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Chapter Text

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

With a spell gone wrong, Cressida Black's life was cut short just as she was beginning to live freely. Yet, she is given a second chance at life. Reborn as Aurelia Martell, youngest child of the Princess of Dorne and her second husband, she quickly realizes this new world is no less dangerous than the one she first lived in.

She's a Princess of the single remaining independent kingdom in Westeros and that means she must be on constant guard. Yet, she knew her house would survive, she knew her house would proper. Her house words ensured as much. Once, they had been Toujours Pur, yet now it was Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. And so they would remain. They would survive, no matter what. Where other houses had lions and bears as their sigils, they had a speared sun which was twice as deadly. What killed others would not kill them.

And, Aurelia clutched those thoughts close to her heart when Ilaria Martell's heart stopped beating and she was given to the Mother Rhoyne. Her tether to safety was gone, but she would not let herself be subdued by it. In another life she'd been born a Black and now she was a Martell, a princess. She'd ensure she thrived, while still honoring her mother.

When her eldest brother sends her to court and she is scorned for her ways, she remembers that Martells survive where others die. When the Hand suggests she is not suitable company for the Princess or for the Queen, she reminds herself that a sun and spear are far more deadly than any Tower and that she wields more power than any second son of a vassal house might have.

And, as she is called home by her brother and told the reason is marriage to the Rogue Prince, she reminds herself that the Martells have already triumphed over the Targaryens before.

The sun is more lethal than any dragon and she intends to make sure her husband remembers that.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓

Naomi Scott as Aurelia Martell (Cressida Black)

Matt Smith as Daemon Targaryen

Mena Massoud as Morgan Martell

David Oakes as Edrick Manderly

Amita Suman as Liane Dayne

Blanca Suarez as Keira of Volantis

Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey as Marianne Dondarrion

Anita Briem as Emilee Strong

Diane Kruger as Viserra Targaryen

Charlize Theron as Saera Targaryen

Alan Van Sprang as Adrian Swann

Essie Davis as Septa Mae

Jeremy Irons as Vaegon Targaryen

Helen McCrory as Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon

Milly Alcock and Emma d'Arcy as Rhaenyra Targaryen

Emily Carey and Olivia Cooke as Alicent Hightower

Ryan Corr as Harwin Strong

Lee Pace and Paddy Considine as Viserys I

Alexandra Dowling as Giselle Manderly

Bella Dayne as Alyce Manderly

Natalie Dormer as Rowena Manderly

Kaya Scodelario as Johanna Swann

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

Strong language, sexual situations, bloodshed, domestic violence, childbirth, death, incest.

Chapter Text

92 - 111 AC

𝖲𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾, 

𝖲𝖺𝗒, 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾 𝖨? 

[...]

𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋, 

𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾

“Look like the innocent flower,

But be the serpent under it.”

― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

𝙀𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙑𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙨, 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙉𝙖𝙢𝙚, 𝘼𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙭 𝙁𝙞𝙫𝙚: 𝘼𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘯-𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘈𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘐𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢.

𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯-𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢’𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘴’ 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵-𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴, “𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺”, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘻𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘈𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯.

"I will never be all goodness, all peace, all gentleness.

Is that what you want of me?

To be wholly light, made up of only pretty half-truths and 

soft hands?

I am not,"

— eira c. briallen, untitled

Chapter Text

Cressida was woken by a not so gentle nudge to her ribs, and she jerked upwards as her eyes flew open, anger and fear warring; anger that anyone would wake her so roughly; and fear because that’s how her mother did so when she was younger.

But it wasn’t her mother looming over her, an angry, disgusted expression on her face. No, it was a solidly built man with blonde hair and a fierce scowl on his face.

“Get up,” he spat crossly, thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

Cressida scrambled to her feet, baffled. Not only because of the unfamiliar man, but because her body did not ache as it usually did, from the burns she had received in the Romanian sanctuary and all the wounds gained throughout the war and through her work as a curse breaker. Her profession was not particularly safe and a day at work wasn’t successful if she did not have at least a few new scrapes. And, yet, her body did not ache. Not like it usually did when she was in the middle of a case, at least.

She looked down at herself, surprised to see that not only was she wearing a long, white greek-style dress, but what was truly shocking was how clean and smooth her skin was. There was no trace of the scars she had gained with the dragons or of the many injuries she had gained fighting in the war. No trace of the cuts and scrapes received as a consequence of being a mom of three or from her job crawling through old crypts and monuments.

How...? She did not know where she was, or how she had ended up in this throne room. The last she remembered, she’d been in Hungary, in the ruins of an old castle, working to bring down the wards leading down to the vault where a long dead family had kept their valuables.

“Who are you, how did you get past the wards?” Cressida asked, turning so she could look at the room in its entirety. "And how did you manage to incapacitate me and move me?"

"There are no wards that could stop me, Cressida Black," the man smirked. "Do you not understand what has happened?"

“What has happened?” Cressida asked as she moved closer to him, only to gasp in shock at what she saw.

Down on the floor, by the mysterious man, was the body of a woman in her early thirties. One would be forgiven for assuming she was sleeping, for she looked peaceful. The lack of the rise and fall of her chest was the only thing that hinted at her state. And, yet, it would take more for her to truly accept things.

“You’re dead,” the man said bluntly, and Cressida’s head snapped up from her own motionless body.

“What?”

“You died, only a few days ago,” the man continued, unfazed by her reaction. “One of the spells you used backfired and brought down the ruins with you among them. But if that hadn’t happened, it was only a matter of time. You were meddling with magic beyond your concern. Using it was going to kill you either way."

Cressida gaped at the man, thoughts whirring through his mind.

The man stared at her, cross and unimpressed. Cressida straightened, remembering all the lessons of her childhood. Smile, suck in, deep breath. Don’t show your fear, wear an armor around you. “Who are you?”

“Apollo,” the man said simply, brow raised.

“Apollo?” Cressida questioned, her voice tinted with disbelief. “The god of prophecy? Twin to Lady Artemis, goddess of the wilderness?”

“Yes, yes,” the man — Lord Apollo — said, nodding. “I asked to be the one to greet you, so I might do this." Cressida yelped as Apollo slapped her roughly, a deep sneer on his handsome face. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Cressida backed up, straightening her spine. “What’s wrong with me? What have I ever done to insult you? I should be the one asking that. I was only ever devout to the gods, I paid you every respect you were due and more and yet I paid the ultimate price!”

“While you did not buy into everything your mother preached, you never delved into exploring your gifts and that was the greatest offense you could have given us.”

“Gifts?” Cressida scoffed. “What gifts? I was a witch, just like any other. There is nothing special about me.”

“Nothing special?” Apollo laughed. “Then what would you call your dreams? What would you call the images you could see in bodies of water or in fires? The bond you formed with the fire beasts?”

“Clairvoyance. The Third Eye. Divination. Foresight,” she spat. “Whatever you want to call it, it’s a curse. But not a gift.”

“Hecate and I blessed you with the Second Sight, insolent girl,” the god snarled. “And you squandered your gift, refusing it. And that put you all at a disadvantage during your silly war. And it became part of your downfall. Instead of paying heed to the glimpses of the future we sent you, you tried to avoid them, drowning yourself in tonics so you would be free of them.”

“How was I supposed to know how to handle those visions?” Cressida crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “I had an emotionally absent mother and an unstable upbringing. All those visions ever did was make me believe I was going crazy.”

“You grew up in a house filled with books that reach back to the days magic wasn’t hidden, when we were worshipped publicly. You had all the knowledge you needed right there. You just never cared enough to look for it.”

“I would have been shunned,” she whispered. “Or kidnapped and Imperiused for someone’s gain.”

“Now we’re talking,” the blonde man smiled. “You were scared for yourself and refused to do what was needed.”

“How could I not be?” Cressida sighed. “Life wasn’t exactly easy, was it?”

“It wasn’t, but I was tasked with deciding your fate,” the god spoke, a strange glint on his eye. “You see, we take turns deciding on the afterlife of mortals, eternal bliss or eternal punishment and the sort, yet…I think I shall do something different with you.”

“So no blissful afterlife?” Cressida scoffed. “Figures.”

“You’ll get a new chance if you so wish for it,” Apollo explained. “Of course, we cannot send you back to the world you know, but you will have another chance at life if you so wish for it.”

"In this new life will I still be….well…me?"

Apollo smiled brightly. "That is for you to learn. I cannot say what comes next."

"Right, then," Cressida muttered realizing she wasn't going to be getting anything out of him. She knew she was taking a big gamble but she wasn't ready to die yet. She had barely begun to live. And she doubted whatever world he threw her to would much worse than the world she had lived in before. She had survived a war to ensure her children would grow in a happier world than she had. She could face whatever new world she was thrown into. "Let's get on with it."

Apollo nodded and came towards her. He seemed to grow even taller as he neared the witch and Cressida literally had to tip her head all the way back just so she could take him in.

He towered over her and Cressida was sure that he was more than seven feet. Apollo reached one into his pocket and pulled out something. She blinked in surprise. 

A small, thin, dark brown stick was held in between his tanned fingers. Her wand. Her first wand. Eleven inches, cedar wood with a core made up of veela hair. It had served her for years, before being broken in an ambush. She hadn’t been able to replicate her bond with it with any of the other wands she had tried, much to her chagrin.

“Where did you get that?”

“Foolish question," Apollo said in exasperation. "I have my ways, Princess, and it doesn't matter at any rate. The only thing that matters is what I am about to do."

"And what is that?"

In answer there was a swift and decisive snap and Cressida watched with astonishment as her wand was broken in two.

Before she could even protest however, a swirling sphere of dark blue light appeared from the remains of her wand which the god took in his hand. She blinked and he was suddenly inches away from her and pressing the hand with the light against her chest.

The sensation that filled her was one of both pleasure and pain, the feeling of soaring through the skies next to Charlie and of being crucio’d all at once. She felt hot and cold at the same time as well as a sort of paralysis that rendered her unable to move as the horrible sensations continued.

"What…did…you…do?" She asked through gritted teeth and the god only responded by picking up the broken pieces of her wand and  incinerating them. 

"You won't be needing that silly stick any longer. And now it's your turn." 

"What….are….you…..doing?"

"A parting gift," the god said calmly. "You may have need of it in the world I am sending you to. Until we meet again….farewell Cressida Black.” Apollo met her eyes and brought two fingers to her forehead. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, Cressida collapsed into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

"Oh, Your Highness, she is so beautiful….you and Lord Adrian have been blessed by the gods, no doubt. What else could we call two children in less than one year?”

When the brunette opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find that she was basked in a strong light.

Where am I? She wondered. Where did Apollo send me?

When her eyes finally focused, she realized she was staring up into the face of a beautiful woman with dark hair, a few shades darker than her own, and tanned skin. She had amber eyes and a clear unlined face that was slightly sweaty as if she had just gone through a rigorous physical activity.

"She certainly is," said the unknown woman who was looming above her. “Go and tell my husband we have a daughter.”

Cressida heard the sound of a door shutting and suddenly she felt herself being picked up and turned slightly so the woman who she took to be her caretaker was only partially in her view. The rest of her view was consumed by a desert and some mismatched buildings built on top of it.

“Welcome, my daughter,” the woman murmured. “Look at all of that. This is Dorne, and though your brothers will inherit before you, it is all yours.”

I hope I still have my magic here, Cressida thought anxiously. It would be very difficult to live without it.

She felt an odd tingling in her veins and then remembered Apollo pressing his finger to her forehead and the horrible sensations that had followed after.

A parting gift, he had said it was. And what a parting gift it was.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"What's her name, Amma?" A little boy asked in a babyish voice.

"Her name is Aurelia, Morgan,” Ilaria replied. "But you can call her Aura or Leah for now. Aurelia might be too complicated for you at the moment.”

“Aura,” Morgan said thoughtfully as if he were testing how the word sounded. "I like it."

"I do, too," Ilaria replied with amusement. "So does your father. And do you remember our house words?"

“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken,” the little boy replied proudly. even if he butchered all of the words in some way or another.

"That's right," Ilaria replied as she sat next to the her children on the bed. She appeared pleased. "And as you grow up, those words will mean more to you as it comes along. You'll need to teach them to Aura too. She's going to need to know them and to memorize them and to keep them in her heart. Never forget that we are stronger together, my son. We can only be unbowed, unbent and unbroken if we stand together and don’t forget our blood.”

Aurelia was listening carefully to the words of her new mother and unknown to her, some of the tension in her heart had eased at hearing those words.

Ilaria Martell was a little worried however as she sat there in her bed watching her young son look down at his younger sister.

While she was grateful for all of her children, she was beginning to become a little worried that Qoren hadn’t warmed up to Adrian yet.

They had been married for three years now and while she had understood her son’s reluctance in the beginning, now it was pure rebellion. His father was dead and buried and her remarriage had helped forge a peace among the Marches. She worried for the future of her family and for her children if her firstborn didn’t let go of his grudge against his stepfather.

Patience Lari, she thought to herself. It will all be in the gods’ good timing. There is a reason for everything they do, isn't there?

She wanted to believe that was true, and really had no other choice than to believe so.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

In the months that follow, the girl who used to be Cressida Black, and isn't quite sure who she is now, discovers much about her new home and family. 

She learns that her new mother is named Ilaria Martell, and she is the ruling Princess of a land known as 'Dorne'. 

She learns that her father is Adrian Swann, and he is her mother’s second husband. Before, her mother had been married to a man called Vorian Jordayne, but he had died when fighting broke out in a place called the Marches. To broker a peace, her parents then married since he was the second son of a powerful family in that place.

She learns that she has two older brothers, Qoren — who is from her mother’s first marriage — and Morgan, who was also fathered by Adrian.

She had been born into part of a land called Westeros, made up of seven kingdoms with each one ruled by a different family. Her family, the Martells, ruled over Dorne which was the southernmost kingdom and the only one to still be independent from the Targaryens, a family of dragon lords who had conquered over the rest of the continent.

Dorne was the only one of the kingdoms to practice equal-primogeniture and her mother was the Ruling Princess. Qoren would follow her in sitting the Sun Chair, while she and Morgan would end up marrying to create alliances for the family.

She learns that her new name is Aurelia, and she is her parents’ youngest child and only daughter.

She learns that her eldest brother doesn’t like her father.

All of this she is told, in the soft rambling way that many people speak to babies, never expecting them to understand. 

But for herself, she observes much more.

She sees that her parents love another even if the marriage was arranged. They have never said the words where she can hear them, but she can deduce it from the way the act together. 

Her first word is 'Amma', because for the moment, her mother is the most important thing in the world’s for her. In her first life, she did not have a loving mother. And now that she has Ilaria, she will make sure to appreciate her all the more. She wants to give her mother everything, but for now she will settle for this. 

Her second word is 'dada', because she saw her father’s disappointment that unlike Morgan, she called for her mother first and decided to throw him a boon.

The third word she speaks is 'Oren', because she had been a Slytherin to age core in her first life and she knows how to pull people's strings like puppets. The smile that crosses her brother’s face when she babbles his name at him is proof that she made the right choice to call for him.

Another thing she had learned was that the religion in Westeros was very strange.

She knew some people — mainly in the North — still followed the Old Gods, but most of the continent followed the Seven and she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the pantheon.

The purebloods in England remembered their origin and followed the Greek gods, honoring them and their power. But it wasn’t an organized religion like she knew the muggles had or like the Faith of the Seven seemed to be.

The sept in Sunspear was rather large and almost everyone in the keep prayed there at some time or another.

Aurelia was a little unnerved how deep the faith ran here and it served as an added incentive to keep her magic hidden. There was no telling how the people here in Westeros would take the idea of a major noble having magic.

At best, she would be labelled as a heretic and at worst, religious people would begin calling for her head.

She needed to keep it to herself, at least for right now.

Aurelia much preferred the gods her parents privately kept to. They reminded her of her own gods from her first life. Praying to gods of water, air and storms was much more preferable to her than praying to the Mother or the Smith. Her mother kept to the religion of the Rhoynar, their ancestress who had founded the House of Nymeros Martell, while her father prayed to the parents of Elenei, gods of the sea and the wind. Praying to them came easier than praying to the Seven.

When she was two, Aurelia slipped away from her septa and rushed to the library where she used her magic to levitate down from the shelves two large books on the greater and the lesser houses of Westeros as well as one on the History of Westeros as well.

Needless to say, what she found was mind boggling.

She was descended from a warrior princess. Nymeria of Ny Sar had led her people to Dorne in order to escape a war with the Valyrian Freehold. She married Mors Martell in a beneficial alliance between them and their descendants had ruled Dorne ever since.

And she learned that there still was some magic in this world, hidden as it may be. 

The clearest example of magic existing was the Targaryen dragons.

Two hundred years ago, they had escaped the Valyrian Freehold because of a dream the lord’s daughter had of the city’s destruction. And a century ago, Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives launched an invasion into Westeros and conquered six of the seven kingdoms, Dorne being the only one to successfully keep its independence. 

When Aurelia read the words sister-wives she had to do a double take because she was so horrified.

The Targaryens believed in keeping their bloodlines clean and so wedding brother to sister was something that was commonplace in the royal family. Aegon had one son with each of his wives and they had both ruled as kings, one being a weakling and the other being called The Cruel. Then came the Conqueror’s grandchildren, the Old King, Jaehaerys, with his cousin-wife, Alysanne, the Good Queen. 

At first Aurelia felt supreme disgust but then, she remembered that acts of incest had been common among the pureblood wizards and witches when she had still been Cressida Black as well. Wizarding Britain had practiced cousin marriages, especially to settle inheritance disputes and the such, but to think about siblings marrying one another…it was a disgusting thought.

There are some things I will never escape, she mused. Still, she comforted herself knowing that her heart and memories were the same for Aurelia Martell as they were when she was Cressida Black. That had not changed, even if her appearance had.

Her hazel eyes had become amber to match her mother’s. Her hair was almost unchanged, only becoming thicker, but she still had her long, ebony waves. Her skin had also changed, it was now darkened as a result of her new Rhoynish ancestry and the time she spent under the sun.

Many people said that she was more beautiful than her mother had been when she was younger even though she was still a child.

And because of her enhanced intelligence, given that she had the mind of a thirty-three year old in a two year old's body, she had no trouble picking up on adult conversations and understanding what was being said between adults.

Aurelia also took advantage of the fact that she had a lot of time for herself and practiced her magic. Though Apollo had given her the opportunity of keeping her magic, it was very different to have both cores interacting inside her.

Every wizard or witch had a core inside them which worked in tandem with their wand’s core. That was part of the reason wandless magic was so hard to achieve. She was having to teach herself everything again, because working with them both inside her could potentially be disastrous if she didn’t learn how to harness her magic properly.

It was a slow process, because not only was she having to start to learn magic from the beginning, but she was also teaching herself without any sort of instructions. She had to work slowly in order not to overwhelm her body and to ensure she wouldn’t drop from exhaustion or cause her body to externalize it in the shape of an illness (it happened a few times during her childhood and the worry displayed by her parents was enough to ensure she’d be more careful). 

Chapter Text

“Lumos.”

Aurelia smiled as she watched a small light appear in front of her. It was the fastest she’d managed to make a spell work so far.

By sending the core of her original wand into her, Apollo had made it so she had two cores inside of her which made practicing wandless magic easier, but it also meant that she had to practice a lot more and she had been cautious since she realized what the more complicated spells were doing to her body.

With a satisfied smile on her face, Aurelia opened a new book the maester had given her.

One of the books he had told her to read had to do with the history of their House.

House Martell had first settled between the Greenblood and the Broken Arm, not as kings, but as vassals from other kings such as Jordayne and Yronwood. They did not truly rise until Nymeria landed.

Mors Martell saw an opportunity and took her to wife, and with their combined strength, they were able to unite all of Dorne under their rule. Rhoynish customs were then adopted through their land and that was why the firstborn, regardless of gender, inherited.

When the Targaryens decided to invade and conquer, Queen Rhaenys was dispatched by her brother-husband to subjugate Dorne. The aged Princess Meria refused the offer and the queen left, enraged. Four years later, the First Dornish War started, with Rhaenys and her dragon dying.

Then, the Dragon’s Wroth followed, with King Aegon and Queen Visenya burning the dornish castles, but sparing Sunspear in an attempt to turn the donnish lords against the Martells. Two years later, a shaky peace was reached. 

Aurelia gobbled up all of this information voraciously, surprising Maester Foster with how fast she read.

Since an early morning when he caught her in the library reading from the thick books, he had been quietly giving her advanced lessons on healing, numbers, history and politics that pertained to Dorne in general.

He had explained to her parents that Princess Aurelia was a prodigy who had already taught herself to read and write and understand the history books.

Both Ilaria and Adrian were understandably stunned but when Foster asked Aurelia to read a certain passage about the invasion of the Targaryens to them and explained what it meant, her mother looked like she was going to burst into tears and Adrian looked fit to burst with pride.

From then on, they had ensured she had private lessons with Foster who was instructed to nurture her gifts as much as possible.

Ilaria considered her daughter's sharp intelligence as a blessing from the Mother Royne, while Adrian simply thought it good fortune. He was a little upset that Morgan did not have Aurelia's genius as well and wondered if it was a good idea for a woman to have such intelligence as it might be a turn off for a potential husband.

Aurelia had been appalled when she had heard that and was once more furious at the backwards society that she had been sent to.

She was now six years old and had adjusted to this new world as best as she could. She still missed Charlie and her children, the magical world as well, but she had started to let go of them, accepting that she wouldn’t be able to go back.

The ache had dulled some…but it was still there.

She tried to push it back and away from her mind by instead focusing on her family.

Ilaria and Adrian were better parents than Walburga and Orion had been, by far. Perhaps it was not a fair comparison to Orion, since he had been ill since before her birth and it was because of his illness that he could not truly be a father to her. But Walburga had no excuse, she just was emotionally absent and had no business having a child, let alone three. For the first time, Aurelia felt what it meant to have a parents’ love and she never wanted to let go of the feeling. Both of her parents positively adored her and pampered her beyond comprehension. They called her little sun and allowed her to follow them around like a lost puppy would.

Qoren, unfortunately, was still a problem. He had not warmed up to her father over the years and his unexplained resentment was starting to bleed over into her and Morgan. She was starting to feel as though trying to fond a relationship with him would be a lost cause, especially since he barely paid her any attention.

Morgan, on the other hand, she was close to. There wasn’t even a year between them and they were often getting into mischief together and she loved having a brother close in age to her. Sirius and Regulus had been so much older, she had never had a true relationship with Regulus and only formed a shaky one with Sirius when they were well into adulthood. The fact that she now had a brother with whom she could grow up was absolutely invaluable.

A dark part of her wished Qoren would be sent on some mission for their mother, so for a short time, it would just be her, Morgan and their parents… A happy family. 

Perhaps the time for that would come when he would marry. He was twenty already, past the age when most heirs would marry.

As their mother’s heir, he’d probably marry either an Essosi noblewoman to secure a treaty or trade, or the eldest daughter (who wasn’t the heiress) of one of the major houses in Dorne. 

Morgan would likely end up marrying a heiress and dealing with the martial aspect of a household. And, as for Aurelia, she could end up married in Dorne or in the Stormlands, where her father was from. Her father’s house was one of the most powerful bannermen to the Baratheons, who were the overlords of the area and kin to the Targaryens. It wouldn’t be out of the norm for her to marry according to her father’s blood, if a better match could be found there.

But Aurelia truly didn’t want to think about marriage yet. She wanted to be a child and enjoy what was left of her childhood before she had to start thinking of it. She wanted to explore the world she had been born into and take advantage of every opportunity the gods gave her.

And, right now, that meant learning how to fight.

In Dorne, women were allowed to take up arms and she wanted to learn. Perhaps not swords, she was not sure she’d ever have the upper body strength and the right build for them. But she wouldn’t discard other weapons so quickly.

She had started sneaking around so she’d be able to watch as her brother attended his swordplay lessons, while she decided on how to best bring the topic to her parents.

She was sitting against one of the columns on the courtyard, her knees tucked to her chest as she watched her brother spar with the master at arms.

Morgan resembled a burnt marshmallow with the amount of padding their mother insisted he should wear during his lessons, even if he was only using wooden swords at the moment. Aurelia bit back a laugh as he fell and struggled to get back up.

Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would ask her parents and she would join her brother in his lessons.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

A red serpentine body flying through the air, chasing an enormous winged beast. A sword. A man falling. Both dragons falling into a river. Blood. So much blood.

Nightmares made her wake up from her slumber, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

Aurelia expected nightmares to haunt her dreams from the moment she woke up in this second life. It had been the same in her first life, after all. She’d been haunted by visions for her entire life, avoiding sleeping when she could and seeking remedies for a peaceful sleep when she could no longer avoid closing her eyes to rest.

The human body could go a surprisingly large amount of time without sleep and as her body adjusted, it became easier to go on with her day and avoid collapsing. It had been easy in her adult body.

Now, her body was that of a child and it desperately needed the rest that it couldn't get. This meant that Aurelia was quite cranky because she did not want to face the nightmares and visions in her sleep. 

Unfortunately, that lead to her parents ordering the maester to give her a dose of dreamwine with her dinner so she’d have a restful night.

When Aurelia woke in her dream that night, it thankfully wasn’t to a vision of destruction and pain. Rather, she was faced with a dark-haired woman in her thirties with a white, Greek style dress. They stared at one another and recognition dawned on Aurelia as she saw the older woman was standing on a patch of grass with newly bloomed flowers. 

“Lady Demeter,” she gasped with a curtsy, and the goddess smiled.

“Hello, Princess,” she spoke, voice sweet like honey. “The council decided you may need some guidance.”

Aurelia hung her head in shame. She did not quite know why she had been sent here, but the thought that even as a child, she was failing was rather discouraging. Failure had never sat well with her, after all.

“Am I correct in assuming you’re to provide said guidance?”

Demeter nodded, eyeing her. “The seeds for conflict have just been planted.”

“The Great Council,” Aurelia realized. “King Jaehaerys can’t make up his mind and he had the lords do it for him. They chose the successor the king obviously sides with, and once again stripped Princess Rhaenys and her children of their rightful inheritance. Conflict will arise from one of her descendants and one of the new Prince of Dragonstone’s descendants.”

The decision made by the Targaryen king after his eldest son’s death to bypass his granddaughter in favor of his second son had enraged her when she learned of it. Everywhere else in Westeros, a daughter came before an uncle. Why should it not be the same for the throne? And for him to leave the decision making to his lords following Prince Baelon’s death was just a weak move, when he obviously would have favored his grandson over his granddaughter. The events at Harrenhal made her think of the Salic Laws the Capetians had followed and she worried over the future, where daughters could so easily be usurped by their male relations. Surely, that was what Lady Demeter meant. A war would happen because Princess Rhaenys and her children had been slighted and they had dragons — it would be a destructive conflict, one that brought the Targaryen words to life as Velaryons and Targaryens fought for the throne.

“Not quite,” the goddess shook her head. “But there will be a conflict between the dragons, both human and beasts alike. And that’s where you have a role to play. Order must be maintained.”

Ah, so that was why it was Demeter who paid her a visit. Not only was she the goddess of agriculture, but also of Sacred Law. That meant the upcoming war must truly be dire.

Aurelia nodded, glad that she at least had some sort of inkling for the future and what her purpose was. “Am I meant to use my magic?”

Demeter blinked as if she hadn’t expected the question. “Well…if my nephew allowed you to retain it, I don’t see why you should let it wilt away."

“Perfect,” Aurelia grinned. “Is there any way for me to have access to my books?”

“I’m sure it can be arranged,” Demeter nodded.

Aurelia grinned in thanks, but her vision blurred, and the dream around her faded.

Chapter Text

103 AC

After all the guests arrived, the welcoming feast was held, to start the celebrations for Qoren’s upcoming marriage to Valena Blackmont. They dined for hours, and the dining eventually turned into dancing.

Adrian watched his children as they danced. Aurelia was dancing with the youngest son of the late Lord Yronwood, while Morgan was partnered with Liane Dayne, the Lord of Starfall’s daughter and Aurelia’s companion. Qoren was dancing with his future wife and seemed happy enough.

Adrian and Ilaria sat beside one another at the high table, entertaining the lords and ladies who would come pay their respects and inquire about the younger children of the Princess, testing the waters for future betrothals. 

When they were alone, Adrian looked to his wife. She was watching their children intently. “Do you wish to dance, my lady?”

She gave him an easy smile. “No Adrian, do not worry, I am content to sit beside you.”

He slipped a hand in hers and squeezed. “Is all well? I heard that you were with Maester Foster for several hours.”

For a moment, her eyes went bright with unshed tears. She forced a neutral expression. “We shall speak on it in the morning, I promise. Tonight, let us enjoy the feast.”

So they did, though he could not stop his mind from worry. 

When they made love that night, there was a fierceness to her movements to which he was unaccustomed. She had kissed and touched him as though she never would again. When they curled together to sleep, he could feel her shuddering tears.

“Please, Lari,” he whispered, urgent. “What is wrong? I cannot sleep knowing that something is troubling you.”

After long silent moments, she stirred. She turned in his arms and ran her delicate fingers through his beard. “I love you Adrian,” she whispered, trembling, “and I do not want to hurt you.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, tender. “Knowing you are in pain and cannot tell me why hurts. What did Foster tell you?”

"I will tell you after the celebrations have ended," she promised. "I do not wish to mar them."

He sighed. "Is there anything I can do to help? To ease this burden?"

"Just hold me."

 ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ 

She pulled away, sitting up and breathing deeply. He sat beside her, their fingers intertwined. “I’m dying.” Her words were so soft that he could almost believe he hadn't heard them.

“What?”

“A wasting sickness,” she said.

“But you seem well.”

“For now,” she agreed. “However, I have felt unwell for more than a moon turn. I thought it was nothing at first. We had been so busy that I thought my health strange merely due to the stresses of organizing everything, but the other day I felt some pain in my chest and knew I could ignore it no longer.”

“Is there nothing he can do?”

“Lessen the pain as it comes,” she whispered.

 ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ 

104 AC

It was the anniversary of Prince Mors’ and Princess Nymeria’s wedding, a wedding that helped unite Dorne and celebrations were underway in the Great Hall.

The Lady of Yronwood, one of Dorne’s most powerful houses, came alongside her younger sisters and her new husband, flushed with post-marital glow, considering their marriage was only a few moons old. Lord Giani Dayne of Starfall with his Lyseni wife, the Lady Faye, and their children came after them.

The Lord of Blackmont came as well, though he was recently widowed, with his heir and his younger children, no doubt hoping to further the ties between his House and the Martells, despite his elder daughter now being a Princess. And so came the Allyrions and the Manwoodys and the Fowlers, then the Dalts and the Jordaynes and the Wyls. All of the important houses in Dorne were in attendance for the events that followed.

It had been only rumors spoken in dark corners, but now it was clear to see that their ruler, the Princess Ilaria was not long for the world. She was thin and gaunt and Lord Adrian was always at her side, with one arm wrapped around her, as if to help her stay upright. He served her food and brought her goblet of wine closer to her, acting more the manservant than a husband and proving to all of Dorne how dearly he held his wife to his heart. 

The Princess Ilaria was past the prime of her life, at 42, but she was far from an age where one would expect a woman to be so weakened. She had retained her youthful slimness despite her two marriages and three successful pregnancies and her ebony hair was only slightly tainted by grey, mostly retaining its color, but she still had the poise of a woman of a high station. 

Prince Qoren, the Princess’ eldest son and heir, walked behind his mother and stepfather as they left the hall, his wife next to him, her dark chestnut hair let loose for the celebrations of the night. Everyone scrutinized the new Princess, trying to see if there was some curve along her waistline, if there would be a new addition to the Martells in the coming months.

But there were bigger things to worry about in that moment.

Because as the Princess and her lord husband were walking, the nobles opening so they could pass between them, the Princess fell against her husband and only Lord Adrian’s arm around her kept her from falling against the stone floor of the hall. “Ilaria!” Lord Adrian shouted in desperation, seemingly forgetting they were in public.

"Your Highness!” The voices of the lords and ladies were as one, all shocked by what was happening right in their eyes. Members of the Martell guard came forward to assist and Adrian cupped his wife's face, turning it gently to meet her eyes.

“Ilaria,” he whispered. "My love…" her face was pale, her eyes heavy-lidded and she parted her lips to take in a heavy breath, the very action paining her. 

“Adrian…” she mumbled out and Qoren was there, suddenly. Helping his stepfather take her away from the crowded corridor, his hands trembling as the Prince and Princess trailed behind them, clutching each other hand’s for comfort. Though Aurelia said nothing, she knew what was going to happen.

“We should take her to her chambers,” Qoren murmured hastily.

"Very well," Qoren then turned to look behind him, at his wife and the scared children she had clinging to her sides, at the fat tears trailing down Morgan’s cheeks. “Take them to their rooms.”

Valena nodded, but before she could verbalize anything as an answer, Qoren and his stepfather left with his mother.

 ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ 

"You need to be strong," Carolei Yronwood told Morgan and Aurelia. "Your mother won’t want to see you sad as she leaves this world."

"Is it so certain that she will die?" Morgan asked. His eyes were wide, his face pale. 

The woman nodded at the closed doors and simply said. "She wants to see you both."

Aurelia nodded, took her brother’s hand and stepped inside. She held her breath as she saw her mother in the bed, looking frail and thin in between all of the pillows that had been placed there to support her.

"Morgan?" She called out weakly. "Where is Aurelia?"

The girl ran to the bed, clutching her mother’s hand immediately. "I’m here, Amma, I’m here."

"Embrace me, my children," their mother whispered. "I want to go being embraced by those who love me the most."

Aurelia began crying then, big and fat tears streaming down her cheeks as she curled next to her mother on the bed. She felt her mother press a kiss against her hair, murmuring a promise of her everlasting love.

 ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

“Raise your arm a little more,” Aurelia heard her mother’s words even if she knew it was impossible as she nocked an arrow, blinking away a new stream of tears. "The key to archery is in being patient, my little sun, not in being the strongest."

“I wonder if she remembers she has to release the arrow before Mother is out of sight,” she heard Qoren mutter and his wife, Valena, scold him for his words.

As part of the Rhoynish funerary rites, bodies were given to the sea upon their death, to be reunited with Mother Royne. To ease the transition, they were lit up with a flaming arrow shot by one of the deceased’s children. Tradition dictated that the eldest daughter lit the pyre for the mother and the eldest son for the father. Therefore, it fell to her, at twelve years old, to do so.

“Light the arrow, Papa,” Aurelia said softly, not willing to give her brother anything to mock her about. Her muscles were already aching, it was already the fourth time she got into position and her mother’s pyre was further than she would’ve liked. “And give me two more arrows.”

Luckily her father did not argue with her and quickly she was notching the new arrows into the bow and both were being set aflame.

She took a deep breath and imagined the arrow flying through the air and lighting her mother’s pyre. As she exhaled, she let go, holding her breath until she saw one of the arrows land on the edge of the pyre. 

With a sigh of relief, she let herself fall against her father and allowed the tears to fall as she mourned her mother.

Chapter Text

104 AC

“No,” Aurelia says, when Adrian tells her that Qoren has arranged for her to foster with the Queen. “No.”

Adrian sighs, seating himself more comfortably against the cushions in Aurelia’s chambers. Qoren had at least allowed him to be the one to break the news to his daughter and he’d thought it best to do so in private. Aurelia might posses a mind beyond her years, but she remains a child, a child who is being sent away from home not long after the passing of her mother.

As he’d expected, Aurelia’s olive cheeks flush dark crimson, her dark amber eyes flashing like lightning as she bristles and puffs up with righteous fury, so much like her cousin Martyn that a part of Adrian finds it hard to look at her. His nephew passed a few years ago, but still the memories of him are hard to bear. 

“I’m sorry, little sun,” he says, sorrow in his voice. “But your brother has decided.”

“I won’t,” Aurelia vows, full of fire and fury and rage. “I won’t do it, Papa, not so soon after losing Amma! I won’t go!”

“This wasn’t my first choice, either,” Adrian says, trying to reach for his daughter’s hand, only to sigh again when Aurelia rips it away, glaring down at him. “But you know your mother’s death put us on a precarious position, Aura. Your brother is now the head of the family. He is within his rights to arrange this.”

“No,” Aurelia cries, tears welling up in her eyes. Adrian's heart aches; his beautiful daughter, who screamed when they first laid her on Adrian's arms and who has screamed ever since, loud and unbreakable and emotional, always quick to tears and quick to laughter and quick to rage. “This isn’t -” her daughter’s voice breaks. “This is not fair, Papa.”

“Oh, Aurelia,” Adrian murmurs, and this time when he reaches out, his daughter crumbles into his arms, weeping like a babe as she burrows into his chest. “I know it isn’t fair, little sun,” he says softly, brushing his fingers through Aurelia’s thick dark hair. “But I hope that you shall be able to make the best of it.”

Aurelia shakes her head, her face tucked into Adrian's throat. “I will go,” she promises and he has to withhold an exhale of relief. “I will go and I will play my part. But as soon as you and Qoren agree on a marriage for me, call me back.”

Adrian laughs softly. “Do not try to grow up so quickly, darling. Make the best of it. Enjoy your time on the capital. The Princess Rhaenyra is not so much younger than you, perhaps you could be happy being her friend.“

Aurelia’ mouth wobbles dangerously. “I do not want to leave you,” she whispers, and Adrian aches all over again.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aemma Arryn had always wanted more children.

But the Gods saw fit to take and to take and to take, instead of to give. They allowed her womb to swell, allowed her to hope to then take her dreams away. To take her babes away.

Though they still try, Aemma has resigned herself to having only Rhaenyra. She is the only one to have survived both her womb and the cradle. But she is a fierce and independent girl and her own heart aches at not having a daughter who will come to her when she needs comfort.

That is, until Prince Qoren sends a raven and their world is turned upside down. An offer to take his thirteen year old sister as her ward, with the thinly veiled suggestion that they may have a hand in her marriage arrangement when the time comes. Because, despite her status as the late Princess Ilaria’s sole daughter, the girl is as of yet unbetrothed.

Viserys tells her in the privacy of their chambers that the girl, Princess Aurelia, will be sent to the Red Keep soon. “There is some strife between Prince Qoren and the family his mother made with her second husband," he says, voice thoughtful. “He probably wants to separate the girl from her father and older brother."

Aemma’s heart goes to the poor girl. She remembers being thirteen and traveling to the Red Keep to wed Viserys. She’d been scared and nervous, and she’d had her family surrounding her. This girl will have no one. “She’ll be welcomed and loved here then,” she spoke firmly. “We’ll look after her as if she were our own daughter. The girl lost her mother and is now being separated from her father. We won’t make her miserable. We will care for her.”

Viserys had smiled at her fierceness, “You’ll spoil her rotten, I’m sure.”

Aemma simply laughed and pretends to be offended.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

She stood still, staring into the mirror as her goodsister tied up the laces of her gown. With each harsh tug, her body jolted forward, only for her to quickly straighten back up, not wanting to make her new sister angrier than she already was.

Valena Blackmont was normally a gentle and kind woman. She could take any amount of insults thrown her way with grace and she only allowed herself to show her anger in private, never in public. And usually, she never allowed her husband’s young siblings to see it either. But this was too much for her. She didn't want to send Aurelia to King’s Landing, not so soon after the death of Princess Ilaria and definitely not with how tense relations between Dorne and the Iron Throne could be at times. If relations soured between them, Aurelia would be in the middle of it all.  She wouldn't be their ward then. No, she'd be their hostage.

The woman’s frustrations were well-hidden to everyone. But Aurelia, who had once been Cressida, knew how to read people and while Valena had a good poker face, Aurelia had been taught in her first life to see past them. Her goodsister was not happy about this arrangement, but there was nothing she could do about it, sadly.

If she was honest, Aurelia honestly did not wish to leave Dorne. The rest of Westeros was not as egalitarian as her new homeland and she knew that they were outsiders in the continent, the only ones who had not bowed to the dragons. But she swallowed the feeling and turned to her goodsister, the laces of her dress tied.

Valena looked over her.

"Come now Aurelia, everyone will be waiting,” Aurelia took Valena’s hand as they walked down the halls towards the front entrance of Sunspear. 

When Aurelia stepped outside, she swore a weight got lifted off of her shoulders. At least the Targaryens had not sent a brute to accompany her back to King’s Landing. The man who’d been sent, a member of the King’s Small Council, was tall and muscled, but he was not frightening. He had the kind of muscle any man who regularly rode horses and trained built up over a lifetime.

"Here she is, my beautiful sister, Aurelia," Qoren said, turning to look at them as they walked out to the courtyard, where the rest of the party was awaiting them. All strangers, save a few maids. No dornish lord wished to send away their children into a court of dragons and so it meant Aurelia was losing her companions as well.

She took Qoren’s offered hand and stepped forwards, well aware they were putting on a show.

“My Lord,” she said as she lowered herself into a small curtsy, not quite sure who the man was and his status. As a Princess, there were only a few people she had to actually curtsy to, to all others it was merely a courtesy.

The man’s dark brown eyes looked over here, taking everything in, no doubt. Her dark hair, pulled back into a series of braids to withstand the coming days of sailing. The blue riding dress she wore, with few embellishments, her sun-kissed skin, the amber eyes that were looking straight at him.

The man kneeled in front of her, to be eye-level with her. “Their Graces are eager to welcome you into their court, Princess.”

“I am eager to make their acquaintance,” Aurelia bites out.

The man sighs, seemingly aware that’s the best he’ll get out of her and stands again. “Let us go then, the horses are readied.”

As he turned to walk back to his destrier, Aurelia turned to look at her family. 

She’d already said her goodbyes to Morgan in their rooms, so now it was only Valena, Qoren and her father.

Adrian bent down and she went into his arms, telling herself it’d likely not be too long until she was hugging her father again, even if she knew it was a lie she told herself. 

Then she turned to her goodsister, whose eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Valena bent down to kiss the crown of her head, cupping her face in her hands to kiss both her cheeks. “You are a daughter of Dorne, Aurelia. Don’t forget it,” she muttered into Aurelia's ear, making sure her husband didn't hear. And then she quickly stepped back, smoothing out her skirt and quickly wiping her eyes.

Next, Qoren stepped forward, only pressing a quick kiss to the top of Aurelia's head before stepping back.

Aurelia gulped as she walked towards her mare and mounted her, arranging her skirts as she did so, before urging her into a trot with the rest of the party, leaving her childhood behind.

Chapter Text

104 AC

Aurelia was cold. Freezing actually, but she was too afraid to tell anyone. It had rained as they made their way from the harbor to the Red Keep and she was soaked to the bone, it felt like. At least, the castle was near and soon, she’d be in her new chambers and be able to take a bath and wear more comfortable clothes. 

When they finally rode through the gates, Aurelia felt nothing but relief. She straightened herself and gripped the reins of the mare she’d been granted, arranging her expression so only pleasantness remained as she followed Lord Strong in the procession to be welcomed by the royal family. 

And there they are, the Targaryens. 

King Viserys is next to his ever-pregnant wife, Aemma Arryn, herself a daughter of a Targaryen princess. They are followed by a girl who can only be Princess Rhaenyra before two young men appear in the line. One blond, one dark of hair. So, Prince Daemon and Lord Edrick Manderly, Princess Viserra’s son. And the Princess stands next to her son, still able to claim the title as the most beautiful woman alive despite being a widowed mother at thirty-three, with a son nearly grown. Next to the Princess is another Princess of Targaryen blood, the former heir to the throne, Princess Rhaenys, standing next to her children, Laenor and Laena, if she remembers correctly.

She brings her horse to a halt as Lord Lyonel does so, and dismounts before anyone can come to assist her, clasping her hands in front of her body, to present the image of a nervous girl. Aurelia took a deep breath and walked towards the Master of Laws who stood in front of the King and Queen, staring at her. 

"May I introduce the Princess Aurelia of Dorne,” the Lord introduced her to the royal family and she gave a small curtsy, which was reciprocated by the Princess while the Queen dipped her head.

“Princess Aurelia, welcome to our home. Let me introduce you to our family,” the Queen spoke up, before gesturing to her daughter. “This is my daughter, Rhaenyra. Next to her is my goodbrother, Prince Daemon and then my cousin Edrick who will soon return to the Reach, and my aunt, Viserra. And, my cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, with her son, the heir to Driftmark, Laenor and her daughter, Laena.”

Aurelia smiled at each of them, and they all did the same in return. Suddenly a strong gust of wind ran through the courtyard, clawing at Aurelia's exposed neck and lower arms. She shuddered, and this time, she couldn't hide the fact that she was freezing cold. 

“By the Gods, Lyonel, the poor girl is probably freezing to death," Viserra Targaryen turned to the Master of Laws and her family, a disapproving look on her face as she walked towards them. “Come with me, sweet one, let’s get you inside and washed up.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia followed Lady Alicent, through the halls of the Red Keep the day after her arrival. 

The famed Red Keep was the largest place she’d been to in this life, even if it couldn’t compare to Hogwarts in size. Yet, she knew that she would still likely get lost over her first few months here. She’d have to re-learn the point me charm quickly, to avoid wandering around trying to get someplace.

“How have you not gotten lost?” Aurelia asked, to fill in the silence they’d stumbled upon. “You have only been here for about a year or so, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been here for three years already,” Alicent explained. “And, I try to keep to the main hallways the Holdfast mostly, if I'm in the main keep. I mostly spend my time in the gardens or in the Hand’s Tower if I’m not in my lessons with the Princess. And the times when I do get lost, I usually ask for directions from one of the guards. The queen’s sword is quite nice, he got here last year from the Vale.”

“Oh,  he’s not a Kingsguard?” 

“No, he’s the second son of House Belmore. When Queen Aemma first came to court, she was guarded by a Ser Aaron Grafton, but he requested to take his leave to go back home, and so Ser Jamie was sent for,” Alicent explained. “If you ever need anything, feel free to ask him. Or one of the Cargyll brothers, though I wish you luck in telling them apart.”

“The Cargylls,” Aurelia wracks her brain, remembering the members of the Kingsguard. “Those are the twins, right?”

“Yes,” Alicent laughs. “They are identical. Down to the last mole, we’re convinced.”

Both from the Vale, also. Her respect for the Queen was growing. Even if she was used by her husband as a broodmare, she seemed to have established some sort of power base at court.

Alicent spoke again, drawing her from her mind. “Now, there are a few places in the Keep you should not go near, even if someone asks you to.”

“And those are?”

“Do not go near Prince Daemon’s chambers,” Alicent’s voice turned serious. “He’s handsome, but he’s dangerous. Next, the White Sword Tower. There, the Kingsguard have their private rooms and they have enough to worry about other than a girl disrupting what little sleep they have.”

Aurelia nodded. “That all sounds reasonable.”

Alicent took Aurelia’s hands in hers. “Don’t be afraid to ask me anything.”

Aurelia nodded and continued to follow Alicent through the keep, their arms linked together. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

White light blinded her when she opened her eyes, at once knowing it was one of her 'deity dreams' as she’d taken to calling them in her mind. She groaned as the light hit her eyes, it was too bright, and realized the groan was Cressida’s, not Aurelia’s.

"What now? I’m already in the dragon's den, couldn’t you leave me be for a few weeks?"

"As you put it, you’re in the dragon’s den," a young, auburn-haired girl spoke. "So, sadly, this can’t wait."

Aurelia straightened and assessed the girl, trying to determine which goddess had been sent to speak with her this time. Her dress gave her away. She had a white dress with a fur cloak over her shoulders and a bow strapped to it. Only one major goddess fit the description.

"Lady Artemis," she curtsied. "It’s a pleasure. To what do I owe the honor?"

"You’re in the bosom of the Targaryen family and that means you’re finally in prime position to of what my brother intended. It will take a while, years even but the best work is carefully curated over a long time and not rushed."

"And that work is…?"

"Impatient girl," the goddess tsked. "Listen to me. This cannot be rushed. Your true work will start once you’re married — you’ve already met the man and no, I will not tell you his identity. But your work also involves the dragons, that much I can tell you."

"So, I must become close to the Princess," Aurelia surmised. "She’s the only dragon rider generation who resides in the capital. The king lost his mount, Prince Daemon is more often exiled than not, the Queen and Princess Viserra never claimed dragons, nor has Princess Viserra’s son claimed one and the Velaryons are at Driftmark."

"You are correct in that. But to succeed, you will have to submit to this new life and let go of your old one."

"Have I not already done so?" Aurelia spat. "Have I not mourned a second mother, been separated from a brother and a father? How else can I show that I’m devoted to the quest you’ve sent me on?"

"You cling to your memories," in a blink, Lady Artemis no longer held the appearance of a young girl, rather of a grown woman. "You cling to them and they don’t allow you to truly become Aurelia."

"I can’t forget," she murmured. "If I do forget, I won’t be able to access my magic and it’s been hard enough already to retain it. This world isn’t like my first life. Magic is not meant to thrive here and it’s hard to access it. If I allow myself to forget, I fear I shall forget everything and not just select pieces."

"You can make new memories," Artemis shrugged. "I shall convene with Lady Hecate, to see if she has a solution to your concerns."

"Can you tell me anything more?"

"Beware of towers and spikes."

Aurelia committed the words to memory, knowing that they might be cryptic now, but they could be of great importance at one point in the future.

"And…I know this might be too much to ask, but can I see my family? Charlie and my children?"

With a sympathetic look on her face, Artemis nodded and waved a hand, until a cloud appeared and showed her images of her family. They were older, that was the first thing she noticed and it made sense that as time passed by in Westeros, it would do so back in Europe. She watched them, committing their features to memory, knowing very well she may not get this chance again.

She woke up then, her face over a wet pillow, alone, sunrise barely peeking up through the windows, the images of her children and first love in her mind.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

This was what she'd expected, Aurelia thought, as she joined the revels. This was how she'd imagined court to be. She had a new dress of golden satin, a gift from the Queen, and the young men of the court all wanted to dance with her. 

No doubt, they wanted a chance at charming her, at wedding a Princess. Perhaps they thought she’d write to Qoren of how brave and gallant they were, that she would beg to be allowed to marry them. No matter. She’d enjoy the revels, let herself be a young woman once again before she had to crush the hearts of all this foolish young men.

She loved to dance more than anything in the world. There was nothing wrong with it, for all that Ser Otto shot her disapproving glares when she laughed or spun too gaily. The Queen did not have a problem with her behavior, nor did Princess Viserra. Why should a second son from the Reach dictate the behavior of a Martell princess?

Aurelia moved into place for the next dance, and was unable to hide her shock when she found herself partnered with the Queen’s shield. "Ser," she said as a greeting as he twirled her.

"Princess," he greeted as he put her hands on her waist, her hands going to his shoulders for a lift. "Thank you for caring for the Queen."

Aurelia lowered her eyes. "It is no matter," she murmured, not quite comfortable with the turn the conversation was going to take.

"Not all girls torn from their home would care for the women responsible."

"Queen Aemma is a kind woman," she said easily, because it was the truth. "And it is because of my brother, not the Queen, that I am here."

"I should like to be friends, Your Highness," Jamie said then. "We both care for the Queen, after all."

"As you say, Ser," she laughed as he twirled her.

She liked the way he smiled at her and found she was smiling back, cheeks flushed.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aemma Arryn sat in the Red Keep's gardens, shaded from the hot sun by a canopy of vines and blooming flowers. A book lay in her lap, but her attention was on the young girl seated next to her.

She’d taken Aurelia under her wing in the weeks since the girl had first come to court and had decided to continue teaching her High Valyrian after learning she had started learning the language back in Dorne. It would be a way for them to bond and perhaps, for the girl to feel more comfortable in the Red Keep. 

"Kirimvose," Aemma pronounced, her voice resonating with the strength of the dragons. "It means 'thank you' in High Valyrian."

Aurelia looked up, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her face. She hesitated for a moment before giving it a try. "Kirimvose," she repeated, her pronunciation slightly off.

"Very good,"Aemma said, smiling. "Now try these two: Kessa and Daor. They mean yes and no."

The girl repeated the words, her voice growing more confident with each attempt. Aemma nodded in approval, pleased with her progress.

As they continued to practice, Aemma shared stories of her own childhood in the Eyrie and the Targaryen court, tales of dragons and conquests and the intricate politics of Westeros. The girl listened with rapt attention, her eyes wide with wonder at the tales the queen told.

Chapter Text

104 AC

With the upcoming anniversary of the King and Queen, there was an influx of nobles in the capital. More than anything, there was an influx of nobles families with children. The idea had delighted him at first, to have more boys to spar with was always a great idea (or so Daemon said). But then, the castle was suddenly full. And the boys were noisy and most were older than him. The Hand’s son, Gwayne had arrived with the Hightowers and he seemed determined to make his life feel like one of the Seven Hells.

And so, after he was done with his tutors for the day, Edrick found himself taking a book and walking around until he found a suitable hiding place. Today, his hiding place was an alcove that overlooked the garden — it was next to bigger balconies, so no one bothered to use it. He was in an uncomfortable position but also, unwilling to move. He was far too engrossed in his book to be bothered about his back or his crooked legs.

The book he was currently reading was an old book from Old Valyria, detailing the tales of how the shepherds formed a connection with the dragons. Honestly, he wasn’t supposed to take the book out of the private family library, but that place was too dark and he could never read in there. He reasoned that he’d return it without anyone outside of the family knowing.

He was so immersed in it that he didn’t notice someone walking by the corridor in front of him, her light steps clapping against the stone floor. She stopped when she saw him, however, and clasped her hands behind her back, turning to him.

“What are you doing?” Asked a soft voice in front of him. Edrick rose his eyes from his book and saw her. The Princess Aurelia was the first of the new additions to court — a ward for Aunt Aemma, his mother had said.

“I’m reading,” Edrick answered. He was sure his tutor and mother would be upset, saying something about not greeting a lady properly, but he was quite frustrated. Finally, he had a moment of peace and she came and interrupted him.

“Reading what?” She rose on her tiptoes and bent forward, looking at his book.

“A book,” he said, being deliberately vague. “About Valyria”

"And, about what event in Valyria?" Aurelia placed her arms at her waist and for a moment, he was reminded of his Aunt Mara in the North.

"I can’t tell you," he said, rather rudely. "It’s only for family to know."

"I am your Aunt’s ward," the girl said slowly. "Does that not make me family?"

Edrick groaned. "It’s about the first taming of the dragons."

“Really?” She asked, curious. Then, she gathered her skirts and sat next to him. “Can you read it to me?”

“Since you asked so nicely, my lady,” he said and she giggled, her voice taking on a high pitch.

He started to read out loud, but he had not even reached the end of the page before she stamped her hand on his book, blocking the words from his vision.

“No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Not in Valyrian. You have to read it in Common.”

“But the book is in High Valyrian!”

“Can you speak High Valyrian?” 

"Yes!" He was, frankly, insulted by the question. It was his mother-tongue, the language his mother had spoken to him when she’d been carrying him and when he’d been a babe. He’d had a better grasp of Valyrian than Common until he started his lessons and Common became a necessity.

"Well, I’m still learning High Valyrian, so if you insist in reading it as it is, you’ll have to speak slowly."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ 

Aemma Arryn was a remarkable woman, despite how she presented herself. There was a hidden strength to her, a strength Aurelia perhaps could only recognize because she, in a way, had that same strength. A strength that was built because of loss.

It took her no time to respect the Queen and only a few weeks for her to love the Targaryen woman. The Queen welcomed her into court like a daughter, took to instructing her in High Valyrian herself, teaching her words she didn’t know and correcting her pronunciation, not growing frustrated with her fumbles.

She was kind and sharp witted but the quality Aurelia admired most was her piety; it reminded her of Cressida’s piety to the Twelve. Often, the two could be found in the castle’s sept, heads bent down in prayer.

Aurelia knew the Queen’s piety was not contained to the Seven, she also prayed to the Valyrian Pantheon, but she had no ground to judge. When she prayed for guidance, it wasn’t to the Crone, but to Lady Athena, after all.

And, so, they were praying now, the cold of the floor seeping through the thin silk of Aurelia’s dress and chilling her knees, but she paid it no mind.

"I notice you spend a lot of time in here," she looked up as Aemma knelt beside her. 

"Don't we all, Your Grace?” 

"Well, my daughter does not," she returned. "And your devotion to the Gods is clear, child, but when I watch you I also see you speak to another,” turning her gaze to her ward, she smiled. "May I ask who?" 

Aurelia nodded, somehow knowing the Queen wouldn’t judge. “The gods of my parents,” she whispered her reply. “Forgive me if it is blasphemy, but I do not keep to the Seven alone. I pray to the old gods of the Stormlands and to Mother Rhoyne as well. “

The Queen tilted her head, an affectionate smile curling her lips. “Others may see it as blasphemy,” she murmured, taking Aurelia’s hand in her own. “But the Father is merciful and welcomes everyone into his embrace. My family also keeps to our old gods. What do you pray for?”

The girl raised her head. "My father and brother,” she murmured and Aemma hummed approvingly. "For their continued health.” 

She missed them. Gods, she missed them more than she expected to. She missed Morgan and his quick wit, her father and his comfort. 

"I pray for the health of your babe too, and for you to have a safe delivery.”

Aemma nodded, a small and sad smile on her lips.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

“Your Highness,” Ser Harrold called with a small bow of his head as she approached. She pulled up beside him, while the guards waited by the carriage. "Surely the princess hasn't convinced you to come out here on your own."

Aurelia shook her head. “The Queen, actually. Queen Aemma send me to take her back to the Keep. How ago did she take off?”

“It hasn’t been long enough for her to come back yet.”

She sighed and dismounted, holding the reins with one hand as she grasped for her satchel, where she had stored some sugar cubes and fruit to snack on. 

Deliberately, she kept her hands on the horse as she faced the Dragonpit. It had been a few months since she’d first come to King’s Landing and she’d managed to avoid, but she could not refuse a request from the Queen. All she could hope was that she’d be able to avoid an overly emotional response to the dragons and the reminder of Charlie.

Watching the structure, she wondered how many dragons were housed there and how deep underground it went. And, how the Dragonpit affected the dragons. They were creatures of the sky and flight, of freedom and now they were basically imprisoned by those who were supposed to be their other half (if she understood the idea of the bond correctly).

There are few things Aurelia envies the Targaryens for. But at the front of the very small list is the dragons. Her new homeland harbors a hatred for them, but all she can feel is an admiration at the idea of the bond they have with the large reptiles. She remembers her first life, remembers soaring through the skies with Charlie, racing on their brooms and later on, when they’d been particularly brave, mounting one of the dragons in the reserve. Nothing compared.

And, yet, in this life, she’s doomed to keep her feet planted in the ground. She has to watch as others take to the skies, with the knowledge that she’ll never do so.

As she gave a sugar cube to her horse, Aurelia watched two figures emerge, dressed in ashy robes with heads shaved and large spears in their possession.

"Who are they?”

"Dragonkeepers. They care for the dragons when their riders are gone," Ser Harrold explained. “They’re descendants of the servants who fled Old Valyria with the Targaryens and Velaryons or Targaryen bastards. That’s how the dragons are willing to listen to them.”

The two keepers stood aside, and a high-pitched whistle came from inside the cave.

"Seven hells," Ser Harrold whispered, dismounting. "My lady, I'd suggest you get away from your horse.”

"Why?" Aurelia asked, tightening her grip on the reins, sending a wave of calm to the animal. From the periphery, she saw as the knight gripped the reins of his own horse, while the guards and the carriage drivers held their own horses tightly. "What is going on?"

"Most mounts are used to the dragons around here, but they still get anxious around this one."

She was about to ask who he was referring to when the beast emerged from the darkness. It was a red-scaled behemoth, possessing wings on both the front and back legs, with a long body. He had an unusually large neck and wings on his legs as well. Yet, he was beautiful. He had horns of varying size across his face, more prominently on his jaw. His scales were a deep red as well, almost the color of blood and Aurelia understood why he was called the Blood Wyrm.

Caraxes.

A saddle had been fitted upon his back, and atop it at that moment was none other than Daemon Targaryen himself, his silvery hair blowing in the wind and a smug look on his face. But at the moment, Aurelia hardly cared about his presence. Her gaze was fixated on his dragon.

Her horse, however, was spooked at seeing the dragon and she had to turn away from the creature to soothe her horse, murmuring some nonsense words and she stroked the horsehair softly until it calmed a bit. When she turned back, she found Rhaenyra had landed beside her uncle.

“Princess,” she called strongly, stopping Rhaenyra from starting a conversation with her uncle. “Your mother wishes to see you.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The only sound in the Queen’s apartments was the strumming of the harp and for a moment, all was silent as Rhaenyra’s last note hung in the air. Aemma waited until her daughter’s hands left the lute’s chords before she started clapping, the sole observer of the performance.

“Wonderful, my dear. Simply wonderful!”

Rhaenyra flushed, smiling bashfully, and looked away. She set her harp aside and stood up, rubbing her palms against the skirt of her red dress.

Aemma barely had time to prepare before her daughter ran up to her, wrapping her skinny little arms around her neck. She oofed, posing a hand behind her to catch herself on the bed and another to protect the swell of her belly, and laughed. Rhaenyra kissed her face, beaming. “Do you really mean it, muña?” She asked, voice eager. “Do you really think I was wonderful?”

“I don’t think so, darling,” said Aemma. “I know it.”

She stroked Rhaenyra’ cheek and smiled, observing her wide lavender eyes and her full, pink lips. Only ten years old and she was already so beautiful, already called the Realm’s Delight. There were many who admired Rhaenyra, who thought she was beautiful, lovely and intelligent. 

Aemma was, despite everything, a pragmatical person. She knew that if she had a son, that son would be too young for Rhaenyra to marry. And others knew it as well. That meant that others were looking at Rhaenyra as a prospective bride — whether for themselves or for their sons or brothers. As a Princess, there were many prospects for her, but they had to careful when arranging her marriage to avoid slighting anyone.

Her mother married into the Vale and Aunt Viserra into the North, so those regions were out of the running. The family had yet to make a marriage in the Wastelands or the Riverlands, but they would have to see what there was to gain regarding those possible marriages. In their family, cousin Borros was an option, since he was still unmarried, but the option Aemma favored was Edrick. He was only two years Rhaenyra’s elder and was going to settle in the Reach upon his majority, after all. It would help keep her girl close.

But, she knew that in the end, the decision did not rest in her hands. As a Princess, Rhaenyra’s marriage was in the hands of the Small Council and few would have her best interests at heart. She would have to go to Viserys and appeal to him. He loved their daughter, but her husband was easily swayed and she feared if Otto started thinking on the topic and brought it up.

No, she needed to reach her husband before the Hand did. But first, she had to convince him their daughter was too young to marry. She was a child, still and she feared her facing the same fate she’d had to face. She’d been a child when she got married and more than once, she’d wondered if that had not contributed to her difficulties in the childbed. Her daughter would not face the same fate if she could help it.

If Daemon were not married to Rhea, he’d be an option and truly, the option she favored but her husband had already said multiple times that he wouldn’t annul the marriage, so supporting Daemon as a suitor was a dead end. She’d draft arguments for Borros and Edrick and in time, she’d bring her aunt onboard so she could sing her son praises. Her daughter would be happy either as Lady of the Stormlands or of Evergreen Cove. Rhaenyra would not endure the same life other women in their family had been forced to. She’d be happy and free.

Chapter Text

104 AC

"Muña?"

"Yes my darling?" Aemma said smiling down at her daughter, who was looking at her stomach with a mixture of wonderment and anger.

"I don't like the baby."

"Rhaenyra," Aemma scolded gently, she had been expecting this, however she had been expecting her daughter’s jealousy to show itself later on in her pregnancy.

Rhaenyra had the good grace to look somewhat ashamed, but the pout on her plump lips told Aemma that she had a battle on her hands.

"Rhaenyra, I know how you're feeling."

"How?" Rhaenyra scoffed. "You’re the youngest of your siblings."

"There was a large gap between me and my eldest siblings. I got very jealous when Artys’ wife got pregnant. My brother doted on me and I hated the thought of no longer being his favorite. But you know what happened? Jeyne was born and Artys still paid attention to me. He had time for both of us."

"He did?" Rhaenyra repeated, her lavender eyes uncertain.

"He did," Aemma confirmed, taking one of her daughters silver waves into her hand and twirling it around her fingers in what she hoped was a soothing motion. "And so will your father and I. We love you more than anything and nothing is going to change that."

"Not even if the baby's a boy?"

"Not even if the baby is a boy," Aemma confirmed, nodding solemnly. "I would not trade you for a thousand boys, my sweet girl."

"You promise?"

"On my life."

"And Kepa as well?" Rhaenyra added quickly.

"Of course Kepa as well," Aemma replied with a frown, knowing she would need to speak to Viserys. All of his talk about having a son and heir was clearly affecting Rhaenyra. She wished her husband would be happy with the family they had, with their beautiful and brilliant daughter but he wasn’t. Her husband loved her, he loved her daughter and he was proud of her but he was consumed by his dream of a son.

