouts and find Astraea and Vhagar? We came a day early so we could catch them by surprise, I will not waste it. We will attack as it was planned. At first light.”

A tension grows in the silence that Aemond’s stubborn persistence brought, but neither man in the tent dares to break it knowing how quick Aemond is to anger. And you, well your focus is set on the south side of Harrenhal.

There’s no markers there, or plans to move men towards there to attack on that side, so your attention focuses there and helps your mind brew an idea. An idea Ser Gwayne seems to pick up on.

“What is on your mind, Your Grace?” He probes as he steps closer to you, making you glance at his close proximity and then look over at Aemond since you know how he feels about his uncle, catching his gaze slowly grow ice cold and threatening.

Yet Ser Gwayne doesn’t seem to care or doesn’t have a clue, his eyes stay on you and try to unravel your growing thoughts, only infuriating Aemond even more. To the point, his jaw clenches tightly, and his nose flares as if he’s ready to pounce at the man.

You find it cute for once and tilt your head to the other side to catch his gaze and shoot him a faint taunting smirk before you share your thoughts. “What of the south side of the Harrenhal? I notice there’s no markers, or intention to have men attack from there. It leaves us vulnerable for any party of scouts to sneak through, or for men to surround us from there.”

“Hm,” Ser Gwayne is the first to interject. “Nice catch. Alas, we would have to go around the God’s Eye. That would add a two or one-day ride. More if it’s on foot.”

You drift your focus to Aemond and see his lips curled and his chest puffed out, and you can’t help but smile down at the table. In doing so, catching Ser Criston look between Aemond and Ser Gwayne in annoyance.

“Hm,” you hum and drop your arms back to your side to slowly throw them behind you and clasp your hands together before you start swinging them back and forth against your grey-purple cloak. “Then I will scout the south side on top of Astraea. Just for the afternoon, it’s cloudy and Astraea can easily hide amongst the cloud bank. No one will spot us.”

“That could give us an advantage—”

“No,” Aemond cuts Ser Criston off bluntly. “It’s too much of a risk for you and Astraea alone. Daemon could spot you and he would not hesitate meeting you in the sky. And Astraea is no match against Caraxes.”

You snap your eyes up to him and drop your arms to your sides with a thud.

“That's the point,” you’re quick to sneer through your teeth. “I am not going to be seen. I am just going to report on their numbers from a side they won’t suspect me to be in.”

Aemond shakes his head. “No. You will remain here with me until the day of the attack. I will not put your life at any unnecessary risk.”

Unnecessary risk?

There’s no such thing! You were almost killed in your own chambers! You’re here even if you know you’ll be at risk, being in this tent so close to Harrenhal is already a high risk, so what the hell does he really mean? Does he just want you to stay put until you attack? Do nothing but fiddle your thumbs and think of what your life has turned into?!

He’s supposed to respect your strength, your willingness to fight. He’s supposed to put faith in your wishes to fight, to be on that battlefield, and on Astraea the same way he’s on Vhagar. That’s why you’re here! That’s why you came because you had a purpose, a goal!

“No,” you counter bravely and all too easily get caught in a brewing storm of anger where fact nor logic actually pass through. “I will go scout on top of Astraea. What if I can catch something significant that can help us?”

Aemond presses his hands on the surface of the table and leans forward to snap back in frustration. “I said no. Argue all you want, the answer will remain the same.”

You challenge his gaze with a glare as you nod along in comprehension. When you see that he won’t budge you rip away from your spot and storm away with the intention to disobey him.

Aemond knows you well though, he saw the defiance growing in your eyes like a dark cloud and doesn’t care that the meeting is ongoing, he storms after you calling out your name, but you ignore him and continue striding toward Astraea in your growing storm he only worsens by following you.

And no matter how fast, or what twists and turns you make to try and lose him, he never loses track of you. He actually ends up finding a shortcut to cut you off in your path and finally capture you by your arms in a more secluded part of the forest where no men wander around.

“Let me go Aemond,” you bark and try to pull his hands off you, but he only tightens his old, making it hard for you to challenge his strength. “I will not just stay here and be your accessory in this war!” You’re quick to spat out as you’re blinded by your rageful storm. “You can’t just parade me around to flaunt me like you did when we were with my family! Because I saw you, I saw how you looked at them like I was some trophy to be won, but I am much more than that!” You remark and try to push him away, but he keeps reaffirming his grip so you’re just thrashing against his hold, like winds of a hurricane in a storm.

“I am capable too!” You throw out and push him, but he doesn’t let go, he presses you against a tree to keep you from fighting. “I am strong! I am brave! I can fight too!”

“I know! I know!” He exclaims over your rage, making you look at him with a trembling lip and teary eyes that are quick to release a stream of tears that come from the depths of your chest.

“Then?” Your voice quivers even if you don’t want it to, even if you try to fight the stupid tears. “Why do you want me to stay here when I can go out there and be useful?”

Aemond parts his lips but before he can form a word he catches you start to sob unwantedly, as if your heart had been broken all over again.

“I-I,” you stammer and slip your arms from his grasp to try and wipe away your tears. “I’m sorry. I do not know why I’m crying. Stupid,” you gasp as you weep again.

This time clouds in your mind begin to clear as a realization begins to penetrate through.

Since you learned the truth about your father, since your mother admitted the truth that day in Dragonstone, your sorrow comes and goes. You can go on thinking you can get over it, you can distract yourself with other matters, but then when you least expect it the sorrow, the need to cry out your heartache springs up on you. And other times you managed to calm down, but right now as you face Aemond after he rejected your offer you can’t seem to stop crying and thinking of one thing that leads to so much more agony.

“I know you’re all those things,” Aemond tries to explain to assure you, and so you know he doesn’t think any less of you. “I admire all of it, but my love,” he talks softly and grabs your shoulder to pull your eyes up. “With us being so close to Harrenhal, I can’t have you risking your life for a simple scouting mission. He could spot you and challenge you, and I would not be able to be there to help you.”

You shake your head. “I will not be caught,” you repeat yourself, and those tears don’t stop flowing. “We will not be caught, I swear. I assure you just…let me have a purpose,” you whimper. “I know what my brothers are. You know what they are and they do too, and even if they did not know their father long, even if they didn’t spend a lot of time together, he still loved them. And Daemon loves his children in his own way, and-and my father?” You cry and clutch onto your chest.

“I was not good enough for him to stay,” you reveal what’s tormenting you. “He left, and she lied to move on and have more children while I was gone, so where does that leave me? Why am I even here if he was going to leave to be with someone else? Why fight so hard to keep me alive to have me replaced? Why did they even have me if they didn’t even love me? At least before I knew the truth, my purpose was to prove I was worthy enough to my mother, I wanted to be a good daughter, or simply live,” you explain through tears, missing the pitiful look that takes over his face as your breakdown aches his own heart.

“And now?” You say between a sob. “I don't know why I was even born, I don’t know why I’m even here?!”

You fall to your knees before he can catch you and drop your head in your hands in an attempt to stop yourself from crying, but nothing can stop the stream from flowing, leaving Aemond unaware of what to say to console you.

What can he say to make your pain less? Wanting to be worthy in the eyes of someone to have them love you is something he knows, but your feelings go so much deeper than that, and for a while, he doesn’t know what to say.

At least not until his heart can’t stand seeing you hurt a moment longer. After that, he slowly goes on his knees and gently grabs your wrists to pull your hands away from your face so you have no choice but to look at him.

“You…are worth something to me. To our son,” he starts to mutter words that spring to mind. “You…are the best thing that happened to me. When we were kids you were the most important person to me, I would always look forward to spending time with you, hearing your stories, and sharing what we liked. And now?” He speaks softly. “Now you’re worth so much more. More than the air I breathe.”

You bat your eyes and sniffle as his words fill your weeping heart.

“I love you, Aerion loves you. You…” he trails off and smiles with a tender grace. “You mean something to me, and I’m sorry if I have done things to make you feel otherwise,” he admits and swallows thickly. “But you do. You mean something, and without you life would be a dull affair.”

Your lips twitch to a smile and when he catches that he moves his hands up to cup your face and wipe away your tears.

“I…” he trails off and pulls one hand away from your face to dig in his pocket. “I was going to give you this for your name day, but have it now.”

Your gaze lingers on him for a moment before you can’t help your curiosity and look down at his fisted hand, catching him right in time as he opens it and reveals a silver chain necklace with a small white-wooden siren hanging from it.

“I,” he scoffs timidly. “I started whittling it when you and your family left for Dragonstone, but I was never able to give it to you because you left.”

“You whittled it?” You croak and brush your fingers over the soft wooden siren.

“Having no dragon left me with a lot of time to spare,” he whispers and lets the chain fall so he can grab it between his thumb and pointer finger. “And more when you left.”

A smile trembles on your lips and your eyes scream the thousand I love you’s that you cannot express with words.

“Whenever you feel like you did now just…look at it and know you mean the whole damn world to me,” he whispers shyly with the kindest and most timid smile that he hides by leaning forward and hooking the necklace around you.

“<Thank you,>” you whisper in High Valyrian as you grab his arms before you slide your hands up to grab the sides of his neck. “<I'm sorry for being difficult.>”

Aemond pulls his head back to face you and strokes your chin before pressing his forehead against yours and whispering against your lips. “”

The corner of your lips spread to a sweet smile and you don’t hesitate to return those words with affection oozing in your voice. “”

He hums and leans in to press a gentle kiss on your lips, making you lead him to a much deeper kiss that’s fueled with a soft burning passion.

When you pull away he breaks the string of saliva that connected you by giving in. “You can go scout.”

You scoff and pull back to question him excitedly “Really?”

He groans and nods stiffly. “But if you see Caraxes out, or if you catch even a whiff of Daemon fly back. Don’t challenge him,” he presses harshly.

You start to grin and nod in comprehension. “I’m just scouting, that's all.”

He nods. “That’s all.”

You press a juicy kiss on his lips before you get up to your feet and rub your face as if that will get rid of your swollen eyes. Aemond stands up after you and grabs your arm before you can think of walking over to meet Astraea.

“Any sign of danger. Leave.” He presses.

You draw out a deep breath that comes out shaky after crying so hard and nod eagerly. “I know. I understand. I’ll be back soon.”

He cups your cheek and holds it for a lingering second before he drops his hand and lets you go. Before you can turn to leave you press a chaste kiss on his cheek and then go and join Astraea in some clearing where she and Vhagar keep each other company.

At first, when Vhagar sees you mounting Astraea she probably thought she was going to leave this wet forest, she seemed almost relieved, but when she didn’t catch her rider trailing behind you she threw herself back on the ground.

“<Sorry girl,>” you direct at Vhagar. “<But we will be leaving soon. Swear.>”

Vhagar lets out a loud huff that blows away the greenery before her, and you can’t help but laugh softly whilst you hook on your restraints.

Once you're secured, you command Astraea to ascend into the grey sky. And it's once you feel the cool breeze brushing over your face, offering you fresh and crisp air to breathe that the cruel aching weight that set over your chest completely blew away. This is why having Astraea, flying on her in the endless sky is something you will always love. You can’t imagine not having her by your side all of your life. Without her, you would not be able to ever find an escape when you’re at your lowest.

Sure you work out your problems on your own, and other people like Aemond also comfort you; they forbid you from getting lost in the dark, but there’s something that Astraea offers that no one else ever can, and that’s being able to find an escape where all that exists is her, you, the sky, the shining sun, and the twinkling stars.

If only you could wander the skies and explore the Riverlands without having to be on task, but alas there’s a duty that you do want to do, so once you approach Harrenhal, you sit up straight and lean the handles down to nudge Astraea down.

When your dragon leaves the cloud bank she hovers just below it in order to find a quick escape if you need it, while also trying to blend in with the thick clouds so you’re not easily spotted. You loosen your restraints, lift your feet off the footrests, and secure them in the footholders to be able to stand up and narrow your gaze like a hunting hawk to spot anything out of the ordinary in the green lands below.

At first, it all seems calm, there’s just a lot of fresh green plains, trees littered everywhere, and streams. It all honestly makes you believe that you’ll be able to return without anything to report, but then as you get closer to the grand dark castle in the distance, you spot lines of marching men leaving the grounds of Harrenhal. And from what you can see they’re all marching towards the direction of Blackwater rush, away from the army you’re with.

Does it mean Daemon is moving all the army toward your mother now? Or just some.

From what you can see before the trees block your sight, the numbers aren’t of high concern, so maybe it’s just some men going to Dragonstone?

You can’t fully circle the castle or you will most likely be caught. You can only scout the south side, so you can’t know for sure, the only thing you can do is count the heads that you do see now. You would try to follow the line, but the woods are too thick, you’d have to fly just above the treeline to see clearly and you can’t do that without being caught by someone keeping a watchful eye.

You’ll have to tell Ser Criston and Aemond to send a discreet scouting party on horse to know what’s really going on. As of now, you squint your gaze as you keep your head tilted down, and in doing so miss something that Astraea doesn’t. Your dragon immediately catches sight of something worthwhile and alerts you with a soft call, but you give her your attention first before you follow her line of sight and catch what she’s alerting you of; Daemon on top of Caraxes.

It’s…Daemon.

He’s on dragonback. He’s a few miles below you, he’s there…

The man who planned with your mother to send your father away. The one who schemed with your father to marry your mother. The man who sent you to Kings Landing for his own benefit is there just below; in shining dark grey armor, unaware of you or your dragon.

He’s there. Daemon.

Daemon is there. You see him, you're piercing your glare at him, and a raging storm of anger brews quickly and dangerously. You want to ignore it, not give it more fuel to ravage, you’re just here to scout not take action after all. Aemond told you not to act if you see Daemon, but he’s there in your eyeline! Alone! A man you hated for six years. Six years! All because you thought he killed your father—but it turned out he didn’t…but! He still schemed with your mother, he still lied too, and all to be her consort.

He’s careless and cruel. He’s given his daughters the cold shoulder, he killed baby Jaehaerys and hurt Helaena in the process. He used you and shoved you in the jaws of the enemy. You can’t just swallow all that anger, and you can’t forget it. You can’t ignore the boiling of your blood, you can’t stop your breath from growing heavier and heavier, and you can’t avoid the storm raging within you, blinding your judgment second by second until there’s not a single thought or instinct that keeps you from directing Astraea to torpedo toward Daemon and Caraxes.

And your dragon is obedient, she shares your anger, and her rage blinds her too, so she tilts down and tucks her wings at her sides to shoot toward Caraxes and Daemon at a quick and dangerous speed.

Neither man nor dragon spots you right away, they don’t hear your dragon as she penetrates through layers of the sky. You have the advantage, thus you grab your bow that you keep hooked on your saddle and pull out a single arrow you have tucked under the side of your seat for easy access.

When you align your arrow your blood thumps violently in your ears; thump, thump, thump. And with each thump, your rage only burns hotter, your jaw clenches, your lips curl to a scowl, and you bend your knees. With each thump, the only word that you see, that you hear is kill, kill, kill.

Shoot. And kill.

There’s no clearer than that thought. You have to, you need to get rid of him. Even if he finally tilts his head up as Astraea's shadow casts over him, you have to do it. You have to kill him.

Caraxes also proceeds to spot you and Astraea and lets out a shrieking roar to warn you away, but Astraea snaps back with a much louder and guttural roar, and you don’t drop your aim. You only pull the string back further and pierce your glare into Daemon, making your intention to him very clear.

Yet he doesn’t move, he doesn’t block his face with his hands protected with his shining armor. He doesn’t open his mouth to command Caraxes to move, his lips part in surprise because you’re going toward him, but he remains still and leaves the unprotected spot between his eyes a clear shot.

Yet as your menacing figure in his eyes reflects back to you, growing larger and larger the closer you get, that screaming need to let your arrow go is slowly diluted. Unlike when you shot that stag two years ago, this time the arrow doesn’t slip from your fingers. It doesn’t break through barriers of air to hit your target, you remain crouched over your saddle and watch Daemon with a trembling lip as one other person penetrates through the raging storm. Her very face disperses what clouded your instincts and your judgment, and it’s the mere thought of your mother that makes you lower your arrow.

And thus with no need to be told what to do, with the simple connection you share, Astraea swoops up hard before she can ram through Caraxes, and you lose sight of Daemon.

“Damn it,” you hiss and return your bow and arrow to where they were before you sit back down on your saddle. “Damn it! Damn it!” You bellow over and over again as you hit your saddle.

Tears cloud your eyes, and that built-up anger slowly seeps out, leaving your body trembling as if coming down from an adrenaline high that you did nothing with but build up.

However, even as tears do well in your eyes, they don't come out. You press your hand over your face and leave yourself in darkness for a moment before you rub your face and take a deep breath to have those tears go back where they came from.

Now there was no way to go back and scout so you head back to camp thinking of what you did not do, not with regret in your mind, but more so why the very thought of her made you not do it.

It runs in circles in your mind.

——

*LATER*

What should you tell Aemond and the others? The truth and send them after Daemon to foil his plans?

Do you stay quiet and let Daemon do whatever it is he’s doing?

Aemond did say not to pursue Daemon, but you did, and Daemon, and or anyone who witnessed what happened won’t keep quiet. Eventually, somehow, word will spread and he will find out, which will only make things bad, or worse.

Hm.

Then again…whatever plans Daemon has, why should you be the one to help him achieve them? You can’t hold in your anger for the sake of him or your mother. And the truth is you don’t think of your brother’s sakes, nor that of your cousins because the anger for your mother and Daemon clouds you. No matter what, everything goes back to them.

Thus you’ll tell Aemond and the others—Actually, it’s surprising that your overbearing husband hasn’t come to meet you the moment Astraea was spotted descending. He must be caught up with Ser Criston, or scheming a malicious plan. Whatever it is you approach the campgrounds alone with only the singing crickets spread around the forest keeping you company. And considering you are close to enemy lines you keep your eyes out for anyone suspicious hiding between the trees while you hum a sweet song.

That is until you hear some bushes rustling moments before a slow clap startles you and sends your hand reaching for a hidden dagger. Yet much to your surprise, the person who comes out from the bushes is Ser Gwayne.

“Ser,” you greet between heavy breaths and pull your hand away from your weapon. “You startled me.”

He raises his hands and a small apologetic smile grows on his face. “Forgive me I did not mean to. I heard you humming and I could not help myself.”

You glance around and do not notice any sign of tents or life besides the plants, the trees, and him all by his lonesome, so you grow insanely curious. “What brings you so far from Camp Ser? Keeping an eye out? Or has your nephew scolded you?”

Ser Gwayne chuckles and shakes his head as he meets you halfway before turning on his heels and walking by your side back to camp. “No, none of the sort. I came to find privacy and I could only find it this far.”

You nod and don’t care to poke around for more. That’s all the information you need.

“How was your scouting? Find anything worthwhile besides dull grey clouds?” He probes.

You can’t help the small amused smile that slips on your face before you summarize what you saw, so you don’t have to repeat yourself. “It was…eventful.”

“How so?” He probes.

You sigh and your lips form to a deep frown. “I caught an army of about sixty-five men marching away, and Prince Daemon on his dragon.”

Ser Gwayne’s eyes slide to you and he slows down in his pace to study you head to toe. You can feel his eyes examining you carefully before he pulls on the right damn thread. “Did you pursue the Prince?”

You fiddle with your rings and leave a short silence, but it’s still too long nevertheless for him not to figure out the truth.

“I was angry. I let my rage control my judgment,” you confess in the silence of the forest. “And do not worry yourself, Ser, I will tell Aemond.”

Ser Gwayne scoffs. “I was not going to run and tell now. If it was a secret then I would have kept it.”

You let your fingers slip from your grasp and slowly drift your gaze to the charming knight to pass him a softened look, and a faint smile before you drag out a deep breath and look ahead. “It is not a secret, but people would have run to Aemond and ran their mouths for some kind of praise or prize, so.” You shrug.

Ser Gwayne nods. “Yes, I know. Unfortunately, people like us cannot trust so easily. You think you have made an honest friend but the moment you turn your back they run off and spill your secrets so the world may know that they were in your presence. As if that would benefit their lives.”

You hum and he steals a glance at you before he continues running his mouth with something else. “Tell me why you felt such rage at the mere presence of Prince Daemon? Not that it’s not deserved, he has a quite distasteful reputation, but he is your stepfather, correct?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at the mere sound of those last words and quickly rebuttal as if reminding you of such a link offended you. “As if that has anything to do with anything,” you grumble and shake your head. “But if you must know…he,” you pause. You’re about to tell him the reason why you have hated him for six years of your life, but that’s not the truth anymore, is it?

He did not kill your father.

But the rage is still there. You can’t let it go.

“…what is there to like about Prince Daemon?” You avoid spilling out the entire list of why you hate the Rogue Prince. “And do not repeat that ever again. By law, he may be my stepfather, but he is nothing of the sort. He never will be.”

Ser Gwayne nods gently and doesn’t press or interject, he lets the silence grow between you until you can’t help but utter, “he’s cruel. And so was my father.”

