Cregan Stark X Female Reader - Blog Posts

Dont worry yall, i promise I'll be updating again shortly🙏🙏 i was on spring break when i was grinding out posts, and now im back at school. I haven't abandoned you😩

Wedding Night {Blurb} - Cregan Stark

Warnings: Breeding kink goes brrr for big winter man🙏, 18+, smut but not too detailed im sorry, X-Reader, no use of y/n

Cregan doesnt bed you on your wedding night for his own pleasure, not only is his an afterthought in comparison to yours, the most important thing to him was breeding you. Tensions had rose so much before you had finally been married, you, ever the minx, brought up having a brood of babies and giving Rickon siblings at every point you could. Perhaps you were doing it innocently, truly just earnest to be a mother, but it had gotten to him each time you said it. He wanted to be a noble gentleman and wait until the proper time, after you were fully wed, but to the old gods had you been making it difficult. You had once mentioned wanting atleast five babies early into your marriage. You had said it casually, asking if there was anything you could eat or drink to help with your own fertility and womanly health before the marriage, but it made the wolf in him go nearly feral.

After hours of taking his time to empty his seed into his bride, both of you were spent yet he still kept himself inside you. To think of it he hadn't taken himself out the whole time, not fully. As if hearing your thoughts your husband spoke "the maesters say a couple must stay connected until conception has started, I wont take my chances"

My bad if this is sorta badly written i had the idea so quickly i havent even come up with a description🙏

Flowers and Ice 1 -Cregan Stark

"May the flower remind us why the rain was so necessary" - Xan Oku. The beautiful Rose of house Tyrell is promised to Cregan Stark after the war. She arrives before Cregan comes home, and is forced to make home in the north by herself, despite the challenges of a harsh winter.

Warnings: angst (sorta) to fluff, Cregan + miscommunication, low expectations met with high quality husband, lady tyrell is high maintenance ngl, very sweet rickon, accidentally posted this before it was finished 😔 not fully proofread.

She arrived on the dawn of a very cold morning, and the Tyrell sigil could be seen from banners not far in the distance. The Lord of the north, Cregan stark, had written to Lady Tyrell that he would not be home when she arrived, however his sister and hand would be there to tend to any needs she would have. He had said there was "business" left to attend to and he'd meet her very shortly.

Lord Stark wrote about how he had heard of how noble the Rose of house Tyrell was, and how beautiful he had heard her to be. He said he was excited to unify their houses, and he promised to be a good husband.

She had heard of the nobility and loyalty House Stark portrayed, but she hadn't expected much of a perfect husband in a burly northern man. There would be little romance, little late night cuddling, but atleast she'd be treated better then a wife of the harsh Boltons, or even worse, shipped off to House Gargalen of Dorne, rare to see family again. She would never have the husband of her dreams, it wasn't in the cards of highborn ladies.

Lady Tyrell had not expected to be left alone for moons by herself in the harsh winter months, forced (as the Lords bethrothed) to make an impression decent enough to the northerners by herself; To prove she would be a good lady of Winterfell without even knowing what her duties should be.

She had to prove herself useful to the council, attending every meeting she was permitted to (which wasn't many, as the men didn't trust her judgment nor her loyalty to Winterfell). She understood the hesitations, and she really didn't hate the life she was living, but as days passed, resentment for her bethrothed slowly built up inside of her.

The rose understood she had to make herself comfortable in her new home, she didnt have a husband to lean on, and as sweet and Sara Stark was, Lady Tyrell couldnt leech all her time away from those who had it before.

One full moon after she arrived she met Rickon, the boy of her bethrothed and his dearly departed. He was the sweetest boy and reminded her of her tiniest brother, Cagney Tyrell. Through the months they became rather close, and Lady Tyrell would visit the angel boy every day and every night before bed.

Through her days she kept busy by spending time with the children of the orphanages, and writing letters to her siblings. Half through the second moon, she recieved a letter from her bethrothed.

Dearest Bride,

My men have written and described to me how well you've adjusted to Northern life. They say you've taken interest in the politics of winter, and are even visiting my beloved son. I want to thank you for being so patient as i finish my duty, i cant wait to come and meet you. I have no doubts we will make a perfect pair and Lord and Lady Stark of Winterfell.

Before signing this letter id like to express how much it means to me that you've been so adaptive without my guidance, i truly apologise i couldnt be there on your arrival.

Your bethrothed,

Lord Cregan Stark Of Winterfell.

Lady Tyrell read the letter twice before she crumpled the letter in her hands. How could he be so dimwitted as to think she was doing any of this by choice? This was her duty. It had been made very clear to her that Lord Cregan was going to be her husband. She was going to be the lady of the north weather she wanted or not.

He hadnt even included an update on when he'd be back home. He hadnt asked any questions or provided any knowledge to even try to get and know her.

On the same day she recieved a letter from her younger sister containing petals of sunflowers, chrysanthemum, and forget-me-not. All flowers that represented a sense of loyalty and logevity, adoration, friendship, and true love. The language of flowers would be something ingrained her mind as a daughter of Highgarden.

The letter itself was simply words of sisterly love and and update of all the suitors she had met during her tenth year celebration. The acknowledgemnt of her sisters birthday passsing made The Rose feel low. She couldnt celebrate with her sister, and she herself would never have a birthday filled with flowers again. The realization made her feel small, and disconnected from her family.

On the dawn of the third moon, Sara rushed behind lady Tyrell and nearly screamed her good news. "My brothers returning! Cregan'll be home before supper! They've seen the banners riding to the gates early this morning."

She didnt know weather her heart was soaring or dropping. She was excited in a way. She would be married within the fortnight and all the dreams of a little girl would be fufilled, and her family would be there. In another way she knew she was doomed now. Her life was now tethered to Lord Stark and despite enjoying the company of his sister and little son, she had no idea how her husband would treat her, and she didnt know if the little bits of resentment she held towards him would turn her into a mean wife, a mean mother. That was her fear.

Growing up in the beautiful Highgarden, every lady wishes to be married to a kind gentleman in a sept with a grand party and feast. They had the wish to be treated like a princess by their husbands, and have huge broods of babies that they'd love and take care of every day. Realistically, very little women would live out this dream, but childlike hope would tether onto Lady Tyrell.

With that childlike hope she wished to try and make good with lord Stark. She put on a fine gown and furs to keep her warm. She wore jewelry from her home, including a large pendent with House Tyrells Sigil on it.

She was guided to the front gate with the other highborn men and women to greet the Lord Stark and his hand. They rode in on horses, less than a hundred men in total, the grandest horse being rode by an even grander man. He was burly and wearing layers upon layers of fur. He was disheveled from the ride, and yet still looked regal and attractive.

The men stopped when Lord Stark dismounted his horse, patting it sternly twice in appreciation before making his way to the line of people waiting for him. He met with his sister first, embracing her in a long hug, then stepped in front of Lady Tyrell.

It seemed like everyone held their breaths as they awaited the introductions between their Lord and to-be Lady. The Rose was of course as beautiful as legends claimed, however she had an elegant yet stern look on her face, much different from the kind smile she was said to always wear.

He knelt on one knee beneath her and took her hand in his. "My beautiful bride Lady Tyrell, The rose of Highgarden." He kissed the top of her gloved knuckle. "Im so sorry i couldnt meet your acquaintance before today, believe me when i say my duty brought me no joy in comparison to finally meeting you."