Rhaenyra smiled and curled into her mother's warm embrace, but, as Aemma soon noticed the young girl was still sending furious looks at her stomach. "Oh, Rhaenyra what is it?"

"I still don't like him."

"And why not?"

"Because he hurts you, he kicks you and he makes you sick," Rhaenyra said angrily, crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke.

"Oh my darling," Aemma responded, trying not to laugh at her daughter innocence. "I promise you, he is not hurting me."

"On your heart?"

"On my heart."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"Girl, just go!" Viserra snapped, and Aurelia Martell fled. Damn Aemma for thinking a child belonged in her chambers. Oh, it was fine, usually, but today Aemma started cramping and then, they saw spots of blood in her dress, sending them all into a state of crisis. And Aurelia, for all that she was bright, was still a girl. And she’d frozen the moment she saw the blood. The best thing to do was send her to look for the maester, so she wouldn’t get in the way

Aemma clung to Aleah Hightower’s hands as Viserra took charge of the room, ordering the girls to fetch clean cloths as well as the midwives. She tasked a Beesbury girl to let Viserys know of what was happening, did everything possible to draw her mind away from her niece’s shrieks. She’d told no one (and, if she had her way, no one would ever know), but the herbs had failed and if she did not find a knowledgeable midwife, then soon enough she’d be the one screaming in the bed.  No point in dwelling on it now, though, she decided, turning her focus instead to keeping her niece’s ladies-in-waiting calm, while Elys Grafton organized the maids arriving with fresh water and linens.

And she prayed. Silently, privately. She did not know if Aemma could survive another loss. She put on a brave face, but the loss of her children broke her spirit, little by little. And her health was deteriorating. Viserys didn’t see it, but with each child he planted inside his wife, a little of her life ebbed away.

Two hours later, when the midwife looked at her with her lips pressed into a thin line, she knew what had happened and resolved to console her niece, pushing her own problems aside for the day.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia heart raced as she darted through the halls, her mind filled with fear and anxiety, her feet pounding against the cold stone floors. Princess Viserra had sent her for the maester because of the queen’s bleeding, but she felt lost and alone in the vast, cold halls of the castle.

As she rounded a corner, she saw Lord Edrick standing alone in a shadowed alcove, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Aurelia," he said, as she approached. "What's wrong? You look pale."

She took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. "The queen," she managed to gasp out. "She's bleeding. They need the maester.”

Edrick's eyes widened. "Come with me," he said, and took her hand, leading her down another hallway. "We'll find him together."

When they finally found Mellos, she managed to stutter her message. “The queen. You must come at once."

The maester’s face paled (he knew of the queen’s troubles in the childbed, of all the lost children before) and he followed them at a brisk pace to the queen's chambers. As they entered, Aurelia saw the fear etched on the queen's face as she clutched her swollen belly.

Aurelia stood back, watching as the Maester examined the queen. She felt helpless, useless, and her mind began to spiral. Cleaved in two. Bloody sheets.The images of one of her dreams haunted her. Suddenly, she felt her stomach churn, and she staggered to the side of the room, doubled over and dry heaving. It was too much. It was all too much.

She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. But her mind was in turmoil, and she felt herself spiraling out of control. Memories of her own mother's death flooded her mind, and she felt like she was suffocating, torn between the past, the present and the future. She felt helpless and useless.

It was then that she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Edrick, looking down at her with concern in his eyes.

"Aurelia, are you alright?" he asked, and she shook her head, unable to speak. He took her hand and led her to a nearby chair, sitting down beside her.  "Come away from here. You don't need to see this."

“It’s just,” she managed to say. “It brings back memories.”

Edrick nodded silently. "Take deep breaths," he instructed, and she tried to do as he said, inhaling and exhaling as he guided her. "You're safe now. You're here with me."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia sat, leaning against the oak tree in the godswood, her eyes closed in deep meditation. Seeing Aemma’s struggles in the birthing bed, the weakening of the dragons and remembering the warnings of the gods made her realize she had to strengthen herself. She had to reach into her magic once again so she’d be ready when she needed it. And, apart from Balerion’s skull, the godswood was the only place that called to her magic in the keep. It was not a weirwood, but it was as if the land itself remembered what it was meant for. And, oak was by itself a very powerful wood meant to strengthen and bring wisdom.

She’d been practicing for a few weeks now, hoping that if the old gods truly existed, they would be able to guide her. As she focused on her breathing, Aurelia felt the cool breeze rustling through her hair, the leaves of the trees whispering softly around her. She felt the dirt and the dragon’s breath beneath her fingers and the weight of the tree's presence enveloped her in a sense of peace.

Slowly, Aurelia began to mouth some easy spells, searching inside herself for the cord connecting her consciousness to her magic. She gasped as she felt it and urged her mind to grasp it tightly, knowing she had succeeded when a surge of energy coursed through her body.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The Street of the Sisters was not a place where any well-respected noblewoman would venture at nighttime, but Viserra was no common woman. She was wearing a black cloak over a simple dress, to avoid drawing attention to herself as she wandered through the streets she’d grown up in, heading towards a woodswitch she’d heard young girls at court whispering about.

“Payment first,” the woman rasped, and Viserra silently slid out a small purse and counted out two gold dragons. The woman’s mouth split into a grin, and she led Viserra through to the back of the shop, where she sat down. 

“I need you to answer to a few questions I have, m’lady, and to be as precise as you can. Will you do that?”

Viserra nodded, expecting as much.

The woman’s lips curled in a very faint, tired smile. “Alright then,” she said, pulling a chair for herself just in front of her at the other side of the room. “But first of all, I need to warn you about the risks associated with taking moon tea - because there are sadly some risks, I won’t pretend otherwise. While most often all works fine, some women don’t react well to the tansy it contains. A few become very ill after they have absorbed it and some are never able to bear a healthy child afterwards, even years later. And sometimes a woman can die, though this is rarer of all but I’ve seen it happen on a couple of occasions in my career. I wouldn’t be honest not to tell you. I’m sure this must not be very reassuring to you, still I prefer that you be aware of the potential consequences of taking moon tea before you decide to go through with this.”

"I’ve taken it before," she said coldly. "I don’t make a habit of it, but it gets the work done when the other alternatives fail."

The woman nodded. "When did you last bleed?"

"Two moons ago, but I’ve never been regular, especially after my son was born, so I could be further along."

"May I examine you?" The woman asked as she approached, no doubt she was used to some skittish women or proud young girls.

Viserra had no such restrictions and so she nodded. She hissed as the woman squeezed one of her breasts, which were particularly sensitive.

"You’re definitely with child," the old woman said as she stepped away.

"I could have told you that," Viserra muttered under her breath.

"How long have you been with your lover? Has he ever even attempted to avoid this lot to you at all?”

She stayed quiet.

“He never pulled out, did he?” It was more an affirmation than a question.

"I have some herbs that help prevent unwanted babes," Viserra explained. "They’ve never failed me before."

"Yet, you said you’ve taken moon tea before."

"I was married off as a girl to a man older than my father. I was in no rush to have his children," she shrugged. "I avoided it for a few years until I realized a babe would keep him away for longer. When I came back with my boy, my cousin gave me the herbs so I could find my pleasure without a husband."

"Alright," the woman huffed. "I can give you the herbs in a small sack and you can mix it in with your morning tea tomorrow. But I’d advise you to rest over the next few days. Flushing a babe out is harder on the body than simply preventing one."

Viserra nodded, not quite pleased with what she was doing, but knowing it was her only option. She’d gotten sloppy and Andrey had gotten a babe on her — this was the natural conclusion of it all.

Chapter Text

King’s Landing, January 105 AC

Papa,

First, please convey my condolences to Uncle Gareth over the death of Auntie Elissa. I know they never loved each other as deeply as you and Amma, but I also know how much kindness and mutual respect there was between them. I can only imagine how Uncle Gareth must be dealing with her death and with having to handle running Stonehelm alone and preparing for the Baratheon visit by himself (since I can only guess Uncle Elias will be no help, as usual).

As for me, everything is going well here at court. I’m rising in the favor of the Targaryens, with Queen Aemma treating me as dearly as she does her own daughter — although Princess Viserra has been looking at me recently and I’m not sure what this means. I recently met Syrax, Princess Rhaenyra’s dragon and she is truly a magnificent sight. For a moment, I wished I could claim a dragon myself.

Anyway, time grows short, so I send my blessings, papa, and ask that you fill me in on all the news from Stonehelm just as soon as ever you can. Greet Morgan for me.

May the gods bless you, Papa. 

I remain, as ever,

Your daughter, 

Aurelia

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Starfall, March 105 AC

Aurelia,

The harvest treated us well, thank you for asking. But if you think yourself so clever, let me tell you you aren’t!

Now, what’s this about a handsome knight? I want you to tell me everything in your next letter. I can’t believe you thought he deserved only one line in your message. I need more information to decide if he’s worthy of you!

Where’s he from? What house is he from? What’s his name? How did you meet? I want to know everything!

Oh and, your next letter will have to wait a few moons. We’re leaving Starfall in the hands of our stewards so we can go visit Maman’s family.

All my love to you,

Liane

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

King’s Landing, May 105 AC

Morgan, dear brother,

The Queen and the King have started trying for a child again. I’m praying fervently for this one to stick, and for Queen Aemma to finally birth another healthy child. I’m worried for her and for her health. Though, sometimes I loathe myself for thinking so and the disrespect it brings to Amma’s memory, I have come to see her as a mother and I do not know if I could survive losing her.

The Lady Aleah, the Hand’s wife is also ill. She caught an affliction brought to King’s Landing by one of the merchant ships from Essos and has not managed to return to full health. Please, add her to your prayers. She tempers the worst impulses of the Lord Hand.

I heard of your potential marriage to cousin Johanna. Is the agreement to your liking? You have been to Stonehelm more recently than me, but from what I remember, she was quite witty and had Aunt Marielle’s looks rather than Uncle Elias’. Though I love our family dearly, we have to be truthful to ourselves and accept that the Swanns are not lookers. On that note, we should be thankful we take after Amma rather than Papa. 

Let me know what is happening back home, brother,

I remain,

Aurelia.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Sunspear, July 105 AC

Dearest Aurelia,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been too long since we last saw each other, and I am thrilled to inform you that I am expecting a child. It is a time of great joy and excitement here in Sunspear, and I can think of no one I would rather share it with than you.

I have managed to wear Qoren down and he has agreed to summon you home, so you’ll be with us as we welcome our babe. I know your father and Morgan will be overjoyed to see you again. I also hope that you will take this opportunity to spend some time with me, as I would be grateful for your company during this special time.

Please let me know as soon as Qoren’s missive arrives. I cannot wait to see you again.

With love,

Valena

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Highgarden, August 105 AC

Your Grace,

Firstly, let me extend the deepest condolences from all of us here at Highgarden for the death of your goodsister, the Lady Anya.

I realize that now, with the Lady barely buried and your grief so fresh, it is perhaps not the most fitting time to ask this, but I don't know who else to turn to.

The Tyrells seem to think that a match between me and the eldest daughter, the Lady Desmera, is on the table and I am uncertain as to how I should make it clear it isn’t. As a member of House Targaryen, as a cousin to the King more so, I know my marriage is under the jurisdiction of the Small Council, yet I also know my cousin Desmond will have a say. My mother would not appreciate being bothered by this topic and I, frankly, did not know who else to turn to.

In truth, the Lady Desmera is quite beautiful and charming, but she is not who I would wish to marry. I wish for someone who can be my partner and that is not her. Her mother has raised her to be an obedient wife, but little else. I doubt she would bring anything to a marriage other than her beauty and hefty dowry. I wish for someone who can help me run the Cove, who will not foist our children off to nurses as soon as they’re born. Seeing the Tyrells, I doubt that is her.

Please, Your Grace, I beg of you, if you can, use your influence with Lord Leyton and try to persuade him to stop pursuing this match.

I remain,

Your devoted nephew,

Lord Edrick Daerys, Lord of Evergreen Cove

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

King’s Landing, November 105 AC

Edrick, dear raquiros,

Thank you so very much for my nameday present. It’s quite beautiful, I’ve taken to wearing the bracelet more often than not. I trust you are well and thinking of when you can escape the roses and come back to the capital? Or do you intend to visit White Harbor first?

No matter, I can only guess we’ll be seeing each other soon. It hasn’t been announced yet (so far only members of the family and certain members of your aunt’s household are in the know) but the Queen is pregnant. I know the king will want to celebrate the birth of another child, so you shall have to come back.

And when you’re back, I’ll have the chance to show you how much my Valyrian has progressed – did you notice I called you my raquiros up above? Rhaenyra, your mother and the Queen have been teaching me.

Hopefully, if you do come to court soon, I hope we’ll be able to see each other. By the time this letter reaches you, I should be on a ship back home to Sunspear. Let me know when you receive your own nameday present. I wish to know if you like it.

Until then, I am, as always, your beloved friend,

Aurelia

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Sunspear, November 105AC

Your Grace,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits and that your pregnancy continues progressing well. I wished let you know that I have arrived home safely and to express my gratitude for the time I have spent at court under your tutelage.

I cannot thank you enough for the kindness and generosity you have shown me during my stay at court. Since my return home, I have been reunited with my father and brother, and it fills my heart with joy to be with them again. I have missed them dearly, and I am grateful for this chance to be with them once more. Yet, as much as I am happy to be reunited with my family, I must confess that I already miss the court and its people and I’m waiting for the day I return.

Thank you again for all that you have done for me, Your Grace. Please know that I will always hold you in the highest regard.

With deepest respect and gratitude,

Aurelia

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Sunspear, December 105AC

Rhaenyra,

I hope this letter finds you well. I write to you with a heavy heart, as Valena’s labors took a turn for the worst. They were not progressing and by the time, my nephew was born, he was still.

As you may imagine, this has been devastating to us all. It is a reminder of the fragility of life and the unpredictability of the future. I can barely imagine the pain Valena and Qoren are going through, I know how much they were looking forward to this child, and I cannot imagine the pain they must be feeling right now. My heart aches for them and for the child who will never know the love of its parents.

I am writing to you now as I prepare to return to court, hoping that the change of scenery will do me good. I am looking forward to seeing you once again and for you to tell me all that I missed at court.

I remain,

Aurelia

Chapter Text

February 106 AC

Aurelia's heart sank as she approached the castle gates. The usually bustling entrance was eerily quiet, and as she made her way through the courtyard, she couldn't help but notice the solemn expressions on the faces of the castle staff.

Something was wrong.

She quickened her pace, eager to find out what had happened. As she entered the castle, she was greeted by the sight of Rhaenyra standing in the hallway, her eyes red-rimmed with tears.

"Aurelia," the princess said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so glad you're back. I don't know what to do."

"What's happened?" Aurelia asked, her heart racing.

"It's Alicent," the blonde said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lady Aleah passed away."

Aurelia felt a lump form in her throat. Alicent would be feeling alone, now more than ever. And, though Rhaenyra could have the best of intentions, she would not be able to understand. Aemma was still alive, Rhaenyra still had her mother. 

"I don't know what to say to her," Rhaenyra said, her voice breaking. "I'm not sure how to comfort her."

"Let me handle it," Aurelia said. "I'll go to Alicent and be there for her."

The princess nodded, grateful for the help.

Aurelia made her way to the Tower of the Hand, her mind racing with what she could say to comfort her friend. As she approached the door, she could hear muffled sobs coming from inside.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the room. Alicent was sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands. Aurelia walked over to her and wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm so sorry, Alicent," she said softly. "I know how this feels. I’m here for you."

Alicent looked up, her eyes red and swollen. "Thank you."

Aurelia sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Is there anything I can do?"

Alicent shook her head. "I just can't believe she's gone."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Jamie awoke early that morning. He could hear Erryk snoring on the other side of the room and remembered that the older Valeman had had a late shift the previous night. Carefully, quietly, he pulled on his shirt and headed to the library. Perhaps, he would be able to read a few chapters of the tome on the Winged Knights he’d been making his way through, before he had to go and guard the Queen.

As he entered the library, he stoped in his tracks. The Princess Aurelia was already there, despite the early hour. She was seated in one of the plush chairs, with one leg bent beneath her and the other stretched out in the floor. 

He should have turned around, he knew. Upon seeing her in what was barely more than a nightgown, he should have turned and left her there, but by the time he could will his feet to move, she was raising her gaze to meet his eyes. She seemed more surprised than startled and slowly closed her book and held it to her chest. He sucked in a breath as her movement made her nightgown ride up her legs, resting just above her knee and exposing her legs.

“Good morning, Ser Jamie,” she said with an amused smile. “Were you spying on me?”

“No! I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he stuttered. “I was just...I mean, I did not know you were going to be here.”

“It’s alright,” she answered, unfazed. “I woke up early and decided to come and read instead of trying to fall back asleep.”

“What are you reading?”

He had no idea why he had asked her that. He should have shied away and left her alone, but Jamie found himself walking down the rest of the stairs.

“The Thousand and One Tales,” she replied, handing the volume out to him.

“The what?” He asked, reaching for it. He wondered if she had any idea how thin her nightgown under her robe was. If she did, she certainly did not seem to mind, but he averted his gaze all the same.

“The Thousand and One Tales. It’s a compilation of tales and histories from different parts of Essos.”

“Never heard of it. Did you bring it from Sunspear with you?”

“No,” she laughed. “But it’s one of my favorite books, so I often come and read it when I can’t sleep. I’ve read the stories dozens of times and they never seem to grow old.”

“You enjoy reading?”

“I do. I enjoy all sorts of books. Stories and histories alike. I don’t know where my life will lead me and where my brother will send me, but I feel that I must take advantage of the fact that I have access to all of these books and knowledge. There’s so much to learn still. For example, the Queen has taught me about the Vale, but there’s still a lot I don’t know about the First Men.”

“There’s time still for you to learn. Erryk, Arryk and I would be more than happy to help you,” he said, handing the book back to her. “Your Highness.”

“Aurelia. Those I count as friends call me Aurelia, in private at least.”

“Aurelia,” he repeated, testing the word out on his tongue without her title preceding it. “Is that what we are now? Friends?”

“I’ve been here for two years now, Ser, we’ve dined together, we’ve danced together, we’ve hunted together, shall I go on, Ser?”

“Jamie,” he replied. “If it pleases you.”

“Jamie.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

March 106AC

“My cousin has a daughter,” Aemma looks up from Amanda’s letter to glance across at Viserra. Her aunt raises her head from the shirt she is sewing and raises an eyebrow.

“Healthy?” She asks, a hint of longing on her voice. Perhaps her aunt wishes for more children, but she has turned away all of her suitors since Lord Theomore died.

“As healthy as a horse, Amanda writes,” Aemma confirms. “They’ve named her Alysanne after your mother.”

“I imagine they’re eager for a boy to come soon,” Viserra muses. “Although they’ve lost the window to marry him to your niece.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Arnold to try, even if he’s unmarried still,” Aemma lets out an unladylike scoff. “But yes, hopefully, Yohn’s wife will give him a son in the next few years and secure the succession in the Vale.” 

“While we’re on the subject of children, let me take Aurelia into my household while you’re in confinement, would you?”

“Aurelia?” Aemma echoes, glancing across to where the raven-haired girl sits among her ladies, working on a gown for the upcoming babe. “Why do you want her?”

“Because the only reason she's here is because of her own mother’s death. Two years ago, she lost the two main women in her life. I don’t think it’d do her any good to be in your confinement chambers. Because I remember her reaction when you lost the last pregnancy, Aemma. I know she was still a child back then, but I don’t think it will do her any good to be cooped up in your lying-in chambers with the rest of your ladies. You know how women like to talk of the horrors they’ve seen at other labors.”

“Yes. I’ve never understood why. Are they not afraid of cursing the mother to bear the monster if they scare her too much?”

Aemma raises her eyebrows, but even as she speaks, her mind is whirring. She’d heard of the Princess Ilaria’s slow disease, before she died in front of her three children. And, by Aurelia’s own admission, she was close to her half-brother’s wife, despite his own disinterest in his half-siblings. And, she remembered being told of the girl freezing up when she lost the last babe. However, until Viserra had mentioned it, Aemma hadn’t stopped to consider what effect it all combined could have on Aurelia if she were to stay with her during her confinement.

In truth, it’s hard to imagine anything having much of an effect on the girl. She’s so bright, curious and eager to please.

But Aemma more than anyone knows who treacherous the childbed can be, for both mother and child. And, more often than not, her lying-in chambers are a tense place where the stress is almost tangible. Viserra is right. Her chambers will be no place for Aurelia, no matter how much she might appreciate having the Princess around.

“Aemma? Is everything all right? Should I fetch the midwife?”

Viserra’s soft question breaks into her musing, bringing her back to herself.

Aemma shakes her shoulders slightly and nods to her aunt.

“No need, Viserra. I’m fine. But you’re right. My lying-in chambers will be no place for Aurelia. Take her. Just continue teaching her as you taught me once. And let’s hope my son arrives without too much fuss.”

“Indeed,” Viserra rises and kisses Aemma’s cheek, before signing to her maid to pack away her embroidery hoop and curtsying her farewells. Aemma waves her away and watches as Viserra crosses the room, crouching down in front of Aurelia.

They exchange a few soft words, and then Aurelia looks across to Aemma, a question in her big amber eyes.

Aemma nods encouragingly, and Aurelia doesn’t need telling twice. She jumps up and follows Viserra and her handmaiden out of the room, the gown she’d been working on still in her hands. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

“Are you well?” Alicent asked quietly, once the feast had ended, and the three of them were back in Rhaenyra’s rooms.

Aurelia paused in the middle of removing her earrings, preparing to get in the middle of the two other girls if needed. Rhaenyra liked to say she was a dragon, but in the end, she was still a twelve-year old girl who constantly had to face that she wasn’t enough for her father. Alicent didn’t have to deal with that, having older brothers she’d been a boon to her parents and not a disappointment.

"I hope Mother will birth a son this time," Rhaenyra shrugged. "Perhaps my father will finally be happy."

"And the realm will have an heir," Alicent added.

Rhaenyra looked at her with fire in her eyes. "The realm has an heir," she said bitterly. "My Uncle Daemon is my father’s heir until I have a brother. And, if not, then Laenor and then Edrick."

“Right,” Alicent hummed, slightly taken aback by Rhaenyra’s bitterness. “I am sorry. Are you alright?"

“I am fine, Alicent,” the blonde girl assured her. “Now, could you help me with this? It’s uncomfortable."

“Of course.” 

Aurelia reached forward and began undoing the clasps holding Rhaenyra’s dress, the velvet soft under her fingers as she worked at the straps. Rhaenyra smiled gratefully as she slipped out of the dress, and padded to the bath the servants had prepared while she was away, hissing in pleasure as the scalding water touched her skin. 

“Is it not too hot?” 

“Targaryen’s do not burn,” Rhaenyra replied simply, scrubbing the skin of her arms with the washcloth. “Well, not while we live, anyways.” 

“Are you always this disagreeable, or is it something new?” Alicent asked displeased.  

“Excuse me?” Rhaenyra shot back. 

“You have been very morbid and snappish today, Rhaenyra.” 

“Well, Alicent, my mother is about to enter confinement again and I’m worried for her and the babe. I feel I am allowed a little snappishness.” 

Alicent stared back at Rhaenyra’s defiant face.. 

“Perhaps it is best if I go,” Alicent whispered, her hands twisting uncomfortably, “I shall see you tomorrow.”

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed, wrapping her hands around the edge of the tub. "Perhaps that would be best. Aurelia can stay with me tonight."

Alicent gulped and nodded, leaving the room in a swish of skirts with a regretful look on her face.

"Do you think I was too harsh?" Rhaenyra asked a few minutes later as she wrapped herself in a robe.

"I think Alicent sometimes forgets that you’re not just her friend," Aurelia said carefully. "I understand why, after all you grew up together, but at one point you’ll have to decide how much freedom you allow her."

"What do you mean?"

"She’s your lady-in-waiting, but she’s also the Hand’s daughter," Aurelia explained. "If Alicent remains in your household when you’re older, you’ll have to set some rules. Especially once more ladies start attending to you. She’s our friend, but there’s a difference in rank you two both seem to forget."

Rhaenyra nodded. "And, her comment about my father needing an heir?"

"By normal laws of succession, you’d be the heiress until you have a brother. But Jaehaerys and the Great Council messed things up. Your uncle is your father’s heir, even if he is not the Prince of Dragonstone. But the lords rejected Laenor once already and I don’t know how well Edrick would be accepted."

"So you agree with my father? That my mother needs more children?"

“Your mother is still young, she may just—” 

“I do not wish her to have a child,” Rhaenyra admitted, lifting her eyes from the surface of the water to meet Aurelia’s. “Not anymore.” 

“Rhaenyra...” 

“It will kill her, one day,” the Princess said simply, “I have seen it. How much they care for the babe she is carrying, and how little they care for her,” her voice cracked at the last word. “My father is so desperate for a boy he will kill her for one.” 

"I don’t think so," Aurelia said soothingly, taking Rhaenyra’s hand into her own. "I hope your mother eventually has another child, but I don’t think your father would kill her for a baby. He loves her." 

"But he has a duty to the realm," the Targaryen princess whimpered. "How can he decide which vows to uphold? The vows to be a good king or to be a good husband?"

Chapter Text

April 106 AC

"Were you sad to leave the Queen’s household?” Princess Viserra questioned from beside her.

The Princess was beautiful, in a way that reminded her of the storybooks from her first life. She had the otherworldly beauty of the Valyrians, even when she wore a simple gown for her chambers, without any embellishments for a day at court. With her beautiful golden hair that fell in waves around her face, her shining lilac eyes and golden skin, Aurelia couldn’t imagine why her parents had not married her to one of her brothers in a show of Targaryen Exceptionalism. She could’ve been a prospective queen, but instead she’d been shipped off to the North for years.

Aurelia had been at court for two years already and in that time she could see the differences between the Andal culture and the Rhoynish one. They were much more prudish than in Dorne and the nobles were more pious as well. In the beginning, she’d struggled with the weather, her body had grown in a desert land, with constant sun and now she was in a completely different climate. By now, two years later, she had adapted but she missed home still.

It had only been two weeks since the Queen and the Princess had come to an agreement where she found herself under the tutoring of the Princess (even if she was still a ward of the Queen). During that time, she had had to adapt to the Princess’ household. 

Despite being close kin, the Princess and the Queen ran their households very differently (although, part of her thought it may be due to the Queen’s constant pregnancies). The Queen’s household was significantly subdued in comparison. With Princess Rhaenyra being so young, Princess Viserra often became the lady of the court when the Queen was in confinement and her household reflected that. There was an influx of artists and seamstresses going in and out of her rooms and she often took to the city to see how her late mother’s projects (sponsored between her, Queen Aemma and Princess Rhaenys) were progressing. 

They were two very different women, yet Aurelia knew that taking some inspiration from them both would only serve to help her later in life. 

"Yes, quite,” Aurelia said in answer to the question. “Queen Aemma became a surrogate mother for me, however I still see her even if I do not spend every day with her.”

“Yes, of course. Are you enjoying being in my household?”

“I am,” she lowered her head, focused on her embroidery. “It is so very different from the Queen’s.”

"It will be a sad day for me when you do return to Dorne, Aurelia,” Princess Viserra said then and Aurelia could not help but smile at that.

"Your Highness is too kind,” Aurelia responded simply. “But I fear I will miss you as well. Hopefully, that day is still far off.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The King’s Ballroom was filled with the sounds of music and laughter as couples swirled around the dance floor. Among them were Jamie and Aurelia, two teenagers who moved with a grace and ease that belied their young age.

As the music picked up pace, Jamie led Aurelia into a quickstep, his hand firmly gripping her waist as they moved in perfect harmony. Her heart raced as she gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves.

"You dance beautifully," he said, his voice low and smooth as he twirled her around.

"As do you," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

They moved together with the ease of long-time partners, their steps perfectly synchronized. As the music slowed, Jamie pulled her closer, his hand sliding up her back, sending shivers down her spine.

Jamie leaned in close to Aurelia's ear. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

Aurelia blushed and looked down, her heart racing at the compliment. "Thank you," she replied, a shy smile on her lips.

As the music slowed, Jamie took her hand and led her in a slow, intimate waltz. Their bodies pressed close, and Aurelia could feel the heat emanating from his body. She looked up into his eyes, and for a moment, the world around them faded away.

"Aurelia," Jamie said, breaking the silence. "I've been meaning to tell you how much I enjoy your company. You make everything better."

A smile spread across Aurelia's face, and she leaned in closer to Jamie. "You have a way of making me feel like nothing else matters," she replied.

As they continued to dance, Jamie pulled Aurelia closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling safe and secure in his arms. She could hear the steady beating of his heart, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped.

When the dance came to an end, Jamie gently took Aurelia's hand and kissed it, sending a thrill through her body. "Thank you for the dance," he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

Aurelia blushed and smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her body.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia and Alicent walked with heavy hearts to the sept. The shadows seemed darker, the air more stifling than usual. They entered the chapel, the candles flickering like small, fragile flames in the quiet space.

Aurelia knelt and lit a candle, the flame casting an orange glow across her face. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer for Alicent's mother, the words feeling insufficient to contain the depth of her feelings. She hadn’t interacted much with the Lady Aleah, but she had felt the loss of her mother, she knew that it was a wound which would never heal.

Alicent knelt beside her, tears streaming down her face. Aurelia wrapped an arm around her friend, the weight of her own loss heavy on her heart. She missed her mother's gentle touch and the sound of her voice, her absence a constant ache. Going back to Sunspear had opened the wound again, and so had her leaving Valena and coming back to court to comfort Alicent.

Alicent spoke, her voice fragile. "It feels like she's slipping away from me, like I can't hold onto her memory."

"She'll always be a part of you," Aurelia squeezed her hand. "In your heart, in your memories. She'll never truly leave you."

They sat there in silence for a while longer, lost in their own thoughts, before Aurelia suggested they take a walk. The fresh air of the gardens was a welcome change from the stifling sept. They walked slowly, the sound of leaves rustling beneath their feet a comforting balm.

As they walked, Alicent spoke again. "Do you think there's something after this life? Something more? Do you believe in the Seven Heavens? That we’re welcomed by the Mother’s warm embrace?"

Aurelia pondered the question, the knowledge from her first life warring with what she’d been taught in this life. "I like to think that our souls carry on," she settled on. "In some form, in some way. That the people we love never truly leave us."

Alicent seemed to take comfort in her words. They walked in silence for a while longer before turning back towards the palace.

"Thank you for being here for me, Aurelia," Alicent said, her voice soft.

Aurelia squeezed her hand. "Always," she said. "I'll always be here for you."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The next morning, Aurelia knew she had to speak with Alicent's father. She couldn't understand how he could leave his daughter to face such a tragedy alone. It had been three moons already. She found him in his chambers, poring over scrolls and documents, his face buried in his hands.

"May I speak with you, Ser?" Aurelia asked, her voice steady.

Otto Hightower looked up, surprise written on his face. "Of course," he said, rising to his feet, almost managing to completely hide his annoyance.

Aurelia took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "I wanted to talk to you about Alicent," she said, her voice firm. "She’s been struggling since the Lady Aleah passed away and it’s clear you’re not supporting her as you should."

His expression hardened. "What business is it of yours?"

Aurelia was taken aback by his tone, but she refused to back down. "Alicent just lost her mother," she said, her voice rising. "She needs you now more than ever."

The advisor shook his head, his eyes narrowed. "My daughter is not your concern," he said. "You have no business meddling in my family affairs."

Aurelia felt a surge of anger rising within her. "I may not be a part of your family," she said, her voice shaking. "But Alicent is my friend. I care about her, and I can't stand to see her suffering alone."

"It's not your place to interfere," he said, eyes flashing. "I have work to do, and I can't be distracted by personal matters."

Aurelia took a step closer to him, her eyes blazing. "Your daughter is not just a personal matter," she said. "She's a human being who needs her father right now. She just went through one of the worst things a girl can go through and you’re ignoring her."

"You have no idea what it's like to have the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders," Otto scoffed. "I have a duty to the king and to the people. I can't just drop everything because of a personal tragedy."

Aurelia felt a sense of disappointment wash over her. "Your duty is also to your family," she said. "Your daughter needs you, and she shouldn't have to face this alone."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

May 106 AC

Aemma sat on the birthing stool, her face contorted with effort as she pushed with all her might. Her attendants watched with bated breath, waiting for the moment when the newborn would finally enter the world. Her body remembered what to do, but as always, she’d forgotten the pain that came with childbirth. Her face was slick with sweat, and her breath came in ragged gasps as she continued to push.

"Your Majesty, I fear this is taking longer than it should," the midwife, a common woman named Sari, said, her voice filled with concern.

The Queen's heart sank, knowing that the birth was not progressing as it should. Only Rhaenyra had taken this long and it’d been because she came early. A sense of fear creeped into her, dreading what would happen. "Is something wrong?"

Sari looked up at her, her expression grave. "I'm afraid the child seems to be stuck. We might have to force the babe out."

The attendants exchanged worried glances, and the room fell silent as the midwives worked to deliver the child, massaging her womb as Aemma pushed and pushed, her strength waning with each passing moment, but still the baby remained lodged in her body.

Finally, with a wrenching pain, the child was born, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong. The midwife's face was stricken with sorrow as she held the tiny body in her arms.

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," she said, her voice trembling. "The child did not survive."

Chapter Text

October 107 AC

Aurelia and Jamie were walking on the castle gardens, their hands brushing against each other occasionally. They were both unsure of what to say, but they both knew what they wanted. They’d been friends for years now, and had grown closer after he’d found her in the library that long ago morning. Yet, things had been changing between them over the past few months. They were now on the verge of something more, and neither of them knew how to approach it.

As they walked, the moon shone down on them, casting a romantic glow over everything. Jamie cleared his throat nervously, breaking the silence. "Aurelia, I've been meaning to tell you something," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aurelia looked at him, her heart racing. She knew what was coming. "What is it?"

Jamie took a deep breath and reached out to take her hand. Her heart skipped a beat as he leaned in closer to her.

"I know we're just friends, but I can't help the way I feel about you," he said, his voice full of emotion.

She felt her cheeks flush with warmth. She had been waiting for this moment, but now that it was here, she didn't know what to do.

"I feel the same way," she said, her voice barely audible.

Jamie's eyes widened in surprise, but then a smile broke out across his face. Without another word, he leaned in and kissed her gently.

Aurelia's heart soared as they kissed, and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his warmth against her skin. It was everything she’d hoped for.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

As Aemma watched her daughter twirl around in her new dress, she suddenly felt a strange fluttering sensation in her belly. She paused, trying to focus on the feeling, and realized that it was the quickening of a new life inside her. She gasped softly, feeling a mix of emotions - fear, uncertainty, and a small glimmer of hope. Another babe.

"Mother, what's wrong?" Rhaenyra asked, noticing the sudden change in her mother's demeanor.

Aemma hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should tell her daughter the truth. But she decided against it. She didn't want to worry Rhaenyra with her own problems. Rhaenyra deserved to be a child for a little longer, even if soon she’d be at the age where she would need to wed and have children.

"Nothing, my dear," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm just admiring how beautiful you look in that dress."

Rhaenyra grinned, twirling again. "Do you really think so?"

Aemma nodded. "Absolutely. You're growing up so fast, my love. It feels like just yesterday you were a little girl playing with dolls."

Rhaenyra's smile faded slightly. "Mother, are you worried about something?"

"No, everything is fine," she said with a smile. "I'm just a little tired, that's all. Why don't you go and show your father your new dress? I'm sure he'll be just as impressed as I am."

Rhaenyra nodded, giving her mother a quick hug before running out of the room

As Rhaenyra left the room, Aemma let the smile drop from her lips, glad she didn’t have to pretend anymore. She sank into a nearby chair, placing a hand on her stomach. The fluttering in her belly reminded her of the risk and uncertainty that came with pregnancy. 

She couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. She had suffered through multiple miscarriages and stillbirths, and the thought of going through it again was too much to bear.

But at the same time, she felt a small spark of hope. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this child would survive.

She sat there for a few moments, lost in thought, before standing up and making her way to her private chambers. She needed to be alone, to process what was happening and come up with a plan. She couldn't let her fear and uncertainty consume her. She had to be strong for this child, no matter what the future held.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Viserra was untangling her braids and thinking of her sister’s most recent letters when a knock came through her door. 

"Come in," she called, grabbing a small comb to untangle the knots that always formed at the ends of her hair. As the door opened, she turned to see who it was, almost dropping the comb when she saw Aemma anxiously standing there.

"May I come in?"

Viserra nodded, knowing something must have happened to draw Aemma to her rooms this late. As Aemma walked into the room, Viserra could see the fear in her niece’s expression.

She sighed, guessing she’d have to play the older sister today rather than the aunt. "What is it, little falcon?" The nickname came easily from her lips, the nickname her father had given Aemma by the time she’d been widowed and able to come back to King’s Landing.

"I have news," Aemma said, her voice barely above a whisper as she sat on the divan. "I'm pregnant."

Viserra’s heart dropped at the news, even if she knew she should be overjoyed. A child was a blessing, any child was, truly. But she knew Aemma’s struggles, knew of the pain, anger and tears no one else knew of. A child was a blessing, yes. But could a child still be called a blessing if it could bring forth suffering to its mother?

Viserra herself hadn’t suffered any losses in the birthing bed. Her only pregnancy had resulted in Edrick and old Theomore had barely been able to come to her bed once she’d recovered. She had thanked the gods for it, but a part of her, a dark, resentful piece of her soul wondered why it was that she and her mother were blessed while sweet Aemma was not.

"How far along are you?"

"I do not know," Aemma shook her head, lips pulled into a thin line. "I only just realized when I felt it quicken. I haven’t gone to Mellos."

"Don’t go to him," Viserra wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Call Sari back to the castle, she can examine you and confirm."

"I don’t want it," Aemma admitted. "I don’t want more children. I’m happy with Rhaenyra."

"I thought you wanted more children?"

"I do, I did, I don’t know," Aemma took in a breath. "I just…Viserys wants a son. He wants a son to be his heir, so Daemon is kept away from the throne. I wanted another child to love, but it’s not worth the cost. I’m withering away, I’m not sure it’s worth it."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Rhaenyra stood outside the Dragonpit, holding Aurelia’s hand as they watched Syrax be lead outside into the open air. 

"The dragon keepers told me she’s big enough for two riders now," Rhaenyra said, with pride in her voice. "What do you say, Aurelia? Do you want to be Syrax’s first passenger?"

Hesitantly, Aurelia nodded. "What do I have to do?" 

She asked, switching to Valyrian so the dragonkeepers would be able to instruct her. She’d made an effort to start coming to visit Syrax since her first visit three years ago and after realizing how the Dragonpit affected the dragons, had started using little bits of her magic to strengthen them and to keep them healthy. It was more than likely that without her magic, Syrax’s growth would have been stunted due to being confined underground, but instead she was growing and becoming stronger.

"Just follow my lead," with those words Rhaenyra was tugging her towards the dragon.

The Targaryen princess stroked her dragon’s scales and murmured something to her, before turning to look back at Aurelia. "Come."

Once she was close enough, Rhaenyra took her hand and led it to the dragon’s necks and Aurelia almost hissed at the heat emanating from the scales. Dragons were creatures of fire and they were almost a living furnace. "This is Aurelia," Rhaenyra murmured. "Do you want to help me show her the joy of flying?"

Syrax crooned her agreement. 

"Don't be afraid," Rhaenyra said, with a reassuring smile as the dragon keepers changed the saddle on Syrax’s back. "Syrax is gentle with those she trusts."

Expertly, Rhaenyra climbed on her dragon’s back and fastened her chains before motioning for Aurelia to do the same. Somehow, she managed to make her way to the saddle and stayed still as the dragonkeepers made sure the chains on her legs were secure. She held on tightly as Rhaenyra whispered, "Soves."

Her heart pounded in her chest as Syrax lifted off the ground, the wind rushing past them. Syrax's wings beat powerfully, carrying them higher and higher, until they were soaring over the rooftops of King's Landing. Aurelia’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the city below them. From up here, everything looked so small and insignificant. It was different from flying on the reserve, where the only view was miles and miles of nature.

Rhaenyra guided Syrax through the air with ease, her love and understanding of the dragon evident in every movement. She laughed and shouted with joy as they flew, the wind whipping through her hair as they headed for the Blackwater.

As they flew over the bay, Aurelia saw a school of dolphins leaping and playing in the water below. She pointed them out to Rhaenyra, who guided Syrax into a graceful dive towards the water's surface. They flew alongside the dolphins for a few moments, and Aurelia felt a sense of wonder and awe at the beauty of the world around them.

Finally, it was time to return to the Dragonpit. Aurelia felt a pang of regret as they landed back on the ground, not wanting the experience to end. She dismounted Syrax's back, feeling a little unsteady on her feet after the flight. It had been so similar and so different to flying in her first life.

"Thank you," she said, turning to Rhaenyra with a smile. "That was incredible."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aemma entered Viserys’ bedroom, her expression tense. Viserys sat on the bed, a look of concern on his face as he set aside a Valyrian tome.

"What's wrong?" he asked, rising to his feet.

Aemma took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I'm pregnant again," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Viserys’ face broke into a smile. "That's wonderful news, my love. Another child is a blessing.”

Aemma shook her head, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "No," she said firmly. "This is the last time, Viserys. I cannot go through this again."

Viserys’ smile faltered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I cannot keep sacrificing my body and my health for the sake of the realm,” Aemma said, her voice gaining strength. “I’ve mourned all the children I can. Every pregnancy saps away my strength and my will to live, I can’t keep subjecting myself to this."

With each lifeless body, each unreleased scream and cry, part of her dies. And yet, her husband – her sweet, gentle husband – asks for more because it is what realm needs, it is what Small Council needs, and it is her duty – as a wife, as a queen, as a woman.

Aemma wants, desperately, to scream and cry.

Viserys took a step forward, his expression pained. “Aemma, I understand that it's difficult, but we have a duty to produce an heir."

Is it her duty – to lose part of herself with each dead babe, with each grim look in her husband’s eyes, with each ill-fated pregnancy full of pain and dread?

She loves Viserys. Gods above, she does, and she knows Viserys loves her too, but Jaehaerys showed them that sometimes love is not enough. 

He says I love you and kisses her, he holds her gently and they make love, and she enjoys it, because how can she not when it is Viserys. But with each pregnancy, the warm flame that burns in her heart for her husband fades into cold ashes.

He loves her, and yet he makes her suffer in worst possible way, but she cannot say or do anything, because it is her duty to bear children for her husband, heirs for the realm.

“If this pregnancy is not a son,” she says slowly. “We have a daughter already. Prepare Rhaenyra to rule.”

She already has a child. Let Rhaenyra be enough.

Chapter Text

December 107 AC

Dragons dancing.

Blue against gold. Green against red.

Fire, fire, cities burning.

A stag feasting on a dragon. A dragon mating with a wolf. A viper striking. 

An endless winter.

Aurelia knew not what woke her that night. It was dark and quiet — perfect for sleeping and yet, she woke. 

She blinked bleary eyes and raised herself up on the bed, noticing something in the shadows, movement. Something white and shimmering, no, someone, because the figure had long hair.

“Hello?" She asked groggily, immediately feeling inside her for her magic so she’d be able to defend herself if needed. Her guards were loyal — men chosen by her father for their loyalty House Martell or House Swann, but if someone had managed to enter her chambers in the night, that meant she’d need to rely on herself.

The shape moved closer. Aurelia threw back the sheets and slid to the edge of the bed. “Who is there?"

And then she came forward, and she lost her breath.

She had never seen a woman so beautiful as the one standing before her. She looked like Viserra Targaryen, with long and thick tresses of blonde hair and a shapely, hourglass figure seen through the nearly sheer white dress adorning her body. But a closer inspection, once the awe of her beauty had worn off, revealed her identity. A belt with a narcissus adornment, dangling earrings with pendants of a bee and a necklace with a swan.

There was only one goddess with the three as her symbols.

Aphrodite.

She sucked in a breath. “Why have you come, my lady?"

"To prepare you for the future, of course," the goddess’ voice was cheerful, more akin to a teenaged girl’s than a thousands-years old goddess. "The time for your wedding is fast approaching, after all."

"It is?"

Aphrodite nodded as she took a seat in her bed. "Oh, it’ll be here in the blink of an eye. Around two years from now, if I recall correctly."

"Who will I marry?" She tried again. Perhaps the rules had changed, perhaps now she could know.

"I can’t tell you that," Aphrodite shook her head. "But kudos to you for strengthening your magic."

"I’m on the right path?"

Aphrodite smiled. "Yes, you are. Now, come, take my hand, I wish to show you something."

Hesitantly, Aurelia took the offered hand and followed the goddess. They stepped into her balcony, but were greeted instead with a what Aurelia thought reminded her of a muggle scrapbook (if scrapbooks came to life and had pictures floating around, that is).

"Here," Aphrodite pointed. She turned to look and was faced with herself, maybe four or five years older, presenting a babe to an unknown dragon, without an ounce of fear in her face.

"And, this one." 

She turned again and saw herself, this time older by at least ten years, possibly fifteen. Her older self was dressed in black with accents of gold, holding a young babe in her arms, with a child clutching her skirts as she looked at a council of men gathered before her.

"Is this my future?"

"It can be," Aphrodite answered cryptically. "It all depends on your decisions."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

She sees Prince Daemon again for the first time in three years by accident. Aurelia had been hurrying through the halls, to meet with Rhaenyra and Alicent in the godswood, but she’d been late and distracted. A letter had arrived from her father and she’d spent time reading and rereading it, tracing her fingers over his script. And then, she’d penned a response and went to the rookery to send it herself. So, naturally, she was late.

She’d been halfway to the godswood when she rounded a corner and nearly ran head-long into him.

The first and last time she’d seen Prince Daemon Targaryen it’d been when she’d still been relatively new to the city and Queen Aemma had sent her to fetch the Princess from the dragon pit. And, in that moment, she’d been more fascinated with his dragon than with the man himself.

Now, she’s older and more acquainted with dragons and she finds herself seeing him again.

On instinct and training, her body lowers itself into a small curtsey before she even really registers it. “Prince Daemon.”

Daemon’s head tilts just a little as he takes her in. “You’re a Martell, aren’t you? The one who was sent to be Aemma’s ward” 

Aurelia isn’t at all sure it’s a good thing when the likes of Daemon Targaryen know who you are. She’s heard plenty of stories about him— none of which are particularly pretty. “Yes, Your Highness.”

When in the Gods’ name had he even returned to the Red Keep? Everything she knew about the man formed the picture of a man stuck with Peter Pan syndrome, refusing to grow up and accept responsibility. He loved to spend his time gallivanting across Westeros and Essos, only coming back to the Keep if he was summoned.

“What’s your name?”

"Aurelia."

Daemon smiles at her and she thinks it’s him trying to be charming, maybe, but all she can think of is how many false, lying smiles she’s seen throughout both lives. He is handsome, she’ll grant him that. But this is a man who knows he’s handsome and who knows the power he wields. She won’t be a fool and believe his smiles mean something.

“When did you return, Your Highness?”

“Just now,” he grins at her. “My brother requested my presence in the Small Council.”

"Oh," she gives him a smile, as false as the one he gave her. "Well, perhaps the King missed you."

Daemon snorts. "I’ve heard some courtiers whispering in my hours back. You spend a great deal of time with my aunt and good sister, don’t you?"

Aurelia nods, uncomfortable with where the conversation is going.

"Then, perhaps you might tell me if some rumors I’ve heard are true," the Prince steps closer to her and she sucks in a breath.

"What rumors might that be?"

Two can play this game, after all.

"Is my dear good-sister with child, again?"

“You know I could not possible tell you."

Her cheeks felt as though they were burning. She wondered if it would be noticeable. She wondered if Prince Daemon noticed.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to pester my brother to answer my questions then."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

It was midnight when Aurelia snuck into Jamie’s chambers, her feet lightly hitting the wooden floor. She needed to see him.

Tiptoeing, Aurelia entered the his bedchamber and made her way over to where Jamie was sleeping. He looked so peaceful in that moment. One arm was draped across his stomach while the other laid over his eyes. He looked peaceful.

Careful not to wake him just yet, she crawled up the length of the bed and over Jamie’s body until she was straddling him. She placed her hands on his chest, running her fingers over the smooth skin. As she did so, Jamie snapped his eyes open and rolled her onto her back with him above her. Her wrists were gripped in his hands as he held them above her head and down onto the mattress. As a warrior, he was always on alert. His eyes widened when he realized it was Aurelia and he softened his grip.

“Aurelia, what in the seven hells are you doing here?” His eyes darted to the door, as though he feared in a moment one of her guards would barge in to reprimand them and to drag Aurelia to the Queen or the Princess Viserra and face the consequences of her wantonness.

What had brought her there? She supposed a mixture of things. The confines of her station, the yearning for more. The knowledge that soon she’d have to marry, that their relationship could not go any further, despite how much she wished it so. She’d been reminded by Lady Aphrodite’s visit that their days were numbered and she wished to enjoy them all.

“I’m so tired,” Aurelia’s voice broke over the words, tears threatening to blur her vision and serving only to mortify her at her vulnerability. “I am exhausted, Jamie. I am everything other people want me to be. A future wife, a ward of the Queen, a protegee of the Princess Viserra, a confidante to the Princess Rhaenyra…the list goes on. There are so many expectations and I fear I will crumble under them all.”

Aurelia wanted to choose her own future. In Dorne, perhaps she would have had the chance, but in King’s Landing there was no chance of it. She should be enjoying her last years of freedom before she was confined to a marriage and the birthing bed, but instead she was balancing on the tightrope of what was appropriate.

Jamie nodded slowly, assessing her with compassion in his eyes. “What do you want then, Aurelia?”

Freedom. The sort of freedom she’d had when she’d been Cressida. The freedom to love who she wished, how she wished, to seize her future for herself, instead of submitting to the expectations and wishes of others. That was what she wished. 

Instead of confessing such a thing, she planted her hands on his bare chest. “Maybe I want you.”

Jamie caught her face in his hands and kissed her, with far more passion and confidence than he had before. His fingers tangled in her black hair, and Aurelia wondered if he could taste the wine on her lips. In response, she caught him by the shoulders and pressed against him, the soft curves of her body against the hard planes of his chest.

His fingers threaded more deeply in her hair, tugging her head back so that his lips trailed down her neck. Aurelia gasped at the sensation, craning her neck to lock her eyes on the ceiling as that familiar heat began to build within her. She knew precisely what she wanted, and she was absolutely sure that it was something Jamie wanted too. 

In the public eye, they may feign propriety, but in private, they could love as they wished. She could not give him her maidenhead, but there were other ways to find pleasure, other ways to express their love.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Queen Aemma lay in her bed, her hand pressed tightly against her stomach, trying to soothe the pain that rippled through her. She was nearly six months pregnant, and the contractions had come on suddenly and with great intensity.

"Fetch Mellos!” She called out weakly to her ladies-in-waiting, as she felt another sharp wave of pain.

Grand Maester Mellos arrived quickly and began examining the queen, his face furrowed in concern. "Your Grace," he said gravely, "you are experiencing preterm labor. We must act quickly to stop the contractions and give you and your child the best chance of survival."

Aemma nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t bear to lose another child, not after the losses she’d already suffered. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.

"Your Grace," Mellos said as he handed her a small vial. “This tincture should slow the contractions and give your child more time to grow.”

Aemma nodded, her eyes filled with relief. "Thank you, Maester. I will take anything that will help my child."

Mellos watched as she drank it, checking her pulse and her breathing until it was back to normal.  "You must remain on bedrest for the remainder of your pregnancy," he warned. "Any exertion could trigger more contractions and put your child in danger."

As the maester left, Aemma turned to her ladies-in-waiting. "Please, send for my husband," she said weakly. 

The ladies nodded and left the room to fetch the king. Aemma lay back on her pillows, her hand still resting on her stomach, and let out a deep sigh. She couldn't bear the thought of losing another child. She couldn’t keep going through these pregnancies, not with how they weakened her and with the result so often being a dead babe. She couldn’t keep losing her children.

Aemma’s mind raced with thoughts of all the things that could go wrong. She was scared and anxious, but she had to remain strong. For Rhaenyra.

"Please fetch the Princess Aurelia for me," she called out to one of her ladies-in-waiting. "I need to speak with her urgently."

The lady nodded and quickly left the room to fetch Aurelia, who over the years had become a friend to Aemma, instead of simply a surrogate daughter.

A few moments later, Aurelia entered the room, her face filled with concern.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?" she asked.

Aemma took a deep breath and looked at the young girl with a solemn expression. "I fear that something might happen to me during childbirth," she said softly. "I need you to promise me something."

Aurelia’s eyes widened in surprise. "Of course, Your Grace. What is it?"

"If anything happens to me, I need you to look after my children," Aemma said, her voice shaking slightly. "Promise me that you will keep them safe and protected, no matter what. Promise me that you will help Rhaenyra through her grief and as she becomes a woman and that you will help raise my child if the babe survives. Be a sister to Rhaenyra and a mother to this babe.”

Aurelia nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I promise, Your Grace," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I will do everything in my power to ensure that your children are safe and loved."

Aemma smiled weakly, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She knew that Aurelia was someone she could trust with her life and the lives of her children.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes closing as exhaustion overtook her.

Chapter Text

March 108 AC

“Do you know when your family is arriving?” Alicent asked, as they sat in the carriage in front of the Dragonpit, waiting for Rhaenyra.

Aurelia looked at the auburn-haired girl and shrugged. “They should be arriving any day now. But I can’t know for sure until I know how much time my father and Morgan spent in Stonehelm before setting off again, with Papa’s family."

It’s been more than two years already since she last saw her family and that is without mentioning all of her Swann relatives, who she hasn’t seen since before her mother’s death. She is more than eager to be reunited with them, even if it means she will be one of only two girls since apparently the Swanns could only have sons, with her and Johanna being an anomaly. 

Alicent smiled at her. “You must be really excited.”

“I am. I can’t wait to finally see them again. It’s been so long,” Aurelia grinned and saw as a dragonkeeper gestured for her to follow him. "Aevon is making signs for me to follow him. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?"

Alicent let out an unladylike snort. "I don’t understand your fascination with the dragons."

"They’re only hatchlings," Aurelia attempted to coerce her as she left the carriage. "They can barely spit fire, it’s not dangerous. That’s the only reason I’ve even been allowed to help the Keepers with them when Rhaenyra flies."

"You go," Alicent insists. "I’ll stay here and read."

Aurelia followed Aevon as he led her deeper into the Dragonpit. The torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls, but Aurelia could feel her heart beating faster with every step, as it always did when she was so close to the dragons.

It had taken a long time for Rhaenyra to be able convince her parents that she could be trusted with the dragons, but it had been their routine for a while now that when Rhaenyra flew, she would go and spend time with the hatchlings, helping the Dragonkeepers as they needed.

Finally, they arrived at the chamber where the hatchlings were kept. The dragonkeeper opened the door, and Aurelia could see the hatchlings once again, roughhousing inside a secure pen. There were five of them, with the largest of them being the size of a small dog.

Making sure not to make any sudden movements so they wouldn’t be startled, Aurelia walked closer and held out a hand, smiling as one of them nuzzled against her palm. But soon after, a powerful roar shook the Dragonpit and perhaps the entirety of King's Landing too. 

Aurelia didn’t recognize the roar, but that only meant it wasn’t Syrax, Caraxes or Dreamfyre. Likely Meleys or Vhagar, then. 

"We should go, my lady," Aevon suggested. "You can’t be with the hatchlings without supervision and Vhagar needs all hands on deck."

"Of course," she nodded and followed Aevon back to the landing yard.

"Princess Aurelia," she heard a voice call out to her as she walked towards the carriage and Aurelia realized it was Laena Velaryon, from a rope as she removed herself from Vhagar.

"Lady Laena," she greeted back, stepping more into the view. "You had a good journey, I hope?"

Laena climbed off the last few steps of the ladder and jumped to the floor. "What better journey than the one on the back of my beautiful dragon?"

"Your father would say the sea is far better," Aurelia snorted, remembering everything she’d heard of Corlys Velaryon and the brief interactions she’d had with the man.

Laena laughed, petting Vhagar. "He really would."

Aurelia slowly stepped closer, heart beating with uncertainty. It was one thing to be near the hatchlings or Syrax — she was a young dragon, having hatched in Rhaenyra’s cradle. But Vhagar was over a century old, having hatched before the Conquest. She was a behemoth in comparison to Syrax, who was the only grown dragon she’d been close to.

"She is stunning," she complimented, stopping once she was a few paces away from Laena so the old dragon would not think her a threat. "How was it — claiming the largest and oldest dragon alive?"

"It felt like finally finding a missing piece of myself," Laena confessed. "Ever since I started learning of dragons, I wanted my own. My egg didn’t hatch, you see. But none of the dragons called to me, not until I was close to Vhagar." Her amethyst eyes looked saddened. "All our lives we are thought to command our dragons — we are thought they need to obey, but I cannot help but feel as if that is not the truth," she sighed. "I do not know how to explain what I feel."

Aurelia hummed in thought, thinking of what she’d learned of dragons. "It sounds similar to something your cousin has said. Your dragon is the other half of you, you feel what the other feels, you know each others’ thoughts."

"Exactly," Laena sighed.

"Is Princess Rhaenys landing soon?" Aurelia asked, noticing that Rhaenyra was passing over the Dragonpit again. One more lap at most and she’d be landing.

"She’ll come tomorrow. There were some matters at Driftmark that she had to deal with," Laena explained. "My brother will fly in later today."

"Then, let me offer you a ride with us," Aurelia gestured towards the carriage where Alicent was waiting. "As soon as Princess Rhaenyra lands we’ll be on our way to the Keep."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"Good morrow, Your Grace," Aurelia was greeted by the tired smile of Queen Aemma. It was clear to everyone that the queen was tired, every pregnancy seemed to take a toll on her, it was a miracle that she managed to carry this one full term after all her previous losses on the birthing bed. But the King wanted a son and the queen had a duty to fulfill.

Aurelia found the idea misogynistic and barbaric, quite frankly. She remembered her previous life, there had been many pureblood families that were matriarchal and other families were quite content with having a daughter as heir if no son was born. Her cousins had grown up knowing one of them would take up the mantle of being the Head of their branch of the House and Cressida had been reared to be Lady Black, considering that one of her brothers was imprisoned and the other was dead. And even in Westeros, Dorne proved itself more progressive. In Dorne, the eldest child — no matter the gender — was the heir.

Having a cock was no accomplishment in itself. She was sure that Princess Rhaenys would have made a better sovereign than Viserys and yet it was Viserys who succeeded their grandfather, despite being a son of the second son. And, Viserys already had a grown and capable daughter. She didn’t understand the need to risk his wife’s life for the possibility of a son. Aemma grew weaker and weaker with each pregnancy and Viserys either didn’t realize or he was pretending he was blind to it so he could still hold out hope for a son.

"Did you sleep?" Asked Rhaenyra worriedly.

The queen huffed. "I slept."

"How long?" Insisted the princess.

"I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra," Aemma argued with her daughter, her purple eyes daring her daughter to contradict her. She truly is a beautiful woman, Aurelia thinks, would be even more beautiful if she did not waste away in the childbed. With silver hair and violet eyes, she looks the part of a descendant of Old Valyria, of a granddaughter of the Wise King and the Good Queen.

"Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants all focused on the babe," Aurelia pointed out. "Someone has to attend you. We’re simply worried about you."

Aemma nudged Rhaenyra's leg with her own, fanning herself. "You two will lie in this bed soon enough, this discomfort is how we serve the realm."

"I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory." Rhaenyra said confidently.

"We have royal wombs, the three of us," the queen pointed out the truth. "The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip."

Aurelia tensed. "My mother said the same thing to me once," she murmured, aware of how the room quieted at her words. She rarely mentioned the late Princess Ilaria, the wound of her death fresh, even four years afterwards."My father won’t marry me off if I don’t wish for it. No matter how much my brother may want to do so."

"And you’re lucky for that," Aemma agreed. "But at some point, you will find yourself bearing children for your husband."

"And, hopefully that will not be for quite some time," Aurelia answered and in some way, she was ashamed to find that she truly meant her words. She had no issue with children and she did want them, honestly. But the idea of marriage did not thrill her. With marriage came children and she was concerned that she would compare Charlie to the man she was tied to, that she would look for Bianca, Isaac and Caelum in any children she had. She worried that she would not be able to truly love her new children, that they would always have the shadow of their lost half-siblings hanging over them.

"Rhaenyra," Aemma addressed her daughter. "Could you go wash away the stink of dragon?"

Rhaenyra grimaced at being sent away, but conceded, pressing a kiss to her mother’s forehead before taking her leave.

"You look —" Aurelia trailed off now that Rhaenyra had left, but was interrupted by the queen. "Worse than ever."

"I was going to say lovely, but awful." pointed out Aurelia. The queen stroked her belly. 

"I wish I could say I feel better than I look," Aemma said softly. "Could you make me some of that tea you’ve ben bringing me? I always feel better after drinking it."

Aurelia smiled as she stood and started preparing it, cursing dragon’s breath before pouring the powder into an empty cup. She then made sure no one was looking at her before she took a small pouch from a hidden pocket and scooped a little of the powder out, powder that came from the crushed scales the hatchlings shed as they grew. She then poured hot water over the combination, watching as it dissolved it all and added a piece of oak bark to it before sweetening it with some sugar and a dash of sugar.

She couldn’t find the correct ingredients for potions, but she’d made do. Seeing as Aemma weakened, seeing as King Viserys wished for more children, she knew she had to do something and so she’d started experimenting before finding a recipe that helped.

"You’re getting worse, Aemma," she muttered angrily, handing the cup of tea to the queen. "You have to tell the king this will be your last. These pregnancies are killing you."

"I know," the queen nodded. "I feel like I've failed my duty, Viserys needs a son to be his heir and since Rhaenyra, I've lost all of them. I failed as a wife and a queen."

"Oh quit this nonsense, not all royal wombs must bring males to this world, what matters is that you stay alive. Rhaenyra can still be Viserys' heir and if she has a son, he would succeed his grandfather and he still has a male heir. Rhaenyra needs you more than the Six Kingdoms need a male heir."

Aemma sighed and leaned back against the pillows, her hand still resting upon her belly. "I know, Aurelia. But it is not just about duty. I want to give Viserys a son. I want to see him hold our child, to watch him grow and become a great king."

Aurelia's expression softened. "I understand, my queen. But your health is more important than anything else. You must think of your children, of Rhaenyra and the child you carry now. They need you."

The queen nodded, her eyes closing briefly.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

“Father,” she said as she ate supper with her father and Morgan. It was an intimate dinner between the three of them, with their Swann relatives dining in another part of the accommodations that had been granted to them.

“Yes?"

"Have you and Qoren given any thoughts to our futures?" She gestured between her and Morgan. "I know Amma’s will stated you had to come to an agreement, but we’re of age now, surely you must have discussed it."

 Her father sighed. "There have been some prospects," he admitted. "Morgan was almost betrothed to your cousin, as you know."

"Yes, yes," Morgan nodded, frustration laced in his tone. "Let’s hear again about how Uncle Gareth said I wasn’t good enough."

"He doesn’t know what he’s missing," she reached out to grab her brother’s hand. "Johanna will now end up married to a stranger, when she could have been happy with you in Dorne."

"Qoren wishes to build a fleet," her father said, interrupting the moment between siblings. "He wishes to ally with one of the naval powers in the realm. So, given that the Redwynes, the Lannisters and the Velaryons will be present for the tourney, let me know if you form an attachment to any member of the families."

"Laenor Velaryon is a dragon rider," Morgan said thoughtfully. "You like the beasts, don’t you?"

"I’ve barely spoken two words to the boy. Do you know anything of his character?"

Morgan shrugged. "I don't know. But he's a lord's son, and that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Their father shot Morgan a stern look. "That is not all that matters, my boy," he said. "But he is right in that we must consider practical matters. We cannot afford to let sentiment get in the way of a good match."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Methynketh truly
Bounden am I
And that gretly
To be content,
Sayng playnly,
Fortune doth wry
All contrary
For myn entent.

My lyff was lent
To an entent;
It is ny spent;
Wellcum, Fortune.
Yet I ne went
Thus to be shent;
But she it ment,
Such is her wone.

Jamie finished the poetry with arched eyebrows, Aurelia's hand tickling his neck as she played with his blonde hair. He placed the book on the blanket beneath them, mulling the words over on his head.

"What do you think?" She asked with an excited voice. "Did you like it?"

Jamie nodded. The poem made him think. It tugged at him, made him think of the future. Of a future that was wholly uncertain.

He smiled and pulled Aurelia into him, letting out a fake groan as she fell on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, a giggle erupting from her lips when she pressed a kiss to her chin. "Let us stop talking about poetry."

"Yes," Aurelia said, "Let's." 