That word is like bile in your mouth. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would view your father in a negative light. He was always a memory you cherished, now all those happy memories are tainted with anger and hate, making your words about him vile.

“Fathers are…difficult,” Ser Gwayne adds in a much softer tone than you’re used to hearing. His voice is always usually dripping with this cocky ego. “Is Aemond any good?”

“Aerion is only five months so we have yet to see, but so far…he’s good, attentive, and everything his own father was not,” you share with a growing smile. “As of late he has been distant, but this war effort takes a toll on everyone.”

“Well,” he sighs. “He will have a lifetime to do better, and I’m sure when the twins are born he will rejoice. He seems very fond of you. It’s rare to see.”

The corner of your lips tug a wider smile on your face and when you catch Ser Gwayne notice it you offer him a smaller smile, but one still from the heart.

A silence proceeds to fill between the two of you, but it’s in that silence that you hear loud celebratory commotion, singing, and cheering coming from camp.

“What are they celebrating?” You have to ask, turning Ser Gwaynes' attention away from you to focus on the spot of a campfire that you can now notice.

“From what I was told, it’s the name days of a few soldiers, so it seems they have made a bit of a ruckus and filled the air with terrible singing.”

You chuckle softly and he turns suddenly to look at you with his eyes widening.

“Why do you not share your talent? It will be good for morale support to have you seen amongst your men,” he suggests with growing excitement. “And well, your voice will bring our ears some relief.”

You part your lips to throw out an excuse, but in truth, you cannot think of a quick excuse to use to refuse him, so you gape like a fish out of water.

“That is if you really are the Siren of Driftmark,” he taunts you.

As you approach the campgrounds you see men gathered around a campfire, forgetting what tragedy lies beyond the treeline, and why they’re away from home in the first place. And you can't imagine this commotion must settle right with people like Ser Criston and Aemond, and the men must know that, but they do not seem to care. They’re completely unfazed and lost in the moment.

You want to forget too. And most of all…holding their approval and their praise is important. To you at least.

Aemond won't very much like you being caught in the middle of a group of drunk men, he especially won’t like seeing you so close to Ser Gwayne, but he can throw whatever tantrum he wants. He cannot control you, especially when it comes to something so mindless as laughing, singing, and sharing stories with men who are supposed to fight for him and his family. Besides, it all looks so fun! How can you just watch from a distance and long to join them when they’re in the safety of your camp?

You can tell Aemond and Ser Criston what you saw later, right now you want to be amongst the fun as well!

“Well,” you give in reluctantly. “I am good with a lute.”

A charming grin spreads on Ser Gwayne’s face. “There you go. That’s the spirit!” He exclaims.

You smile giddily and without a second thought you follow him towards the happy and drinking group of men who welcome Ser Gwayne with open arms, but when they see you they slowly all go quiet and murmur amongst themselves whilst they make sure Prince Aemond isn't lurking in the distance ready to attack them for even looking at you.

“Now, now, there’s no need to quiet down,” Ser Gwayne assures them. “The Princess is here to join in the celebrations and sing us a song or two. So everyone please welcome The Siren of Driftmark!”

There’s no timidness holding you back, no hesitation, or thought of Aemond disapproving, you offer them all a charming grin that makes them all start to clap, and slowly untense.

“Now this would be more fun if I could drink,” you interject to break the tension, “but alas I am with child, so you all will have to show me that you’re having fun.” You’re quick to turn on your charm as if you were born to perform in front of many. And as if enchanted by your words alone the once tense men start to ease and grow comfortable, welcoming you instead of just tolerating you.

“Now could I borrow that?” You point to the lute a young man is holding, and without question, he hands it to you. “The rest of you,” you direct at the other men with the other instruments. “You will know this song, so just follow me.”

They nod, and without any concern of judgment, you twirl back to stand in the middle of the gathered group. “This song here is one of my favorites, I learned it from a famous pirate my grandfather knew. You all better dance and sing along!”

A hoot sounds from the crowd, and without further delay you slowly start to strum the strings on the lute before you quietly start the song at first, to lure them all in. When the other men start playing their instruments around you, you pick up the speed on the lute and stop singing just for a moment.

After picking up the beat on the strings you start singing again along to the beat, and with a great joy that makes your once dull eyes glimmer.

The men around you are quickly and deeply charmed with your singing, with your enthusiasm, and your beaming joy that they don’t hesitate to stomp their feet and clap their hands along to the song, forgetting the tension and bursting out with even more excitement than before. All because of you.

And it's because of you that the heightened commotion doesn’t go unnoticed. It has all become much grander because you’re amongst the men, so Ser Criston and Aemond walk out of the tent to silence the men and end their feast. Albeit when Aemond catches you in the middle of the crowd, fueling the men’s excitement with your song he slows down in his raging storm and makes Ser Criston hesitate snuffing out the celebration.

Does that mean he didn’t want to stop you? No. He sees all the men drunk, or drinking around you, and right away he wants to storm over there and yank you away, tell them all to stay away, and threaten them. He wants to put a stop to all the commotion, but…as bothered as he is he does notice your beaming grin, he sees how happy you are and how can he be the one to diminish that?

Sure his stomach is twisting with jealousy because he hates that his uncle is near you, celebrating, and only egging you on, but he doesn't ruin your fun, he actually trusts his uncle more than Ser Jason in the back of the group smiling like some enchanted idiot. Aemond does approach the group but doesn’t join the commotion, not even if his uncle is not leaving your side in the group of men that only grows. Aemond just stands close enough that he has a clear view of you in case someone’s hands wander where they’re not supposed to.

He actually thought you wouldn’t notice him, but you do, you find him there behind the sea of people as if he was the bright moon amongst the dark canvas of the night sky, and nothing in the world proceeds to matter but him and you. It all disappears, leaving only two souls dancing in your plane; his and yours.

Nothing shines brighter than him and you; except maybe that smile in your eyes that only shines for him. It shines so bright in fact that the giant shining star in the sky would be envious. While the smile on your face is backed with so much joy, and your voice is so charming, that you're able to tug the faintest smile on Aemond’s hardened features.

It’s faint, but you see it. You’re the only one he lets see. And you cherish it, your heart actually swoons because he’s outside watching you. You would have liked it better if he would dance with you, but you take what you can get and store his lovely appearance and his faint smile in the chambers of your heart.

And much to your surprise, Aemond continues watching over you. He doesn’t interfere as an older soldier pulls you to dance as the music continues. He watches over you as you completely infatuate the soldiers to your side with your voice and the fact that you’re spending time with them, proving to him why people flock to you, why they remember you; like that man from the Night's Watch.

He likes that about you, he likes that people are not scared of you, that you are so easygoing with them and you have their respect, but at the same time he also doesn’t like it. He wants you to be at the bottom with him.

Nevertheless, as those thoughts swirl in his head he continues watching over you, he would continue watching you until you grew tired and withdrew from the commotion, but from the heart of the crowd, you notice Ser Criston pull him away.

You know that nothing would have pulled Aemond away from his “guard duty” if it wasn’t significant. He would have stayed against the tree until you left the crowd, but he’s pulled away and you can’t help your curiosity. Even if you’re high by all the excitement, you manage to find an escape and follow Aemond to the tent Ser Criston took him to.

However, just as you’re going to follow him in to be a part of the significant conversation, what comes out of Ser Criston’s mouth stops you right behind the entrance, turning you into that spy you once were when you worked for your mother.

“We just received word from Ser Tyland. He and the Triarchy have hit Driftmark, setting fire to the harbor of Spicetown, and ships sent out to counter them.”

Your lips part in surprise. Regardless, if your grandfather plans to have one of his bastards be heir over your own son, Driftmark is still your home, and hearing that pirates and low-life sailors have begun to sack Driftmark is upsetting.

“What about it?” Aemond remarks with sass. “It's what they should do.”

Ser Criston clears his throat and then adds what he really wants to share. “Scouts have spotted a small cog ship sailing from the Eerie, and right directly toward the Triarchy fleet. It’s said that the Cog, the Gay Abandonment, carries Prince Viserys, Prince Aegon, Prince Joffrey, and Lady Rhaena. The sons of Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon.”

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sound of that news. No matter your feelings towards your mother and Daemon, your brothers are not between that. None of them.

“Have Ser Tyland and the fleet doing something worthwhile and capture the cog,” you hear Aemond suggest, making your breath catch. “But do not injure any of them. They will be priceless hostages.”

You back away until you’re completely covered by the shadows of the night and let out a shaky breath as you go over what you just heard, as you begin to realize that you cannot for any reason let Ser Tyland or his fleet of pirates take your brothers and Rhaena. You can’t just hear what you did and willingly let anyone take them captive. No matter your resentment, and no matter the rage that has you giving your back to your mother.

Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey are still your brothers, and Rhaena is your cousin.

You can’t—

You know what you must do. Aemond won't like it, he would forbid you from going if you asked considering he already didn’t want to let you scout, but he can’t stop you if he doesn’t know you left until you’re gone. Besides, you’ll return, you can’t just sit here and let anyone take your brothers and Rhaena captive, and if you send a letter it might be too late. You have to go yourself.

Thus before Aemond could walk out and catch you, you rush to your shared tent and hurryingly rip off the breastplate you had been wearing to quickly just throw on different armor; one that’s not bulky but lighter, and slimmer in design so it’s a more feminine fit, like the way you saw Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror wear in books.

The gown under the armor is no longer your grey-purple gown. You changed it to a very pale grey that almost blends with the new silver armor, but it stands out since it flows over your legs, covering the shining silver greaves over the bottom half of your legs.

The pauldrons on your shoulders are shaped like dragon scales, much like the one you wore just moments ago, and beneath it lies a fringe of forged silver dragon wings. You stay away from wearing gauntlets and anything on your arms, besides leathered armguards, showing off the beautiful embroidered sleeves of your gown instead. When it comes to your head and face, you leave out the helmet because you never had one made in the first place, instead you opt for a thin chainmail headpiece that connects with an intricate veil of dagger-like chains, and a delicate but protective silver chain mask caging over your mouth.

Albeit none of what you’re wearing can be seen by any pair of eyes just yet. Even if a lot of the men are drunk or tipsy, some aren’t and others will still share what they saw no matter how intoxicated they are, so you throw a dark crimson-colored cloak over your cape, covering the dragon scale bodice that protects your chest and the twins growing inside you, and blends you with the shadows of the night.

Yet before you can rush out of the tent you snatch more arrows from your trunk, and then just before you're going to open the flaps, you spot Blackfyre, the Valyrian steel sword resting against a wooden pillar, and debate taking it, but not for long.

With a faint smirk tugging on your lips, you snatch the Valyrian steel sword, Blackfyre, and sneak out to your dragon Astraea to leave toward the Gullet in the cover of night.

A/N- Daeron and you would have been the bestest of friends with the lute and singing.

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

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fanfiction house of the dragon moonlight damn-stark

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mep3rd0nas

8 months ago

I’m not ready for this one 😭😭😭

Chapter 19 My tears are blood

Chapter 19 of Moonlight

A/N- Daemon would be so proud of you

Warning- Swearing, fishing, ANGST!!, violence, blood and death!!, some fluff, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

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

Episode/Chapters- 434-438

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Black dense smoke is all you see. If you weren’t flying it would look like the sky was suddenly overcome by an intoxicating darkness, but you’re on top of your dragon and it's clear that all that pollutes the sky is black smoke rising off sinking or burning ships. It burns your eyes and brings them to tears, but it’s hard to rub the stinging away. It infiltrates your nose and burns your nostrils, making you want to stop breathing as you fly closer and closer to the Gullet.

But you can’t stop breathing and you can’t stop flying forward. You should, part of the Velaryon fleet is set ablaze or is nothing but polluting debris in the water, while what survived of the Triarchy fleet is fleeing from not only four dragons roaming the skies, but five, and one of them is not Syrax, it’s a small and ugly colored dragon; meaning the battle is over, you got here too late.

Yet how can you fathom leaving when you know nothing of your brothers or Rhaena? Surely if they were rescued most of the dragonriders would have returned to Dragonstone, but they’re all still chasing the Triarchy. All except Vermax and Jacaerys, where are they?

Maybe he took them back to Dragonstone? You can’t imagine he would let your mother keep him in Dragonstone while the others are fighting, so he must have saved them and taken them home.

Yes, that's it. Your mind fixates on that thought while your heart is reassured by it, letting you drive your focus to the small ugly dragon in the distance—You never saw it at Dragonstone while you were there, and the muddy brown and pink spots don’t trigger any memory of its mention, so it must be wild, but…why is it fighting?

“<Let's get closer to that brown dragon,>” you tell Astraea as you feel a bit starstruck by the wild dragon in the midst of battle. The rider must be someone truly incredible to have claimed a wild dragon.

You want to see who it is! Plus while you’re answering your curiosity you can catch Baela’s attention and have her assure you that your brothers and Rhaena were rescued. You can’t leave without knowing. You were eager to fight, the whole flight here all that occupied your mind was ways you could and would fight, but alas you were too late.

Nevertheless, as Astraea reaches the sea and flies over the polluted water, there past a thick cloud of black smoke is a Myrish ship with two men standing at the edge of the starboard yelling and shooting two arrows at something in the water. You follow their aim and the first thing you see floating in the murky body of water is Vermax…

You see part of his green wing entangled by chains, while his head poked out of the water. Yet even then he doesn’t thrash or scream, his eyes are rolled back and his neck is slowly being weighed down by a broken ship's mast. You search for the saddle to see if Jacaerys is caught, but that part of Vermax is sunken in the water, you can’t see your brother. He’s not on his dragon.

“Astraea,” you whimper, but she saw what you did; she sees Vermax sinking and flies low while she cries out in sorrow.

“Jacaerys!” You cry out even though you know your shout isn’t loud enough to be heard from the top of your dragon, not while the commotion of distant fire blasts and blood-curdling screams filter the polluted air. Yet you still call out desperately. “Jacaerys!”

When you approach Vermax, you pull off your restraints and shove your feet in the saddle's stirrups to crouch over the seat, while more men on the Myrish ship approach the starboard and aim their crossbows at something in front of Vermax’s head. Something you can’t see, but it’s still something that catches your breath, causing Astraea to react by picking up her speed just by a little, but enough for you to finally catch what it is that the men are pointing at; it’s…Jacaerys with an arrow in his chest and one in his stomach.

“Jacaerys!” You bellow out in panic and concern.

Said man manages to hear the sound of his name coming from your lips and begins to move his head, while the men in the distance get ready to shoot their crossbows thinking that the purple dragon is on their side and here to fight, but alas they’re proven wrong the moment you sneer out a single command. “Dracarys!”

Astraea opens her mouth and blasts out blazing fire, burning away the threat with a single cloud of fire, but alas, a moment too late. You were too late, Jacaerys was still hit.

“Jacaerys!” You cry out to let him know you’re here even if he already sees you approaching. “Just…hold on.”

A part of you wants to jump off your dragon, but you also know that won’t bode well for neither you or Jacaerys, so instead you trust your dragon to carefully grab onto Jacaerys with her claws to fly him to stable ground where you can help him. After all, the other dragonriders are taking care of the enemy fleet so you can help him. You can save him, it can’t be too late.

It can’t be too late. You couldn’t have gotten here too late.

You can save him. You can save him, you can. Yes, you can.

“It’s going to be okay,” your voice quivers, but you don’t cry, because you keep repeating to yourself that he’ll be okay. That makes you ignorant of the truth. It numbs you and makes you desperate.

That's why after Astraea puts Jacaerys down, you don’t wait for her to land. You frantically hop off your saddle with an ignorance pumping your blood that makes you sprint over to Jacaerys and throw yourself on your knees by his body.

“<I’m here,” you say breathlessly in High Valyrian. “I’m here.>”

You rip off the mask caging your face and tear away the headpiece off your head so he can see you. So he can be assured that it's really you.

“I’m here,” you whisper and press your hands over one of his bloody ones that he has pressed on the bleeding wound on his chest.

“You’re…here,” he strains to say between raspy and heavy breaths. “I thought Aemond wouldn’t let you come.”

You muster a strained laugh and shake your head. “He cannot tell me what to do. I came here to help our brothers.”

Jacaerys nods. “Mother was right…I was angry at you but she was right,” he mutters.

You glance at the arrows and know that you can’t pull them out. You know that much, so you just need help. You need a healer.

You look around for one. Maybe one rushed up ashore.

But all that you see is Astraea curling up around you and Jacaerys to protect you from any potential threat.

“Tell her…”

“Stop,” you snap at him and face him again. “Don’t, you will tell her yourself. You will.” You nod and move one hand off his chest to cup his face. “You have to hold on. Please Jace, please, please don’t leave me.”

His eyes water now, he can’t hold his tears back. “It…hurts,” he gasps for air and hisses as the arrows dig deeper into his flesh. “It hurts,” he lets you hear his vulnerability. He doesn’t hide his pain like he usually would so you wouldn’t worry, he’s honest and that makes your heart ache.

“I know,” you nod. “I know, but I cannot pull them out or they will bleed out more. Just hold on…” you trail off and look out desperately. “I need help! Please!”

“Listen to me,” he beckons your attention and uses his other hand to put it on top of yours. “Listen to me. Tell Mother I tried, okay? I really tried. And I’m sorry I let her down.”

Tears well in your eyes as your lips tremble.

“You did not let her down,” you try to assure him and stroke his cheek. “You didn’t. Just please, Jace,” you beg him. “Please hold on, we’re going home soon, okay? Me and you, I won’t leave again, just please hold on.”

Jacaerys nods weakly and tears of his own start to crawl out of his eyes.

“You know,” he heaves. “I-I..love you right?”

Agony starts to tear at your heart, but you keep trying to repeat the same words to yourself, “he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”

“I love you too,” you whisper and lean closer to him.

“It hurts,” he mutters again and his breathing turns more shallow indicating what’s to come, and pushing a part of you to speak mindlessly.

“We will meet again. Did you know that?”

The part of you that senses his end doesn’t let a word go unspoken. That part of you doesn’t let Jacaerys go without having him hear what you have to say; a last goodbye that you never got to share with Lucerys.

“I know,” he agrees with a tiny and pained smile tugging on his pale face. “I know.”

“I will look for you and Luke in every lifetime because, to me, you and him are the best brothers someone could have,” you speak sweetly as you stroke his face. “And I’m sorry for how I've acted lately, I’m sorry if you’ve felt alone, I really am.”

“It’s…okay,” he assures you and lifts his other hand to cup the one you have on his face. “You’re…here now.”

You nod softly and offer him a quivering smile. “We’ll meet again where the sea meets the edge of tomorrow.”

Jacaerys nods gently and holds your gaze as the corner of his lips attempts to pull on a wider smile.

Yet in his strained attempt, his eyes begin to dull, his hands that cup yours slowly go limp, and his lips slowly fall as a last breath escapes his lips, leaving him lifeless on the ground.

“Jace?” You cry out with ignorance to the truth even if it lies before you. “Jacaerys?”

His gaze once gleaming with tears is dull and lifeless. His shallow breaths don’t run anymore, he’s silent, deafening so, which only means one thing, but still, you can’t accept it. You can’t accept that you got to the Gullet too late to save your brother, so that part of you that once accepted the truth completely vanishes, leaving you trying to desperately get your brother to react; to take one more breath and live so he can hold on.

“Jacaerys?” You whimper and try to stroke his cheek. “Please, please, please. Don’t do this to me, please don’t leave me…we have to go home. Please let’s go home.” You come to a halt and wait for a reaction, just a single blink, but alas, he remains motionless, edging you to accept the truth, but not actually accept it yet. You first move your hand away from his face and shake him by the arm and chest.

“Jace! Jacaerys!” You cry out. “Jace?!”

Once again you wait, wait, and wait, but he doesn’t react in any way. He doesn’t blink and his chest doesn’t move. He’s there bleeding out and lifeless. He’s not breathing anymore, and his heart is no longer beating, no matter how many times you check not even a soft and weak ba-dum beats. He’s…lifeless. He’s gone, your brother, your little brother is gone, he’s…dead. And with him, the last fragments of your heart burn away and turn to nothing but ash that gets blown away here, where he died.

That’s why no heartbreaking sobs leave your lips. You don’t plead a moment longer. Astraea coos before her mournful song fills the air, while you stay quiet as you pull the arrows off his body and cradle him, letting your last stream of tears escape your weeping soul as you rock him back and forth against you until your legs fall asleep, your arms hurt, and Astraea unfurls her body.

“Jacaerys?” Another voice breaks through the silence without a snarl or a single snap of a jaw from Astraea, so it must be someone you trust.

“No…NO! NO!” Agonizing sobs pierce through the air, pulling you away from your brother's body to look over and notice Baela with streams of tears running down her soot-covered face.

At first, it seems she wants to make hundreds of excuses to deny the truth, but her mind works fast and breaks her heart even further by having her see that yes, Jacaerys really is dead. There’s no mistaking it, thus she breaks away from her spot and runs over to fall on her knees across from you.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can offer her before you let her take Jacaerys’ body so you can stand up and attempt to mount your dragon.