Lady Tyrell simply smiled and nodded her head, raising it as he stood up. "Its an honour to meet you after nearly four moons of being in your home, ive wondered if the wonderful Lord Stark was truly as noble as they say." Her message was delievered with a regal voice and no malice, if anything awe, but Cregan couldve sworn he noticed a little anger in her face.

He then went on too greet his son, the little boy being covered in furs as if a small puffball. This caused the kind smile to peak through her elegant facade and Cregan noticed it. He wondered what he had done wrong to make the Lady even slightly angry with him, they had just met! Had his sister said something that perhaps provoked the delicate sensibilities of a Highgarden Lady? Had the men said something?

There, of course, was a large banquet planned for their return, but as no one had an idea when Lord Stark would be back, it was planned for the morrow. This was no matter to Cregan as it gave him time to court his wife privately, or atleast he presumed.

By the time they had been settled back in their chambers and relaxed for the evening, most of the men whom returned taking their suppers in their chambers and scrubbing the grime off their body. Many others spent their returning hours with ladies of the brothels.

Lord Stark however, was on his way to his bethrothed's chambers. He stood infront of her door for a click of a second, slightly unnerved that there was no one in front of it, not guard nor servent or handmaiden.

He knocked twice, hard. There was no response. It wasnt late enough for her to have retired to sleep. He knocked once to announce his entrance as he opened her door, to find no one there.

The Lord looked around for a bit. Her bed was made with lighter coloured furs and he could see silks underneath. There was paintings of flowers near the hearth, along with a portrait of her family. Her wardrobe was left with one door slightly agape and he could see light coloured silky dresses, a true lady of the Reach.

As he was standing, doors wide open in the center of his bride room, a servent walked in, then gasped and bowed as she realized who she'd walked in on. "M'ilord, Im sorry i didnt see you." She trailed awakwardly for a second. "Could i help you with something?"

"Where is my bethrothed? Lady Tyrell?" The servent smiled gently at the mention of the Rose. The woman moved to the side of her room to close the blinds as she spoke.

"Lady Tyrell is where she is every night at this time, with your son Lord Rickon in his nursery. They always spend some time before bed per Lord Rickons request." Cregan's heart nearly burst out of his chest.

His sister had wrote to him that his bethrothed had become close to his Son, but he didn't know they had seen every night together. He travelled to the nursery swiftly, and was proud to see his best guards standing in front of the door. He opened the door quietly, attempting to avoid creaks purposely to watch without them knowing, atleast for a second.

He saw the beautiful Tyrell sitting on the floor, gown perfectly sprawled our around her, and a visibly drowsy Rickon laying in her lap, playing with her fingers. His bride was singing, very quietly to his Son. He didnt recognize the hymm, but as be watched in adoration, his foot stepped forward on a loose floorboard and caused a loud creak, causing his son and bride to look at him quickly.

Rickon looked restored of energy as he jumped up and ran to his fathers side, however his betrothed turned her face stoic again, and stood up to curtsey. "My Lord."

"My lady. My sweet wife." She grimaced slightly and he was taken aback.

"Not yet." Her voice was strong and both words were enunciated. He smiled gently, his eyebrows however set in a frown. Rickon cut off his stare with a loud giggle.

"Father, aunt Sara told me you were to marry my lady! Is it true? Will she be my new step-mother?" Cregan looked to her, almost unsure how to answer. He would never take a bride unwillingly, however the writing was already on the wall for them. They were to be wed.

"Yes, my boy." He started. "Lady Tyrell and I are to be wed, although she will only be your step mother if she'll have me." Perhaps he didnt phrase it properly. He meant that she would be his stepmother if she wanted. If she wanted to be more then married through law, she was more then welcome.

Lady Tyrell didnt hear it this way. Her instinct was that if she refused to be a dutiful wife, she'd be no longer permitted to visit Rickon. It didnt make sense, logically of course, he had written about how much he appreciate their bond in his absence, but maybe she was wrong.

Her face only turned slightly darker and Cregan panicked internally. What had he said? She then knealt to her knees again and opened her arms for Rickon. "Ill be getting to my chambers now, sweet boy, i must bathe and write a letter to my mother, ill see you tommorow morning." He ran up to embrace her for a hug and kissed her on the cheek causing her heart to melt.

"I love you My Lady" he whispered not-so quietly in her ears.

Lady Tyrell nearly broke down in tears at the proclamation and decided then she would do whatever Lord stark needed of her to stay closer to Rickon.

As she rised, she looked towards the Lord stark to cursey and take her leave. He, however, grabbed onto her arm gently to stop her. "Please, let me call for a maid, and we can walk back to your chambers." She accepted the offer but didn't meet his apologetic eyes. A young maid came in the nusery quickly, and the lord and lady left just as quick.

As soon as they were out of earshot from the guards, Lord Stark stopped them and took her to a windowsill opening to talk more privately, without potentially intruding in her space.

"May i ask my lady, have i offended you?" She took a deep breath, debating on if she'd tell the truth or mellow in her own anger.

"Perhaps it's just the sensitivities a hightower woman." She dismissed, still not looking at him fully. Perhaps he really wasn't sure what he did to offend her, perhaps it was really just normal for them. "Im sure we'll make a fine pair, Lord Stark, i just need to become more accustomed to the northern additude, im sure."

He almost wanted to be offended, but the bits of emotional intelligence he had been gifted from his departed wife and sister made him understand that something deeper was at play.

"Please talk to be bride." He pleaded, taking her face in his hands, perhaps rougher than he had intended, but that was the northern additude, not leaving their wives to be angry at them for the rest of the marriage.

"I wouldn't let you be angry at me for our lives. We are to be wed, husband and wife, lady and lord, and that's more than a political duty to me." He looked her in the eyes. She noticed how he was grey and stormy and full of promise.

"You called for my arrival in winterfell three moons ago, yet you only arrive today. You make me wait, alone in a new environment where the only person to trust me is his little sister. I have braved the beginning of my first northern winter by myself."

He paused. He looked ashamed. He had assumed it would be preferred to adjust alone, but somehow, he hadn't taken the harshness it may have been seen as. He wanted to speak but she continued.

"On top of that, you sent me one letter. One letter to thank me for patience and nothing else. You didn't ask me how i was or tell me when i could expect you. Forgive me for feeling a bit-"

"Im sorry, my Lady," he knealt below her in a sign of apology, his head ducking before he looked back into her eyes. "My intention was never to make you feel as if you were alone, i simply presumed you'd need time to adjust, i should've known to be here. I'm so sorry. " She took a deep breath.

"Lord Stark-"

"Do not call it Highgarden sensitivities, its a failure of myself as a husband-"

"Your not my husband yet."

"I am yours, however. I'm to protect you, and i should've been here to guide you. I'm sorry i didn't wait to invite you here. It was my assumption that perhaps the mix of a new enviormwnt and a new husband would be too much, i see i was wrong im sorry-"

"Lord stark!" She interuppted him, pulling him up to her level again. "I forgive you. Perhaps i was too hasty with my judging your character. You are a noble man, and maybe i should've taken a bit more initiative to explain how i felt. A man is not a mindreader."