She kissed him then, her hands touching his scruff and neck. Jamie let his own hands wander down the expanse of her body, feeling her form underneath the layers of her skirt.

He leaned back, watching as she sought out his mouth with her pursed lips and closed eyes. "I have something to tell you."

Aurelia smiled, opening her eyes. "What is it?"

Jamie frowned. "I do not know if I should tell you."

"You should!" She insisted, pressing her lips to his in a series of quick flurrying kisses. "Tell me."

He chuckled. "Fine, fine, I shall tell you." He grasped her chin, making her look deep into his eyes. "I was granted leave by the Queen to participate in the tourney."

"Truly?" Aurelia asked with wide eyes. "That’s amazing, Jamie. I know how much you wanted it."

He accepted her kiss then, his scruff tickling her soft cheek. "And if I win, I shall crown you as my Queen of Love and Beauty."

Aurelia sighed then, not the reaction he was expecting. "You can’t."

"Why?"

"People will talk," she sighed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "My father is here and he’s started talking of matches. I can’t afford gossip. My family can’t afford gossip."

"All the people would see is the queen’s knight rewarding her ward, a girl she sees as another daughter," he argued, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"Let me think on it," she bit her lip nervously. "Please, just let me think on it before the tourney."

He nodded and pulled her closer to him, all thoughts leaving his mind as she kissed him, her hands tugging at his hair.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The queen was taking a bath when the doors opened. There was only one person in the whole Seven Kingdoms that could burst into her chambers like this, unannounced and unwelcomed. Aemma closed her eyes, trying to breathe.

“My love!” she heard Viserys exclaim. “You spend more time in the bath than I do on the throne these days."

Aemma smiled weakly. "It’s one of the only places where I can find comfort these days. The water calms the babe," she sighed.

"You didn’t receive me for breaking our fast," Viserys frowned. "Nor did you come into my rooms for dinner. Have you been avoiding me the whole day?”

Aemma was very tempted to scream. Yes, she had been avoiding him. And would be happy to continue ignoring him for as long as it was possible. It was his fault she’d been forced into so many pregnancies, it was because of him that she was so uncomfortable at the moment. It was because of him that she feared for her life as the birth loomed closer.

“I wouldn’t avoid my dear husband. Just not feeling well. The babe is draining me,” Aemma answered carefully, with her eyes still closed. It was easier to tolerate Viserys’ presence this way.

“I am sure this is a good sign,” Viserys answered, and this time, his voice was closer. Perhaps, he took a seat next to her. “The boy will be a fighter, fierce and strong — like a true king.”

Aemma couldn’t handle it anymore. She opened her eyes, slightly rising from the water. There would never be a good time to bring up the topic, but she had to. If not for herself, then for her daughter.

“Rhaenyra is your first-born child, Viserys. Regardless of this pregnancy, she must be the Queen after you. It’s only right,” she said firmly, staring at him.

Viserys was seemingly taken aback by her words. Aemma was sure no one had mentioned Rhaenyra as his possible heir; not yet. But someone had to do it.

“She is a girl,” Viserys answered, almost laughing. Aemma could swear the only thing that held her husband from bursting into laughter was his respect for her condition.

“Rhaenyra is stronger than anyone in this family,” Aemma said slowly.

It was true. Her daughter had a hidden strength to her, a strength many would fail to see because she armored herself in silks instead of steel. Rhaenyra had grown up at court, observing the manipulations that went on from an early age. While Viserys was occupied with ruling and Aemma was trying to bring her pregnancies to term, Rhaenyra had been raising herself, something she deeply regretted. But that had made her stronger.

“You will deliver a healthy son, Aemma. I know it. I had a Dragon Dream - I saw a boy with our features wearing the crown, sitting on the Iron Throne,” her husband announced proudly. 

Aemma snorted. He had a Dragon Dream? Sure. He’d been preaching about his so-called dragon dreams for years and none of them had come true. She knew the signs of Dreams, had seen them in Alysanne’s glazed eyes in the last years of her life, saw them as Aurelia appeared in her rooms with a haunted look on her face. No, Viserys was not a dreamer, much as he liked to fool himself.

But Viserys looked hurt by her reaction, so Aemma had to mitigate the situation.

“Viserys, the babe may not survive. Many haven’t."

“This one will,” Viserys said firmly. “We will do everything to have our son live, Aemma.”

She could see it now. His determination to have a male heir, it was sickening and frightening. Right in front of her, there wasn’t the man she married. He was an altered man, bending under the pressure of more cunning and clever men, vipers he had nurtured himself, who he had allowed to grow ever bolder under his nose.

Aemma wanted to slap him so badly, to shake this obsession out of his mind. But she knew that Viserys was still king, and she would have to use softer force to make him see the truth. At least for now. And, despite all the visions, she still loved him - her Viserys, not the king, just Viserys.

"This is the last time," she said softly, urging him to think on her earlier words. "I've lost one babe in the cradle, had three stillbirths, and two pregnancies ended well before their term. I know it is my duty to provide you an heir, and I'm sorry if I have failed you in that. I am. But I've mourned all the dead children I can. That’s why Nyra must be heir after you. I won’t bring forth more children only to watch them die."

"She’s a fourteen year old girl," Viserys argued.

"And the supposed son is yet unborn," Aemma shot back. "Think on what you have, Viserys. We have a beautiful, strong daughter. The youngest dragon rider in history. She is meant to be more than just a Princess or a Lady in some far off keep. She is meant for greatness."

"A girl has never sat on the Iron Throne."

"Because our grandfather usurped his niece’s place," she answered, expecting his words. "Princess Aerea should’ve been the one to rule after Maegor, she was the eldest child of the Conqueror’s two eldest grandchildren — she had the strongest claim. And if not her, then it should’ve been our grandmother as Maegor’s only child. But our grandfather rose to the throne instead, disregarding their claims even if he married Alysanne to consolidate their claims. We can right his wrongs. The Good Queen always wished for Rhaenys to become Queen and she should’ve become first in line after Uncle Aemon passed. We have an opportunity to fix the past, to right the wrongs of our family. Start by making Rhaenyra your heiress."

Chapter Text

Morgan practically races to their apartments in the Red Keep after training with Laenor Velaryon and Harwin Strong, his muscles protesting against the movement.

He does not expect to see his entire family in their apartments when he arrives, but he also does not expect to see only his sister.

His sister, who has an arm full of dresses and was on her way out.

“You’re really leaving?” Morgan complains from the doorway. Aurelia does not look impressed. How cruel. “I only just arrived.”

“I have to go back to Rhaenyra’s apartments,” Aurelia glares at him. “Do you have a complaint, brother?”

“I have barely seen you since Father and I arrived,” he argues. “You’re always running off and we’ve barely seen each other for the past four years.”

“I have duties, Morgan,” his sister enunciates carefully, as if he were a simpleton. “I have to attend to the Queen and the Princesses.”

Morgan gestures to Aurelia’s busy arms. “And exactly how are you serving them? By allowing them to steal your dresses?”

“Lady Laena wants to see if some of my dresses fit her, so she can borrow one for the tourney,” she looked at him, calculatingly. “Did you clean yourself after training?”

“Excuse me?” He’s offended. “I’d be a poor excuse for a lord if I didn’t.”

“Excellent, open your arms.”

Morgan is a dutiful older brother, so he does as his sister orders and then finds himself with his arm filled with dresses.

“Aurelia? What am I supposed to do now?”

“Carry them for me,” Aurelia ushers him out the doors. “Come along, now.”

“Where are we going?” Morgan complains as they walk through some hallways he doesn’t recognize (not that it is out of the usual, he’s only been in King’s Landing a week and his sister has lived here for years).

“The Velaryon apartments,” Aurelia replies easily as they turn a corner.

He does his best to hide behind the dresses as they approach a door with a guard outside. He’s heard stories about the Sea Snake and he has no wish to end up drowned because he was in his maiden daughter’s rooms.

“Princess Aurelia,” the knight guarding the door greets. “And… a pile of walking dresses?”

Aurelia giggles in the way she does to get what she wants. It used to always work when they were children, that giggle and her batting her eyelashes always ended in her getting her way. But that was then, when she was a child. He doubts it will work now.

“The dresses were too heavy for me to carry by myself, Ser Aron,” she sighs and Morgan would bet she is blinking innocently up at him. “My brother graciously offered to assist me. Have you been introduced?”

“We have not,” Ser Aron says, and he sounds amused. Surely that is a good sign?

“Ah! Well, this is my older brother, Morgan Martell. He is squiring for our Uncle Gareth in Stonehelm.”

“Ser Aron,” Morgan says, behind a face full of fabric. He tries to bow. 

“A good lad to help your sister,” Ser Aron says. “Shall I get the door for you?”

Morgan cannot believe a guard employed by the Velaryons would allow a boy — a man, in truth, for Morgan is now seven and ten — into their maiden daughter’s rooms.

“Princess Aurelia and her brother, Prince Morgan Martell, Princess,” Ser Aron announces.

“Thank you, Ser,” a light voice rings out, and the door is closed behind them. “Is your brother actually a wardrobe, Aurelia?”

“My brother offered to help!” Aurelia explains, glee in her voice and pulls the dresses free from his arms — and Morgan is graced with his first view of the princess and her cousin.

“It is an honor, Your Highness,” he bows low and receives a nod from the Princess.

“A brother who wishes to help,” the princess observes, an impish smile on her pretty face. “How novel, isn’t it Laena?”

“Truly,” the princess’ cousin drawls and turns around from the mirror and his breath stops. “Laenor would never.”

She is tall and lithe, with chestnut skin and tight, silver curls cascading down her back. She is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“It is an honor to meet you, my lady,” Morgan says when he returns to his senses, and bows low.

“The honour is all mine,” Lady Laena returns. “Now, if you’ll excuse us? We are to try on all your sister’s beautiful dresses and I don’t believe we need an audience, Prince Morgan!”

“Of course, my lady,” he says, stumbling over his words and feet as he exits the room to their growing laughter.

The door closes behind him, and Morgan can breathe again.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ 

"Commander on the floor!" Randall Beret barked, his voice booming through the room.

The Watch immediately fell to their knees, heads bowed in respect towards their Targaryen Prince and Commander.

"When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels... starving and undisciplined," Daemon spoke, pacing back and forth in front of his men. "Now... you're a pack of hounds. You're sated and honed for the hunt."

The Watch howled in response, their loyalty to their commander clear.

"My brother's city has fallen into squalor," Daemon said, his eyes blazing with determination. "Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive. No longer. Beginning tonight, King's Landing will learn to fear the color gold."

The Watch roared in approval, their swords ringing out as they held them high.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ 

Aurelia woke late, Queen Aemma and Princess Aurelia both having granted her leave of her duties for the morning so she could spent it with her family. When she makes her way into their rooms, she finds her father and cousins breaking their fast.

Aurelia smiles at father as she takes a set next to him. "Good day."

She's barely more than a few bites into her meal when she catches the silence, like a heavy weight between them. Her father's stiff shoulders, Uncle Gareth’s furrowed brows, the dark look in Uncle Elias' eyes.

It’s easy to see they’re angry. But she doesn’t understand why. They’ve barely been here for two days. What could have happened to strike this reaction? 

"What happened?" Aurelia asks, lowering her hands.

There's a beat of silence before her father turns to her with a frown Aurelia knows is pretense. "I'm not sure what you mean, my sun."

Aurelia keeps her face smooth. "I know you well enough, Papa," she points out. "Something happened and it's upsetting the three of you."

Her father smiles at her. It's a placating sort of smile and it's one Aurelia has hated for as long as she can look back. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with, Aura."

Hidden under the table, Aurelia's hands curl into fists as she looks to her uncles, thinking which would be easiest to cajole into giving her answers. She sees as Elias looks at her with a quirked brow, as Gareth looks elsewhere and decides on her target.

"Uncle," Aurelia says softly, batting her eyelashes as she looks at Gareth. Princess Viserra taught her well. Elias is the more disinterested of them, but he is more determined and more loyal as well. Gareth is easier to manipulate. "Please."

Gareth looks at her upon hearing her voice. "Prince Daemon took to the city with the City Watch last night," he sighs, breaking at the sight of false tears welling in her eyes. "They rounded up all sorts of criminals. They pulled people out of their beds even. And then they punished them for the crimes they supposedly committed."

She doesn’t understand. "And, how is this a bad thing? That’s the reason for the City Watch’s existence. They’re supposed to keep the city safe."

"Aurelia," Elias speaks for the first time since she entered the room. "They needed wagons for all of the bodies and body parts."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

“I’m overjoyed to announce that Queen Aemma has started her labors.”

Aurelia’s nerves flare up. Aemma would call for her before it truly started progressing, she knew. But that did not make her care or worry any less. The Queen had not been lucky in the childbed, with Rhaenyra being the only one of the children to survive past their infancy.

The tourney began then, and Aurelia clapped politely despite not being the biggest fan of tourneys; they were a waste of time and coin, men beating each other bloody or killing one another for fun.

"They're fools, the whole lot of them," she hears Rhaenyra say quietly to Alicent as her eyes turn back to two second sons of stormlords taking their first pass.

"Impetuous, most definitely, but not fools. Just men trying to rise in station and earn a few gold coins while they're at it."

Aurelia rolls her eyes at the redhead’s response. "Many of them are sons of high lords, Alicent. They have no need for extra coin. And there other ways to release energy without the risk for injury or maiming."

Alicent glares at her, scandalized, and she meets her gaze with a pleasant smile.

"The Princess Aurelia is right," Viserra Targaryen spoke. "The last war was the Fourth Dornish War and considering it only lasted one day and it was fought by my brothers and father and their dragons alone, the men of the realm could not gain glory in it. It is not surprising that the youth have no idea what the true experience of it is like. They romanticize the fighting for they have yet to see a man die before their eyes."

“Nor have they have they done the deed themselves,” Aurelia added softly. “Some are as green as grass.” She watched the grounds intently, impatiently waiting for the jousters to make their appearance. 

Aurelia did perk up when her father trotted out on a pure white destrier, wearing the traditional black armor of House Swann, which contrasted greatly with the pale color of his ride and the golden cloak he wore. The colors of their house brought to life. 

She applauded loudly, beaming, and stifled a snort when he chose to ride against Alan Beesbury, the Master of Coin’s grandson. Poor old Beesbury muttered a "Dear me". 

"Princess!" 

She turned back to face the tourney ground, almost in sync with Rhaenyra, standing when her father approached the royal box. “Father?” She queried, smiling.

"Might I have the favor of the sun of Dorne?”

Aurelia beamed and went to the pedestal holding the favors of the women in the royal box. Made of daisies and lilies, her wreath was a mix of pink and white, symbolizing both purity and innocence — fitting for the role she had to play at court. She went to the railing and threw it over his lance. “Good luck, Papa.”

“How could I not have it, with your favor?"

"A mystery knight?" Rhaenyra asked as a knight with an unknown sigil bowed in front of them.

"No, a Cole, of the Stormlands," Princess Viserra informed her niece in a calm tone. 

"Never heard of a House Cole," Rhaenyra murmured.

“No one has,” Aurelia interjected. “They’re barely gentry and only rose to actually become a House in the past few years.”

As they watched Ser Criston Cole win yet another match, Rhaenyra's curiosity grew and she called Ser Harold over. "What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?"

"I'm told Ser Criston is common born, son of Lord Dondarrion's steward," Ser Harold answered calmly, "But other than that, and the fact he's just unhorsed both of the Baratheon lads, I really couldn't say."

Aurelia looked around the royal box and noticed that Viserys was absent, so were Otto and some other members of the small council.

As she watched Prince Daemon mount his horse, Aurelia started making her excuses, knowing she needed to go and be with Aemma — no matter that she hasn’t been called for.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia runs past members of the Kingsguard, past the Grand Maester, past Viserys, and past the midwives, before kneeling down at her friend’s side.

Aemma’s face is contorted in pain and she’s soaked in sweat. This was wrong, something is wrong, it’s not been three hours since the labor was announced, this kind of pain takes double to build, if not more. She’s been with Aemma as she lost the last two of her children and with Valena as both her pregnancies were brought to term — the only times she’d been back to Dorne since her mother’s death. Her own labors with her children in her previous life were not like this. Something’s wrong.

“What’s happened? What have they told you?”

“Little,” she murmurs, clearly on milk of the poppy. “The babe is breech, that’s all they’ve said so far.”

Aurelia nods, smoothing her hair back and giving her a small smile. After a moment a hand is on her shoulder. “Princess, I must speak with my wife for a moment.”

She nods, pushing herself off her knees and retreating to an armchair a little ways away.

The couple speak in whispers for a moment, then she can hear him say, “I love you,”

"They’re going to get the babe out now."

Aurelia’s stomach drops, knowing what is about to happen, and she bolts to her feet as Aemma is dragged halfway down the bed.

"You can’t let them do this," she says, uncaring of the fact that she’s in the Red Keep, in Targaryen territory and speaking to the King of the rest of the kingdoms. "She’s your wife. You can’t let them kill her for a child."

"It’s the only way," Viserys’s voice cracks at the end.

“You can’t…” one of the guards grabs her before she can make it more than a few steps. "Please!" She yells, fighting against the guard. "I’ve attended births! I learned things from the midwives my good-sister employed!"

Viserys doesn’t answer, but she isn’t deterred. "Please, Your Grace! Do you want your wife to live or for her to be butchered?"

“Live! Of course, live!” Viserys manages to stammer out, which causes the guard to release her and she moves quickly, spurring the maids that were aiding the maester into action.

"Are any of you a midwife?" She asks as she helps Aemma sit up and lean against the pillows, murmuring for her to rest. A woman steps forward. "Perfect. You’ll lead us in helping the Queen then. How much experience do you have?"

"I’ve attended many births," the woman says. "Me mam was a midwife and so was hers. It’s the family trade."

Aurelia smiles. "Check how opened up she is. Might be that the Queen’s been pushing with no way for the babe to come out. The rest of you girls start gathering clean towels and boiling some water."

"She’s eight knots already," the midwife, Narei, says. "I think the babe will be born soon, at this rate. But we have to get her up. There’s no way the babe will come with her like that on the bed."

"There’s no way she can get up, just look at her," one of the maids protests.

"We have to wake her up. Your Grace," she nods at Viserys and passes him a small vial. "Go to your wife and pass this under her nose. The scent is so foul it should wake her right up, I’d guess."

Viserys bites his tongue, but obeys nonetheless and Aemma wakes with a gasp, coughing. 

"Aemma," Aurelia says softly as she approaches the woman from her spot by the window. "We need you to get up so the babe can come more easily. Do you think you can stand on your own? Or do you need your husband to help you?"

"I can stand on my own," Aemma rasps and starts moving towards the edge of the bed, with Aurelia staying close by in case she needs assistance. "What do I do now?"

"Whatever your body tells you to, Your Grace," the midwife answers.

Aemma thinks for a moment. "I think I should kneel," she speaks. "Help me, Aurelia, please."

"Bring her by the fire," the midwife instructs, before turning her attention to some of the maids. "You girls, bring some sheets and pillows for Her Grace."

Once an area of the floor near the fire has been covered with sheets and softened with the pillows, Aurelia helps Aemma down to the floor where she kneels and the midwife takes her position by her knees.

"I can see the head," Narei announces. "Two more pushes and the babe will be with us."

It is less than five minutes afterwards that a baby’s cries fill the room, but they can’t celebrate just yet. "Your Grace," she titters. "I need you to stop pushing, even if your body will tell you to. There’s another babe. This one has an arm holding on to her ankle."

"A girl," Aemma laughs. "Seems like Nyra got her Visenya."

The midwife doesn’t pay attention to the queen’s words, carefully prying the little fingers away from the princess’s ankle and passing the babe off to one of the maids.

"Now, Your Grace, I need for you to give me light pushes until both arms are out," the midwife instructs.

"I’ll let you know once we have both arms," Aurelia says.

"No!" Aemma protests. "I want for you to keep an eye on the babe."

"Of course," she agrees, knowing that the birthing chamber is the worst place to argue with a mother and a Targaryen woman at that. She then walks over to the maid holding the babe and takes her into her arms, hearing the instructions from the midwife, but not paying attention to them, instead taking in the babe. She has enough experience with babies that she doesn’t need to be instructed with how to hold one, or in how to care for one. She takes the little girl in her arms and starts humming a melody as she looks down at the babe.

Little Visenya has the classical Targaryen looks, with a fuzz of pale hair on her head and violet eyes. She could not be called a calm babe, fussing and moving around on her arms as if she wished to run away. This was a child that would give the nursemaids a run for their money, much like Bianca had been a test for her and Charlie’s patience, she mused. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

They let Viserys in again after the twins were handed off to their wet nurses to be fed. The room reeked of blood and death and he absently noted that the windows were open, perhaps in an attempt for him not to realize Aemma was dying.

“Leave us,” he told the maids. When they were gone, Viserys sat by the bed and took Aemma’s cold and limp hand, sighing with unshed tears. There was little to no strength in her hand anymore, but Viserys still clutched it. “Oh, my love.”

She opened her eyes and smiled as she saw him. “How are they? Our babes.”

“They are well,” he said. It was a lie. While the girl was healthy and he’d been told she had a strong suckle and a fierce personality already, the boy was not. He was much smaller than his twin and had barely cried when he saw someone new, as if the act involved too much energy.

But Aemma didn’t need to know that. Not in her final moments.

“That’s good,” she whispered, “I… I knew I could do it. I knew I could give you a son.”

Viserys leaned forward and pressed her hand to his cheek, kissing her palm. “You have already given me more than I could hope for.”

They had been together for most of their lives, marrying when they were still children.

Eight children, they had before this, though only Nyra lived long enough to be with them. Their beautiful and fearless girl, who idolized Queen Visenya and would have likely tried to tame Vhagar had Syrax not bonded with her in the cradle. Their dearest daughter, who had been the light in the darkness each time they lost a child. This would devastate her. 

There was no way she would be unscathed by it. The loss of Alyssa Targaryen was still an ache he felt keenly nearly thirty years later and he’d been a child. He had vague memories of his mother, but Rhaenyra would be absolutely destroyed by this.

Viserys couldn’t help but note the irony of it all. For all the attempts at having a son, he still had Aemma to ease the sorrow of each loss. But now he had his son and heir, and he was losing the wife he should be sharing this joy with.

“You must…” she coughed. “You must remarry. I only ask that she loves our children as we do.”

“No! I will not remarry,” he cried. “No one could ever replace you.”

Aemma smiled weakly. "The twins will need a mother," she murmured. "And Rhaenyra will need the guidance of a woman when it comes time for her to marry. Remarry. The realm needs a Queen. You have my blessing to do so."

"No one could ever replace you," he argued, repeating his words. 

"Do it, Viserys," she pleaded. "Name the girl after Daemon. As an olive branch. You can’t keep on fighting and slighting him"

"He lives to cause problems for me."

"Name Nyra your heiress," she murmurs, ignoring him. "Our girl is destined for greatness, Vis. Name her as your heiress to right the wrongs of the Council. And let’s hope our daughter’s name helps quell Daemon’s temper."

"I’ll do it," he promised, feeling sticky tears trailing down his face.

“Hold me," she asked. "I want my last memory to be of your warm embrace.”

He obeyed quickly, faithfully. Viserys embraced her, laying his head against his chest as he heard her heart thumping against his cheek. She felt warm still, her burning skin covered in sweat that did little to reassure him. He held her as tightly as he could, his heart racing. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

Her breaths were ragged, heavy, and it was clear that she had to put a lot of effort into each intake of air. He focused his mind on her heartbeat and her breaths, trying to find some reassurance in the fact that they kept coming, even if they were slowing down, even if they became weaker and weaker with each new one.

And then, there was nothing. An empty silence, echoing against him. He could no longer feel the rise and fall of her chest or the thump of her heart against his face.

His heart raced in his chest and he looked up, desperate to see that he was mistaken. That she was still blinking and living and breathing. A knot grew in his throat and he looked at her, at her face and her far-off gaze staring into the open windows. The glaze of death had already taken her eyes.

Chapter Text

When he walks into the nursery, he finds Aurelia Martell there. She’s standing by the window, one of the babes in her arms. She holds herself tensely, and though she turns at Viserys’s footstep, she doesn’t seem to see him, not even as he takes his new child from her arms and hands the child to the wet nurse, kissing the tiny forehead absently as he does so.

“They look like the Queen. The girl, she has her eyes.”

The words are broken, tremulous, and Viserys doesn’t try to respond, only nods. He knows she doesn’t really expect an answer. He places his hands on the girl’s upper arms, anchoring her in place as he whispers the expected, dreaded words.

“She’s gone. I’m really sorry, but she’s gone.”

A sharp intake of breath is the only response he gets. He is about to repeat himself, fearing the Princess hasn’t heard him properly, when she looks up at him, wild-eyed.

“Tell me you were with your wife, Your Grace. Please tell me you were with her!”

“I was with her,” he confirms gently, as he lets go of her arms. “I was with her. She died in my arms. She wasn’t on her own, I promise.”

“That’s good,” she breathes and some tension leaves her. “Did she name the children? She mentioned Visenya during the birth, but…”

The words hang between them, the knowledge that Aemma had said so, thinking of Rhaenyra’s wish for a sister named after the warrior-queen and not because he or Aemma wished to name their daughter after the elder of the Conquerors.

“Our son is named Baelon,” he whispers. “She wished for me to name our daughter after my brother. I think I shall name her Daenaera or Daena, perhaps. Which one would you prefer?”

It is unconventional, the fact that he is requesting the opinion of a foreign Princess, but he knows how deeply Aemma cared for her and perhaps this might help her deal with her grief.  

 “Growing up, I heard a story of a princess. Her father was frustrated because he only had one daughter. He went to a trio of sisters who could see the future and asked if he’d have a son. They told him no. He wouldn’t have a son. But he would have a grandson and that grandson would grow up to kill him. Paranoid, he locked up his daughter in the tallest of his castle’s towers, so she’d never have a son. But a god had set his sights on her and a few months later, she gave birth to a boy. Her father cast them out, locked them in a chest and threw them to the sea, so the boy would never grow up to kill him. The god who fathered her son saved them. They went on to found Valyria, depending on the account of the story. I admire that princess. She survived despite everything being stacked against her.”

“What was her name?”

“Danae.”

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"Your Highness,” Jamie bowed after he had been admitted into her chambers. “The Queen… Queen Aemma did not survive the night. She has been taken to the Sept, so the Silent Sisters may prepare her for her lying-in.”

Rhaenyra’s knees buckled and she fell backwards into the settee. Her mother was dead. Gone. Forever. There was no denying it, not with Jamie being the one to tell her. For the past years, he’d been stalwartly at her mother’s side. For him to tell her this…it could only mean her father was lost in grief, that it had fallen upon him to be the one to relay the news.

“What of the baby?” She asks, managing to speak through the lump building in her throat. “What of my brother or sister?”

"The queen birthed two children. One of each. They’re in the nursery right now, being attended upon by an army of nurses, no doubt.”

One of each. She had a sister and her father finally had his precious son. The son her mother had died bringing into the world. 

“Let’s go then,” she mutters as she shakily stands up, brushing away Jamie’s hand when he goes to help her. She can’t be coddled. Not anymore. Her mother is dead. Her father likely is mad with grief. She has two younger siblings with no parents to care for them. 

The door to the room was unguarded, making her frown. Why hadn't her father assigned her siblings a guard? She glanced at her mother’s former guard, who had silently followed her.

"Would you guard the door, Jamie?”

The knight nodded silently, blue eyes sorrowful. 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath and opened the door. Inside the nursery were Aunt Viserra and Aurelia, both of them with a babe cradled close to their upper body, speaking in hushed tones. A maid was folding some clothes and fussing over the single crib in the room.

“Rhaenyra,” Aunt Vis is the first one to notice her and smiles sadly at her.

“How long have you been here?” She asks, focusing on her aunt and friend, proud that she kept her voice steady.

“Since I broke my fast,” Aurelia answers. “Princess Viserra was already here.” 

“I’ve been here since the early morning hours,” Viserra answered, her voice gentle. “A maid told me about your mother’s passing, having heard it from the maester and I came here straight away. I have been here since.”

Rhaenyra nodded slowly, her thoughts racing. Despite what the nobles thought of her and her aunt’s youthful rebellions and misadventures, Viserra had always been a calming presence for her, and she was grateful for her aunt’s presence.

“And the babies?” Rhaenyra asked, gesturing towards the two infants in her aunt’s and Aurelia’s arms.

“Your sister is healthier than your brother, but Maester Mellos and the midwives believe that if he makes it past his first year, he should be able to thrive just like my sister did,” Aunt Viserra said softly, referencing her only younger sister, Gael.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath and approached her aunt and friend. She peered down at the two sleeping babes in their arms, a pang of jealousy shooting through her. These were her siblings, and yet they were strangers to her.

"What are their names?" She asked, trying to steady her voice.

Aurelia looked up at her, a small smile on her face. “Your father has decided to name the babes Baelon and Danae.”

Baelon. Danae.

Rhaenyra swallowed harshly as she digested the names. She did not know where the name for her sister came from, she did not remember that name from their family history, but Baelon was a name she knew well. The name of her grandfather, the Spring Prince, Baelon the Brave. It was the name that had been most often spoken about for her unborn siblings, all boys in her father’s mind.

“Rhaenyra?” She felt a warm hand wrap gently around her wrist, a supportive arm coil around her waist.

“Will you not hold one of them?” Aunt Viserra asked and she realized her aunt was now standing next to her, looking at her hesitantly.

Rhaenyra shook her head, almost imperceptibly. A turn of her head so small that the wet-nurse on the corner of the room and the maid who was busying herself tending to her siblings’ clothes would not notice. But Aunt Viserra and Aurelia would. How could they not? The Dowager Lady of White Harbor had been one of the first to hold her after her birth, having traveled to King’s Landing to support her niece as she gave birth. And Aurelia had known her for four years already, she’d helped her through the grief of her mother’s last two pregnancies, a miscarriage and a stillbirth. 

“I can’t,” she breathed, taking a step back. “I can’t.”

Looking away from the babe in her aunt’s arms, she hugged herself, but not for long. Soon enough she felt someone slip her arms around her shoulders, resting her chin in the crook of her neck. Rhaenyra swallowed her tears and leant into the embrace, knowing at once it was Aurelia.

“It isn’t their fault Rhaenyra,” Aurelia whispered. “What happened to your mother was a tragedy, but women die in childbirth. You shouldn’t blame your siblings for something they had no control over. They need you.”

Rhaenyra knew it wasn’t her siblings’ fault, she knew it wasn’t. It was her father’s fault. He had been the one to push her mother for more children. He had been the one to weaken her until this pregnancy killed her. Her mother’s death was her father’s fault. His and his alone.

She pulled away from Aurelia's embrace, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "I know, I know," she whispered, her voice trembling as she turned to the cradle where one of her siblings was. 

Running a hand over the polished wood, carved with patterns of dragons and flames and the crown, she reached in and traced a finger over the baby’s soft, plump cheek. It was a tiny little thing. Pale and pink, with tufts of silver hair already poking out from the swaddling clothes. 

“This is your sister,” Aurelia whispered. “Danae.”

“I will hold her,” she muttered, watching carefully as Aurelia leaned down and plucked the newborn into her arms, almost as if it were second nature, no nervousness or hesitance whatsoever in her actions. 

Rhaenyra stretched out her arms and the babe was placed in them gently. She looked like their mother, she realized as she looked down at her sister. The same round eyes lined with thin purple veins, the same straight lips and slim jaw.

"My childhood is over," she whispered out loud. In the relative silence of the room, it echoed back at her strangely. 

“It isn’t,” her aunt said at once. She looked up at the older princess curiously. “I know I said I was going to the Reach after your mother gave birth, but I’ll stay here instead. I can’t leave you three at the mercy of the Small Council so soon. I’ll take over your mother’s duties so you don’t have to.”

"Thank you, Aunt,” she muttered, already knowing that in the next months she would  need all the support and help she could get. Her mother was dead, but the rest of her family was still here and she would treasure them for as long as she could.

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The day of Aemma's funeral was a beautiful one, and Aurelia didn't know if she should feel like it was Aemma’s beautiful and optimistic spirit that was with them for one last time or if the gods just wanted to mock them and their mourning on this day.

After her body had been on a bier in the Royal sept for seven days and seven nights, to pacify the Faith and so everyone could pay their respect to the Queen, they had finally gathered far outside of Kings Landing on a green field close to the cliffs overlooking Blackwater Bay for the funeral. Syrax waited for her rider’s command on top of a small hill to their left, restless and confused, not understanding why she felt such sorrow and loss.

Aurelia stood next to Princess Rhaenys, week-old Danae strapped to her chest. Baelon had been deemed too weak to leave the castle and was under the care of his nursemaids in the nursery.

She did not listen to one word the Septon was saying about Aemma, it was the same nonsense every time anyway. Empty words, spoken by a person who had barely even met Aemma and thought that their talk of the gods and a merciful afterlife for a woman who died doing her duty to the crown would make them feel better or lessen the pain that rose once more at the sight of her body on the funeral pyre. 

She wished she could have saved her, but her healing magic had always been very basic and in itself, her magic was not very strong. The magic in Westeros was so faded that it was hard to find an anchor to draw power from and her meditation sessions in the godswood could only do so much. But she was determined to change that. She would not allow another one of her loved ones to die if she could have saved them. First her mother, now Aemma. No more, she vowed. She’d do what she needed in order to keep them safe.

When the Septon finally came to an end, Aurelia pulled herself out of her thoughts and turned her full attention to the people in front of her. It was the moment Aurelia knew Rhaenyra feared the most, and there would be no comfort for her, not even from her father since he was barely able to keep himself from falling apart. 

She watched on as Rhaenyra tried to find the strength to voice the command for her dragon to cremate her mother and contemplated going up to her when Prince Daemon beat her to it. Aurelia hoped that for once in his life, the Prince would be able to consider the feelings of others around him and not say anything stupid. The stories of the Rogue Prince were many and very few painted him in a favorable light. 

Today at least, he seemed to be able to say the right thing, or just enough not to make it worse. Rhaenyra stepped forward, and though she hesitated for another moment, when she said the word, her voice was firm and determined, her head held high as they watched Syrax comply, moving closer to the bodies before releasing her fire. 

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Alicent was sad, when she heard of the Queen’s death. She shed a few tears in the privacy of her bedroom, and prayed to the gods that she would have safe passage to the afterlife.

Queen Aemma had been so excited, and she had spoken so fondly of the babe before it was born. She even admitted to them that she dreamed it would be a girl. “I know your father thinks it isn’t so, but when you’re a mother — you’ll know.”

Alicent had thought she said that a little sadly. She wondered now if Queen Aemma had known more than just the gender of one of the babes, if perhaps she’d known she would not survive the birth. 

She had visited the babies — even if she was not of an age to tend to them. That was work for older women, who had experience with children. But Alicent liked babies, and wanted some of her own someday. 

She was surprised to see Aurelia in the nursery alone with the babes, her dress seemingly discarded as she held one of them to her bare chest, rubbing circles on the small back through the thin cloth of her chemise.

"Alicent," she smiled absently as she stroked the babe’s back. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought to see the babes," she answered quietly. "Do you need help? Where are their nursemaids?"

"Those nurses don’t know what a babe needs," Aurelia chuckled wryly. "I sent them away, I’ll probably end up spending the night to tend to them."

"Is that allowed?"

"I don’t know," her friend admitted. "But I made a promise to the Queen that I’d care for her children. Rhaenyra has us, while these two have no one. If you want, you can walk with Danae for a bit. It’d be good practice for the future. Someday, we’ll both have our own babes to care for."

Someday soon, maybe, for she was sixteen now. She knew it wasn’t what her father wanted for her though, not yet. 

But it turned out she didn’t know what her father wanted at all. 

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Rhaenyra hummed in thought as her eyes searched the dragon eggs displayed before her. None of them seemed to catch her attention and she feared she’d have to return to the Red Keep without an egg for her sister. Few of them were warm.

"This is all of them?" 

The man standing to her left bowed his head. "Yes, Princess."

Hmm. That was surprising. Silverwing was mated to Vermithor and Sheepstealer was female as well. There should be more eggs in Dragonstone, even if Dreamfyre was the one who laid the most eggs and she nested in the Dragonpit instead.

She’d flown to Dragonstone, dragging Aurelia with her to find an egg for her sister and it appeared that little Danae would have to claim a grown dragon, unless the keepers found another egg. 

Rhaenyra stepped forward to inspect the eggs further. She softly ran her fingers over the cold scales until she picked up a red egg with white and golden swirls.

"How do you know which egg to choose?" Aurelia questioned, stepping closer to her as she too looked at the eggs in wonder. Her friend was fascinated with the dragons and that was part of the reason she’d invited her to come, despite her devotion to her siblings.

“We choose the warmer ones, because they’re closer to hatching. But none of these are really warm, so I guess I’ll end up choosing the prettier one.”

Rhaenyra waited a long moment to see if something will change, if she will feel something — she waited for any kind of sign that the egg in her hands was special — but there were none. She felt nothing while holding the beautiful egg. 

"Do you think there is a chance the egg won't hatch?" Aurelia asked her, walking alongside her. 

Rhaenyra hummed. “Of course. Laenor and I were lucky to have our eggs hatch when we were in the cradle. Most eggs take years to hatch. Seasmoke was originally the egg placed in my father’s cradle and it wasn’t until Laenor was a babe that it hatched, after all.”

Rhaenyra caught sight of another egg and stopped walking as soon as her eyes landed on it. It was a deep green, with swirls of pink all around. She took it in her hands and was disappointed it wasn’t scorching out, but she still felt it was the right choice. She knew this egg would hatch at one point. 

“My great-great aunt Rhaena started the tradition of the cradle eggs, but most don’t hatch. Velma Rhaenys claimed Meleys when she was a teenager and my father also claimed Balerion when he was grown. Vhagar is on her third rider since the Conquest,” she hugged the egg close. “My siblings can always claim a dragon once they grow. There are many dragons here in Dragonstone available.”

Rhaenyra turned to the Dragonkeepers and handed one of them the egg. "Prepare this one for transport.” 

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“Send a maid for the Princess Aurelia,” Viserys ordered as he left his bed and pulled a robe around his shoulders.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Ser Harrold looked momentarily puzzled, but raced to do the king’s bidding.

Viserys let out a deep sigh and looked around his chamber, his eyes drawn to the painting of Aemma, which hung on the wall opposite him. It was a stunning portrait, depicting her as she had been on their last trip to Dragonstone, radiant and full of life. Her hair was a cascade of silver waves, and her eyes sparkled with an inner light that had always captivated him.

As he stared at the painting, memories flooded his mind. He remembered their wedding day, when he had taken her as his bride and they had vowed to love and cherish each other for all time. He remembered when they consummated their marriage, and the nerves they had both sported that night. He remembered the births of their children, little Jaehaerys, Rhaenyra, all the stillbirths and miscarriages and the twins that now slept soundly in their nursery. He remembered the laughter they had shared, the tears they had shed, and the love that had bound them together.

But with the memories came a sense of loss and longing. Aemma was gone, and he would never see her smile or hear her voice again. It was a thought that pained him deeply, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness at the thought of facing life without her.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to push the thoughts away. It was then that he heard footsteps approaching, and he opened his eyes to see Princess Aurelia standing before him. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before the reality of the situation settled in. It was time to move on, to face the future without Aemma by his side.

“Your Grace.”

Viserys paused, letting the young woman remain in her curtsy as he studied her. She was young, frankly, younger than he had thought. Despite her presence in the court for a few years already, he had never paid much attention to her. She was Aemma’s ward, not his and it had been his wife and his Aunt Viserra who’d taken charge of her. And the day of Aemma’s death, when he’d come upon her in the nursery, he’d been too deep in his grief to truly pay attention to her. But not now.

Despite her youth, she held herself proudly  and there was a glint in her eyes hinting at something more. All in all, she reminded him slightly of a younger Rhaenys. Confident in herself, strong-willed and well-learned. She’d do.

“Do you know your languages, Princess?”

“Apart from Common, I was taught High Valyrian and the old Rhoynish tongue as a child,” she answered calmly. "I also learned many of the dialects spoken in Essos and can read texts written in the old tongues of the Stormlands and Dorne."

That was more than he expected and from the slight smirk her lips curled into, he must have let his surprise show on his face. “And your music?”

"I can’t say I’m a skilled musician," she admitted. "I can carry a tune and play the lute, but that’s all."

A slight silence stretched between them before Viserys posed the most important question of all.

“Do you like children, Princess?”

"I would be glad to be blessed with them when the time comes."

“And you know what they like… and what they can be like.”

“I would like to think so, yes.”

“Good. Now, with my wife’s death, she will not be able to choose who will care for the twins in the nursery. I know how dear she held you in her heart. Indeed, had it not been for you, I might not have my children with me. I would offer you the position as the Lady Governess of the twins until it comes time for them to start their lessons."

For the first time since she’d entered the chamber, Aurelia smiled, sweeping into another curtsey. "I’d be honored."

Viserys smiled, feeling a sense of relief. He knew that his late wife held Aurelia in high regard — Aemma had first thought of her as another daughter, or perhaps a pampered niece, but he knew his wife had then thought of her as a friend and a confidant. Knowing that, he trusted her to care for their children in her absence. "Excellent. I am grateful for your acceptance. Your duties will commence immediately."

Chapter Text

Daemon finds himself standing before his brother sooner than he might have liked, head still pounding from all the alcohol he ingested the previous night.

Viserys sits on the Iron Throne, and the mighty look on his face doesn’t bode well for their conversation. He was surprised his brother was alone, save for the members of the Kingsguard who were also present in the room.

“You cut the image of the Conqueror, brother.”

“Did you say it?” The question resonates against the walls, his brother’s voice hollow and angry all at once.

He made to the step towards the throne, only to be deterred by the movement from his brother’s White Cloaks. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You will address me as 'Your Grace', or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue.”

His brother means it, Daemon realizes, and he stands up straighter. Despite the situation, he feels proud. It is the first time in years he sees his brother acting like a Targaryen, like a dragon. Even if the dragonfire is directed at him.

“‘The weakest Targaryen’ Did you say it?”

Daemon’s memories of the night are fuzzy at best. That sounds like something he might have said under the influence of alcohol, but he can’t be sure. “We must all deal with our pain in our own ways, Your Grace.”

“My family has just been destroyed, but instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra’s, instead of meeting your new niece and nephew, you chose to celebrate my wife’s death and my son’s illness!” Viserys’ voice rises as he speaks. “You chose to spend the night in a brothel, celebrating your own rise with your whores and lickspittles!” 

There’s a dangerous glint in his brother’s eyes, one Daemon has rarely seen, if ever.

His heart sinks. He’s the one who spent the previous evening comforting Rhaenyra, holding her until she fell asleep, to give the dornish girl a reprieve. How dare his brother question his commitment to his family when he was the one who couldn’t bring himself to look at his daughter during her mother’s funeral?

Daemon reins in his temper. He isn’t sure it would appease his brother to let him know he spent some time with his daughter, in her rooms and unsupervised. “That’s not what happened — Your Grace,” he tacks on at the last moment.

“You have no allies in this court but me!” Viserys’ voice broke as he yelled. “I have only ever defended you! And, everything I have given you, you have thrown back in my face!”

“You only ever tried to send me away,” Daemon says, stepping forward. He would not allow his brother to twist what the crown had done to the two of them. The moment their grandfather passed, their bond snapped. He would not let Viserys forget it. “To the Vale, to the City Watch. Anywhere but by your side, where I always was! You have never asked me to be your Hand!”

“Why would I do that?” Viserys snaps. 

“Because I am your brother,” Daemon answers easily, voice trembling. What had happened to them? They had been close in their childhood, dreaming of flying all throughout Westeros and Essos, of following the path of Aerea and seeing Valyria again. Now, they can barely stand to be in the same room. “And the blood of the dragon runs thick.”

“Then why do you cut me so deeply?” Tears glistened in his older brother’s eyes but refused to fall. 

“I’ve only ever spoken the truth,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “I see Otto Hightower for what he is, something you refuse to do.” 

“An honorable man who serves the realm?”

“An opportunistic cunt,” Daemon scoffs. “A second son who seizes power for himself, who wants to isolate you for his own ends. He doesn’t protect you. I would.”

“And, what need do I have for protection?”

“You're weak, Viserys. And that council of leeches knows it. They all prey on you for their own ends.”

“But you would protect me, wouldn’t you?” Viserys shakes his head, and he looks at Daemon in a way he never has before. “But you would protect me, wouldn’t you?” Viserys shakes his head, and he looks at Daemon in a way he never has before. Like he’s a stranger and not his brother. “You will return to Runestone and your lady wife at once, and you are to do so without protest by order of your King.”

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Rhaenyra smiled in dismissal at the guard that had escorted her to her father. She walked closer and also looked up at the skull of Balerion. The beast that had conquered Westeros. The last remaining vestige of Valyria. Her father’s dragon.

“Kepa.”

Keeping his eyes on the giant skull of Balerion the Dread, hands folded behind his back, her father didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Balerion was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom – its greatness and its flaws,” with that, he finally turned towards her. “When you look at the dragons, what do you see?”

“What?” Rhaenyra asked in surprise, a sense of hurt rising in her chest. “You haven’t spoken a word to me since Mother’s funeral, and now you send your Kingsguard —”

“Answer me,” her father insisted.  “It’s important.  What do you see?”

Rhaenyra swallowed as she refocused on the large skull, tears forming in her eyes. Her eyes slide to the holes in the skull of the Black Dread where his own eyes used to be. Balerion was the last child of Old Valyria to have seen it in all its glory and decay. He brought Daenys and her family to Westeros, facilitated their escape. He was a friend, a formidable ally to them, but to others he represented death. “I suppose I see us.”

“Tell me.”

“Everyone says that Targaryens are closer to gods than to men,” Rhaenyra answered, having grown up hearing as much. Courtiers loved to remark on it and her uncle loved to remind her of it. “But they merely say that because of our dragons.  Without them, we’re just like everyone else.”

Her father’s purple gaze brightened in pride, giving her an embarrassing spark of joy warm in her gut, and he nodded his approval. “The idea that we control the dragons… it is an illusion. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don’t mind our histories, it will do the same to us. A Targaryen must understand this to be king… or queen.”

She must be misunderstanding him. There was no way that now… Her entire life she’d never been enough. He loved her, she’d never doubted that. But her father wished for a son. He wanted an heir. He’d killed her mother for an heir. He had Baelon now. 

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra. I have wasted the years since you were born… wanting for a son,” her father continued, seemingly unaware the thoughts going through her mind. “You are the very best of your mother. And I believe – as I know she did – that you could be a great ruling queen.”

This was everything that Rhaenyra had ever wanted to hear (not that she would be queen, only that her father thought her capable of ruling), but it didn’t make any sense. “You have a son now. Baelon is your heir. And after him, Daemon.”

“Daemon was not made to wear the crown,” her father took a step forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. “But, I believe that you were. Your mother wished for me to name you my heir. She asked me to do so many times. I should have listened to her. It would have saved us the pain of losing her.”  

“This is no trivial gesture, Rhaenyra,” her father continued, unperturbed by her silence. “A dragon’s saddle is one thing, but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm.”

“I know that, Father,” Rhaenyra said, finally finding her voice. “Your life is not your own. It belongs to the realm.”

“Rhaenyra… there’s something else that I need to tell you. It might be difficult for you to understand, but you must hear it.”

Rhaenyra merely tilted her head, waiting for him to speak. Scared that if she said the wrong thing that he would take this all back.

“Our histories – they tell us that Aegon looked across the Blackwater from Dragonstone and saw a rich land ripe for capture, but ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest,” her father stepped back, his gaze on her. “It was a dream. Just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men. ‘Tis to begin with a terrible winter gusting out of the distant north.”

Rhaenyra gasped in surprise, recognizing what he was saying. Aurelia had been reading a book on the First Men a few moons past and it had talked of it.   

“Aegon saw absolute darkness riding on those winds. And whatever dwells within will destroy the world of the living,” her father sighed, and his shoulders sagged. He looked haunted, like it had not been just a story told but a dream he himself had seen.  “When this Great Winter comes, Rhaenyra, all of Westeros must stand against it. And if the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne. A king or queen strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, and Rhaenyra tried and failed to swallow down the lump in her throat.  

“Aegon called his dream ‘the Song of Ice and Fire,’” her father continued. “This secret – it’s been passed from king to heir since Aegon’s time. Now, you must promise to carry it… and protect it. Promise me this, Rhaenyra. Promise me.”

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Rhaenyra stared at her reflection as Aurelia twisted her braids into a crown around her head. After years at court, the Martell Princess had become more than adept in Valyrian braids and was expertly separating, twisting and braiding her hair.

Aunt Rhaenys, Aunt Viserra, Laena and Alicent were overlooking her jewelry and dress, making sure everything was perfect while Aurelia finished with her hair. 

Her heart thundered in her chest, beyond nervous for the ceremony this morning. All the High Lords of the realm were converging on the capital to swear fealty to her as the Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra had spent the past two moons in shock, trying to wrap her head around her fathers abrupt change of heart and Aegon I's prophecy about the end of the world . Was it true? Daenys' famous prophecy had come true, all fourteen of Valyria’s volcanoes erupting in unison a dozen years after the Targaryens' flight to Dragonstone. Would Aegon’s dream be the same? Would winter envelope the known world, would a descendant born of her line have to lead men against this great threat?

“All done,” Aurelia whispered. “Princess Rhaenys and I are going to go the nursery to look for your siblings and then we’ll come back.” 

Rhaenyra nodded, feeling as if she was floating while she was helped into her dress, not even registering Aurelia’s and her aunt’s return, the former with Danae strapped to her chest securely and the latter passing Baelon to Aunt Viserra at once. She watched herself in the mirror, remembering all the days of work that had gone into her dress.

The girl that stared back at her through the mirror was no longer a princess newly turned fourteen. She was a woman who was to become heir to the Seven Kingdoms. A future queen. The first queen to rule in her own right. 

Rhaenyra had only known two queens. Queen Alysanne and Queen Aemma. But she would be a different sort of queen. Her power would not be dependent on her husband. She’d be the power. She’d be a ruler on her own right.

She was not the girl in the godswood who dreamed of flights across the Narrow Sea. Not anymore. Now, she was the heir to the Iron Throne, the heir to the Seven Kingdoms.

The thought is daunting. She’s old enough to know that her succession will likely be challenged — her uncle has as many enemies as he has friends and many would prefer to see him on the throne rather than her, a girl. There’s a reason her father sits the throne instead of Aunt Rhaenys. There’s a reason why she didn’t immediately replace Daemon as heir when she was born. And, more than that, she has a brother now. Baelon is a babe, but he will grow into a man. How can she know he won’t resent her, won’t resent their father, for robbing him of what could be considered his birthright? How can she expect people to follow her, to support her, when she has a brother and an uncle?

Alicent seemed to sense her discomfort as she set her hands on Rhaenyra’s shoulders. Her eyes were full of concern and it made Rhaenyra tremble. 

She placed her hands atop Alicent’s and pulled their hands close to her chest as Alicent hugged her slightly from behind so as not to ruin the dress. Her friend pressed her cheek against Rhaenyra’s ear. She closed her eyes and tried to stay in that moment, where they were both the girls who had played and laughed in the godswood.

However, when Rhaenyra opened her eyes, she knew that they would not be allowed to be those girls still.  

She let Alicent go ready herself and Princess Rhaenys took her place, sliding the Targaryen cloak over her shoulders, pining it in place with a clasp that once belonged to Queen Rhaenys, the design supposedly based off of Meraxes, the dragon that had been slayed alongside her.

Rhaenyra met Rhaenys' gaze in the mirror. "Are you angry, that I have been named heir when you were overlooked ?" 

Rhaenys' expression softened. "Of course not. I would not blame you for my grandfather’s actions. I hold no blame for you, my darling girl, I swear it. You will make a marvelous queen." 

Rhaenyra smiled, touched. "Thank you, Velma." 

Rhaenys squeezed her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "A true Valyrian princess. Beautiful." 

She felt as if she were suffocating underneath it all. Under the weight of the dress and the cloak, of the knowledge of the burden she’d be placed under today.

“Rhaenyra,” Aurelia murmured. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything that will help?”

She shook her head and turned to her friend and took her fellow Princess’ hands into her own. “Promise me,” she said. “Promise me that you will not abandon me.”

The dornishwoman looked down at their clasped hands and studied them for a long moment. “I promise.”

Once she had collected herself and felt ready, she was escorted to the throne room by Ser Harrold, whose eyes shone with pride, Ser Erryk, who bowed deeply and respectfully and Ser Jamie, whose eyes were red-rimmed. They flanked behind her, shoulders thrown back with pride at escorting the new crown princess — the first crown princess. 

The throne room was packed to the rafters with high lords and their ladies. She strode confidently down the center aisle, head held high, Aurelia and Aunt Viserra walking behind her with her siblings. She paused at the base of the throne and curtseyed to her father. He stood and descended the steps of the throne, remaining on the last one, Blackfyre — their ancestral family sword — in hand. 

"My lords and ladies of the realm," her father addresses the crowd. "I have come a to a decision regarding my succession. I, Viserys Targaryen, First of My Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name… my eldest child, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

A pin could be dropped in the room and everyone would hear it, that is the strength of the silence that engulfs the room. Some look towards her with scrutinizing eyes, while others look through her almost — they look at Aurelia and her aunt, no doubt. They want to know who was the honor of holding the Prince the Queen died birthing, the Prince who is being overlooked in favor of his elder sister.

“You may now swear oaths to the Princess, for this is the decision of your king,” her father says, sitting down on the throne.

Rhaenyra turned back around and faced the lords of Westeros, heart nearly leaping from her chest as Mellos ordered the first lord, Corlys Velaryon, forward to swear fealty. He did so, kneeling before her and saying the vows the other lords came forth to repeat. 

"I, Lord last name, Lord of wherever, vow to be faithful to King Viserys and his chosen heir, the Princess Rhaenyra; I pledge fealty to her, I vow to defend her against enemies, in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the old gods, and the new." 

It was strange to see some of the mens she had known all her life bend the knee towards her. Some of them were proud men, like Corlys. She wondered their true thoughts, how they felt about bending the knee to a girl who was not even of age.  

By the time they had finished, Rhaenyra's feet ached and she was desperate to sit, but she didn't let it show. Maester Mellos looped the chain of the heir around her throat and stepped back, bowing. She turned and faced her father, bowing her head respectfully, for once looking at the throne differently.

The chair Aegon had fashioned would no longer be her brother’s seat. It would now be hers. A burden she’d be forced to bear. The loss of her freedom gnawed at her bones and itched from her skin, but she remained steadfast as she bowed her head to her father. 

He nodded back, a proud gleam in his eyes. "I, Viserys Targaryen, First of my Name, King of the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen the Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne!" 

Chapter Text

April 108 AC

As usual, Otto found the king in his chambers at work on his model.  "Ah, Otto, good morning."

"Good morning, Your Grace," he returned. "I am concerned, I must say."

"Tell me of your concerns as we walk,"  with that Viserys stood and made his way out of the rooms, no doubt heading for the Small Council chambers.

"I am just concerned for the Realm, Your Grace and what may happen…" he did not go any further, seeing the dark expression coming on the King’s face.

"My wife is barely cold in her grave," the king hissed. "I will not hear more of the succession at this moment. Rhaenyra is my heiress and it will remain so."

"My apologies, but it is something that we must discuss," the Hand insisted harder, his voice calm but raised. "You have a son at last. He should be Prince of Dragonstone. The succession must be discussed."

"And I have stated that it will be dealt with after the mour–"  the door opening made him stop suddenly. "Aunt."

Otto turned around and found Princess Viserra, with the Princesses Aurelia and Rhaenyra both trailing behind her. He nodded his head to the three, giving a small bow.

"Viserys, it is good to see you this morning," the elder Targaryen princess replied.  "Lord Hightower."

Otto’s eyes narrowed. "It is lovely to see that you are making sure your niece has found her way here. It is very dear indeed, to see you caring for your niece in such a way after the Queen’s passing."

"Oh, they will be joining us," Corlys Velaryon told him as he entered the room, a broad smile on his face. 

"The King has an announcement to make," Princess Rhaenyra said as she stepped into the chamber.

He wasn’t sure why, but Otto did not think he would like whatever it was.

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Viserys lead her into the chamber and sat her on Otto Hightower’s right. Around the table were the members of the Small Council, with Aurelia standing uncertainly by Rhaenyra’s side. Corlys took his seat, as did Otto and then finally the King.  Her niece was standing by a side table, a jug in her hands.

"Gentlemen…and Princesses, I thank you for coming. There was a proposal put to me and I think that it will be at least a temporary solution to some problems we have to address," he began, skirting around any direct mention of topics he wasn’t ready to deal with. Particularly the succession and his remarriage. "When we host guests at the keep, it is traditionally the queen’s duty to prepare the court for their arrival. That is one more way in which my wife’s death has left a vacuum here. It is because of this, that I have decided to appoint one of the women in my family to this role. That said, the Princess Viserra will take on these set of duties."

"I am sorry, but there are other ladies who can act as such, Your Grace," Otto said, rather shockingly for Viserys. But she’d been expecting as much. The man hated it when her nephew thought for himself, especially if he could not redirect him into what he wished. 

"And who else could that be, my Lord Hand?" Rhaenyra questioned. "You yourself and Lord Beesbury are widowed, Lord Strong’s wife is still at their seat of Harrenhal, the Grand Maester has no wife, I am not of age yet. The only other woman of sufficient standing is Princess Rhaenys and she is needed at Driftmark." 

"You are correct," Viserys then he turned back to his Hand. "Do you have some objection to my aunt being given duties such as this?"

Seeing no objection, Viserys prepared to speak again. "With that settled, I also wished to let you know who will be in charge of my children’s nursery and allow you to meet her."

"Sire, my goodsister Rosamund is not at court," once again, Otto interrupted. The man had been pushing for more Hightowers to gain positions in the city, most recently with pushing his son into the Gold Cloaks and expressing his wish for the current Lady Hightower to be in charge of rearing the youngest of the royal children.

"That is because despite her being considered for the position, I decided to go another route. The Princess Aurelia has already agreed to become the governess for the twins."

Once again, everyone turned to Otto Hightower, awaiting an objection. But this time he was smart and one never came.

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Viserys strode into the royal nursery, his eyes taking in the quiet, peaceful scene before him. 

Aurelia was sat in the rocking chair, gently cradling the twins in her arms. They were so tiny, so fragile, and yet they, along with Rhaenyra, were all that he had left of Aemma.

"How are they doing?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"They are doing well, Your Grace," Aurelia replied softly, looking up at him. "They are growing stronger every day."

"Do they cry much?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Aurelia shook her head, glancing down at the babes and stroking Baelon’s cheek. "Not much, Your Grace. They are very happy babies."

The king sighed, relieved. "And their health? Are they healthy?"

She met his gaze. "As well as can be expected, Your Grace," she replied. "Princess Danae is thriving, and Prince Baelon is slowly building up his strength, though his lungs remain weak still."

"I trust you are keeping a close eye on them both."

"Of course, Your Grace," Aurelia said with a nod. "I spend most of my days here, and if I am not here, they are under the care of nurses hand-selected by the Queen before they were born."

The king looked at her with gratitude, knowing the work that went into caring for newborns. "Excellent. I expect you to continue to do so."

"Of course, Your Grace."

The king was about to turn and leave when he paused. "One more thing, Aurelia. I would like to request that we have dinner weekly so that I may be kept up to date with what happens in the nursery. Rhaenyra might join us at times."

"Of course, Your Grace," she said with a nod.

"Perfect," the king said with a smile before turning and making his way out of the room.

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Rhaenyra put the green and pink egg that she had chosen into her sister’s crib very carefully making sure not to disturb her sleep. She’d heard her crying in the afternoon and knew the poor thing must be exhausted. She hoped the egg would hatch, despite not being as warm as she would have liked. She would love to have a hatchling in the castle. The last dragon to have hatched in the cradle had been Syrax and she didn’t remember her as a hatchling. And it would allow them to bond, for her to teach them about the dragons and their bond.

She glanced to the other crib and saw Baelon fussing. Carefully, she let go of the egg and after ensuring it didn’t roll, she placed a hand on Baelon’s stomach, rubbing soothing circles until he went back into a calm sleep, his hand reaching out to his own bronze egg.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra. You are going to be a good sister I just know it."

"Father…" she blushed, embarrassed. 

"Oh, Rhaenyra, you already picked eggs for both of them. You soothed Baelon before he could even cry. You’re caring for them already, even when they have an army of nursemaids ready to tend to their every need. That is proof you’ll be a good sister. A good mother, when the time comes as well."

Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose at the thought of being a mother one day. She didn’t want that now and she wasn’t sure she’d ever want it. Motherhood had only ever brought pain to her mother. Her mother had loved her and she’d never doubted it, but more often than not pregnancy left her mother weak and bleeding, despair across her face. It had claimed her mother’s life and both her grandmothers had died as a result of difficult childbirths — she didn’t want that to be her fate.

Alicent talked about it sometimes, her friend wanted children to love and spoil. She was adamant that it was their duty as women, as the wives they would become. As women, they had to wish to be blessed by the Mother, or so Alicent said. Her friend was pious and devout to the Seven, much unlike Rhaenyra herself who believed in the Valyrian gods. The Faith of the Seven might preach that women belonged on their back for their husband’s pleasure and to provide them with heirs, but the Fourteen gods of Old Valyria knew otherwise. Their worth was not defined by their wombs.

"Do I have to marry?"

Her father smiled softly. "As a Princess, it is your duty to marry, to secure an alliance for us. But I will make sure it is to a man who is worthy of you."

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She is deep in her prayers to her gods when she hears a branch snap, and jolts to look behind her.

"Aurelia," Rhaenyra greets, and for once she does not appear pleased to see her. "I did not expect to see you here."

Aurelia swallows the heavy lump in her throat and hopes her tears are not obvious. "I’ve been here since the early morning. I apologize if you’ve spent time looking for me."

"There is nothing to apologize for," Rhaenyra says, and Aurelia wonders if she is imagining her own tearful eyes.

"My condolences, Aurelia," Alicent says from the shadow of Rhaenyra. "I know you were very close to Queen Aemma. Let me be here for you as you were there for me when my own lady mother passed."

Aurelia blinks tearfully. "Thank you, Alicent. I was praying for her soul."

"I’m sure she’s being welcomed into the Mother’s embrace."

"Aye," Aurelia frowns, but that is all she says in return. 

A silence comes across the clearing in the godswood, and Aurelia wants nothing more than to be left to her prayers to Queen Hera and Lady Artemis.

Rhaenyra has other plans.

"Alicent, leave us?" She asks, but she does tear her eyes from Aurelia.

"Rhaenyra?" Alicent asks, voice hushed.

"Please?"

"We have lessons with Septa Marlow soon."

"I will apologize to her later," Rhaenyra soothes her friend’s worries. "Go, Alicent."

Alicent leaves, but not without sending Aurelia a piercing look. She has seen that look on Otto Hightower’s face many times before.

"Are you praying?" 

"Yes," she says softly. "To my gods. For your mother’s soul and for the continued health of your siblings."

"How do you pray here?" Rhaenyra asks and steps closer. "How do you pray… to a tree?"

"It is not so different from praying in a sept," Aurelia says softly. "I follow the old gods of my father’s and mother’s lands, but they were worshipped freely in nature, Mother Rhoyne by the water preferably. This is the closest I can get to a proper place to worship them."

Aurelia beckons her forward. "Come. Kneel with me."

Rhaenyra does as she asked and drops to her knees on the dirt beneath the oak tree. She urges her to bow her head and clasp her hands together.

"This is familiar," she says. "I will prefer to pay my respects here if it means avoiding the cold stone of the sept."

Aurelia giggles. "Yes, the initial religions of our lands had us pray in nature."

They are blessed with a few moments of silence and she thanks the gods for them as she renews her prayers. 

Glorious Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto, goddess of the hunt, mistress of animals, protector of children, I pray to you to protect Baelon and Danae, watch over them, and keep them out of harm

"Am I doing it right?" Rhaenyra nudges her side.

"There is no right way," Aurelia clears her throat. "The gods should not care for ceremony, only for our devotion. Simply close your eyes and talk to the gods. We’re not restricted to praying in one place."

"But Northeners pray before the weirwood," she stares up at the red leaves above them. "Is this not a place?"

"A true weirwood has a face carved into its trunk. Legend says the Children of the Forest did so. And, they believe the gods watch them through the eyes of that face. That is why they pray before a weirwood," she reached up to touch the smooth bark of the oak tree. "But I don’t pray to the old gods. I pray to Elenei’s parents and the other deities of the storms and the seas. I pray to Mother Rhoyne."

"I think I understand," she admits softly. "So all I have to do is pray? No special prayers or anything of the sort? Just speaking my wishes to the gods and hope they answer?"