Yet before you can, you stop as you see Rhaena standing there with soot all over her face and hair as well, but completely unharmed.

“Rhaena,” you sigh with relief and stride over to her to throw your arms around her. “You’re okay,” you breathe out and clutch onto her.

And it’s while you’re hugging her that you see that little dragon again. This time the brown and pink dragon is on the ground, staring you down right across from you.

“Is that,” you gasp and pull away to face Rhaena. “Yours?”

Rhaena peers back briefly before she meets your gaze and nods. “Yes, that’s my dragon, Morning.”

Your eyes flutter as you’re hit with disbelief. “That’s…amazing,” you deal with your disbelief on the spot. “I’m proud of you,” you praise her and cup her cheek.

The corner of her lips twitch to smile but she can’t make the effort to offer you the kind gesture because of Jacaerys in the back.

“Do you know…” you trail off and drop your arm back to your side. “If Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey are okay?”

Rhaena eyes flicker down and she lets out a shaky sigh before she responds. “Tyraxes brought Joffrey to Dragonstone when their cog was attacked, he's the one that alerted everyone of what was happening. We could not find Aegon or Viserys. They…” she trails off and starts to cry, whilst your chest is hit with a sharp pang. Yet tears fail to break from your eyes. You’re just riddled with more grief and agony.

“I understand.” You nod stiffly and begin to walk back toward Astraea, pulling Rhaena’s attention back to you.

“Where are you going?” She throws out in confusion.

You swallow thickly and grab the rope ladder hanging down Astraea’s side. “Back to Aemond,” you mutter.

Rhaena takes a step forward to try and grab you but you pull your arm away to avoid her touch.

“Why?” She demands to know. “Your place is with the Queen! With us!”

You glance over at your brother, the sole reason why you would return to your mother's side. And he’s dead now. Your place is with Aemond now until your last breath or until his. That’s where you belong because no matter what just happened, that resentment toward your mother and Daemon is still very much lively and raging flames.

“No,” you deadpan as you take your chainmail headpiece and put it back on your head, along with the silver mask that cages your face. “My place is with Aemond.” You tell her coldly with no hint of sorrow in your voice, making her part her lips to argue.

However, you don’t wait to hear another piece of argument; you quickly mount your dragon, and Astraea doesn’t fret to ascend to the sky or make a sharp turn away from the Gullet to direct yourselves back to where Aemond is, back home. She flaps her wings and gets further away, foot by foot, and your gaze remains cold and set in the furious morning sky. Your body remains stiff, every blink is done slowly as if it’s too much strain, while your breaths are slow and deep, and not a single thought occupies your mind which makes it easy to mindlessly drop your gaze on your hands and lose yourself on nothing in particular.

Alas, when your eyes land on your hands you see the bright crimson blood staining them. There’s blood on your hands and when you lift them off the handles of your saddle to study them, you look at them in disbelief until at last a thought goes through your mind; It’s not your blood, it’s Jacaerys’ blood. The blood from his fatal wounds is staining your hands.

Your brother's blood is on your hands…he’s dead, and all you have besides memories is his blood.

A shuttered gasp escapes your lips, but rather than having tears return to your eyes, something painful unravels where your heart used to be instead. Something so vigorous, something so piercing, and throbbing, that with each pulse, the blood rushing through your veins pumps faster.

“This will cost Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys their only remaining child. And it will cost my daughter…her father.”

Your lips twitch before they start to curl into a scowl, while that cold and mindless gaze starts to spark a fierce fire in your eyes.

“He—it broke him to leave you and your brothers behind, but he also knew that I needed more than he could offer for our sake. He was selfless. He did it because he loved us, because he loved you.”

You gently shake your head in an attempt to shake away what’s building inside you, but nothing stops you from returning your hands to your saddle with a deadly, and nothing holds back the once slow and deep breaths from growing shallow and quicker.

“It’s…okay. You’re…here now.”

Jacaerys’ last words echo through your mind now and at last, you recognize what it is that plagues you so. It’s raging anger. It’s blinding and agonizing. It torments your very soul and sets it ablaze while setting this dire need for bloody revenge there where your heart once used to be.

That is what is making your breaths so shallow and quick, that’s what is pumping through your veins, and that’s what completely burns away the mercy you had and the kindness you held for everything in this world that wasn't those you cherished. It's all completely gone.

Who you once were is gone, and this new bloodthirsty self cannot leave without destroying those who were responsible for the death of your brother. Thus with a deep exhale you nudge the handles to the side, and Astraea makes a big turn to return toward the Gullet.

This time rather than remaining vigilant and careful Astraea flies low once she reaches the water again as your eyes dart around the watery battlefield in search of one ship; the commanding ship that holds the commander of the fleet, and Ser Tyland Lannister, the one who made the alliance.

Honestly, it should not be hard, usually, the commanding ship always has a different flag to differentiate them from the rest. And if not well you can’t imagine Ser Tyland staying back to fight with the men once the dragons joined the battle, so he should still be nearby. You just need to find the right ship.

All the other dragonriders that were fighting when you got here now seem to be retreating as the Triarchy fleet is fleeing, so they look back at you confused as Astraea and you fly past them, but to you, it’s not like they’re even there. Nothing steals your attention, you keep your eyes set on the fleeing fleet to search and search.

Once you get closer to the fleet, what’s left of the fleeing Triarchy is clearer, but so is the fact that you’re not there on peaceful terms. The Velaryon men were instructed not to attack you regardless of what side you came to fight for, but the Triarchy was not given the same command. They see you coming and panic returns to their bodies after thinking they would be able to flee unscathed.

You could hardly care about the fodder though. You're dead set on one ship, but as you cross the line and start to fly over the Triarchy fleet, they bring out crossbows and grapples. And it’s true, arrows from crossbows can’t harm Astraea, her scales are too thick now to be harmed by something so minuscule, and your armor protects the most significant parts of you, but those grapples are the same that took Vermax down, and they’re the same ones that could possibly take Astraea down.

That's why you pull out your bow and arrows and crouch over your saddle as you see men approach the starboard of their ships in an attempt to bring your dragon down, completely unaware of your counter antics. They don’t expect you to have a way to fight back, they don’t see their fates coming to an end until Astraea tilts to one side to let you aim at one man on your left side, and shoot him down with one arrow. The second man on your left side sees what befell the other man, but he doesn’t quit, so as Astraea is flying past, you twist around and let the arrow fly into his throat.

Once that threat is left behind, you face ahead hastily, and there leading the escape is the commanding ship. It’s still standing, just as you assumed, and so that vigorous anger only burns more fiercely. It’s a blinding thing, letting you easily forget about any sort of consequence this direct attack may have.

All that occupies your mind is anger and revenge. It’s consuming and agonizing. And for once it threatens to bring tears to your eyes, it makes your chest grow tight as that need fills you, but rather than letting any tears escape, you let out a blood-curdling and painful scream that carries so much deepened pain that Astraea feels it too. She feels it in her own heart, making her release her own ache by opening her mouth and letting out a shrieking cry before she blasts fire out and burns down the ships in the way of the commanding ship.

Now there’s no mistaking who you’re after, the people on the commanding ship know you’re hunting them. They’re your prey, and so they try to fight back to defend themselves as they’re at their weakest, but rather than hitting them straight on, Astraea dives in the water, leaving them paranoid as to where you’ll appear.

They run to every edge of the ship to look in the water, and you’re easy to find. Astraea is long, and it would be pretty hard to miss such a large beast swimming in the water. That's why they assume you’re coming out from the other side to burn them down from the front, that's why they take their eyes off the water and frantically point their aim at the empty space ahead.

However, you don’t go for an attack from the front, Astraea swerves to one side, and you completely catch them by surprise when you and your dragon jump out of the water like ravenous sea creatures after they’re prey.

The warriors on the ship are quick to fix their aim, one is even closer to hitting the trigger, but they don’t know you’ve trained hard, they don’t know how hard you’ve pushed yourself, so you leave them all completely shocked when you jump off your saddle and let an arrow fly out whilst you’re in midair.

When the arrow hits the attacker you hit the floor harshly and sloppily, but you’re quick to push yourself to your knees and throw your head up to pierce your glare at the warriors before you.

“Give me Ser Tyland,” you snarl. “And your commander.”

Glances are exchanged, but no one utters a word, breaths escape their mouths, but no matter how menacing you proved yourself to be, their greatest threat is Astraea, your dragon circling around to fly back toward the fleet.

“Have it your way,” you grumble and hang your bow around you to instead pull out the mighty Valyrian sword, Blackfyre from its sheath.

Now the stillness that once kept people stuck to their spots breaks and a woman sets herself after you. She’s tall with long dirty blond hair, a long face, and a small scar over her lips. She pulls out a curved blade and swings low to try and slash your thighs, but you surprise her by swinging the sword down and meeting her swing with a loud clash.

“You want me,” she speaks, revealing herself as the person you’re after. “Here I am, Princess,” she spats with a playful smirk.

You tilt your head to the side as you grimace, and then throw your foot out to hit her knees, causing her to drop her hold and wobble. You proceed to not let her rest, you try to swing at her side, but before you can make your move, hurried footsteps come at you from behind, so you hastily spin around whilst you reach back for an arrow.

When your gaze drifts to the corner of your eyes, you catch the attacker and hurl the arrow at his face as you’re turning, so when you face him completely the arrow caves in their face and puts him down.

All while the commander has the same thought process as you and proceeds to try and overwhelm you by swinging from behind, but you twirl back around and clash your sword against her blade.

The commander then lifts her blade and swings again and again, but you block her every single time and actually end up making her laugh. “What a surprise you are,” she says with awe and amusement. “Here I thought you Valyrians were all prissy cunts, but alas, here you are. I would have loved to have drinks with you.”

You huff at her ability to talk at a moment like now and don't even think of returning any of her lightheartedness. You use all your strength and shove her blade to the side, making her falter. You then try to lunge forward, but suddenly a hand grabs the back of your head, pulling the chainmail off your head, while they also grab the back of your neck and yank you back.

You react with a groan and grind your teeth as they keep pulling you back with confidence since your dragon is setting other ships ablaze, and or ripping them apart by jumping out of the water right from under them. Yet your attacker's confidence was blinding, and they perhaps did not trust you to think quickly, but you do. You spin the sword around in your hand; in the same way Aemond likes to do it, and then fold your arm back to impale the man in the eye.

The man then cries out and you pull the sword out before you shove them back with your elbow, and then spin around to slash their belly. When they hit the ground you should leave them be, but your rage sends you on top of them, and has you using their own blade to stab their face over and over again, making blood splash on your face again and again until it’s like another layer of skin.

You’re so consumed by what you’re doing that you forget where you are, only your pain accompanies you, it’s loud and tormenting. And unlike when you were throwing your clothes off the balcony, this time Aemond is not here to pull you out of your emotional state, you’re kicked to the ground, and that is what snaps you from your rageful trance.

When you look up, there, overshadowing you is the commander. She shoots you a smirk before she lifts her leg and quickly tries to bring her foot down. Before you can be slammed by her foot though, you roll over to the side where your sword is to take it from the ground, and then press your hands on the floor as you bring your legs back to be able to throw yourself forward and land on your feet.

The woman quickly turns to face you and swings her blade, but you throw yourself back to avoid her swing. In doing so though, a man runs at you from the side.

You quickly give him your attention and twist the sword around in your hand before you sprint at them. When you get close, rather than clashing blades, you suddenly slide down and lunge your sword up to impale them through their stomach and slash down until you swiftly twist around on your feet, and push yourself to your given height.

Another warrior then tries to rush at you, and they give you some trouble, but you near an edge and you manage to kick them overboard, leaving you only with more warriors, but for one man you swing the sword so hard that you manage to cut their head clean off their neck. And honestly, that leaves you enthralled and smiling maliciously, while you also seek more danger, more blood, and violence. You’re relishing in the adrenaline that runs through your veins, wanting more, getting more, but not feeling satisfied.

Which is why after defeating more men, you turn and point your sword at the commander. She flashes you a wide and menacing grin before you both break from your spot. However, since you have the high ground right now, you hop off the top of the stairs that you’re on and bring your sword down.

The commander tries to block your thrust, but you end up swinging the sword, making the tip of the blade slash her across the face, and causing her to fall on the ground grunting and clutching at their bleeding face.

“” you say in High Valyrian between heavy breaths once you’re standing on the floor. “<I'll have you.>”

You twist the sword around in your hand and try to thrust down, but through her pain, she rolls to one side and quickly scrambles herself off her feet to run away. You try to run after her, but she ends up throwing herself overboard, and you would walk to the edge to shoot her with an arrow, but a tall and buff older man blocks your way with two blades in his grasp.

“I’ll send the Sea Snake your head, Blood Dragon.” He throws at you as he points a blade at you. “We’ll prove the Sea Snake can weep.”

You snicker and lunge at him, but he doesn’t falter, he counters your action by swinging his blades down and clashing them against your sword. You try to push his blades up and away from you, but he challenges you with his strength and pushes back so hard that you start to slide back.

You then try to move your sword to the side, but he doesn’t let you move an inch, he doesn’t budge, he instead tries to unarm you, but you fight back. It might be challenging, you might be groaning, but you dig your heels in the floor and push back, causing the tip of your blades to scrape on a wooden pillar as you both press and move against each other.

However, as entertaining as this little game is, you know you can’t hold on longer. He’ll overpower you, so you bounce off a crazy stupid idea that just popped into your head. It’s stupid and sudden, but you don’t have another choice.

You let your sword fall from your grasp, hitting him with confusion, and making him stumble. Just before the sword can hit the ground like he thought it would, you swoop down and catch it before you thrust the sword up and impale him through his jaw so hard that the tip of the sword comes out of his head, and blood pours out all over you.

“Damn,” you cough and spit out blood that hits your lips whilst the man hits the floor—“Forgive me this has been hell,” you direct at the twins as you press your hand on your belly. “Don’t worry, your father will try and be angry, but he’ll also be too busy creaming his pants to do anything about it.” You strain a chuckle.

“Blood dragon!” Some stupid man interrupts you catching your breath, forcing you to slowly turn and face a brave man. “I won’t let you leave this ship.”

You hold their gaze and rather than preparing to counter his incoming attack, a wicked smile starts to tug on your lips as you see Astraea approaching from behind, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Mad cunt,” he spats and bends his knees to get ready to run at you, but a part of Astraea’s shadow then casts over him and he goes paralyzed as he immediately figures out what threat is lurking behind him. He doesn’t need to look back, he feels the hot steam of her breath unfurling over his back and all over the floor, yet he still starts to peer back with thick beads of nervous sweat dripping down his face, and sees that the same wicked smile playing on Astraea’s lips.

Now you don’t need to say it, Astraea knows your heart's desire, but you’re dramatic, so you part your lips and say the words almost seductively. “Dracarys.”

The man’s face goes white, and he tries to run, but Astraea is quick. The moment she opens her mouth she bathes the man in her raging flames that manage to kiss you.

The man wails out in pain and his body mindlessly moves around as he falls to his knees, letting him capture the horrifying sight of you not wincing or moving a single muscle as the flames touch you just enough that they should be piercing and skinning you alive. You just stand there with an even more malicious smile.

“<Fire…demon>,” he says in Valyrian with his last breath before he collapses on the floor.

You watch the skin and flesh melt off his bones with a cold and emotionless expression painted on your face, while Astraea swoops down and catches a man trying to sneakily jump off the ship.

When she has him in her jaws he begins to shriek as her large and sharp teeth pierce in him. He desperately cries out for your help, but only pulls your attention to him in the sky to watch him try and squirm away out of instinct as his body hangs over her jaw; in doing so annoying your dragon to the point that instead of burning him to eat him, she chomps down on him, making blood and pieces of flesh rain down on you as she flies by.

And rather than turning your head away, you close your eyes and welcome the rain of blood. You relish in it as if you were withered up and that rain of blood and flesh was the very salvation you needed.

When you open your eyes again and tilt your head down there in the distance is none other than the man you missed, Ser Tyland Lannister.

His eyes are unmistakably on you, wide and horrified by the vile display, but also caught in awe; that’s what leaves him paralyzed to the floor, you. Regardless of the fact that you’re trudging toward him with the tip of Blackfyre scraping against the wooden floor, he can’t make himself move because he sees you walk through that violent dragon fire without a single wince, or cry. It’s as if the very dooming fire bowed to your feet, like if your flesh was fire made like a dragons; it made you captivating, alluring, and otherworldly ethereal. Much more than any other Targaryen he’s ever met before.

Alas no matter how much he wanted to keep watching this almost demonic display, you make it out of the fire with a wicked smile only aimed at him and he knows with that menacing look alone that you will not hesitate to slay him like you did almost everyone else on this ship. So he doesn’t even attempt to try and fight back, not with your dragon circling back around. He runs into the cabins instead.

You chuckle dryly and change your trudge into a quiet stride that makes you almost like some haunting ghost. But that’s it, almost, your breaths are heavy and that’s what gives you away when your footsteps don’t.

Yet it’s not like you care that he hears you. You want him to hear you coming, your heart races with excitement at the fact that he’s scared and running away from you like some scared prey.

“Ser,” you call out in a sing-song voice in such an alluring way that it makes that Siren alias all too fitting. “Ser.”

You push a wooden door open with the tip of your sword and slowly trudge in about halfway. When you see that the cabin is abandoned you continue with your search, looking from cabin to cabin until you come across a locked room.

“Ha,” you breathe out and step back to swing the sword across the door and make a long slash across the wood. You proceed to make another and another until there's a large enough gap that you can see through. After that you approach the door and peek inside, catching the valiant knight inside like some cornered rat.

“There you are,” you roll out and flash him a wicked smile before you back away and make a last slash across the door so you’re able to walk through it.

“We’re on the same side,” he throws out nervously as you stomp toward him.

“Are we?” You retort and twist the sword around in your hand.

Confusion flickers on his face before his eyes widen and he scoffs. “You’re one of them. A black.”

You stop walking and fold your arm back to hang the sword over your shoulder and tilt your head. “No,” you don’t hesitate to say. “Wrong again.”

You roll your head back to place and slowly tilt it down. “You,” you grimace with a piercing glare that burns through the windows of his soul as you refuse to lose your prey from your sights. “…you killed Jacaerys,” you finally announce the meaning behind your fury, and as you stand there across from him a soft beam of sunlight peeking through a round window catches on your face, letting him see how the blood that rolls down your cheeks like tears gleams against the sunlight.

“And now,” your voice quivers. “I am going to kill you.”

The corner of your lips curl to a scowl seconds before you lunge forward, but come to a halt when he meets your lunge with a block.

You grunt and push yourself back to swing at his side, but a sharp cling echoes in the room as the metal from your swords sings.

“I did not kill the Prince,” Ser Tyland tries to explain, and you know that. You know that, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters besides trying to satisfy the anger that’s eating away at your soul.

Which is why you throw swing after mighty swing and grow even more frustrated over the fact that he keeps blocking and countering you. You want him dead, you want to feel like you got some sense of justice to try and ease what’s growing inside you, but he keeps evading and blocking your every move to the point that when you bring your arms back to throw another swing at him, you leave yourself open, letting him use his foot to kick your chest.

When you hit the ground you let out a sharp cry and quickly swipe your sword off the ground, but Ser Tyland falls over you to straddle you and clash his sword against yours.

“I will not hurt or kill you,” he says between pants.

You scoff. “<Because you’re scared,>” you snap back in High Valyrian. “<The Prince Regent won’t be forgiving when he hears you were responsible for my death.>”

Ser Tyland swallows back nervously and looks at you confused as he doesn’t understand what you’re saying to him. You just sound mad.

“<Do it.>” You snarl. “Do it!” You yell in the common tongue in an almost inviting manner. “Do it!” You cry out.

Ser Tyland parts his lips, but as he does the door from the wardrobe in the corner rattles before it slightly opens.

You slide your eyes to the door and there in the shadows you see a glimpse of golden-silver hair before you make out who was hidden inside. It’s your brother, Aegon.

And Ser Tyland knew. That’s why he came in here, to use him against you, or take him. Either or, you drift your gaze to Ser Tyland and grimace before thrusting your knee up to hit his groin.

Ser Tyland groans and falters letting you push him off you and then quickly follow up by kicking him in the face so hard that he passes out.

“Aegon,” you call out in a complete change of tone and demeanor; from rageful and menacing to soft and reassuring. “Aegon come out.”

You return the sword to its sheath and reach the wardrobe to open the door and let him know it’s okay, it’s just you, his sister. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s just me.”

Aegon takes a look at your face and his bottom lip trembles as his eyes fill with fear and tears.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you try to assure him. “Come so you can go to Mother.”

He hears that last word and his attention perks.

“Mama?” He mumbles and wipes his eyes.

You nod softly and approach him to carry him away with you as you return to Ser Tyland's unconscious body and grab him by the collar to drag him out with you.

“You’ll be okay,” you continue to try and comfort your little brother. “You’ll go home soon.”

“Home,” he repeats.