Lord Stark smiled and brushed her hair out of her face. "Thank you. I shall be worthy of your forgivness until they day i shall die." The Rose nearly wanted to blush at his flattery. However, she didn't. She just had a coy smile painted on her lips.

Cregan took her hand tentatively and continued their walk to her chambers. They walked in silence, excusing a servents greeting them, until they were in front of her door.

He left with a kiss on her hand and a very sweet goonight, with a promise to have a servent collect her to break their fast together, jf she so wanted.

The minute the door closed behind Lady Tyrell she strode to her desk to pick up and quill and place it on a piece of partchment the maid must've laid out.

"Dearest Mother,

I may be happy in winterfell yet."

Thankyou so much for reading, i love you all so much ♡ part two coming soon

Cregan Stark Masterlist

Angst=🥀Smut=🪷Fluff=🌸Headcanon=🐛

Flowers and Ice - (Part 1)🥀🌸 (Part 2)🪷🌸

"May the flower remind us why the rain was so necessary" - Xan Oku. The beautiful Rose of house Tyrell is promised to Cregan Stark after the war. She arrives before Cregan comes home, and is forced to make home in the north by herself, despite the challenges of a harsh winter.

The kindness of Heart🥀🌸

"An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind" - Gandhi. The lord of winterfell takes a new bride after his first wife passes. She's the kindest, most generous women he could ask for, and the most joyous stepmother, but certain wetnurses and servents seem adept at using her joy to their advantage

A Dreamer in The North 🌸🪷

"The sight of stars makes me dream" - Van Gogh. A targaryen dreamer, born to the heir Rhaenyra, is wed to Lord Stark for a political alliance, but the sweet dreamer can sense their marriage will be much more then just a promised duty.

Wedding Night {Blurb} 🪷(ish)

-description incoming, its just cregan × you having a breeding kink and finally have your wedding night

A Little Girls Dream🥀🌸

"It never occured to me that one day, i could wake up sick, and never feel better" - Unknown. The princess of Rhaenyra Targaryen and sister to Jacareys Valeryon was an ill woman. She was beautiful, in a ghostly, frail way. Cregan sees her for himself on a meeting after Rhaenyra successfully retains her throne, and he decides he wishes to marry the girl in return for his effortless duty during the war.

Hot springs Cold Winters🌸🪷

"Quote to be determined," Cregan and his bride have a long evening in the hotsprings of winterfell after feeling like they hadn't seen each other forever

imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

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That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

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Alright time to cry 🤭

Chapter 22 Hanging tree medley

Chapter 22 of Moonlight

A/N- ;) Closer and closer to our boy Cregan

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

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

Episode/Pages- 462-463

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*3 DAYS LATER*

Dull blackened walls. Leaking roof. Rain, rain, and more stupid rain for 3 days!

Besides, seeing Alys for breakfast, lunch, and dinner all that you have is stupid dull walls, a leaking roof, and rain! All because of Aemond! All because he’s under some stupid mind trip! You don’t know how much longer you can take it, you don’t want to stay trapped in the same stupid four walls or you’ll go mad! You need to get out, you desire it with every fiber of your being, but there’s no way out besides the front door and that’s heavily guarded.

All that you have as an alternative instead is staying busy inside your chamber while it’s day. Yet when you’re awake you think of what Aemond did and tears escape your eyes, so you sleep. Sleep and dream apparently.

Of what? You don’t know, but it’s clear though. You’re in some unknown house with the sun casting through a window, looking out at a cobbled street, and a clean and beautiful white house. You want to feel the sun on your skin after being stuck under gloomy skies for so long, but ‘tis a dream. You can only see the sun dancing on your fingertips.

“Laenor.”

You freeze with your hand reaching for the beam of light and hold your breath as if any slight movement that you make will make this dream disappear.

“Stop! What are you doing?! You know you can’t go!”

The voice is familiar, but no matter how hard you try to connect it to a memory of someone, you’re unable to find it in your mess of a mind.

Footsteps quickly approach soon thereafter though, but you remain frozen. Even more so as you wonder if what you’re dreaming of isn’t some dream at all, but something made by Alys. A vision of the past foretold in a dream.

“You can’t stop me Qarl,” a different voice counters in a faltering sharp voice. And this voice, unlike the other one, is easy to connect to a person. This voice…belongs to your father. You can’t forget it no matter how much you have tried—“I need to go. I am going to see her,” you hear your father add before you see his figure in the corner of your eyes as he approaches the front door.

You want to look, you want to see him, and you know you will because this dream is too clear, too vivid for it to be a figment of the inner workings of your mind, but the best you can do is lower your hand back to your side and let out a shaky breath.

You can’t look, not even as another pair of footsteps quickly make their way over before slamming the door shut.

“What if you are caught, huh?” Qarl, the man with the voice you can now identify, argues. “Do you think that 5 years is enough for people to forget how you look?”

“I don’t…” your father trails off and you hear his feet shift against the wooden panels. You think that he’s going to follow up with something quickly, but the silence lingers, making you grow insatiably curious to the point you slowly turn and finally see him; it’s the side of his face, but it’s him and he’s so much thinner, he has eye bags, and sunken in cheeks. He almost looks sickly. Is he?

“I don’t need to make some big public announcement,” your father's voice quivers. “Qarl, I just need to see her. It’s been five years, she should have returned from Winterfell already, meaning she’s in King’s Landing, which leaves me the perfect opportunity to see her without getting caught.”

“That’s if you can even get near, it’s been five years, Laenor. She’s changed, the girl you knew is gone. What if it’s not possible to see her?” He queries and lifts his brows to press him to answer, but your father just scoffs and lets a faint smile appear on his face.

“I do not care if she’s changed,” he retorts and lets his bag slip from his arm. “I welcome it. I just need to see her, Qarl. I’m dying and all that occupies my mind is her. I…dream of her. She fills my every thought. Her. My daughter. My little girl.”

His words are simple. They’re so simple, but oh do they have a way to puncture your chest and make it ache. No matter how upset you want to be over the choices he made, at this very moment as you hear him, as you see him desperately pleading, you can’t stay upset. Not even a bit.

“I made her,” he says shakily with a wobbly smile to match his shaky words. “Me. She's the best part of me and I left her behind. You don’t know what that feels like, the guilt that torments me so, because she’s not your daughter. You’re not a father, but I am and I left her,” he cries as he touches his chest.

“I left them, and now I’m dying so all I need is just to see her,” he continues softly. “I don’t need her to see me even though I wish it. I don’t need to embrace her even though I dream it. I just need to see her from afar, I just need to make sure she’s okay and happy. If I die there in the stinking city then at least I would have gotten to see her one last time, so no Qarl you cannot stop me. I’m going so you can either stay or come with me.”

He was coming to see you. After you had all this doubt about his love for you, he was going to come see you before he died.

He still left you behind and made you believe he was dead, but he still thought of you, he still loved you after all that time, how can you stay mad at that? How can you forsake him when he has never forsaken you?

Albeit does that really aid your agonized soul? No, it still aches, perhaps even more so now that you know this truth. But past that agony that you feel, a part of you doesn’t hurt as much as it used to when you thought he forgot about you. A part of you feels at ease and healed, and it’s thanks to Alys.

For whatever reason, whether from the kindness of her own heart or a tactic used to motivate you out of your depressed state, you’re thankful and motivated. You can say that you will actually fight to get out now.