"Exactly," Aurelia smiled softly.

Chapter Text

May 108 AC

As his hands roam up and down the sides of her body and he claims her mouth with his, the only thing that Jamie can think about is siring blonde, amber-eyed children with Aurelia. 

He imagines a brood of children, with their features, children made from love and not duty. He runs his fingers through Aurelia’s soft hair, envisioning what it would be like to have a daughter whose long dark hair he could learn to braid. He looks into Aurelia’s eyes and pictures a son who shares the same shade of amber eyes as she. 

It’s a fantasy at best, given that the odds of any of that happening are rather slim, but he’d like to indulge in his thoughts of being inside her while he can. He’s barely seen her lately, with Prince Baelon so ill. Only now, one week after the prince’s latest fever set in, has she left the children in the care of others and they’re taking advantage of her freedom.

Aurelia reaches under his tunic, feeling the hard muscles on his chest, and he smiles against her lips, as he presses her against the wall of the alley.

His lips move down her jaw to her neck, planting hot kisses against her sensitive skin.

She immediately arches her neck, giving him easier access as her fingers trace the lines of his abs. Her touch ignites heat inside of him that he has never felt with any of the whores he has fucked in these walls before. 

"Jamie," she breathes into his ear, her hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

"Easy, Princess," he murmurs into the base of her neck, her fresh scent overwhelming him.

Jamie knows that he can’t take her here, despite his cock aching under the layers of his clothing. There’s nothing more he wishes to do than to take her against the wall, taking her maidenhead right where they stand, but he knows better.

He knows what it is that he desires and he also knows that Aurelia yearns for more, given the sounds she makes and the way her body reacts to his touch, but he knows he cannot compromise her virtue.

They’re doomed to share kisses in quiet corners and looks across crowded rooms. The have to make do with fleeting touches and quick caresses instead of having their love on display for all to see.

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Aurelia sat in the royal nursery, cradling both babies, as they slept soundly in her arms. She raised her head as the door creaked open, and Amanda Corbray nee Arryn, one of Aemma’s older sisters, entered. She’d been her sister’s chief lady in waiting for years, only taking a leave of absence the times when there was trouble in the Vale and she’d had to return to support her niece.

"Hello, Lady  Amanda," Aurelia greeted her with a warm smile. "What brings you to the nursery today?"

"I wanted to see the babes before Robar and I depart," Amanda answered softly, her eyes drawn to her sleeping niece and nephew. "It breaks my heart to leave them, but we can’t stay here without a clear reason or position anymore."

Aurelia nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that you're leaving. But, would you stay if you or Ser Robar had a position at court?"

Amanda turned her attention to Aurelia. "Well, my goodfather and our son have Heart’s Home well in hand. I do think we’d stay. I would love to see them grow as I saw Rhaenyra."

"I have not finished making the appointments in the nursery. The nursemaids and the wet-nurses were selected by Queen Aemma, but she had not chosen the more delicate positions. A man recommended by my uncle will come to be the secretary of the nursery, but I’m still missing a Chamberlain."

Amanda's eyes lit up with hope. "And you're offering me this position?"

"Yes," Aurelia nodded. "Princess Rhaenyra thinks highly of you. I don’t see why her siblings should not grow with you near. This way, you can stay at court and watch other them as they grow."

Amanda's face softened, and she looked at the sleeping babies with affection. "Thank you, Aurelia," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "This means so much to me."

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Rhaenyra held her baby brother — now six weeks old— in her arms. He was wearing a tiny, red doublet with matching pants. Aurelia held Danae, garbed in a similar dress as they sat in what had once been her mother’s garden, overlooking the Blackwater.

"Are you betrothed, Alicent?" Aurelia asked before pressing a kiss to Danae’s pale hair, the girl excited by all of the birds flying over the water. "We are of an age, aren’t we? My father talked to me of potential matches when we last saw each other. Has your father mentioned anyone?"

"I am not yet betrothed," Alicent sighed. "But it will likely be soon." 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes as she bounced the baby on her leg. "Can we talk of something other than marriage?"

Aurelia shook her head. "In a few years time you shall have to choose your Prince Consort or someone will have to choose for you. Do you want the choice to be yours? Or do you want the men of the Council to choose for you?"

Rhaenyra did not say anything. 

Alicent changed the subject away from marriage to the opening in the Kingsguard. "Rhaenyra, do you know of when your father will choose a new member of the Kingsguard?"

"I don’t," Rhaenyra frowns. "Ser Ryam died so soon after Mother that I don’t think he’s thinking of it yet."

"Perhaps you could make a list of suggestions," Aurelia suggests as she removes her necklace from Danae’s grip. "Show him you’re taking your duties seriously."

"Ser Criston Cole, for example," Alicent smiles widely.

"The landless knight that dismounted Prince Daemon?" Aurelia asks incredulously.

"He showed some prowess at the tourney," Rhaenyra contemplates. "Your father also performed well, didn’t he, Aurelia?"

"I couldn’t say," she says carefully. "I left early to attend to your mother."

"He did," Alicent confirms. "He was in the final ten."

"My father won’t join the Kingsguard, not if I know him well," Aurelia says then. "It’s an honor, but he has me and Morgan and I’m living here. He would never be able to be impartial if danger came and I do think he wishes to marry again, but he just hasn’t found the right woman."

"That’s so romantic," Alicent coos. "And your parents were in love, weren’t they? After they married to end a war. Oh, Aurelia, your parents were a fairytale."

"What about a Valeman? Jamie, perhaps?" Rhaenyra suggests, seeing the frown forming on Aurelia’s face at Alicent’s comment. 

"Ser Jamie told me he will request to guard your siblings," Aurelia answered easily. "The Vale is already tied to the Crown as is the North. And the Hand of the King and the Princess’ sole lady in waiting are from the Reach. So, those three regions are out. The Stormlands might feel slighted because of the Great Council still, but perhaps a Riverlander might be a good idea. They constantly have border conflicts, so their men will have experience."

The three women continued to converse on who would be an appropriate appointment for the Kingsguard only the babies started to fuss and Aurelia left, needing to hand them to their wet-nurses before preparing them for bed.

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"You wish to hold a feast in honor of the babes?" Viserra repeated, blonde brows arching in surprise as she sipped her wine. 

Having been back in King’s Landing for thirteen years and been considered as a possible bride for Corlys, Viserra as well acquainted with his ambition and drive for power. 

"Surely there is something to be celebrated," he said, pointedly. "The king has a son after years of waiting and with another healthy daughter as well."

"I understand that, nephew," Viserra snorted, using the term to remind Corlys that despite the wealth of his house, she was his aunt by marriage and deserved respect because of that. "But Aemma died to bring them into the world. And Baelon…gods know I love that boy, but it’s almost as if he still has part of his soul with the spirits. He’s very weak and having too many people descending onto the Keep or having him travel to Driftmark would not help. People whisper of your drive for power. You wouldn’t want them to whisper even more."

Corlys regarded her carefully. "And what would they whisper?"

"Ambition of the highest sort," Viserra murmured with a pointed look. "I can’t fault you for it. I know ambition very well. But to secure Viserys for Laena, you need to go about it delicately."

He appeared slightly relieved and slightly taken aback. "Then you—"

"I neither agree nor disagree with the match. She is young enough to be his daughter —"

"I’m older than Rhaenys’ father and you married a man older than your father," Corlys dismissed her.

"And I was miserable during my years in White Harbor. Edrick was my only joy," Viserra countered. "Others will seek a match. And Viserys might be more worried with finding a husband for Rhaenyra than his own remarriage."

"Laena and Laenor are the best choices," Corlys insisted. "Children of Rhaenys, it would reconcile the decision of the lords at the Great Council."

"While it would help soothe slight dealt to my niece, they are not the only matches," Viserra arched her brow. "Edrick has pure Valyrian blood as well and does not share your son’s inclinations —"

"Laenor will grow out of it."

 "Corlys, if you are to propose such a thing, you must do so delicately. A feast is fine and well, but it’s too soon for it. Baelon’s health is too fragile still. Wait a few months and then put the proposal forward to Viserys and say it will be to celebrate their first nameday."

He nodded.

"And you can’t appear as if you expect something in return. The king trusts you. You need to keep it that way. House Velaryon has always stood with House Targaryen. We must ensure it stays that way."

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As Aurelia walked in, she saw Viserys at the head of the long table, pouring a glass of Arbor Gold. He turned and greeted her with a charming smile.

"Good evening, Princess Aurelia," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "I hope your day has been well."

Aurelia curtsied and took the seat beside him. "It has, Your Grace," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "And yours?"

The king sighed heavily, his eyes flickering with sadness. "I've had better days," he admitted, taking a sip of his wine. "But I'm grateful for your presence. It's always a pleasure to have your company."

Aurelia blushed at his compliment, feeling a sense of excitement flood her senses. While she did think Daemon was the more handsome of the Targaryen brothers, there could be no denying that the king was handsome and now he was flirting with her, ever so slightly. 

"Do sit down and let's enjoy our dinner together."

Aurelia felt her heart skip a beat as she took her seat, feeling the warmth of the king's body beside her. 

"How are the twins? How is Baelon doing?"

Aurelia felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked into his deep purple eyes. She knew she was about to break his heart. "His health is not improving," she whispered. "He is failing to put on weight and I’m scared to take him to the gardens with Danae again. Last time Princess Rhaenyra and I did so, I spent all night with him soothing his cough."

Viserys nodded, his expression serious. "I'm counting on you, Aurelia," he said, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "The twins are my world, and I need to know that they're in good hands."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she murmured. "It's an honor to serve the twins."

The king smiled at her, his eyes flickering with a hint of mischief. "You do more than just serve, Aurelia," he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "You brighten up my evenings and make me feel alive again."

Aurelia felt her cheeks flush with heat as she looked into his eyes. She knew that he was flirting with her, but she didn't know how to respond. While allowing him to court her and eventually marry would permit her to keep her promise to Aemma, her marriage was not her choice. And, it was far too soon after the Queen’s death, it would be a disrespect to her memory.

"I...I don't know what to say, Your Grace," she stammered, feeling flustered.

The king chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. "You don't have to say anything," he said, leaning in closer to her. 

"I...I appreciate your kind words, Your Majesty," she said, pulling her hand back. "But I must remind you that our relationship is strictly professional. I am here to serve the royal family, not to engage in…lewd behavior."

The king's expression fell slightly, but he quickly recovered with a charming smile. "Of course, Aurelia," he said, his tone light and playful. "I understand completely. I am lucky to have you taking care of my children."

Aurelia felt a sense of relief wash over her as the tension dissipated. She knew that she had made the right decision in setting boundaries.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

It is a cold that means the end. A simple cold.

She doesn’t know who’s the first one to get it, but she first sees a maid with a runny noise and bars her from the nursery. Then, she sees Rhaenyra has a slight cough and has to ask her to stop visiting her siblings until it passes.

She takes over most of the duties in the nursery, restricting entry mainly to the wet-nurses and some of the maids who clean. However, she forgets that one can still pass on a disease without having symptoms. 

Aurelia puts the children to bed with a song and cuddles, as she always does. When she enters the nursery the following day, they’re both coughing and Baelon is burning up.

She does what she can, but is clear enough she’s fighting a losing battle. A poultice made from cracked dragon egg shells and powdered hawthorne has Danae being her happy self within a few hours, but Baelon only gets worse.

By the third day, he rejects the breast of his wet-nurse and she knows the battle is lost and so she calls for the King. 

They sit on either side of his cradle, listening to each of his breaths, both refusing to speak. The babe’s breaths are coming in shorter intervals now, more gasps than actual breaths and both know the end is near.

Tears welling her eyelids, Aurelia reaches into the cradle, laying her hand gently on the tiny, straining chest.

"It’s all right, sweetheart," she whispers, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat. "It’s all right. You can go. Go and meet your mother."

She leans down and takes the babe in her arms, cradling him gently against her breast before passing him into a surprised Viserys.

Then, she starts singing an old ballad from the conquest. It is not overtly long, but by the time she stops singing, Baelon’s gasps and splutters have ceased.

Aurelia counts the seconds: ten… twenty... thirty…

She lets out a sob.

Chapter Text

July 108AC

As they strolled through the gardens of the palace, Aurelia couldn't help but feel the weight of her duties on her. Danae was inconsolable these days and she no longer knew what to do, yet as she looked over at Jamie, she couldn't help but feel a spark of desire. 

It had been too long since they spent time alone. Her duties at the nursery consumed most of her time and if not, then the Princesses wished for her company. And Jamie was training more than ever, in preparation for the day he would ask the King to become Danae’s shield. 

As they reached a secluded spot in the garden, Aurelia felt a flutter in her chest as Jamie took her hand, leading her towards a nearby tree. Her heart was racing as he pulled her behind the tree, pressing her against the rough bark.

"I can't resist you any longer," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "You're always on my mind, Aurelia."

Aurelia felt a thrill run through her as he leaned in to kiss her, his lips soft and insistent. She responded eagerly, even as she tried to push aside the nagging thought of her responsibilities. She could be selfish for a moment.

Jamie's hands roamed over her body, tracing the curve of her waist and pulling her closer to him. Aurelia felt a thrill run through her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, her body melting into his embrace.

She pushed herself away from the tree, pressing her body against Jamie's and deepening the kiss with a hunger that had been building between them for weeks. He slid his hands into her bodice and grappled for her nipples. When he found them, he teased them with light pinches. She let out a long, soft moan and he grunted in response, pressing harder against her, his solid groin bumping against her leg. She moaned again, feeling his length against her.

Jamie responded eagerly, his hands trailing down to her hips and pulling her even closer. Aurelia felt a moan escape her lips as their bodies melted together. For a while, they lost themselves in the heat of the moment, lost in the passion that had been building between them for weeks. But as they finally pulled away, Aurelia couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

"Jamie, we can't keep doing this," she murmured, even as her body begged for more.

"I know," he sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But I can't help myself when I'm with you."

Aurelia knew that he was right. They both had their duties to attend to, and their illicit encounters could jeopardize everything they had. But as she looked into Jamie's eyes, she couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for more.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

When she was on her way to Princess Viserra’s chambers, she stumbled upon Alicent. Though, she wouldn’t have expected to see her slipping out the King’s chambers.

"Alicent?" The auburn-haired girl turned to face her.

“Aurelia,” she sounded tense like she had just been caught doing something shameful.

In fact, she reminded her of an animal that was prey in a hunt, prey surrounded by hunters. She looked ready to escape, looking around to see any way out. And, Aurelia noticed her bloodied cuticles, having been bitten raw. 

"Were you in the King's chambers just now?"

Alicent looked like a cage bird. “How is Princess Danae?”

“She’s… she’s healthy,” Aurelia sighed knowing that was all she could say. The poor thing was crying her heart out, no doubt feeling as if something was missing and not knowing what. She was too young to realize she’d had a twin brother, that her brother had died.

But she didn’t fail to notice that Alicent had evaded her question.

Just as her friend started walking away, Aurelia reached out to grab her elbow, holding her back. “Alicent, is everything alright?" 

Alicent opened her mouth, though nothing came out. "Why were you in the King's chambers?"

Just when Alicent looked like she was about to say something, at the mention of what she had been previously doing in the King's chambers, she sealed herself off like a treasure chest. "You would not understand!" 

With her words, she tore her arm free from Aurelia’s grip before starting to walk away.

"What are you talking about, Alicent? I always understand!"

Just then, one of the knights of the Kingsguard walked up to her. "Pardon me, Princess, but your presence is requested in the nursery. The maids need your help with the Princess.”

"Wait!" She snapped, turning back to face Alicent, only to find the girl already scurrying away like a scared mouse. “Alicent!” 

She sighed as Alicent continued walking away, allowing the knight to escort her to the nursery.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia made her way to Princess Viserra's chambers after laying Danae down for her nap, feeling a sense of relief when she was granted an audience. She didn't waste any time in voicing her concerns, telling Viserra what she had seen and everything she suspected. Seeing Alicent slipping out of the king’s chambers had been worrying and if it had been Otto Hightower’s work…

Viserra listened intently, her expression grave. "I had no idea," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I fear that Alicent might be a pawn in a larger game," Aurelia said, amber eyes blazing with determination. "Her father is ambitious. What if he's using her so the king will choose her as his queen when he has to remarry?”

"It’s possible," Viserra said, her voice filled with concern. "I can’t believe we’ve all been so blind. We cannot let that happen."

"I agree," Aurelia said, her voice firm. "We need to act fast, before any more damage is done. We need to find out the truth about what's going on, and we need to make sure that Danae can’t become collateral damage."

Viserra nodded, her expression serious. “I will go to Driftmark. It’s time for the Velaryons to return to court.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia had awoken in the middle of the night due to Danae’s cries. She’d recently moved Danae’s crib to her rooms so she’d be closer in case the babe needed her throughout the night.

She pulled her sheets off her body, rubbing her tired eyes, and walked towards the crib, finding the red-faced babe curled around her dragon egg, whimpering. 

"What is wrong, little hatchling?” She asked, lifting the babe out of her crib and into her arms. Danae buried her face into Aurelia's neck and began to cry even louder. "Do not cry sweetheart. I am here." She started rubbing the infants back and went back to her bed as she started singing. 

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

Aurelia noticed that Danae had stopped crying and was now yawning as she laid her head against Aurelia's breast, her steady heartbeat and the melody of the song lulling her to sleep.

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

At this part of the song, tears began to cascade down Aurelia's cheeks. This was one of the songs her mother had sang to her and Morgan in their childhood. It had been years since she’d heart it or sang it, yet it came as naturally as breathing. 

Yes, she will sing to those who'll hear

And in her song, all magic flows

But can you brave what you most fear?

Can you face what the river knows?

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a mother full of memory

Come, my darling, homeward bound

When all is lost, then all is found

The song ended, Aurelia breathing heavily. Silent sobs began to rack her body. She looked down to see that Danae was asleep in her arms and cradled the baby to her chest as she slipped back into her bed.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

“Come, Laena,” her mother said as she opened the doors of her rooms. “Your father and I have to discuss something with you.”

“Alright,” she answered, walking over to the door and taking her mother’s hand.

“What about me?” Laenor asked.

“Why don’t you see if you can go spar with Joffrey, darling?” Her mother suggested as they left.

They passed through the maze that was her home, with many doors, corridors and stairs. A maze that Laena knew well, as did her brother. They’d spent their childhood between High Tide and the Red Keep, and it was almost a rite of passage for Targaryen children to know how to escape their caretakers, to know the secret passages that were so obvious if one simply knew where to look. As such, she knew where they were heading, without being told. She could traverse this hallways blindfolded. 

“What is going on?”

Her mother pressed her lips into a thin line. “Do you remember me telling you about how my grandparents considered marrying me and Viserys?”

Laena swallowed. She knew what that meant. 

The large doors were opened by some guards, after which the Driftwood Throne came into vision. Her father was seated upon it, though he stood up and walked towards them as soon as they entered the room.

As they kept getting closer, Laena averted her eyes to not have to meet her father’s proud gaze. She was beyond nervous. 

“Laena,” a voice she recognized called out and she turned, seeing Aunt Viserra walking towards them. She let go of her mother’s hand and walked to her, embracing her.

“Velma,” she greeted. “When did you arrive?”

“Oh, a few hours ago, I’m afraid I’m heading back today as well.”

“So what happens next?” She asked softly, looking at the three adults in the room.

“Queen Aemma is gone,” her father said. “And that leaves a vacuum at court. A vacuum that some lords are trying to exploit.”

“The last time there was a non-Valyrian queen, it was with Maegor,” her mother continued. “It can’t happen again.”

Her father then came closer to her and took her hands in his. “I know you will be a great Queen. You’ll make me, your mother, your brother and our House incredibly proud. I’m sure of it.”

“What if I’m not good enough?”

“Listen to me, Laena,” her mother said firmly. “You are gorgeous. You are smart. You are fierce. If his Grace will not come to love you, he is the greatest fool alive.” She then proceeded to hug Laena. Her mother was right. She could do this.

Chapter Text

September 108 AC

The sight before him was possibly the most beautiful Jamie had ever seen, the only way it could be improved was if the babe next to Aurelia was one of their own.

Aurelia was asleep on her large bed, her long dark hair falling around her peaceful face. Danae was sleeping as well, snuggled against her slightly exposed chest, Aurelia’s hand laid protectively on her back. 

When Jamie had first entered Aurelia's rooms and found them to be empty, he had very much wanted to find her maids and throttle them. She was a Princess for gods' sake. Her safety was important, she shouldn’t be left alone. After entering her chambers and seeing her cuddled with Danae, he could understand why they’d been left alone, but he was still going to have a word with her guards.

He was reluctant to make a move not wanting to disturb her, but not wanting to leave them in anyway, he had no business to attend to today. He had already trained and he’d looked for Aurelia hoping they would be able to go on a walk, but he doubted that would happen now. He knew Danae had been difficult these past few weeks and only now was he starting to understand how difficult she’d been. Aurelia rarely, if ever, took naps but here she was, sleeping in the middle of the day. 

"Aurelia," he murmured quietly not wanting to startle her. "Sweetheart."

Aurelia stirred awake slowly seeming quiet dazed and confused when her eyes opened fully."Jamie," she yawned with shock, before modestly trying to cover up her exposed form, as if he hadn't seen it countless times already.

"It's nothing I have not seen before," Jamie said with a laugh, but she continued the process of pulling her dress back over her arms anyway, however she did so with a small smile on her lips.

"Is something the matter, Jamie?" Aurelia questioned, as she always did when he visited her unexpectedly.

"Can a man not simply wish to see his lady love?" Jamie teased, enjoying the look of happiness that washed over her face.

Aurelia made no response to him, other than her smile, for Danae had just begun to cry beside her. "Shhh my sweet hatchling," Aurelia cooed gently.

Gods, now he was thinking of her soothing their own child. It was an impossible dream, but one he clung to nonetheless. He climbed into the bed beside her and wrapped his arm around her, their fingers touching.

Aurelia placed one hand in Jamie's hair and pulled his face down to meet hers. The kiss was deep and passionate, deepening as time went on, neither willing to let the other go.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"It’s only been half a year since my mother died, and already the try to marry my father off and replace me as heir," Rhaenyra says softly as the three of them make their way through the Sept, an expression of displeasure on her face. "I know those men and how they plot in their secret council when I’ve been sent away."

"You cannot worry at the matters of lords and kings, Rhaenyra. What if your father were to remarry?" Alicent replies, pausing for a moment as she grabs one of the matches, turning to the array of candles.

Aurelia doesn’t speak. Her mother has been dead for years, but her father has chosen to remain unmarried. He is a second son, after all. The Swanns are powerful and she knows her father has received offers from minor lords for them to marry their daughters, but he has chosen to remain unmarried. With a son and a daughter almost grown and her uncle Gareth having two sons of his own, there is no need for him to remarry if he does not wish to. And with Stonehelm’s succession secure, she knows her uncles will not pressure him into another marriage.

Rhaenyra looks away in the silence. 

"Your father loves you," Alicent adds. "He chose you for his heir."

"He didn’t choose me. He spurned Daemon," Rhaenyra replies, a sharpness to her tone.

Aurelia frowns, tearing her gaze from the flickering fire of the candles in front of her. She much prefers worshipping the gods in nature to the silence of the Sept and barely comes here, more often than not, dragged by Alicent. 

She looks at Rhaenyra with a determined expression. "You will be a great queen, Rhaenyra. You just have to prove it to those old men."

Rhaenyra’s lavender eyes turn to her and there is so much emotion in her gaze that the part of Aurelia that is still Cressida wants nothing more than to take her into her arms and never let her go.

They stare at each other in silence as Alicent kneels down in front of the candles, lighting one and blowing the flame on the match out before she folds her fingers together. She turns to them. "Kneel with me." 

Aurelia stiffens for a moment before she steps forward and sinks to her knees, a part of her wondering if her gods would hear her, if they would grant her prayers, when she is in a place to worship others. 

"I find this is a way to be with my mother," Alicent tells Rhaenyra then. "Here, in the quiet of the Sept, I feel close to her — I know it sounds foolish."

"I don’t think it’s foolish," Rhaenyra replies, a weight on her tone. She shakes her head. "I don’t. " 

Alicent sends Rhaenyra a soft smile. "Good. Because I thought you might try."

"I…"

"If not for me, then, perhaps for them," she offers Rhaenyra the match.

"Think of your mother and Baelon," Aurelia murmurs. 

Rhaenyra takes in a deep breath and turns back to the candles, lighting the match with one of their flames before she blows it out and awkwardly folds her fingers together.

She gives Alicent a side-look. "What do I say?" 

Aurelia looked up at the face of the Mother above them. "Whatever you wish, Rhaenyra," she answered softly. "It’s not that different from praying in the godswood. You can pray for what you wish for, in the end, it’s only for you and the gods to know."

Rhaenyra nods slowly, turning back to the flames, staring at them for a moment, blinking rapidly.

She lets out a sob, covering her face in her hands before looking up again. "I want him to see me as more than this little girl." 

Aurelia wonders if that isn’t a wish all daughters share. If a part of them all doesn’t wish for their fathers to look at them and see the women they’re becoming, the women they are instead of being stuck in the past — instead of forever seeing the little girls with side braids and a gap between their teeth.

"Mine own father does not know the language of girls, either." Alicent says, looking at Rhaenyra. "When I wish to talk with him, I know that I must make the effort."

Rhaenyra’s throat bobs. "Thank you."

And while they’re comforting Rhaenyra, Alicent is watching Rhaenyra as Rhaenyra watches the flames. And Aurelia is watching Alicent.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

It was strange to think about it — her father marrying Laena. She understood the politics behind it. To a certain degree, she understood why her father had to remarry and she knew why Laena was the best candidate. She had Valyrian blood, her father was one of the richest men in Westeros… and, she would not raise her children to present a challenge for the throne. 

Yet, she wondered why they could not wait. Why couldn’t they at least celebrate Danae’s first nameday before her father married again? Why was it so urgent for her father to remarry now, when he had two healthy daughters?

She’d been named her father’s heir, she was now the Princess of Dragonstone. She could only imagine that the lords were urging her father to remarry because they wanted him to have another son. A son who would live longer than Baelon, who would grow up to take the throne when the time came. 

She was her father’s heir and he would have no other. He would not name any son of Laena’s as heir above her. 

But it was strange to think that she was sitting with her future stepmother as the five of them made their way back to the Red Keep.

"Has Rhaenyra managed to get you on a dragon?" Laena asked Alicent. 

"No," Rhaenyra’s friend replied. "And she never will. I prefer to have my feet firmly planted upon the ground."

"It’s actually quite thrilling," Aurelia jumped into the conversation. "Rhaenyra has taken me on Syrax a few times and it is wonderful to see the world from such a perspective."

"I have tried to convince Alicent to come with me on Syrax," Rhaenyra said. "But she refuses to even contemplate it."

"If man were meant to fly, the gods would have granted us wings," Alicent stated firmly. 

Laena rolled her eyes and Rhaenyra smiled. She supposed she might be able to continue her friendship with Laena. Nothing really had to change. Danae would likely grow up thinking of Laena as her mother, but Rhaenyra would keep the memory of Aemma Arryn alive. She’d ensure her sister knew the woman who gave her life so she could live. And, her father was still in love with her mother. Perhaps he would wait to consummate the marriage.

Yes, nothing needed to change.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Rhaenyra watched as Laena and her father toured the gardens of the Keep, her shoulder brushing against Rhaenys'. 

"Does it bother you that Laena will marry my father, Velma?" She asked her aunt. 

"As much as it bothers you " Rhaenys replied, brushing dark hair away from her face. She had inherited her mother's Baratheon black hair, though now it had several streaks of silver in it. More Baratheon than Targaryen had been the words whispered about her at court. She'd hoped wedding Corlys would quiet the snide comments, the dismissal, and the questions of her worth to take the crown. "No parent is ready to see their child grown and wed; and my grandson, if Laena is blessed with one, may very well be used to usurp you one day." 

"Yes," she whispered, gripping the stone ledge in front of her. "I wish my father and his council would take me more seriously. If I were a man, they would." 

"The lords of Westeros would sooner put the realm to the torch than let a woman ascend the Iron Throne," Rhaenys said, turning to face her. "Because that has been the order of things for a long time." 

Rhaenyra met Rhaenys' violet eyes. "When I am queen I will create a new order." 

Rhaenys smiled, reaching out to stroke Rhaenyra's cheek. "I know you will… and, I will be there, every step of the way."

Rhaenyra leaned into her aunt's embrace, squeezing her eyes shut so she did not cry; she had cried enough these past six moons. After a moment to collect herself with Rhaenys stroking her hair, she straightened and set her jaw. 

"I will make them take me seriously. I do not know how, but I will," she said, determined. 

"I believe that if anyone can accomplish changing things, it is you," Rhaenys murmured. 

A servant hurried over and curtseyed. "Apologies, Your Highnesses. The small council is convening and Princess Rhaenyra has been asked for." 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia sat on the floor of the nursery, her eyes fixed on Danae. The baby had been trying to crawl for days now, but so far had only managed to wriggle and squirm around on her belly.

But today was different.

As Aurelia watched, Danae pushed up onto her hands and knees, her eyes focused on a stuffed toy just out of reach. With a determined look on her face, she rocked back and forth, gathering her strength.

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, she launched herself forward.

Aurelia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise.

Danae let out a delighted squeal, her chubby little arms and legs propelling her forward. Aurelia watched in amazement, feeling a sense of pride and joy fill her heart. 

After a few weeks of trying, the baby had finally mastered the skill.

"Look at you, little hatchling!" Aurelia exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement. "You're crawling! You're doing it!"

Danae beamed up at Aurelia, her light purple eyes sparkling with joy. She seemed to know that she had accomplished something special, and she basked in Aurelia's attention and affection.

Aurelia scooped the baby up into her arms, hugging her tightly. "I'm so proud of you, little hatchling," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead. "You're growing up so fast."

There's a knock at the door and Jamie pops his head in. "The Princess Rhaenyra is here."

With a nod, the door opens wider and Rhaenyra steps inside, closing the door behind her and Jamie. 

"Hello Rhaenyra," she smiles. "Your sister just crawled for the first time."

"That’s… that’s amazing," Rhaenyra says absently. It’s obvious she has something on her mind. 

"What’s wrong?"

The quick glance Rhaenyra sends Jamie is a message on its own. "You can speak in front of Jamie. You know he would never betray you."

Rhaenyra takes in a breath before she nods, turning back to Aurelia. "I need your help." She announces and reaches out to take Aurelia's hands in hers and she shifts, to accommodate Danae better with just one arm.

Aurelia's head tilts a little. "Alright," she says slowly. "With what?"

Rhaenyra's jaw tenses a little and she doesn't speak for a moment, before, eventually. "Daemon stole Baelon’s egg from the Dragonpit."

It's all it takes —  just one sentence — and Aurelia is filled with rage.

"Alright," she says again, making sure to keep her face blank.

"Father has ordered a group of knights and dragon keepers, led by Ser Otto, to depart to Dragonstone at first light, so they may retrieve the egg," she lets Danae grab one of her fingers. "It'd end in catastrophe and bloodshed if they were to go alone." Rhaenyra takes in a breath. "So I need you to back up my story when I go to intervene tomorrow." One of Aurelia's eyebrows draws up in a silent question and Rhaenyra sighs softly. "Father would never allow me to go if I asked, so I will not give him a chance to forbid me to go before I do. But I might need you to buy me time if they realize I've disappeared too quickly."

Jamie looks at her unbelievingly. "So you need Princess Aurelia to lie to your father for you, if the occasion arises, Princess?"

Aurelia gives him a dark look — full of sharp edges and warning. 

Rhaenyra grimaces. "I— I don't want to... but—" she turns back to Aurelia. "I would never ask you to commit treason for me." 

There's a sort of seriousness in Rhaenyra's eyes, desperately imploring her to believe her. And, without hesitation, Aurelia does. Rhaenyra may detest duty, but she knows that not everyone has the same freedoms she does. For her to ask this, it’s because she truly sees no other way.

Aurelia smiles at her. "You don't have to ask me, Rhaenyra. Of course I'll do it."

Chapter Text

Aurelia was surprised when Princess Rhaenys entered her chambers as she was meeting with a merchant. She needed new dresses and Danae grew quickly, so she would also need to commission new clothes for her, so she didn’t only wear hand-me-downs from previous Princesses.

With her authority, Princess Rhaenys waved the merchants away, but ordered that he leave the fabric and sketches there as she spoke with Aurelia. The man did as the Targaryen princess bid and so, Aurelia was left with the Queen Who Never Was. 

Princess Rhaenys sighed and sat as Aurelia remained standing next to the fabrics.

"Would you like me to send for some refreshments, Your Highness?"

"I would," the older Princess said with a sigh, punching the bridge of her nose. 

Aurelia began to step down from the pedestal but the older woman held up her hand and Aurelia froze. "I have already sent the servants. There is no need for you to do so. Sit down, I am in no mood to look up at you."

Aurelia quickly did as she was told and sat upon one of her seats, placing her hands nervously on her knees. "Is there something I can help you with, Your Highness?"

Princess Rhaenys hummed. "I wished to thank you," her confusion must have shown, because the princess elaborated. "For letting my aunt know of what had been happening between my cousin and the Hand’s daughter."

Aurelia blushed, embarrassed. "I was worried for Alicent."

The princess waved her comment away. "Don’t diminish yourself," she admonished. "Viserra told me what you said, how you deduced what Otto’s plans were. If not for you, then we would have had him as the father to a Queen. Thanks to your quick thinking, we were able to lead Viserys down a more sensible path."

Aurelia smiled briefly, before she went to open the door and took the tray with their cakes and tea.

"Now, I do hope you’re being careful."

"Your Highness?" Aurelia asked as she nibbled on a lemon cake. They were not her favorite, unlike Rhaenyra who adored them, but there was something delicious about the mix between the sugar of the crust and the sourness of the fruit.

"With your knight. Well, Aemma’s knight. Now Danae’s."

Jamie. The Princess must have seen them, even if they had been careful.

"I’m not sure what you mean, Your Highness."

"I see you how you look at each other, so spare me the innocent act," Rhaenys waved her off. "I just hope you’re being careful to avoid any unnecessary complications."

"We haven’t…"

"And I don’t mean moon tea," Rhaenys continued, as if she had never spoken.

"Not moon tea?" Now, she was intrigued. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"My mother told me that only women seeking to never have children would use moon tea. It’s too violent on the womb if used too often."

"Is there some other way to prevent a child? Apart from abstinence?"

"There were ways women used before the Citadel was established. In Valyria, we crushed some flowers with a pestle and then made it into a tea. That’s why Aenar brought some flowers and animals with him before the Doom. They still grow on Dragonstone. Apparently, the First Men did something similar with flowers that grew around the weirwoods." 

Aurelia nodded. It might be good to remember it for the future.

"My lady," she extended her hand. "Though I appreciate your concern and the knowledge you have extended, I feel that I must say I am still a maiden. We haven’t…I haven’t allowed things to go so far."

Rhaenys nodded, a glint in her eye.

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"I have come looking for an unencumbered opinion."

Lord Lyonel Strong sat before the king, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. "That’s all I would ever give, Your Grace."

Viserys nodded. He knew this, which was exactly why he was there. Lyonel was one of the few men in the Small Council who would give him an unbiased opinion. And he desperately needed one. He knew what he wanted to do and he knew what he should do. He needed someone to be honest with him, who expressed an opinion thinking of the realm and not his own bias.

"Ever since my name was read by the Archmaesters at the Great Council, I have felt Corlys Velaryon’s envious gaze staring at me from across the Blackwater."

"You sit upon the highest seat in the realm, Your Grace," Lord Strong said. He had clearly been expecting this to be the topic of conversation, for he had merely answered him without a hint of surprise. "Proud men don’t like having to look up."

"Laena Velaryon," Viserys said, unable to say more. The thought of marrying at all had him uncomfortable, but the idea of marrying a girl he had held as a babe made him sick.

"Lord Corlys is your Master of Ships, and she is the eldest daughter of the wealthiest House in the realm," Lord Strong pointed out. He looked at the goblet sitting before him, although he didn’t move to drink it. "She comes from unimpeachable Velaryon stock, and she has Targaryen blood. What’s to mislike?"

Viserys chuckled at that, trying to reason how this had become his life, begging the gods to give him some other alternative. "She is a child."

"She recently turned six and ten," Lord Strong said, he shrugged before continuing. "But if it makes you too uncomfortable, because of her being so close kin, there are other alternatives. Aurelia Martell, for example. She is the only daughter of the late Princess of Dorne and her father is from one of the Stormlands’ most powerful houses. And, diluted though it may be, she has Valyrian blood through her Baratheon grandmother, who was a granddaughter of Orys and Argella."

Aurelia would be an excellent wife one day. With how she cared for Danae, she had already proved she’d be an excellent mother. But she’d rejected his advances once before. How could he know he wouldn’t be trapping her in a loveless, unhappy marriage?

His wine churned in his gut. "I never asked to remarry."

"As king, you have claim on all things. Even those you do not want," Lord Strong said. Although he spoke unabashedly, he had an empathy about him unique to others on the Small Council. "Marriage is not an obligation you can put off for long."

"What if I was to reject Lord Corlys’s proposal?"

"He not be like to take it well. I fear nothing short of a direct line to the Iron Throne would satisfy him, but choosing a wife of good breeding could prevent him from feeling slighted unjustly." Lord Strong swallowed loudly. He had that look on his face that promised Viserys wouldn’t like what he had to say. "However… you should also consider that we find ourselves on the precipice of war in the Stepstones, and the Sea Snake holds the claim to nearly half of the realm’s ships."

Viserys wondered how different his life would be if he had been born a warrior. He could fight if he needed to, but he was no Spring Prince. The warrior had always been Daemon. 

"He would not dare withhold them in the face of the realm’s need. Who is he to hector me?"

"No one, Your Grace, but Driftmark makes for a better ally than it does an enemy. The Sea Snake has made a calculated reach, a fair play for a man of his position. If you truly want my unencumbered opinion…"

Did he?

"I do."

"You should wed Laena Velaryon, Your Grace," Lord Strong said. Even as he gave him a sympathetic shrug, it was clear he meant what he said, for he drove his point home by continuing unabashedly. "Sate Lord Corlys, and fix him at your side permanently as an ally."

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"The king has called for a meeting to make an announcement," her father said as he entered their apartments, Aunt Viserra and Princess Aurelia behind him.

Laena rushed off to her rooms, her aunt, mother and friend behind her. Aurelia immediately went to her dresses, settling on a turquoise one that would highlight her curves and small breasts. Aunt Viserra twisted her curls into a braid that went through the crown of her head before sitting over her shoulder, small pearls woven throughout. 

"You look beautiful, my dear," her mother said, looking her over and making sure everything was perfect. 

"I cannot believe that this is real," Laena said. "I…I truly didn’t think the King would agree, I thought he’d remain a widower, raising little Danae and preparing Rhaenyra for the throne."

Her mother smiled and cupped her face in her hands. "You will be the queen I was never allowed to be," she said. "You shall be Queen Laena of the Seven Kingdoms."

"King Viserys has been facing pressure to choose a new wife for a few weeks now," Aurelia spoke as she handed her a new pair of earrings. "You are the natural choice as a wife."

Laena kissed her mother’s cheek. "I will make you proud, Muña."

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"Good morrow, my lords," her father said from his place at the window of the small council room. The entire council had gathered with a few more people in attendance, waiting for the decision of their king. 

Behind Lord Corlys were Princess Rhaenys and her cousins. They were all dressed in Velaryon colors, with Laena’s dress being more lavish than what she usually wore. Good. She was preparing for her role as Queen already. That was good. 

This brought Rhaenyra’s attention to the one person she could not understand being in the small council chamber. 

Alicent stood beside Ser Otto, eyes darting between Rhaenyra’s father and the Velaryons. Her friend was fidgeting and her eyes refused to come anywhere close to Rhaenyra. 

Something was wrong. 

Rhaenyra’s father approached the small council table in deep contemplation. "I have decided to take a new wife," he looked to Rhaenyra and she gave him an encouraging smile and nodded. She knew this is what he had to do as King of the Seven Kingdoms. In this moment he was not simply her father, but the King. 

She saw as Laena lifted her chin and prepared to step forward. "I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before spring’s end."

Rhaenyra stood frozen. She doesn’t know how she remains standing as she looks at the Velaryons, before they all turn to look at Alicent.

Alicent, who her father has chosen to marry. Alicent, who looks like she wishes to dissolve into nothingness.

"This is an absurdity!" Lord Corlys’s voice booms in the room as he storms to the center of the room to face the king. "My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm—"

"And I am your king!" Her father thunders. It is the first time he has ever raised his voice.

It occurs to Rhaenyra then that this is not a decision taken in the spur of the moment. The only reason her father would have rejected such a powerful and sensible match… is if he and Alicent were already…

Rhaenyra’s eyes burn as she turns away from her friend. Her trusted companion. The one she considered a sister. 

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The door opened to reveal a red-eyed princess with tear tracks on her cheeks. She hurried inside and rushed forward to crush her in an embrace.

Aurelia’s arms immediately came up to return the hug, and Rhaenyra shattered in her arms. She wailed and mumbled nonsense until Aurelia’s dress was soaked with her tears and snot.

For what felt like hours, Aurelia just held her and allowed her to let out all her emotions. Sometimes, that was all one needed.

"Rhaenyra?"

When Rhaenyra looks up at her, her eyes are red, tears simmering in them. She sniffs a little before she speaks. 

"My – my father," Rhaenyra croaked. She cleared her throat and pulled back, wiping away her tears with harsh strokes until her entire face was red. "He’s announced his new wife."

It’s been merely six moons since Queen Aemma died. Even if Rhaenyra had acknowledged that it was inevitable for her father to marry again, Aurelia didn’t understand why it was bothering her now.

"Well, I understand why this would upset you greatly," she says slowly. "But we knew he would have to, sooner rather than later."

Rhaenyra's throat bobs and for a long moment, she stares at the window before she looks back at Aurelia, grief and loss clear as day in her eyes. "It's Alicent."

The words gave Aurelia pause, the truth of Rhaenyra’s frustrations coming to light at last. Of course, she’d be frustrated with the King deciding to marry her best friend. Because, despite their closeness, that was what Alicent was. She was close to them both, but their friendship had been established long before she’d come to the Red Keep and she’d contented herself with orbiting on the edge of her friendship. Her duties had kept her tied to Queen Aemma and Princess Viserra previously and now they kept her in the nursery, with Danae. 

"Rhaenyra, I’m certain if you spoke to Alicent…"

"I don’t want to talk to her," Rhaenyra spat, recoiling as Aurelia tried to offer a comforting hand. "She’s meant to be my best friend, and now she’s going to be my stepmother "

"Do you truly believe this was Alicent’s choice?" Aurelia demanded, the words coming out more harshly than she had intended. 

"I don’t know." Rhaenyra wiped at her face with her palms. "She’s still doing it, though."

"Alicent couldn’t refuse," Aurelia eased herself to her feet, planting her hands on her hips. "You don’t refuse the king. If the King had asked me to marry him, I would have no other choice to accept. My family would have seen it as an honor. I am thankful that I am not Alicent."

Aurelia squashed down her frustration, taking a deep breath. Rhaenyra did not understand the position other women were in. As the King’s firstborn and precious child, she had more freedom than others. Women married where they were told, even in Dorne. This betrothal to Viserys was what Aurelia dreaded: a marriage where she had no choice but quiet acceptance — a marriage where she had no voice, no agency, where she was reduced to the worth of her womb, where her own worth was based on hoe fertile and meek she could be.

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Rhaenyra turned her head as she heard footsteps, cursing herself for going into the godswood. She did not wish to speak to Alicent, not now and perhaps not ever again. Not after how she had betrayed her.

"Rhaenyra," Alicent begged, her voice cracking, stumbling forward as if her own feet betrayed her. "Please. Please, may we talk? Might you listen?"

"You will call me by my proper title," Rhaenyra snapped. "You have grown too familiar. And for the moment, I still outrank you."

"Princess," her once-friend whispered. "Please, might we talk?"

"And what is there to discuss?" Rhaenyra demanded. "What shall I speak of, save your betrayal?"

"I did not know, Rhaenyra," Alicent pleaded. "I did not know the king's plans."

"Please," Rhaenyra said, turning away and crossing her arms. "You cannot expect that I would remain blind forever. Blind to your heart and ambition."

"I did not want this, Rhaenyra," Alicent cried, the tears pricking painfully at her eyes. "I did not want this."

"I am not blind, nor am I deaf," Rhaenyra snapped once again. "I heard the whispers through the court, scullery maids and servants whispered of how you visited my father at night, but I dismissed them as vicious drivel, for you would never do such a thing. But you did, didn’t you?"

Alicent nodded mutely, looking down. "My father — My father told me to go and look after him, Rhaenyra, what else could I do?"

As Rhaenyra sees the redhead start picking at her nails, she softens and with a few strides, she separates the older girl’s hands. 

"Had you only informed me of what you were doing, Alicent, I would have—"

"Would have, what?" Alicent demands, eyes flashing. "Would you have convinced my father to stop sending me to the king?"

Rhaenyra clenches her hands into fists, taking a step back. "Yes," she growls. "I would have. I would have sent him back to the hole he crawled out of—"

"He is my father, Rhaenyra!" Alicent thunders.

"He is a leech!" Rhaenyra fires back, anger blinding her. "But you knew that, and you obeyed him anyway. Did he also tell you to keep me in the dark or was that your choice?"

"It was your father's choice," Alicent seethes. "You call mine a leech. What do you call yours?"

Rhaenyra grits her teeth, her heart pounding in a frenzy. "I call him King of the Seven Kingdoms," she bites out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But I called you a friend, you backstabbing, fucking cunt of a woman who does not even have the minimum decency to apologize to me! You were my lady! Part of my household! I could have retained you if you didn't want to go to my father. I could have told him to dismiss you or tell you he didn't want your company. Did you think about that, Alicent? Did you ever think I could have helped you?" 

"Rhaenyra!" Alicent begged. "My father told me to go to him! I couldn’t refuse him! I have been your friend and your companion all my life, and now that I need you, you walk away from me."

"The woman I called my friend would have never crawled into my father’s rooms before my mother’s blood had been washed away," Rhaenyra bit out. "I thought you were different. But I see now you are just like everyone else in this goddamned castle. Always seeking more power and grasping at whatever opportunities may be opened."

"Rhaenyra, please! I was just doing my duty —"

"Your duty," Rhaenyra echoed. "Your duty was to betray me, your duty was to spit on my mother's memory. She, who was never anything but kind to you. Don't talk me about duty, Alicent Hightower."

She storms out of the godswood, and goes quickly to her rooms, wishing to be alone. As soon as the doors slammed shut behind her, she fell to her knees, a sob escaping her lips.

Chapter Text

January 109 AC

Rhaenyra brought her sister to the gardens with Aurelia, carrying Danae as she and Aurelia pointed at the flowers and taught Danae their colors. Ser Criston and Jamie followed behind them, supervising them, making sure they were safe. 

"Shall we go down to the beach?" Rhaenyra suggested to the group.

But Ser Criston had to shake his head. "Princess, I am not sure the beach is a safe place for the Princess Danae."

"It is fine, Ser Criston," she said. "We have you and Ser Jamie to protect us, right Aurelia?" Rhaenyra looked to her friend to back her.

Aurelia nodded "It has been a while since I went down to the beach, and the air would do good for the little princess."

See Criston nodded, not being able to say no to the two highborn ladies he served. Despite his status as a new member of the Kinsguard, he was still a guard in their service and they ranked above him — a steward’s son. And, so, Rhaenyra led the way to the small part of the beach that had a direct access from the Red Keep.

They walked down the stone steps that led to the rocky beaches of Blackwater Bay, and the shore was thankfully empty. The beach was shaded by tall cliffs of Aegon’s Hill and by the walls of King’s Landing. 

Aurelia opened her arms and Rhaenyra passed Danae to her, the girl immediately cuddling close as Rhaenyra took off her shoes. Carefully, Aurelia kicked off her own leather sandals and they walked to the edge of the water together.

Aurelia steeled herself before stepping into the water, letting out a sigh of relief when she felt the water had a lukewarm temperature, 

"This is her first time on the beach," she said as she passed the baby back to Rhaenyra. 

"She seems to like it," Rhaenyra remarked, crouching down so Danae’s chubby feet were splashed by the water. The little girl giggled at that. 

She picked up a small stone from under the water and gave it to Danae, who as soon as she was given the wet stone, started to put it in her mouth. Aurelia carefully took the stone away began to laugh. "Do not put that in your mouth, little hatchling."

"Princess," Jamie called from the beach. "Perhaps we should return to the castle, you mentioned you wish to go on a flight before sundown and time is running out."

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"I have a gift for you," said Edrick in the early morning. Janna stirred in the bed, rubbing her sleepy eyes and he sat beside her, stretching his arms forward to hand her the black box.

She sat up, a large smile stretching across her face and Edrick held himself back from embracing her. His lover gasped when she saw the glittering bracelet, biting her lower lip as she beamed.

"Happy nameday."

"It's beautiful!"

She placed the box on her lap, taking the bracelet between her fingers. "Oh, I love it, Edrick. Thank you!" She dropped it and jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He laughed, supporting her with an arm about her back and didn't hesitate to respond to her kiss when she pressed their mouths together. 

He cupped her face, pulling her closer. Janna was a cousin to the main Fossoway line, the daughter of the youngest of the late lord’s sons. She’d been fostered under her aunt’s care in Highgarden and they’d met when they were small, back when he’d first joined the roses to squire for Lord Matthos. It was only natural that they grew closer during their shared childhood in Highgarden, and that their closeness shifted as they grew older.

"You’re perfect," she murmured. Edrick shook his head.

"I’m not," he said. 

And he really wasn’t. Edrick wasn’t led by his cock as some other men were, he was not cruel as some of his ancestors, but he was not a good man. If he were a good man, he would never have dishonored Janna, or he might have married her after taking her maidenhead. If he were a good man, he would not have allowed Lord and Lady Tyrell to dream about their daughter marrying him. Janna was a good person, who didn’t deserve what he was doing to her. When they eventually parted ways as Edrick knew they would, he'd pay a hefty dowry for her husband.

At least, there had been no child yet. He didn’t know how he could ever explain having a bastard child to his mother. He knew she’d had enough difficulties dealing with his trueborn family in White Harbor — she’d be disappointed in him if he made his wife deal with a bastard. If he sullied his honor and insulted his wife by siring an illegitimate child.

Janna kissed him again, but Edrick had barely kissed her back when they heard a knock in the door. Respectful, but demanding, all at once. Edrick had scarcely sprung apart from Janna when the door opened and his steward stepped inside.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said. His face did not betray a single thought at the semi-naked woman in Edrick’s bed and instead focused his eyes on Edrick and only Edrick. "A messenger from King’s Landing arrived during the night."

"What news does he bring?" Edrick asked, standing up and wrapping his robe around his body as they walked to his antechamber.

"It’s the king, Ser Edrick," he said, voice formal. "He intends to remarry."

Edrick swore. "My aunt has not been dead a year," he shook his head, remembering his kind and caring aunt. Though she was his cousin truth, given that he was closer to Rhaenyra and the Velaryons in age, he’d always thought of her as an aunt. "Who has he chosen? My cousin, Laena Velaryon, I’d assume?"

The older man shook his head. "He chose the Hand’s daughter, Ser. Lady Alicent Hightower."

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Danae crawled towards Aurelia, her tiny hands gripping the edges of the woman's dress. "Muña," she said, looking up at her with big, bright lavender eyes.

Aurelia froze, taken aback by the sudden use of the endearing term. The Valyrian was a regular occurrence, given that Danae was mixing up Valyrian and Common as more words were introduced into her vocabulary, but she was not prepared for that word. Much less, for that word to be addressed to her. She loved the little girl, but she knew her place. She was her governess, her caretaker, a constant figure in her life. But she wasn’t her mother. She couldn’t accept being called Muña, not when to accept it would be a disrespect to Aemma’s memory.

She knelt down and smiled at the princess as she took her into her arms. "Oh, honey, I’m not your Muña," she said gently as Danae nuzzled into her. "But I love you just as she did."

The princess pouted and reached up to tug at her dark hair. "Muña," she insisted, bottom lip trembling.

Aurelia couldn't help but chuckle at the little girl's determination. "No, hatchling," she said, stroking the princess's hair. "I am your governess. Not your Muña."

Her little face scrunched up in confusion.

Aurelia cupped Danae’s cheek, looking into the princess's big, innocent eyes as an idea came into her mind. "I know it can be confusing, honey. Muña was a special name for your mother, the Queen, who is no longer with us. But you can call me whatever you like. How about 'Amma'?"

The little princess thought for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Amma!" She exclaimed, before giggling and throwing her arms around Aurelia’s neck.

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Alicent and her father sup together that night, and she broaches the subject of her upcoming marriage. Her father doesn’t have much to say. She’d done as he requested and the result is what he wished for. She would soon be shackled in marriage to a man closer to her father’s age than hers.

She wasn’t being fair, she knew that. But in her mind she deserved to have at least that freedom. King Viserys wasn’t the Targaryen man she would have liked. Prince Daemon was more handsome, more rugged, a maiden’s fantasy. When she was younger, she had wondered if perhaps they could not marry. He was the King’s brother and she was the Hand’s daughter, after all. A match would make sense.

But then she learned. She learned that Daemon had been married off unhappily when he was younger. That her father hated the man with a burning passion, that the hate between them was reciprocated. 

And, so she turned her attention to Lord Edrick. Princess Viserra’s son, a handsome Northerner who had a keep under construction in the Reach. He was handsome and closer to her age. Why couldn’t she marry him, after all? He’d need a wife with ties to the Reach (the old ties of his paternal family would not be enough). She was from the Reach, a good and kind and dutiful lady.

And, yet, she found herself betrothed to the King. 

Her father is quite eager to discuss the preparations for the wedding. He tells her of how the Hightower maiden cloak will be brought by the Hightowers when they come to the city and she tells him of the preparations for her dress. 

But then, the conversation shifts.

"How much did Septa Marlow teach you of the Great Council?"

"It was called by King Jaehaerys so the lords would choose the next monarch," Alicent says. "The lords chose King Viserys over Princess Rhaenys, even if Princess Rhaenys had a more direct line to the throne, since Prince Aemon was the eldest son"

Her father nods. "There is a little bit more to it than that. It wasn’t truly between King Viserys and Princess Rhaenys. The other claimant was Ser Laenor, then a child. And Laenor Velaryon had had an egg hatch in his cradle so he had a hatchling and a dragon riding mother, as well as his father’s fleet. The King once rode the Black Dread, but Balerion had died by the time of the Council. The only dragon rider the King had on his side was his brother, since Princess Rhaenyra was still too young. Now, Prince Daemon is allied with the Velaryons and he and Ser Laenor are both fighting in the Stepstones and Laena Velaryon claimed Vhagar — the last remaining dragon of the Conquest. King Viserys has no dragon for himself and no son, only two daughters."

"The lords already chose, Father," Alicent says, confused. 

"They chose, but many backed Daemon and now there is strife between the brothers. The king needs a son, Alicent. He needs a son to secure his throne."

"Rhaenyra is the heir," she insists.

"She will not be the heir when the king has a son. When you give him a son," her father argues and a bitter taste enters her mouth. 

"Rhaenyra will be a good queen."

"No lord will follow a woman when there is a male claimant available. Now, have you visited the nursery and Princess Danae as I instructed you?"

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The Stepstones are a chain of lifeless islands. They’re desert rocks of nothing but sand. They’re dry and mercilessly wiped by the wind. Their worth would be nothing if they weren’t one of the main shipping lanes of the Narrow Sea.

Daemon and Lord Corlys’ combined strengths face the Triarchy, led by a man called Craghas Drahar, a Myrish Prince better known as the Crab Feeder.

The first time Daemon sees the lines of men attached to pieces of wood to be slowly consumed by crabs and drowned by the tides, he was taken aback. They’d all heard the whispers of what was happening, of what Drahar enjoyed doing to his enemies, but it’s one thing to know it and another one to see it. He observes, darkly fascinated, as the blood leaves the faces of his soldiers, as some of them retch their insides at the sight. He knows those won’t last long in this war. The weak rarely do.

Daemon is not so shocked as some of the soldiers. Throughout his time in the Free Cities, he witnessed slaves being disciplined by their owners. He witnessed the beating and execution of men, some drawn and quartered, some crucified — an agonizing and slow death. He has witnessed courtesans being beaten by clients who took delight in their suffering and blood rather than their cunt or their body. He is well aware of the hatred and evil that exists in human beings. He is aware of what man is capable of.

War in the Stepstones is dirty, messy. They win a beach at dawn only to lose it at sunset. Their enemies are rats who hide in the caves of the sharp cliffs overlooking the beaches. Their enemy is a man who feeds men to crabs and no matter how intensely Caraxes’ fire burns, Daemon just can’t get to Drahar and his men. A dragon’s fire can’t penetrate the caves, so all he and Laenor can do is hope that their assistance in a battle will help minimize losses.

Their enemies crawl out of tunnels, sending archers to burn down the ships making their way across the straits, killing Daemon’s men from afar and hiding every time he comes to avenge them. They’re cowards, all of them. They don’t know how to fight with honor, but they do know how to survive, making the conflict longer and dirtier.

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Alicent approached the crib and smiled at the dozing princess inside. "Hello, Danae. It's so good to see you again," she leaned over the crib, hoping to get a closer look at the baby, see how much she’d grown since the last time she’d seen her. But the moment she got closer, Danae’s eyes snapped open, and she began to cry.

Alicent stepped back, surprised by the sudden outburst.

Aurelia quickly intervened, picking up the crying baby and cradling her in her arms. "It's alright, Alicent. Danae just needs to be comforted. It’s been a hard couple of days, with her teething."

Alicent nodded, but she still felt a bit embarrassed by the baby's reaction to her. "I understand. Hopefully, it’ll be a quick process."

Aurelia smiled sympathetically. "Yes, it can be quite a lot for a little one to take in. But I'm sure she'll warm up to you soon enough."

Alicent looked at the baby, her heart swelling with affection. She longed to hold the princess in her arms and shower her with love and attention. She’d always wanted to be a mother and while her future marriage to the King strained her relationship with Rhaenyra, there was no reason she couldn’t have a loving relationship with little Danae. "May I...may I hold her? I promise I'll be gentle."

Aurelia hesitated for a moment, then handed the baby over to Alicent. She took the baby carefully in her arms, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. She looked down at Danae and tried to make eye contact. "Hello there, little one. It's me, Alicent. Do you remember me?"

But Danae didn't seem interested in her. She squirmed and fussed, turning her head away from Alicent and reaching out for Aurelia, who was a much more familiar face to her.

Alicent felt a pang of disappointment, but she tried not to let it show. "It's alright, sweetling. I'm here for you. You can trust me. I’m your new Mama."

But the baby continued to fuss, and Alicent eventually handed her back to her friend, feeling defeated.

Chapter Text

Evergreen Cove, February 109 AC

To my dearest friend,

I'm happy to know that you are well and that my last letter found you easily. Your letters always bring me joy.

As you may know by now, Lord Matthos grows sicker in Highgarden. I think people expect me to take this chance and marry his daughter, his firstborn and say the Reach will follow the example of the Iron Throne — that as the heir to the realm is the firstborn child of the King, so should the succession be decided for the other keeps. But you can tell my mother not to fret — I have no intention of marrying the Lady Desmera. She may be beautiful, but she is vain and arrogant. She will have to content herself with the Arbor instead of the entirety of the Reach, I have no wish to usurp Ser Randyll. 

So, with all sorts of nobles coming to my gates and seeking an audience, with men trying to gamble away their daughters’ hand in marriage to a man of Targaryen blood, I find your letters to be a solace. The calm within the storm, you could say.

With the news of my uncle’s remarriage, I started wondering. While the Hightowers must be celebrating, I’d lie if I said it was the same here nearer to Highgarden. The Tyrells feel slighted — they are the Lords of the Reach and have a daughter of an appropriate age. Even if their great hope for the lady was to marry her to me, a King is a fine catch for any young woman. That the Hightowers reached so far, without even sending a letter to their lords prior to the announcement is troubling.

As I mentioned, this has led me to think. I have been inundated with marriage proposals ever since I took charge of the Cove. Yet, you are a Princess of Dorne and descended from one of the most powerful houses in the Stormlands, if not the most powerful after the Baratheons. You were a ward to my aunt and are known as a protégée of my mother and your position in the royal nursery only enhanced you in the eyes of many. All this I say, because many naturally wonder why your brother hasn’t arranged a marriage for you and why he delays it so. You are of the most eligible matches any lord could make and yet you have no intended.

If there is anything I may do to help in this matter, as your friend, please let me know,

Edrick Daerys, Lord of Evergreen Cove

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

March 109AC

Aurelia practically flew off her couch when she heard the gentle knock against the door of her rooms.

"I had to see you for just a moment," Jamie whispered, pulling her into a warm embrace as they pushed the door closed. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. "So much."

She let herself sink into his hold, the hard planes of his chest as familiar to her as the curves and dips of her body. Jamie pulled her into a long kiss, and his lips soon became more and more insistent against hers, hungrier than they had ever been before.

"I wish we didn't have to hide anymore," Aurelia said in between kisses.

It was a dangerous thought, and she knew it was foolish. Like she had made a vow to Aemma to watch over Danae, Jamie had made a vow to himself to do so as well. The only way for them to be together publicly would be to escape and live a life of anonymity, because as a second son, Jamie would never truly be considered for her hand.

"Tell me to stop," Jamie said suddenly, his hands slipping down her form until he reached her waist, his long fingers smoothing over her shift. 

"What?"

His head lowered with a chuckle and she felt his warm breath fall against her neck.

"Tell me not to do this," he said, left hand digging lightly into her hip while his right hand toyed with the ties of her shift.

"Not to do what?" Aurelia questioned softly, having to make a conscious effort not to moan or sigh in pleasure. 

"Tell me you don't want this," Jamie murmured, voice low and raspy. "Tell me you don't want me to touch you, to taste you, to have you and I will stop right now."

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Rhaenyra went to her sister’s nursery to break her fast with Aurelia and see Danae before she visited Syrax.

As she came closer to the nursery, she could hear high-pitched wails, which wouldn’t be unusual if its weren’t for the fact that Danae was back to being a calm babe. She seemed to have gotten used to Baelon’s absence and was, once more, a happy little girl.

She entered the nursery to find a red-eyed Aurelia holding Danae close, their morning meal laid out in a table by the window. 

"Rhaenyra!" Aurelia greeted. "I’m sorry for this. But Danae won’t calm down. I’ve been up half the night with her."

"Don’t worry about it," she waves it off and walks inside. She isn’t sure if she should take Danae in her arms, it might startle her and make her cry harder, after all. But she doesn’t want to leave Aurelia alone when she’s so obviously overwhelmed.

"I do not know what to do," Aurelia confided. "The nights have been hard since I moved her back to the nursery, but these past two days she’s been inconsolable. And every time I go to lay her back down in her crib, she just wails louder. She tries to hit her egg and I’m scared she’ll hurt herself."

This is something she could help with. She knows dragons. "Would you like me to look at it?"

Aurelia nodded and they went into Danae’s sleeping rooms, as Rhaenyra remembered their trip to Dragonstone to choose her sister’s dragon egg. It was beautiful, green with swirls of pink all around. She lowered her hand and almost hissed from how cold it was. It was petrified. She lifted it and turned it over, trying to find some sense of warmth, but she had to let it drop back on the crib when Danae’s cries only increased in volume as it entered her sister's eyesight. 

"Is something wrong?" Aurelia asked, coming closer.

"The egg has gone cold," she said, turning sympathetic eyes to her sister. "It happens, I’m afraid. Most eggs do not hatch."

"Oh," Aurelia sighed. "Well, I guess she will have to claim a grown dragon when she’s older."

Rhaenyra held the egg up once again. It was a beautiful thing, the pink almost sparkling. "Some eggs become warmer once again, given time. Perhaps this egg can be given to one of my children. I will fly it to Dragonstone today. Being near the Dragonmont may help warm it again."

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Alicent sat in the nursery, watching Danae as she played with her toys. She attempted to bond with her, offering a new toy to play with, but Danae seemed uninterested. Instead, she had crawled over to Aurelia, and nestled into her lap, happily playing with her toys.

She felt a pang of disappointment as she watched Aurelia and Danae play together. She had hoped to quickly forma a bond with the little girl, but it seemed she would have to accept it wouldn’t happen. Danae quite clearly preferred the company of Aurelia.

As Alicent tried to engage with the child once more, Danae shied away from her, crawling closer to Aurelia. Alicent felt a sense of rejection, but she understood that it was not personal. Danae was a babe still and she likely did not recognize Alicent, preferring the presence of Aurelia, who was a familiar face.