You hum and offer him a tiny smile before nuzzling your forehead against his cheek as a wave of reassurance hits you over the fact that even if no one could find Viserys, you found Aegon. Not a lot may matter to you right now, but finding Aegon matters.

Is feeling the relief of finding your brother enough to return you to your mother’s side? No, it isn’t, but you’ll hand him to Rhaena or Baela, they can take him home.

With that in mind, you walk back outside, and the first thing you’re welcomed with is Astraea hovering over the burning ship as she waits for you.

“You need to hang on,” you advise Aegon. “It will just be a short ride, okay?”

Aegon looks at you and utters, “Aeri.”

You chuckle. “No, Aerion is not here, but perhaps you will see him soon.”

Aegon lays his head on your shoulder and when you reach the ladder hanging from Astraea’s saddle you let Ser Tyland go to hold onto the ladder with a tight grip.

You don’t climb to your saddle because one, it would be hard doing so with a toddler on your hip, and two, what’s the point when it’s a short ride to land? So you just hang onto the ladder and Astraea takes flight, but not without snatching Ser Tyland off the floor with her feet first.

When you reach land, Astraea discards Ser Tyland on a patch of grass before she lands near Seasmoke and lets you hit the ground where you’re greeted by both Rhaena and Baela, who both sport red and puffy eyes now after crying so much.

“Take Ser Tyland to Rhaenyra, or your father, or leave him here, I do not care, just take Aegon home,” you direct at the twins as you glance over at Addam departing himself from Seasmoke and slowly looking at your blood-covered figure up and down.

“What happened to you?” Rhaena asks with concern and disbelief. “Are you alright?”

“Rhae!” Aegon points out before he pulls away from you to throw his arms out to garner her attention.

“I’m alright,” you deadpan and steal another glimpse at Addam and can’t offer him a kind or even a faint smile, the thought of him stealing your son's title as heir plagues your mind, making you roll your eyes away from him with disgust.

“Viserys?” Baela asks whilst Rhaena takes Aegon from your hold.

“I only found Aegon,” you speak quietly and with a hint of disappointment and sorrow in your voice. “Take him home and be careful, okay?”

You turn to return to your dragon, but once again the same question as before is thrown out. “Where are you going? Are you not going home?” Baela is the one who asks now.

This time you don’t stop what you’re doing to face either of them. You continue striding toward your dragon while ignoring Addam and mutter back. “I am going home.”

——

*LATER*

They had moved while you were gone. Not far, but they still did, making you fly low over the treetops until you manage to find the green dragon, Vhagar, hidden amongst all the greenery.

When you land and hit the ground, rustling behind you puts you on guard as if you were still fighting on that ship. So you swiftly pull the sword out of the sheath before you spin around and press the blade against your armguard to point the blade at the threat.

Once the lurker comes out of the shadows of the forest a heavy breath leaves your lips when you see that it’s just Aemond.

When your husband sees you he finds his breath caught in his throat when his eyes land on your blood-covered figure, puffy eyes, and cold and distant look. You couldn’t see it, you haven’t looked at a mirror or any reflection, but this heavy sullen look paints your face, letting him know that what you lived while you were away was anything but pleasant.

The way you roll your shoulders back to bring your arms down from their defensive position, and the way you avert your gaze to avoid looking at his current emotions only proves that further.

“Rhaena bonded to a wild dragon,” you share in the same bitterness that has taken control of your face. “Viserys is dead, and…” you trail off and get close to him, but as his eye falls heavy on you, you still look distant. “…Jacaerys,” the name makes your lips tremble. “Is dead.” You breathe out deeply and walk away without hearing a word of what he most likely had planned since he found out you left. You just don’t want to argue, he’s mad, you know, you don’t need to look at his face or hear him to know. It will only be the same argument, so you just walk away, making Aemond trail behind you.

Once you reach the camp, everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at your bloody and shell-shocked figure striding toward your tent. No one says anything; no one dares. They all just stare and share the same disbelief and slight chill that crawls down their necks. When you approach your tent the first person who dares to get a word across is your sworn protector.

“Princess,” he gasps and slowly walks after you. “Are you alright?”

“Quite,” you deadpan and don’t give him the time of day, you just go in your tent to find your privacy there.

Aemond quickly tries to storm in after you to throw out his argument that he’s been building up since you arrived, but he’s stopped by a strong hand before he can open the flaps of his tent.

“Stop.”

Aemond twists his head to the side and sees that it’s his uncle who dared to stop him in his wrath. “She does not need to be yelled at right now. She needs her friend, husband, not a commander.”

Aemond narrows his gaze to a glare and curls his lips to a snarl. “She’s my wife, I may talk to her as I please. Why do you not mind your own business, uncle,” he spats spitefully and shoves past him to enter the tent, finding you seated on a wooden chair and starting to undo the braids drenched in dry blood.

“I know you’re upset,” you break the silence in an exhausted tone. “I left and I’m sorry, so please…just don’t say anything…I don’t feel like arguing. Besides,” you let out a shaky sigh. “I’m not leaving again…there’s nothing to go back to.”

Aemond stays stuck by the entrance and watches with his lips parted after you completely stole the breath he was going to use to argue.

He is going to walk back out, but he does remember what his uncle tried to suggest just moments ago and instead goes out to grab a bowl of water, making you slouch in your seat and frown as you think he just left to not be with you.

However, a couple of minutes pass by before Aemond returns to the tent, grabs another chair, places it in front of you to take a seat, and gently starts to wipe the dry blood off your face with warm water, making you immediately pause what you’re doing to look at him with a soft and thankful gaze whilst butterflies flutter in your stomach, and your cheeks grow warm.

Nothing is shared though, not your thanks, and he doesn’t ask what happened. He can already sort of imagine what happened by what you told him when you arrived, by your bloody state, and the bloody sword. Yet neither of you mind the silence, it’s not filled with anger or tension. The silence that sits in this tent is comforting and peaceful. You feel embraced without the need of his arms and feel appreciated and loved without the confirming words. Especially when he starts helping you undo your braids.

Still albeit after a while, as a bath is getting drawn for you, you can’t help but finally fill that silence. “You should have seen me, you would have been impressed.”

Aemond lifts his gaze to meet your eyes already on him and a faint smile twitches on his thin lips. “I do not doubt it. Look at you. Not a scratch on you.”

A smirk pulls on your lips and the warmth now creeps all over your face.

“How was the sword?” He asks.

You sigh proudly. “Lighter than I imagined. Sharper too, I cut a man’s head clean off his neck.” You grin and turn, making the braid Aemond was undoing slip from his fingers. “They called me Blood Dragon and Fire Demon,” you share proudly and with a small giggle that can’t make Aemond mad, the corner of his lips twitch up.

“And,” you add enthusiastically. “Astraea and I jumped out of the water, and I managed to land a hit from the air.” You share and try to motion your actions with your hands. “Like I jumped off and landed a hit.”

Aemond hums softly and you turn back around to continue undoing your braids, and letting Aemond continue to help.

“You should have told me you were going,” he manages to finally find the moment to at least get that across. “You can’t just leave like that.”

You sigh and your smile slowly falls. “I know, but would you have let me go otherwise?”

Aemond stays quiet and you find your answer in his silence.

“I overheard about the Triarchy, and my brothers getting in the way, and I…had to do something. Not like my efforts mattered either way,” you mutter coldly now which is such a fast switch from that honey and excitement in your voice just now. “I was late.”

Aemond watches your face and catches the flicker of rage and agony dancing in your eyes like wildfire, letting him know that this first battle you just fought in was just a mere taste of blood for you. You want to feast in it, he sees that hunger taking root within you. And who would he be if he denied you such pleasantries?

Like him, you will gorge in it.

But until then, once your braids are undone, once all the pearls and rings that decorated your hair are gone, and the armor you donned is off and your gown is on the floor, you dip in the bath and feel as if a weight lifted off you as you wash off all the blood.

“Have you heard anything of Daeron?” You ask Aemond as he sits by the bathtub.

Aemond sighs. “He fought in his first battle and was knighted, Ser Daeron the Daring.”

You blink with surprise and slowly turn to fold your arms over the bathtub and look at Aemond with a playful look. “When will they knight you?”

His eyes fall and a timid smile grows on his face. “That does not matter to me. You know that.”

“Ser Aemond the Sapphire,” you tease, causing his eyes to snap to you—“Ser Aemond…the Prince Regent.”

A laugh escapes past his mouth and you can’t help but laugh with him.

“That,” he breathes out and looks at you with a softened look. “Does not matter to me.”

You hum and reach your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his, making him lean in closer to you.

“Are you okay?” He finally asks.

You blink repeatedly as you try to fight the lump that begins to form in your throat and you can’t keep away. You can’t stop your chest from tightening either. You’re consumed by his genuine concern and you can’t lie even if that’s what you want.

Yet you don’t utter a word, but it doesn’t matter. Even though you can’t form a single word to express what you feel, he knows and cups your face right away to gently caress your cheeks.

You lean into his warm and soft touch and bask in it for a lingering moment before you reach over and take his eyepatch off to look at him as he is.

Aemond watches you longingly before he presses a gentle kiss on the heel of your hand, making your lips tug to a soft smile before it disappears as you wrap your arms around him to take him in for an embrace you immediately melt into. One Aemond doesn’t mind. Even if your body is dripping, he welcomes your embrace and returns it, making sure to press a kiss on your head and caress the back of your head before he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, and you do the same with him.

There are so many things you want to say, so many things that you want to let out of your chest at this specific moment, but all those kind words are shared in your loving embrace, in the kisses you press against his flesh, and in the way you cling onto him like you’re afraid he will die in your arms like your brother did.

You almost don’t want to let go of the soul you hold, you want to keep embracing the love of your life forever, but nothing is forever and the embrace cannot be forever, so after a long while you let go of each other. And after a while of just Aemond and you finding solace in each other's presence, when you’re clean and in a new and elegant black gown you find yourself in a meeting. One not so pleasant by the look on Ser Criston’s face.

“We lost Lord Jason Lannister,” he announces with his head down, but as serious as it’s meant to be, you snicker.

“And so the mighty lion is no more. I suppose having those lions in the field did not save him after all,” you comment, making Aemond snicker in amusement, and Ser Criston Cole to slowly lift his head and look at you with a pointed glare.

“I have received some conflicting reports,” he pauses and looks at you up and down. “It's said Ser Tyland was seen being taken by a dragon from a burning ship.”

You slowly roll your eyes his way and follow him as he stands up straight and begins to walk around the wooden table in the middle of the room.

“And that the men on the commanding ship were brutally slaughtered, and the Commander was maimed as they were sailing away after they retreated and won the battle,” he says through gritted and snaps his eyes to you.

You rest your arms on the chair's armrest and lift your nose in the air as you offer him a proud smirk you don’t feel ashamed of. You relish hearing the report and take it as a job well done, especially because they made the report travel here so fast.

“Princess, you were there,” Ser Criston finally drifts the spotlight to you hoping you would feel belittled and ashamed, or feel some kind of guilt, but you keep smirking. “Why not give some insight.”

You hum and hold his gaze. “It was me,” you confess proudly. “Astraea and I killed those men on that ship. I slashed the Commander's face, and I was the one who delivered Ser Tyland to the enemy.”

Eyes fall on you and Aemond starts to grow tense over your confession, but you don’t flinch or show remorse. Your gaze is cold, and your voice is filled with a sense of cockiness and that same coldness that was playing in your eyes.

“I attacked them because it was what felt right, because it was what I wanted,” you say with a hint of honey oozing in your voice, making a faint smile flicker on Aemond’s lips.

“They are our allies,” Ser Criston sounds frustrated. “They will take your attack as personal and pull back.”

You scoff. “There were hardly any of them left. The other dragonriders almost eradicated the entire fleet,” you explain even if you really shouldn’t. “I just attacked the commanding ship because they made me angry.” You shrug and Ser Criston scoffs and shakes his head.

“Both sides took heavy losses,” Aemond finally cuts in. “We still have the rest of our fleet on the way. The Princess Regent actually did us a favor by killing what remained of them.”

You blink in surprise and can’t help but steal a glance at him. You suspected that Aemond was going to be mad because of what you did, but he honestly surprised you.

“We don’t need them anymore, and the Princess took them off our backs before they could try and be greedy and ask for some reward.”

Ser Criston turns away furiously after not getting support from your husband, making you smile at the tabletop before you lift your head and find Aemond’s eyes on you. Not with a hint of some hidden anger, but flames of desire. And you can't help but mirror the same look in your eyes before you focus on Ser Gwayne as he walks toward Ser Criston.

“Our own fleets will arrive shortly and destroy what remains of the Velaryon fleet,” Ser Gwayne offers some consolation. “As of now we must continue forward and attack the army Prince Daemon cultivated. If we start tonight we shall arrive by first light,” he says and points to the map. “Aemond and the Princess will remain here and join us the following day.”

Aemond nods. “He will be anticipating our arrival with the army after he saw Astraea. Going the day after guarantees him being vigil all day as he anticipates us. We will catch him by surprise.”

Ser Criston shakes his head. “And if he is not there because he saw Astraea?” He spats and shoots daggers at you. “The plan was for you not to be seen,” he points at you. “It was a scouting task—”

“If he’s not there then he’s a coward who ran,” Aemond cuts him off as he tilts his head and starts to return his glare. “It's not that complicated,” he mocks him, making Ser Criston look away and clench his jaw.

“Now if it’s not complicated for you Ser, you should start getting ready to head out,” Aemond adds and stands from his seat. “Night is approaching.”

You hide your smirk and Ser Criston bows without bothering to look at his Prince. He just proceeds to leave.

“Princess. Nephew,” Ser Gwayne offers his goodbye along with a proper bow.

“Good luck in battle, Ser,” you offer him kindly while you take Aemond’s hand so he can help you to your feet.

“Thank you, Princess,” he says with a smile before he heads out, letting you face Aemond as you're left alone.

“Thank you for having my back,” you interject, making Aemond let out a deep sigh and stroke your chin as he looks at you with a half-lidded gaze that lights your entire body ablaze, and makes you lean in to close the gap with a kiss. However, he then tilts his head away like a tease and slides his thumb up to brush it over your bottom lip.

You take in a deep breath as you hold his gaze and then lean your head down to part your lips and slowly close them around the tip of his thumb. When he feels the warmth and wetness of your mouth he grins before he drags his thumb down as he can’t resist you a moment longer, he leans in and slams his lips over you.

You quickly wrap your arms around his neck without breaking contact. You then drag him to the table where he proceeds to push you against the end before he hooks his hands on the back of your knees and lifts you up to sit you on the edge. To secure him against you, you wrap your legs around his waist and lose your hands in his long blond-silver hair to ball some in your hands and pull him even closer to you.

When you pull back for air neither of you take too long apart, neither of you want to lose touch out of fear you will lose yourselves if you don’t keep your mouths connected and moving sloppily yet in sync with each other. If you stay too far apart you fear being too cold, so neither of you stray far. When you rip his clothes off he stays in between your legs, and when he pulls your gown off you stay on the table to make sure you reconnect quickly, like reconnecting a piece of a puzzle to complete the beautiful art.

That’s what your souls are like, two pieces of puzzle that fit perfectly together, that belong together. Separate them and the puzzle can never be completed, they can connect with others, but…the puzzle will always be lacking one or the other.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

You dreaded the morning because it meant you had to live the next day. You had to get out of the comfort of Aemond’s warm embrace as he slept away with his head on your chest, and his arm lazily hooked around your waist.

Waking up meant having to move forward and join the army of men in Harrenhal to fight Daemon. You want to stay here and keep hearing the birds singing on the branches. You want to keep smelling the fresh scents of nature—albeit the rain is something you don’t mind leaving.

You just don’t want to live throughout the day. You want to remain in bed forever in your husband's arms and blanketed by his vulnerable and nude body. Why can't you just stay here in your tent with Aemond? Why do you have to get up?

Alas, you get up, making sure not to wake Aemond to let him sleep in while he can and while he’s not being pestered or waited on. You throw on a black gown that has Aerion’s swamp green Shrykos embroidered around the skirt curtsy of Helaena, and then don a golden breastplate before you walk out with your bow and arrow.

“Come, Ser Jason,” you tell the knight who stayed behind to protect you and Aemond.

“Wh-where are we heading?” He stammers out as he gets up from the log he was on and quickly trails after you, leaving the campfire unintended. “What of the Prince?”

You disregard his fear of Aemond and quickly try to assure him—or more so brush him aside. “I’m letting him sleep in while I go hunt for our breakfast. Besides I left a note of where we’ll be if we haven't returned by the time he wakes.”

“But—”

“Relax, we won’t be gone long, the creak is not far.”

You hear Ser Jason’s lips part, but he just bites his tongue and follows your hurried pace to the creak a few clicks down north. When you arrive to the rushing creak you miss Ser Jason’s panic as you carelessly hop down large rocks to reach the creak’s bed.

“Princess—”

You throw your hand up to shush him and carelessly step in the water without caring that the end of your gown was getting soaked, or that your boots were dipped in the cold water.

“You’ll scare the fish if you’re loud,” you whisper and carefully align your arrow as you lock your eyes on a fat silverfish.

“I could hunt for you if fish is what you require,” Ser Jason whispers sharply so he can be heard from the high ground.

You track the fish with your eyes as it starts to swim away and shake your head to not leave the man ignored as you hold your bottom lip between your teeth before you let the arrow fly out.

When the arrow hits the fish and leaves it motionless in an instant, Ser Jason claps.

“Thank you,” you respond to his praise as you reach over and pick up the arrow that has the fish clung to it. “And no need, I can hunt on my own. Just two more and we can head back.”

You proceed to hunt and catch another fish when it comes to the third and last one, you don’t struggle to find it. You let the arrow go, but all it does is scrape the fish because it seems to be too smart for its own good and swims away, leaving behind a trail of blood in the water that you follow as you quickly pull out a fourth arrow.

Once you have it cornered you let the arrow go and this time you manage to kill it, making you grin and whisper a small, “yes,” to yourself before you run over and collect your trophy.

However, it’s when you’re holding the arrow in your hands that the fish slips off the tip, making you quickly reach out to catch it, and getting your hands stained with its blood that leaks out of the gash you left.

Normally you don’t mind blood. Just yesterday you were covered in it, but right now as you see the blood on your hands your mind plays a cruel trick on you by flashing the memory of Jacaerys dying in your arms, and your hands stained in his blood.

You see him there in the creak, floating lifelessly in the water, his eyes rolled back, and his fatal wounds bleeding out and staining the creak.

You remember him, his last breath, and the red blood on your hands flashes in your mind again and again and again, taking your breath from your chest, and leaving you paralyzed.

You want to snap out from the trance your mind has you under, but he won’t go away, and the blood won’t stop flashing. You want to breathe, you want to get away, but tears well in your eyes, your hands begin to tremble, and you’re there again watching your brother die, getting covered in his blood without the ability to bring him back to life or heal those fatal wounds. All you can do is watch him until your world is red and rage begins to seep through.

Rage you bring forth to pull yourself out of your trance. Once the vision of your brother's corpse is gone from the water, you crouch to very harshly wash the blood off your hands and then head back to camp with that excitement gone and rage now twisted on your face.

Ser Jason notices, he wants to speak up about it many times, but he fears upsetting you further, so let’s the silence mingle until you’re the one who breaks it. “Do you have any siblings Ser?”

Ser Jason blinks and gapes in disbelief, thinking your voice is some mind trick until you peer back at him and press your question with a lift of your brows.

“N-no,” he shakes his head. “None, just me.”

You hum. “You’re lucky then,” you mumble but he doesn’t catch what you say, your words get lost in the sky as you look away to watch the grey clouds rumbling overhead.

“I did…” he trails off and sighs. “Love someone like they were my sibling. She died though, just before she could leave and see some of the world she wanted to see.”

You blink and lower your gaze to watch your path ahead. “How?” You ask.

Ser Jason hesitates to answer, but he doesn’t deny you the knowledge of knowing what you asked for. “Killed by someone important who covered up her death.”

You nod stiffly and let out a deep breath that is followed by quiet words full of rage. “Then you know what it feels like…to want to burn the world because it took them away from you.”

Ser Jason parts his lips and stares at you in disbelief. He’s felt anger, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t still upset, but the kind of rage you express just now with what you said is something he can’t relate to. If he’s being honest what you said scares him to the point he can’t follow up with anything else that would feel right to say. That and what if he says something that upsets you? So he stays quiet instead and wonders if the reason you returned to camp all bloody is because of a brother you speak so gloomily about. After all, he knows you have brothers, he knows Queen Rhaenyra has a lot of children, and that you lost a brother at the start of this war, so this new rage he hadn’t heard you express before must be due to why you were gone.

He doesn’t want to ask if it’s true, he fears your reaction with how upset you already sound, so he just keeps quiet. Besides, he can’t really ask more even if he had the balls to because you walk away faster, as if trying to escape the topic from developing any further, leaving the rest of the walk back to camp tense and awkward, and leaving you like the brewing storm passing overhead.