However, no matter how much you do wish to escape this past vision given to you through your dream, you can’t. You can’t leave yet. Instead, your surroundings slowly change. Where there were once walls from a house, now there’s an endless horizon, sand beneath your feet, and crashing waves against the shore.

Confusion is quick to take over you, polluting your every thought until you hear violent hacking from behind you. After that curiosity slowly creeps through, making you turn and freeze in horror when you see the vast ocean scene polluted by the remnants of a wrecked ship. Which means the hacking you heard…

You don’t want to see who’s lying on the sandy ground. You don’t want to, but you must, so you turn around slowly, and there on the ground lies your father, bleeding out from a puncture wound in his stomach.

“Father!” You cry out and before you know your feet carry you to him and you fall by his side. “Papa,” you whisper and reach over to grab his face and tilt it over.

When his eyes find you before him, face to face, his gaze begins to narrow as he seems to try and work out if you’re real.

“It’s me,” your whisper quivers. “It’s me. Your little Siren. Papa. You must know it’s me.”

His eyes slowly soften, making his pupils dilate, whilst his lips tug to a relieved smile. “It’s you. My little Siren.”

“Papa,” you mewl.

He chuckles out of joy and doesn’t hesitate cupping your face. “Look at you,” he coos. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young lady.”

You break into a smile and stroke his cheek. “Papa…I thought…I thought you didn’t love me. I thought you left me behind because you didn’t like me.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, no. How could I ever hate you? I love you. That’s why I left, you must know.”

You nod. “Yes, I know,” you assure him and keep stroking his cheek. “I know. I have so much to tell you, like—like you’re a grandfather. Aerion is my boy's name. He’s so beautiful.”

His smile softens, and he pulls your face towards him so you can press your foreheads against each other. “Will you…sing me a song? One last…time,” he whispers.

You nod as tears crawl out of your eyes. Yet before you can even think of a song to sing, his grip slips from your cheeks, and his head falls back limply as he takes his last breath.

“Father!” You weep. “Father, please don’t leave me again. Papa!” You cry out and slide your hands down to shake his shoulders. “Papa! Please, please.”

No amount of pleas will bring him back, you know that. It’s just a vision of the past, you know that, but you still try your hardest. “Please, papa. Please you must live. You must stay. You have so much to see, like Aerion. You have to meet Aerion and the twins. Please papa. Please.”

It’s no use though. His heart isn’t beating and no breaths escape past his lips. He’s gone, and all you can do with what little time remains is bury your face in the crook of his neck.

When he slips away and the scenery follows, you wake up to the dull and blackened walls, you wake up with your cheeks pampered in tears, but a fury lit within you that makes you want to fight your way out. After all, you’ve proven that you can. Even if you’re pregnant you can do it because you can’t stay here a moment longer. You need to leave, you need to see Aerion, and most importantly not be here when Aemond returns.

Thus after you take a deep and shaky breath, and wipe the tears off your cheeks, you slip off the bed. And since you have no weapons you simply walk to the doors with the intent to lure inside one of the guards standing outside the doors.

However, when your hand hovers over the knob a thud hits the door making your shoulders jump and a breath to escape past your lips.

What are they doing out there you wonder. And to satisfy your curiosity you lean forward with your breath held to peek through the crack between the doors, noticing your guards dead on the ground and two strange men standing over them with different colored outfits that don’t match the guards left to protect you. These men also have a more rugged appearance and don’t use armor like your men do. Are they Rivermen?

They must be, and you can’t take it for chance. If they’re here killing your men after Aemond and the army left then they’re not here on good terms, and it’s doubtful that whoever is leading them will let you have your freedom.

If it was you leading these men here then you would take yourself as a prisoner; you’re valuable on both sides, and unless they’re stupid then they’ll take you captive and cut some deal with your Mother or Aemond.

Which means you have to go to Astraea and leave at last, so with that in mind you quickly search your chambers and when you find a dark corner to hide in to get a jump on them, you start to move to it.

Yet just as you make it past the door, they swing open and the men make themselves in, ruining your chance to hide.

“Your Grace,” one of the men greets you mockingly and bows their head.

You’re at a standstill so you just pierce a glare into them and try to find something to use against them as they immediately become combative, proving they’re not stupid.

“We saw the purple dragon fly out and assumed you were gone,” the second man says, telling you at that moment Astraea must have gone hunting, she wouldn’t leave otherwise. Not while you’re here against your will—“We came into the castle, saw the guards, and thought nothing of it until there were two at the door. Must be our lucky day that the Kinslayer didn’t take his wife with him.”

You can’t find something to use against them, not while they both have swords, so you start to inch toward the doors.

“If you’re going to take me captive do it,” you try to end your torture. “At your own risk, you are Rivermen, you serve under the Queen, and she won’t be happy to hear you took her only daughter captive.”

The men look at each other unaffected by your threat and one of them proves that. “Aye, she won’t. Neither will the Kinslayer find joy in hearing his wife got taken, but Lady Frey wants Harrenhal, I imagine either of them will grant us the keep and the lands for you. Whoever does it first gets you back and gets our support.”

Lady Frey? As in Lady Sabitha Frey?

Of course, the Frey’s are up to no good.

Regardless, you don’t want to let Aemond respond to their deal first. He is closer so he will arrive here faster. And if he does he’ll only leave you in the same predicament someplace he will deem safer, which will be probably someplace like Oldtown or somewhere your mother nor anyone else would dare attack, and even thinking of being kept locked away in some isolated place terrifies you more than what these men could do, so you have to reach Astraea. But first, you have to escape these men.

You are close to the door so you can slip away when there’s an opening. You just need one more step. And you take it while not looking at the door to avoid giving them the idea that you are planning to escape. You just lift your foot up and put it back to get ready to quickly slip away.

Yet just at that precise moment, one of the men catches what you were plotting and immediately pulls his sword out to lunge forward, pointing the tip of the blade at your belly, the only place that will guarantee you to come to a complete stop.

“Not so fast,” he taunts and clicks his tongue.

Your breath falters but you don’t show your fear through your expression, you instead lift your nose in the air and clench your jaw to show frustration.

“Easy Angelo,” the second man warns the man as he sees where his friend points the blade. “We need her unharmed.”

The first man, Angelo scoffs and side-eyes the second man. “I’m no idiot. She just won’t try anything now, will you?” He directs at you as he starts walking around you without letting his threatening aim falter. However, you don’t respond, you just follow him with your eyes until he gets behind you with the tip of the blade now pointed at your back.

There’s room for threats, you could tell them that Aemond has Vhagar, the biggest dragon in the world, who can easily burn them to nothing but ash, but they know that. They know the firepower both sides carry, just like they know that you have a dragon of your own, so it means that they don’t care because they have you. They have the advantage, that’s what they know. But what about what you know?

No matter what has spread about you, they still doubt you. They don’t believe in your wrath, they’re ignorant to the picture others have painted of you because you’re a woman, a Princess who can’t have the capability of spreading such destruction.