With that, she realized that she needed to approach the situation differently. She couldn't force a bond with Danae; she needed to let it happen naturally. So, with a heavy heart, Alicent stood up and walked over to Aurelia and Danae.

"May I watch you play?"

Aurelia smiled and nodded as she handed a new toy to Danae. "Of course."

Alicent sat down nearby and watched as Danae played with her toys. The child occasionally glanced at Alicent, but she didn't seem to want to interact with her. And each time, Alicent attempted to engage with her, Danae shied away.

And suddenly, as if by the blink of an eye, Danae's mood changed when Alicent attempted to join in on their game. She began to cry and reached out to Aurelia. "Amma! Amma!"

Aurelia quickly picked up the child, soothing her with soft words and gentle touches. Danae clung to Aurelia, tears streaming down her face.

Alicent watched the scene with a heavy heart. She knew that Aurelia was the one that Danae turned to for comfort, and it hurt her to see the child cry for her governess instead of her. She was the one who would become the babe’s stepmother. She was the one who the girl should think of as a mother.

After a few minutes, Danae's tears subsided, and she snuggled into Aurelia's arms. 

Aurelia looked over at Alicent, a sympathetic expression on her face. "I think it's best if you leave us alone for a while."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"I will return soon, Mother," Laena murmured against her mother’s shoulder. 

"I wish I could stop you," her mother said in return. "But you are too much like me for me to even try it."

"Vhagar will protect me," she answered, truly believing it. 

Her mother smiles, twirling a strand of her hair across her finger. "I know it. But I still worry. That’s a mother’s lot, I fear."

"I’ll return," Laena promises then. "With letters from Laenor and Father. And as soon as the situation has improved, I’ll come back permanently. I promise."

Her mother closed her eyes and nodded. 

"I know you do not want me to go, but if you shall not go with me, I shall go alone. They’re too stubborn to admit they need help, but they need me and Vhagar there. No one can harm me on Vhagar, Mother."

"I still dislike this. But you can go with my blessing."

Laena squealed and hugged her mother before she headed outside, towards the caves where Vhagar made her home.

Her massive dragon heard Laena's footsteps and turned to face her. Laena stood unflinchingly in front of her until Vhagar lowered herself and she sprung into action, attaching her trunk and various satchels to the saddle as she murmured in Valyrian against the massive beast.

"Lykiri!" Laena ordered, her voice quivering as the dragon started rising.

"Lykiri! Vhagar! Lykiri!" Laena repeated as she moved around her dragon, making sure everything was secure.

Vhagar lowered herself again and moved her head closer to Laena, letting her pet her. For all that she was over a hundred years old, she never seemed to tire of nosing for affection.

The dragon let out a lazy growl and turned her head, almost as if gesturing for her to mount her so they could fly.

Laena steeled herself and started the process of pulling at the ropes and hoisting herself up before securing herself to the saddle tightly.

"Soves!"

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Later on, she will tell herself differently, but as she looks at herself in the looking glass, Alicent thinks on how much more beautiful Rhaenyra and Aurelia look. She should be resentful, should rage against it because it’s her wedding day and she should be the most beautiful woman in the Sept, but she says nothing. For the first time in months, Rhaenyra spoke to her of her own volition and she won’t toss away this chance at reconciliation.

Her dress is off white with dark red accents on her sides. Her hair is in curls and pinned up on her head with a tiara filled with pearls adorning her auburn hair. It’s a beautiful dress, she knows. She looks beautiful, she knows.

But she pales in comparison to Rhaenyra and Aurelia. 

What were her common features to the ethereal beauty of Old Valyria? What was her slim and thin body in comparison to the curves and sensuality of the Rhoynar?

How was she meant to compare to Rhaenyra and Aurelia?

Rhaenyra, who is wearing a black dress that clings to her upper body, wrapping itself around her neck and leaving her arms bare. A black dress with burgundy lace carefully stitched across it that called to mind the Targaryen sigil, with how the lace rises through her body before the skirt billows out at her waist.

Aurelia, who wears a golden dress bedazzled with precious, shimmering stones across the bodice, with more even more stones threaded across the fabric that falls across her shoulders and upper arms. Aurelia, whose dress seems to have a translucent and shimmering overdress, whose dress shines every time she moves, with a long shawl attached to her shoulders that called to mind royalty.

 She will tell herself differently years later, but when they stand together before the looking glass on the day of her wedding, Alicent thinks to herself how much more beautiful her friends look in comparison to her.

She should not have expected anything else; this is how it’s always been. Rhaenyra is a Targaryen, a princess, the heir to the throne. She’s always been spoiled, never denied anything. Her dresses are always the finest, she has trunks solely dedicated to her jewels — many of which come from Essos and other lands, brought by Prince Daemon on his various travels. 

And Aurelia is the only Princess of Dorne, one of the only two girls that remain in the Swann line. When she’d first come to court, Alicent hoped that maybe they could bond over being the daughters of second sons, but quickly realized it was a foolish notion. Lord Adrian had married a princess, had made himself indispensable to his older brother in Stonehelm. Her father became the Hand of the King, but Uncle Hobert barely paid him any mind. They were not the same.

She’s used to this. She’s used to being overshadowed. 

"Come now," Aurelia says, meeting her eye in the mirror, and she offers Alicent a small smile. "A bride should be joyous on her wedding day."

She does not weep as she weds King Viserys before the sight of the Seven, and she thinks that should please her father enough. She takes King Viserys’s hands, his grip firm but the skin thin and loose, and she says the words as the Septon bids her, her voice even, without trembling. She does not cry at the dinner feast, either, when they seat her and Rhaenyra side by side and it’s clear to everyone who is the more beautiful between them. 

Chapter Text

June 109 AC

"Not bad for your first battle from the sky, sister," Laenor praised Laena that night in the camp.

"Not bad at all," Joffrey cheered, raising his goblet of wine to his lover’s sister.

"Thank you," Laena said.

"Were you nervous?" Her cousin, Daeron, asked.

Laena thought for a moment. "Not very. Vhagar is a war dragon, after all and I’m confident enough in our bond."

Daemon raised his goblet at this.

Laenor thought for a moment, remembering what battle was like on Seasmoke’s back, especially when he first began himself. "I’m glad you got to experience this, Laena. Hopefully, once we win, we’ll bring back the might of Valyria."

"Hear, hear," Lord Corlys concurred.

Vaemond, Corlys’s brother, scoffed before walking away from the group.

Corlys sighed. "You’ll have to excuse your uncle."

"It’s because he’s sour about the succession," Laenor laughed, leaning against Joffrey. "He hates that he’s not next in line."

"Laenor," Corlys said in a warning tone.

Laena smiled uneasily, getting the idea her uncle might become a problem in the future.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"Well, niece, what news?" 

Her Uncle Hobert still addressed her as if she were simply his niece, as if she were stil the Lady Alicent Hightower, and not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She and King Viserys had been married for three months now, and she felt as if her every move was scrutinized. The courtiers looked at her, wondering what made the king choose her over Laena Velaryon, they looked at her waistline, expecting to see it expand, to see that she and the King had married because she carried his child already — as if she would surrender her maidenhead before marriage, as if she and the King had done even more to tarnish Queen Aemma’s memory.

"News of what, Uncle?" Alicent questioned with a steely glare. Of course she knew what it was that he wanted to know. Her father was the one who had ordered a midwife brought to her, but her whole family was now concerned with her womb. 

"Don't play stupid Alicent," Aunt Rosamund cut in from beside her husband, just as keen, just as eager to hear that a Hightower was carrying the King's child, more than that, that their niece was carrying the King’s son. Neither of them would be pleased with her answer. "Is there a child in your womb or not?"

"No," Alicent responded evenly, and immediately their faces showed disappointment. "The King and I have been married but three moons, it is still too soon…"

"Alicent," her father interrupted, his voice harsh as he moved towards her, hands clasping firmly onto her shoulders. "Queen Aemma was always quick to conceive, even if the birthing bed was not kind to her. You must conceive just as quickly and deliver a son, an heir."

Alicent tried not to flinch at her father’s words. "Rhaenyra is the heir."

"Until you deliver a son," her father countered.

"Rhaenyra was named as the heir even while Prince Baelon lived," Alicent argued. "Why would she not remain heir even if I have a son?"

"Baelon was sickly by all accounts," her uncle answered. "He did not make it to six moons. At least one of your future sons should be made of sturdier stock."

"My husband named his firstborn as his heiress," she answered. "I doubt he will take kindly to conversations of usurping his beloved daughter."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

King’s Landing, July 109 AC

Edrick, dearest friend of mine,

Things remain much the same at court. 

Rhaenyra has attached herself to me and spends her days between the nursery and the Dragonpit, steadfastly refusing to speak to the King or Alicent. She is hurt by their marriage and I can’t blame her. There’s almost palpable tension whenever they’re in the same room and it’s honestly painful. Rhaenyra can’t understand Alicent’s position, how she couldn’t refuse a proposal from the King, but Alicent is steadfast in her belief that if she continues to reach out, she’ll wear her down. I’m trying to avoid getting in the middle of it, but sometimes I want to lock them both in a room together and only let them out after they’ve made up.

On a change of topic, I heard about Lord Matthos. I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do from here or if you need anything. I know you looked up to him as a father.

Apart from what I know, how are things in the Reach? Have the lords finally left you alone? Or are they still lurking around, waiting for you to act and seize Highgarden from Lord Randyll’s hands? You’d think men would have enough sense, but apparently not.

I must leave you, my duties call me. Hopefully, you’ll be able to come visit your mothers soon and we shall see each other again.

Aurelia.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

He circled the shrubberies, catching sight of Aurelia and Danae but he hung back, watching them from behind a concealing bush.

There was no sign of the other nursemaids and attendants of the nursery. Aurelia must have dismissed them so that they could be alone. Aemma’s dog, a dark grey hound of that she had doted on, Spirit, was with them and Danae was amusing herself by throwing a soft leather ball to the animal, squealing as it ran after it, picking it up and trotting back to her with its prize between its jaws.

"Look, Amma!" Danae pried the ball, which Viserys imagined must be wet with the dog's drool, from the animal's mouth and held it out for Aurelia to take. "Your turn."

Viserys watched as Aurelia, who was not unlike other ladies of the court with her lack of patience for dirt, grime or sweat, took the ball without even a hint of hesitation, and tossed it a few yards so that the dog could tear after it. The dog barked in excitement as it tore after the ball, running as fast as its legs could carry it and almost tumbling in its eagerness to fetch the toy and to carry it back to its mistress.

Viserys watched, smiling but the scene was a bittersweet one, all the should’ves heavy in his mind. It should be Aemma playing with Danae, Baelon toddling alongside his sister. Aemma should be the woman Danae looked up with stars in her eyes. But it was Aurelia instead.

Danae looked up at Aurelia like she held all the answers of the universe inside her, like the was the end-all, be-all for her life. With a pang of regret, Viserys acknowledged that the young girl had been more of a parent to her than himself. Aurelia spent her days cloistered inside the nursery or carrying Danae through the castle, instead of enjoying her youth, knowing that the little girl needed someone who was devoted to her. That should have been him, but instead he’d locked himself away, mourning Aemma and then Baelon. And Aurelia had stepped up, going beyond her duties as a governess and instead taking on the role of a second mother to Danae, much like she acted as an older sister to Rhaenyra.

Aurelia's laughter mingled with Danae's at the dog's antics and Viserys found himself yearning to join them, but, although he wanted to step forward, to reveal his presence to them, he hesitated.

Would they welcome him or would they view his arrival as an intrusion into their game?

How would his daughter react if he suddenly revealed his presence?

It was a source of shame for him, but Danae looked at him as she would look at any other lord in the court — she knew he was her father, but that was an abstract concept for her. He did not visit the nursery as much as he should and he did not order for her to be brought to his rooms nearly as often as he should.

Would his daughter welcome him into the game? Or, would she react badly and cling to Aurelia, wishing the perceived intruder to remove himself?

He had no right to intrude, to mar their day in the gardens. And so, not wanting them to hear him, he slipped away as quickly and as quietly as he could, the sound of their laughter growing fainter as fainter as he walked away.

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Sunspear,  August 109AC

I’m worried.

Things are tense here at Sunspear, Leah. 

Papa and Qoren are being even shorter with each other. I heard the words marriage and betrothal being thrown around one of the times they got into a shouting match. I couldn’t figure out what was the matter — I don’t know if Qoren is pushing Papa to remarry, or if they disagree on either of our future spouses. But I don’t like this.

They’ve never been so brusque. I fear this won’t end well for us. More ravens have been flying and arriving to the rookery, which has made me think that perhaps more than one marriage is being negotiated. I’m frustrated that I can’t figure out what is happening and I worry I’ll only make you fret about it. But I think it’s best if you know what’s going on, so you won’t be caught off guard if a missive arrives with news of a marriage.

Take care of yourself,

Love,

Morgan.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The Stepstones

Daemon and his advisors studied the map. Small dragon figures on various islands marked his forces’ positions, and mingling with them were coins from Tyrosh and Westerosi golden dragons, marking the position of Triarchy forces and pirates. It was these islands which were the greatest pain to win. 

One cannot torch island after island, there are simply too many, and ships come and go too quickly. Caraxes had not seen much action after the fall of the some of the large islands, and instead the Velayron naval forces had been forced to mount raids on each occupied island, invading from the sea to assault entrenched enemy forces. It worked; the slow steady progress eastwards was proof of it. But it is too expensive, in terms of men, ships, and gold. Simply ending the war and declaring victory was not possible either. Without control of the sea between them, Daemon’s little kingdom would crumble.

But that slow war was of little consequence compared to the new danger on the western edges of the archipelago. As Daemon stared at the sun figurine which rested on the western edge of the map, he was reminded of the recent reports, which he had confirmed personally from the air, atop Caraxes’s back. 

Dornish ships are amassing on the islets off the coast of Sunspear. 

This was a new challenge, and not one which fire and blood could solve. It was one thing to battle with the forces of the Triarchy. There, Daemon had the implicit blessing of the Iron Throne, and the explicit blessing of House Velayron. But a war with Dorne was not a war which could be won with Daemon’s force of sellswords and Velyaron bannermen. It would drag the Seven Kingdoms into open conflict with their southern neighbor, which was not something Viserys would tolerate. 

Daemon ran a hand through his silver hair and snorted.

Later that night, Daemon was left alone in his tent, writing letters by candlelight. One was to his cousin Rhaenys, and that one was the easiest to write. In it, Daemon gave his cousin an update on the war situation, an explanation of the emerging Dornish crisis, and his solution to it. As always, Daemon finished his letter to Rhaenys with a plea for more men, more ships, and more gold. 

Daemon turned to writing the second letter, for Prince Qoren Martell of Dorne. In it, he put all the flowery humility parchment could hold and requested an audience in Sunspear.

Chapter Text

February 110AC

Aurelia stared at the letter in front of her with pursed lips. She knew this day would come eventually; she had been prepared yet still she did not like the news that was bought to her.

She was seventeen now, it was to be expected that after five years, Qoren and her father would come to an agreement and that she’d be called home to marry. Morgan’s letter a few months ago had only made her expect it. Yet, she wanted to rage. Despite what she’d said years ago when she’d first been sent to King’s Landing, now she wanted to stay. It had become a home of sorts for her and she wasn’t ready to leave the Princesses. 

Princess Viserra had become a second mother to her, taking her in during one of Queen Aemma’s confinements and then she and the Queen had basically allowed her to flit between their households as she pleased. The Princess had taught her to play the game at court, which was honestly not so different to the game of wizarding politics, she had come to find out. And Rhaenyra still needed her, the girl was a bomb waiting to go off and she couldn’t help but fear that it would happen when Alicent gave birth to her child, when a son was born to the King as she’d seen in the flames. 

And Danae. Danae, who she’d been tasked to care for but who she now thought of as her own. Who she sometimes saw Bianca in, an energetic and fearless little girl who’d grow up to claim Vermithor or Dreamfyre, no doubt — unable to settle for a hatchling when she could have a grown dragon, especially since her egg had grown cold. The thought of leaving her behind broke her heart.

"You look troubled, Aurelia," Princess Viserra’s voice awoke her from her musings. She had almost forgotten where she was, so consumed she had been by her own thoughts.

"I received a letter from my father today," Aurelia responded, cursing the tears that came to her eyes as she spoke, at Viserra’s signal she began to make her way to her, and sat across from the Princess with grace, despite her emotional state.

"We will miss you."

Aurelia was touched by her words, yet still they did nothing to ease her troubles.

"I wish I could stay here," Aurelia responded, pouting. A part of her wished that Viserra had all the answers, that she would be able to make the Qoren and her father change their minds, but the other part of her knew that she could not.

"I know, Aurelia, I know," Viserra said gently, taking Aurelia's hands into her own as she spoke. "I did not wish to marry either. But we must all do things we do not like from time to time. Marriage is, sadly, one of them."

At that Aurelia could not say anything or make any protest. She knew well enough how true the words were. She’d always known her time in King’s Landing would end when she had to marry. She’d trade court for her husband’s castle. 

"It is not so bad," Viserra soothed, her grip on Aurelia’s hand tightening. "And I’m sure you’ll have your husband bending to your will in no time." 

"You taught me well," Aurelia allowed. "I shall do my duty. I only hope that one day I’ll be able to come back."

"You will," Viserra promised. "Even if I have to be the one to summon your husband to court."

In fear of showing her emotions too much, Aurelia simply nodded  with a small smile on her lips.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Alicent scolded herself everyday for obeying her father, for going to the king’s rooms and continuing to do so.

She's seven and ten now, a woman grown and she should have known better. Known better than to visit a recently widowed man in his chambers, known better than to do so for months, known better than to keep the visits from Aurelia and Rhaenyra, known she should have gone to Princess Viserra if she didn’t wish to confide in her friends.

Alicent never should have obeyed her father in that instance, but she’d been raised to follow her father’s orders, to never question him and that was what she’d done. It was because of him that she was now the queen, that she now had a restless child who she loved with all her heart growing inside her.

But it was also because of him that she’d lost Rhaenyra.

Alicent had been raised knowing that her first child had to be a boy. No matter how much she wished for a daughter, a boy had to come first — a boy to be his father’s heir.

And, when the gods stopped answering her prayers of not letting her fall with child, Alicent’s prayers switched to wishing for a girl. She desperately prayed the babe in her womb was a daughter. A sweet girl she could raise to idolize her sister, who would grow with the stories of her foremothers, fierce Visenya and joyful Rhaenys as well as good and wise Alysanne.

She’s the queen now, but she feels that Aemma Arryn left a huge gap that she is unable to fill. Rhaenyra does her best to avoid being in the same room as her, little Danae tolerates her presence at best and the courtiers look at her and whisper behind her back.

She doesn’t feel like a queen.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Rhaenyra is sitting on her bed, watching as Aurelia packs. "I wish I could come with you."

Aurelia glances up at her. "And do what in Dorne?" She chuckles. "Be held for ransom by my brother?"

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes. "I know I can’t, but I’d prefer to get away from here."

"You’ll have to talk to them at one point," Aurelia says as she starts sorting her clothes between the trunks.

Rhaenyra, her father and Alicent are basically in a stalemate, with Rhaenyra refusing to talk to them unless she absolutely has to.

Rhaenyra stills, her shoulders stiffening. "And what should I say?"

"Anything," Aurelia sighs. "I would want you to talk to me, even if it's not nice, if it were me."

Rhaenyra gives her a sharp look. "You wouldn't have done what she did."

"Of course I would have," she says and Rhaenyra looks as if she’d been slapped. "He’s your father, I know that. But more than that, he is the King. You can’t deny the King if he asks to marry you. Even if it’s not something I would have wanted, even if it’s not something my father or brother would have wanted, we could not have refused him."

She does her best not to grimace when Rhaenyra stares at the bedding, not meeting her eyes. "I'm not trying to be cruel, I'm really not. But I need you to understand where someone like me, or like Alicent is coming from, too. It's not about slighting you but about her family."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia entered the room carefully, head held high. She knew what was about to happen and she wouldn’t be cowed by it. She was a descendant of Elenei, who faced the wrath of the gods. She was descended from Nymeria, who led her people across uncertainty and into a new land. She could do this.

Jamie remained facing away from her, drinking slowly from his goblet of wine as he looked out the window. Aurelia could see how tense he was and sighed internally. That was good. 

"Jamie."

Jamie didn’t turn to look at her, but Aurelia knew he had heard him, he knew she was there. She knew him too well to think he didn’t. 

It was a long time before Jamie sighed and raised his head, straightening his back. Aurelia waited for him to speak with bated breaths. "Princess Viserra called me to her rooms today. She told me you were summoned home."

Aurelia nodded, even if he could not see her. "I was," she confirmed. "It is not my wish to go, but I can’t stay here against my brother’s orders."

"I know," Jamie’s voice seemed tense, almost scared, and Aurelia stepped closer, placed one hand on Jamie’s shoulder, hoping against hope that it would be read as a comforting gesture. But he only tensed up more.

Before she could remove her hand, Jamie turned and the movement made Aurelia’s arm fall to the side. But she barely bothered with it, because of the look on Jamie’s face. Despair and longing were in his eyes and she ached just by looking at him.

"I’ve made a decision," said Jamie. "About us." 

Aurelia nodded. She always knew it would happen one day. 

"We can’t…I won’t wait for you. Especially not if you will marry. It would bring dishonor to us both."

"I know," Aurelia murmured. "I just hope that we can be friends if I ever come back to King’s Landing."

"Perhaps."

Jamie pulled her into an embrace, arms tight around her, and she did not hesitate to return it, holding him close to her. They stayed together for long minutes, feeling each other’s warmth, not speaking. She leaned her head against Jamie’s shoulder and a shudder ran through her when she felt warm lips touch her forehead gently, tilting her head back to look at him. Jamie dragged his lips down to her lips.

They kissed, hungry for each other, and Aurelia wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"Little hatchling" she calls as Danae toddles around in the nursery, causing the girl to smile as she looks over to her before heading her way.

Aurelia takes her into her arms and settles her in her lap, allowing her to take her bracelet into her own chubby little fingers.

"Danae," she holds her face in her hands tenderly. "I need to tell you something. In a few days, I will leave on an adventure."

The poor girl looks confused. "Danae go?"   

"No, my hatchling. I will go alone. I will bring you many gifts, however."

Aurelia is prepared for the tears that fill Danae’s amethyst eyes, but she still feels her heart break as she sees it. It’s expected for children to cry, but while she can fix a little cut, she can’t fix the emotional turmoil she’s putting the little girl through. 

"No," she murmurs, trying to contain her sobs. 

"Oh, don’t cry. It will be alright. I will come back," she hugs the little girl tighter.

"Danae," she guides her away from her despite her feeble protests. "I am your Amma, right? And, as your Amma, I have to protect you."

Danae nodded, reaching for her again, but she stopped the girl. 

  Another nod. The tears have thankfully stopped altogether, the girl fully focused on her. Aurelia’s heart beats a bit easier.

"I will tell you a secret," she whispers, inching closer to her. "You must promise to never tell this to anyone."

"I no tell, Amma!"

"When I come back, I will take you on an adventure. Right now, I’m just making sure it will be safe."

Her mouth falls open. "‘eally?"

"Yes, hatchling."

"I wuv you, Amma!" 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Prince Qoren’s solar, Sunspear, Dorne (Royal Residence of House Martell)

For once, the bronze bitch will be useful for something, Daemon thinks as he looks at the Prince of Dorne.

"I’m already married."

Qoren laughs. "To a wife you despise," he answers shortly. "Even here we have heard how you had to be led at sword point to your chambers following the wedding and I would even go as far as to say the marriage remains unconsummated."

"That doesn’t change the fact that I’m married and the Faith does not abide by polygamy," he grits out.

"Although the High Septon is of Hightower stock, the council of the Most Devout have the power to overrule him or to simply make decisions without consulting him. And we have many Sands among them," Qoren says easily. "And our septon here in Sunspear, Andar, is devoted to us. Septon Andar would marry you and annul your marriage to your bronze bitch, as you so affectionately call your wife. Then, he will send his conclusion to Oldtown where the Most Devout will convene and ratify his decision."

"Don’t you want something else?" The Rogue Prince tries. "A royal marriage for your firstborn daughter, perhaps?"

"I have no children yet and my firstborn will succeed me," Qoren says evenly. "I will not give a Targaryen control over Dorne. You marry my sister and we remain neutral. You do not marry her and we will support the Triarchy."

Chapter Text

March 110 AC

Aurelia is welcomed only by her brother’s steward once she and her party reaches the courtyard at Sunspear. She is then led towards her father’s solar, where he leaves her after her father grants her entrance.

Aurelia walks briskly across the solar to her father’s side at his desk, he looks up and smiles broadly, opening his arms and she is all too eager to lean into his warm embrace. As they separate, he gestures for her to take a seat and she does so, her eyes roving around the solar and taking in the changes.

"How was your travel, little sun?" He asks her, taking her small hand in his larger one. Her father might not be as large as a Baratheon, but the blood from his Baratheon mother certainly makes itself known in him most out of the three children Arella Baratheon bore for Alessander Swann. And Aurelia takes after her mother in her petite and small body, which only makes the difference in their frames more clear.

"It was alright," she says. "We made good time and didn’t run into any problems on the way."

"That’s good."

His smile does not fade, but his eyes seem to soften slightly, as if in pity. Aurelia can’t stand that; she is glad he squeezes her hand and releases it before she can try to jerk away in annoyance. She doesn’t want to be pitied and there is no reason for it. She knows why she was called back home, knows that she will soon be married but it doesn’t scare her. For all that she might mourn her relationship with Jamie, she always knew it would come to an end when one of them was made to marry. 

"There is a matter we must speak about," he says, and after a moment’s hesitation, takes a piece of parchment and reads it.

Aurelia stares at him blankly, only registering that it is a letter from Prince Daemon.

"Aurelia," her father says, again, too gently. "Prince Daemon has agreed to marry you in exchange for our non-interference in his war."

Aurelia stares at him, blinks, and blurts out. "Are you mad?"

"Little sun —"

"Don’t call me that," she snaps. "Don’t you dare call me that after what you’ve just said."

Her father closes his eyes as he thinks. "Will you not smile, Aurelia? You will not find a higher match in Westeros."

"I am Dornish," she hisses. "I knew I’d marry, but I thought you’d arranged a marriage with Ser Borros or old Dondarrion. Not the Rogue Prince!"

Her father’s smile vanishes."Borros Baratheon is a man who can barely read and spends more time on the training yards on a regular day than he has ever spent in a library. And while Blackhaven is a perfectly good keep, Ser Julian is already promised and I would not see you wed a man old enough to be my own grandfather."

"So that means I must be tied to a Targaryen? The man is already married!"

"Not anymore," her father presses a finger to his forehead. "Your brother has spent some time negotiating with Oldtown. He somehow managed to get the Prince’s marriage to Lady Royce annulled."

"So our ways are now subterfuge? I’ll be the laughingstock of the court, Papa! The second wife, while the first wife still lives. I’ll be laughed at and mocked. My children will be derided as bastards and will have no inheritance to speak of."

"Prince Daemon and your brother spoke at length," he answers. "The Prince means to lay claim to the Stepstones once he’s won his war against the Three Daughters. I wouldn’t see you wed without an inheritance, sweetheart. And the Targaryens always intermarry, your child could be wed to Princess Rhaenyra’s. Your daughter could be Queen."

"I don’t want to be a queen’s mother," she blurts out. "I want a quiet life. I want to marry a kind man and be able to return to court, to be tutored by Princess Viserra and raise little Princess Danae."

Her father stills and turns to her, grave and serious. "You are old enough to understand your duty," he says, somber. "You always knew you’d have to marry a man you didn’t choose. You’ve known since your mother’s death that your brother and I would choose. I don’t understand why you are acting as if this is a surprise."

"Because we’re Martells," she snaps back with a defiant tilt of her chin. "I should marry as my foremothers have done instead of giving a Targaryen Martell blood through which he can claim Sunspear."

She’s grasping and she knows it. She’s the youngest of her mother’s children and as such, comes after both her brothers and their eventual children in the succession. Moreover, if her father speaks the truth — and he must, for he has no reason to lie to her — then Daemon will have no incentive to even attempt to claim Sunspear and Dorne with it. A group of islands with the strategic value of the Stepstones are a much better prize. 

"Aurelia," her father says tensely. "This is not up for discussion. You will marry Daemon Targaryen once the preparations have been completed."

"Where will I live?" She asks, raising a brow. Viserys exiled his brother after Aemma’s death and right now, he is waging war in the Narrow Sea. As his wife, she very much doubts she will be welcomed at court. He has no keep, no lands where she can live and she knows Qoren will not want her to stay in Sunspear when there are alternatives. There is always Stonehelm, but the idea does not appeal to her at the moment and she try much doubts her uncle will welcome her for an extended stay. She loves her uncles but, barring Johanna, her cousins are entitled brats. She has no wish to  live with Theo and Byron for however long the Rogue Prince wages war in the Narrow Sea.

"His commanders wish for you to remain with him in the camp," her father says unhappily. "Likely to ensure Qoren will not ready the fleet to support the Triarchy."

"I see."

"Morgan is already planning to go with you," he reassures her. "I will go as well, with a group of men sworn to us. I have a list of ladies who I believe could make a good addition to your household, so you can look it over and decide who to invite. And Lady Carolei is already here. She is eager to see you again and help you navigate the next few weeks."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

She had decided to dress simply before seeing Qoren. Instead of wearing one of her new gowns, she donned an old one in the Martell colors. The orange fabric flowed over her skin, swirling around her feet as she walked through the halls. It had a strapless neckline, and puffed sleeves that ended at her elbows. Admittedly, it was strange to wear the Dornish fashions again, to have her neckline and shoulders bared, but it would be better if she wore this than the Northern fashions. She wore her hair down, with no headpiece, yet she knew she still looked a Princess.

When she entered the throne room, she found what she had expected to. Her brother on the Sun Chair and Valena next to him, their hands entwined.

Aurelia curtsied deeply once as she entered the room and walked forwards, curtsying again once she was closer. It would be better to soften Qoren to her if she’d get him to change his mind.

"Sister," Qoren greeted, motioning for Aurelia to rise. He knew why she’d requested this audience, but he would not be swayed. This marriage was perfect, it’d see her bound in marriage to a Targaryen and perhaps pave the way for more favorable trading deals with the other kingdoms. And, it would allow him to keep his people out of the Stepstones — avoiding war was always a bonus.

"Brother," Aurelia said in response, before turning her attention to Valena with a smile. "Sister."

"I trust your father has let you know why you were called back?"

"Yes, but…"

"The Sea Snake wrote that Prince Daemon is most eager to marry you," Valena butted in, no doubt wishing to assuage whatever argument could grow between the siblings.

At her words, all of Aurelia's tact left her and all she could see was red.

"I plead with you," Aurelia said looking at Valena. "Please, don’t make me marry him. You have heard the tales about him. He’s already married!"

Valena looked uncertainly at him before answering. "His marriage has been annulled, Aurelia," she soothed. 

"He is a cruel man," Aurelia pleaded again. "He calls Lady Rhea the Bronze Bitch."

"He is a handsome warrior," again Valena spoke. "He will no doubt fall in love the moment he sees you."

"Please, don’t make me marry him. There are other men in the Stepstones of sufficient rank."

"You speak with ungratefulness, Aurelia," Qoren scolded. "He is the only man I would consider for my only sister. You’ll be a Princess twice over."

"I’m already a Princess. I don’t need to marry a Prince."

"Enough," Qoren's voice cracked through the room like a whip.  "Aurelia, I know this is not what you wished. But this is what is going to happen. You will marry Daemon Targaryen or if not, Dorne will go to war on the Stepstones."

And, Aurelia realized she would not win this fight. She had never had a chance really. Qoren had already made up his mind and nothing would change it. She had to trust Valena had tried, but that she’d been unsuccessful. 

She sighed deeply before addressing her brother, her voice icy and detached, she had lost the battle but she was determined she would win this war.

"Promise me something, brother," she waited until Qoren had nodded his head in response to her words before she continued. "I will marry him. I will go into the Sept as the happy and beautiful bride everyone expects me to be. But if he dies in battle, I get to choose my next husband. Not you or my father. Not your councilors. Me. Agreed?"

Qoren nodded and for the moment, that was enough for her.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Jamie walked very slowly behind Danae, armored arms extended, horror in his heart at the thought that the Princess might fall and hurt herself.

She was so small, dressed in a very puffy red  dress, her small feet stomping as she walked with determination.   

Queen Alicent walked by her stepdaughter’s side, her belly swollen with her first child, both dawdling slowly down the corridor.   

"Very good, Danae!" Alicent congratulated rather awkwardly. He knew the Queen’s efforts to bond with Danae had been futile so far, but she continued to try. "You are growing up so fast."  

"Yes, she’s growing very quickly," Jamie agreed, swiping a hand through his hair to shake off the sweat. "Would you like me to carry her the remainder of the way?"  

"No!" Danae answered petulantly, stomping her little foot on the stone floor, arms crossed in anger.   

"Danae!" Alicent chastised. "That is not the way to say no!" 

"It is alright, Your Grace," Jamie assured her a wide smile lifting his bearded cheeks. "She is very assertive, it is a good sign in a Princess. Ser Harrold told me Princess Rhaenyra was the same way."  

"See, Ali?" Danae answered, smiling towards her stepmother, hand waving towards Ser Jamie. "I good!" 

Her little face scrunched up with effort then. "Up?"  

"And, now she wants to be carried," Alicent shook her head impatiently, trying to find purchase against the wall to lean down. "I swear, I don’t understand children."

"Oh, no, please let me!" Jamie hurried to lean down and pick up the Princess, tucking her into his side, smiling as the Princess wrapped her arm around his neck. "Here," he extended his free arm towards Alicent.  

"They ought to make these rooms closer," Alicent huffed, pushing the door open with impatience, startling the men in the room. "Gods, I need a seat."  

Viserys ran towards his wife, checking her obsessively as he helped her sit, fluffing a pillow to lay at her back before tripping over his own feet to reach the pitcher of honeyed milk. One that he had ensured every room where Alicent might set foot in. He had learned from Aemma’s various pregnancies that it was best to anticipate the needs of an expecting mother.

"Hello!" Princess Rhaenyra greeted happily (ignoring Alicent, he noted), reaching forward to take Danae from Jamie, who was currently having a tough time prying her arms from his neck. "Ser Jamie, have you stolen my sister from me?"  

"Jam!" Danae huffed, tightening her grip on her sworn shield. 

"I apologize, my Princess," Ser Jamie sighed, a little choked as the girl held tighter. "She is slightly stuck."  

"She is obstinate like that," Viserys huffed, smiling at his daughters.

"Not at all," Rhaenyra shook her head. "She is a Targaryen, a dragon Princess."  

Danae perked up hearing dragon and loosened her hold on Jamie. Rhaenyra laughed and took her sister into her arms.

"Would you like to see Syrax?"

Danae nodded her head. "Sywax! Sywax!"

"Father, I —"  

"Oh, go on. It’ll do her good to be with the dragons."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Daemon Targaryen is Aurelia’s senior by eleven years, he first married when she was only five years old and his ill-treatment of his wife is well known throughout the continent. And yet, he is who her brother intends to tie her in marriage to.

She was not a fool. There was no way she would be able to change her brother’s mind — more than anything, because he and her father had agreed on Daemon as a husband for her. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to forgive her father for it. Of Qoren, she had expected such callousness. Not of her beloved father.

And so, she had started going through her mind for their scarce interactions, for every time she’d heard first-hand accounts about the Prince. She’d taken to analyzing them, trying to piece together a picture of the man she was meant to marry.

Would he be a good man? A kind man? Her parent's marriage had been to seal peace, but while they had been happy, she knew not all were so. Some wives despised their husbands, some husbands beat their wives. Such horrid thoughts made her shiver beneath the covers at night. Would Daemon beat her? Would Daemon be cruel? 

All she could do was hope and pray he was not.

Morgan had proved the perfect helper, scurrying through Sunspear between her rooms and Qoren’s solar so he could glimpse at the letters sent between Daemon and their brother. He memorized what he could and relayed it to her, giving her the gist of it all when he was calm enough to do so.

Because, much like her, Morgan had not been pleased by this marriage Qoren had arranged. Though he was her elder by not even a year, he seemed to have decided that was enough to play the part of the protective brother and this marriage was a new source of contention between both her brothers.

"He is all but sending you onto a battlefield defenseless!" He'd cried indignantly one day, pacing across her chamber. "You are a Princess of Dorne! You should be marrying a Lord Paramount! You should have your every need attended to! You shouldn’t be sent to a godsdamned war!"

As Cressida, she’d been part of two wars. She’d spent her childhood in the middle of one and her early adult life had been disrupted by another one. It was her destiny, it seemed. The Moirai must think her strong, they must think she must be tested by being sent to war. The three sisters saw her lifeline and intertwined it with a war and a warrior. Charlie Weasley as Cressida. Daemon Targaryen as Aurelia.

Chapter Text

March 110 AC

It would be far too unseemly if a Princess of Dorne had a household bereft of ladies-in-waiting. Never mind that Qoren has never cared for her or Morgan and dealt slights such as this as soon as he had the power to do so. With the presence of a Targaryen in their lands, with a royal marriage on the cards for Aurelia, she needs a household. 

"My darling girl."

She kissed the hand offered to her in a motherly manner that caused Aurelia to swallow harshly. Carolei Yronwood had been her lady mother's lady-in-waiting before Qoren married Valena, before she had been called back to the Yronwood, after her only brother's passing to assume the mantle of the ruling lady. Aurelia had fond memories of her in her youth. She had been the one who taught her the chain stitch, who spent hours on the beach with her and taught her how to swim. Aurelia had been delighted with that, had cried fat tears as she left Sunspear to take her place as liege Lady of her own household.

"Lady Yronwood," she met her with. "We are pleased to have you with us."

Lady Carolei had been blessed with two children in recent years. Victor, a son and heir first. And just a few months past, her first daughter. A beautiful, chubby baby girl named Ilaria after her mother. If Qoren had a child soon, they would all be raised together, an honor bestowed upon the Yronwoods for their service to the Martells.

Lady Carolei took no offense at her coolness. Only smiled.

"My Lady Princess," she bowed deeply, as gracefully as ever, the weight from her pregnancy nearly vanished under her skirts of green silk.

It would not have been proper to call on a ruling Lady to act as a lady-in-waiting if she weren’t already at Sunspear, having traveled to negotiate some contracts with her brother.

"It would be an honor to be my lady's companion and help prepare her for her upcoming nuptials," she told her easily enough. "And it is only right that after the mother I should tend to the daughter." She smiled warmly, gently tapping the hand she still held.

"I wish to speak to you about the Prince."

Lady Carolei lost her smile all at once and arched a brow.

Aurelia would have preferred to have this conversation much earlier and yet, since she’d been told of her engagement, time had flown by and she felt as if she barely had a moment of peace where she could breathe. 

"I only met him a few times when I was at court," Carolei said slowly. "But it was enough to know he’s rash and unpredictable. But he’s also devoted to his family. Do not make him your enemy."

"How should I gain his devotion?" She asked. "I don’t want an unhappy marriage. I don’t want my children to grow up knowing their parents are in a constant battle against each other."

It had almost destroyed her as Cressida. She had been born with both her older brothers going away for most of the year and she had grown up hearing the battles between her parents, saw as her father deteriorated before her eyes before he succumbed to death and how Walburga cared not for her feelings, preferring to use her a tool. When she’d had her own children, she’d been determined to treat them better than her parents had treated her and she would do the same in this life. No child of hers would grow up unloved or unsafe.

"I did not speak to him much, but I would say to make sure you get with child quickly. If you give him a child, he will be devoted and grateful to you. Give him that. And don’t play the damsel. He’ll get bored if he believes you to only sit gossiping with your ladies as you knit. Show him you’re a descendant of Nymeria and that will go a long way."

"Do you believe I could be happy?" Her voice wavered. "Married to him."

"Marriage isn’t easy," Carolei said honestly. "But if you put in the effort, it can work."

"For you, I will give him the benefit of my doubt."

Carolei smiled. "Shall I tend to your hair? I remember how carefully your lady mother did it. My daughter’s a babe still, but if you’d let me, I’ll attempt to care for it."

That left her breathless. That the memory wasn’t hers alone to bear. Ilaria Martell had adored her only daughter, after having two sons and their special bonding time was at night. Her mother would send her maids away and tend to her hair herself. Brushing it out and applying the oils and lotions needed, spreading them out and then braiding it for the night.

Aurelia was grateful that she avoided her eyes in the mirror while took her seat. That she hummed softly when she undid her braids to distract from the lump in her throat. That she made no further comment until Aurelia was able to regain her composure. Aemma had been the last to touch her hair in this matter. This motherly manner. She hadn’t had to, but she had tried to be an older sister to her in King’s Landing and the memory of it, coupled with remembering her mother was throwing her off. It was nice to remember the past, but it was also hard because those two women were no longer with her.

"Who would you recommend for me to take into my household?" She asks, trying to distract herself.

"There are a couple girls near your age I could recommend. But I’d say a Dayne or a Fowler and I’ll look into the other houses in the Marches."

"I remember Liane," Aurelia sucks in a shuddering breath, nodding slowly, remembering the Dayne girl who’d once lived in Sunspear. "She was a friend in my childhood."

"I’ll compile a list for you to go over. I think you should ask your father for some Stormlander ladies as well. As much as your brother hates it, you are not fully dornish and you should not forsake half of your heritage. It would serve you well to have ladies who bowed to the Targaryens when you go to court again."

Aurelia arched a brow yet nodded all the same.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Her stomach was so large now as to be ridiculous, swollen beyond belief. And, yet, she still had three more months to go. Alicent thought there was no way for her skin to continue stretching to accommodate her growing babe. It was only one child, everyone said it, and she looked much smaller than the late Queen with her babies. But she felt as if her stomach was going to be ripped apart at any moment.

And everyone told her not to fret, with rolled eyes and disgruntled sighs. Angry at placating this child queen, while Viserys had to deal with the trouble caused by his brother at the Stepstones and the fact that his daughter had been recently left without a governess since Aurelia had been called home to marry.

When Alicent asked from where would the child come out, Mirana Darke told her, with a disappointed glint in her eyes, that it would be from the same place it entered her. That seemed impossible to her, because how could the baby even pass through it?

W ith any luck, Aurelia would get married quickly and she’d get with child as soon as she did. That way, she could invite her back to court and their children could grow up together. Perhaps they could even marry.

She hoped it was a girl, a little girl with her curls in the traditional Valyrian silver and Rhaenyra’s eyes. Everyone expected her to have a son, but a girl would be better. A girl was no threat to Rhaenyra. And, if she had a girl, perhaps there was still hope for them.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

By the time she sees Starfall, Aurelia couldn’t be happier. It has been one week of hard riding, and she is aching all over. But she needed the Daynes and they are proud — she had to come herself to deliver the invitation.

They enter the courtyard and slow down the horses from a trot into a walk, leading them to where the family and the household stand to greet them. Painfully, she dismounts, taking a moment to steady herself and hoping she didn’t grimace. It’s been some time since she rode so much.

As she steps forward, the household gets on one knee. Lord Giani bows his head in greeting, as does his son, while his wife curtsies but Liane breaks the protocol and runs to embrace Aurelia.

Aurelia squeezes her childhood friend, a smile blooming on her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lady Faye watching them with keen eyes.

"Welcome to Starfall, Princess," Liane says as they separate, a wide smile on her face as she sinks into a graceful curtsy.

Lady Faye’s expression warms at the sight of her daughter’s smile.

Aurelia squeezes Liane’s hand. "Thank you."

They walk inside, with Lord Giani and his wife in the lead and Aurelia and Liane following at a slower pace, chatting in hushed voices and giggling. They are taken into the Main Hall and Aurelia’s eyes look through it, admiring the beauty and history it contains.

"My lord, my lady," she calls and they turn, to be met with the scroll written on Qoren’s hand. "I hope you will find this agreeable, I would love to have your daughter by my side again."

Aurelia hands Giani the scroll from her brother and watches as he reads it, Liane standing by her side, their hands clasped together. She watches as the lord’s face softens when he glances at his daughter and knows she has him. It will not be a failed mission.

"You honor us with your offer, Princess," Faye says. When her eyes fall on Aurelia, some of the fondness is lost, but not all. It is not a gaze full of warmth, but it’s less cold than her usual gaze.

"Your daughter was a dear friend during our childhood, my lady," Aurelia looks at Liane and smiles. "I would be glad to have her by myself side again as I enter this new stage of my life."

Giani sighs, "I know my daughter thinks the same of you. There’s nothing left for me to do but accept your proposal."

Liane squeals with happiness before running to embrace her parents. Aurelia’s shoulders relax and they head into the lord’s study to hash out the details of the contract for Liane to become her lady-in-waiting. 

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"Amma?" The blonde toddler called out, peeking behind the door of her sleeping quarters. "Amma? Amma, where? Amma?"

Lady Rosamund Hightower observed Princess Danae with a slight grimace, watching as she moved around the room, seeking her former governess, not understanding that the Princess Aurelia had returned to Dorne. The other nurses were much of the same, watching and observing, not knowing what to do. Rosamund knew she should step forward and distract the Princess with something else, something to take her mind off the matter, but for everything in her, she couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, watching her charge walk around, calling for her former governess.

"Amma hiding?" She asked the air. "Amma? Come Amma. Danae calling. Danae kiss." The little princess kissed the air, as if it would make her materialize and walked around the room, looking for her beloved former governess, the skirts of her dress dragging behind her.

At that sight, Rosamund felt her feet move. "Come, Your Highness," she tried. "It’s nearly time to visit the Queen."

But Danae Targaryen merely looked at her with disinterest, before turning back, walking across the room again, calling out to the Princess Aurelia.

"Amma!" She called out. "Danae want Amma!" She was unable to get very far though, because, in her hurry to find Aurelia Martell, she tripped over her dress, falling on her face. Rosamund immediately ran to the princess and picked her up.

"Hush," she tried to soothe her. Her cries eventually turned into hiccuping sobs.

"La-y ‘osa, I want Amma!" She cried. 

"I know, Your Highness," she said, trying her best to sound comforting and reassuring. "But we have talked about this. Your Amma is home."

"No!" 

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Morgan felt her stare on him throughout the celebrations for his sister’s engagement. Laena Velaryon, her beautiful and enchanting purple eyes fixed on him. 

He wanted to laugh at her bold demeanor, though every time he attempted to look back at her, to meet her eyes with his and beckon her closer, Lady Laena looked away with a small smile on her lips. 

She was toying with him, and it only served to inflame his desires even more. He’d believed himself in love with her the first time he saw her, nearly two years ago. Now, she’d grown even more beautiful. Her body had filled out in all the right places and she has the beauty of both Old Valyria and the Summer Islands in her lithe body.

It felt like an eternity before at last, she met his eyes, mouth slightly parted. Laena Velaryon’s pink mouth curled into a bright smile and she dipped into a low, almost mocking curtsy, turning slowly to tantalize him. She left the great hall with one last look to him, eyes inviting.

Morgan felt a low pull on his groin and stood up almost on instinct, without much thought. He left the high table, the people parting to let him through. "Good night!" He called out, good-naturedly as he left, feeling the heated gaze of his sister on his back. 

He followed the trail of Laena’s perfume, far too eager for a man of his standing and found her on the turn of a corner, back against the wall. 

"Your Highness," Laena said, dipping into another small curtsy. He touched her hand, convincing her to stand up and she locked eyes with him once again.

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Marianne Dondarrion had been summoned to Sunspear by a raven sent on the hand of Lord Adrian Swann, but likely his daughter’s words. His daughter with the late Princess Ilaria was going to get married and was looking for ladies in waiting to form a household. 

Yet, nothing had gone well since she’d left Blackhaven. One of the horses had thrown a shoe and they couldn’t go on until they found a way to fix his foot. Then, storms had delayed them before they could even leave the Stormlands. And, after finally making it into Dorne, they’d had to make frequent stops for rests, with the horses not used to the heat. 

Now she was finally at Sunspear, but she was utterly lost.

The castle was filled with what seemed to be all of Dorne and servants were scurrying to and fro. Everyone seemed to be preparing for the wedding of the Princess. Finally, she found one maid who gave her the directions to the Princess’ chambers, before deciding to guide her there, since her confusion must have shown on her face.

Conducted into the presence of the Princess, Marianne curtsied to the exact degree her mother had said was appropriate, hoping that she didn't appear uncultured. A hand came into her frame of vision, offering her help to rise. Marianne took it, looking up into friendly amber eyes. "Hello, Lady Marianne," Princess Aurelia said lightly. "I'm sorry about the confusion. It’s been chaotic here these last few weeks."

"It was nothing, my lady. And…um, I would not mind if you called me by my name," she added, a little worried that she was being presumptuous, but it was true. She was only ever called Lady Marianne by her stepfamily, in Nightsong, and she’d long dreaded those visits, even if they meant she could see her mother. It would not be good for her heart if she had to be called Lady Marianne every day.

"Marianne it is, then," the other woman corrected herself with an amused smile. "And do me the same courtesy, please."

"All right, Princess Aurelia."

Aurelia considered telling Marianne that she'd meant without the title, but reconsidered. She could get the girl in trouble for not showing proper respect, and she didn't want that. So she let it go for now. Later, when she and Marianne had been together for a while and grown close, she would suggest that they dispense with all titles in private, but for now she would follow protocol.

After the maid she'd sent for refreshments came back with tea and a tray of small pastries, Aurelia sat at her small table and told Marianne to sit across from her. "So, Marianne, tell me about yourself."

Marianne talked about Blackhaven and about her brother. "He’s older than me, but we’ve always been very close. Especially since our mother remarried and had to leave for her new husband’s home."

"And he is your grandfather’s heir?" Aurelia asks, having been remiss in looking over the lineages of the Stormlands.

"My great-grandfather’s heir," Marianne corrects. "My grandfather was the only son and my father was the oldest grandson on the male line, so it shall pass to my brother instead."

Aurelia nodded. "Well, I suppose you'll want to get to your room to unpack and relax for a little while. I'll expect you at eight in the morning tomorrow, I’ll need your help picking some fabrics and organizing the wedding still. I advise that once you unpack you explore a little. Start getting to know the palace."

"Thank you, Princess," Marianne said, curtseying to her new mistress before leaving. 

Aurelia sighed once the door closed. This deferential treatment was going to take some getting used to. In her childhood, she and Morgan had both shared the household, with children from some families joining them in their lessons, but considering their age, they hadn’t bothered with titles except in official settings. Now, at this age, they couldn’t claim ignorance. But for now, she’d have to bear it and hope that in time, she’d break her ladies out of the habit in private.

Chapter Text

April 110 AC

Dorne prepares for the wedding of a Targaryen Prince to one of their own in a flurry of action and without much time. The Princess of Dorne orders dresses by the cartload for Aurelia, dresses of blue and silver and pink and grey, sewed with pearls and other gemstones, woven with Myrish lace, stitched by hundreds of busy fingers over a mere month, dresses for feasts, for banquets, for tourneys, but most of all — Aurelia's goodsister orders dresses in red, in gold, in black, velvets meant to ripple like fire and samite bright like the light of the sun, in the colors of Martell and Targaryen. Aurelia says nothing, does nothing, merely allows the seamstress to stitch the fabrics close to her skin; she does not complain, not when the needles prick her skin in the seamstress's haste, not when the fabric closes around her, so tight that she cannot breathe.

"You must look perfection," Valena tells her. "You must waltz out of Dorne in Myrish lace and cloth-of-gold, in red and black, in fire and blood and you must make them believe you were meant for this. You must make them believe you were born to be a Targaryen. Do you understand me, Aurelia?"

Aurelia nods, and later, she will hate how young and weak she sounds in this moment. "There are hundreds of girls more beautiful than me. Perfect, pretty, highborn girls who are not descended from the Rhoynar. How am I supposed to look a Targaryen if I am Dornish?"

Valena smiles. "What are the words of our House, Aurelia?"

She swallows. "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."

"And House Targaryen?"

"Fire and Blood."

Her goodsister stands, walks to her. She is beautiful, her sister by law. Petite and slender, with dark hair and darker eyes, her skin sunkissed. Valena draws the eye in every room she walks into, men look at her with lust and women in envy. Aurelia does not possess that kind of effortless beauty. Her breasts are small, her waist barely defined. Her best trait is her eyes, so unusual but they are not enough to draw the eye.

"Our land stood, when all the other kingdoms fell," Valena says. "Our House stood firm and persevered. When the Targaryens rode dragons and burned entire villages to the ground, we held our ground. We are not conquered, Aurelia, not like the Starks, or the Lannisters, or the Arryns. The Targaryens abhor weakness, but we are unbowed, and we are unbent, and we are unbroken."

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The night was full of stars and as the cold air breezed around her, Laena wrapped her arms around herself, trying to gather some warmth. She felt silly by standing there, waiting for him, but something kept her grounded and stopped her from walking away. 

Laena held his note in her hand, his loopy handwriting marking the page that asked her to meet him by the gardens at midnight. She looked at it every other moment as if the words might change. The darkness made it almost impossible for her to make out what was written, but she knew his words by heart, as she had read it many times.

Why was she there? She should have ignored his requests. She should have told him that she was no woman to come at the calling of men. She ought to turn around at that very moment, before he arrived, and pray no one had seen her.

She ought to do many things, but she did nothing. 

Instead, Laena sat on a nearby bench and sighed, placing her hands on her lap. She looked around and saw a rustling on the bushes and the tall figure that was Morgan coming her way.

He was perfect under the nightfall, the moon and stars making his bronzed skin look as if it were shining, a beacon amongst the vegetation under the night sky. 

She tried not to swoon over the young and handsome prince but failed miserably when he brought her hand to his and pressed his lips against it.

A blush touched not only her cheeks, but his too, and it occurred to her that this may be one of the first times he's tried that on a girl.

"Are you well?"

"I am now," she spoke warmly, beaming at him, confident she was ravishing under the starlight. She was a daughter of Old Valyria, after all — there was nothing for her to be except beautiful, radiant even.

Laena realized they were still holding hands when he squeezed hers gently, sending her stomach into a flurry. She decided to move their conversation along, in hopes she might receive what she's looking for.

He was a kind man of more than adequate rank. He was enchanted by her and she by him. If she didn’t move forward, her father would promise her to some unknown man and she’d likely end up having to leave home. That would not be the case with Morgan, not if she succeeded.

"I've longed for you," she said, eyeing Morgan under her lashes.

"You think of me?"

"Sometimes," she said coyly, separating her hand from his and placing it on her lap. "You want to know the things I think of you, Morgan?" She continued, adoring his name on her tongue. She wondered how it would sound if she were drowning in pleasure while it escaped her lips. "Mostly I dream of the many things I would do to please you."

He stared at her, unable to react, it seemed he just listened, eyes flickering interest, yet his mouth remained in a tight line.

She wasn't sure why she was telling him this. However, after revealing a small bit to him, she suddenly found herself excited to confess more. Although he only displayed uncertainty, she knew he wanted to hear these things.

"A lot of times, I find myself imaging what it would be like to kiss you," admitted Laena, continuing when her courage was at its peak. She could see in his eyes that he was trying to analyze her words but she was spitting out compliments too quickly.

He stared at her for quite some time, his eyes seemed to grow darker and he took a step closer, his rich scent intensifying.

They had never been so close, with their faces only inches apart, Morgan suddenly seemed to slip between her fingers, stealing the dominance in the blink of an eye.

His arm caught her by surprise, lacing around her waist, squeezing her against him. The tension was burning her at this point.

"And what do you think it would be like to kiss me?" He queried in a low growl, his breath hot with every word.

She wanted to find out.

It seemed they had the same idea because, all too quickly, he closed the distance between their mouths. The feeling of his lips melted her, effortlessly. The kiss was not soft and lips did not brush together gently at first, unsure, as they were both eager to finally snap the tight string of sexual tension between them. She could feel the hunger in his mouth as he kissed her. 

The spot between her thighs stirred hotly with need in response to him squeezing her hips tightly, gripping her with his fingers. She could feel the dominance and passion seethe below his pounding chest and seize her.

"Morgan," she gasped hotly into his mouth, and his name was so arousing to say, her core throbbed with lust. This encouraged him to grow rougher with her, knowing now what she was comfortable with.

His hands roughly gripped her round ass, squeezing her until she gasped, her tongue still in his hot mouth. I must have more of him now, was the only thought controlling her.

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Dinner was one of usual extravagance, sporting a roasted boar at the centre of the high table and enough wine to supply an army but if she'd expected it to be a time to speak to her betrothed, even look at him, to see if the warmth in his eyes was constant, she was greatly mistaken. 

Daemon was kept completely out of sight, seated between Qoren and the Velaryons on one side of the dais while Aurelia was nestled between her goodsister and brother, on the opposite side. Every so often she turned her head, trying to subtly catch another glimpse of the Prince, but her efforts were fruitless. 

All she received were the echoes of his laughter that filled the hall from time to time, making her heart settle ever so slightly for reasons she couldn't explain. It was unfamiliar yet....natural in a sense, strangely natural, easing the knot in her stomach. 

Morgan, on the other hand was clearly less than pleased with Daemon, choosing to stab his food as if it were him instead of eating it! 

"Don’t do that," she grabbed his forearm. "There are many who are not so fortunate. Take your anger out on the training yard and not on your meal."

"We took down Meraxes and Rhaenys to avoid being subjects of the Iron Throne and now Qoren thinks this marriage is a good idea? Ha!" His laugh was bitter, hardly a laugh at all. "Really he's sold you off to exile as if you were no better than a sack of flour he were trading for a bushel of apples, you deserve better." 

Her indulgent smile faltered, the sweet wine in her mouth turning sour, and Morgan grimaced at his own words, instantly placing a hand atop hers "Sorry, Leah." 

She only swallowed, feeling the knot in her stomach tightening again. 

"We would be most happy to show you, my Lord! Why doesn't Aurelia accompany you? She knows those paths better than any!" Her head darted up at the sound of her name to find the table looking expectantly at her, mainly her elder brother who forced a laugh when she made no reply. "Aurelia, Prince Daemon has expressed an interest in the gardens, I thought you might show him?" 

She practically jumped from her seat at the offer, the prospect of fresh air instead of the stifling hall a welcome reprieve. 

"Of course, brother, I would be honored," Qoren nodded her approval but no sooner had Daemon began to push his seat back then Morgan stood beside his sister, an indignant look in his eyes. 

"I shall accompany them," he volunteered firmly but the Sea Snake waved a dismissive hand, popping a piece of bread into his mouth. 

"No need, lad!" He replied, his voice sweetly honeyed, which only served to stoke Morgan’s irritation. "My son shall go with them, you would like to see the gardens, wouldn't you, Laenor?" 

It was quite clear Laenor had no interest in the gardens from the way he was devouring the meat pie on his plate; signaling for his fourth cup of wine but one stern look from his father made him obey. Reluctantly, he lay down his knife and got to his feet, eyeing his leftovers with hungry eyes. 

"Well!" He sighed, clapping his hands. "If they are good enough to drag me away from my meal, these gardens must be grand indeed! Lead me to them, Princess Aurelia!" Despite her nerves, Aurelia couldn't help but return the grin he gave her. 

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Daemon Targaryen — the brother of the so-called King of the Seven Kingdoms — is undeniably attractive, nearly breathtaking in fact. Physically, marriage to this man will be no task. The challenges that lay ahead rest more on the Prince’s temperament and his tastes. Yet, Aurelia believes she can succeed.

As they walk through the gardens, she steels herself for an interrogation — doubtlessly he'll want to know he can be sure of her fidelity, fertility, and all the other qualities that northern men require of their wives. Aurelia is well-prepared. It is no less than she’d expect from a man who is not Dornish, Targaryen or no.

"Is this match agreeable with you, my lady? It is my understanding that you dornish women usually have the luxury of having a say in your marriage."

"This is not a time for luxuries," she says, almost on reflex.

Daemon studies her from behind unreadable eyes. "Wise words."

Aurelia looks away, hiding her flushed face behind a curtain of dark hair.

"But my question remains unanswered, my lady."

Aurelia swallows her fear and summons her courage, turning to face the prince despite the fact that her hands tremble. "I would consider myself very fortunate and pleased if you were to take me to wife. It is also my hope that our marriage might help mend the ties between Dorne and the Iron Throne."

And oh, it hurts to say the last bit. Dorne is unbent, unbowed and unbroken and this Targaryen man will no doubt believe she means to help his brother subjugate Dorne, yet it is what is needed. She knows not what Qoren has planned for her, Morgan and their father if this marriage does not go ahead, but she has no wish to find out and she will do her best to get this man to agree to wed her.

"And, I promise, Your Highness, I am untouched," she adds for good measure, well aware of the reputation her people have. And, while it is true that they are much more liberal regarding sex and love and the pleasures of the flesh, it is also true she has lain with no one. She never allowed things to go so far with Jamie, too afraid of what the consequences could be in the future. "And, I swear that I will be a true and faithful wife. I will be loyal, loving, and dutiful. I will give you as many children as you desire. I will—"

"Princess," he interrupts her, laying a gentle hand atop her trembling ones. "You misunderstand. I have already agreed to the match. It was only your consent I required."

It takes Aurelia a moment to understand. He is offering her a choice.

Se smiles. "You have it, Prince Daemon."

He returns her smile with a small one of his own, though it is tinged with sadness. "Daemon. If we are to be married, then you should call me Daemon."

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Carissa, a common, middle-aged seamstress favored by Valena entered her chambers, accompanied by two young maids.

The older woman had attended to her previously, had made her dresses for her initial journey into the capital. She’d gotten more attention in Dorne since Valena married Qoren, when it became known that she made the dresses for the new Princess consort, but she always made time for Valena and for her.

Carissa brought with her several samples of fine silk fabrics for summer and spring as well as the rich velvet and heavy wools for her to wear when the seasons changed into winter and autumn. 

All the fabrics were adorned with fine embroidery. There were also samples of Myrish lace, and gold and silver threads for further embroidery. Knowing it wouldn’t complement her, Aurelia immediately set aside the silver and received a grin in response from the woman.

Carissa also showed her various sets of small clothes made of white silk and lace. Looking at them, Aurelia blushed at the thought of when she would wear them and who would see them.

“I would like to make several dresses in our fashion, for you to use in the Stepstones, Your Highness. And, of course, some heavier dresses if needed for the nights and for you return to court. Your wedding gown is almost finished as well. You shall look splendid in it,” Carissa smiled as she used a thread to measure her body and then showed her a few more fabrics before leaving.

Aurelia barely had time to rest when a servant told her that Princess Rhaenys had arrived and was seeking an audience. She gnawed at her lip before bidding her entry.

She greeted the older Princess with a nod and gestured towards one of the chairs. “Please sit, Your Highness.”

With a small smile, Rhaenys sat and after pouring goblets of wine for them both, Aurelia took a seat opposite her. "Is there something I can help you with, Your Highness?”

Princess Rhaenys hummed. "I’m afraid it is I that should be helping you. As we all know, Princess, you will be my cousin’s wife in a few days. You have no mother to guide you in the coming days. We will be family soon enough and I have a daughter near your age. It is precarious to marry into House Targaryen — your brother has put you at risk through this match.”

Aurelia, not wanting to give Rhaenys the satisfaction of seeing her apprehensive, merely looked down at her hands.

"Have you nothing to say to that, dear Aurelia?" Rhaenys inquired.

"I am honored to become Prince Daemon’s wife," Aurelia replied automatically.

"Of course you are. Tell me, what do you know of Ceryse Hightower?”

“She was King Maegor’s first wife. She failed to give the then-Prince a child and he took a second wife in Alys Harroway, resulting in their exile. The Good Queen was born during their time in the Free Cities. After he returned and usurped the throne, he took four more wives in an attempt to have a son. Ceryse died three years before Maegor.”

“Good,” the Princess smiled. “And what do you know of Alys Harroway?”

“She was his second wife, as I mentioned before,” Aurelia paused as she thought of how to word of the next statements. “She succeeded where Ceryse failed and gave Maegor a child, even if it was a daughter. She was crowned Queen by Maegor when he usurped the throne and died giving birth to a stillborn son.”

“Good.” Princess Rhaenys stood. “Everyone knows the fates of the Black Brides as well. They were the last women to marry into House Targaryen that did not already have our blood, before Alicent and now you. They were destroyed by Maegor in different ways. My cousin has been oft compared to him. He is not so much like him, but he can be cruel. Your marriage will be a trial. You are pretty enough, so I guess you at least will have your children to seek comfort in when he shames you.”

"I know what marriage is like, Princess," Aurelia said tightly. "I will be left with the children while my husband shames me with his whores, likely with Lady Misery. I’m well prepared for it."