That is until you reach camp and see Aemond out stoking the fire.

“Look!” You announce and show off the fish you caught. “Breakfast. I wanted to have it done before you woke up, but…”

“I heard you when you left,” he finishes for you, making you grin before you skip over to his side in front of the fire.

“Well then now I guess I’ll show you how it’s done,” you interject and plop yourself down on the log. “Just so whenever you find yourself alone or lost somewhere you can make your own food.”

He scoffs. “I can make my own food,” he mumbles, pulling your eyes to him, and making you flash him a teasing smile.

“Okay, sure my Prince,” you tease him and yank a fish off an arrow.

Aemond watches the way you handle the fish as if you have done this multiple times and can’t help but probe. “Where did you learn how to skin a fish?”

Your smile falls and you tilt your head away before you give him a short and stiff answer. “My father.”

Aemond hums and then sits down beside you to put his hands over yours and take over what you’re doing.

You try to fight him, but he’s stubborn and overpowers you.

“I wanted to make some breakfast for you.” You mumble and rest your chin on your hand, making Aemond chuckle.

“I’m being serious!” You exclaim and throw yourself on his side to fix his hand's position before you rest your chin on his shoulder and watch him do what you were just doing. “We’re alone…kind of, and I wanted to take advantage of it. After this, who knows when we’ll be alone like this again.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a moment,” he tries to assure you, but you aren’t reassured whatsoever.

“Where did you even learn how to skin a fish?” You retort and tilt your head to the side to lay your head on his shoulder instead.

“A book,” you both say in sync since you know the only way he would’ve learned how to do this is from a book. He’s a book nerd.

“Hm,” Aemond hums in reaction to you knowing what he was going to say, and you can’t help but laugh and then lean in to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Well thank you I suppose. You took over what I wanted to do, but it’s nice. I enjoy seeing you get your hands dirty.” You grin, and he stops what he’s doing to turn his head and meet your gaze with a serious look.

You keep smiling at him and whisper against his lips. “The twins and I anticipate your cooked fish.”

He hums and he can’t beat down the smile that spreads on his features.

“Maybe you should cook for us more often,” you tease as he continues. “And maybe we should do stuff like this more often after the war. Even if you end up being King, hm?”

Aemond stiffens for a second and doesn’t react or respond with anything, he just stays still, watching nothing in particular until a raindrop hits your hand and you rip away from him to look at the sky in horror.

“No,” you complain, and as if in retaliation the rain comes down harder—“No! It’s raining!” You whine and stand on your feet to be closer to the damn sky and glare at it.

“We can finish inside the tent,” Aemond offers some reassurance, but to someone who’s already upset, this mishap just finds a way to tear you down.

“Come on,” Aemond urges you and grabs your hand, but you drop your head and stay put, causing your hand to slip from his hold.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper over the pattering rain. “I’m sorry.”

Aemond puts down what he has in his hand and turns to approach you and grab your hands to tilt your face up so you can meet his gaze.

“I,” you part your lips. “I know why we’re out here, I know what we have to do, but I still wanted to make the most of the time we have alone, and now…” you trail off and shake your head. “It's ruined. I’m sorry.”

Aemond glances up, letting raindrops fall on his face before he looks down and leans in closer. “It’s just rain,” he says sweetly. “It’s just water.”

Raindrops roll down your cheeks, but tears don’t fall from your eyes. You frown deeply and your eyes droop, expressing a great sorrow that fails to bring tears to your eyes, but if you look closely, like he is, you would see your soul weeping.

“You’re here,” he takes his turn to whisper against your lips. “That’s all that matters to me. You’re here with me, that’s all I care about.”

“Yeah?” You ask for reassurance, and he nods softly.

“Yeah.”

You let out a shaky sigh and even shakier words. “I love you Aemond, and there’s never a day where I’m not grateful that you’re with me,” you share from the depths of your soul as if you feared something, he just can’t quite figure out what yet. He just hears that fear in your voice. “Because if you weren’t here, I would have burned the world and I would’ve disappeared with it.”

“Don’t say that,” he presses sharply, but you don’t regret a word because it’s what you know you feel.

“People I love are getting taken away from me. My mother lied to me, and my father left and died,” you continue sharing as if time is running out and this is the last moments you have together. “But I still have you. You’re all I need, you’re all I want, you’re the only person I trust in this world.”

His breath shudders, and his eyes are quick to fill with tears as your words ache his heart in the best way possible.

“You’re all I ever desired. You are all I want and need and love with every part of me, of who I am, who I was, and who I will be in this lifetime and any other I find myself in,” he whispers as he presses his forehead against your damp one, making the pouring rain now fall over your joined heads. “You occupy my every dream and every inch of my heart.”

You laugh softly and cup his jaw to caress his cheeks. “” you share your intimate and love-filled words in your native tongue.

“” he doesn’t hesitate returning those same feelings in the same tongue, making you hold his awe-struck gaze for a lingering moment before you wrap your arms around him, and pull him in a tight embrace, letting him know at that moment as he returns your embrace and kisses your cheek, what it is you feared.

You fear this being your last moments together. You fear that this is the last second you have and the last breaths you’ll take together. The thought of this moment in time being the last one you have together frightens you.

What a foolish fear.

A/N- :) Harrenhal is comin!!!

Tags

fanfiction hotd house of the dragon moonlight aemond targaryen hotd season 2 aemond targaryen fanfiction hotd fanfiction damn-stark house of the dragon fanfiction

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mep3rd0nas

9 months ago

YESSSS!!!!!!!Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

New chapter!!!!!! WOOOOOOOO (^)o(^)

Chapter 16 And wisdom choke you

Chapter 16 of Moonlight

A/N- Aegon: “Maester the psychos are loose. Help me.”

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, ANGST!!, fluff!!, Aegon, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

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

Episode- 2x06-2x07

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Of course, you knew Aemond was going to kick his mother out of the Small Council. He said he didn't think she was really needed there anymore.

You also saw his unwillingness as he told you.

Is that why she’s here interrupting your peace?

“You look very lovely today, Your Grace,” Alicent offers you sweet words as if working up to her bribe. Or not?

Then again it’s not like you seek each other's company, so she most likely wants to talk about Aemond with you, and you have some idea what she might say. She was basically yelling it at you for help during the Small Council meeting.

Still, you pretend you don't have a clue and spare a glance at the pretty teal dress decorated with embroidered stars on the long capes that cascade down your shoulders, and then look over at her and notice her studying the pearl headpiece that you wear, the golden arm sleeves that hang from your armbands and weigh down your arms before she meets your gaze and gives you a smile.

“I have to say I always like how you dress, and I don’t know how you do it with your morning sickness.” She says and takes a step closer while you offer her a genuine smile.

“I will admit I don’t know how I do it either, I’d rather be abed, but,” you sigh and take a glance around. “There’s stuff to be done and I really hate being bored and so plain dressed. I blame my father for that.” You laugh softly. “There was never a day I did not see him dressed so extravagantly…except for when it came to training of course.”

She offers you a faint smile and adds nothing since there’s really nothing she wanted to say about your father to avoid upsetting you, and well, she really didn’t care at the moment.

“After the small council meeting, I could not help but hear that you are having trouble keeping food down,” Alicent brings up to not drift away too far.

You nod. “Yes, I,” you pause and drop your gaze as you find that your next words come easy to you. Is it because the way she framed her question is how your mother would have asked you? Or because you really are seeking some help on the matter?

“…I have been finding it hard between not being hungry and not keeping the food down, or my head and stomach aching,” you spill out your troubles out of desperation. “I never had that while I was expecting Aerion. It was rather easy then.”

Alicent finishes closing the distance between you to be able to grab your arm as she looks at you softly, making her brown eyes almost inviting to get lost in.

“It’s all normal, not every experience will be the same, especially with twins,” she tries to offer you what you seek. “Morning sickness goes away, I found that ginger tea with drops of lemon juice helped me when I was feeling under the weather with Daeron.”

You take in her suggestion with a gentle nod and soon thereafter see her hand gently slide off your arm.

“It will go away. Just like one of the twins will grow like their sibling, don’t worry,” she adds, making you swallow back nervously and nod in comprehension.

“Aemond,” you share in a soft voice that you rarely use when you’re talking with her. “Has tried to read into it. I caught him this morning since it’s the only time he can dive back into his own pleasures before Regent duties steal his attention.”

Alicent blinks and her eyes lose that sweet attempt at being comforting, instead, something else flickers within that makes her eyes dull and her lips droop to a long forming frown.

“He has really jumped into his role as Regent hasn’t he?” She mutters and takes a step back. “He would be so quiet at meetings with Aegon, now…” she trails off and pauses whilst her eyes search the white tree behind you. “He's…different. Colder.”

You take in her words to try and find the fault she clearly sees, but you find nothing. “Well…we are in a time of war. He needs to be hard so people listen, a gentle voice makes them too lenient and carefree like Lord Jason Lannister.”

Alicents eyes snap to you and the corner of her lips twitch with discontent, yet she doesn’t give up.

“Does that mean having to kick his own mother out of the Small Council?” She now blurts, making you stiffen only because it’s awkward and something she should talk about with anyone else but you.

“If it’s any consolation, the decision wasn’t easy to make,” you reveal, causing her eyebrows to briefly meet in the middle as she’s slightly surprised by the words you admit. But then her expression changes as she’s proven right.

“I see,” she mumbles and drifts her eyes away for a moment before she lifts her head up high to slowly look at you with this desperation that makes her eyes wide and glisten as if she wants to lure you in.

“You and Aemond are close, I see that. I have always seen it since you were children, but now that you’re married, now that you have a family of your own it seems that connection has only grown,” she rolls out of her tongue. “I’m glad that he has someone he loves, a best friend with a key to his heart. He needs that now more than ever.”

You blink and slowly figure her out. Those sweet words, and that thing she’s doing with her eyes.

“He needs someone to keep him calm, someone to make him see reason,” she continues to ramble. “And I’m glad that it’s you. You’re gentle just like your mother. You have reason. And you’re smart.”

And once again she’s proving that she does not know you. The way you are is a reason why your mother was also hesitant to let you fight, like Jacaerys you’re quick to upset, so you suppose you get that from her.

“You have to be his reason, you have to be like a voice in his head, and I know it’s not always easy but you are the only one with access to his heart—”

“And I have no means of changing it,” you cut off her rambling while looking at her with discontent and disapproval. “He can’t be on his ass, or be some lenient Regent who lets people walk over him. He has to put his foot down; he has to get his hands dirty. We’re at war. You see that, you have lost a soul because of this war, do you want to lose more?” You snap at her in defense of Aemond.

“I will interfere when I can,” you admit but that doesn’t offer her peace of mind, instead she grows more upset. “But I won't bend him at the will of anyone just so he can what? Give you your seat back on the Small Council?”

Alicent swallows back nervously and drags in a deep breath that makes her chest rise high. When she lets the breath go it comes out shaky and her eyes now glisten because she’s being attacked.

Yet she doesn’t let herself be defeated just yet; she holds your gaze and tries to jab back. “I wonder if you will say the same thing in regards to him hurting more of your family? Or do you say this now because it benefits you?”

Your jaw clenches and your anger is quickly summoned, but you’re also quick to reel it back to respond with an icy demeanor that works to intimidate her more than your anger would.

“Have you ever been in love?” You catch her off guard with your question, and as you see that you give her a moment to collect herself and gather her thoughts.

Albeit her lips part and she doesn’t answer, her eyebrows knit together and she looks at you troubled, as if the question itself is physically tolling.

You see that so answer for her. “I will take that as a no, so I will explain it to you,” you continue with a hint of cockiness behind every word. “I tried hating Aemond, I did. I told him that, but…no matter what he did, I can’t muster myself to. I can’t even muster a smidge of hate. Even when I’m mad at him he’s such a relief to see, does that make me foolish? Maybe. Maybe I am foolish for loving someone who killed my brother, but…” you trail off and swallow back thickly.

“My heart sings for him, for every part of him. The bad parts, and especially the good ones. That’s what love is. It’s loving every part of them. It’s not about changing them to your will, you can guide them, and help them, but why would you want to change who they are? If you’re going to be with someone, it's because you love who they are. Why would you be with someone that you want to change?”

Alicent blinks repeatedly and tries hard to fight the tears brought by defeat and guilt.

“I see who Aemond is turning out to be,” you try to be understanding. “I see his anger, but don’t you see that he’s always been like that? Deep inside it’s who he is, who was made to be. And he’s not all bad, he just can’t express his desperation to keep his family safe, don’t you see that? He’s not only working for my son and me but for you and Helaena. So no…I won’t change him. I love him. I love who he is. I love all of him,” you say those last words tenderly and it almost works to convince her that it will all be fine, but you see it, she’s still scared of him, of who’s coming out of the shadows.

And maybe soon you will change your mind, he will do things that will make you change your mind, but right now you believe every word that comes out of your mouth. You love him with all of yourself. You love all of him.

“We’re at war, Alicent, we have to be ruthless. Us, more than anyone because we’re women. Learn that,” you offer her a piece of advice and take a deep breath before you walk away from her, catching Helaena approaching the Godswood.

“Your Grace,” you greet her and curtsy.

Helaena curtsy back. “Your Grace,” she says back with a tiny smile. “You are Regent now.”

You scoff in amusement and see her pass her focus to Alicent. “Mother,” she greets. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

You shake your head. “No, we just got done talking.”

Helaena hums and her eyes drift back to you. “I was hoping we could take a stroll to talk. Are you busy?”

You beam at her and shake your head. “Nope, the rest of my day is open, so I’m all yours,” you assure her and skip over to her to fall at her side and guide her away. Yet before she can walk with you she bids her mother a goodbye.

“I will see you later.”

Alicent offers her daughter a sweet smile and redirects a short goodbye, letting Helaena then give most of her attention to you, and little attention to where you walk. And it’s good that she does because the truth is, you don’t pay much mind to where you walk, you just walk with your shadows trailing behind you.

“Have you thought of any names for the twins?” Helaena wanders.

You clasp your hands behind you and sigh. “I have thought of them, but I am still indecisive.”

Helaena hums and then turns her head to look at you with excitement. “When I was expecting the twins I was really eager to think of names. I remember. So perhaps I can give you some ideas, like, Shiera, or Gael for girls and for boys maybe Laenor, like your father.”

You blink repeatedly and a sweet and tender smile spreads on your lips. “Yes, I think Laenor would be a perfect name…if I have a boy…you don’t happen to know do you?” You try and probe, making her look away and lose herself in the distance.

“No,” she says thoughtfully. “My dreams…well…I can’t really conjure up what to dream. Do you understand? It all just comes when it wants.”

You follow her line of gaze and hum in comprehension. “It must be heavy. Knowing so much stuff, I mean.”

Helaena blinks and her eyes fall to her hands. “Well…I have had them since I can remember, so the weight is not something I feel anymore.”

You look at her with slight pity, but she looks at you with a very faint smile. “But that’s why I like going on dragonback, I feel free in a lot of ways when I’m in the sky with Dreamfyre. That’s why I liked it when we went flying together. Will we be able to fly together soon, do you think?”

You see the hope clinging to her eyes. You see the desire to have something not tainted by this war. And it makes it hard to be honest, but you can’t lie either. “I hope so. I miss flying without worrying that I’ll hit the blockade, or run into armies of men ready to shoot down my dragon, or me,” you don’t avoid the truth, even as bleak as it sounds.

“Maybe once this war is over and we don’t have to worry about coming across angry people, then we can fly as freely as we want and land on a small Island where we can swim, and watch the sunset. Now that our children have dragons of their own,” you muse with a grin.

Yet Helaena fails to mirror that hopeful joy, or any joy at all, her eyes remain downcast, but this time a small frown curls on her lips and her eyebrows knit together.

“Are you…okay?” You press carefully, gaining her immediate attention as if caught by surprise.

“Yes,” she answers bluntly.

You search her gaze, but like many times before, you can’t read her. You wish you could, you wish you could know all that she knows but you also know that if you did your mind would collapse with all that knowledge, and it would probably cease to exist. So you leave it untouched and leave it up to her to share what she wants or deems significant.

Thus you move on to a peaceful silence you both don’t mind being wrapped in. There does come times when you comment something to each other, but it’s never heavy, it’s lighthearted to be able to escape from the wrath and find peace with each other.

There’s also never a sign of a grudge from her since you are Regent now. She actually thanks you for taking the attention away from her and says if she could, she would give you the title to return to her humble living as a princess. But she can’t do such a thing so she gives you her thanks instead and adds that she’s also grateful that she feels tranquil when you’re with each other, causing you to think that if you had a sister you would want her to be as gentle and sweet as Helaena.

Actually, Helaena is like a sister to you. She might be older than you, but she feels like a little sister you must protect at all costs. You want to shield her from this terrible world the same way you want to shield your little brothers.

She’s too fragile and good for this world, you want to protect her from that, but you also want her to fight, to grow thorns like a fragile rose so she’s not so easily plucked. But alas you know a lot of people can’t and aren’t like that and that’s okay too. You’ll protect her regardless, you’ll be the thorns to her rose. A fire a dragon breathes, and the sharp teeth they bear. Just for her.

——

*LATER*

Whilst on your stroll with Helaena, you found yourself near the roofs where Aemond and you would escape to when you were kids, where all you had at that moment was each other's company, and you couldn’t stop thinking of those sweet moments when everything was much more simple. Maybe that’s why later that same day you found yourself sitting on the roof watching the sun set so peacefully as if it doesn't hide tragedy on its horizon, and hoping that you could still grasp onto those simple times even if you know they’re nothing but a memory now.

“Aren’t you cold?” A soft voice cuts in through the chilly air. “With your back exposed like that?”

You must have summoned Aemond with your mind, or perhaps you just missed each other when you came up to the roofs and he went to your chambers.

“Beauty is pain,” you remark with a cheeky grin. “You of all people should know that. Tell me, how painful is it being so beautiful?” You lull out cheekily, and when you look over your shoulder you catch a rosy blush on his cheeks that makes you grin and feel accomplished.

“No, but really,” you scoff and look back at the bleeding sunset. “I don’t mind it much.”

“Is it that warm flesh of yours?” He quips but also wonders out of curiosity.

You sigh deeply and wait until he’s sitting by you before you shake your head. “No. I just don’t mind the cold because I prefer less constrictive gowns. Why?” You roll out and tilt your head to the side to look at him with a pressing gaze. “Am I exposing myself too much for your liking husband?”

Aemond rolls his eye but doesn’t actually argue to prove you wrong.

“It’s not like what I say will stop you from wearing what you like,” he mutters to the part of the sky that’s already littered with stars.

“Nope,” you deadpan. “And it doesn’t seem like you mind them much when you’re gawking at me.”

Aemond scoffs and you look over at him with a smirk twitching on your lips. He then slowly drifts his eyes over to you and a smirk flashes on his lips before he smiles shyly at the book that you barely notice on his lap.

“I find you beautiful in everything you wear,” he says, making you giggle and drop your head on his shoulder—“I just don’t like when other people gawk. Like my uncle.”

“Your uncle is older than my mother,” you comment. “And thinks he’s younger than he is…no offense or anything.”

Aemond doesn’t argue in his uncle's defense so you continue.

“Don’t worry about anyone. I will only have eyes for you, and I will only be yours,” you finish in a whisper.

Aemond remains quiet and just presses a kiss on the top of your head without moving his lips away after that moment. He keeps his lips and nose nuzzled against your head and now admires the same blazing horizon you do, going unaware of your current desire to grasp at some reminder of the simple times to relive them just for a little bit. You want to live back in those moments for a while, you long for it, but you also figure out that it’s something that you can’t fight to get back. You can only reminisce and live through what life has to offer you now.

“Aemond,” you whisper shakily and want to pull away to meet him in the eye, but you’re also afraid of what you’ll see, so you stay as you are and watch as the horizon gets distorted with tears that build in your eyes. “Are you scared…of me? Of what I can do?”

Right away he sees that any hesitation will make you doubt and make you question everything about yourself, so he answers right away without an ounce of deceit. “No, should I be?”

You shake your head lightly and whisper. “No. I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not,” he presses so you can finally cement that in your heart and stop overthinking.

“Good,” you whisper that to yourself before you finally decide to touch on the unspoken subject. “I would have said something if I knew what I was, or why I can’t be hurt by fire. I’ve been trying to look into it, but I cannot find anything. I wanted to find what I could be before I told anyone so I didn’t seem mad. Do you understand?”

Aemond hums and lingers in his silence before he pulls away and pushes the book towards you. “It was one of my father's books Aegon had stashed.”

You look at Aemond with awe because that’s all that befalls you at that very moment as you come to realize that he’s been trying to read more into what you could be, or what could have led to you being immune to fire.

You didn’t even ask him to do it.

“I could not find much, I’m sure there’s something in Dragonstone, or somewhere lost in the world, but what I did find…” he continues to make your heart dance, and your love for him to grow. “…was that our Valyrian ancestors would practice blood magic in Old Valyria, I’m sure it came from something magic-related.”