That’s where they’re wrong though and you’re glad for it. You can thank their ignorance and their misogynistic views for that. And it’s because of the way they think that you easily find an escape. It is a bit more gruesome than you anticipated, but without a weapon of your own, you have no other choice but to be violent. They left you with no other choice but to fling your fist back just as he puts his sword away in an attempt to tie your hands together, and hit him right in the throat, making him stumble back as he starts to choke. You then swiftly spin around before he can recover, catching him reaching for his sword with one hand, so you hastily run at him and suddenly jump on him.

Once you’re clinging onto him the other guy shouts, whilst Angelo grabs a fistful of your hair to try and yank your head away, but since he’s still choking you manage to throw your head forward and sink your teeth on the side of his neck.

At first, your mind forbids you from sinking your teeth any deeper than you’re supposed to, but adrenaline and fear take control, so before you know it you bite through his flesh, causing blood to immediately flood out in your mouth and spill down your chin. You then yank your head back and rip a piece of flesh from his neck, rendering him nothing more than deadweight at that very moment.

No more taunting, and no more doubting. There’s just his blood as it squirts all over your chest and face until you let go of Angelo, and let him fall limply to the ground with a loud thud as you spit out the piece of him you ripped out.

“Angelo!” The other man shrieks, reminding you he’s there after feeling the rush of the moment cloud your mind.

“<That's right,>” you murmur in High Valyrian as you turn around and see how horrified the man is, to the point he stands there paralyzed with his widened eyes on his dead friend. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re there anymore, not until you snatch the sword from the man’s corpse. Even then he fails to counter, it just seems like his eyes are almost going to pop out of his skull when he sees the bottom part of your face, and your chest covered in his friend's blood.

Yet it’s his inability to react that makes him an easy but also disappointing target. You want him to put up a fight, but he returns his gaze to his friend and with his last breath utters the name, “Angelo.” You then lunge the blade through his stomach so hard that the blade comes out of the other end.

After both men are nothing but corpses spilling blood over the ground you drop the blade and lift your nose in the air as you take in heavy breaths and think of what to do next. There’s no doubt more Frey men are here, Lady Frey wouldn’t be stupid enough to come with just a couple. She should have come with a handful of men, and a handful of men is just enough to overwhelm you and lead you back to the same problem you were just in, but worse because you wouldn’t be able to escape more of them.

It’s why you need to take your chance now that you have it. There’s no more men coming. They don’t all know you’re here, not besides the two that you just killed going by what they said, so you can make your escape.

Alys is here too, but you don’t need to worry about her, she can take care of herself. And Ser Jason? Aemond had him locked away so he wouldn’t get you out, there’s no way you can reach him without getting caught, so…you have to make the hardest choice and leave him behind. You can’t get caught or you’ll just be locked away again, you’ll fall into the same trap that put you in danger in the first place, so you have to leave before they see you. Ser Jason will understand that.

“Sorry, Ser,” you murmur to yourself as you drop the blade and don’t hesitate a moment longer before you leave the room.

Once you're in the hallway though you come to a stop to try and hear if more men are approaching. When you hear nothing, you stick to the shadows and sneakily make your escape. Luckily the castle is large, with a lot of area to cover, so none of the men or Lady Frey have reached the corridors you stride down. They don’t occupy the courtyard you run down, but you do hear voices in the distance once you’re outside, they sound close, but they’re not on top of you yet, so you just quicken your pace.

When you make it out of the walls you stand against one and glance at the woods and open area. If Astraea is hunting she’ll hunt for deer or some bear or something since you’re not close to the sea for her to hunt her fish. The woods don’t offer her the space for her to catch her meals so she’d be roaming over the tree line, over the open fields where she has space and more visibility. That’s where you’ll find her, so going off instinct, you continue to run.

Running while pregnant is not easy though. Especially not with twins, not when you're six months along; they weigh you down and make you slower, but you don’t let that stop you. Not at this moment, you push yourself as much as your body lets you. Your heart quickly begins to race, your rushing blood thumps in your ears, and beads of sweat form on your forehead, but you don’t care, you keep running and running.

The need to keep straining yourself in order to find your dragon only grows tenfold when you hear men in the background shouting to catch you and return you to the castle before you can reunite with your dragon somewhere in the distance. And since they’re not carrying twins they’re faster than you. Since their legs aren’t throbbing with the additional weight or out of growing exhaustion, they’re faster.

They get closer and closer, making you keep pushing yourself, making you try to run faster because you can feel her nearby. She’s close, you can feel it. You just need to run faster. She’ll scare them off.

However, your efforts are proven useless when one of them manages to get the lead out of the others he’s with and throws his arms around you to yank you back, pulling you to a harsh stop, and preventing you from reaching your dragon.

“Let go of me!” You bellow and try to throw your elbow back, but two more men catch up and take ahold of your arms, making your efforts to escape fruitless. “I’m your princess!” You throw out and kick your feet as they start pulling you back, but they don’t care. They see the blood staining you and don’t care. And since a lot of men are returning you to the castle they don’t care about you kicking or squirming.

Your fight is nothing to them, which makes returning to the castle an easy effort and once you're inside you're taken to the Godswood right away where you're pushed to your knees in front of none other than Lady Serena Frey, an old shrewd who was recently widowed, and who apparently has nothing better to do.

“Princess,” the old woman greets you and curtsies which means nothing when you’re on your knees with your hands tied behind your back. “It’s an honor meeting you. I will say you look nothing like your brother.”

You clench your jaw and narrow your glare on her at the mere mention of your brother.

“I expected to come to a weakly defended castle, but alas you’re here,” she continues to talk confidently with her chin up in the air, relishing in a confidence she can only gain because there’s no dragon nearby, you’re on your knees, and she knows Aemond and your own mother are far to do her any harm. “You truly are a sight for sore eyes, Princess.”

You tilt your head slightly and finally break the silence you had kept since you were put before her “You would be rewarded handsomely if you deliver me to my mother without strings, don’t you know?”

Lady Frey steps forward and lets out a deep breath as she seems to weigh on what you say before she sighs and nods stiffly. “Perhaps I would be rewarded, but what’s better than the jewel to the Riverlands? I was promised to be its Castallen but alas the one who made the promise is dead. Killed by arrows I heard.”

Your breath falters, and you drop your eyes to the ground as you make the connection that it was Jacaerys that she was referring to this entire time. It was your sweet and now deceased brother. You realize that and the memory of him only stomps on the ashes of your heart, making you ache.

“And with you as my prisoner, the Prince Regent and The Queen would both willingly give me what I want without the need of waiting until the war has ended,” she adds as her eyes burn into your downcasted attention. “The only question is who will offer it to me first with good benefits.”

“You have dominion over the twins, what more do you need? Surely this castle can’t be worth more than that?” You spat as you slowly roll your eyes up to meet her gaze without that ache reflecting in your eyes. You make sure not to demonstrate your sorrow when meeting eye to eye.

“With your brother dead you will most likely be heir now, if not you will rule over somewhere important, and if not you will always be a spoiled princess pampered until your death, so you will never know our struggles,” she rebuttals spitefully. “You don’t know what it's like having to fight to live. Holding Harrenhal is a promise for a better life, and respect. So yes, Your Grace this castle is worth far more than the Twins.”