The older woman gave a small, almost said smile. "You have no mother to tell you these things, so I will," she said, sitting down once more beside Aurelia and taking her hands in her own. "A marriage bed can be a pleasant thing, especially when the husband is willing or a man’s good father has enough power to make certain any cruelties will be dealt with. Your bedding with Daemon and the marriage that follows will not be pleasant."

Aurelia could only nod.

"If Your Highness will forgive me, I would like to lie down — I am feeling ill.”

"Of course,” Princess Rhaenys stood. “I do not say this to be cruel. You should know what your life will be like.”

Chapter Text

April 110 AC

"Have you spoke to Maester Mellos as I requested?" Viserys questioned, his eyes locking with Alicent's over their evening meal. Alicent had requested they have a supper of chicken and lemon, they were her current cravings, and Viserys had found himself unable to refuse her.

"Yes, Your Grace," Alicent responded with a smile, placing a morsel of chicken into her mouth. "He confirmed the midwifes suspicions, I shall be delivered in May or June.”

“Two moons,” Viserys said with a smile. "In just two moons, the gods shall will grant me another son."

Viserys noticed the tightness that came over her face in response to his words but he said nothing of it. As a highborn woman, Alicent knew what was expected of her. Women were oft sensitive in the last stages of pregnancy and she was young still — he could let it slide. 

"I pray to deliver a son everyday,” Alicent smiled slightly. She made no promises, as other women did. She would not promise something she could not be certain of. Too many women did and were faced with not only disappointed, but irate husbands. There was every chance she was carrying another daughter for the king, but it could be a boy still.

"I am sure we will not be disappointed."

Alicent did nothing more than nod her head in response to her husband’s words. What could she say, Viserys expected a son from her, it was the reason he married her. Despite naming Rhaenyra heir, he would still wish for a son. He would still wish for a living son, a healthy boy.

"How are the Princesses?” Alicent questioned suddenly, she could not help but notice the surprise in Viserys' eyes, no doubt he was not expecting her to ask after Rhaenyra and Danae, but why shouldn’t she? Rhaenyra had been her best friend and despite the toddler’s reluctance, she was the only mother Danae would know. It was only natural that she worried for them.

“They seemed well enough when I visited the nursery this morning," Viserys responded with a slight smile. “Rhaenyra planned to take to the skies with Danae today.”

“Is that safe?” She blurted out, fear gripping her heart at the thought of the toddler on the back of a dragon.

"You are sweet, my love." Viserys responded taking Alicent's hand in his own and kissing it. “It is a rite of passage for us Targaryen’s to take to the skies as babes. She will be perfectly fine.”

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Aurelia inhales and counts to ten as Valena moves forward to help her into her dress, numbly going through the motions. 

It was a beautiful dress made of lace and tulle. It’s white, to represent purity and fidelity and the hope of a fruitful marriage. The top half of the dress was stylized as a corset, showing off her waist and pushing up her breasts a little. There were flowers stitched along her chest, trailing down to the skirt and ending by her knee. The skirt was interwoven between lace and tulle, creating a voluminous effect, even though it was quite lightweight in fact. The sleeves started level with her neckline and were gathered at different points throughout her arms, the fabric being so thin her skin could be seen through it.

It’s beautiful, there’s no doubt about it, but it’s not her. She’d have preferred to wear something different, something less elaborate and something that truly felt like it belonged in her body. 

A higher neckline, with lace covering her neck instead of leaving her chest exposed. A straighter skirt that did not flare out. A sleeveless dress instead of having the weird detachable sleeves this dress had. 

Carolei unrolls her hair from its bun and starts separating the tiny braids that were rolled together. Her hair starts falling in small ringlets down her back and afterwards, it is adorned with tiny golden stones, so it shimmers as she moves.

Aurelia releases a breath when Valena and Carolei allow her space to quieten her heart, after one last touch, Valena tracing a small strip of dark red ink in the middle of her lower lip, the Scar of Remembrance, a summon of the old days.

"You are a vision," her father seems on the verge of tears, as he watches Aurelia’s reflection in the mirror.

Lord Adrian stands when another maid comes with Aurelia’s cloak and he picks the cloak with reverence and the maids help him swathe Aurelia’s form with it, the rich cloth covering her shoulders like a heavy blanket.

Even if she can’t see it at the moment, she knows the cloak is the true eye-catching part of her attire. The dress my be beautiful, but it is her cloak which draws the eye immediately.

It was modeled after the cloak her mother had worn to both of her weddings, but unlike the generations of Martell women before her, she’d had a new one made, so it would represent both sides of her heritage. It was made of satin, as maiden cloaks in Dorne often were and had the speared sun of House Martell at the center, with the spear made of cloth of gold and shining against the light. The white and black swans of her father’s house were battling each other near the bottom, their beaks meeting at the spear, a collision of gold that drew the eye.  

"I am so proud of you, Aura. You have the blood of gods and conquerors inside you. The blood of Elenei and Durran, the blood of Nymeria of Ny Sar is flowing through your veins. They will ensure you survive whatever is placed in front of you."

Aurelia nods mutely and they depart for the Sept.

She barely hides her surprise when Qoren shares a few words with her father before departing since the Sept. She had not expected him to give them this, to allow her father to be the one to give her away when he is the head of their house.

Yet, she will not complain and so, she puts her hand in the crook of her father’s elbow, lifting her head with renewed steel in her spine, ready to endure the scrutiny. She can feel a thousand eyes follow her every step, dissecting her from head to toe, but she only stares ahead, only sees Daemon standing at the altar, in red and black, watching her approach him with a small, confident and self-assured smile.

His eyes never leave hers as the Septon ties their fates together, as they speak their vows under the auspices of the Mother and the Father, as his calloused hands cradle her softer ones in his. They swear their oaths to each other, then Daemon moves to remove her cloak and cover her with his, her new shelter.

He resumes his place before her and her heart presses achingly against her breastbone when he leans down and gives her a light kiss, sealing their matrimony.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

As soon as her husband said there’d be no bedding ceremony, she had excused herself, not wanting to stay in the stifling hall for one moment longer. Halfway to her chambers, she realized it would no longer be in her childhood rooms that she’d spend her nights. No, now she’d be in guest quarters with her dragon prince of a husband. 

So she’d turned around and headed to the rooms that had been appointed to her husband. Seeing a pitcher of wine and two goblets, she quickly poured a hefty serving into one and went to stand by the window as she drank, enjoying the desert wind. 

Princess, daughter, sister…those were all titles she had worn with little trouble in this life. Yet, tonight she gained a new one and it was not an easy task. Wife.

Wife to Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince. 

Mother. Soon enough. She knew her duty. And she knew her husband’s reputation. It wouldn’t be long before his seed quickened within her, before her womb was swollen with his child growing inside her. It wouldn’t be long until she held a new child in her arms.

She wonders how it will feel. As Cressida, three children grew inside her womb. Her body nurtured and grew two beautiful boys and one wonderful girl. She wonders if love for her new children will come as easily as it did for Bianca, Isaac and Callum or if she’ll have to learn how to love them. She wonders if she’ll cry herself to sleep because she can’t love her children.

But she can't wonder much more, because the door opens and her husband steps inside, his doublet discarded. He’s wearing only his pants and his tunic, his hair tousled. 

He walks into the room and heads immediately towards the remaining goblet, pouring wine for himself and downing it. 

Hesitantly, she walks towards him. Then he turns to her, pulling something from his pocket and she flinches at the sight of a long metallic blade. A dagger, sharp and deadly. 

"Are you going to kill me?" She asks, eyeing the blade in his hands. Daemon chuckles and steps away from her, sitting at the foot of the bed. "You should at least wait until I give you a child."

He shakes his head. "It's for your reputation," he answers and she sighs, understanding what he means. He means to cut her, to allow her to bleed onto the sheets and provide the onlookers on the morning with something that will exemplify her virginity at her marriage bed.

"That won't be necessary, Your Grace," says Aurelia and he arches a brow. "Despite what you northerners may think, I am still a maid."

"That’s not what my cousin suggested," he shakes his head. "She mentioned your closeness to Aemma’s guard."

Aurelia feels herself blush. "We were close," she admits. "Some would call it love, even. But I didn’t allow things to progress past a certain point. My maidenhead is intact, my lord."

He looks at her as if he doesn't believe her, but he sets his blade on the floor, perhaps choosing to go against his instincts. Daemon stands and walks closer to her, drawing her hand into his own. Aurelia freezes without meaning to and he notices it, a weak chuckle leaving his lips. She doesn’t trust him and he doesn’t trust her, but there is something in his eyes, something akin to longing.

"I'm sorry," she says. "It won't happen again."

"Don't worry," he answers. Daemon removes his hand, letting out a deep breath. "I will not hurt you. Not now nor ever."

She nods and she looks at her hand, at the Valyrian Steel ring on her finger. "I want to do my duty, Your Highness."

He frowns. "Your duty?"

"To be a good wife," she looks at him, shyly raising her eyes. He is very handsome, but he is not Charlie, who could make her laugh well into the night, whose kisses made her toes curl. She was in love with Charlie for half of her first life, but perhaps it is time to let him go. Perhaps to make this marriage work, she has to let go of the past.

Daemon kisses her. She doesn't see it coming and so, she freezes again, eyes wide open. He is frowning, moving his hands to grasp at her neck, and something pulls in her, an instinct that tells her what to do when her mind wants nothing more than to kick him away. She kisses him back.

Chapter Text

Daemon seemed to have taken an interest in her household and summoned a girl from Essos to serve her. So, now not only would she have Marianne and Liane, but also this stranger who she felt she ought to recognize.

She could have put up a fuss, she should have put up a fight, but she had to choose her battles. And if her husband planned to plant a spy in her household, she would let him. Their marriage is too new for her to gainsay him about something so trivial.

Glossy brown hair the color of honey and startling amethyst eyes — those were the first features of the girl that she took note of. High cheekbones and her regal bearing were what she took in next. 

"What is your name?" Aurelia asked, assessing. 

"Keira, Your Highness," her voice was soft and held an accent she hadn’t heard in years, allowing Aurelia to determine with certainty that she was from Essos, likely Lys or Volantis because of her eyes and their association with Valyria.

"Your full name?" She probes and her eyes flickered down to the floor and Aurelia had to fight the urge to sigh. She’d been broken out of that habit in her childhood — in both lives. But she supposed the girl was young, they likely were the same age, and she was heading into a war camp meant to play a spy for a man they called the Rogue Prince. Allowances could be made.

"Keira Vaelys, Your Highness."

Vaelys. That was the last name of one of the Triarchs if she remembered correctly. A Triarch who had a Westerosi paramour. Well, at least the girl would not be in lands completely unknown to her. But that still begged the question of how exactly Daemon had called upon a daughter of a Triarch to serve as his spy.

Aurelia gulped, noticing some new features on the girl, the delicate bone structure she knew intimately chief among them. "Welcome to my household."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Morgan knew from the moment he was ordered to report to his brother's solar that it would be bad. He might be young, and a bit reckless, but he was no fool, and he'd seen the way his brother had been watching him when he was with Laena. Qoren had very definite ideas about who his brother should be associating with and to what degree. A mild flirtation with a noble lady was acceptable, but Morgan's brother was not stupid. He knew things with Laena had progressed beyond that.

It had taken Morgan by surprise. He’d meant to keep his distance, to avoid his crush growing into something more, but suddenly he found her everywhere in Sunspear. Flirting with her was natural, but he hadn't expected it to be more than a little fun for either of them. Which only showed that his brother was right sometimes – he really was a bit of an idiot. He had entered into flirtation with the simple goal of amusement, and had found himself head over heels in love.

He was, however, stunned that it had taken his brother this long to do something about it. He'd first kissed Laena before the wedding, and it was weeks afterward, when they were preparing to leave. He’d thought Qoren was distracted with other matters - he remembered hearing something about there being a border dispute between some of their vassals or something similar.

Now, though, he wished that Qoren was still distracted as Morgan stood in front of his brother, being glared at.

"I told you to stay away from the Velaryon girl," his brother said, his voice low.

"I know, brother."

"You know? Then why is it that I only seem to see the both of you growing closer?"

Because I'm in love with her and you can't change that. He didn't say that, it would only serve to anger his brother further. So instead he remained silent, giving only a shrug as his answer. That wasn't exactly wise, as temper flared in his brother's eyes.

"Can you say nothing to defend yourself?"

Morgan had an idea then, and adopted a casual expression. "I thought I could make her my mistress, but she's stubborn. I guess I'm just intrigued by a challenge."

"Be that as it may, you won’t do that. Any scandal involving you would end up implicating Aurelia and we can’t afford that right now. So, you're going to end it now, or I will end it for you."

His own temper flared and Morgan asked, "Oh? How?"

"I'm sure I can find something for you to do," his brother said carelessly. "Maybe I could send you to Esoss for an extended trip negotiating our trading contracts."

Something snapped inside him. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no," he repeated. "You can’t control me. I’m a grown man. You have no power over me."

Qoren stood up then. "I’m the head of this family, Morgan. Unless you marry an heiress, I’ll always have control over you."

"Then I don’t want to be a part of this family!" He blurted out.

"Is that so?" Qoren asked, voice low. He nodded as his brother opened one of his drawers and took out some papers. "Here are the papers then. Sign them and you can do whatever you want. You’ll no longer be a Martell. You’ll have to rely on your father’s name and on the Swanns’s generosity."

Morgan took the papers and after giving them a cursory glance, signed them, feeling as a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

With a sigh, Daemon stood, downing the remaining wine in a few gulps. The full moon and the thousands of stars made for a beautiful sight, but it only reminded him of where he was and what had happened recently. With one last glance at the hundreds of stars dotting the dark skies, the dragonrider turned to reenter his chamber, intent on trying to get a few slivers of sleep from amidst the endless tossing and turning to come.

With a surprised grunt, he pulled to a sudden stop. His wife was on his rooms, and he didn’t remember calling her to his rooms or doing anything that would give her that impression.

"Husband," she greets and takes a sip of her wine, gesturing to the other chair on the table.

Looking around, he noticed the beautifully ornate bed — no, that isn’t an option — and then looks back at her and the table. 

"You do not need to be here," he sighs. "You can return to your rooms until we leave for the Stepstones."

She bit at her lower lip and the sight sent a jolt of arousal coursing through his body and he felt his cock twitch in his breeches. Why in the Seven hells is the girl making me react like this? Oh yes, you fucked her last night and you liked it you bloody idiot. 

His arm had reached out to Aurelia and he was stroking light fingertips over her right arm, his calloused thumb drawing soothing circles over it. He didn't know how it happened but it did. He was touching her. Again. Aurelia looked first at his hand still drawing light circles over her arm with his thumb, and then her eyes searched his.

"Prince Daemon," she murmurs, and then she’s kneeling on the floor between his legs. 

She’s a lisp of a girl, his new wife. It makes him want to tear the men in her family limb from limb, the fact that they have sent her to do a woman’s job. And, a part deep inside him hates himself, because his body reacts to hers, already hardening at her ministrations. 

He tries halfheartedly to stop her, but she’s unlacing him with deft fingers. "People will expect us to share a bed, they will expect me to become with child. And I…I know we both have needs."

He swallowed, hating how quickly his body responded to her fingers touching his cock. It’s been a long time, he tries to reason to himself. The last time he had a woman was one of the dragon seeds at Driftmark before they traveled to wage war against Drahar. Yet, he’s never wanted non-Valyrian women — dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes have never garnered this reaction from him.

Even so, when Aurelia wrapped those pretty lips around his cock, he made a sound, hips jerking. 

His bride did not flinch, taking him deep in her throat and locking eyes with him while she did so. She licked and sucked until he was so hard he could barely stand it, and then she released him with a wet sound, lips red and shining as she blinked up prettily at him. 

He stood up, fumbling with his pants as they fell to his feet and cursing himself. Aurelia’s deft fingers divested him of his cloak, and shirt, and then she was pulling him to the bed, spreading her legs for him.

He climbed onto the bed, suddenly feeling like a bumbling fool as his leaking cock was folded between them against her stomach, smearing fluid over her delicate nightdress. 

Aurelia moaned loudly and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lithe body flush against his in her eagerness, grinding her hips against his as he pushed down her smallclothes, already dripping with arousal.

His hand rubbed against the bundle of nerves near her opening, making her whimper and moan as she raised her right leg and wrapped it around his waist by digging her heel into the small of his back, pulling him closer to her and guiding his length inside her.

Gods, she feels good. Warm and wet and willing. Very willing; no sooner had he filled her than she wrapped her other leg around his hips, urging him to fuck her. 

He started to jerk his hips into her, thrusting his cock rhythmically inside her tight, wet cunt, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing across their apartments. 

Aurelia was moaning and panting with each of his thrusts into her, her head tipped back against the blankets, eyes closed in pleasure, back arching ever so slightly. The look on her face was one of complete ecstasy and it flung his already deep arousal even higher.

He finished right after her, hips slamming into hers as he spilled his seed with an embarrassingly youthful eagerness. Aurelia rocked her hips against his, as he hovered over her for a moment, uncertain, before he removed himself from her and started dressing.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Rhaenyra had come back from an afternoon spent on the Dragonpit curled with Syrax and decided, almost on the spur of the moment, to visit the nursery and see how her sister was coping with all of the recent changes.

When they walked in, no one, except her Aunt Amanda, paid the slightest bit of attention to her, for Danae was sitting at the table, shrieking and hammering her little fists. The nursemaids were clustered around her, trying to soothe her and reason with her in turns.

"Come now, Princess. Eat up your dinner like a good girl and there’ll be some nice cakes for after, hmm?"

"Please, Princess, hush now. There’s no need to make such a fuss."

"I declare, I’ve never seen such an unholy fuss about such a molehill of a matter. You’ll sit there until you’ve eaten every last mouthful, my girl, and there’ll be no sweet for afters, either."

Danae was purple in the face. She threw back her head and roared in anguish.

As her little sister let out yet another ear-splitting shriek, her aunt silently moved towards her.

"Do you know what all this fuss is about?”

"Danae doesn’t want her dinner. She wants some marzipan.”

As if on cue, Danae yelled, "Machian! Machipan!" and hurled her spoon across the room.

Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, "She thinks temper will get her one, does she?"

"I think she’s still struggling with Aurelia’s departure," her aunt explained, before an almighty crash cut her off. Danae flung her plate to the floor and herself after it.

"Machipan! Machipan!"

"Oh no you don’t!" Rosamund Hightower, her sister’s new governess, moved to pick her up, but Rhaenyra was quicker. Throwing off her aunt’s restraining hand, she ran over to Danae and pulled her close, rocking her in her arms.

"Hush sweetling, it’s all right. It’s all right. You shall have your marzipan. You shall have it. I promise. Just hush. Please, hush. I don’t like you crying. Don’t cry. Don’t."

Her eyes flashed up at Alicent’s aunt, "I thought my father and I had made ourselves clear. My sister is to have whatever she desires. Were those not our orders?”

"Well, yes, my Lady..."

"Then why is my sister, a Princess, screaming for marzipan? She should have been given one the moment she asked for it?"

"But Princess…”

"No buts. You’ll fetch her one. Now."

“Princess Rhaenyra…”

"Now!"

Danae chose this moment to press her flushed face into Rhaenyra’s side.

"Want machian," she whimpered, “Nyra, want machipan!"

"You will have it. it’s on its way. The servants were very naughty not to give it to you the first time you asked for it. Nyra will talk to them. You will have as much marzipan as your heart desires. As much as you can eat. As much as you can eat."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia looked around her cabin, taking in her ladies. Golden haired, sharp Keira. Sweet and witty, dark haired Marianne. Cunning and beautiful Liane.

"Tell me of yourselves," she commanded quietly. "Your ages, where you come from....if you are to be my ladies, my trusted companions then I must know you… as you shall know by now, I am Aurelia Martell Targaryen, wife to Daemon, and daughter to the late Princess Ilaria." 

"I am Marianne, Your Grace," the stormlander lady immediately said, a bright smile appearing on her face. "I love reading, hawking and embroidery. I’m extremely close to my brother so I hope there’ll be some ravens we can use to send our families letters."

Aurelia smiled at her kindly, hoping to make her feel at ease. Her harsh accent was music to her ears, reminding her of those beautiful months she’d spend at Stonehelm as a child. 

"My father is one of the Triarchs behind the Black Walls in Volantis and I’m his only daughter," Keira murmured. "My mother is Westerosi but she has not set foot outside Essos in over twenty years. I learned many skills at their feet and because of my brothers."

"What skills?" Liane pressed, eager.

"Healing and midwifery," she shrugged. "Also how to wield some weapons."

"Well, it’s good to know we have someone with your skillset with us," Aurelia smiled and looked expectantly at Liane.

"Liane, as you know," Liane laughed, clasping her hands in her lap. "I am eight and ten. I grew up with Aurelia in Sunspear before she was sent to court and my parents took me back to Starfall."Seeing that they now looked more relaxed, Aurelia took the chance to leave and allow them to start getting to know each other. "I find myself in need of some air. Please, stay here and continue unpacking what you need for the journey."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia had unexpectedly found herself standing beside Corlys Velaryon not long after she walked to the upper deck. Above them, the dragons of their husband and children flew, both men engaging in acrobatics as they made their way to their war camp, Vhagar flying at a more sedate pace. 

“Can we trust your brother?” The Sea Snake asked, jerking Aurelia from her thoughts. The man wasn’t facing her; instead his eyes were on his children on the backs of their dragons.

“Not completely,” Aurelia swallowed. "If he does act against you, it won’t be soon. But I don’t doubt that he will betray you at one point.”

"Even with you and your brother with us? His only heirs?"

"We’ve never been close," she said simply. "He will hold to the agreement you made, but if a better offer comes, then he will consider it and he is very likely to take it."

Corlys nodded.

"How long do you expect us to remain at the Steps?" She asked, after a pause. She didn’t know their numbers or the numbers of the Triarchy, barely even knew which islands had been conquered and which ones they still had to lay claim to. 

"Perhaps two or three more years."

She sucked in a breath, more because she felt her chest tightening than because of his answer. She expected the next few days to be horrible for her, her magic was unstable, she could feel it crackling inside her, twisting, grasping for something that did not exist. As they sailed closer to the islands, it only got worse.

The First Men crossed the Arm and the Children broke it in retaliation. This was perhaps the place were magic was at its strongest and her body was reacting to it. 

Chapter Text

May 110 AC

The celebrations for their recent wins on the battlefield were the merrier ones they’d had since their war began. It was the first time they’d had such a string of successes and it was enough to lead them to believe the tide was turning in their favor.

Wine and ale and mead flowed liberally and soon, nearly everybody was worse the wear for alcohol.

Including Lady Laena, the Sea Snake’s daughter. Somewhere in her brain, she knew that six cups of ale was really far too much for her, but it was so hard to say no when people, alight with joy, kept handing her drinks and when her many Velaryon cousins lead here out into some dance. Besides, if she ignored the fact that her head was spinning, she felt joyfully reckless. She felt as though nothing could hurt her, not even scandal. After all, her mother was a Princess of the Blood, her father the richest man in the realm and she rode the largest dragon in existence. No one could stand against her.

"Laena, come on. You’ve had more than enough. You’d better come with me."

Morgan had appeared her side. His arms snaked around her waist as he started to pull her gently towards the tents

She turned slowly, sensuously, to face him.

"I don’t —" she began, but then the moonlight hit his dark hair just right and highlighted just how chiseled his jaw was. Gods, he was desirable.

"I want to kiss you," she blurted, wine loosening her tongue until she was unusually candid about her emotions. Morgan looked at her flushed face and pecked her cheek tenderly.

"I’m sure you do, but we’d best get you somewhere safe first."

Laena pouted, but pretended to comply, at least until they were alone.

Then suddenly, as though she could control herself no longer, she lunged, slamming her lips on to his with more force than she even thought possible.

"Laena!" Morgan gasped into the kiss, but he couldn’t resist her passion for long. A few moments later, he was kissing her back, unable to stop himself.

As usual, their hands began to wander and Morgan thought nothing of it at first, at least not until Laena grabbed one of his hands and pressed it between her legs. She had pushed her skirts away so that all she had on between his fingers and her underparts was a flimsy shift. A flimsy shift that was utterly soaked.

A jolt went through him and he straightened instantly.

"Laena, no. I won’t do it. I promised you I’d not to take your maidenhead until we were married. I mean to keep that promise."

"But I don’t want you to! Please, Morgan, please! I probably lost it on one of my many flights on Vhagar already. It’s not like anyone would know. And gods know when we’ll be married. How much longer are we going to have to wait?"

Morgan hesitated. He could see her argument; could see her logic, but a large part of him wanted to respect her honor when she herself so clearly couldn’t.

On the other hand, however, he wasn’t quite sober himself. He had been celebrating their successes as well, after all. And Laena was a beautiful young woman, especially with her eyes flashing indignant fire like that.

When she purred, "You can’t deny you want me, can you?" into his ear, he could resist her no longer.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Daemon tried his best to concentrate on the papers he needed to read and the maps and the battle plans, but he felt tense and restless. He had been so busy that he had barely had time to sleep, not to mention actually spend time with his new wife. That was probably the reason why he was so tense. He needed a good fuck and the last time they’d been together was when they were still in Sunspear, weeks ago.

His body yearned for hers. He needed to have her. That was all he could think about right now, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. Unfortunately he wouldn't have time to spend time in her bed tonight. However, he did have a moment right now. He called for a random squire and told him to find his wife. Thankfully she arrived soon.

"You wanted to see me, husband?”

"Yes," he replied and marched to the entrance of the tent.

Aurelia looked confused when he crossed the pieces of fabric tightly.

"I'm afraid I won’t be able to spend tonight in our tent, but I have a moment right now."

Her eyes widened when he swept her into his arms and lifted her on the edge of the table.

"My lord…"

"This won't take long," he murmured, starting to kiss her neck. He slid his hands towards her skirt and started grasping through the layers of fabric until he could slide his hand under her smallclothes and was touching her.

"My lord, I don’t…"

He barely heard her, he was too busy stroking her clit and kicking off his trousers.

"My lord, stop."

He was still too occupied to hear her; they had time to talk later. Her skirts were already lifted and his cock was hard.

"Stop… Stop!"

His eyes widened when she pushed him and jumped to her feet.

"Aurelia…"

"I am your wife," she stated angrily. "Not a common whore."

He didn't have time to say anything when she marched out, leaving him completely stunned.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Keira finds herself in the makeshift sept after most of the men leave.

She’s never paid much stock to her mother’s gods. She and her siblings were raised to worship R’hollr as most Volantenes, but she grew up seeing her mother pray to her little figurines and going for comfort into the small sept her father built.

To her mother’s dismay, none of her five children had grown to worship the same gods, but they had still learned of the Seven at her knee. And so she knelt beneath the stone-faced gods, even if she did not believe in them. Because being here, she was closer to her mother and that was something she needed.

Tears fell from her eyes as she stumbled through the prayers, cursing herself for not listening at her mother’s knee, for not obeying Aenar and Baelor and Caethan, for not cherishing her childhood and the time with her parents behind the Black Walls. She mourned all that she had lost and hoped the gods would give her some comfort.

"You seem very fond of this little sept, for being Essosi. I keep seeing you come here, I thought your Red Priests teach it’s a place of devils. Isn’t the Lord of Light supposed to be the one true god?”

Keira looks up in surprise. She recognizes the newcomer immediately - a girl of her own age with dark, olive skin and pin-straight black hair. 

“I admit, I never cared for the Seven much, but they are my mother’s gods…” she says with a shrug.  “They make me feel close to her. You’re Liane, aren’t you?”

“Liane Dayne,” she nods. “You’re not going to scold me on lack of proper ceremony?”

"Gods no. Please, don’t even try, come sit with me instead if you want. I’d much rather you keep talking to me like a person, though.”

She nods and sits on a rock beneath the gods, her dark hair falling over one shoulder.  “I can do that. Tell me, how does a war camp compare to your luxuries in Volantis?”

Keira laughs. “Oh, I’d give anything for a warm bath.”

“I miss them as well,” Liane nods, a smile curling at her lips before she turns serious. “Do the men…has anyone…”

“Has anyone propositioned me? No, not yet at any rate. But I have daggers on me, we’re at a war camp at the end of the day still and I’m the foreign girl who came from nowhere.”

"If it makes you feel any better, the men don’t look at me like I’m much better,” Liane sighs. “To them, me being Dornish means I’m little better than a whore.”

“Fuck them,” she says then and Liane bursts into laughter.

It’s never been hard, Keira thinks suddenly, to make friends with people. She doesn’t know if that will work here. But she very much wants it to, she realizes in a rush.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

She sat in a chair, then stood, then sat, then stood again. She eyed the matching silk robes draped over an armchair but was fairly certain her husband would be insulted if she covered herself. He’d been quite clear during the day. He wanted his needs fulfilled. If Daemon walked in to find her covered, he would probably blow a gasket.

She paced some more and poured herself a glass of wine, though only to occupy her hands so she wouldn’t have to decide where to put them when Daemon came in. But no sooner had she sat the pitcher down was their door pushed open, with her husband stepping into the tent carefully.

His mouth fell open and a gleam in his eye intensified. Her heart sped up in response though she knew not why. She was not afraid of him (even if she was nervous about the situation). Aurelia knew somewhere nearby were her own guards. They would not hear their words, but they would come if she screamed for help. The Martell and Swann guards were loyal to her, not to her husband. Moreover, she trusted Daemon not to hurt her. In his own way, he seemed to care for her or at least, he cared for what she and their marriage could do for him.

Daemon walked toward her, and her eyes were drawn down to his body, traveling up from his calves, taking in every muscle he had, his sculpted body making her womanly regions react.

“Aurelia,” he spoke after an eternity. His voice sounded rough.

“Yes, Daemon?” 

No sooner had she spoken that his lips were on hers.

He brought both hands to her neck, gently holding her in place as he separated their mouths and he started pressing kisses down her neck, through her collarbone.

While his lips were on her shoulder, his hands glided down to her chest and his thumbs stroked lightly over her nipples through the nightshift. Another spike of pleasure sent between her legs.

It went on for some time, Daemon’s lips sometimes on her neck, sometimes on her shoulders, sometimes on her mouth, while his hands slid up and down her back or rested on her hips. It felt like an eternity was going by. A very enjoyable eternity. 

“Daemon,” she whispered.

He kissed his way back to her lips then backed away, using a hand to push hair out of her face, “Yes?”

"Keep going," she whimpered, pressing herself closer to him, wanting more.

"This has to come off," he murmured as he tugged at her shift. She smiled and together they undid the laces, allowing it to fall to the floor before she removed his shirt.

With Daemon looking at her like he’s already come twice, she’s wondering if she missed out on something in her first life. If what she’s about to experience something beautiful and undeniable, if this unbearable want inside her is normal.

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June 110 AC

Viserys couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this elated. His heart was pounding on his chest as butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He walked with a new spring in his step, with an air of joy around him.

He had a son! 

Finally, after years and years of waiting, he had a son. Alicent’s screams still had his ears ringing, but what was some ringing on his ears when he now had a son?

He smiled to himself, about to enter his chambers until he heard something echoing though the hallways. 

His hand paused on the door, ears pricking up as he looked at the nursery. He heard sobbing, long heartbroken sobbing.... 

Rhaenyra. Why had he not thought of her? His daughter, Aemma’s daughter. He had been so happy that he had a son that he had not thought of her or little Danae. 

"Damn me," he muttered under his breath, the joy of just moments ago leaving his body. His daughter needed him and he would go to her. 

Opening the nursery door, the weeping was now clear to his ears, scraping, scratching noises that pierced his heart. Rhaenyra was on the floor, sitting against her sister’s crib with Danae on her lap, one hand supporting her sister while the other covered her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs. 

She was unsuccessful.

Rhaenyra’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her body trembling as she drew shallow breaths and attempted to keep a calm façade to not worry Danae. For once, she did not have a braid or any complicated hairstyle and her silver hair fell freely down her shoulders, making her seem younger and more vulnerable.

His poor daughter.

With hesitant steps, Viserys crept towards her, his steps soft on the tiled floor, muffled by his own gentleness and his daughter’s weeping. He knelt down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly she did not turn away, she saw him and threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him. 

"She did it," she sobbed as she clung to his neck. "Alicent gave you a boy." 

"You’re still my heir," he told her. "She could give me a thousand sons, but you will remain my heir. Now, come, Nyra, we have a feast to go to."

"I can't do it!" She wept. "I can’t go in front of the nobles and celebrate Alicent’s son! She…" her voice stuttered as she choked on a breath. "She gave you a healthy son so easily, while Muña tried and tried but couldn’t. All my brothers were sickly and all I’ve heard today is how healthy the babe is… That was all Muña wanted, to give you a healthy son."

Tears stung Viserys's eyes and he drew away from her.

"Your mother gave me many sons. No one can replace her or the babes we lost."

Rhaenyra only continued to weep and he pressed a messy kiss to her forehead before he got to his feet. 

"Don't leave!" She begged, almost like a child and Viserys shook his head, taking little Danae from his elder daughter’s lap. Kneeling once more, he nestled her between them, coaxing Rhaenyra to look at her. 

"I want take Danae and go to Dragonstone," she murmured. "I can’t stay here, Kepa. Not with all the courtiers fawning over Alicent’s son, not with everyone commenting how I will be replaced. I’ll return in one moon, once everything has died down."

"Are you sure?" He asked and she nodded.

"I'm sure." 

Chapter Text

June 110 AC

She hurts; they’d stitched her up neatly enough, Aunt Rosamund had promised, and according to everyone the birth had been very straightforward, but her body hurts. She should be grateful, she supposes. The babe was born living. The babe survived its first night. The babe is healthy and thriving, by all accounts. It has all its limbs and fingers and toes. It is not crippled or deformed in any manner. It can see and hear and breathe and eat. A very healthy boy, everyone said. But Alicent is not blind to the fact that every hour someone comes into her rooms to check on both the babe and her, feeling at their foreheads for signs of fever, checking the rags between her legs for any hint of infected blood.

She hurts quite a lot. It aches awfully between her legs, it hurt even worse when she got up to relieve herself, and the skin of her stomach feels stretched and wrong. Her head hurts as well, all stuffed up and throbbing, and her throat is still raw and hoarse from shouting and screaming in pain. She bathed herself a bit with a washcloth earlier, around her armpits and under her heavy breasts and along the back of her neck, scrubbed her face as red and raw as she could stand, but she already feels filthy again. Her hair is matted and coarse in the braid one of her ladies carefully put it in, and she feels sweat trickle down her back, underneath the clean shift.

The babe keeps feeding, and Alicent stares blankly at the window, listening to the distant sounds of the castle. When she first woke, they’d been ringing the bell above the sept in honor of the successful birth. She imagines they all know by now, anyways, know that both mother and child lived, and that she gave the king his longed-for son. But she doesn’t feel triumphant.

She would feel far, far worse had the babe died, she knows this.

Yet, she cannot say she is happy, either. She looks down at the infant at her breast and feels no flood of warmth or affection or anything beyond vague curiosity and weary acceptance. It as if it were someone else’s child bestowed on her, as if it were one of her cousins, as if she were bound by familial bonds to care for it, but not love it. Well, she is. She doesn’t know if she would feel differently were it'd been a girl, the little Visenya Rhaenyra longed for, if she’d have loved her instantly then. 

The babe stops feeding and starts to mewl. Alicent glances down at it, then adjusts her grip behind its heavy head. “Shh,” she says, voice cracking from strain. “Shh. It’s alright.” What do people say to their children? She forgets. It hurts behind her eyes, too. She rubs at her mouth roughly, then murmurs to the babe, “I’m here, it’s alright. Don’t cry.” Thankfully, the mewling does not rise into full-fledged wails. Alicent hates the screaming most of all. It makes her want to throw something. The babe quiets some, and Alicent watches the tiny eyelashes flutter as it fights against sleep.

She thinks she should hum something, so she hums the Maiden’s Song, although it’s never been a lullaby.

She can’t remember anything but the chorus, so she hums a little more until the babe seems to sleep. Then she lays him down in the cradle carved with flying dragons beside the bed, the same one that served the Targaryens for years and rocks it with a grimace when the babe starts to whine again, until finally there is blessed silence.

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July 110 AC

The heat of the islands is unlike anything Liane has experienced before. She’s dornish, she should be used to the heat. But she’s now realizing it’s one thing to be in a castle, being served upon and another to being in the outdoors at all times. She feels stifled in her skin, and longs for a sharp, cold breeze to whip through her hair and take her away.

Keira doesn’t suffer as Liane does. When Liane voices her discomfort aloud, Keira smiles around a strange fruit, a sharp flash of teeth before she bites into its sweet flesh.

“Essos is hotter sometimes, I’m used to it, sadly,” she explains, licking a droplet of juice from her finger. Liane’s eyes follow the movement. “It is not so torturous as it once was. You will come to like it, I think.”

Liane cannot see herself enjoying it the way Keira does. The days are too long here. She longs for this war to end so she can go back to living in a castle and being waited upon, so at nights, she can sink into the cool bath her handmaiden prepares, so that she may drink water that is unheated. So that she can peel her dresses from her overheated body and be free of the constraint of it all.

“There’s a small lake nearby,” Keira says, as if Liane didn’t know. “It’s not very deep, but it should help cool us down if you wish.”

“It’s a bit too hot today,” Liane protests. “I don’t think I’ll make it all the way there.”

Keira rises, and stretches like a cat. Liane has to look away. “We’ll go together,” Keira says. “Ser Joffrey, please do let the men know to stay away. I’ll be taking a dip in the water, and I don’t want any untoward eyes on me.”

“My lady, surely you need guards —”

“You may guard us just as well,” Keira decides, before he can even finish. She looks every inch a queen, even in the light Essosi gown she’s adopted. She holds out a hand to Liane. “Come, Liane, let’s get you into something more suited for the water.”

Liane hesitates, staring at her fingers for a moment too long before allowing Keira to help her up.

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Her ladies all sat or stood near her, their fashions contrasting, from Marianne’s heavy dresses to Keira’s airy silks. Yet, they were not in silence, simply fawning over her as some ladies kept their households. She’d forged friendships and wanted honesty, thus creating a close-knit group who brought joy to what could often be a dour and lifeless camp.

Four women she kept close to her. Marianne, in honor of her father’s Stormlander blood, a lady from a marcher house as her paternal family. Liane, to keep ties close to her childhood, another dornishwoman. Keira, a forced addition but no less loved, who came from the East and had a surprising, quick wit about her. Lastly, Laena who flitted in and out of her tents as she sought female companionship and who often gave them updates on the war as she had a different perspective due to riding Vhagar.

"They were seized from one of the ships bound for Myr!" Aurelia explained as she gazed over the trunks containing her new treasures "The jewels are Lyseni, I think!" 

"And they are very fine!" Liane exclaimed, eyeing a ruby necklace laid out on a velvet cushion. It truly was beautiful, an intricate silver chain with small rubies across it, before a slightly larger one took center stage. "Tell me," she asked, picking it up with slender fingers. "Do you intend to keep the entirety of the loot of this war, Leah?"

Aurelia grinned to herself, draping a piece of blue silk over golden lace.

"Not entirely, just a large part of it. Now," she picked up the two lengths of fabric and turned to Keira who was reading in one of the chairs, completely absorbed in her book. "Keira, tell me, which do you prefer, the golden lace or the blue silk? I can’t seem to decide!"   

Drawing herself away from her book, the golden haired woman glanced up, eyeing the two choices presented to her for a moment."I do like the blue," she replied after a moment. "However, you would look lovely with that lace." 

"I feel I have an abundance of golden lace, however."

"It looks beautiful on you," Marianne agreed from Liane’s side. "However, I would like the silver lace if that’s alright with you all."

"Keep it," Aurelia called absently, stroking the lace. "Perhaps we could send some of this to Driftmark, Laena. For your mother and cousins?"  

"My cousins would be grateful," Laena said graciously. "My mother would appreciate some blue and red fabrics. For both of her houses."

"I’ll do you one better," Aurelia proposed. "I have some designs I can send with the fabrics."

"That sounds wonderful," Laena paused and then an impish smile took over her face. "Now, it’s just us in here, so tell me, will I be getting a little cousin soon?"

She smiled slightly, placing her hand over her empty stomach. "Hopefully. My husband is eager at night and I do wish for a child, but that is a matter for the gods to decide."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

She listened as the steps moved straight to their tent.

She listened to the barely audible sounds of her husband undressing. She didn’t try to, but in her mind, she saw his bare torso, his muscular arms, the fine dusting of silvery hair on his chest. She’d had scarce few opportunities to admire his body. He was lithe and handsome, a dream for any woman but she felt extremely lonely in this marriage.

She was pulled from her musings when she heard a sound outside of her husband’s nightly routine: footsteps coming towards their makeshift bed.

Aurelia’s heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her ears. He was supposed to go read over battle plans right now, not come into their bed.

There was a draft when the covers were lifted, then a dip that threatened to pull her toward the other side of the bed.

Her mummery of sleep was ruined when a warm, rough hand landed on her upper arm as a kiss was pressed to her forehead. She jerked in response, so she started a new mummery: one of slowly, groggily, coming to consciousness. She made a groaning noise as she rubbed her eyes, then feigned a yawn.

“Husband?” She murmured groggily, extending an arm out to stretch.

His answer was another act that almost made her flinch: his lip pressed against the skin left bare by her nightshift, leaving a trail of kisses through her neck and cleavage.

She felt the lightest graze of his teeth on the shell of her ear and gasped in time with a throb of desire between her legs. A moan left her lips and she jerked her hips as he nibbled on a particularly sensitive piece of flesh.

“Shhhh…” the breath tickled her ear as he pressed another kiss to her skin and she arched her back in response.

Her husband chuckled as he retracted, leaving her cold and wet and wanting all at once.

"Take your clothes off. Don't be shy."

Gods, it was demeaning but she needed release, she had needs that wanted to be fulfilled. And so, she took a deep breath and sat up before removing her nightdress, her hair falling over her arms as she covered her breasts and bare chest self-consciously.

Daemon studied her body, taking in every inch of it. He came closer to her again and ran his fingers through her hair before grabbing her breasts harshly. She let out a surprised moan. "On your knees."

She obeyed and got on all fours, spreading out her legs so he could sink into her. 

"A little more."

She spread her legs wider, blushing, and tried not to look back at him as she did so. "Arch your back a little. Put your head down, in the pillows." She listened to his every command and obeyed carefully. She was positioned in the middle of the bed, holding her legs as wide as she could, her face buried in the mattress. "That's it. Perfect." 

She felt their mattress dip as he let his weight sink into it and she felt warmth as he came closer, his lips leaving kisses through her shoulders, her back arching instinctively so he could reach her neck as his hands started grasping at her body.

They traveled down her body to grip at the swell of her hips as he positioned himself.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Daemon knelt between her legs, guiding his cock over the slick entrance of her core. She was more than ready for him, her arousal shimmering from the inside of her thighs. Slowly, he pressed the tip of his cock into her, earning a gentle moan from her lips.

Her hands gripped at the sheets, hips rising to meet Daemon's firm pressure. She wanted all of him. "Eager girl," he whispered to her as his arm came to prop himself over her. His cock teased her entrance, never going further than the first inches. "You want me inside you?" This earned a rapid nod and fueled Daemon's ego. His cock pressed further into her, her tight walls stretching out to accommodate his size. A groan of pleasure left his wife, Daemon slowly pumping in and out of her now.

Soon, his cock was deep inside her, pounding at her limit. His pace quickened. He thrust into her, over and over until his cock twitched and unleashed his seed deep into her eager womb. He stayed in place, rocking lazily against her, not willing to let a drop of his cum slip out of her. He let his hand drop to where they joined and traced his fingers lightly over her until he felt the tell-tale group of nerves and started stroking it. She twitched and rocked her hips against him until she let out a small moan and collapsed, turning her torso around as he slipped out of her.

Breathless, his wife smiled up at him.

This better have resulted in a child, he thought as he slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter Text

September 110 AC

Night had fallen by the time Morgan finally returned to the camp.

She saw him after a moment, he seemed to be exchanging more heated words with Vaemond and she sighed heavily and began to amble over to them. It really wasn't her place to interfere but Morgan really didn't need any more conflict in his life. As she reached them, her uncle bowed shortly to Morgan before storming away. She lay her hand on the back of Morgan's arm then and he turned to look at her, his eyes unreadable before he curled his own hand around her wrist and pulled her into his tent. Before she could say a word his lips crashed against hers and his hands were snatching at the lacings of her dress, pulling them furiously to unthread them. She clung to his shoulders, kissing him back with everything she had inside her as he practically dragged her dress from her shoulders and allowed it to fall heavily to the floor. He pulled away from the kiss, breathing hard as his hands tugged up her shift, pulling it right up and over her body to leave her bare in front of him.

Laena moved back towards the mattress with its mountain of furs and pillows, sinking into it, stretching her body out for his view, his eyes not leavings her as she waited breathlessly for him. He pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his hard, muscular chest to her. She could stay still no longer, shifting up onto her knees and crawling towards the foot of the bed. He breathed deeply as her hands came to his chest, her fingers swirling patterns in the sprinkling of dark auburn hair that spread across the broad expanse. She let her fingers trail lightly downwards then, following the path of hair that led beneath his breeches. He was hard already when she let her hand seek underneath the leather and a groan left his perfect lips as she stroked his length lightly. As always he could never stand her teasing for long and she was unsurprised when his hands came to her shoulders and shoved her back onto the bed.

He loomed above her then, the look in his eyes almost predatory as he crawled up between her legs that she spread ever so willingly for him. The heat between them was like the fire in her blood, like the restless waves inside her soul and a soft moan left her mouth as he ran his hands up her thighs, his thumb dipping between her legs and causing her to arch her back up into him. She moaned more loudly as he began to move his fingers against her in an agonizingly slow way. Her hips bucked up of their own accord and she could have sworn he chuckled lightly as he kissed and nipped his way down her neck, one of his fingers slipping inside her. 

She was aching for him. Craving him. She needed to feel all of him inside her, to be one with him as they were meant to be. When she was one with him she could delude herself into thinking that she would somehow get to keep him forever. When they were joined she could forget that one day they would be parted for good.

Thankfully Morgan soon stopped his teasing, his finger slipping from her and his hands moving to unthread the laces of his breeches. When he came free she wrapped her legs up high around his waist and he had pushed into her in an instant, a groan leaving his own lips and she cried out loudly. She lifted her own hips to meet his pace, reveling in the sound their flesh made together. His hands were everywhere, setting her skin aflame and she could feel her skin heating up, feel the beads of sweat across her forehead and between her breasts.

When she let her fingers trace down his spine he arched into her, a loud groan of pleasure leaving his lips as he buried himself deep inside her again. She lifted her legs up higher, pressing her feet against his bottom, her toes curling in pleasure as her movement allowed him to touch somewhere magical. Each thrust now had her seeing stars and she could barely breathe, her stomach tied in knots. She craved the release but at the same time she didn't want it to be over.

Morgan's hand trailed up the valley of her breasts, his palm sliding easily against her sweat slicked skin. He was toying with her breast, squeezing it firmly in his hand, massaging the tender flesh and making her head spin even more. Her nails pinched into his biceps as she felt herself coming undone. He could feel it too, she knew he could as he buried his head into the crook of her neck to stifle his own sounds of pleasure.

One more rock of his hips sent her flying, every pore of her body tingling as she came. Her body sagged limply against the pillows as Morgan twitched to his own end inside her, his heavy weight collapsing against her in the next moment and knocking what little breath she had left out of her. She didn't mind though, she liked feeling his weight against her, she liked being caged under his body, knowing that she was completely at his mercy. Her body was still trembling as she came down from her release and she didn't have the strength to protest when Morgan shifted away from her, his length coming from her and separating them again. He flopped down next to her with a satisfied sigh and she couldn't help the tiny, triumphant smile that adorned her lips as she rolled onto her side and pressed herself up against him. His strong arms encircled her at once as she draped a leg between his and placed a kiss to his chest. He turned his head and pressed a kiss of his own to her forehead in response and she sighed happily, feeling perfectly content in his arms.

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Keira was lacing her up into her dress that morning when she giggled.

"What is it?" Aurelia asked, already annoyed even though it was very early in the day.

However, instead of answering, Keira dropped the laces and cupped Aurelia’s breast, making her wince in pain.

"The dress won't close and your breasts are bigger," Keira said as she let go of her breast. "I think you're with child, my lady. Daemon will be delighted!"

"When was the last time you bled?" Liane asked from her spot on the other side of the tent.

"Eight, nine weeks ago?" She honestly couldn’t remember, even if she had noticed that her bleeding hadn’t come in the last month. But considering the stress she was under, she hadn’t exactly worried about it.

"There are some ways we can find out for sure," Keira murmured as she started lacing up her dress again. "But I’d say you’re with child."

A grin started to form on her face as she slowly brought a hand to her midsection. "We won’t say anything just yet, do you hear me? I want to be sure before we tell Daemon."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Standing sentry in a nursery was never work a knight would admit to enjoying, however,  as the late Queen’s shield and the youngest princess’ guard, it was his duty to ensure the care of the royal family.

The laughter of children draw his attention to the cots in the room. The laughter of the eldest Princess followed. She was holding out a noisemaker over the cot with one hand while her other was wrapped around the girl sitting on her knee.

He was close enough to hear her speak. “What do you say, Danae, does he seem to like the toy?”

The Princess, old enough to understand some of the words, smiled at her sister and pointed to herself. “Toy!”

“Yes, sweetheart, you had one just like it while we were on Dragonstone.”

A smile tugged at his lips. He had been worried once. Now the need to be concerned about her seemed like such a foolish one. Rhaenyra could be spoiled and bratty, but she seemed to have grown during her time at Dragonstone. She returned to court full of good intentions and kindness, ready to be as good of a sister to Aegon as she was to Danae.  

Thinking of the prince brought to his mind the boy’s mother, the realm’s new queen. Despite his best efforts, he could not fight a grimace.

Now, where was she? If Princess Rhaenyra made the effort to be here, so should she. Rhaenyra visited the nursery daily, sometimes more than once and often took Danae to her rooms at night. If she could act in that way towards her sister, then where was the queen? She should be paying attention to her son. 

Mind made, he clears his throat.

The Princess turns around. “Yes, Jamie?” She looked at him, concerned. She always seemed to know if something troubled him. He imagined it was something she learned at her mother’s side. Had his mind not been no discomfited he would have smiled at the thought.

“Is Queen Alicent well?”

Her eyes widened and he hesitated. He is too experienced a man to have erred in such a way. He should have not spoken to her on the subject of the queen.

After a moment, she replies. “She is.”

“Shall I know to expect her in the nursery today?” There were no events planned for that day, nor any in the near future that could be taking up her time. Watching Princess Rhaenyra with the prince does not sit right in his mind when the boy’s mother rarely chooses to be here.

For a moment, Rhaenyra hesitates. Then, “I believe she means to come later tonight.”

Her words meant to be soothing, but, they were not to him. While it was good of the Princess to make the Queen’s excuses, her words only manage to unsettle him further. He does not hold the same hope the Princess seems to.

He takes a breath and reminds himself of his vows not to judge. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He tries to fight a flush at her approving nod. Though he knows she will forgive him this impropriety, he is too old to embarrass himself like this in front her.

When he sees the Princess return to entertaining the young occupants of the nursery he tells he tells himself he should be grateful the realm had at least one conscientious royal.

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Days after Daemon’s return from a scouting mission, Aurelia had her ladies dress her in of her many new nightgowns, admiring the Myrish lace detail once more as the beautiful fabric fell over her skin. It was one of the many nightgowns Carissa had made for her and it fit her perfectly, as the seamstress had promised. Draping a heavy velvet robe over it and tying the belt around her waist, she retrieved the jar of ointment she had taken from Keira along with fresh bandages and set out for her husband’s war tent.

When she arrived she found Daemon seated around the table, attended by some members of House Velaryon. They were engaged in a game of cards and upon her entrance the two men rose to their feet. 

“Your Highness.”

“My lords,” she acknowledged them in return, walking over to where Daemon was seated. “Apologies for interrupting, husband.” 

“Daeron and Corwyn should thank you,” he replied, bringing her hand to his lips. “I was in the middle of robbing them blind tonight.” 

“I hope you’re not letting the Prince win,” Aurelia scolded half-heartedly. 

The two men laughed somewhat uneasily and shook their heads. Aurelia glanced at the cards laid on the table and then at those Daemon held in his hand. She plucked one of the cards and tossed it into the pile on the table. 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, kissing his hair.

“I was going to play the same,” Daemon asserted as he watched her move to sit in one of the empty chairs. 

“Your Highness,” Daeron said. “Should you wish, Corwyn and I will cut our losses and leave you and the Prince in peace for the night.” 

“Nonsense,” she replied. Aurelia caught Daemon’s eye as she laid the jar of ointment on a the table. “As long as my lord husband would like to continue to play, I can wait if he does not mind my company.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

Despite her willingness to wait, less than an hour had passed before Daemon decided he was ready to take his leave of his fellow soldiers for the night. When they had left, he poured himself a cup of ale and joined Aurelia by standing next to her. 

“If I wasn’t winning, I would’ve sent them away much sooner,” he said. 

“Be sure that I get my cut for the hand I won for you.” 

“Hmmm, what’s this?” Daemon asked. He picked up the jar and opened it, bringing it up to his nose to sniff at it. 

“We need to change the dressing on your wound.” 

He frowned at that. 

“If you prefer I can send for one of the maesters to do it for you instead of me.” 

“Ah no, that’s quite alright.” 

“Sit,” she nodded to the chair opposite hers. 

She stood and took off her cloak, smiling as she saw his reaction and tossed it to the side as Daemon removed his shirt. Unwinding the old bandage she stooped to inspect the wound and to ensure that it was healing with no sign of infection.

“I’m sorry to say that it probably would’ve been healed already had we not opened it up again the other night,” Aurelia observed as she touched the area around it and monitored his reaction for tenderness. 

“We? I was just lying there. You opened it up.” 

“You were not just lying there. You were holding me up atop you.”

“That doesn’t count.” 

“Yes, it does!” 

“If you say so. I know better than to argue with you.” 

“You only say that when you know I’m right.,” she laughed slightly. “Now hold still for a moment so I can tie this new bandage into place.” 

She wrapped the fresh bandage around him and tied it off, pulling it into a tight knot so that it would not move in the night. When she had finished he reached for her hand and she allowed him to gather her close to sit upon his knee. 

“Thank you,” he said, resting his chin against her shoulder. “I much prefer you over any of the grey rats.” 

“You’re welcome,” she smiled and brushed her nose against his. “Not all of the maesters are rats though. We had a good one at Sunspear. You should meet them before judging them.”

“My little counselor. You’re right. Mayhaps I should have you attend my war councils as well.” 

“Your comrades would hate that, I think,” she said, clicking her tongue. 

“And?” 

“You need to keep them happy if you’re to win this war and the islands for yourself,” she chided.

The hand that had been on her wrist traveled up her arm and caressed her cheek as delicately as she’d only ever been touched by her mother. The hand retraced its path then went further – over her hip and thigh, his callouses snagging on the fine material.

She was acutely aware that he was becoming aroused by having her pressed against his groin, or perhaps from stroking his hand up and down her body.

The hand continued to traverse her body while the other one stayed firm yet gentle against her lower back, supporting her weight. 

She brought her right hand up to brush softly against his scruff and closed her eyes at the same moment she brought her lips to his. It seemed to take him by surprise which made her fear he didn’t appreciate her boldness, but when she pulled away his mouth followed. His hand came up to her neck and held her there, pressing his lips against hers and tilting his head so he could open his mouth and then use his tongue to coax hers open, too.

She loosened her hips slightly and fell more onto him, groaning as she felt him through the fabric. She broke the kiss to fumble with the laces of his breeches and he took the same opportunity to pull down the laces of the nightgown and free her breasts as their lips returned to devouring each other. 

“Oh!” She squealed when she was suddenly being lifted and carried. Daemon sat her on the table and immediately put himself between her thighs, though he hadn’t stopped kissing her for more than a heartbeat. He pulled her hips until her center was pressed against him, except now that her legs were spread, she could really feel him. 

With one quick motion, he was inside her, holding her up so their eyes would meet. As he moved inside her, she felt her pleasure building but not quite being fulfilled and realizing that in her position, with her body so tense, she would not be able to peak. She leaned back and marveled at her husband’s gentleness as he took over the act of lowering her down until her shoulders were against the table’s hard surface.

“I want to fuck a babe into your belly,” he stared into her eyes as he spoke the words, wanting her to know how much he meant them. She only stared back at him and smirked, sliding down so he’d be deeper inside her.

They held on to each other closely, Daemon hissing his pleasure as she felt how his heart was beating hard and fast in his chest while they were pressed so close together.

Their coupling was so desperate, so powerful she could feel her release coming upon her hard and fast 

"Take me flying tomorrow," she murmurs against his shoulder as they come down from their highs.

Chapter Text

The next day, Daemon watched as Aurelia walked over to him and Caraxes. She wore the riding leathers he had commissioned before leaving Dorne, aware that she could end up having to ride a dragon in the Steps and how uncomfortable it could be for her if she had no leathers available and tried to fly wearing a dress. 

They were nothing ostentatious, made in black and different shades of brown, but he has to truly focus on dampening his desire as his eyes rake over her and he realizes that the design used makes it so the leathers cling to every curve and dip of her skin. A smile tugs at his lips as he sees she has knives strapped to her sides and how her hair is bound in a tight braid, clinging to her skull. Watching as she approaches is hypnotizing in a way and he is entranced by her. He did not marry a princess made to be kept in a tower and wait to be saved. She may not be a Visenya, but she isn’t a Rhaenys either. She’s more of a Rhaena or an Alysanne.

As Aurelia neared Caraxes, her pace slowed. Finally, she stopped a good distance away from the Blood Wyrm. "Don’t worry about Caraxes," Daemon yelled out. "He can smell me on you." He will not eat his master’s mate.

More bravely, Aurelia approached the dragon, and stroked the scales of his face, Caraxes letting out an appreciative purr. She then made her way to the beast’s back, where Daemon sat on a saddle. He extended a hand and pulled Aurelia onto the saddle, using a leather cord to wrap her to his chest. 

"Ready?" 

"Yes."

With a crack of his whip, Caraxes took flight. Daemon could feel, rather than hear, as she took a sharp intake of breath and tensed, leaning into his body as if seeking protection. It felt good.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Her legs are already sore, a pleasant reminder of the exhilaration of the journey, when they arrive at their first destination, a ruined holdfast in Nymerion. She removes her veil and gloves before they both take off their cloaks and jump into the sand, hurrying to find a cool patch of ground in the shadow of an old courtyard.

"Do you think it beautiful, my lady?" Daemon asks as he splits an orange and shares it between them.

"Yes, and sad."

"Sadness often goes hand in hand with beauty," he muses. "Come, let me show you the designs on the walls."

He tugs her by the hand through the arches of rooms and past fallen columns. 

Daemon ducks down and rubs the sand away from the floor and she sits beside him, uncaring of the sand that coats her light riding habit.

"Do you see?"

"An elephant?" She asks, tilting her head. "Have you ever seen one?"

"Yes," he nods. "I saw many strange animals while I was in Essos."

He settles back against a column and she shifts so she is leaning against him. The winds blow gently through the ruins, swirling up shapes and sifting fine layers of sand.

They make camp in a small, inner room with high windows and a smooth statue that might have been the Maiden once. The nights are cold, so she huddles her body next to his, breathing in the hot smell of his body as she drifts to sleep.

They set off before the sun rises across the dry lands towards the another small island, one of the many of the Tears of the Children, shivering on Caraxes until the day warms. Once there, Aurelia waits in a grove of lemon trees while Daemon approaches the river to fill their water flagons. She takes a lemon from a tree and scratches it against the bark to release its perfume, holding it close to her body in an attempt to get rid of the odor from travel and sleeping outdoors.

They trek towards the hills, stopping for a night in a grove of thin sun-bleached trees that look like bones under moonlight. Daemon sees her uncertain looks and he has her stare up at the stars instead, starting a game where they compete to see who can name the most, the both of them making half of them up but sounding ever so convincing with the stories they conjure from the air.

They sleep under the stars and she wakes with a dry mouth to see dawn spreading its fingers across the sky and turns over to watch Daemon, who is for once still sleeping. He looks younger in repose, but he still looks older than her, even if extremely young in comparison to his brother. She reaches out a finger cautiously and strokes it down his chest, feeling as if she is caught in a trance, and then his eyes snap open and immediately soften when he sees her, and he catches her hand and kisses it.

"You have caught the Rogue Prince asleep," Daemon drawls as he wakes. "You are a dangerous woman."

They kiss for a little while, and he seems eager for more, but she stops him and hands him some stored meats and bread, eager to start the day.

They climb the hill slowly, stopping to rest and eat in the shade of outcrops. The air gets cooler the higher they get but the sun brighter. The view from the top when they reach it is extraordinary, they can see across the dry lands towards the thin line of the river beyond, and behind them the taller peaks of the northern mountains far in the distance, hazy with heat and topped by clouds.

Daemon always looks princely but here, hands on hips at the top of a hill, he looks like the king of all the land he surveys.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she says, talking about the hill, but finds she means the Stepstones as a whole.

"Thank you for coming with me," he says, and kisses her cheek, and she knows he has caught the true meaning of her words.

They find a seat on a low slab of rock and her body slumps in tiredness.

"This is the highest hill I have ever climbed," she says. "There are very few hills to climb near Sunspear and very few are appropriate for children."

"On Essos, I saw mountains with the base surrounded by sand, whose tops are peaked with snow. Many boys who lived nearby would climb it to signify they left boyhood behind, that they became men. It’s a dangerous climb, precarious edges, many dangerous peaks spread throughout."

"Did you approach it on your travels?" She asks, knowing he’s spent his fair share of years on Essos, eager to know about them, even if he’s barely mentioned them. "Did you climb it? Or did you have Caraxes fly you to the top?"

"I attempted the climb, but Caraxes had to save me halfway through. We dragons are not made for the cold."

"How long were you away from Westeros?" She asks, turning to watch his face.

"In total, perhaps four or five years. I came back frequently, to see Aemma and Viserys, to spoil Rhaenyra, to remind the court I was heir and to plead for the annulment of my marriage."

After resting, they make their way slowly down the hills, calling for Caraxes at the midpoint and carefully climbing onto his back. Storm clouds form as they fly, so Daemon guides the wyrm to another of the Tears, where they find shelter in a large cave just before the rains come fast and heavy. She and Daemon stand by the mouth of the cave, letting the cool air brush against their bodies, stretching their hands out to catch water from the curtain of rain.

They make beds further back inside the large cave after Caraxes makes his nest and soon they have a fire and then they sit and wait for the evening. She busies herself by giving affection to the cantankerous dragon, finding that he loves scratches as he purrs from her attention. Daemon seems confounded by it, but sighs and says his dragon is attention-seeker.

Over dinner Daeron sings a song his mother used to sing to him, a song passed down from parent to child that came from Old Valyria. She lies back on Daemon as she listens, as he feeds her cheeses and dried fruit from his plate, feeling drowsy and indolent. She curls up next to him when they sleep near the fire, waiting until she feels his arms reach around her before she drifts into slumber.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

High noon found the couple sleeping, Caraxes’s wing providing them with welcome relief from the sun at the mouth of the cave. When Daemon awoke, he found Aurelia snoring peacefully, her head resting in his lap.

She was a comely thing. Daemon promised himself that the next time they lay with one another, he would be gentler. He ran his fingers through her hair, and then traced the necklace she wore.

Aurelia’s eyes opened, and for a moment the pair stared into each other’s eyes.

"This necklace," Daemon said slowly, tracing the stone it held, so similar to the one he had seen in other jewelry she owned. "The stones. Why do you care for them so much?"

Aurelia reached for Daemon’s hand, cupped it with hers, and brought it to her cheek. For a moment she thought, and then she answered. "For the same reason you love your Valyrian steel and your Valyrian swords."

Daemon scoffed. "Your myths are simply myths, Aurelia. There is no storm god, no Mother Royne, nor Elenei or Durran."

"That’s not the point," Aurelia whispered. "The faith of the Rhoyne, the Storm and Wind gods, it’s all part of my culture, my legacy."

"And you think that legacy is equal to the Valyrian one?"

"Yes," Aurelia laughed at Daemon’s indignant expression. "Valyria’s culture is a noble one. But so is mine. My parents joined together their cultures, that of the Andals and the Rhoynar. I know you may consider it inferior, but it is not. Nymeria led her people to Dorne, for safety away from persecution by the Valyrians. The Andals came to Westeros and overran the First Men." After a moment, she added, "I am sorry that I am not Valyrian. But our children will still be so. What else could they be, with you as their father? A man full of the blood of Old Valyria?"

"And a Dornishwoman for a mother."

"A woman of Andal and Rhoynish descent," she corrected. "I am of both my parents, not simply my mother. And, yes, I will be your children’s mother. Will you love them less for it?"