You scoff and finally tear your eyes off him to look at the pages you flip through. “So I’m cursed?”

“No,” Aemond quickly scoffs and looks at the pages you’re going through. “You are not hurt by fire, I would not call that being cursed. I think it makes you special,” he speaks softly and full of fascination, and as soon as you catch that oozing off his voice you stop flipping through the pages and slowly look at him with relief, disbelief, and just utter awe that he doesn’t shame you and proves what you saw that night right.

He sees you. He knows you’re something so much more, something important and that can mean so much.

Albeit at this very moment he is averting your gaze out of timidness, proving Alicent’s fears wrong. He’s no monster, and it’s sad that she thinks that.

“You think so?” You still ask for reassurance.

Aemond’s gaze lingers on the page before he slowly meets your gaze with a soft smile and adoration that makes his blue eye soft and easy to get lost in. “I know it. I’m certain of it.”

Your heart flutters, causing your lips to tremble as happy tears fill your eyes.

Sure perhaps if you confided in your mother or someone else you trust they too would say a variation of the same thing, but there’s something about not having to tell Aemond, about him discovering it for himself that makes this so much more special, and so much more tender. If only you knew what was really rushing through his mind, you would have probably collapsed or had some heart attack.

And he wants to tell you every feeling that’s making his heart mad with more love and lust, but he keeps it all in to avoid sounding mad to you. He doesn’t want you to think he’s mad, even if you probably wouldn’t, he doesn’t tell you how special you both are because he rides the largest dragon and you have fire-made flesh.

You both are Regents now too. You are both ruthless, you are both called for greater deeds, you both are greater than those below you, and you are one in the same now. He used to think that before but now…now you are one.

That’s what he thinks…

“I’m glad you think so,” you mumble and reach your hand over to cup his jaw and caress his cheek with your thumb as you just relish in how grateful you are that he understands and that he looks at you with admiration and love rather than fear.

“And thank you for trying to look for an answer,” you add. “It means a lot.”

He brings his hand up to cup yours and caresses your knuckles while he just stares at you in awe.

“You are special,” he makes it clear to you and your dancing heart swooning for him. “You always have been special to me.”

You lean in but don’t press your lips against his right away. You stop to smile in relief first before you close that distance with a slow and passionate kiss that you both find sync in quickly and move like you’re starving for each other's taste.

It’s no wonder why you came out with a child 4 months after having your first son. Neither of you can keep your hands off each other, or keep your lips from molding into each other. And now with you both being regent and the discovery of this gift, you find a new and hotter vigor for each other.

Yet neither of you get carried away right then at that moment. You pull away after a while to catch your breaths and press your forehead against his to avoid losing contact.

Rather than basking in the silence that the night has to offer on the roofs, you find words to share through your heavy breaths. “Will you let me fight now? I don’t want to be sitting here waiting to hear news. I want…I want to fight on my dragon. I don’t have to fight on the ground, just let me be on Astraea. We can help. Please,” you beg and stroke his cheek.

Aemond licks his lips and peels away to meet your waiting gaze. He parts his lips, but nothing comes out but hesitation that you quickly rebuttal

“At least when we’re together then,” you try to lure him to agree. “So you can be there if anything does happen. Please. I won’t get burnt, you know that. I will wear armor. And Astraea will keep me safe.”

Aemond’s eye drifts down to your belly, so you grab his hand and press it against you. “We will be fine,” you insist. “I will be fine.”

Aemond looks up at you and clenches his jaw as he stares hard, but after a while, he sighs and gives you his answer. “Fine.”

You flash him a beaming grin before you throw your arms around him and thank him by whispering in his ear over and over again.

“Any sign of any greater danger and you’re out do you understand?” He makes sure to let you know harshly. “I will throw you over my shoulder or have you taken like you’re captive, do you understand? I am not risking your life.”

You chuckle and pull your head back but keep your arms wrapped around him to assure him. “I understand.”

Aemond groans and you give him a peck on his lips and mutter against them. “”

Aemond holds your gaze and pouts with discontent because you just completely defeated him, but you don't care, you brush him off to steal another kiss from him, causing him to pull away.

You ignore his frustration and flash him a smug smile before you push the book away to shift around and lay on your back with your head on his lap to be able to look up at the stars that paint the night sky. Now you know that you can’t stay up here forever, no matter how much you want to avoid this war, but there’s nothing wrong with stealing a moment for yourselves under the twinkling stars, and the bright full moon.

“I’m here,” you start to reminisce. “And I can’t help but think about how I wanted to escape. How I wanted to be somewhere else…” you trail off and Aemond rests his hand on your arm that you sling over your chest. “And if you told me that you wanted to leave right now, I would grab Aerion and I would leave with you,” you admit, making him steal a glance at you.

“But,” you add. “I like to think I have matured out of that desperate desire.”

There’s nothing Aemond can really say in response, there’s nothing you want him to say so you appreciate his silence before you finally tear your eyes away from the stars that kept you captive, and look at him with a hint of sadness, but also like you’re somewhere far.

“Do you want to know what else I dreamed about when I would find myself alone here…or anywhere?”

Aemond hums to probe so you do just that, you continue softly, ever so feathery, enchantingly so. “I would dream of being Queen.”

It’s something you knew you wanted. It’s something he knew you almost had.

it was there at your reach, but it was taken away. You have never admitted it to him, your deepest desire until now. “I wanted the power,” you say like you’re reciting the most beautiful poem. “Did that make me selfish? Power-hungry? No, I never thought of it that way because I deserved it.” You nod softly and he looks deep into your soul with a softening gaze. “It was my destiny. I wanted to be like Good Queen Alysanne, like Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror. I dreamt of it, I pictured myself as Queen. I wanted to be good, I imagined I would be even though it could never be mine.”

You sigh shakily and look up at the sky as if you’re searching for that dream again amongst the stars.

“As I got older that desire turned to anger and resentment, but I was taught not to be angry about it and many things. And I was never angry at my mother or my brother, I was angry at the people who said that I couldn’t have it. I am still angry to this day. It’s deep inside me, but I still am because they took it,” you sneer but not with a loud rage, you are still soft-spoken, like you’re more sad than angry.

“And they made me feel weak,” you say between a grimace and a tremble in your voice, which Aemond catches. He catches every emotion, he’s captivated by every word and stuck on the tears that roll down your cheeks.

“They made me feel like I didn’t belong,” you continue. “Because if I’m the oldest and not my mother's heir then why? Why am I here? They…made me feel like I needed to prove myself to be something every day of my life…” you trail off and he finds tears creeping in his eye too. He finds that his throat stings because he felt what you did too when he had no dragon. Even now when he does, that need to prove himself still lingers just like it does in you.

“I understand,” he admits above a whisper, pulling your teary eyes back to him to look deep into his soul that cries as it feels understood, and as you prove to him that you are one in the same. That you were always meant to burn together—“I understand the feeling.”

You sit up and cup his cheek to wipe away his stray tear, and he mirrors your actions to wipe away the tears that roll down your own cheeks.

“But now I ride the biggest dragon,” he continues with a ferocity that he was quick to find. “And you,” he muses. “You are not hurt by fire. You are unburnt. We are Regents. We have the power, we do not need to prove anything to anyone. Not anymore. The world is ours now. We don’t have to be belittled by it anymore.”

You offer him an admiring smile and shake your head. “I don’t need the world to be mine,” you confess. “I have you, Aerion, my dragon, and the twins. That’s all I need. I am content. That’s my fight now. The power as Regent is an added bonus, I like it and if I were to have more I would make the most of it, but I am content now with you, and the little blessing you gave me.”

Aemond parts his lips, but he’s at a loss for words. All he can continue doing is admire you; your divine beauty, the sweet smile on your perfect lips, the tears that still trail down your perfectly sculpted face, and the love and awe in your eyes that make them gleam beautifully.

He really wants to say something, but he’s left knowing that all that he is, all that he wants to be, and all that he wanted to be, exists there with you.

He exists only for you, for his son, for his mother and sister, but you hold a special place in his heart because you continue to see him. You understand his conflicted soul more than anyone and he appreciates that understanding, and thanks it with kisses, with deep and passionate kisses that lead to neither of you wanting to part. They engulf you both with desire that takes you back to your chambers where you demand to be alone even if that sends your son away to different chambers.

Your passion drives you mad with lust and with the need to please each other in different ways. Your heated passion leaves you unsatisfied after one round and makes you want more and more until you're both exhausted, but completely full and happily satisfied.

Sleep came to be quite minimal after. Your days start earlier now, but you both found yourselves awake so you filled the silence while you waited for the day to get started for you.

He mostly complained though, but you don’t mind. You like that he shares his complaints with you.

“Lord Jason is just scared, it’s normal,” you try to ease the crease that forms between his brows. “He’s never fought a war, he’s scared.”

Aemond shakes his head and parts his lips to argue but you cut him off to get your point across. “With that said, am I excusing how lazy he’s being? No. He’s being too lenient and not taking it as seriously as he should. The boost in power has gotten to his head.”

Aemond sighs deeply and mutters. “He's only head of the army because of his brother, I would have chosen someone else for the job, someone who doesn’t need me to go to his rescue to get the job done sooner.”

You stop tracing circles on the mattress and snicker before you tilt your head up to steal a glance at Aemond. “I hear he’s taken lions with him,” you add with a teasing smile growing on your lips. “What exactly are they supposed to do?”

Aemond crosses his arms over his bare chest and mutters. “They want to be like us. They want to rule the land because they see we rule the sky.”

You shift your head down on your palm and giggle. “Them and their golden lions are funny. They believe their golden lions are like our dragons, but they can’t stand on the clouds, they roll in the dirt and call those clouds.”

Aemond chuckles, and as you lay on your side with your head resting on your propped-up hand, you slide your hand over his torso. “With a lion, if you turn your back, they dig their claws in you, no matter how long you’ve raised them. With dragons, you bond with them and they will forever be bound to your soul, they are a part of your soul. So no matter how hard they all try, no house will ever reach us as long as our dragons live.”

Aemond hums, and you press your fingers on his torso before you slide them over and look up with a slightly narrowed look. “That’s why you need to remind this Lord Lion that he’s no one to be ordering you or anyone else around. If he’s a coward who needs a security blanket to fight then tell him you will find someone else who can.”

“And if Daemon does decide to meet them in battle?” Aemond does let you hear some of his doubt, and as possible as it is, you doubt he will. At least you hope he won’t, there’s other battles to fight with Caraxes, it doesn’t seem like he’d be bothered to fight against Lord Jason unless they’re desperate or want an easy win.

“Then he meets them, but I doubt that Daemon will bother to fight any Lannister army. If it was Ser Criston then yes, I would say you should worry, but it’s not, so I would not give it a second thought. He'll send another army to fight for him.”

Aemond nods gently in comprehension and you stare at him for a lingering moment with a growing smile before you climb up the bed to be face to face. “Will you miss me at today's small council meeting?”

Aemond lazily hangs his arm over your waist and glances down at your lips. “Well, I’ll have to be stuck staring at old men and toads so yes.”

You laugh and query. “Toads?”

“Lord Larys.”

You snort and smack his shoulder. “That’s…true,” you wanted to say it was rude but as you think about it now it’s true. “Well,” you roll out and scale your fingers up to caress his chest. “If you ever miss me throughout the day just come to our quarters I’ll be here all day getting my braids done.”

Aemond huffs softly and can’t help but cup your cheek, the same cheek that bears the scar he made six years ago, and hovers his thumb over the scar before he gently trails it.

“Just remember,” you speak softly and grab his hand. “Clear mind Aemond. Don’t let your anger blind you. I know sometimes the men around you can be irritating and all you want to do is lash out, but anger doesn’t work in this situation. It doesn’t work when it comes to planning, okay? Clear mind and hold your anger back for this, hm?”

Aemond doesn’t say anything in return, he just presses a kiss on the heel of your hand and you take that as a comprehensive response.

Not so much later Vanessa, Aerion’s wetnurse, and servants barge in and your lax morning is upturned to a rowdy morning and you know your day has kickstarted. No more rest, and there’s only a little privacy while you break fast, but that serenity is cut short soon thereafter by Aerion crying. At least this morning you could stomach—or the twins felt like letting you eat so you really take that as a positive first step of a good day. Or as good as a day can be nowadays.

Can you say the rest of the day you're going through is bad? No, mostly because when you’re in your chambers sometimes it feels like the day passes over you. The news doesn’t come to you right away, and since you aren’t going out of your way to seek it you have to wait for it to come to you. You live in a little bubble when days like today are spent surrounded by the four walls of your quarters. Do you mind it?

Not today. You enjoy basking in the obliviousness, you enjoy the escape, the serenity as Vanessa takes her time to carefully braid your white hair whilst you pass golden cuffs, and pearls that hang from rings so she can put them in your hair.

She doesn’t tug too harshly, she’s gentle, slow, and very intricate with each braid, and each placement of the pearls, and the cuffs, that you could fall asleep. Actually, sometimes you do find yourself dozing off while you’re reading, but mostly you sit in the serenity that obliviousness brings.

“Perhaps soon I can wear that gown from Yi-Ti, the sea green one that looks blue under certain lights?” You ask for an opinion. “That one is my favorite because of the black chest piece that comes with the cloak. It’s very…exquisite, and the embroidery on the sleeves and all the golden accessories it comes with,” you swoon. “I wish I lived there, I would need a castle just for my wardrobe!”

“You should see how they dress when the summer is at its peak,” Ser Jason cuts into the conversation. “The silks are truly…silk.”

You snort and look at him through the mirror as he puts down books you needed from the library, but couldn't get at this very moment.

“You’ve been to Yi-Ti?” You muse and get tempted to turn around, but Vanessa would scold you for moving so you just stare at the knight in awe and envy.

Ser Jason’s eyes flicker to the ground and he hesitates before he nods gently. “Yes, not long, but I’ve been at the peak of summer.”

Your smile slowly grows to a grin and you probe because that’s all you can do. “Is it as they say? Is it really so beautiful? Are there golden castles?”

Ser Jason chuckles and shakes his head as he keeps avoiding eye contact and stands incredibly still. “No, those are just tall tales, but they do have a lot of gold. Statues, the peak of roofs, and tapestries lined with beautiful golden threads that almost look like rich gold. And the food,” he sighs as if recalling the taste in his mouth.

“It’s otherworldly,” you let him keep filling your head with tales of his life, a life you wish you could live just to see those wonders he got to see with his own eyes. “I…I would love to describe it, but there’s truly no words I could use to describe how all those flavors dance on one's tongue.”

You nod gently and hope for more, but he looks at you through the mirror and falters. That confidence he garnered to speak of those marvels is lost and he’s reverted back to his stammering and timidness. “Of course, you…you should go witness it all for yourself. You would love it.”

That wonder twinkling in your eyes dims and your smile is not as sweet. “It’s easier said than done sadly. I have jewelry with rare gems from Yi-Ti, I have gowns made with their rich fabrics and designed by their creative minds, but that’s how far I go.”

“You'd think with all the money and privilege you wouldn’t let them tell you how to live your life,” he dares to say, causing your second sworn protector to peek his head inside after what he overheard, while you and Vanessa stiffen and look at the sudden bold knight.

“One would think,” you hit back and catch his eyes widening in shock as if he did not actually expect you to respond, or as if shocked about what came out of his mouth is true.

“But I am a woman, a princess, and the only daughter of a queen, my life has been planned since the moment I was born,” your voice goes hard and cold while your eyes express the same bitterness. “Stories and dreams are as far as I go.”

Ser Jason blinks repeatedly as his mouth is left agape. “I know women with just as much who left it all behind to find a lot more riches in accomplishing their dreams.”

Your eyes flicker to a glare, but tears break through as you slowly come to realize that all you have is dreams of grand places and grand adventures. There’s nothing you can do but dream again. He returns that cruel reminder to your mind.

“Thank you, Ser,” you dismiss him and avert your gaze so you don’t know how he reacts, you just know Ser Cane Clegane steps in to watch the knight walk out before closing the door and leaving Vanessa and you alone once again. Now though the serenity you once relished is a dream too.

“Princess,” Vanessa whispers with traces of pity, so you quickly shut her down.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about the plans Mysaria sent?” You abruptly change the subject to something you did not want to touch just yet but have to now. “Are they ready?”

Vanessa glances back and makes sure the door is closed before she stops braiding your hair and leans down to whisper. “All done. The food will be sent later tonight and should arrive in the morrow.”

Food. That’s the plan your mother has so far. It’s an excellent plan in response to all the hungry smallfolk just wanting food but getting scraps or worse from their King, and Regent.

The smallfolk will know who to thank and start to look at your mother with hope for a change, which means they will do as she wants and gain their love and support.

“We will make sure to keep away from the city tomorrow then,” you say and watch Vanessa back up to continue doing what she was doing. “It will be chaos.”

She hums and only seconds later the doors get thrown open and in comes your beloved husband in a huff.

“What is it?” You ask right away as you notice his nose is flared and his jaw is clenched.

He doesn’t look injured so it doesn’t seem like he got hurt at the training yard or anywhere else for that matter. He looks pissed though, so something is bothering him.

“It’s,” he heaves. “Aegon. He’s awoken.”

You blink in disbelief. “But,” you shake your head. “The maester said there was little chance he would wake.”

Aemond lets out a heavy breath and walks up to your vanity to lean against it so you’re able to face him and his contorted face.

“So he said, but…it seems my brother beat the odds. He fought for once,” he grumbles and drops his glare on his fiddling hands, so you give Vanessa a break before you lean forward and place your hands over Aemond’s cold but soft hands.

“He still can’t walk, or probably stay awake for that long for that matter,” you try to make his mind clear of all the thoughts rushing behind his eye and clouding his mind. “He won’t be that competent.”

Aemond watches his thumb brush over your fingers and whispers. “And what he did to you while I was away? Does he get away with that?”

You secure your hold on his hand and pull his gaze to you, letting you offer him an assuring smile. “He won’t be as he was ever again. That’s enough justice.”

Yet you aren’t completely satisfied yet, but that’s something Aemond can’t fulfill. You have to. You will.

“Is it?” He asks as if he can read the thoughts in your mind.

You offer him a small but assuring nod that he takes to heart. “It is.” You try to assure him, but neither him nor you are left satisfied. Yet that’s not something either of you share, you just individually know you will selfishly reach for that piece of justice yourselves because you won’t be left savoring even a piece of it.

——

*LATER*

Aemond has been caught up handling some business you don’t care about so you take advantage of being left alone and go visit your King, since he’s awake now. What a miracle!

You just want to check on him, on his wounds and mental state. You want to give him your best wishes so he can have a quick recovery. That’s all.

You tell that to his Kingsguard protecting his chambers, but it’s not like they had any say in letting you in or not. They’re hesitant, they make excuses that he’s going to take milk of the poppy and fall asleep again, but you don’t care. You walk in with your long beautiful gown flowing behind you, and a golden candle handler in your hand to light your way.

Oh, and when you walk in you don’t forget to continue humming a haunting and menacing song that sends a chill down the spines of the servants and the Maesters tending to Aegon, while the king himself is confused. One could say he felt like he was dreaming, your humming was faint at first, but the haunting melody still managed to swirl in his ear. Even as your silhouette was beginning to get conjured up on the curtains covering his bed, he did not expect you to appear out of your own will.

Thus when the sheer curtains are slowly pulled to the side and you appear there like some haunting ghost, he still does not think you're real.

“Leave us,” you cut your humming off to demand the maesters and the servant girls away.

“But—” a maester tries to argue, but you snap your eyes to him and shoot him a menacing glare that shuts him up and makes him bow his head.

“I will give him the milk of the poppy,” you add to reassure the maester while you return your eyes to Aegon.

Once you know that the maesters and the servant girls are gone, you start humming again, but this time much more softer than before, making Aegon more convinced that you’re haunting his dreams.

He does watch you walk to him slowly with your eyes fixated on his flared scars still red and raw, but all he knows for sure is that his breathing is picking up while goosebumps crawl down his spine as he also feels captivated. Even more so when you come to a stop just under the moonlight that reflects inside his quarters.

The bright light completely captures you in its soft hue. It makes the golden cuffs, and the golden rings holding the pearls in your hair, glimmer, while your long silver-white hair itself almost gleams like thousands of pristine diamonds. And perhaps that's your only intention, just presenting yourself, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if you intend to smile at him either, but you do and his chambers now are completely silent, striking more fear to his heart.

Yet he still thinks he’s dreaming.

“Did it hurt?” You fill the silence with your question and study the part of his face that now is forever scared because of the dragonfire that feasted on his flesh.

“I have always wondered,” you continue in a sweet voice while you tilt your head up just slightly to look at the bald spot that now leaves part of his head naked. “I can gladly say that I have never been hurt by fire,” you reveal and bring your eyes back down to meet his gaze while you let your fingers graze the flames that you hold on your candles.

“I have never winced at the touch of candle fire, boiling water has never scolded my skin or my tongue. And never have I once been bothered by hearths or pyres whose flame grows too wild. So,” you roll out and take a seat beside him on the bed. “I always have wondered what it’s like to feel hurt by fire like you were.”