Alright…

You remain speechless and just hold her gaze fueled with determination for a moment, and actually feel a speck of admiration for her need to fight for better, but you know now nothing will get her to let you go. You know Aemond will answer first and you know where he will leave you. He’s leaving you no choice…

You didn’t want to fight back with fire or blood. Whatever the case the Frey’s are allied with your mother, they let the Northmen cross and some have fought alongside them for your mother, so they have been allies, but if you let them take you you know where you’ll end up. And the fear of being locked away, of being useless when you can be the key to something great, or even something small that can give someone an advantage, is consuming.

It’s why you can’t stand the idea of being locked away. It’s why you won’t stand being locked away a moment longer, or for a far longer time, even if it’s what Aemond thinks is for the best. Which is funny to think about as you're currently on your knees with your hands tied behind your back because this need to keep you here where he thought your safety was guaranteed is what put you in your current situation. And it was only 3 days after he left. Not months, days! So it’s kind of funny, no?

He surely wouldn’t think so, but it sure as hell is funny to you. You could almost laugh at the irony of it, and all for what?

If only he could see you now. If only he could see the situation HE put you in. Him. Not anyone else, him, him, him, and only him. And all because of what?! A fear you don’t understand after he’s witnessed your ability to fight, and to survive fire. And maybe yes he’s just looking out for you, for your unborn children, but the paranoia that held him by his throat put you in one of the very situations he was trying to avoid. His paranoia put you in this situation, him, and only him! And now he will see what he forced you to do to escape. You will make sure of it.

“Take her inside,” Lady Frey orders the men. “Being under the open sky is too dangerous.”

Smart, but alas not quick enough. You feel her nearby like a magnetizing connection pulled apart and aching to reconnect and become one again. Yet she’s not on top of you yet, close, but if they take you inside now she won’t be able to help you. Thus as the man grabs ahold of your arm and starts to pull you up, you snap your head around and throw your face forward to chomp down on the man's crotch.

The man screams out, of course, but does what you wanted him to do; he lets you go, letting you slowly push yourself to your feet with your eyes cast on the ground all while meeting no fight back. They know after all that hurting you would guarantee no offer to be met, so they don’t retaliate even if the other men itch too. They stand there in confusion watching you draw in and draw heavy breaths out while your eyes stay focused on the ground, unknown to the fact that your mind is thinking about what you’re being forced to do, and what you’re about to do.

They see you there at a standstill and see an opening to recapture you. However, they quickly come to a stop before they can try anything when they catch you slowly lifting your head and slowly painting a different expression on your features.

Rather than expressing disappointment and guilt, your eyebrows start to pinch together, the corner of your lips begin to curl, your nose flares, and in your eyes, a fury is lit within that was not burning there before. One so threatening and furious that Lady Frey starts to realize something is looming nearby; something big, and something far more dangerous than any human, than you, or anything here. Something that is finally heard in the cloud bank above. Something they know to escape right away, but alas they’re far too late.

“Dracarys,” you utter one single word just above a whisper. And without the need to repeat yourself or even be heard by the creature hidden in the cloud back, a great fire rains down from above, ridding the sky of every cloud that hid her, and bathing you and every single soul around you except for one, in a life-consuming fire that leaves only you standing there with your nose in the air, heavy breaths escaping past your lips, and tears of anger welling in your eyes. All while the sole survivor runs away without looking back. All he knows is you came out unscathed, that’s all he cares to acknowledge after his escape because he fears you’ll go after him.

Albeit how can you when your mind is stuck on the fact of that matter that you didn’t want to kill them? You didn’t want to burn them and leave yourself naked in the middle of the Godswood, but Aemond pushed you to. Aemond left you here…and it’s because he left that you had to do it.

Why? Why did he have to leave? Why did he leave you behind?

You were going to leave after he accidentally pushed you, but if he had asked you to accompany him on his wrath around the Riverlands you would have accepted. And why wouldn’t you? But he left and he put your life in danger. He left and you had to burn them, you had to use fire. You had to kill the other two and leave your face covered in blood. You had to because of him. Him. Him!

Well, now he will see what he forced you to do. He will see what his actions led to. He will return expecting to see you still locked away in those chambers, but you’ll be long gone, all that will be left of you is the remnants of what you did, what he caused, and what his fear pushed you to do.

Aemond will return and see burnt bodies on the ground, and Lady Frey and a few others hanging from the Weirwood tree. He will see that he was wrong. He will face his mistake and your wrath.

He will see and you make sure of it all by yourself. It is taxing, only because you had to fling the bodies over the branches, but you did it. You left a gruesome scene and even though you have done bad things before, usually you’re basked with pride and confidence since you’re proving that you’re so much more, that you are strong, but this time as you look up at the bodies from the ground all you can do is cry as you’re hit with a wave of guilt for the first time.

You try to wipe the tears off your face, but hot streaks keep rolling down your cheeks, breaking through the dry blood that pampers your face, and only making your emotions clear to anyone with eyes. And when it comes to Alys and Ser Jason finally coming out to meet you in the Godswood that confidence that you usually carry like some mask after you fight is even more impossible to be bothered to be put on.

You try to paint yourself as unfazed. You try hard, after all, they were just stupid people who threatened your life. Yet when you turn to face Alys and give your back to the Weirwood tree carrying those burnt bodies, your bottom lip starts to tremble, your pinched eyebrows falter from their hardened hold, and your eyes, oh, your eyes, they scream your agony in such a way that Ser Jason thinks your pain is ethereal, and that the gruesome scene behind you is like a part of some beautifully tragic embroidered art piece on a tapestry.

“I have to go home,” is what you can muster through it all. “Will you come with me?” You direct at Alys, and she first approaches you to block your exposed body from your sworn protector and then gives you a response that comes easily to her.

“No. My place is here,” she says and only makes more tears run down your face, reminding her how young you really are in the grand scheme of things. You might’ve recently had a name day, but as she sees you before her with your face screaming the agony you’re under, she remembers that you shouldn’t be put through these trials and tribulations. You’re too young, but you’re forced just like many before you.

“But don’t fret my friend, will see each other again,” she uses a soft voice she had forgotten she was able to use. “Soon.”

You believe her, no doubt about it, so you nod gently.

“You send me a raven if you find yourself in trouble, and if Aemond—”

“I know how to avoid him,” she cuts you off to assure you. “Don’t worry. You just go back home to your boy and your mother. I will be fine. I always have.”

You nod again and just before you can go change, you take in a breath to say something else. “Thank you, for letting me find peace with my father,” you say shakily. “And for…letting me find myself. I know who I am, and what my place is in this story now because of you Alys, so…thank you. I will never ever forget what you did for me here, and I know you said it already, but if you want we can be lifelong friends. I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

Alys blinks repeatedly and her own lips tremble but she musters a confident but sweet smile. “Of course. I would…really love that.”

You swallow thickly and nod in comprehension before you wrap your arms around her to pull her in for an embrace. “Thank you,” you whisper and hold onto her tighter, feeling her carefully return your embrace.

After a moment of lingering in each other's arms, you pull back and look at Ser Jason past Alys’ shoulder. “Get ready, Ser. We’re going home.”

———

*SOMETIME LATER*

The last time you returned to King’s Landing was after leaving Dragonstone, and you were met with an arrow that barely missed your dragon. There was hostility where there shouldn’t have been any, and this time around it’s not all so different. Sure, an arrow isn’t shot at Astraea this time, so your life isn’t put in danger, but you are met with perhaps a more dangerous threat; two dragons roaming the skies they never lose sight of you as they approach you the closer you get to the city, fearing that the monster of Aemond’s dragon would descend at any moment.