"No," Daemon murmured. "I care for you. I would love your children as my own." 

"If they hatched a dragon, or claimed one of those roaming on Dragonstone, would you teach them to fly?"

"Of course!"

"Then in what way will our children not be Valyrians? They will have the blood, they will have the dragons. The only place they will not be Valyrian is in your mind."

Daemon didn’t answer, and instead leaned over and pressed his lips to Aurelia’s forehead.

"Very well, Aurelia. Our children will be Valyrians. And Andals and Rhoynish."

Aurelia smiled.

Chapter Text

December 110 AC

As she lay in the dark, Daemon's arm around her waist, Aurelia put a hand to her belly, tears slowly gliding down her cheeks. She dared not wake her husband, did not want to worry him with troubles of her own but ever since she had told him of her pregnancy, almost three months prior as they explored the islands, her nights had been filled with naught but anxiety. 

She did not know what had brought this fear to light, to the forefront of her mind where it resided during the dark hours of the night but she was terrified it was a warning from the gods. That they were trying to warn her.

Over and over she began to relive Baelon’s death, remembered how weak he felt during those three days, the sound of his little breaths, his face pale as he fought to stay alive.

She was afraid, terrified that she or the babe would die. She feared that without magic or modern technology, the birth would be tragic.

What if this was a warning? What if all these fears were a true warning that death was to come....that her babe would not survive. She knew in her heart she could not bear it, she could not survive losing a child.

Perhaps she was never meant to be a mother, her mind would suggest, but she was quick to push the thought away. 

In an instant she bolted into an upright position, Daemon jerking awake with her sudden movement.

"Aurelia?" He asked hurriedly, though still trying to fully wake, taking her face gently in his hands and frowning when he found his palms wet with tears. "Aurelia, what’s the matter?" 

"Nothing," she whispered with a shake of her head. "It's nothing, Daemon, truly. Go back to sleep. I was just thinking about the babe."

The Prince looked rather unconvinced at her explanation but could tell that then was not the time to press for a true explanation and so simply gathered her into his arms, pressing soft kisses to the damp trails left by her tears on her skin. 

"All will be well," he told her as she trembled slightly against him, trying to keep her breathing in check. "You and our child shall be well."

Aurelia merely nodded mutely, wrapping her arms around Daemon's neck so that she could press herself gently against him, the need for his warmth almost overwhelming her. Closing her eyes, she tried to push away her remaining tears and focus on the steady beat of her husband's heart, hoping that would soothe her mind. 

Though, she knew, that her fear would only return come morning, most likely more daunting than ever before. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Liane feels undressed in Keira’s borrowed Pentoshi dress— in truth it feels more like a slip or a chemise than a dress — but she cannot deny that it’s more comfortable than the clothes she’d been trapped in since arriving here moons ago. She sits on the edge of the small lake while the Velaryon siblings and Keira splash about, and finds herself smiling at the sight. Keira does look like part of the family in some lights. From what she knows of Princess Rhaenys, it would be easy to think Keira simply takes more after her mother. She hasn’t summoned up the courage to ask after Keira’s parents, to know if her suspicions are correct, but moments like this make her certain she’s right.

She yields willingly as sleep calls to her, the cool water lapping at her feet pleasantly and wide brushing at her hair. 

She isn’t sure how long it’s been when Keira wakes her, dragging her fingers softly down Liane’s arm. 

"There you are," Keira whispers, and her expression is almost soft. "Laena and Laenor returned to camp. I stayed to give you a few more minutes of sleep, but we really must return now. The sun’s about to set."

Keira’s hair shines in the late afternoon sun, enhancing her beauty.

"Thank you," she says finally, mouth dry. Keira’s hand hasn’t left her shoulder. She traces idle patterns in the freckles of Liane’s skin, eyes hungry.

Keira has done this dance with Liane for moons now, this game of barely-there touches and looking, of letting eyes roam and heat follow. Liane’s not sure what this is, but she thinks Keira wants to have her.

Sometimes, Liane is inclined to let her.

Liane stifles a gasp when Keira leans down and replaces her fingers with her tongue, a phantom touch that traces an invisible line only Keira can determine. Immediately, Liane stiffens.

"Relax," Keira murmurs against Liane’s shoulder. "Shh, relax."

But Liane can’t. She can’t breathe, she can’t move. She can’t open her mouth and demand to know what Keira is doing, salvage this situation, pretend it never happened. Instead she stays still, blood rushing in her ears, as Keira presses another kiss to her skin. This time, there’s a bite of teeth.

"Liane," Keira says, and suddenly all of Liane’s muscles loosen at once with a shudder. She can feel Keira’s satisfaction, wants to moan, tell her more, please, more but this is wrong, this goes against everything she’s been taught and she must stop it.

But she can enjoy it for a moment and decides to wait, breathless, and see what Keira will do. She will have to stop at one point and they will laugh about it.

Keira does not stop or laugh. 

Keira’s fingers come up to the laces of Liane’s dress, tug at the strings and Liane suddenly finds her voice, weak as it is between rapid breaths. "Keira, please, the soldiers —" but Keira pinches her nipple through the fabric, and Liane has to bite back a moan.

"They’re far away," Keira assures her, and suddenly her mouth is at Liane’s neck, knee between Liane’s knees."They won’t hear a thing, if we’re quiet."

Liane can be quiet. Her fingers dig into the stone beneath her and she presses her lips closed.

She can’t help a small noise, though, when Keira takes a handful of her skirt and pulls it up past Liane’s knees. 

Keira’s mouth is hot on Liane’s jaw, and she feels scorched. Deep in her core, a fire is building, and Liane wants to let it consume her. 

When her hand lands on Liane’s thighs, insistent and warm, she remembers herself and pulls her legs shut.

"Keira," she murmurs lowly. "Keira—stop a moment, let me think."

For a moment, Liane’s chest is gripped with fear — perhaps Keira, just like so many men, won’t stop, won’t listen to her. But the fear is unfounded. Keira simply lifts herself up off Liane and hovers, looking down at her. Her hair has fallen out of its knots, and it floats softly down on either side of Liane, a curtain of gold. Through the strands, Liane can see the sun shining.

Keira’s gaze is hungry when she regards Liane, who is breathing hard and feels undone. The laces at her breast are untied, her skirts rucked up around her thighs, her hair probably a mess against the sand. Liane doesn’t think she’d make a lovely sight, but the way Keira is looking at her… she must look like a Lyseni goddess by the way she looks at her.

"I can make it good, Liane. Better than you’ve imagined."

"How do you know what I’ve imagined?" Liane challenges. "How do you know I won’t just leave now and tell Aurelia what you’ve done? How you tried to besmirch my honor."

Keira grins her slow, predator’s grin. "I don’t," she says. "And you don’t either. I suppose we’ll have to trust one another."

And so, when Keira’s knee slides up to press against her center, she lets her, puts a shaking hand in Keira’s curls and pulls her down for a tentative kiss.

Keira doesn’t do anything slowly, it seems. She deepens the kiss immediately, finishes untangling the knots in front of Liane’s dress before pushing the cloth aside and leaving Liane’s breasts exposed to the air. Liane pulls out of the kiss, gasping, while Keira moves her hands down, under her skirts to where Liane had — not realizing it —been rocking against her knee. 

"Gods," Liane cries out softly and Keira’s other hand has to cover her mouth to stifle the noise. She tightens her hold on Keira’s hair, and screws her eyes shut. She can’t look, can’t look at what’s happening, or she’ll remember that they’re outside and the soldiers can stumble upon them at any moment and—

Keira’s fingers circle Liane’s clit, and Liane wonders if perhaps her fingers are the only things tethering her to this world. She can’t feel anything other than the soft press of Keira’s fingers into her, the circling, the way Keira’s hand tastes under her lips — salty and sweet, like tangerines and strawberries — and the press of Keira’s heat against her thigh. The way she feels exposed and how that adds to the urgency of how Liane moves against her.

It could be a year, or a minute, or an hour before Liane’s back arches against the ground and she peaks. She’s glad for Keira’s hand against her mouth, though she wishes it had been her lips instead, soft and welcoming.

She catches Keira’s wrist when she’s done, and pulls it away shakily. 

Surprisingly, Keira twists her hand around, so she’s the one holding Liane’s, and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

Liane can’t help it. She feels the flush begin at her throat and stain her cheeks. Even with what they just did, what Keira did to her...this feels more intimate than it all.

Keira sits back and Liane realizes that while she’s nearly undressed, with the top of her dress gaping open and her skirts rucked up around her waist, Keira is, in contrast, fully clothed. Her hair is wild from where Liane has pulled at it, but otherwise, she could walk back into the camp and no one would be the wiser.

She makes a movement to cover herself, but Keira shakes her head. "Look at me," she says, her voice a quiet command. "I want to remember this."

Liane watches as Keira’s eyes roam every part of her, from her hair strewn about her to the way her chest rises and falls.

"Why?" Liane asks, when she can speak without her voice shaking. "Why did you—"

Keira’s green eyes flash when they meet Liane’s. "Because I wanted to," she murmurs. "And I think you wanted me to."

Liane thinks that’s a good reason.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm," the herald announces as the doors to the Great Hall open. Viserys walks into the court, stronger than ever and looking more like their father than ever before.

As the King passes them, Rhaenyra, Danae and Rhaenys all sink into a deep curtsy in perfect synchronization, staying in position until they’re told to rise. Danae looks up at her older sister for approval and the heir to the throne sends her a smile, proud that her young sister has been acting so well during court sessions. It’s carefully staged theater, presented to show that the Crown Princess and her full-blooded sister have the support of their Velaryon kin and their aunt — the Queen Who Never Was — despite the fact that their stepmother gave birth to a son.

Rhaenys will soon leave again, she’s only at court because she had brought news from the war camp in the Stepstones. Before the end of the sennight, she will return to administer Driftmark in the absence of her husband as he wages war in the Stepstones with his children and her uncle.

"You may rise," he says once he is seated on the Iron Throne. One by one, they rise, Rhaenys being the last one.

"The past few years have been filled with tragedy and joy alike for my family," Viserys says. "And I am glad to say that the royal family will continue growing. I am happy to say my brother, Prince Daemon, took the Princess Aurelia Nymeros Martell of Dorne as his wife not six moons past. And in the letter he informed me of the marriage, he also let me know his wife is now swelling with their child."

A burst of whispers breaks out. Rhaenyra looks over to where Alicent stands, a look of shock on her face. The High Septon, who is slowly making his way over to where the king is, looks quite visibly angry.

"Your Grace, with all due respect, the Prince is already married. It is blasphemous for him to have taken a second wife," the fat man states. "That marriage is not valid and any children born would be illegitimate."

"That would be true," her father allows. "If his marriage to the Lady Rhea Royce had not been annulled already. Your council of advisors, the Most Devout, reached the conclusion that his first marriage was never valid because both parties were pressured into the union."

"And let me remind you of the concessions the Faith made to our grandfather under the Doctrine of Exceptionalism," Rhaenys continues. "It is because of that doctrine that the King’s own parents, Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa were allowed to wed. Our ancestor, Aegon the Dragon, wed both of his sisters under the Valyrian tradition. That is our prerogative as dragonlords." 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

February 111 AC

Daemon entered their tent walked towards her, his hands reaching out to stroke the swell of her stomach, the evidence their child was growing inside her.

"You look ravishing, my lady."

She threw her head back and laughed. "I look like one of the whales that swim in the Sunset Sea. I can only hope this babe won’t completely ruin me."

"You’re the most beautiful woman possible, Aurelia," he said, nuzzling his mouth through her hair to press a kiss there.

"You’re kind to say so," she smiled and grasped his hands to rise to her feet. "What did you decide today?"

"Nothing," Daemon sighed, residual anger in his voice. "All everyone could do was bicker about foolish strategies and impossible attacks."

She gasped as he came to tug up her skirts, his fingers brushing her bare legs as their eyes met. She held his gaze for what seemed like forever as he loomed above her, forcing his body to stay still as her chest rose and fell deliciously. She wanted him. Gods, did she want him.

He kept her gaze, wondering which part of her would win the battle he could almost see raging in her mind. He tugged her skirts a fraction more up her legs then and she finally caved in, her own hands coming up and grabbing his face to hers, kissing him furiously as his hands continued frantically pulling up her skirts. 

She whimpered as his hands went to tug at the meager laces of her shift until it was loose, pooling at her feet. Aurelia lowered herself into their mattress as her hands wandered to the laces of his doublet, loosening the top as he started caressing her skin before dropping one hand to his laces, the other bracing himself above her so his weight didn't crush her. 

She was breathless as she tugged his doublet open, her fingers pulling desperately on the fastenings of his shirt, loosening it just far enough so she could slip her warm hands beneath it and let them roam across his chest. He groaned into her mouth as he managed to free his length from his trousers. He grabbed her legs, spreading them widely to fit his hips and then with an approving nod from her, he directed his cock up and down her folds, before pushing in with one quick motion, feeling as his length was enveloped by her welcoming warmth. Feeling her so aroused made him lose his senses, everything consumed by her as he thrust inside her in one quick motion. She cried out, her lips wrenching from his as she gasped for air, hips rising to meet his as he rocked into her harder and harder. So hard it was almost painful but it felt so good, the pain felt so good she couldn't stop herself asking him for more. Begging him for more.

Daemon noticed her reaction, how she was on the verge and how her body responded to his.

"You like it when I am rough, do you not?" He asked as he moved his hand down to her breast, his touch became more intimate, yet he was still gentle as to not hurt her or the babe inside her. 

She shuddered at the touch, but she nodded eagerly. "Yes–" she whispered, as she kissed him deeply. She needed him, she desired him. She bent her legs and pushed down so he was deeper inside her, so he was hitting that sweet spot and she whimpered as she felt him reach it.

Daemon smiled at the sounds he was drawing from his wife before bracing himself on both arms and looking down at her. Dropping a kiss on her belly, he moved up to her breasts, kissing the stiff tips, one then the other, then he swiped his tongue over her nipple. He wet it thoroughly before he sucked it into his mouth — gently, but even with the slightest pressure, Aurelia gasped and arched, her hands threading through his hair to hold him to her bosom. He’d learned she loved it when he paid attention to her breasts, but there’d been little opportunity for it lately, given they’d been sensitive from the pregnancy.

She whined, canting her hips toward him as he suckled at her breast. "Daemon." 

He fondled her other tit with his hand, rolling the nipple under his thumb. As she bucked beneath him, he pulled out before pushing in again as he switched his mouth to her other breast and lavished it with the same attentions, sucking lightly on the pink bud.

"Oh," she sighed, her nails cutting shallow marks into his back.

"Gods, you are perfect like this," he whispered. "I shall have to keep you pregnant." 

She nodded, and pressed her forehead against his as she let out one last scream. She panted, as she was tired. It was clear, by her chestnut hair, which was once in waves, now turned to thin strands.

She smiled, as she caressed her lower belly, where they were still joined. "We will make sure that the realm knows the name Targaryen," she spoke, as she looked at her swollen belly. "What will we name them? All of our children? We haven’t discussed names yet."

"Aye. We’ve been a little preoccupied. What do you think it’ll be? A boy or a girl?"

"I think it’ll be a boy this time," she murmured. "Why don’t we each choose a name? We can do it for all of our babes… I choose for a boy, you choose for a girl and then we switch."

"Alyssa," Daemon said at once. "I want to name a girl for my mother. What would you have chosen?"

"Lacerta," she smiled. "The Rhoynar of Old had a tradition of naming children after the stars. For a boy?"

"Baelon, after my father."

Aurelia grimaced. "Perhaps not for this one. It’s too soon after your nephew. But I do like Aelyx."

His smile remained as he began to gently kiss her again, a kiss unlike any he had given her before.

Chapter Text

March 111 AC

The pain…oh sweet merciful gods the pain…

Aurelia had awoken that morning with her sheets wet between her legs and upon seeing it, Liane had run to fetch one of the Maesters, while Keira started preparing the tent.

The maester had come as fast as his stiff legs had allowed but by the time he had arrived, the contractions had already begun.

He had attempted to kick everyone out of the tent, but she hadn’t allowed him to do so. In the reprieve between her pains, she managed to make her wishes clear. Keira would be in charge. He’d defer to her judgement.

A few hours later, the pain had not abated and she dearly wished she had a potion to help relieve it, but alas there were no potions she could drink so she would have to persevere. She remembered being told that walking could help the labor progress, so that was what she had done, leaning against Daemon when the contractions hit. And, what a surprise that was. 

She had assumed he would have gone riding on Caraxes to burn some of the Crabfeeder’s soldiers when he heard she had gone into labor, but instead he’d barged on to her tent, asking how he could be useful. And despite everything, she welcomed his presence."Daemon," Keira’s voice brought her out from her thoughts. "She’s nearly there. I’d advise you to leave now."

Daemon tensed behind her, silently asking her and she shook her head. "I’m staying."

"Have it your way," Keira scoffed. "Now, Aurelia, when the next contraction hits, I want you to push. I’d advise you to stand up again, it could help the babe come faster."

She nodded, glad it was finally going to be over. She locked her arms around Daemon’s as he helped her up, before leaning against him as Keira placed herself beneath her, ready to catch the babe. 

She pushed as she felt pain come again, being encouraged by Keira until there was a small cry. "It’s a girl."

"Alyssa," Aurelia breathed, leaning her head against Daemon’s shoulders. "Give her to Daemon and I’ll lay down until the afterbirth comes," she ordered, already feeling all the emotions that came with a new babe.

Carefully, Daemon helped her sit back down, before leaving to see their daughter with a kiss to her forehead.

"It seems as if with the next pain, you could push, Aurelia," Keira instructed and she nodded. "Wait! Wait! Don’t push again."

A surge of alarm went through her. "What’s wrong?"

"I’m seeing a face," Keira murmured. "You’re having twins and this one is coming face first."

"What does that mean?" Daemon asked from the other side of the tent, their newborn daughter in his arms.

"It’s more dangerous," Aurelia huffed, breathing through a contraction. "Babes are supposed to come with their heads first. Can you turn him?"

"You’re far too advanced to try it," the Volantene woman answered. "Push only when I tell you to, alright?"

Aurelia did so, trying to swallow her nerves, pushing until the babe was down up to its shoulders. 

"Now, I’m going to need to pry the babe from your body," Keira sighed. "We need to get this done quickly to get some air into those lungs. I want you to push in tandem with me, alright?"

Aurelia grabbed hold of the sheets and grunted as she pushed, hoping that this would be the worst she had ever felt and there would be no more.

She felt the babe leave her body without a sound and saw Keira take it, massaging the chest slowly, murmuring some encouragement in Valyrian. She only sagged back onto the sheets of the bed when the sound of an infant's shrill cries filled the silent tent. 

"A healthy girl," Keira said as he held up the babe. "Another royal princess."

Lacerta.

Aurelia could hardly believe it as she lay back on the bed after the afterbirth was pushed forth and she was cleaned with her daughters in her arms, Daemon sitting behind her and toying with her hair absentmindedly as he looked down at their babes. Two girls. Two beautiful, healthy little girls.

"They’re beautiful," she whispered, slipping easily into High Valyrian. "Alyssa has my mother’s nose, I think. Oh and that hair," Aurelia had to bite back a sob, because the curls her older daughter’s head was adorned with were a reminder of Sirius and his unruly hair.

"Our girls," Daemon murmured. "Alyssa and Lacerta."

Aurelia was silent for a moment as she stared at the babes. "No."

"What?"

"I don’t think the second babe is a Lacerta," Aurelia sniffed. "She looks like a Baela."

"I don’t think that’s a good idea," Daemon argued. "You didn’t want to name a boy Baelon. You said it was too soon after my nephew…and it was the name I had chosen for my son with Mysaria before…"

"An unlucky name for a boy then," Aurelia wasn’t deterred. "But it’ll be a lucky name for our girl."

The babe cooed as if in agreement. "See? She likes it. And think of it, Daemon," Aurelia gushed. "Alyssa and Baela, with their names honoring both of your parents."

There didn't seem to be anymore words Daemon could say to argue, it seemed as if he had been won over by the name. Aurelia snuggled closer to him, happiness filling her.

At that moment it didn’t matter that they were in the middle of a war camp. All that mattered was that her children were here and healthy.

Her children were born alive and healthy and now no one would ever doubt her ability to provide heirs to the throne. She hoped absently that there would be more.

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May 111 AC

When her party arrived at The Red Keep, it was already becoming dusk. There were only a few members of the court there to greet them. Rhaenyra stood in front of the crowd, wearing her mother’s jewels.

She curtsied to her niece and assessed her, taking in the changes that had occurred while she was in the Reach with her son. She held herself more proudly and seemed to be making strides towards acting as the heir, at least. Wearing Targaryen red and black as well as Arryn jewels, she reminded everyone exactly of who she was. The eldest child of the king, the eldest daughter he had with his first wife, Queen Aemma.

"Princess Viserra, I am pleased to welcome you back to court. I cannot express enough how much you were missed," Rhaenyra said warmly, eyes twinkling.

Viserra dipped her head. "I thank you for the invitation back, dearest niece. I was glad to hear of my nephew’s marriage to Princess Aurelia and of your father’s announcement."

Of course, she’d likely heard of the marriage before Viserys and Rhaenyra did. Letters had been sent between Evergreen Cove and Sunspear, her son and protégé maintaining a warm relationship despite the lack of time being in the same castle. Once, Viserra had entertained the thought of betrothing them. They would have made a good match, but she hoped Aurelia could be a good influence on her nephew if she could not officially become her daughter.

Evidently, Rhaenyra had enough of the formalities because with the next breath she had the girl in her arms, hugging the life out of her. "I’m glad you’re back, auntie."

"I’m glad to be back as well, little fire," Viserra murmured into her hair.

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June 111 AC

There’s a small rustle in the flap of the tent and then Laenor Velaryon enters, jumping into her bed, making them both bounce in the process. It’s only her quick reflexes that kept the twins from flying off, with her having quickly pressed a hand to their stomaches to keep them in place.

Liane moves her arms from the girls and rolls her eyes good-naturedly, as both of them are laughing, and she asks with mock-indignation. "Is your goal in life to mildly annoy as many people you can?" 

"No, it's just an added bonus," Laenor grins as he takes Baela into his arms, smiling at the baby.

"So, What brings you here?" 

Laenor pauses for a moment, then tilts his head and asks. "Liane, could I say we share a similar problem with taste?"

She thinks for a moment, knowing that he’s speaking in a sort of code and she needs to crack it. She thinks back to seeing him smile at one of Driftmark’s knights, the sounds coming from his tent some days and of her own infatuation with Keira.

"You prefer duck, while I like goose," she answers simply. "When I should like duck and you should like goose." 

Laenor smiles, no doubt glad he won’t have to outwardly say it. "You and I…we will never get our love blessed in a sept. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy."

"I’m dornish," Liane says simply, absentmindedly tickling Alyssa, the baby’s laughter filling the tent. "I always knew I’d have to marry, but get my pleasure elsewhere."

"My Lord Father has told me if I haven’t choose a lady to marry six months after we return to court, he will choose for me."

She nods in understanding, looking down sadly. "Aurelia bringing me here helped. My father was in talks with the Vaiths, but they were paused. And, now she will have to approve my marriage as well, but once we’re in King’s Landing, she won’t be able to reject every offer."

"Liane," his purple eyes stare into hers. "I cannot guarantee that I can even get approval from the proper parties, but I wanted to ask you first, before I broached it in a more public sphere, will you marry me?" 

"I..." 

"Liane, we know what we are. We know that there's nothing wrong with us, but the world doesn't agree. We will have to marry at one point, that’s something we’ve both come to terms with. We're friends and I would rather be bonded to a friend, who could pursue her own passions as I pursue mine, than trap some poor woman who enters the union wishing for a true husband. And, I know you would prefer a husband who understands." 

Everything he says is true. And this, this is the best possible scenario she could hope for. A man who will not mistreat her, who understands her desires because he shares the same desires. A friend to marry and to have children with when necessary. 

"If we can make our families agree, I'd really like that."

"Liane Velaryon, it sounds nice," he smiles at her, amused. "Much better than Laenor Dayne in any case."

They both fall into peals of laughter.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Time passed like a blur, and without her even noticing, she was in her father's huge tent, looking at him with guilt in her eyes. Laena hugged him tightly. 

"I love you," she began, not being ashamed to appeal to his sentimental side, since what she was talking about was true.  

He was clearly confused by the sudden declaration of love. 

"I love you too."

The man's fingers slid through her hair in an affectionate act that he had been doing since she was a child. She felt her eyes fill with tears, but swallowed the lump that was in her throat. 

"Did something happen recently?" He fretted at her silence. "Did someone do something to you?"

Laena took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second to build up courage, to savor these last few moments go being unconditionally loved by her father.

"I need to talk to you, Kepa."

Her serious voice must have alerted him because he quickly broke away from her, looking right into her face.

"You're worrying me, Laena."

She thought several times about where she should start, what were the right words to say, she had everything prepared, but at that moment, under his worried gaze, she could think of nothing. 

"I–" she tried, but her voice failed and so she moistened her dry lips and tried again. "I – I really need you to be calm, Father. I need — I need you to give your blessing for my marriage, papa."

The Sea Snake frowned so hard that his eyebrows almost became one. 

"I don't understand, Lae –" she could no longer pretend that she wasn't nervous, that she was mentally fine, so she interrupted him.

"I am with child."

There was a deafening silence for a long moment, where her father looked at her as if a second head had just grown on her neck, as if what she had said was impossible. As if that was a cruel joke. 

"What?!" His voice was so hurt that she instinctively cringed away from him.

"I'm with child, Kepa. I’m carrying your grandchild and I need you to approve of my marriage to Morgan Swann because — because he’s the father of my babe."

Her father began to breathe too quickly, his face turning reddish his hands trembling as he leaned on one of the chairs and continued to stare at her, his eyes wide and his mouth half open.

"Are you serious?"

Her only response was a nod, because she knew that if she tried to speak, the cry trapped in her throat would escape. As a reflex, her hand went to her belly, still completely flat and without any indication that a baby was forming in there. 

"Why did you do this to me? Laena, how could you? After everything I've said, after many times I've warned you, how could you come here to me with this victim face, tell me that you're carrying a fucking bastard?!"

He angrily shouted the last part, and she started crying like a child being scolded.

"Papa, I didn't mean to-"

Suddenly his face turned completely grim. 

"Did he force you?"

"What?! No!" She tried to explain further, her hands gesturing desperately. "I was taking moon tea, I wanted to do things right, I swear. I was dumb to let it get to this point —"

Her father let out a laugh without any humor at all, incredulous. 

"You have been fucking him then? All this time? When your mother and I have begged you and your brother to be smart, to not get carried away by pretty faces?"

Laena was crying so hard that her shoulders shook and she had to take a deep breath to speak. The way he said it, she was the same as a whore from Hull.

"Kepa, it wasn't like that, I love him."

He simply shook his head. 

"Yes, you love him, that I don't doubt," he came closer, looking at her as if she was just a dumb child. "But does he love you? Or does he love the idea of you, the dragon riding daughter of the Sea Snake? You don’t find it odd that the disowned second son of House Martell is suddenly proclaiming to love Vhagar’s rider?"

"Believe he loves me or not," she spat. "He remains the father of my child and he will be my husband."

"I can't even believe what I'm hearing, Laena," her father's voice was low, but so incredulous that it made her heart ache.

"I can explain if you-"

"No!" He shouted, making her jump in fright. "I don't even want to hear your voice!"

She swallowed dryly, letting more tears stream down her face. Before, the simple sight of her tears would have been enough for her father to draw her into his arms and comfort her, but now her tears only infuriated him. He paced the tent with his hands on his head, still absorbing what he had heard.

"How could you do this to me?!" He stepped closer looking right into Laena's eyes.

"How am I supposed to face people now?" He ran his hand through his hair in nervousness. "How am I going to explain to everyone what you’ve done? You were once to be a Queen and now you’re this disappointment."

She opened her mouth to speak, but the angry look in his eyes made her shut up, the only sound coming out of her mouth was the sobs her crying produced.

"And you still think you have the right to cry, Laena?!" Her father moved even closer and she felt like cringing. "Do you realize that I have broken rules, I have allowed you, a girl, to come into the battlefield and participate in the war? That now I am going to have to allow a hasty wedding, basically announce you are nothing but a whore who opened her legs this whole -"

"You are a hypocrite!" She shouted, her voice failing and shrill from crying, but she couldn't hear him finish that sentence.  "You claim to love me the same way you love Laenor, but if he told you a girl was pregnant and he wanted to marry her, you wouldn’t blink and would allow him his wedding!"

"The difference is you're a FUCKING WOMAN!" Corlys shouted even louder, his face very red with hatred.

"Let me marry then!" She raged at him. "Let me marry him and our child be legitimate! Love me as you love my brother then!"

Chapter Text

The scent of Viserra’s favorite dishes fills Viserys’ solar as he paces around the room, waiting for his lady aunt. He tries to distract himself with his model of the Valyrian Freehold but to no avail. The anxiety makes him restless, and Viserys has no doubts that he won’t be able to relax until their meeting is over — hopefully with a positive outcome.

Finally, Ser Harrold Westerling announces Viserra’s arrival. 

Viserys smiles as she enters the solar. Tonight, she’s wearing the black and red of House Targaryen, and he takes it as a good sign.

"Nephew," she greets as she squeezes his hand gently. As she glances around the room, her eyes find the model of Old Valyria and her smile widens. "Gods, a few more years, and you’ll need another room for it." 

She takes a few steps and leans to get a closer look at various elements, admiring the work. "Fine craftsmanship," she compliments. "But I’m surprised a King has the time for it."

"I find that sometimes it’s good to have something to distract us from the stress of governing," Viserys replies, choosing his words carefully. "Other times, sitting here helps me to think, find a solution to whatever problem I am facing," he says, shrugging. "But let us sit. I had the cooks prepare all your favorites."

As always, Viserra is a paragon of good manners and everything expected of a Princess. She sits with her back straight as a board – a perfect posture befitting a Princess of House Targaryen, and says all the right words. She praises the cooks and thanks Viserys for his thoughtfulness with a well-practiced smile on her lips.

Not for the first time, Viserys wonders what kind of Queen Viserra would be if she had been given the chance. He knows the stories of how she’d attempted to seduce his father before being sent North. Even with his father’s early death, she would have been  Princess of Dragonstone, had more children — had a better, stronger position at court.

They start their supper with the mushroom soup, conversing about matters of little importance. It is only when the servants bring strawberry tarts and pour them the Pentosi pear brandy his aunt favors that Viserys feels it’s time for more honest conversation.

He grasps Viserra’s hand in his gently. "I wish to thank you for returning to court after our summons." 

"Most think it is a great honor to be summoned directly by the Princess of Dragonstone."

Most, but not all. Viserys knows his aunt doesn’t see it as some great honor. She was born a Princess, cosseted beyond belief as the youngest Targaryen child for the first three years of her life. Then, after her failed attempt at becoming his stepmother, she was the Lady of White Harbor, not something anyone can sniff at. His aunt is beyond what most nobles would consider an honor. She is too proud for that.

He purses his lips, searching his head for the right words. "Yes, but you are not most. You are a Princess in your own right, Viserra. You could have ignored the summons but you chose to come back," he pauses for a second to take a sip of wine. "Rhaenyra has been closed off since Aemma passed. Danae is the only one who can bring out a true smile from her. Yet, it’s only been one sennight since your arrival and I can see the difference. She’s better off with you here."

His aunt’s face softened. "They’re why I came back. Your girls," she adds with a fond smile. "Rhaenyra is at that age where girls desperately need a mother and I shouldn’t have left or at the very least, I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. But I wanted to see my son and found it hard to leave him. But I’m here to stay and I will continue taking both your daughters under my wing. They need a mother and a Hightower is not up to the task."

He wants to say something, rebuke her but deep down, he knows she’s right. Alicent can try all she wants but she isn’t a dragon, she isn’t a Targaryen. She will never understand them like those of their house do. And he’s seen how she struggles under the weight of her duties, how some days she finds it hard to smile at their son, he can’t add more to her plate.

"I wish for the children being born into our family to grow as we did," he expresses. "You and Saera, Rhaenys, Daemon, Gael and I…we all grew here at the keep, together. Rhaenyra grew up utterly alone, with Edrick  at the North and then fostering in the Reach as well as Laenor and Laena at Driftmark. I don’t want that for Danae and Aegon. I know that time and circumstances drew our family apart, but perhaps there is a chance for us to find the path to each other again, as I know our parents and grandparents would wish. And I would wish for your help in this."

"And yet, you take our family for granted," she says coldly. "You spurn Rhaenys and Corlys. You refuse Laena as your bride. Name Rhaenyra heir over your brother, over Laenor and Edrick. You speak of the united family, but what have you done to keep us together?"

Viserys blinks. "I never meant to offend. Laena was too young to be my bride. Laenor had been refused by the realm once and Edrick is too far away on the succession —"

"Edrick was considered in the Great Council," Viserra says sharply. "I withdrew his claim because we knew the true contest was between you and Rhaenys. But he was a claimant, put forth by my stepson. The youngest grandchild of the Old King and the Good Queen, with the backing of one of the richest houses in the realm. He would’ve been a worthy heir, Viserys."

"I never meant any offense," he sighed. "I just… Daemon would not have been accepted by the lords as my heir, even if he is the direct choice. And if I had just been content with Rhaenyra, Aemma would have lived. That’s why I named her my heir."

Her face softens in understanding. "You do not intend to replace her then? Otto Hightower’s grandson will remain just a prince?"

At first, Viserys wonders what Otto has done to earn the scorn of everyone in his family. He has served him loyally as the Hand of the King, and their grandsire, King Jaehaerys, before that. Yet, he seems to be the only one in his family to appreciate everything the man has done. 

And, as her words register, Viserys frowns. "Rhaenyra is my heir." 

Viserra rolls her eyes."For how long? Aegon is healthy, from what I hear."

Do they all think me so fickle? He wonders, breathing through his nose. He straightens his back and looks at his aunt. "I don’t intend to change my succession," he says, challenging her with his eyes. "I did not choose Rhaenyra on a whim. I called the lords to swear to her, to pledge to support her as heir and as Queen."

Viserra looks at him with something similar to pity. It almost makes him regret inviting her to eat with him. His aunt always had the power to make Viserys feel like a mummer dressed as a King. She lets out a heavy sigh. "Don’t be a fool, Viserys. The men of the realm won’t let her ascend the Throne after your death."

"They will have no choice. They swore an oath," Viserys reminds her. Yet, his voice doesn’t sound as confident as he wishes it to be. Otto has been hinting at the change of succession lately, and he knows many would support Aegon as heir, as the future king.

Viserra laughs. "That was before Aegon was born. The realm expects him to be the next King, not Rhaenyra. Even your daughter knows it," she says, and Viserys’ heart sinks in his chest. "Rhaenyra is no doubt worried. She is expecting you to spurn her for a half-Hightower and for her and Danae to be tossed aside."

"Thank you for pointing it out to me," he says stiffly. "It seems I must remind the lords and ladies of the oath they swore. Do you need a reminder, too?" He asks as he meets her gaze. He doesn’t flinch under the weight of her stare.

Her eyes widen a little at the severity of his voice. It takes her a moment to reply, and the look she gives him is something else, something he hasn’t seen in Viserra’s eyes in a long time when she looks at him. Pride. "No."

Viserys nods his head in acknowledgement. He will not allow Rhaenyra to become the next Queen Who Never Was. Rhaenys wears her title with something akin to pride, but he knows it chafes at her. Grandsire choosing his father over her and then calling upon the lords to choose… he fears it’s a wound his cousin will never truly heal from. He won’t allow Rhaenyra to suffer from the same fate.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

As the weeks passed and her pregnancy progressed slowly, Laena learned it was a very lonely task to be a non-warrior in a war camp. Aurelia had ensured she’d be able to move to a closer tent, so now they were neighbors and they spent a portion of their days together — talking about her pregnancy and cooing over the twins. Keira was  attending to her, doing weekly checks to make sure everything was progressing well while Liane’s wicked tongue and Marianne’s sweetness made sure every day was interesting.

Yet, she yearned for more. 

She wished to be on the battlefield as she’d been before. She wanted to ride Vhagar and set the Triarchy’s fleet aflame. She wanted to stop feeling so useless.

Her days were much the same. She crossed over to Aurelia’s tent and cooed over her new cousins before she started working on clothes for her own child. Se’d visit the sept, receive pregnancy advice and search her mind for her bond with Vhagar.

Sometimes, she resented Morgan. He was not as miserable as she was. He was still allowed to fight. But because she was pregnant, many of the men looked at her with scorn. She could no longer fly to their aid, Vhagar could no longer be counted as support because of her. Because of her own actions.

She was reading an old poem book, trying to understand the words in one dialect of Valyrian when one of the new servants entered her tent, saying something in that she barely catches. When she asks her to repeat herself, she smiles.

“There’s a man at the door. He claims to be your brother.”

"Laenor?" she questioned, standing up. "Send him in."

Lenore’s smile was dazzling, his eyes shining as they always did in the low light when he looked Laena up and down.

“You returned,” she laughed, a weight easing off of her. The past two weeks had been miserable — her brother and Morgan both gone with a delegation of men to secure one of the islands.

He smiled and touched her stomach, "How are you, sister? I see you’ve grown.”

Laena couldn’t stop smiling. She embraced him, pulling him as close as she could with her belly between them. Laenor laughed as he hugged her back, whispering in her ear about how much he missed her, and she laughed again.

“How was it? Is Jelmor ours?”

The island, with its position at the north was important to secure. Its closeness to Tyrosh meant it was used as a first landing spot for their ships. Taking it for themselves meant taking a strategic place from the Triachy and being one step closer to driving them away.

“It’s ours,” her brother confirmed. Now, we only have to take Sea Gate and Qantysos and they will not be able to have a rest on land before attacking us.”

"Oh, Laenor," she said, hugging him again. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

“Tell me, how are you? How is my little nephew treating you?”

Laena laughed. “Your niece,” she said pointedly. “Is still making me ill in the mornings, but she is growing very well.”

To prove her point, she took his hand and placed it over her belly, where her daughter was growing. The baby kicked the spot under Laenor’s hand, seeking the warmth, and her brother laughed, smiling.

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"Please Baela, please…please, please stop crying," Aurelia was near tears herself as she paced up and down the length of the tent. Their younger daughter had been incessantly crying since she woke near dawn and after being fed and changed she still wouldn't settle. 

Light was creeping in through the fabric of the tent now and Aurelia’s body felt on the verge of collapse. She was exhausted, this little routine had become far too frequent and she was nearing the end of her tether. 

She loved her children, but this had been a part Charlie had dealt with in her first life. Having so many younger siblings, he’d been great at calming their children, while she always ended on the verge of crying alongside them. But there was no Charlie now. It was up to her to calm her children, to lay them to sleep, to take care of all their needs. And she was failing at it. Miserably.

She’d thought she’d be able to deal with it. She thought that during her pregnancy, she’d prepared herself for having an infant, to having to care for said infant 24/7. But it seemed no amount of preparation was enough, even if she’d already lived through having children once before.

Interrupted sleep was one thing, but this? Gods. She just did not know what to do to soothe Baela, she had tried all she could think of. Rocking her, bouncing her, hushing her, singing to her, and none of it was working. Still she cried and it was all she herself wanted to do because she felt so utterly inadequate.

At her wit’s end, she started doing a combination of everything she’d done before, guiding Baela to her breast as she sang to her and finally, finally her daughter calmed down as she started sucking on her nipple. 

"Aurelia, what are you doing?" Daemon’s confused and tired voice caught her attention as the tent flapped open and he entered, coming back from a scouting flight on Caraxes.

"Shh, she just calmed down," she murmured. "I did everything I could think of and she wouldn’t calm down. She only just fell asleep."

"You’re bleeding," he noted, a hint of worry on his voice.

She looked down and realized he was right. Baela must have latched incorrectly, and there was now a thin stream of pinkish blood running down into their daughter’s face.

"Ugh, I should have known it was a bad idea to feed her again," Aurelia shook her head, grimacing as she felt the pain in her breast now that she was aware of the injury. "She just wouldn’t calm down. I did everything I could and she was still wailing her heart out," her voice was near hysterical at the end and Daemon was hushing her, coming closer and laying his hands on her shoulders to pause her in her pacing. 

"Clean yourself up and go to sleep," he said softly.

"I can’t," she answered. "If I move her, she will wake up and start screaming again."

Daemon easily maneuvered her arms so he could take Baela into his, not caring about the fact that she, as predicted, woke up and started crying again. 

"Go back to bed," he said again, more firmly this time. This time she nodded, blinking her stinging eyes before she moved towards the chest where they kept their medical stuff before Daemon could change his mind. As she cleaned her breast and applied a soothing ointment, she heard Baela’s cries die down slightly. Gods. How was it that one moment with Daemon calmed her and yet she had been up for hours trying to soothe her to no avail? What could she possibly be doing that was so wrong? She tried not to think about it as she dragged her exhausted body into their bed.

Chapter Text

This war had not been what he’d expected. He had always thought he would enjoy waging war and he did in some aspects — he was good at it, commanding men and strategizing was something he enjoyed, but he hated the rest.

He hated feeling so unclean, hated the dust and smoke and blood that clung to his skin and his hair. He hated the feeling after a battle, when everything and everyone felt like a possible attacker.

He did not know what he would have done without Caraxes the last few years. Without him and Aurelia both. His bond with Caraxes kept him grounded in some ways — without him, he would have likely gone mad. And Aurelia always waited for him on their tent, ready to clean off the blood and gore from his body and would allow him to lose himself in her body when he needed to forget the horrors he had inflicted. 

But even so, he missed his family. He missed his annoying brother, Rhaenyra’s smiles. He wanted to see how Danae was growing and for some reason, even wanted to meet his new nephew to see if he was more dragon than tower.

He missed them and resented them all at once. His brother sent one letter a year, if that. His letters to Rhaenyra were returned unanswered. Viserra sent letters every few months and while they were a balm to his heart, they couldn’t replace the hole left by his brother’s silence. 

He knew he was seen as a placeholder — the one who’d be heir until a nephew was born. But he believed his brother still cared for him, that he wouldn’t be basically thrown out once a new heir was named. Yet, that was what he felt had happened. His brother didn’t care for him after he named Rhaenyra as his heir. 

He realized he had nothing. That was why this war was so important to him. He needed something for himself, something he had fought for instead of something he’d been given. Dark Sister, given to him. Caraxes, claimed with the blessing of his grandparents. The only two things he could truly claim as his and they were not something he had fought for.

So, he agreed to support Corlys in his war if the islands became his.

His friend tried to dissuade him, telling tales about the archipelago, but his mind was made and preparations started

When they landed in the islands, he realized how wrong Corlys had been. On first glance, the islands were barren strips of land, filled with rocks and sand. But many of the other islands weren’t. Instead, they were filled with lush, green fields and vegetation.

Bloodstone was the biggest of the islands and equidistant from Essos and Westeros. After taking Dwarfstone and Grey Gallows for themselves, they were finally making a move into the island he hoped to make his seat on. 

They took full control of the island quickly, the garrison left behind by the Triarchy was demoralized and lacked supplies. Now, the trouble would be the smaller islands that surrounded it and the islands they had taken. The Tears, they were called. They were too small to make a settlement, but big enough to make landfall and spend a few days on land before continuing — big enough to hide a group of men waiting to attack.

Once they finished dealing with the men from the Triarchy, they moved onto the castle. It had been made on top of a remnant of a Valyrian military outpost, atop a jagged peak and overlooking the rolling hills and lush forests of the island. Despite its current abandoned state, it was a beautiful construction, made from dragon fire much like Dragonstone, with dragon motifs all around. 

The walls were made of limestone, however and in some ways, that made it even more beautiful than his ancestral home. The towers soared up into the sky, while its ramparts had panoramic views of the land below. The courtyard was wide enough to welcome the small folk in if the need arose.

Once inside, he took note the castle boasted of some furniture he could sell for a lot of coin in order to furnish the castle in a way more to his taste. However, the grand hall was even more impressive than the one in the Red Keep. It had high, vaulted ceilings and was surrounded by intricate stonework, with wide columns all around. As he continued exploring, he admired the architecture and the craftsmanship before he arrived at the library. 

It was filled with Valyrian treasures — likely abandoned by one of the castle’s previous occupants as he fled from his enemies. The library was filled with not only ancient Valyrian books, but also art pieces and jewels. And, as he remembered the island had been used by pirates as a smuggling port, he realized the castle — like all other Valyrian buildings — must have hidden passages. And in those passages, even more riches must be stored.

He did not speak of it, however and rejoined the others, to have Corlys tell him of some gems they had found that were apparently quite rare and considered precious.

Yes, this island would serve him well.

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The hour is late, but instead of going down the hallway to her chamber inside Maegor’s Holdfast once she leaves the nursery, Rhaenyra turns around and heads in the opposite direction. Ser Criston follows her dutifully as she crosses the drawbridge and strides forward with her head held high and a determined expression on her face. 

As they turn a corner and it becomes clear where she’s heading, her sworn shield speaks. "Princess, perhaps it is too late for visiting. I’m sure the Princess would receive you tomorrow."

Rhaenyra doesn’t answer, instead she approaches the guard outside her aunt’s doors and greets him, noting he wears Manderly instead of Targaryen colors. "Can you ask Princess Viserra if she’ll see me?" 

The guard looks confused but agrees. He can’t refuse her, not really. After all, Rhaenyra is the Royal Princess and the heir to the Iron Throne. A knight from White Harbor has no right to deny her anything.

It takes a few moments but the knight walks out of Viserra’s apartments and holds the door open for Rhaenyra. "Princess Viserra will see you, Princess."

She tells Ser Criston to wait outside, takes a deep breath and enters. Despite the late hour, her aunt is still wearing the gown she attended court with, though her hair has been let loose for the night. 

"I apologize for the late hour, Auntie," Rhaenyra says. "I was afraid I would not get a chance to speak with you before you moved into the manse tomorrow."

Because, although her aunt is planning to stay in King’s Landing, she has decided to stay at a manse in the hills instead of in the Red Keep. At least for the moment. Rhaenyra knows her aunt and Viserra Targaryen is not a woman to stay away from court and its drama.

"I plan to leave early," Viserra says placatingly. She observes Rhaenyra for a long moment before nodding at the empty chair next to the hearth. "Please sit."

Rhaenyra does. She starts playing with the rings on her fingers, searching for the right words. She takes a deep breath. "I’ve spoken with my father. He continues to claim he will not replace me with my brother."

Princess Viserra hums. "I know. He told me the same."

"He did?" Rhaenyra can’t hide her surprise. She half-expected her father to stay quiet about his succession – as he has had in the year since Aegon’s birth. It’s nice to know he has at last proclaimed his stance — even if he mentioned it to Viserra and not the Hightowers or men who follow Otto blindly.

Princess Viserra nods, but doesn’t say anything more. She waits for Rhaenyra to continue.

"I have a lot to learn," she starts. "And while you don’t wear a crown, the nobles respect you. I know you were beloved by the people of White Harbor when you were their lady. And the small folk here in the capital always cheer your name. I need that — that spark you have," she sighs and continues fiddling with her jewelry. "My father wants me to sit in the Small Council meetings - to listen and learn how to govern the realm, and that is important, I know, but there are only men in that chamber. They have power simply because it was given to them. I know my road will not be so easy. I know I will be questioned and that people will look to my brothers, to Daemon, to my husband instead of me. I know my father’s support will not be enough. Many voted for Rhaenys in the Great Council, despite her sex. You are admired and respected, perhaps even feared by some. How can I achieve that?"

"Do you want to be the Queen, Rhaenyra?"

Why wouldn’t she want to be the Queen? To rule in her own right and name instead of having to bow to her little brother? To be as admired as Alysanne, as feared as Visenya and as loved as Rhaenys? Who wouldn’t want that? What Targaryen woman would refuse the chance?

Her father tells her that the crown is a duty, but it is also freedom. She would no longer be bound to the whims of a man. Her life would be her own. 

"Yes," she replies firmly.

"You are right about your father," the Dowager Lady of White Harbor says after a long pause. "The King’s support is a boon, but it will not be enough. You are starting off with a stronger position than Rhaenys. Despite everything my mother did, my father didn’t believe a woman could rule on her own. He never supported Rhaenys and stripped her of her position. Your father seems to believe you can rule on your own, but you will rise to the throne once he dies and with him will die his support."

"That’s why I need the support of the nobles and the love of the smallfolk."

"Yes," her aunt purses her lips. "You need to convince the nobles that, despite being a woman, you’d be a capable ruler. You will need to think hard on who you will marry and what that marriage will bring you — support in men, in gold, in prestige? And you will need to start thinking more coldly — to know that your children will be sold off for alliances, perhaps even before they’re born."

"I will think on it," she promises.

"And be sure to use the biggest advantage you have over your brother. You’re older than him. He’s still a babe, while you’re a woman grown. Use these years to build alliances, to get to know the people. My father used to tour the realm, he visited the lords in their castles. Do the same. A grand tour of the realm to get to know the people you’ll rule over and perhaps find the man who will help you shoulder the burden."

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The best thing about wearing tunics and trousers are that they are easily removed. She pulls her tunic over her head, then her breastband, standing there for a moment in just her trousers. She looks to Keira and is rewarded to see those purple eyes gone dark, the same helpless desire that she feels herself. It makes her bolder, shedding her trousers and slipping into the water.

Liane gasps at the heat of it — somehow, she hadn’t expected it to be that fierce — and Keira takes advantage of the moment, pulling her close and kissing her before she’s caught her breath. Liane acts on instinct, tangling a hand finally in that long, blonde hair, pressing her body along the length of Keira’s, the contact sparking through her.

She pulls away and trails kisses along her jaw and neck, then brushing a feather-light kiss against her ear. "I had always heard how lovely Valyrian women were said to be, but it wasn’t until I saw you here, in the sept, that I believed it. And then… I watched you and knew I had to have you. And so I have," Liane whispers, and Keira shivers in her arms, feeling dizzily pliant.

"I - I hadn’t ever - There was a boy, and we explored, but nothing — nothing like" 

"Shh, that’s all right," Liane says, and kisses her again.  "Even a long lost princess can only go so far, hmm? I know enough, I promise. My brother is happy to send a fountain of knowledge through his letters," she keeps one arm firm around Keira’s waist, pulling them further where the pond is deeper, but her other hand cups her breast, thumb teasing her nipple until Keira moans, low and long, and shivers for her again.

Liane laughs, now trailing her hand along Keira’s side, her waist, her hip. "Do you want this?" She asks, in the wake of another deep kiss, her hand resting low on Keira’s stomach now. "Let me give you pleasure as you have given me."

Keira is still trembling, clinging to Liane like she’ll float away if she doesn’t. Perhaps she will. It’s all too much.  "Please," she whispers, staring into those purple eyes gone almost black.

Liane’s hand dips lower, urging Keira’s thighs apart, fingers light and teasing at her center. Keira shudders, rocking into the touch, seeking more. "Just let me," Liane murmurs in her ear, even as she presses harder, fingers slipping till they find one spot and stay - 

Keira cries out, the sound echoing until Liane kisses her again, muffling the desperate sounds she can’t stop as Liane’s fingers keep moving, a warmth building in her until - 

Her whole body seems to clench, tensed with pleasure rolling through her, and then all at once she goes limp, held up only by Liane’s arm round her waist.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Her pains started a week before Yule, right after she broke her fast. Under the eagle eyes of Keira and a midwife, she walked her tent only in her shift, a hand to her lower back as she attempted to diminish her discomfort even by a little. Hours pass before her waters finally break, leaking down her legs in a slow and disgusting trickle and she moves to the birthing chair. It is then that Aurelia arrived with her two other ladies, Liane wide-eyed as she saw what surely awaited her in the future now that she was to marry Laenor.

"Quickly," said Aurelia. "Bring ale to dull her pain." 

Marianne, ever thoughtful and sweet and caring, ran to put herself by Laena’s side, allowing her to hold her hand as an attendant ran off to obey the Princess’ order. "You there, bring boiling water and clean linen. Has Morgan been awakened? He should be aware that his son is soon to come to the world."

Someone pressed a cold cloth to the back of Laena’s neck and she grunted as another wave of pain hit her. Her friend (and cousin?) continued to order the people about and labour continued to progress slowly. At a moment, she got up and started to walk around the tent again, her hair curls with sweat.

She drank the ale offered, but it did nothing to ease her pain. Laena felt everything as she dropped herself down on the mattress. The pain was ever-present, never truly leaving her, and she whispered prayers under her breath.

She prayed for safe delivery, for a son and for her to survive it all. She prayed and, after what felt like another hour, Keira helped her part her thighs and told her she was ready to push.

Laena told herself she would not scream as she gave birth, and scream she did not, though she grunted and cried as the child crowned and slid out of her in a gush of fluids.

The cry that came was hearty and strong, a sign of healthy lungs. Two midwives worked to clean the child and she raised her head weakly. "What is it?"

Aurelia smiled at her side. "A boy. You have a perfect little boy, Laena."

Chapter Text

The Red Keep, King’s Landing

Highborn girls grow up knowing they’ll be married off for their father’s benefit.

Alicent, as the Hand’s daughter, knew she would be well-matched. A dashing, young lord would be her husband and if she was lucky, he would be a Reacher as well and she would stay close to home. 

She had grown up without the delusion of marrying for love — all she wanted was a handsome, kind and loving man.

And then, Queen Aemma died and she was pushed into the King’s rooms wearing dresses meant for a woman and not a girl. Suddenly, she was Queen, stripped from her closest friend and having the eyes of the court trained on her.

The last vestiges of her childhood had been stripped away and she’d been forced into a role she was too young for, a role she was still unaccustomed to.

Viserys was not a knight in shining armor like those from the songs, but he was gentle, and wise. As a Targaryen, he could not be called plain, even if his brother was the more handsome one. He wooed her with his model of Valyria, their shared interest in history.

She told herself it was all right — she was offering comfort to a man who was hurting, she was helping him. But when all was said and done, she knew what was the truth. Her father pushed her into his rooms with the goal of making her queen and of having her eventual son on the throne.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. But the expectations grew and she was not prepared for it. She had been meant to run a small household, not the Red Keep and she was out of her depths. And then, she fell pregnant and had to stand as her body widened, as another being took over her own body. She suffered to bring a babe into the world and she couldn’t even name it.

She learned to live with the feeling of failure weighing on her shoulders, pressing her into the ground with every single step. And she couldn't tell it was all too much for her, couldn't admit how terrified she was of being a mother, couldn't explain why she felt alien to her own life, couldn't confess that she was homesick because this was supposed to be her home, now. And how could anyone else understand what she herself didn’t? She was said to have it all.

She was the queen, she’d had a son in her first pregnancy. Her father was the Hand — unlike most women, she did not leave her family behind. She had a dashing husband and a beautiful babe. And, yet she wasn’t happy.

She felt caged.

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The Stepstones

Lucerys was a sweet baby. Laena had placed him on the bed next to her, his eyes swelled shut as he slept a peaceful sleep, and laid down herself, observing his little face. Morgan often complimented her sharp nose, but she was pleased to see that Luke did not inherit it. He had her lips though, a little poutier as he slept, and even Daemon had commented on how he looked a Velaryon already. She hoped that would change. She wanted her children to look like Morgan as well.

"I think he is clever," Laena whispered, raising her eyes slightly to look at Laenor, who was sitting next to her bed. "Do you think babies dream as we do?"

"I don’t see why not."

"I wonder what he is dreaming of," Laena murmured. 

"Your milk, possibly," her brother answered and she chuckled, holding a hand against her mouth to muffle the noise. "Or, if Father were to answer, the fleet of ships he will one day be a part of."

Laena stroked Luke’s soft round cheek and he flinched slightly, just a bit. But he settled easily, moving his lips as if his uncle was right and he was dreaming of his grandfather’s ships. "I like watching him sleep," she whispered. "He looks so peaceful. Like nothing can ever hurt him."

"Nothing will ever hurt him," Laenor said with so much finality that Laena felt the need to believe him. "Maybe some growing pains, or when his teeth come, but your son will be the most important child on Driftmark when we go home. No one will ever let anything happen to him."

Laena nodded, tears brimming her eyes. She was so emotional since she gave birth, so prone to bursting into tears at each adorable yawn or sweet baby sigh that Luke let out. Keira had told her it was normal, and she would feel better in a few weeks. 

"How is he?" A voice exclaimed just outside the enclosed quarters. Laena immediately sat up, pulling Luke to her arms clumsily. Her baby whined, pulled from his sleep as he opened his bright violet eyes, frowning deeply at his mother. 

"How is my grandson?"

The tent flapped open and her goodfather stepped inside. At his grandfather’s boisterous laugh, Luke began to cry loudly, and Laena rocked him gently, wishing for a moment that she had taken Aurelia’s earlier offer to brush and braid her hair. She must look a mess.

"Growing strong? Feeding well?" 

"He is very well," Laena answered, rocking Luke in her arms. "And he roars like a dragon already when he wants something."

"A good set of lungs," Lord Adrian grinned as he stepped forward. "May I hold him?"

Laena smiled as she passed her son over. Even though he was a large baby, he looked tiny in his grandfather’s arms. 

"Hey, Luke. I’m your grandpapa. Do you remember me?"

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Evergreen Cove, The Reach

Janna liked songs and romantic histories. She always had. From when she first went to Highgarden, she loved nothing more than to listen to her aunt’s soothing voice as she read from the books and hear her sing about Florian and Jonquil. She had always dreamed of when the time would come for her own romance, for when she and a young lord would fall in love.

She didn’t know of how her heart would race. Or how blood would rush to her cheeks when she looked at him or how he would make her feel. She didn’t know that she would always be craving for more.

"You seem flush, my lady," Edrick said. His gaze was upon her, eyes alight with mischief as he nipped at her shoulder.

"I am a mere mortal, my love,” she answered. "I am not used to the heat you dragons have.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "It would be best to acclimate you then. I am sure Rhaenyra would take you up on Syrax.”

"I do not think even a thousand kisses could convince me to ride a dragon, Your Grace."

"Then I shall kiss you a thousand and one times," with that, he kissed her again more soundly. And then he kissed her again and again.

And Janna could bathe in that warmth for all eternity and never get enough of it. 

It was a foolish thing to hope for. Edrick was an excellent lord and he would marry a woman from a more powerful family. As the youngest of the Old King’s grandchildren, nothing less would be expected.

Janna was the daughter of a third son. Even if they had grown up together, even if they loved one another, both knew the truth. Their relationship would never go further than what they had.

Edrick had promised her nothing. She had given herself to him without any promises or expectations. He had not sworn vows before the gods to marry her one day.

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The Stepstones

Sitting on the edge of their bed, Aurelia sat with her spell book open on her lap, eyes traveling over a spell she'd never cast before in this life - the pregnancy detection spell. She and Daemon hadn’t talked about having more children yet (even if they knew it was bound to happen), and until recently, when she’d started to feel an aversion to certain foods and noticed her breasts were more sensitive, she hadn’t thought about another child. However, she'd been dwelling over the fact she could be pregnant for the last couple of days, and she was surprised to find that she rather liked the idea of having more. But she just didn't know what Daemon would think if she was pregnant again.

The twins were not yet a year old and managing three children would be quite different from two. Aurelia just didn't know if Daemon wanted another child, especially when their daughters were so young.

Then there was the war to consider. The Crabfeeder and the Triarchy showed no inclination towards bending or retreating. It was likely this war would drag on. 

She cursed and started tearing through the pages looking for the correct spell. Until she knew she was expecting another babe, it was pointless to sit and worry about the future. The first thing she needed to do was discover if she was indeed pregnant.

Running over the spell again to check she knew what she was doing, Aurelia reached inside for her magic. Once she felt the thread connecting her to it, Aurelia took a deep breath and cast the simple spell. A pale silvery glow enveloped her and turned a bright white after a few moments, confirming her suspicions. 

"I knew it," Aurelia whispered, placing her left hand over her flat stomach as she removed the glow with a wave of her right hand.

Now she knew for sure she was pregnant, her thoughts once again turned back to her husband and his reaction to her news. Deciding the best thing to do was to get it over with, Aurelia stood up and wrapped a cloak around her before walking over to the command tent.

She walked briskly across the camp and steeled herself before entering the tent, disrupting the conversation between the men.

"My lady," Vaemond Velaryon greeted with a dip of his head. "We are discussing the next assault. Perhaps you could wait for the Prince in your tent?"

"I must speak with my husband, Ser Vaemond," she said, looking at Daemon. "I’d appreciate it if you gave us the room."

Daemon nodded and the men started filing out as she walked across so she’d be standing next to him.

"Wife," he greeted, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"Husband," Aurelia replied with a nervous nod. "I have some news."

"Should I be worried?"

"I don’t know," she brushed a hand through her face. "You see, we appear to have forgotten a consequence of a healthy and active marriage."

"You’re pregnant," Daemon concluded in a shocked voice.

"Yes," Aurelia whispered, her eyes never leaving her husband’s. Daemon was clearly shocked, but she had no idea if he was appalled at the news or had merely been taken by surprise and didn't know how to react. "I know this is a bit of a shock, and it's not something we have talked about."

"No it's not," Daemon agreed.

"You're not happy, are you?" Aurelia asked with a sigh.

"I'm just shocked," Daemon reassured his wife, taking hold of her hands in his. "I'm sure you are as well."

"I am," Aurelia admitted. "But I'm also a little excited. The girls will be good sisters and they’ll be able to play with this one. It’s unexpected, but I know I want this child."

"I do as well," Daemon said, a slow smile creeping onto his face. 

"Really?" Aurelia checked, a smile growing on her own face. "It’ll be hard. We’ll be outnumbered and if this one is like Baela, we will end up sleeping a few hours per week."

"I don’t care about that," Daemon chuckled. "Our family will grow. This is good news."

Chapter Text

The Red Keep, King’s Landing, 

March 112 AC

Viserys broke his fast with her, something that they had begun to do since she left her confinement after Aegon was born. They ate in silence, each too deep in their own thoughts to be bothered to speak, though Alicent knew either did not mind. She herself found the silence to be comfortable, calm, peaceful.

"I worry for Danae," her husband said. "They tell me she is running her nurses ragged, that she barely calms and calls for the Princess Aurelia every chance she has to do so."

"She does," Alicent nodded, and she touched his arm, trying as best as she could to comfort him through the table. "My aunt came to me with a request."

"What request?" Viserys frowned.

Alicent stood up and walked around the table, holding her skirts in hand. She walked until she was next to Viserys, close to him. "She wishes for leave to call on some Reach lords, loyal vassals of the crown so their daughters may join the nursery and spend time with our daughter."

"Wards?" Viserys let go of his fork and she placed her hands on his shoulder, trying to calm his nerves, which were often nervous as of late. "She’s still a babe. The time for companions is later, when she’s older."

"I know, I know, but Lady Rosamund fears that being alone is detrimental to Danae’s wellbeing," she sighed.

Viserys sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well, I am willing to hear the complaints of a worried governess. But be sure to remind you aunt that’s all she is. A governess."

"That's the thing," said Alicent, hesitating over the entire matter, "She asked me to make her the lady mistress of the royal nursery. So she may make decisions for all of our children, without having to disturb us."

Viserys was about to refute her, but then her words hit him. He stopped and turned to her.

"Our children?" He said, walking to her. "As in, more than one?"

"I am not sure," she answered. Alicent took his hand and placed it over her belly, still flat after she lost the weight from Aegon, but somehow softer.  He could not feel anything there, but he did not worry about that. It was too soon and the new child was probably so deep in its mother’s womb that even her body was only slightly aware of its presence. "But my courses have not come for the past three moon turns. I think we’ll have another child soon."

"Another son," he savored the idea in his mouth. "Vaeryn, we shall call him."

Alicent swallowed her disgust at the name, understanding why he chose it. For the Vale. For the Arryns. For Aemma.

"And if it’s a girl?" She asked boldly and he raised an eyebrow before stepping back, thinking. Another daughter would not displease him, he was sure, especially not with how happy Rhaenyra and Danae made him. In fact, he quite liked the idea of having another little girl toddling behind him.

"Daenys, perhaps," Viserys answered, "For the Dreamer." 

Then he bent down and kissed her. Alicent reciprocated against his lips. 

When they pulled apart, Viserys was smiling, "Now, I’m feeling generous. Tell your aunt I will consider her words."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The Stepstones

"Please, Daemon," said Aurelia when her husband denied her request once again. "Let me stay with you."

Daemon turned to look at her, a strange look upon his face. He had dark bags under his eyes, made even more visible by his pale skin. Aurelia walked over to him, grabbing his hands as she pondered whether or not to kneel before him so he could truly understand how desperate she was.

"You can’t," Daemon murmured, not unkindly. "You have to go back to King’s Landing. I took the risk the last time, but it’s for the best. You and the girls can’t stay here while you’re expecting again. It won’t be safe for you."