A smirk tugs on your lips and he realizes at this instant as the candlelight shows off your smirk, that this is no dream. You’re actually at his bedside looking at him the same way Aemond looked at him earlier today, like Aegon was nothing, like he wasn’t still king. You're looking at him as if was pathetic and nothing but someone to take pity on; he can see those thoughts playing behind your eyes and on the corner of your lips.

You were sitting, but you now cast a shadow over him that made his cower. The same way he made you feel not long ago when he visited your chambers while Aemond was gone.

But that was your intention, that’s why you’re here. You have the power now, it doesn’t matter if he’s king. You have the power and he knows it, he sees that darkness in your eyes the same way he saw it in Aemond’s eye.

“I would say it’s like drowning. You have that need to fight to survive, but,” you click your tongue and lean towards him, making him swallow back nervously and attempt to scoot away, but to no avail. He can’t move a muscle. “When the fire is eating away at your flesh I can’t imagine you can move all that much. You must be paralyzed, cut away from every message your head sends to your screaming muscles, hoping that your adrenaline can be your salvation, but all it can do is give you the power to cry and scream out your pain. Is that right, Aegon?” You direct the question at him and look at him not with curiosity but with a mocking look.

“Le…”

“Ah-ah,” you click your tongue and drag yourself closer to him to shush him. “Don’t waste your energy. It’s okay.”

You flash him another smile and hold his gaze as you push the melting candles toward his already scarred flesh, making him gasp and start to heave.

“I just want to see,” you mutter. “Maybe hear you whimper just a little to know what it’s like, you know? Live it through someone else.” You chuckle.

“Crazy bitch,” he manages to say and you slowly grin and manage to get the flames close to his skin, to the point the heat stings. Yet before the fire can actually give him a peck you pull the candles away and just keep smiling at him.

“It was a jest,” you giggle and slither your fingers up to play with the flames. “Laugh. You like jests don’t you?”

He wants to curl his lips to a scowl, but his lips just twitch in some feeble attempt.

“Hm. Well, that’s all,” you end his torture and push yourself to your feet.

Before you can walk out though, you put the candle stand down on the bedside table and grab the milk of the poppy.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you interject and twirl around. “You are going to be an uncle to twins, is that not great? We’re hoping for girls now since we have our boy…” you trail off and lean towards him to bring the milk of the poppy to his lips. “…our heir.”

Aegon lips part to attempt to argue, but you take that as a need for his sedative, so you bring the cup to his lips and help him drink the milk of the poppy. Once the cup is empty you pull away and replace it with the candle stand.

“Goodnight, Aegon. Sweet dreams,” you tease and twirl back around to leave his chambers, but not without continuing to hum your haunting song that you make sure to travel with until you know that the king or his guards will hear you. After you put some distance and your humming doesn’t echo in their ears anymore you return to the safety of your chambers in silence.

After that, you hoped not to run into Aemond, or find him in your chambers. You just don’t want to be bombarded with questions, that’s all.

Nevertheless, luckily Aemond doesn’t join you in your shared quarters until several minutes later, so you’re spared. And since you were donning your nightgown by the time he walked in he didn’t even know you had just returned either, so unknowingly both of your visits to Aegon are unspoken of, you just individually relish in the torment you gave him. Which honestly doesn’t paint you as the most sane couple or people at all, but at least now your hunger for justice is satisfied.

That’s what lets you both actually find a peaceful sleep, that little win.

Little wins are all the rage in times like now, so you cherish them. Even if they’re small and insignificant. Even if they have nothing to do with war and battle and have everything to do with your day-to-day lives, you cherish them. You cherish good mornings too, simple ones.

Happiness is even simple when you’re not taking it for granted, and when you know where to find it, like, waking up and having Aemond lay his head on your belly in an attempt to be closer to the twins, or in Aerion tugging at Aemond’s hair and fighting him to actually copy his father and lay on you instead since he understands more now that he’s 5 months old.

You can find happiness in Aemond’s faint proud smiles as he hears his son try and talk to him. In gentle kisses and sweet compliments he passes you, or something minimal like agreeing on something at the Small Council meetings which in turn overshadows the men around the table. You can even find happiness after the meetings in matters such as names for the babes that still have a ways to go before they’re born.

Does he raise a complaint though? No. He’s not needed at this precise moment so he lets you steal his time.

“If they’re boys, Aemon,” you say right away and make him blink with surprise. “Like his father. Just without the last letter so it’s not confusing.”

The corner of his lips tugs wider as he lets out an amused huff.

“And the second boy's name…well…”

“Maegor?” Aemond tries to end your sentence, but you glare at him and shake your head.

“No!” You chuckle. “No, I am not naming our son Maegor. Do you want the gods to spite us?” You ask the question in a whisper in the fear that the gods will hear you saying such a name.

Aemond snickers and leans forward to press his hand on either side of your lap as you sit on the edge of the table, and he sits in his chair. “You believe that to be true? It’s just talk.”

You scoff and shake your head again to get your point across. “Talk or not, I will not leave it to chance. Not when it comes to our children.”

Aemond hums and you slowly lower your gaze to bring up the name Helaena suggested, one you want. “What about Laenor?”

You feel his stare weighing down on you, but you can’t look him in the eye out of fear of rejection.

“My father was always good to you. We would go fishing together, and he would take you sailing with us…I do not know if you want,” you bring up different cases to try and convince him because you know how Alicent and those of the court viewed your father.

“All right,” Aemond doesn’t take time to think about it, he gives in and you slowly trail your eyes up to meet his gaze with relief and happiness.

“Really?” You query.

Aemond nods and you flash him a joyous smile.

“But,” he interjects and sits back with a lighthearted smile. “What if they’re girls or one of the other?”

You flash him a smirk and lean back on your hands. “Well, we have our first name…”

“Daenys,” you both say at the same time and you nod excitedly and beam at him.

He hums with a smile playing on his lips and you tilt your head to the side to share the other name. “And the second, Naerys. Or Daenerys. You can choose.”

“They’re the same thing,” he mutters and you scoff and lean towards him.

“No! No, they're different. Completely! But you can choose between the two.”

He rolls his eye and quips. “How generous of you.”

You shrug innocently. “I’ll even let you choose between all four if we get a boy and girl, hm? So pick!”

He hums and taps his fingers on the chair's armrest before he takes a deep breath and shares his choice. “Daenerys and Aemon.”

A pang of pain hits your heart and your smile falls, he watches you with a serious look that shows he’s being serious, so you sit up and look at him as if the answer actually hurt you. “What?” You mutter in disbelief. “But, my love.”

He raises an eyebrow and remarks. “You gave me the freedom to choose the name of our children. I chose.” He says and leaves his lips pouted as he waits for your argument.

But he is right…

“Well,” you grumble without hiding your disapproval. “Fine,” you deadpan and look down to fiddle with a gold bead that’s embroidered on your gown.

Aemond tilts his head to try and find your eyes but you keep turning your head further down so you miss the smirk that tugs on his lips as he sees you pout.

“It was jest,” he clarifies as he stifles his laugh, and leans forward to press his fists on the table.

You raise your head and snap your glare at him. “Ha. It was not funny.”

He snickers and you nudge his shoulder. “Daenys has been my top choice since we were kids. You know that.”

He grins and nods. “I remember. You bugged me about it hundreds of times.”

“Exactly,” you press with your eyebrows raised. “So?”

He unfurls his fists and slides his hand on your thigh to rub it with the gentlest touch. “Daenys and Aemon,” he now gives his honest choices.

You nod and can’t help but throw your arms around his neck since he’s already so close, and glance at his lips, but manage not to give into your temptation, instead you smirk and whisper. “Do you think Daenys and Aemon will get into as much trouble as we did?”

He gently slides his hand up your thigh before he swings his arm around your waist and quips. “You got in trouble, not me. I was there to try and get you out of trouble, or danger.”

The corner of your lips spread up and bliss glimmers in your eyes. “Okay, but you did not discourage me.”

He narrows his gaze and counters. “I did, many times. You did not listen.”

You giggle and loll your head to the side, making his eyes follow your lips moving before he flickers his gaze back up.

“Well then Daenys and Aemon will learn to be better at avoiding trouble,” you rebuttal, making him scoff and not hold back anymore. He leans in for the kiss and you let him mold his lips into yours while you wrap your arms around his neck.

As he deepens the kiss he trails his hand away from your waist and agonizingly slowly drifts his hand down your hips, and then down the length of your thigh to hike your skirt up and slither his hand under to now slide his warm palm up your thigh, leaving a blazing trail that makes you press yourself closer to him to the point your chests meet with all the breaths you take.

You want him to touch you where your body aches for him the most, but he instead grabs your hips with both hands and with a swift and fluid motion slides you off the edge of the table to make you straddle his hips.

“Aemond,” you chuckle between heavy breaths, and he responds with a cheeky smirk before closing the small gap between your lips as if it were impossible to live for a second longer without the taste of your lips.

Yet no matter how hot your passion blazes, that is suddenly snuffed out by a knock on the door. Which you should’ve seen coming, you are in the Small Council chambers, but that doesn’t matter to Aemond, he still gets frustrated.

“What?” He seethes.

You can’t help your cocky smirk before you lean in and bite his bottom lip before moving over to sit on his lap to wait and watch who dared cut into your private moment.

When the intruder walks in though you see that it’s Ser Jason.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” he offers his condolences right away with a bow of his head. “I just received news,” he shares and brings his head up to display an almost terrified look. “A riot has started in the city where the Great Sept is, and Queen Helaena and the Dowager Queen are caught within.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and while you digest the news, Aemond basically rips away from his seat to try and go out to save them himself. However, no matter how rageful he is, or his thirst for blood, neither him nor you are allowed to run to their aid.

The smallfolk are angry, your mother and Mysaria’s plan worked. The smallfolk got the message that they were trying to get across and now they want an answer, justice for not getting treated right by the King ruling over them, the King who is supposed to feed them. And they have every right to be upset, to demand an answer for how poorly they’ve all been treated, but to take it out on Helaena? That’s something you can’t accept, that’s something that doesn’t sit right with you.

If only you had known that they planned to go to the city today, and you could’ve come up with some quick excuse to keep them inside. Anything to keep them from entering the wrath of the Smallfolk after they got the food from your mother. But you did not know, and now you can’t do anything to help Helaena but watch from a tall tower as a sea of people rush through the streets. All you’re left to do is wait, and hope that the Kingsguard can do their job, while your mind conjures up violent scenarios in response to your distress and…guilt.

Nevertheless, in response to your helplessness, and the panic that makes you breathe heavily, Astraea surprises you by flying over the tall tower Aemond and you stand on, and flying down, casting a large shadow over the streets of the city as she directs herself to the Great Sept, without as much as you needing to tell her a word.

And since she is large and her purple scales stand out against the sun, you see her swoop down on a building near the Great Sept. Albeit since you can't see what she sees, you miss the fact that she was quick to find Helaena and Alicent. You miss the warning shouts from the people who had caught her flying over in a hurry, but thanks to the calamity no one paid attention to the warnings, no pair of angry eyes caught even a glimpse of the purple dragon until her shadow cast over the crowd trying to tear at Alicent and Helaena.

Even then it's too late because by the time she lands on the edge of a building, Helaena and Alicent have been pushed against, Astraea is quick to react in defense of Helaena; the person your heart is crying over at the moment, the person you hope and pray is okay, and the person you love with all your heart.

There’s no doubt she’s there defending her because even from the tower Aemond and you stand on in the Red Keep, Astraea’s rageful roar is heard. And from where Helaena and Alicent are, her roar rattles the foundations of the buildings, it shakes the pebbles on the ground, and sets fear in the people who were just brave enough to go after the Queen and her mother.

Now those people who ran at the Queen, run away from the dragon ducking her neck and head down to shield her from any incoming danger. When someone ballsy enough tries to take a step close to Helaena, Astraea begins to snarl before she opens her mouth and snaps at them, coming close to actually taking a bite, but not managing to scrape them.

She just wanted to scare them, she wouldn’t actually bite anyone unless provoked by someone. She just has her guard up and is being protective. And she doesn’t lose that fierce need, she continues to bear her teeth until she spots Alicent rushing Helaena to the wheelhouse. After that Astraea hovers above the wheelhouse and doesn't part from them until she sees them go past the Red Keep gates because that’s the only time that you actually find relief.

After that Astraea circles the castle until you’re inside tending to a distressed Helaena, while her mother gets tended to as well, albeit she actually ended up getting cut, Helaena is just shaken up and a bit dirty, that’s all, but you still help her as you swallow back your guilt.

After all, you can’t control the Smallfolk, you can’t control their emotions. You just wish you would have known Alicent wanted to take Helaena into the city. That’s all.

“Do you want to know something?” You ask Helaena.

She hums and you share your thoughts while you wipe away the dirt her face collected in that riot. “I admire you for having twins. You were young too, I can’t imagine it was easy. I don’t know how you did it.”

Helaena’s eyes flicker to you and she looks at you seriously before she interjects bluntly. “I just had them.”

You stop what you’re doing and drop your gaze to look at her with slight disbelief before you snort softly and move behind her to undo her messed-up braids.

“I…will have to go thank Astraea,” Helaena speaks up much to your surprise, since up until now it was you who was trying to make conversation. “She protected me and my mother.”

You smile proudly. “We can go after this, how about that? She should be nestled up by the cove.”

Helaena nods gently, and the door proceeds to open, causing Helaena to ball her hands, and grow stiff after having a very hard time relaxing. Which is why you get ready to kick the intruder out, but you then come to see Aemond striding in.

“What is it? Have the rest of the Kingsguard returned?” You can’t help but ask as you grab the brush from the small table.

“All but one,” he says as he looks down at his sister unable to find that peace once again.

“Did you find out what exactly happened?” You act clueless whilst you start brushing Helaena’s hair. “What started the riot?”

Aemond walks over and chooses to lean against the couch to be able to occasionally meet your gaze when you’re not focusing on what you’re doing.

“It was Rhaenyra,” he says, causing chills to crawl down your spine at the sound of your mother’s name coming out of his mouth out of slight fear he will reveal that he knows the letters you have been sending her— “she sent food in boats which in turn made the people get mad at us. As if we’re the ones holding the blockade.”

You don’t give any other reactions besides comprehension and feigned disbelief, as if this is the first time hearing about your mother’s malicious plans.

“Well,” you sigh and pretend to breathe out a stressed-out breath at the mention of your mother. “We are the crown. We’re supposed to be taking care of them. How would you react if you could not feed your son because the people who are meant to protect you aren’t doing anything to break that blockade or feed them?”

Aemond’s gaze hardens, but you don’t back down, you challenge him and press your point so he can understand where their anger is coming from.

“They’re desperate, angry, and what my mother sent only fueled them to act out in the only way they would be heard,” you argue in their defense, making Aemond drop his head and shake it in disapproval.

“We’re trying,” he snaps and hastily brings his eye up, but you’re focused on brushing Helaena’s long hair so you just feel his burning glare.

“They do not know that,” you rebuttal. “We know that here, but they do not. Look I am not telling you what to do Aemond, I am just trying to make you see why they reacted the way they did.”

He hums and you finally drift your eyes up and watch him lose his gaze on the ground to try and collect all his thoughts on the matter and on what you just told him.

“I’m all done Helaena,” you direct your attention back to her and back away to give her space. “Why don’t you change into something different, finish your tea and when you’re done, or when you want, we can go see Astraea, hm?”

Helaena nods while you walk around her to face her with a gentle smile. “You’re okay now, okay? No one is going to hurt you here.”

Her distant blue eyes meet yours and you see her fear still clinging onto her, so you attempt your best to try and rid her of that agonizing fear. But you’re also careful, you know how she is, you know she doesn’t really like being touched, nor does she tolerate any loud noises. You also know she’s still rattled and a bit paranoid that the chaos will find her in her chambers, so you’re slow as you crouch to not trigger her. You let her know in a whisper that you’re going to grab her hands before you cradle them.

“You’re okay,” you make sure to say in a gentle and caring voice so she can feel assured, so she knows that you do care about her wellbeing.

“I know,” she nods stiffly and turns your hands around to study your palms for a moment before her thumb hovers over the ice burn you carry and reminds you of what you left behind.

“I will only leave until you assure me you’re fine,” you tell her.

She draws in a deep breath while stealing a glance at her brother behind you who is paying close attention to the gentle way you’re caring for her sister. He would say perhaps you’re coddling her too much considering her age, but he also appreciates that you don’t shame her for not being the fighting type. He likes that you’re so doting and sweet with Helaena.

While Helaena herself catches that appreciation in his eye as you hold his attention captive, and wonders how you must feel that he can’t share even an ounce of care for your own siblings. She actually wonders a lot about you when you plague her dreams, she wants to tell you all that she sees about you, you and Aemond, you and…your future, but her words don’t come easy, so she’s left silent and just staring hoping that somehow someone can read what she’s thinking.

She wishes you could see that she is indeed fine, but that doesn’t come easy either with her look still captured with fear, thus she looks back at you and gives you what you asked for. “I’m fine.”

You hesitate just in case she ends up changing her mind, but when she doesn’t follow up with a protest, you draw out a deep breath of your own and stand to your given height to step away from her. “We’ll be in the Red Keep and I’ll be waiting, okay?” You let her know, making her offer you a quick nod that seems like she’s brushing you off more than anything, but you and Aemond still leave and let her be.

And it’s only once the doors of her quarters are closed that you speak on the matter at hand. “What will you do with the Kingsguard?” You ask since Alicent said they escalated what was already happening. Or they gave the people an excuse to get violent.

“Aegon's friends are the ones who triggered the smallfolk to attack when one of them cut off a man’s arm,” he grumbles in frustration. “Which I can’t say surprises me, they have been incompetent since the start, they’ll serve better as dragon fodder, but alas, men of the Night's Watch are here, so I thought of having them banished there.”

“Hm, I think that’s an excellent response to their actions,” you praise his thought. “The Night's Watch is always in need of men, especially now that winter is around the corner.”

He hums and his eye then falls on you. At first, you don’t notice, don’t feel his stare because you’re in your own mind, but as your gaze drifts to the side you catch his stare before he can look away.

Any other time you would have brushed him off, but in contrast to that hard and blazing glare moments ago, now his eye is softer, and his blue eye isn’t clouded by the darkness of his anger.

“What?” You query.

He blinks and looks ahead before he mutters. “You just would have been good at it. Being Queen.”

Out of all the times you have confessed that dream, that desire to someone, the response is always the same. They always just take it as a passing thought, as a forgotten dream you just let them know about. Aemond is different though, he’s the first one to validate that desire, that forgotten dream still very much alive in the depths of your soul.

Is it in response to try and be something special in your mother’s eyes and those who forbid you from having such a dream become a reality? Who knows, but it still lingers there and he grasps onto it, and starts to pull it out of the abyss.

You know you shouldn’t keep dreaming, you should let go of his hand to let that dream fall back into the depths of the abyss where it will be forgotten once again, but…how can you let a hand go when it’s pulling you towards a glorious light?

A part of you wants to be free from the abyss, but as you’re blinded with clarity you think about your mother and your brother, and you can’t fathom ever betraying them like that. Your path is set already, and you can’t let it crumble and destroy what you worked hard to pave. You can’t turn your back on your mother over a dream that’s out of reach, that you had once been okay with letting go of.

You have to let go and stop being so hopelessly foolish, even if the temptation is hard not to cave into.

Thus you take Aemond’s compliment with a graceful smile and add nothing else on the matter even if your heart is swooning.

Thankfully he doesn’t add to the matter so you’re saved from further temptation. Instead, you follow him to the courtyard where Aegon’s Kingsguard friends are pushed to their knees, scared and nervous without a doubt over what fate the Prince regent will bestow upon them.

“Kneel before the Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen!” A guard announces as he and you descend the stairs to the courtyard, side by side. “And his lady wife, the Princess Regent…” he trails on to say your name.

Rather than sticking by Aemond’s side and watching the sentence he will give the Kingsguard though, your eyes go wide with glee as you spot an old, old friend from your time as a ward to Lady Karstark.

“Ser Mattias,” you whisper in disbelief and pick up your skirt to rush over to him and forget about your husband and the trial he’s conducting.

“Princess,” Ser Mattias greets with disbelief as he realizes that it’s really you.

“What a joy it is to see you, and,” you pause and study his all-black attire which differs wildly from the last time you saw him sporting bright white and typical greys and blacks with the sigil of his lady's house. “…All in black.”

Ser Mattias scoffs and tilts his head down to take a look at his own attire as if taking note of what he sports now, and what it means.

“And you,” he redirects and looks back at you to bow his head, making his long, dark locks dip with him. “Princess Regent, and…” he trails off to glance over your shoulder. “Weighed down by shadows.”

You glance at your sworn protectors before you pass Ser Mattias a smile. “It’s good to see you old friend, but I have to ask why you’re all in black now.”