Alas, their fear is misplaced, you don’t come as a threat. You could be one, the two people upon their dragons know that, but you’ve come home in peace. And perhaps now you look like some dog running back with its tail between its legs. And in some form, you are running back home, but it’s not out of cowardice. More so realization that your mother’s side is where you always belonged.

Hopefully, she gets to understand that and hasn’t given up on you even though she’s had every right to, and has most likely had snakes whispering in her ear telling her to stop putting a candle out for your return—and yes, you may still have some sort of hateful bias toward the snake called Daemon, that he doesn’t deserve any more. It’s been proven that he’s just an asshole and nothing more, but still! He’s most likely told her to view you as an enemy because it would make fighting her war easier.

And perhaps she should kill you. The whispers that have spread about the realm are not cruel rumors, you supported Aemond in taking Harrenhal, and you took part in the massacre of House Strong, so yes you were a devoted Green. You are a traitor to your mother’s side!

But you’ve seen your wrongs, you’re not tormented anymore. She needs to see that. You keep pleading to yourself that she does, that she forgives your wrongs and doesn’t truly cast you aside like you’ve feared she would so many times before.

She needs to see it. Please, please don’t let her forsake you.

“Give me your hand,” Ser Jason offers his help, but you jump off the ladders hanging down Astraea and land perfectly on the ground—“o-kay.”

The flapping of dragon wings claps in the sky louder and louder way before a long shadow starts to cast over you.

Yet even as the dragon is approaching you you avoid giving them your attention, you direct it to Astraea instead as you approach her head and lift your hand to gently stroke her face.

However, after a moment passes you can't help yourself from drifting your attention to the sky where you see Seasmoke.

You see him and your mind immediately goes to your father, what you just found out not so long ago in the form of dreams, and in some way, in some form a part of you expects him to be on that dragon. You wish for him to be on that dragon, but the truth breaks through your delusion just as quickly as it built up and you come out disappointed that you know it’s just Addam.

“And so the prodigal daughter returns,” his taunting voice hits your ears, making you press your hand firmly against your dragon whilst you slowly drag your attention to Daemon now on the ground departing from his dragon. “Which begs the question, friend or foe? Should I expect your Kinslayer of a husband to surprise attack us?”

You see him now, and not just a glimpse of him, you see all of him and he has his hand resting on Dark Sister with a not-so-lax hold as if anticipating a fight. Which is smart on his behalf.

“No,” you deadpan with no effort to sound kind or warm. “I have escaped his clutches while he’s away. I have returned to fight for The Queen…if she’ll have me.”

Daemon's gaze roams your body, noticing how tense your shoulders are, but not seeing any part of you twitch in a form to give away that you’re lying. Your voice is harsh and serious, no taunting or cockiness clings onto it, it just gives away your distaste for him but not anything else that should worry him. It’s why he chooses to trust you, and well, your mother had already told him that she wanted to see you when your dragon was first sighted in the sky.

“Of course, she’ll have you,” Daemon mutters, making your breath falter. “But your sworn protector needs to give me his sword, and Astraea needs to go to the Dragonpit.”

You snap your eyes to Astraea, and her own gaze turns to you which only makes your turmoil that much worse.

“It’s for safety measures,” Daemon adds as he takes note of your hesitance “Just hours ago you were the enemy. And even now when you enter the Red Keep and I follow you in who knows what can happen, do you understand?”

You swallow back nervously, and as you keep looking at Astraea as if your actions will physically wound her, you nod gently in agreement.

“Good.”

You can’t say it hurt you more to chain your dragon in the dragon pit because she’s been spoiled most of her life, so now she’s restless when it comes to being in chains and unable to sleep under the endless sky, so she’s hurt and when she’s hurt you feel it too.

Yet that pain doesn’t compare to the agony that you’re hit with when you step inside the Red Keep and forget Jacaerys is gone. You were so used to having him greet you whether it be with a furrowed brow or warm smile that you wait for him to come meet you and Daemon when you’re walking to the throne room. You expect him to walk around a corridor in a very heavy and quick stride. You anticipate seeing him—no, desire seeing him meet you halfway, but just as you turn the corner to reach the throne room, it hits you, he’s gone. Not temporarily, he’s not off handling something for your mother, he’s gone forever. He’s never going to come meet you ever again with either a smile or a bothered look.

You remember that and it shakes what little confidence you had mustered to talk to your mother. Now when those doors open and you’re greeted with the great image of her on that throne tears accompany your eyes, the corners of your lips are downturned, and sorrow and anxiety make themselves evident. There’s no holding them back anymore, it’s clear to Rhaena and Baela standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, and your grandfather, The Hand, standing below the steps that lead to the Iron Throne. And most importantly your emotions are loud and clear to your mother. Not the Queen, your mother.

Yes, she looks at you like she can’t believe you’re walking down the great hall. She couldn’t believe you were returning when she saw Astraea, nor could she believe she was hearing your title and name be announced the moment the doors opened, but alas here you are, striding to her with no pep in your step, no air of cockiness and arrogance around you. All she sees is her wounded daughter. Her weakness that crumbles her own mask and softens her heart hardened after Jacaerys death.

“Your Grace,” you greet and immediately go down on one knee, causing Ser Jason to do the same behind you.

Like before when you came to greet Aegon as King for the first time you keep your eyes downcasted. This time though it’s not to fake innocence, this time you can’t lift your eyes out of fear of what you’ll see, especially as you hear her get off the throne and hear her footsteps descend the stairs.

“I have come to swear my fealty to ward the Queen,” you proclaim with an attempt at confidence. “I know my word means nothing. Word has spread about what I was a part of at Harrenhal, and I will not say it happened against my will because I would be lying. I did it. I took part in killing House Strong, and I don’t regret it. I had my reasons. Just like I had my reasons to leave your side…” you trail off as you avoid giving those reasons so no problems would arise.

“But,” you add with a hint of softness. “I see my wrongdoings. I was wrong, I see it now. My place is here, by your side, My Queen. My place has always been at your side.” You nod in agreement to your words and still don’t look at her even if she now stops before you.

“I’m sorry I fell astray. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I wouldn’t have to take part in fighting, or any royal matters. I just want your forgiveness and for you to let me return to my place by your side…please,” your voice quivers on that last word. Not to make yourself sound more convincing, you just couldn’t control your emotions.

And either way, no matter how you would’ve sounded, or what word you used at the end, your mother still presses two fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to make you meet her gaze, and let you see tears that well in her eyes and the softness that reflects back at you.

“Rise,” she orders, and you slowly stand to your feet, letting her eyes fall to your belly that sticks out now before her gaze finds yours again.

“Your Grace,” you say breathily with the need to say so much more. You’re on the verge of a breakdown, but as you’re on your feet you can see the other people in the hall, you feel their eyes on you, so those two words are all you utter.

“Should we expect an attack from Vhagar now that you have left?” Daemon interrupts the moment, causing you and your mother to snap your gaze to him at the same time—“It’s said Cole has taken his army away from Harrenhal, where does he march?”

“He aims to join the Hightower,” you don’t fret to share. “But alas they’re taking the most obvious route so it’s a waiting game now to see if they can win against the Northmen and the Rivermen.”

Daemon scoffs and you continue more hesitantly now.

“And Aemond…is smart, once he finds out I’m gone he’ll be upset, but he wouldn’t dare come when he knows he’s at a disadvantage, besides, he wants you to go out to meet him.”

A teasing smile flashes on Daemon’s face that he hides by looking down.

“He left me at Harrenhal, locked me in our quarters to be protected, but Lady Serena Frey invaded Harrenhal with the intention of taking me captive to give me to the highest bidder,” you share and look back at your mother. “She said she was promised Harrenhal and wanted to take it by force. She's dead now,” you announce coldly. “They all are. That’s how I escaped.”

Your mother looks at you, not with fear at what she heard, but with a curiosity that she doesn’t express. It just gleams in her eyes.

“Good,” Daemon praises you.

“My sword is yours now,” you reassure your mother. “I will bleed for you, and I will use fire on your enemies now and until the day I die.”

Your mother draws in a deep breath and blinks repeatedly as she very lightly shakes her head before she grabs your shoulder with one hand and then cups your cheek with the other, making you draw in a deep shaky breath.

“Don't turn your back on me again,” she says, but not threateningly. There’s not even a hint of it, it’s more like she was pleading you not to more than anything.

“I swear,” you immediately respond, making her lips twitch up but not to form a smile just yet.

“<Welcome back home,>” she whispers and presses her forehead against yours, making tears slip out of your eyes, but not feel assured just yet. Not until you tell her everything you have trapped in your throat.

“<And thank you. For saving your brother, Aegon,>” she adds, making you pull your head back to offer her a smile and sweet words.

“<Of course.>”

You then step back and glance at your grandfather and offer him a stiff nod to acknowledge him, but that’s all, something venomous still churns inside at the thought of him.

When you look at the twins though, you can muster a short smile before you look back at your mother and finally get to what you’ve been itching to address. “Aerion?”

“Guarded by your dog,” Daemon chuckles, making you roll your eyes to him—“he’s as loyal as a hound that one. That’s the only reason why he still breathes.”

So Ser Cane has been protecting him this entire time? Good!

“May I go see him?” You ask your mother just in case she wants to touch on other matters and to let her take care of other trivial matters now that you’re back.

“Of course,” she doesn’t keep you waiting. She lets you go without anything else to add. Nothing to restrict you, after all, you’re her only biological daughter, you’re her child, and after losing three already, how could she even think of doing anything to hurt you in any way whether it be emotionally or physically?

If she could, she would lock you away like Aemond did, that would guarantee your safety, but she knows her limits, so she lets you go without any interjections.

Yet, close is all you get to Aerion. Before you can turn the corner that leads to his chambers you hesitate out of slight fear.

He’s a baby, nine months old to be exact, but it’s been four months since you last saw him. What if he cries when you try to hold him? What if he wants nothing to do with you? You would deserve his rejection, you haven’t been in his life for a short time, but it doesn’t mean that you want to mean nothing to your son.

But if you do mean nothing, if that fear becomes a reality then you have to face it, don’t you? You have no other option. Thus you draw out a deep breath before you turn the corner and get greeted with Ser Cane outside the door.

“Ser,” you announce your presence and gain his immediate attention.

“Princess,” he tries to sound serious but you hear the hint of surprise that matches the surprise in his eyes. “You've returned. Welcome back home.”

The corner of your lips tug to a gentle smile at the sound of his warm greeting. “It’s good to be home,” you say in return as you come to a brief stop before him. “I’m glad they have spared you, and I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I didn’t know it was going to happen.”

Ser Cane shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, Princess. I have been through worse.”

You shake your head gently. “In any case I am sorry.”

Ser Cane shakes his head as well and speaks with determination clinging to every word. “I am your sworn protector and that of your son. My life and my sword are yours. To die protecting you and the little lord would be a good and honorable death. I would want it no other way regardless of which side you decide to fight on.”

Your breath hitches and you nod in comprehension. “Thank you, my good knight,” you whisper, making him bow his head before he opens the door for you.

“Go on, I’m sure he’s still awake.”

You swallow back nervously and take a peek inside first, but don’t see him, Vanessa, or any of his caretakers. You hoped they would be just across the door, but alas you have to step inside. And when you do, you do so with your eyes averted as if you’re ashamed of walking in.

“Princess?!” You hear Vanessa’s voice call out to you from across the room, bringing you to a stop but not making you raise your gaze just yet.

“You’re back? When did you arrive?” She continues asking so you answer.

“Not so long ago,” you speak quietly with shame clinging onto every word as if high-born ladies didn’t leave their children for long periods of time, as if being gone was such a great sin when it isn’t. It’s common for high-born ladies to be away from their children, but that’s not the mother you wanted to be because that’s not the kind of mother that raised you.

“I’m sorry,” you can’t hold back anymore, striking Vanessa with surprise and bringing herself to a stop as she made her way to you.

“For what?” She queries.

You blink repeatedly and then slowly drag your eyes up, feeling your breath escape your lips when you see Aerion awake in her arms, looking right at you with his father's blue eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Vanessa adds to try and reassure you. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

You glance at her and nod in comprehension before you look back at Aerion as he’s unable to keep his eyes off you as if trying to figure you out.

“<Aerion,> You coo and whatever fear and hesitation you held falls completely when you see how big he’s gotten, and how big and healthy he looks

“<Hello, my little love,>” you continue as you slowly start to make your way toward him, hoping he won’t turn away from you.

“Look at you,” Vanessa interjects. “Six months along and you look so much bigger. I suppose twins do that though, huh? Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything to eat? Tea?”

You look at your handmaiden and shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. Just…relieved to be back with Aerion. And you.”

She huffs and when you walk over and reach her you cup her cheek first, letting her mirror your action but then also start stroking your cheek gently.

“I’m happy you have returned,” she says sweetly, making you smile. “You must tell me everything, and I will give you something that came for you.”

You scoff at her cheeky smile but offer her an agreeing nod before you let her go and give your attention to your son, feeling your eyes soften right away, and feeling a spark where your heart once used to be.

“<Hello my boy, it’s me, your mama.>” You whisper in the most gentle voice so you don’t startle him, and he spares a glance at Vanessa before he meets your gaze and leans towards you to reach his hands out.

You gasp softly and feel your eyes sting with tears as you don’t hesitate to take him and carry him yourself, feeling how much heavier he is now. “<I have so much to tell you>,” your voice quivers as you stroke the side of his head whilst he reaches for the siren necklace Aemond gifted you. “<Like I missed you so much, and,” you laugh softly. “Guess what? I met your little brother in a vision. Not the twins, someone we have yet to meet.>”

With no care to what you’re saying Aerion lays his head on your shoulder as he clutches onto the Siren, making you let out a happy cry before you hug him tightly against you with the inability to stop pressing kisses on his head.

“I love you,” you whisper against his head and then nuzzle your nose in his head of white-silver hair, going unaware of the fact that your mother stood past the doors with the intention of walking in, but stopping the moment she catches you sharing such a sweet moment with your son and not being able to help her blissful smile.

It’s been a while since she’s smiled, since she’s felt bliss, but as she sees you with your own little one that’s all she feels, bliss.

.

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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

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. “<I love you.>”

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.”

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A/N- something wicked this way comes ;(;

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