Ser Mattias shifts on his feet and sighs. “After Lord Bennard tried to usurp Lord Cregan, I took the mantle as a brother of the Night's Watch. Perhaps I did serve his lady wife, but I still served their house,” he shakes his head gently. “I could not stand behind the treason, the sully to their name.”

You sigh and look at him with pity. “But Ser it was not your fault, Ser Bennard’s choices were his own. Not yours.”

“It does not matter, Princess, I could not stand for it. Nor did I have a home to return to, thus I joined the Night’s Watch and I’m better because of it,” he explains, letting you fall silent as you come to understand his reasoning, while also starting to wonder about someone after he mentioned his name.

First, though you make sure Aemond is still distracted with the sentencing before you casually bring him up since it’s not out of the ordinary. “An army from the North marches South, and their Lord leads them.”

A faint smile spreads on Ser Mattias' chapped lips and he nods stiffly. “Aye, I have heard. We will cross paths if the Gods let us.”

You nod slowly in comprehension and peek over at Aemond to keep making sure he’s distracted before you bring him up since you know you can trust Ser Mattias. “If you could Ser, pass a message to Lord Stark, for me?”

The man doesn’t react as you thought he would, nor should you have expected him to in truth. He and many others knew Cregan and you were great friends. You’re just overthinking.

“Of course. You and Lord Stark are still friends?” He asks and you nod before you pass him the message before Aemond can interrupt.

“Tell him…I’m okay. I'll be okay, and if the Gods are generous perhaps we’ll join each other on the battlefield.”

Ser Mattias shows he understands with a nod before he confirms his comprehension out loud. “I will give him the message.”

You let out a deep breath and nod your head before you step back and peer over your shoulder, catching at that moment, Aemond’s eye find you before he makes his way over with his hands behind his back, his head high, his back straight, and his chest puffed out as if trying to scare away the old man sworn to chastity.

“My Prince,” Ser Mattias greets and bows his head.

You pull on a smile and wait for Aemond to fall by your side before hooking your arm around his. “My love, this is Ser Mattias, he was Lady Karstark’s sworn protector when I was her ward.”

“Aye,” the man agrees. “I watched the Princess grow up for three years of her life, and grow from disdaining the North to falling in love with it.”

You giggle and Aemond crosses an arm over his chest to grab your hand as if trying to prove something to the man before him.

“She will be able to tell you the dire need of men in the Night's Watch,” Ser Mattias makes sure to take advantage of Aemond’s presence to ask for capable bodies. “Winter is coming and the threats will worsen. So please, any prisoners you may have rotting in your dungeons, send them to us.”

You glance over at Aemond and watch him offer the man a stiff comprehensive nod before he finally breaks his silence. “I will keep it in mind, Ser. Now I’m sure you have a long journey ahead of you, and prisoners who already require your attention.”

You shoot Aemond an annoyed side eye while you slowly slip your arm away from his. Albeit he refuses to let you go, so he discreetly tugs your arm back to keep you interlocked.

“My Prince,” the man bids his farewell with a small bow. “My Princess, it was an honor seeing you again.”

“And you, Ser,” you redirect softly. “Safe travels on your way back to the Wall.”

“Thank you.” He nods and without another word turns to follow his brothers out the gates. Aemond then turns away without letting go of you so you can stick at his side as if you will wander away or get lost on your way back inside the Red Keep.

Does that stop you from peering back at the man already paces away?

No, you still peer over your shoulder not because you long to leave too, not because you will miss the man, but because you know he will see Cregan...

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Lord Ormund Hightower makes slow progress.” Lord Lord Jasper shares what he knows. “There is great concern that his host is threatened on two fronts by armies allied with House Beesbury.”

Something that has caught your attention about this faction is that these great armies surely do complain a lot. You don’t remember men fighting for your mother complaining or asking for more assistance for a threat that has not hit them yet.

How annoying.

“However,” the lord continues over the ruckus that comes from the streets below and is actually loud enough that you hear it from the room. “In happier tidings, Prince Daeron’s dragon, Tessarion, has at last taken to wing—“

“Eyes on the horizon!” A distant shout starts to steal your attention.

“Your brother expects to join the fight soon—”

“Dragon!”

It can’t be Astraea, they would not make any commotion for her anymore. And Vhagar wouldn't alarm them either, so is it Sunfyre? Has he returned?

“…and when he does, the Hightower host will be unstoppable,” Lord Jasper tries to talk over the commotion, but that only turns to panic.

“Dragon! Inside! Now!”

Can it be your mother? Or daemon? Both?

Aemond turns his gaze to you and you both speechlessly come to the same conclusion that the panic is caused by an unknown dragon, there isn’t any other explanation for such a commotion, so you both rip away from your chairs and stride out to the balcony, where you see all the chaos first hand.

Like when they threatened Astraea when you first got to the city, now all the guards on the walls collect all their courage and point at a large dragon. One you can’t make out right away, but as it flies toward the city at great speed you instantly recognize the spectacular beast.

“Silverwing,” you announce her presence breathlessly as your mind wanders to who her rider might be. Is it Rhaena?

Last you heard of her she went to the Vale, but she could have gone back to Dragonstone, this might be her…

But why would she come to King's Landing alone?

There doesn’t seem to be any other dragons so it’s safe to assume Silverwing is alone, so why would Rhaena fly here?

Unless…it’s someone else? Who though? You need to know.

Nevertheless, once again Aemond seems to be interlinked with your current running thoughts because without sparing another moment he pushes himself away from the railing and twirls around to storm away.

He doesn’t ask for you to come but you don’t wait for an invitation, or care if he wants you to stay, you follow at his pace and can’t help but wonder who could be mounted on Silverwing. You want to think of anyone, someone you might know, but no one comes to mind, and those who do would not be stupid enough to bring their dragon to King’s Landing for a damn joyride. Because that’s what it seems like it is, a joyride.

Silverwing does not seem to be attacking, nor does she linger over one place. They don’t even land, they just fly, so whoever is on Silverwing must be pretty ballsy, and you need to know who it is, or perhaps protect them from Aemond and Vhagar’s wrath in some discreet way where it seems to Aemond that you’re attacking when you’re only scaring them away so they’re out of his reach.

But you can only do that if Aemond doesn’t forbid you from flying out after against them. You have already talked about this matter and come to a conclusion, but you still expect him to stop you, to tell you to stay put and wait for him to come back with a report.

Albeit he does not, he doesn’t even try to protest in some discreet way. When you finally reach a courtyard he doesn’t stop you from mounting a horse. He lets you ride out with him side by side, and between your curiosity and disbelief, you feel glad that he’s keeping to his word. It only makes your blood pump faster.

Yet nothing beats that rush when you hear your dragon’s threatening cry as she matches your enthusiasm and flies out to meet you without having to be told verbally, without having to go out to meet her like Aemond to Vhagar. As if in sync with each other's desires, Astraea flies past the city walls at the same time your horse sprints out of the city gates, and without having to come to a stop, and without having her land on some empty patch of land, you throw your arm out and stretch your fingers out.

Astraea’s shadow then casts over Aemond and you as she reaches you in a split second, but she doesn’t slow down to wait for you, she keeps at her. speed, seeming like she’s going to fly past you, but then a rope brushes over the tip of your fingers, so you grab onto it and wrap it around your wrist to be pulled off the horse as she continues flying forward; making you look like a sailor swinging across the deck of their ship, or out to danger.

Now, you usually don’t tend to mount Astraea using the rope, you tend to climb her, but in emergencies such as now, you use the rope, and strain all your upper body muscles to scale up the rope as she’s flying at a great speed over green lands.

Once you throw yourself over your leather saddle, Astraea peers back to make sure you’re secured on her back before she lets out an excited screech that matches the excitement you feel pumping to your heart, and then flaps her purple wings to pick up her speed and go faster than she already was without worrying over Vhagar or Aemond. You leave them behind because you know they’ll eventually catch up and pursue the stranger on Silverwing, the dragon that once belonged to Queen Alysanne, and who is mother to your own dragon.

Besides, leaving Aemond and Vhagar behind gives you time to know who rides Silverwing without having to be hostile. However, since Silverwing does have the lead, there's a pretty big gap between Astraea and her as she seems to be heading back to Dragonstone. Not like her having the advantage really matters, Astraea can be fast, especially when she’s excited or agitated, like now she’s as curious and rushed with as much thrilling excitement as you are.

So much so that she flaps her large wings and then dips down with her wings tucked to gain speed, managing after a few flaps to get close enough that you’ll be able to see who Silverwings rider is. You just need them to look down, but it doesn’t seem like they’re aware of you, or Astraea. Which indicates that they must be brand new to dragon riding, or stupidly careless.

Either or you need to know who they are exactly, but your voice won’t be carried out through the rushing wind, Astraea’s can though, so she speaks for you with a rather unthreatening chitter. She’s just loud and harsh enough that her noise will travel fast through the air and hit the ears of Silverwing, and her rider.

And as expected without having to call out a second time, Silverwing tilts her slim silver body to the side, letting you see the back of the rider before they look back and reveal who they are; some middle-aged man, with a plump face that matches his rather plump body, dark greying hair that flies over his shoulders, and a terrified look painted on his pale face.

He also seems to be dressed rather poorly, so does this mean he’s some bastard commoner? Did your mother really become so daring as to trust the Smallfolk to ride dragons for her? Because there’s no way Silverwing went out in search of this man, she hardly flew too far from Dragonstone, she isn’t as adventurous as Seasmoke, and with no rider, there wasn’t a reason to fly out to King's Landing or any city, so that can only mean that this was your mothers doing, but why didn’t she tell you?

Did she know you would be against it? Sure you have a soft spot for the Smallfolk, but to trust them with dragons? You can’t really trust strangers with polluted dragon blood. They can turn on you before you can know it. You can’t trust them, they’re not family.

But she seemed to trust them…so you have to…make sure Vhagar doesn’t touch them.

If only the man knew that you’re no threat, he looks like he’s about to shit himself with how scared he looks over your sudden appearance. That will not bode well for Silverwing. She’ll sense his fear and take you and Astraea as a threat, but there’s no way to make the man understand you won’t hurt them, you’ll just have to make Astraea slow down to put some distance between her and Silverwing.

“<Slow Astraea,>,” you tell your dragon in High Valyrian as you lean forward to caress her neck. “<We're on the same side.>”

Astraea chitters softly and tries to do as you say, making the man’s eyebrows pinch together and then ease as his fear turns to confusion. Yet Silverwing does not seem to go through the same emotions, because from one second to another she whips her tail down and smacks Astraea across the face.

“<Astraea!>” You call out in horror and watch her squirm her head out of pain before her brown eyes snap up and she lets out a pissed roar. “<Calm down!>” You try to ease her quick risen anger.

However, a deep guttural roar rips through the cloud bank behind you in response to Astraea’s rageful roar, and it seems that Vhagar gives fuel to Astraea’s anger because she then does exactly as you wanted her to do before, she slows down and hides from Silverwing in the cloud bank, causing the man to think you and your dragon stopped the chase because you’re out of sight.

Alas, that’s what Astraea wanted Silverwing and the rider to think. She wants them to lower their guard and waits for them to descend from greater heights to be just low enough that they’re close to the body of water you fly over.

You know she’s up to something, you can hear her groaning, and see her gaze pierced ahead and then fall, but rather than stopping her, you let her give in to her anger so you can scare away the rider and Silverwing because as you pay attention, you hear Vhagar. You see her in the distance and you know Aemond won’t hesitate to attack. Thus you let Astraea act out.

You actually let a smirk play on your lips, you relish in the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you think of what Astraea has planned. Which will give this new rider the wrong idea, but that’s what you need at the moment, you can’t blow your cover, and…a part of you doesn’t care that he gets the wrong idea about you. You…drool over the thought of having him be scared of you.

It’s why with that mischievous longing in your heart, you welcome Astraea’s charge towards the water as you remain undetected. When you approach the water's surface you duck your head and draw in a deep breath to hold it in as your dragon dives in the cold water. And considering she’s more than fond of these antics when you’re riding her, you don’t show fear or panic, you actually tear your eyes open and find awe as you see all the wonders that live in the water.

They’re simple wonders like fish, simple deep and blue waters, and common undersea plants, but as if it’s the first time taking it all in you’re completely captivated by it all, but not forgetful of your current dire situation. You prepare for Astraea to resurface by closing your eyes and ducking your head again. Once your drenched body is smacked by the cold rushing breeze, you wipe the water off your eyes before you open them and then sit up, coming to see at that moment, as your eyes connect the shadow over you to its owner, that Astraea is now directly below Silverwing, and the silver dragon is none the wiser.

Silverwing did not hear Astraea dive in the water, nor does she catch her and you flying out and torpedoing toward her. Her rider is in the same affair, only Aemond and Vhagar see what you’re doing from a distance, and you know for a fact that neither will give you away. A proud and malicious smirk actually spreads on Aemond’s face, easing the frustration that has him all stiff. And that pride only heightens and mixes with awe as he catches how Astraea opens her mouth to get ready for the attack as she gets near the silver dragon.

Albeit just before she can chomp down on Silverwing, the silver dragon finally catches Astraea and is able to swerve the attack, making Astraea bite air.

“Damn,” you hiss under your breath and tug the handles away to steer Astraea away, but Silverwing is rightfully pissed. She flies head first toward Astraea before she tilts her body back to hook her claws on the Astraea.

However, before your dragon is gashed, she flips her body swiftly to be on her back and have you be upside down for a second before she flips to her other side and puts some distance between her and Silverwing.

“<Calm down now Astraea. That should be enough,” you tell your dragon as you pat her neck. “You did good girl. Leave her be now.>”

Astraea roars out at Silverwing, and the silver dragon responds with a louder and higher-pitched roar, but neither dragon goes for another attack. Astraea listens to you and lets Silverwing gain the advantage. The rider steals paranoid glances at you, but you don’t attempt to share any reassuring looks so he knows he’ll be fine, you feed his fear by passing him a malicious look that is the last thing he sees before he finally gains a good distance from you and your raging dragon.

After that, since you’re done with your charged pursuit you just follow him the rest of the way to Dragonstone since Aemond and Vhagar are still on Silverwing’s trail. You get so close to home in fact, that Astraea has to swerve to one side to avoid flying over land, in doing so letting you see the welcoming and relieving sight of your mother.

Your mother is there on the ground, and not alone either, she’s guarded by Syrax, and the great Bronze Fury, Vermithor, he’s there too, which is unbelievable really, but you can only give your attention to your mother who is struck with surprise as she sees you passing by. While you come to realize at the same time she does that you’re just out of reach, but still far from one another and not able to touch. The only thing you can do is pass her a prideful look for her achievement because regardless of your distrust and disapproval of this new plan, you’re still proud that she got to achieve such a feat in not only gaining a rider for Silverwing, but Vermithor too it seems! Proving how capable she is not only as a ruler but a warrior too.

You’re proud of that and you make sure she sees it with your smile not only on your lips but dancing in your eyes too.

Yet your pride and bliss are fleeting, taking your adrenaline with it when you fly over the shore and see Seasmoke with a rider. Which shouldn’t be surprising as it is, your father is gone and Seasmoke is free to bond with anyone. It was going to happen eventually, but…he was your father's dragon, he was a part of your father once and your heart always remembers your father every time you look at Seasmoke. Your heart aches every time you see the silver-grey dragon because you think of your beloved father.

Now when you look at Seasmoke you’ll see a new rider and the cruel reminder that your father won’t ever come back. He’s gone forever, and Seasmoke will now be someone else’s. He’ll be a part of someone new, someone…

Wait…

You blink and as the cloud of grief passes you come to recognize the man on Seasmoke; it’s Addam! Addam of Hull?!

But…but how?!

Who…

Oh…

Oh!

It’s not beyond the realm of possibilities, the realization that slams into you. There are other possibilities of course, but why else would your grandfather pester you and bother himself to introduce you to Addam’s brother Alyn?

You thought it was weird at that moment. Why would you care who that man is, and why would your grandfather put so much trust in a man when it came to sending him to King's Landing to check on you last year?

It’s because…Addam and Alyn, are his offspring. Potentially, but very likely. It explains why Addam is on Seasmoke!

Damn, now how can you assure yourself that it’s actually fact and not a wild assumption? Ask your grandfather? Yeah right, like he would ever confess to it. And it’s doubtful anyone else knows if it’s true.

Did your grandmother know?

Who knows.

Regardless, you want to know now, and you need to tell Aemond about Seasmoke too when you get home. It doesn’t seem like he noticed Addam and Seasmoke from where he was and because he turned away before he could get a closer look.

However, you don’t follow him home, Aemond leads you and Astraea to an elevated green mountain near the town Sharp Point rather than returning home right away, which…can’t be good. If he wanted time alone he would find it at home, not near this town.

Yet here he is and he’s pissed. You can see his face contorted with anger, his jaw clenched, and his gaze distant the moment you dismount your dragons.

“You saw it?” Is the first thing he says as you make your way to each other. “The dragons and their common born riders.”

You try to figure out his thought process, but there’s also so much in your mind, so your curiosity is second place to everything else.

“I saw it, and I saw Seasmoke too,” you share, making him grimace and turn his head away to simmer in his growing anger.

“But,” you add and step closer to him. “That’s not the most important fact. I know his rider.”

Aemond’s gaze immediately returns to you and his gaze narrows while his eye digs itself deep inside you to try and figure out what you mean by that.

“He has a brother that my grandfather introduced me to when we went to Driftmark,” you continue to heighten his jealousy and curiosity. “I thought it was weird that he would bother himself to introduce us, and then he revealed that he sent that brother to our engagement tourney, and now I think he did all this because…they might be…his bastards?” You say more like a question as if Aemond would know the truth.

“It explains why Addam can ride Seasmoke,” you explain what is clear, but then begin to drift back to confusion and cluelessness. “But I do not know, I can’t be sure. And it’s not like I can just ask my grandfather.”

Aemond swallows thickly and turns away to get lost in thought. You let your mind wander too, but as you do you also remember where you are, and what you think Aemond might do to this town in response to his anger for your mother’s achievements.

“Do you realize what this means? This dragonrider?” Aemond makes his silence short and turns to face you, making you slowly turn to face his gaze now not tense with jealousy, but softened with pity.

“If he is Lord Corlys’ bastard then he and the brother might be legitimized, and one of them may be turned heir of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides,” he shares what you did not even realize, you were so stuck on the fact that he might be your grandfather's bastard that you did not see the bigger picture. And now that you’re seeing it in its totality, that worry you had for this town is completely diminished.

“But,” you argue effortlessly as if weakened by the cruel but real assumption. “He said he would make Aerion his heir.”

Aemond sighs deeply and closes the gap between you to grab your arms and hold your gaze with your breaths brushing over each other's faces, and the warmth that radiates off him blanketing your still damped body.

“But now his bastards are fighting wars and bonding with dragons, they’re older, don’t you think he’ll favor him over our son?” He presses and only makes a sadness puncture your heart, and the need to know the truth that much more significant. After all, why wouldn’t you expect something else to be taken from you?

They took your role as heir, and now they might take your son's role as heir of Driftmark.

“Do you…” you trail off and drop your head to try and find an answer, to try and contradict that new fear Aemond planted in your mind. “Do you think he would?” You ask with a great sadness dulling your eyes while also making them gleam so brightly with the tears that cloud them.

“Why wouldn’t he? They already took your role as heir,” he says in a softer tone now as he reaches over to grab your face, forbidding you from feeling alone as your heart is once again troubled with sorrow, disbelief, and…growing anger.

Anger you can’t exactly feed without knowing if it’s true though. You need to know if Addam and Alyn are really his bastards before you can let this anger take root.

You need to know.

“I need to talk to someone,” you tell Aemond with determination. “I need to know if it’s true or not, and I know my grandfather would never say, so I need to go ask someone who will know.”

Aemond blinks and his eyebrows knit together. At first, he assumes you’ll ask one of the Hull boys, but you then tell him otherwise.

“I need to go ask the Red Priestess, Kinvara, she’ll know.”

Aemond parts his lips to rebuttal but you cup his hands and assure his worry. “I’ll be okay. I trust her. She’ll tell me the truth.”

A/N- something wicked this way comes ;(;

Tags

fanfiction hotd house of the dragon moonlight cregan stark aemond targaryen hotd season 2 aemond targaryen x reader hotd fanfiction damn-stark chapter 16 aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader cregan stark x female reader house of the dragon fanfiction aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader cregan stark x targaryen!reader cregan stark x velaryon!reader

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mep3rd0nas

9 months ago

It makes me think about my two favourite fanfics that I’ve been reading lately🫤🫤

It’s literally with Cregan stark x Targaryen/Velaryon!Reader🙃🙃

husband!Cregan Stark who can never be romantic with his lovely wife and take a bath together because she's a fucking Targaryen and the water she uses for the bathtub feels like something out of the seven hells themselves (and he's not making his lady having to spend an unpleasant moment making her stay for more than thirty minutes in water that feels almost cold to her)

Tags

house of the dragon cregan stark cregan stark x reader

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mep3rd0nas

9 months ago

Thank you ╯(˙༥˙)♡