"We’re safe wherever you are," Aurelia responded.

"Not in this war camp," Daemon snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Not when we barely have enough rations and have no idea when this godsforsaken war will end." He gripped her hands tightly in one hand, the other coming up to cup her cheek gently. Aurelia sighed at his touch, closing her eyes as he leaned their foreheads together. "I need to know that you and our children will be well. That the girls will be healthy and safe in the Red Keep, that you will have an army of midwives and anything else you will need."

"We will be safe, with you," she insisted, but her voice was lacking conviction.

"Aurelia," said Daemon with sparkling lilac eyes. "You have to leave. If I were to die, then I need to know that you and the children will be safe and cared for. Despite my fights with my brother, I know he would see you well-settled."

"You will not die," answered Aurelia. She brought his face to hers for a kiss, pressing their mouths together. "You will die many years from now, as our grandchildren bicker over something stupid and our children look at them affectionately."

"If you say so," he smiled. "But I haven’t changed my mind. You have to go."

Aurelia closed her eyes, not wanting to believe she could possibly agree to his decision, but when she opened her eyes and saw the expression on Daemon's face, she knew the battle was already lost. "Alright. I will go, but I expect ravens. And I also want you to visit us, even if it’s only for a night, when you win this war. And, don’t act recklessly. You have two little girls who can’t lose their beloved Kepa."

He chuckled and nodded, rubbing his thumb down the line of her jaw. "I know," he murmured. "I have plenty to live for, I know it."

She smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, using the hand she used to grip his to pull him closer to their bed.

"Now, come," she murmured, falling on him and grinding her hips. "If I am to leave with the girls, then I demand a proper send off."

Daemon didn't need to be told twice.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The location was a far cry from the Sept of Advent in Starfall (and she imagined the Sept at Driftmark, as well), but Lord Corlys wished to see them wed before she returned to court with Aurelia — the man probably wished to make sure Liane wouldn’t be tempted with another offer at court and that Laenor wouldn’t be able to escape the betrothal.

Liane and Laenor stood in between the statue of the Father and the Mother, though in truth, all seven of the rocks looked exactly the same to Liane. They stood on some stacked stones, to be raised above their ‘guests’. A Septon stood between them, leading them through the mixed-faith ceremony, given that Laenor had insisted some Valyrian traditions be implemented as well. She’d been glad for that. Her parents had married in the Valyrian fashion as well, and she’d been raised worshiping both the Seven and her mother’s gods.

"Lord Giani Dayne, as the father of the bride, you may now remove the maiden's cloak from the Lady Liane," the Septon said in his monotone voice.

Her father had arrived the day before with her maiden cloak and would leave the next day, not wishing to be a part of this war longer than necessary. Reluctantly, he’d given his approval for the match, well aware it was better in standing than any other dornish lord. He removed her cloak from her shoulders and folded it over his arms.

"Ser Laenor, you may now cloak Lady Liane under your protection." 

They turned and faced each other, and Laenor draped his cloak on her with his gentle fingers, making sure it would not slip from her shoulders. This cloak was the same one that had been used by generations of Velaryon women, most recently Laena and the Princess Rhaenys.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby see you these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

"Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days."

The cloth was removed from their arms and the Valyrian part of the ceremony began. 

Laena handed her brother a dagger made of dragonglass and Liane smiled slightly, more knowledgeable about this part of the ceremony. She felt the cut on her lip and hissed, but managed to smile reassuringly at him when he looked at her worriedly before he drew the glyph for 'fire' on her forehead. 

Laenor then handed the dagger to her and she brought it to his lips, being careful not to draw too much blood. She handed the dagger back to him and then touched his lip briefly and drew the glyph for 'blood' on his forehead.

Liane dropped her hand and watched as Laenor cut the palm of his hand and then took her hand in his and sliced it the same. 

He grasped her hand with his as Aevon, one of the dragonkeepers came forward to officiate this part of the ceremony.

"Hen lantoti ānogar," the Valyrian priest spoke as their hands were wrapped together in a black cloth with golden embroidery. "Va sȳndroti vāedroma." Blood of two, joined as one. 

As the blood began to seep through the fabric and splash onto the floors, the priest continued. "Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sīr." Ghostly flame and song of shadows.

Liane accepted the goblet offered by Laenor and pressed it to her lips, drinking the wine briefly before the wound on her lip stung too much. 

"Izulī ampā perzī. Prūmī lanti sēteksi." Two hearts as embers. Forged in fourteen fires

She passed the goblet to Prince Laenor and he took it carefully. 

"Hen jenȳ māzīlaeion." A future promised in glass

"Qēlossa ozūndesi. Sȳndoro ōñō jēdo. Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi."

The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time. Of darkness and light

The vows were over, so she took a step forward and so did Laenor before he pressed his lips to her briefly.

"And with this, I proclaim Ser Laenor of the House Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark and future Lord of the Tides, and his wife, the Lady Liane of House Dayne, to be one!" 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Laenor reckoned that he was the more nervous of the two of them now that they were standing in the privacy of his tent.

Liane was quite obviously impatient as she reached a hand behind her to fiddle with the buttons on the back of her bodice. She'd only undone about four of them though before she apparently changed her mind and turned to Laenor. "Would you prefer it if I left it on?"

"Why would I prefer that?"

Liane shrugged. "I thought you might find it off putting if I were naked."

Laenor frowned at her. "Why would I find it off putting?"

"You know, because you like boys and I'm a girl?" Liane raised an eyebrow as if she thought him stupid.

Laenor grinned. "I'll cope."

Liane just rolled her eyes and returned to undoing the buttons on the back of her bodice. Laenor watched her struggle for a few moments before he realized that she needed help and he turned her around to see to the task himself. It didn’t take him long to free all of the buttons and soon all that was stopping the gown from falling to the floor was his own two hands gripping the fabric.

"Shall I?" Laenor asked.

Liane gave a rather stiff nod.

Laenor swept her hair over her shoulder to kiss the back of her neck. "Nervous?"

Liane shrugged. "Not really. It’s just that I’ve never been naked in front of a man before."

"Well that's alright. It's only me."

Liane perhaps agreed. With another rather casual shrug, she stepped out of both her dress and the thin cotton slip underneath it, letting the fabric pool on the floor at her bare feet.

"You little tart," Laenor laughed as he ran a hand down her bare back and paused by her hip. "No smallclothes tonight?"

Liane shrugged. "They would have to come off, why wear them?"

"Indeed," Laenor agreed as he put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Well?" She asked, seeking his judgement. "Boyish enough for you?"

Laenor smiled, cupping her cheek. "Very much so," he agreed, taking in her small breasts and lithe, long legs. "You're lovely."

Liane raised an eyebrow. "You're just saying that."

"No I'm not," Laenor protested with a laugh. "You’re right. What would I care for breasts or shapely hips?" He stroked her cheek rather softly.

Liane gave a small whimper when he moved his hand to her inner thigh instead of between her legs. Clearly irritated, she took his hand and tried to move it for him.

"Impatient are we?" Laenor laughed.

Liane just hummed.

"Let's get you comfortable then," Laenor murmured. Scooping her up, he laid her across his bed. He imagined that most girls would be shy but Liane seemed to have made her peace with her nakedness and she seemed unperturbed as she lay back against his pillows.

Laenor lay down beside her and stroked a hand down her side. She was desperate for him to put his hand between her legs and yet he thought not, not yet. She would be far too easy to tease and so he vowed to touch every inch of her before he gave in to her desires.

It turned out to be rather entertaining. She shuddered every time he reached the flat plane of her stomach and she gasped when he skirted around her hips to caress her inner thigh. And when he bent his head and took a nipple into his mouth, she gasped again, bucking her hips off the bed in frustration.

"Get on with it, will you?" she hissed. She put a hand into his hair, pulling on the strands even as she trembled underneath him. "And those are not for you. They are for our children."

Laenor just hummed. He deliberately took his time and he traced the nipple with his tongue until he thought he had its shape and texture committed to memory. "You’re my wife," he laughed when he finally relinquished it. "Everything is for me."

Liane clearly didn’t agree and she grabbed his hand once more. "You’re taking your time for someone who claims not to like women."

Laenor grinned. "Torturing you is amusing," he admitted. "And the aforementioned torture comes easier with a woman."

She raised her head off the pillow. "What do you mean?"

Laenor wondered how to explain it. It seemed counterintuitive almost, but it was easier to focus on her than it ever was with a boy. With men, he was too caught up in his own pleasure to give too much thought to his partner, not without great effort on his part anyway. With Liane it was easier. His mind was clearer; he was thinking more rationally. "I suppose what I mean is that I'd never have the patience to be this thorough with a man," he laughed. "I'd have fucked him twice by now."

Liane rolled her eyes. "Lovely to know," she whispered breathlessly. "But could you perhaps torture me less and actually touch me?"

She let out a deep sigh when he obeyed and he was not surprised to find that her slit was already wet. He hated the idea of causing her pain. He liked Liane and he was sure that, with time, he would come to love her — like he loved Laena or a friend.

Chapter Text

Aurelia giggles into his mouth, hands snaking into his hair. His armor lies off to the side. In the two years since they wed, they have removing his armor down to an art form.

His leg wedges in between her own. She hums into his mouth, tongue sliding past his lips. He brings his hands from her neck to her hips and slides his hands closer to her backside. She jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

He picks her up and walks over to her table. They both laugh against each other’s lips as Aurelia lands rather awkwardly on the table. 

She squeezes her legs around his hips, bringing him closer. His nose brushes against hers. She reaches up and captures his lips and he leans into her, deepening the kiss. She lets out a sigh of pleasure, tightening her legs around his waist. His cock, hard as a rock, strains against his pants. As it rocks against the inner part of her thigh, he groans in pleasure. She knows this trick works on him every time. 

"Take me to bed, I want to be fucked properly," she whispers in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. 

He cups her ass and carries her to the bed. She sucks and kisses his neck as he walks, driving him mad. She sucks at his pulse point, creating sensations of white behind his eyes. The feeling travels low and builds at his core.

He lies her down on the bed and she immediately backs up against the pillows, working to remove her shift. He sits on the edge, untying his shoes and pulling off his shirt with all the restraint he can muster. She crawls up behind him, setting her chin on his shoulder and kisses up and down his neck, making his fingers falter.

"You’re distracting me," he grunts lowly. 

"Oh poor you," she mocks. "It must be horrible to bed your beautiful wife, growing round with your child." 

Against his better judgement, he huffs a laugh. Standing up, he pulls off his pants and faces her. She lies naked before him with a lustful smirk, slowly opening her legs. His cock springs up even more as she fully opens herself to him. She’s already wet. 

He crawls over her and lingers, staring at her face. She smiles, her eyes lighting up. Gods, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She cocks her head to the side and searches his gaze. 

"What is it?" 

He clenches his jaw and kisses her. "Nothing."

Before she can respond, his hands slides up her thigh. It pries a gasp from her throat. His fingers press into her cunt lightly and she arches into him, pressing her hard nipples to his chest. He kisses all up and down her body as he pumps a finger into her slowly. She moans with each movement, hands grasping the sheets as she frantically searches for his lips, pressing desperate, sloppy kisses to them. 

He pumps a little faster, adding another digit. 

"Fuck!" She cries, pressing his head into her chest. 

He takes a breast into his mouth, circling her nipple with his tongue. He wants to be inside of her now, but watching her unravel without even using his cock is a pleasure in itself. 

"Please," she breathes out. 

He sits up, extricating himself from her skin. The absence of her touch is excruciating. He is hungry for all of her, starving for just the smallest amount of her. 

His hand moves up and down her inner thigh, the other grabbing his cock. He positions himself at her entrance and looks up to her. She’s leaned up onto her elbows, watching him with hungry eyes. 

He moves his hips forward, sliding inside of her. 

They both moan in pleasure. Her legs cushion his hips and press into his skin, like a reflex. At this point, it is.

He begins to move inside her. Slow, languid. His hands come to her head and he looks into her eyes. She returns his gaze. For a moment, he thinks he observes something other than lust behind her eyes. 

The words, "I love you" catch in his throat. 

He doesn’t love her. Does he? Fucking isn’t love. Love is more than that. It is more than nights spent together, finding pleasure in each other. It has to be more.

But the burning desire in his heart says otherwise.

Love. 

Does he love her? She wraps her arms around his neck and brings him closer. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, slowly driving deeper into her. She moans into his ear, making his cock twitch. Her legs move back and forth as he rocks into her, savoring the feeling of her clenching around him. 

He goes faster, hips snapping against hers. Her moans are like music to his ears, stoking the blazing fire in his stomach. He takes her mouth with his lips, silencing her. She tastes so good it blinds him. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and disjointed, a sign he is already close to his peak. She keeps whispering, "Don’t stop", which he’s come to know is a sign she’s close to her peak. 

He drives into her, inching her body up the mattress with the sheer force of his lust for her. He can’t help himself. She reaches down and grabs his ass, as if to push him even deeper. 

He continues to move inside of her with the control of a mad man - which is none. The blinding white of his climax grows close, and as she whispers his name, it explodes. 

He gasps, thrusting one last time inside of her. The release is godly and strangled breaths escape his body. 

"Fuck," he whispers, breath heavy. 

When the ecstasy fades away, he turns and descends upon her with his fingers. 

She smiles and moans at the same time, back arching up off the bed. She whines and fists the sheets as his two fingers curl and move inside of her. 

"Feels good?"

"Yes," she responds breathily, face turning into the sheets. 

He kisses along her neck and rubs her clit with his thumb. He continues to do this until she’s crying out and on the verge of tears. She comes with feverish intensity.

His cock is already hard again. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Evergreen Cove, The Reach

To Randyll Fossoway,

I'm writing to inform you that I've…

Edrick stopped when he heard a sound. He looked over his shoulder to see Janna was readjusting under the blankets of the bed, but still looked to be asleep. He couldn't help but smile as he admired her form, even after all these mornings together, he still couldn't get use to this sight.

Satisfied, that she wouldn't wake, Edrick turned his attention back to the letter he tried to draft. This was not his first attempt, he had lost count at how many he had begun these past few months. Even now in the early morning light, he wasn't certain of this approach. He cared for her, but they had agreed not to seek a betrothal between them.

They had agreed not to seek a betrothal — that this would be kept between them and yet, as his uncle remarried, as Daemon chose his own bride and had children and lords began to seek Rhaenyra’s hand, others remembered he also had the dragon blood. They were starting to inquire as to his marital status, seeking a betrothal between him and their maiden daughters and he couldn’t stand it.

It was because of these new developments that he was considering putting aside his agreement with Janna and seek her hand in marriage. A selfish solution, he knew, but one that became more tempting the longer he remained unattached and the target of families' ambitions.

Wasn't it better to marry a friend than a stranger?

He turned back to his letter to the Lord of Cider Hall and Janna's uncle, Randyll Fossoway.

To Randyll Fossoway,

I'm writing to inform you that I've grown fond of your niece in the time I've come to know her over the last few years. We grew up together and formed a close bond in Highgarden and have often traveled to see each other since my fosterage ended and I took control of my land. That is why I find myself writing to you to broach the subject of a possible betrothal between myself and your niece, the Lady Janna Fossoway.

He read it again, and when he finished, he rolled it up but he put it into the flickering flame of the candle that was beside him.

He watched it burn as he imagined the answer her uncle would've given, but then he heard the answer she'd tell him. It was a disappointment he didn't want to confront so he enjoyed it for what it was — a distraction.

"Morning," she stirred from her sleep.

"Morning," he replied in turn, his eyes on the flame that burned away any evidence of his momentary weakness and lapse of judgment. Satisfied that it was gone, he turned to see she was sitting up. Her curls were a dangling mess falling over her face. Her silk shift was a pale green that seemed to only accentuate her curves.

She took a vial of moontea that had been kept in one of the drawers, opening it and drinking its contents in a one sip. When she emptied it, her eyes found him, even the early morning couldn't dim the light in her laughing blue eyes. 

"Are you hungry?"

"I have other thoughts for sating my appetite," she purred when she reached him, her breath tickled his ear, her sultry tone stirring Edrick's own desires. She then leaned over him, aware of how her body touched his as she grabbed an apple from the bowl.

It was tempting. His body was already betraying him, reacting to her beauty and her touches

Before he could give her a proper reply, she spoke again.

"What is it that you were doing?"

The change in her tone caused him to frown. He looked to see her alert blue eyes were looking down at the scraps of parchment, he had spread out before him. "I was writing."

"To who?" The suspicion in her voice was palpable.

In the heartbeat of silence that it took him to answer, he debated on whether to lie or not before settling on the truth. "Your uncle."

"My uncle," she repeated, dismay flickering across her expression. "You were writing to him about a betrothal."

"I was," Edrick stood up. "I didn't send it," he noticed how she went tense and stiff at the revelation. "I have not forgotten our agreement."

That seemed to placate some of her temper that looked to be storming behind her blue eyes. "Then why did you write it?"

"Because if I am to be wed then I'd rather be wed to you than some stranger."

"Do you think we'd be happy?"

"Yes."

She smiled at him, but it was a sad smile, her eyes shone with sympathy. "We wouldn't," she said softly.

"My uncle would poison what we have, what we cherish," she took his hand in hers. "You’d be a possession for him. Having his niece married to you, having our children be related to him…he’d try to use us as pawns for his political games. He’d try to use your blood to gain more influence and standing at court," her lips curled in disgust at what she envisioned for them. She shook her head, eyes wet with tears. "I love my uncle, but I care too much for you to let his ambition reach us," she bowed her head, "You deserve better than that."

Edrick mulled her words in silence, finding it difficult to poke past her reasoning. He didn't know Lord Fossoway, so how could he argue against her when it came to knowing the man's heart and intentions. "I understand," he wasn't sure what else to say, and those words alone tasted just as bitter as the rejection he just faced.

"I'm sorry," she ran her hand over his cheek, blue eyes glistening, before she turned away and took a breath to compose herself. "This day has not been kind to you, my lord," she said softly. "And it's only just begun," the laugh that followed sounded more a hiccup than a chuckle.

"It started well enough," he assured her, his hands resting on her hips as her back remained to him.

"I fear I need to tell you something, my prince," her tone was somber. "I am leaving back for Highgarden in a few days."

"I understand. Your aunt calls for you?"

"It isn't that. I received a raven from her yesterday. I am betrothed."

"I see," his heart pounded inside him. "We knew this day would come." He struggled to maintain his stoicism at this reeling revelation.

"We did," her voice was tight.

He looked anywhere but her. Edrick worried how his will would crumple if he was to look upon her. He busied himself with his meal, cutting up bread. "Is it a good match?"

"It's Lord Donald Tarly."

"That is a very good match," he observed. The Tarlys were an ancient house and Donald was the current heir. Horn Hill was well-positioned and despite its appearance, the family was rich. Janna would be happy.

"It is," she repeated quietly.

"I wish you and your groom nothing but good fortune and happiness."

"Look at me."

He wanted to refuse her request. He should've demanded that she leave, but he didn't. He looked to see her face wrought with concern. "Do not be so formal with me." There was a pleading look in her blue eyes.

"You are betrothed. It would be improper."

"You act like we have not known each other for most of our lives," she murmured. "As if we have not slept skin to skin for years already. I doubt he'll expect the sheets to be red."

"And if he does?"

She shrugged, undeterred, "I've been riding for years," Her lips curved into an impish smile when she added. "He doesn’t have to know the last few years I’ve been riding a dragon."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The Stepstones

If he were not still coming down from the high and the adrenaline of battle, Laenor would not have paid attention to the footsteps coming towards him. But his senses are extremely attuned, his body still dealing with the aftermath of killing and fighting. He expected to find Daemon or his father coming towards him, but instead he found Laena with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Laenor."

Laenor smiled at his sister, still trying to read her face.

"You’re needed further in the camp," Laena said as she fiddled with her hands. 

"What is it?" Laenor pressed.

His sister pressed her lips into a thin line. "I think it’s best you follow me." 

The pace at which Laena walked through the camp did not reassure him. Was it their father? Had he taken an injury? No, Laenor had seen him after landing Seasmoke. Their father was fine, apart from a few scrapes.

Laena stopped outside a tent in the area of the camp that served as a makeshift infirmary, and Laenor stormed in, only to freeze at the sight in front of him. Aurelia nearly ran into him, stepping around him at the last second and gasping sharply. The ground continued to sway as Laenor stumbled into the tent.

"Laenor," Aurelia trailed off. She said nothing else as Laenor shuffled closer. How long has she known? How long had they known before coming to get him?

The figure on the cot — a figure, because his mind refused to name him — lay limp, with one arm dangling over the edge. His skin was almost gray, and shallow breaths resonated through the area. Blood pooled swiftly beneath him, blending with his hair and clothes. 

"Why didn’t you send for me sooner?" Laenor demanded. He threw herself to the ground beside the cot. The blood soaked into him. How long had he been like this?  "What happened?"

Joffrey’s breath continued to come in quick gasps, and his skin was clammy beneath his palms. He restated his question louder when no one answered, only to be met with a grim silence.

Laenor wrenched her gaze from the man before him, only to find the room empty. They’d all left. They gave up on him. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give up on him. He spotted the supplies left by the maester across the tent and clambered to his feet to grab them, only to be stopped by Joffrey’s rasping voice. "Laenor."

He settled back on the floor upon hearing his voice, shushed him. "It’s alright. You're going to be okay." 

He shook his head. "I was hit," he breathed out. "Everywhere. My stomach took the worst of it." 

His free hand trembled towards the edge of the blanket. He shushed him again and guided his hand back to the cot. Laenor peeled black the blanket and had to bite back a gasp. 

Joffrey’s stomach was mangled. Whoever had stabbed him had not done so cleanly and his entrails were only still inside him because of the bandages someone had applied to him.

Laenor replaced the blanket with jittery hands. "You will be just fine."

"You’re—" he coughed and blood splattered out. "You’re lying." 

"I would never lie to you. We promised never to lie to one another. Remember?" 

"Aye, I remember," Joffrey tried to laugh, but instead more blood collected around his mouth. 

Laenor closed his eyes and counted to ten, like his mother had taught him and Laena when they were children. 

"Rest now," he whispered. "I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Rest, so that when the war is over you might show me the Stormlands. It’s okay."

He didn’t react. 

"Joffrey?" 

Chapter Text

The Stepstones

When Liane returned to the tent she share with Laenor, she found him staring dazedly ahead, dried tear tracks on his face.

"Hullo," her husband said glumly. 

Liane smiled weakly at him and approached him. "Your father all but shoved me back into our tent."

Laenor's teary eyes glanced at her. "Surely you do not expect..." 

"I don’t. But there are whispers across the camp. Whispers that others have brought to his attention."

"About?"

"About — about, well, us."

"And?"

"He is less than pleased that after our wedding night, we didn’t share a tent again. He wants an heir," Liane murmured. 

Laenor chuckled to himself. "Good for him."

"Good for him? I needed to listen to your father talk to me about this. I had to listen to a man old enough to be my grandfather talk to me about my wifely duties, Laenor!"

"That does sound mortifying," Laenor muttered. "But it is none of his business, it is none of anyone's business."

"He disagrees," Liane sighed. "He considers it our duty to perform." 

Laenor groaned. "That is not his decision to make."

"He thinks it is."

"It is not," he muttered stiffly.

"Laenor," she murmured. "I know things have changed, but we will be expected to have children, to give your father an heir for Driftmark."

"Lucerys can have it," Laenor suggested. "He is as much Velaryon as our children will be."

"He’s a Martell."

"He’s Laena’s son. He can change his name when he ascends the Driftwood Throne."

"Laenor, your father expects us to have children. Your mother will expect grandchildren as well. And so will the rest of the lords. It’s our duty."

"I - I cannot do this, not now," he muttered. "I - I - I will not do this. I am sorry."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The Citadel

Most of the maesters disliked the idea of being chosen as the Seneschal. It was a tedious position and held little allure for men who sought knowledge.

Caethan however, thrives in this office. It’s not his, not truly — he’s merely acting as the assistant for the most recent appointment, Archmaester Vaegon. Unofficially however, Caethan handles all the administrative matters while the Archmaester is free to pursue other matters.

And this works just fine for them.

Under normal circumstances, the son of a courtesan from Essos would have had a hard time getting to Old Town on his own. However, his mother left behind the life of a courtesan long ago and found herself in the heart of a very rich man. 

Though his mother did not like to be reminded, she called herself Queen of Whores and that was it. Yet, in the end, Saera had handled herself satisfactorily and expected the same of her children.

Two of his brothers had families of their own, marrying women of the Old Blood despite their births and making smart investments to line their coffers. His only sister had been called by their family and was apparently quite happy about it. Lucas was the only one who remained with their mother and was being taught by his father on how to govern (the expectation being, of course, that in some years he would take the mantle of being the Triarch).

"I read that letter you sent to my niece in my name," grumbles Vaegon from the door. "Next time at least try to sound like me. The familiarity was over the top, if it got into the wrong hands it would end badly. And by badly, I mean I would look like a sentimental fool." 

"I was writing to your niece, Archmaester, I thought it would be…" Caethan tries.

"Have I ever called you "beloved nephew" or any of that drivel?" The man asks then. "No!" Vaegon shouts, without letting him answer. "So don’t expect it towards that lot. I don’t have time for that."

Caethan shouldn’t be surprised at the bluntness with which he was speaking. Not to say, however, that he was used to being spoken to that way. However, if things went as his cousins expected, it might serve them all well to have him be so blunt. 

"What exactly do they hope for, do you know? A spy in the heart of Oldtown? I am the smarter choice than Rhaella or Maegelle, anyone would have to concede. Although not as pious as our Queen, they still believe in the vows made and still set aside our family name."

Caethan did not think that was their goal. No, information from Oldtown could be obtained through many different channels. "I don’t believe so. Information is one the pillars of any conflict, but it can be gained easily. Men talk. My mother could easily plant a few girls in the brothels near the High Tower, some servants inside their home and be done with it. No, if they can remember that there are Targaryens in the Citadel and in the Starry Sept, so can others."

Vaegon nodded, considering. "Then, what do you think is their plan?"

"You are still a Targaryen Prince, the only remaining son of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. They are preparing for conflict, I believe, and want to straighten their power base with true born Targaryens."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The ride on Caraxes to Dragonstone had been long and tiresome. Or maybe Aurelia was just tired. After all, it seemed to be a constant those last few days, and Aurelia had had to force herself to stay awake on more than one occasion on the ride. At least the girls seemed to enjoy it. They were awkwardly strapped to her and she was likewise chained to the saddle, but they didn’t seem to mind. Alyssa laughed the whole way, while Baela seemed content to drift off to sleep smiling. 

Everything seemed taken care of in Dragonstone, certainly courtesy of Rhaenyra and Viserra. They were quickly informed that the king and the royal household should arrive within the next few days before they would all return to the capital together. She didn’t mind, given that Daemon still had to return so he and Laenor could escort the ship carrying most of her belongings as well as Lucerys and her ladies back to Westeros. Luke would be left under the care of his grandmother while Laena returned to the fight atop Vhagar and after the brief stop, her friends would be once again at her side.

Aurelia felt Daemon’s hands on her shoulders from behind her, and relaxed a bit in her place before sighing.

"You will be attended to, as befits your station."

She nodded, expecting him to continue, but he never did. At some point, the silence became unbearable enough for her to fill it herself.

"I hope the war is over quickly," she murmured. "I want our children to know you."

"We’re almost done," he nodded, staring down at her. He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and looked at the wide windows facing the sea with a sigh. "I hope we’ll be back at the capital by the time you give birth."

She opened her mouth to answer, but ended up not saying anything. Aurelia jumped in place slightly, which was noted by him. Maybe something was wrong, after all. 

"What is it?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She breathed in, with a small smile, and Daemon decided nothing was wrong after all.

"I need your hand," Aurelia announced, still looking up at him.

"Why?"

Her face scrunched up to a frown, holding out her hand insistently. Stifling a laugh, Daemon raised a hand for her, which was promptly taken. She placed it over the swell of her stomach, still not very large, but there, and heard his breath quicken when he felt the slight movement under his palm. It was faint, likely stronger and easier for her to feel than him, but there.

"Your son doesn’t like long travels," she breathed, being pulled closer. Daemon didn’t remove his hand, however, and was kicked again, stronger that time. Aurelia leaned against him, careful not to move too much. 

"He is large for his age," he answered at last. He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly.

Aurelia groaned. "No, let this be a small baby. I don’t want a complicated birth again."

"Keira assured us there’s only one babe this time," he murmured, still in awe from the movement.

"Let’s hope so."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

The Red Keep, King’s Landing

The guards stationed at his wife’s door did not hesitate to let him enter and he found Alicent sitting on the loveseat at her outer chamber, reading the Seven-Pointed Star as her ladies-in-waiting sat around her. One was playing the flute, and though Viserys knew she came from the Reach, he couldn’t remember her name.

"Your Majesty," said Lady Rosamund Hightower, dipping into a curtsy. His wife had insisted on having her aunt serve her and she was seated next to the Queen, dressed in a severe blue gown. "May I offer you refreshments?"

"No, thank you," he said. Alicent rose from her sitting position and smiled at him, coming to kiss him. When they stepped away, Viserys nodded at her ladies-in-waiting. "Please, leave me alone with my wife." They nodded and left, setting their things aside so they could return to their duties once Viserys left.

When they were alone, Viserys allowed himself to place a hand on Alicent’s stomach. The baby inside took a few moments to stir, but he felt a strong kick and a bemused smile crossed his face, feeling the strong movements of his son. His son. For so long, Viserys had no son and soon, he would have his third son. Just the thought of it threatened to burst his heart in happiness.

Alicent laid her hand atop his and smiled. "He is eager," she said. "I can barely sleep when he moves at night."

He looked at her. Her face was flushed with life, but he couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes and the pale flutter of her pulse point. It made him think of Aemma and the pain he put her through, how he had killed her in his pursuit of a son. "Are you ill?" He asked. "Should I call the maester?"

"No, not at all," said Alicent. "Please, Viserys, don’t worry about me." Her eyes searched his face and her smile softened down into a thin line. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," he said. "But I wish to go with the children to Dragonstone, so they see their ancestral seat and we may welcome Aurelia and her daughters into the family. I would like for you to come with us."

Alicent shook her head and bit her lower lip. "I would love to," she said. "But our son is very strong and eager. I’m afraid I couldn’t withstand the sailing."

"Of course," he murmured. Then, Viserys leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Please rest. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you and the babe." She nodded and rose up on her toes to press her lips against his in a short kiss, her fingers touching his chin.

When they stepped back, Alicent moved. "I have a gift for the girls," she said and took a small chest from her table, offering it to him. "I had it commissioned from one of the artisans in the city. I hoped to give it to them myself, but…"

Viserys nodded and took the chest into his hand. "Of course," he said. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "I’m sure they could sail back on their own. You deserve to meet them when the rest of us do."

Alicent smiled brightly. "Do you mean it? Oh, Viserys, that would make me so happy!"

"I remember how close you and Aurelia were and it’s clear you care for her daughters as well," he explained. "It wouldn’t be right for me to keep you from meeting them when I do."

"Oh, thank you!" She threw her arms around him. "This means so much to me!"

Viserys nodded. "You are so much like Aemma sometimes," he whispered. Alicent’s smile faltered and he saw as her eyes lost some of their shine, but she said nothing. When he lowered his lips to kiss her, her lips were cold.

Chapter Text

112 - 120 AC

I hold a dangerous hurricane inside, 

I am the bringer of harsh waves

That cause sailors and ships to drown

— Nadia McGhee, Amphitrite

𝙀𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙪𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩

𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘧𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘈𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭. 𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘈𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘥 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.

"Don’t you dare pity her

She traded watchful eyes for a court of her own

She turned the world upside down to find freedom"

— anonymous | Persephone was the real winner

We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin. […] Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come.

— Clementine von Radics | Mouthful of Forevers

𝙀𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙁𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳’𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘈𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘴’ 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴’ 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘈𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦.

"we were both created in chaos, 

we were both born to destroy. 

you were like death, 

and I was like war. 

and where we collided, 

darling, I loved you."

— born disasters || k.a.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra stood by her father's side, holding Danae’s hand to ensure she wouldn’t run away. The girl was eager to see Aurelia again, but quite impatient. Alicent stood on her father’s other side, Aegon in her arms.

She straightened up as the wheelhouse rolled through the gates, wondering how much could Aurelia have changed in the two years that had passed since they last saw each other. As soon as it stopped, a footman went to open the door and almost immediately a little girl with olive skin tripped down, a cry of 'be careful' coming from behind her as Aurelia took the steps down carefully, one of her daughters clutched to her chest. 

Aurelia immediately collected herself and took her other daughter’s hand in her own as three other women left the wheelhouse, taking their place behind her.

Her father broke from the line then and reached for Aurelia’s hands, clasping them tightly. 

"Sister," he beamed at her. "I see there's been two wonderful additions to our family, and one to come yes?"

Aurelia nodded. "Yes, two little girls. Alyssa is the elder, here in my arms, and Baela came just a few minutes afterwards. Named after your parents, Your Grace."

"May I?"

Aurelia looked hesitant, but she nodded, gesturing for her father to take Baela, rather than Alyssa.

Viserys cooed at the toddler, bouncing her slightly in his arms.

"What a fine princess you are, hmm?" 

The girl decided to bare her teeth at her uncle. "No pwicess! Agon!"

Aurelia gave the child a smile, gesturing for one of her ladies to take Baela back from her father as she passed Alyssa into another’s arms, the babe barely even stirring at the change in arms holding her.

"Baela has her father’s spirit," she explained. "I dread the headaches she’ll cause when she’s older."

Her father chuckled as Alicent gave the girls a displeased look, interfering into the conversation. "Husband. Would it not be prudent to introduce Aegon?" 

"Yes! Yes! Of course!" Her father says eagerly, taking her half-brother into his arms before passing him into a surprised Aurelia’s arms. After analyzing her, he seemed to deem her alright in his eyes because quite quickly the toddler settled into her arms, the woman bouncing him slightly.

Rhaenyra saw as Otto shot Aurelia an annoyed look and felt a stab of delight at his face. 

Aegon stared at Aurelia’s face with a surprisingly focused look for one so young. He placed a pudgy hand on her cheek, gazing into her eyes. Rhaenyra looked down as she felt a tugging in her dress, meeting her sister’s eyes.

Not caring of the audience or for her dress, she knelt down and cupped Danae’s face on her hands. "What’s wrong, sweet one?"

"Is that Amma?" She asked shyly and she had to suck in a breath, not prepared for the question. Of course, she remembered Danae had referred to Aurelia as such and she knew what the word meant in the old Rhoynish tongue, but she’d not been prepared to face it again. She’d thought her sister would have forgotten it, with her having been so young when Aurelia had been recalled to Dorne. She’d hoped Danae missed her presence and her comfort, more than she missed having a surrogate mother, since she’d never quite taken to Alicent.

"Yes," she sighed. "She is your Amma."

What else could she say? Danae would have no memories of Aemma Arryn, not when their mother had died the same day of her birth. But Aurelia had stepped up, had gone above and beyond the duties required of her as head of the new Princess’s household. Aemma might have gone to the heavens, but if Aurelia could fill the hole left behind in her younger sister’s life, then, who was she to interfere?

When Danae cocked her head towards the scene in front of them, she nodded and the little girl shyly stepped forward.

Aurelia’s eyes brightened as she saw the little girl step towards her and she bent down a little, eagerly hugging the younger princess and taking her into her arms, somehow having enough space and strength for both toddlers.

Rhaenyra had to admit that Aurelia looked the perfect picture of a Targaryen consort and mother. Two young children calmly curled against her chest, the beginnings of a swell in her stomach showing through her dress and two more girls held in the arms of her ladies directly behind her. 

Alicent and Otto looked as though they'd been made to suck on lemons. Rhaenyra had to stifle a laugh.

"Your Grace." Otto injects in his slimy, snake-like voice. "Perhaps it would be best if the Princess is shown to her room."

Aurelia gives Otto a sharp smile. "Yes, I am very tired indeed," she says clearly. "The babe is quite active. My midwife says it’s a sign this one is a boy."

Her father nods his head furiously, reaching out a hand to place on her stomach. Aurelia, however, grabs his wrist tightly, stopping him from touching her stomach and glares at him angrily. There's a tense silence, where one could hear a pin drop and everybody seems to hold a collective breath. When she looks at Otto, Rhaenyra can see the grin on his face, no doubt at the thought Aurelia would get into trouble,

However, Aurelia forced her face into a tense smile, and released her father's hand. "I'd rather you not, Your Grace. The babe is kicking quite hard today, and it pains me."

"Yes, yes, my apologies," he says, his face morphing into concern. "Do you need a maester? Perhaps something for the pain? 

Aurelia shakes her head, handing Aegon back to him, but making no move to let go of Danae, the girl instead snuggling deeper into her neck.

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He had prepared the apartments for Aurelia in The Refuge (as specified by Daemon’s letter), had set his aunt in charge of the nursery for his nieces and had ordered for appropriate apartments to be furnished for the ladies in waiting she was bringing alongside her.

He had positively rejoiced at the idea of having more of his family near, even if they didn’t know each other as such. Now that Aurelia was back in the Red Keep, he wouldn’t squander the chance to build a relationship with her — perhaps that would be the way to start building a new relationship with Daemon.

And he wanted to be close to his brother’s children. The two girls that were already here, named after their parents and the child that was still nestled in its’ mother’s womb.

He had ordered a maid to let the nurseries know to bring his nieces and his younger children to him after their nap and he hoped it hadn’t been a mistake.

"Your Grace," the Dondarrion woman curtsied slightly as she lead his daughter inside, the twins and Aegon having been brought earlier. They were sitting on a blanket on the floor, being watched like a hawk by Aurelia’s Essosi woman, who had perched herself on the corner of the room.

Viserys nodded, smiling as he watched his youngest daughter curtsy to him gracefully. She was only four and half years old, but her curtsy was perfect, better than even the most seasoned courtier’s, much like her mother. Aemma had adapted perfectly to court when their grandmother had first brought her to the capitol on the back of Silverwing and their youngest seemed to be a natural courtier, just like her.

"Danae," he called to her and watched happily as the little girl walked to him, taking his extended hand. 

"I wish to introduce you to new family," he told her as he led her to where her cousins were playing. "These are your Uncle Daemon’s daughters. You remember the stories Nyra and I have told you?"

Danae regarded the girls critically. "Yes, Papa," she responded carefully.

Viserys nearly sighed, for one moment wishing Danae would be more like her sister. Rhaenyra had always been wild, she had never been as calm or as careful as Danae was. He absently wondered how much of that was his fault.

"They are your Amma’s daughters as well."

This seemed to cause a spark in her eyes. His youngest daughter did not find much of an interest in Aegon. He believed that despite everyone telling her that the boy was her brother, Danae could feel there was something different. She knew they had different mothers, just as she knew that Alicent hadn’t birthed her. In the moons following Aurelia’s departure from court, his daughter had cried for her Amma and Viserys had wondered if allowing their bond to become so strong had been wise. Now, having seen the display in the courtyard, he knew it was. Danae needed a mother in her life and she seemed to have chosen Aurelia for the role. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Alicent to mother her, nor would it be to expect Rhaenyra to be a mother to her sister. Aurelia had stepped seamlessly into the role when Danae was an infant and it seemed his daughter was happy to accept her back into it.

"My Amma is their Amma also?" The girl asked carefully. 

"Yes," Viserys nodded. "Your Amma married Uncle Daemon and they had Alyssa and Baela. They are your cousins."

"They are not like Aegon?" She checked as she approached them.

"No," he laughed slightly. "They are not like Aegon."

That seemed to be enough for her as she plopped down on the blanket.

"Who is who?" She asked.

He was glad he had asked the same question when they’d first been brought. "Alyssa is in red and Baela is in white."

Danae tilted her head as Baela grabbed on to her hands, pulling herself up and stumbling a bit as she attempted to walk. 

Danae laughed, "I like her."

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"I’m Madalyn Hill, my lady," her new maid greeted, curtsying as she enters her rooms. 

Aurelia bowed her head. "Please call me Aurelia," she said as she turned her head, cocking it slightly in recognition. "I believe I recognize you. Have we met before?"

The girl blushed as she started on her duties. "I was Queen Aemma’s maid, my…Aurelia. When Lord Caswell heard you wished for formal appointments into your household, he sought me out in the kitchens."

Aurelia nodded. "You were sent to the kitchens after her passing then?"

Madalyn stilled from where she was arranging some linens in the drawers. "Ser Otto had all of us — all of Queen Aemma’s maids — dismissed following the announcement of Queen Alicent’s first pregnancy. Some of us were lucky enough to retain our jobs in the castle, at least."

Aurelia pursed her lips, but said nothing.

"But Lord Caswell reassigned us all to your household, my lady," Madelyn continued. "If you ever need anything, feel free to ask me. I will be happy to serve you."

"Thank you, Maddalyn."

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It was somehow symbolic that her return to the Keep was the opposite of how she’d first left it as a child of ten namedays. When she’d first left for Oldtown, she’d been the precious third daughter of the King and Queen, with two older brothers and two older sisters still living — their family was strong, their control over Westeros unchallenged. Now, she returned in the middle of the night in secrecy into a castle that was her nephew’s. Little Viserys was weak and that weakness was showing itself with how little control he truly had over the realm. His Hand ruled, or so they said in Oldtown.

She ruminates on this as she follows Ser Jamie Belmore through the tunnels. 

"Princess Maegelle, Your Highness," Ser Jamie announces once he lets her into a private solar. It is not the King’s or the Queen’s solar, but she does not recognize it. However, with the amount of marriages that have occurred since she was sent to Oldtown, that is not so strange. Obviously, each woman married into the family would leave their mark — from Jocelyn’s Baratheon and Velaryon ancestry to her own niece’s Arryn upbringing and now the Martell and Hightower girls who have married her nephews.

"Thank you, Ser Jamie," a young, dark-haired woman with a swollen stomach says. With the three girls playing on the floor, she deduces the girl is Princess Aurelia — her youngest nephew’s wife. The two identical girls might as well be copies of their mother, but both Daella and Aemma come to mind when she looks at the older, blonde girl on the floor. Aemma’s youngest then, Danae. A strange name for a Targaryen.

"I hope the journey was not too troublesome, Princess Maegelle," Aurelia says. "I know firsthand how uncomfortable long journeys can be, be they by ship or by land."

"It was as fine as it could be."

"That’s good," she murmurs, before looking at one of her ladies. "Marianne, please take the girls back to the nursery. It’s well past their bedtime."

The twin girls let themselves be helped to their feet, but the older girl protests, looking at her new aunt. "Amma! I wanna stay! I not sleep."

Aurelia sighs and nods. "You can stay with me, but you have to be quiet then. Alright?"

Danae nods and goes to sit by Aurelia, the woman immediately pulling her closer as the other girl, Marianne takes the younger two to the nursery to prepare them for sleep. 

After a few moments of silence, Aurelia speaks. "Thank you for coming."

"It is not wise to refuse a summons from the King."

Aurelia’s eyes narrow. "Princess, you know that it was not my goodbrother who asked you to return to court. And, you had no reason to fulfill a request from a second son’s bride. By coming here, you took a risk."

"Every decision we make is a gamble, my lady. May I sit?" 

Aurelia nods, biting her lip nervously as she gestures to one of the empty seats in front of her.

"Now, why have you called me here?" Maegelle asks. "I doubt you simply wished to meet your husband’s aunt."

"You’re right," the woman smiles, shifting a dozing Danae so the little girl’s head rests on her lap. "I feared as to how I would be received at court once I came back. The warm reception surprised me, to say the least. But, because I did not know what to expect, I believed that having some Targaryen support might improve my situation if it came down to it."

"And you believe a largely forgotten Princess would be enough?" Maegelle has to resist the urge to scoff. She would not be surprised if most of the court has forgotten her, she was sent to Oldtown so young and rarely came back, after all.

"I thought a Targaryen Princess turned Septa and an Archmaester of Targaryen blood would be a good place to start," Aurelia corrects.

"You sent word to Vaegon."

The younger woman nods. "I haven’t received a confirmation he will return to court, but I’m hopeful. I know you have educated more than enough girls and that, perhaps, you expected to retire in Oldtown and start teaching a new generation of Septas. But I would ask you to take care of my children’s education."

"I dislike the court," she answers. "Are you planning on staying here, even after my nephew’s little war ends?"

"Daemon has plans to claim the islands for himself, so one day our children can inherit them," Aurelia answers easily. "I have no wish for my children to grow up here, do not fear. We’ll probably only stay here until Rhaenyra has married and visit a few times a year. I like the court, but it is no place for children."

Maegelle nods and the woman’s amber eyes light up.

"There is a set of rooms here made available for you to make your own. Let me know if there is anything you require."

"Where in the Red Keep are we? It’s not the Holdfast or Tower of the Hand. I might not have been as adventurous as some of my siblings, but I spent more than enough time in the passages and did not recognize the ones that brought me here."

"The Refuge. As I understand, the Black Brides were kept here by Maegor and years later, this part of the keep housed your siblings once they were married. My daughters’ nursery once housed Princess Rhaenys, King Viserys and Daemon. This solar was Prince Aemon’s. The rooms I ordered be prepared for you were Lady Jocelyn’s. If you’d prefer Princess Alyssa’s rooms, I’m sure they can be made ready for tomorrow night…" She’s rambling now, her age and the weight of the expectations placed on her making her drop the act of the consummate courtier and reveal the child underneath. Because that is what she is — for all that she might be twenty namedays old, that she is married, that she has two children and another on the way, she is a child in contrast to Maegelle and the half century she has lived already.

"Hush, child," Maegelle lays her hand on hers. "Jocelyn’s rooms are more than fine. Now, go rest. We can speak more on the morrow."

Chapter Text

Being back in the Red Keep after having tasted freedom in her homeland and in the Stepsones is, admittedly, an adjustment. Once more, the food she is served is bland and tasteless and she is surrounded by men who see women as nothing more than adornment and a tool for childbearing.

Women who’d previously had no problem with her now look upon her with suspicion and false smiles. She feels the hairs on her neck and arms rise when they interact and she knows deep inside she has very few friends in the capital. They are wolves, and lions, and foxes, and snakes — beasts, all of them. They smile, bright and blooming when it suits them, but behind is the promise of blood.

I am a Martell, she thinks. I am the sun. All beasts bow to the sun.

And, yet, Aurelia becomes a Targaryen in a Targaryen court.

She must do so, even if she hates it. Her daughters and the child growing in her womb are Targaryens and they only have her for protection. The court is filled with vipers who would not hesitate to use her girls and they are only babes. Aurelia must become a Targaryen in order for them to be safe.

She wears her thick, dark hair in the Northern style, piled on top of her head with a single braid draped around the curve of her breast. She has not let it down in public since she left the Stepsones, and in court, out of the corner of her eyes, when she glimpses the man her husband so hates, Otto Hightower, eyeing her with grim approval, she lets her mouth curl, and quenches the fire in the pit of stomach, her Dornish soul.

She wears heavy dresses in the Northern style, of samite and cloth-of-gold and Myrish lace, but no more silks, no — she does not wear any more silks, any more veils, not even in the privacy of her own chambers. Daemon has married a Dornish princess, yes, but Dornish princesses will not survive long in King’s Landing. Once, she leaned more into her Swann heritage; now she must do the same. Aurelia puts her silks and her veils away, and dutifully, every morning, tells Maddalyn to braid her hair, and allows Keira and Liane to help her into the heavy folds of her dresses, red and black and gold. She is a Targaryen now. She must be.

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Harwin noticed her in the first week the Princess Aurelia returned to court — a tall, slim woman with dark hair and expressive blue eyes. Someone like her was hard to miss and in the days after the Princess returned, he was determined to catch more glimpses of her and her ladies, hoping to see her again.

Over the days he learned that she was from the Dornish Marches. The only Stormlander amongst Princess Aurelia’s ladies. 

Although there were others who served the Princess, three with the official title of her lady-in-waiting, Harwin only had eyes for her.

It had been nearly a moon when they were finally pushed together by circumstance. The King was throwing a feast to celebrate their return to court and Harwin was eager to pull her into the floor, heart beating strong inside his chest. The woman accepted with a bright smile, looking up at him with flushed cheeks. She was tall, but he was taller still.

"What is your name, my Lady?"

She smiled even wider. "I'm Lady Marianne Dondarion, Ser."

Harwin held her hand in his, stroking the soft knuckles of her fingers. 

"Marianne," he whispered, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

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Towards the end of the meeting, Viserys turned his attention to Lyonel Strong, his Master of Laws. 

A quiet and sombre man, he spent most of his time listening. Although most would deem him a slow simpleton, those close to him knew of his great mind, and Aurelia knew he was not to be underestimated. 

She listened as Viserys thanked him for his aid in organizing the upcoming hunt for his son’s second nameday and praised him for his son’s actions so far in the City Watch. 

Lord Strong thanked the King.

"I give my humble thanks, Your Grace. If I may have your permission, I would like to make a request both to you and to our princesses."

Aurelia immediately turned her attention unto him.

"Speak freely, Lord Strong," Viserys replied. "My daughter, goodsister and I will listen to anything you might ask of us."

"As you know, Your Grace, Your Highnesses, besides my sons Ser Harwin and Larys, our Master of Whispers, I also have two daughters, who remained in the Riverlands when Your Grace gave me the honor of making me your Master of Laws," Lord Lyonel gave a big pause that made them think he was done talking, that was, until he spoke again. "Thus, I would ask, Your Grace, if a place could be found for my girls in the royal household of the Princesses."

"I’m sure it could be arranged," Aurelia spoke. "I have space for more ladies and I believe Rhaenyra does as well."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Lord Strong spoke again. "My eldest, Emilee, is a great rider and hunter. She’s also excellent with a bow and arrow and has a beautiful voice. She was recently widowed and I think coming to court would help her at this time. My younger daughter, Bethany, is a wonderful dancer and has a great aptitude for music, she is also an excellent rider."

"Then I believe we could each welcome one into our ladies," Rhaenyra smiled. "Perhaps Lady Emilee can join my aunt and Lady Bethany can become part of my household?"

"That sounds wonderful," Aurelia agreed. "You may tell Lady Emilee to come to court and I shall welcome her into my household."

After all, it was time for Aurelia to start adding more women into the ranks of her ladies. Only Liane, Keira and Marianne were attending to her at the moment and while that could be excused when she was in the Stepstones, she was now at court and was expected to have a larger household. Five ladies was the minimum she should have, frankly and even with Emilee Strong joining, she’d still have to continue looking.

"I will tell my son Harwin to bring Bethany to your quarters this evening, my princess. And I will send for Emilee at Seagard. With your leave of course."

Aurelia nodded.

"It will be my honor to welcome Lady Emilee, and I have little doubt they will fit in with my other ladies. It’s to my shame that I have not been fulfilling my responsibility to add to my household."

"And on the subject of responsibilities," Viserys said, shifting in his seat, his pain poorly hidden on his face. "It is by tradition that all members of the royal family have guards around them. It is time we choose a sworn sword for you, Aurelia."

"Er," Lord Lyonel Strong said. "Your Grace, if I may… my son Harwin is the new Commander of the Gold Cloaks and served under your brother when he still held command. Might he be given the task of choosing a leal men from among their ranks?"

"That’s the Kingsguard’s duty…" Viserys stated, agitated, but still willing to hear out his trusted advisor.

"Well, Your Grace… the Goldcloaks are guards as well," Otto Hightower intercepted himself into the discussion. "Assigning one of them to the Princess would leave the Kingsguard to guard the more direct royal line. And they were trained by Daemon. Surely he would prefer for one of his men to guard his wife and children, would he not?"

Viserys sighed, and looked at Aurelia. Wide-eyed but weary, Aurelia found she did not have the will to object. Not with so many eyes on her, and not with the insult she’d just been dealt.

"Thank you, Lord Strong," Aurelia murmured, and the matter was settled. 

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When Alicent enters the nursery that day, she freezes at the sight that greets her. In the balcony stands the Essosi woman Aurelia brought into her ladies, with her son in her arms. Aegon was content, babbling nonsense words as he stares at the strange woman holding him.

She feels like she might be sick. 

Keira raises her head and acknowledges her with a small tilt of her head, more mocking than anything else before she continues to look at her son.

She is threatening her son.  

"Your Grace. I came by to pack some of Princess Danae’s belongings, she requested to stay with her cousins tonight. The prince was fussing, so…"

Of course. Prince Daemon believed his family would be better protected outside of the most secure building in the Keep and had the servants prepare one of the unused parts of the keep instead. As if they’d be safer in an abandoned part of the Keep than in the Holdfast. And, now Aurelia was taking Danae with her.

"He calmed down quickly after I took him in my arms, I think he just wanted to be held."

Are you so terrible a mother that your son will calm at the touch of a stranger?

"I will talk to the Princess about arranging a small gathering so he can play with his cousins. The difference in age is small, they should get along splendidly."

Give me a reason and I will see you removed from your child’s life.

She moves closer, joining her hands in front of her, interlocking her fingers in an attempt to avoid peeling away at her fingers.

"Thank you, Lady Keira. I am… most grateful for your care towards my son. I would be delighted to spend more time with my new goodsister," she smiles politely, hoping against hope that she’s hiding the fear inside her.

Keira is a dangerous woman, she knows that much from her father’s rants. A daughter of a Volantene Triarch who had only lost one election over the past twenty years. Though it is not confirmed, her father believes the reason for her delicate and familiar features to be her mother — and if she is indeed Saera Targaryen’s daughter, that can only complicate things more. Viserys is desperate to hold close his remaining family and if he discovers this, he will become Daemon’s creature — her father’s words will be dismissed at once in favor of his cousin’s. 

She observes her for a minute as her son coos, then smirks and looks at her again. After pressing a kiss to her son’s hair, she hands him to her.

"Thank you, Your Grace, I will pass along the message Good day to you."  

Alicent doesn’t miss that despite her words, Keira leaves the nursery empty handed.

Chapter Text

The door opened and Madalyn, her head maid, came into the room with the water bowl, along with three other maids whose names she wasn’t sure of. "Good morning, Your Highness," Madalyn called cheerily, and the other maids echoed the sentiment.

"Good morn, Madalyn. Today I think I would like to wear dark colors. Could you present some options for me?" Madalyn walked towards the wardrobes and pulled out a beautiful black dress lined with rubies in the bust and lace on the sleeves and the skirts. "Here, Your Highness, you've not worn this before."

Aurelia felt the material between her fingers and nodded. 

As she was helped into her dress, she asked Madalyn, "Where is the King?"

"I believe he meant to hear petitions this morn, Your Highness."She nodded and turned to the jewelry boxes to pick some accessories to go with her dress. Picking a simple ruby necklace, Madalyn clasped it around her neck and she chose a pair of matching earrings. As one of the maids followed her instructions and started arranging her hair so it flew down her back without tangles, she thought about how the servants of the Red Keep were some of the best informants on the goings-on of the castle. 

She needed to ensure their loyalty. More than that, she needed to be sure they would not report on her to Otto or any other who would seek to pay them to do so. She called Madalyn over to her and whispered in her hair. "Tell my steward to give you 20 gold dragons." Madalyn nodded and hurried out of the room.

Aurelia turned to the mirror and asked, "Forgive me, but I am not sure of your names." 

"Livia, Your Highness," the one arranging her hair answered softly.

The one making the bed answered. "Ros, Your Highness" and the one sorting through her wardrobe answered, "Jayne, Your Highness." 

Aurelia smiled at them as Madalyn walked back into her rooms. "You have been a great help to me since I came back to court."

Madalyn approached her and swiftly handed a pouch over to Aurelia. She stood up from the stool where she was sitting, admired herself in the mirror and was satisfied with what she saw. She looked the picture of a Targaryen consort.

"Thank you, Livia, this is perfect," she expressed profusely and took out some of the coins in the pouch before pressing them into her hand.

Then, she did the same and handed coins to Jayne, Ros and Madalyn as well.

Madalyn tried protesting. "Your Grace, this is too much, we are only doing our duty." 

"You’re doing more than just your duty," she denied. "Duty is cold and unfeeling. You’ve made me feel welcome back here. Thank you for it."

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Viserys was listening intently in the late morning to petitions of court. He’d been there for hours, but this was a part of his duties as king and he had to attend to them.

Some smallfolk were complaining about a pack of wild hounds terrorizing the lands outside Duskendale, and Lord Blackwood and Lord Bracken had another dispute over where their borders end.

Refreshments were served for the him and his council during an interval, but then they continued again with even more mind-numbing discussions.

"If there are no more petitioners, then we can end this council here," he said, voice echoing around the great hall after a lull in the petitions.

"I have a petition," a woman's voice called from the back of the hall, up on the second floor. At first, he did not recognize who the voice belonged to, but when she walked up to the dais and the throne, he realized who it was.

Princess Aurelia wore an all-black dress, the bodice studded with rubies and other red gemstones. The dress cut across her chest, and her neckline was only adorned by a single ruby pendant, her hair falling across her shoulders, free of any adornments. She calmly walked up to the throne, the footsteps from her boots echoing with every step, until she reached the dais. Slowly, she fell to her knees in a show of obeisance, her skirts pooling around her.

"Your Grace," Aurelia began, her voice carrying across the hushed hall, every courtier paying close attention to the procedures. "I come before you today to humbly request that I be reinstated as Princess Danae's governess."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room.

Before Aurelia could continue, Otto cleared his throat. "Princess, I find it audacious that you dare to make such a request. You abandoned the Princess once before. How can the King trust you won’t do so again?"

"I went home to marry as my brother and father bid me to," Aurelia didn’t flinch. "But now I am a Targaryen. I am married to the King’s brother, I birthed two Targaryen Princesses and a Targaryen prince is nestled in my womb. My loyalty is to the House of the Dragon, Lord Hand, and I care for the little Princess as I do for my own daughters. I only wish to continue caring for her, as her mother would have done."

Aemma. She’d loved Aurelia like a daughter. It is what she would have wanted, for her to take care of Danae. Wasn’t that the reason he’d appointed her as the twins’ governess? Was that not why he’d entrusted his children into her care?

"Princess Aurelia, I understand your dedication to our daughter. She was inconsolable when you were called home. Therefore, I grant your request. You shall resume your role as Princess Danae's governess."

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“By the gods, I think every family’s trying for a place in our households,” Rhaenyra groaned, shaking her head as she looked over the letters asking for places in the royal’s entourages. Now that Aurelia was back at Court, it seemed many of the nobles had taken it as a sign to send in requests for their daughters or sisters to join their households.

Considering her cousin was already on the road and that she had agreed to welcome Lord Lyonel’s daughter, Aurelia said she was only open to one more lady joining her before giving birth. So, for the moment, they were pouring over the letters, trying to decide who would be welcomed into her household and into Aunt Viserra’s. 

"Well, what about this one? Elinda Massey?”

"Oh, her brothers were with us in the Stepstones — but Elinda… they only mentioned one unmarried sister, she can't be older than eleven!”

"She's three and ten according to this," Viserra said, holding up the letter. "But girls have come to court younger before. Surely there’s a reason her father is asking for us to welcome her."

“Yes, well… I don't actually know, but you might have a point there. And I suppose it can’t harm us if we take her in. She’s from the Crownlands so it’s not like it’ll be her last time leaving home, after all,” Aurelia agreed and gave her a sly smile. “I think your household would be the best fit.”

Viserra chuckled, though it was nothing but the truth. She was looking for wives and mothers mostly, not girls and a child wouldn’t do well with Aurelia considering her current state. However, her status as an unmarried princess, on the other hand, labeled her as the best one to take the girl in. And though the requests were being worded for all of their separate households, the three of them knew most only wanted a place in her household. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” she shrugged.

“Alright,” Aurelia clapped her hands. “So, you’ll take Elinda Massey and who else out of this batch are we choosing?”

"Well, I received a letter from my step-grandson,” her aunt’s lips curled at the word. She knew that it irked at her, even years later, how she’d been wed off without a second thought to a man older than her parents. “Desmond says he wants to send some of his relatives south and while we can’t find a place for every Manderly girl, I think we could host one each, couldn’t we?”

"Hmm. Well, it’s always a good idea to have friends in far away places,” Aurelia sighed as she leaned back. “How many of these do we still have to go through?"

"At least a dozen, and you know more will be coming."

Viserra smiled wryly. "Oh, I'm sure. Well, the sooner we get it done..."

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Aurelia walked briskly through the less-used hallways of the Keep, Jamie hot on her heels as they finally, finally reached Balerion’s crypt.

It was a day that Aurelia knew she could never forget: the anniversary of her brother’s death.

Aurelia always loathed the day, yet it was a day she could not escape. Every year it creeped up on her and she remembered when Kreacher returned to Grimmauld, weak and delirious, with Reggie’s locket clutched tightly between his fingers. When her mother started shrieking, she knew.

"Stay outside, Jamie," she murmured as she swept past him into the cavern where the skull of the old dragon was kept.

This was a sacred space, a space only meant for Targaryens and their most trusted to enter. As she approached the dragon, she felt tendrils of magic come closer and she wondered if this was where Visenya had come to practice her magic, if this was where Tyanna had cursed Maegor’s enemies.

She took one of the ceremonial candles and tested its weight before murmuring a soft Incendio, smiling as it lit up before being followed by the others as she sank to her knees.

With the candles all kindled, Aurelia looked inside her for the cord tethering her to the present and clenched it tightly, before letting it snap as she gazed into the flames. 

Her magic had been a restless, chaotic thing during her first childhood. Connected to her emotions and to her visions, it had been hard to gain control of it, to avoid destroying everything in her path. But rituals had helped, communing with the dead and honoring the gods had helped tame it. And she wished the same could happen this time — that if she started practicing all the rituals once again and if she honored her death, she could start using her magic instead of hiding it away, compartmentalizing it and ignoring it for fear of it causing harm.

“Mother Magic,” Aurelia whispered in Old French, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I, Aurelia, Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do ask your forgiveness for being remiss in honoring you. I beg you understand my fears and accept that I am now willing to continue worshipping you."

She raised her hands and released her hair, taking one of the pins and bringing it to her finger so she can make the necessary sacrifice. Holding it over the main candle, she pricks her index and watches as exactly twelve drops of blood land on the flames and smiles as she feels magic fill her.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Caspian Massey has no epithets like his fellow Captain in the Gold Cloaks. But he comes highly recommended by Ser Harwin Breakbones and does look the part of a strong and dashing knight, with his muscled arms and long blonde hair.

"Princess."

"Ser Caspian," Aurelia greets him with a nod. "I did not realize you would be here so quickly."

"Ser Harwin does not waste time, Princess."

His gold cloak is still attached to his shoulder, despite his new station. He goes to remove it but she stops him.

"Princess?"

"My husband trained you," she murmurs. "Wear it as a reminder of it."

He nods before kneeling.

The sword rings in the air as he pulls it from its sheath, holds it flat, and lays it down on the ground. "I, Caspian of Massey’s Hook, swear to defend you to the death or until you release me from my vow. I am yours, my lady," he swore, holding his sword out to her. "Your liege man and I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my love for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new."

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth," she said, her fingers brushing along the crown of his head. "And meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise."

Chapter Text

Aurelia felt her shoulders relaxing as they made their way to Viserys’ solar. With the performers in the Red Keep, her time was rapidly decreasing.

"Princess Aurelia Targaryen of House Martell,” Ser Harrold announced her.

Liane stayed behind just long enough to see Aurelia inside before leaving to her other tasks.

"Aurelia!?" Viserys quickly opened the doors before Ser Harrold had the chance to do so himself.

There was a huge smile on his face and for a moment Aurelia was confused until she realized that it was the first time she sought him out alone — since she sought to spend time with him outside of their scheduled meetings to discuss Danae and small council meetings and court sessions.

Aurelia was being neglectful in getting Viserys onside, on tearing him away from Otto Hightower’s influence and making him more amenable to allowing his brother to stay in court once the matter of the Stepstones was finished.

Forcing a smile on her face, Aurelia allowed herself to be pulled inside.

"I was just about to have a small meal before hearing today’s petitions. Please, join me. It seems we have hardly talked since you came back to King’s Landing."

"Yes… I’ve been busy settling my household back and easing the children into the keep and helping Alicent with the preparations for Aegon’s nameday hunt.”

In all honesty, once Aurelia had made sure that there were no spies in the nursery staff and that the nurses hired had been vetted by Aemma instead of Otto — since he apparently had hired most of Aegon’s household — she had found herself with more time on her hands, hence offering Alicent assistance with the hunt.

“I’ve also been helping Rhaenyra with her household and with some new designs for her dresses.”

“Well, I hope you’ve also been restraining my daughter when it comes to the cost,” Viserys spoke a little indulgently.

“For quite a bit of them, she was inspired by her mother’s designs,” Aurelia tentatively mentioned Aemma, hoping she still had an effect on him.

“Hm, I guess she wishes to feel closer to her mother,” Viserys nodded. “But Rhaenyra has always favored more daring designs and heavier fabrics than Aemma did.”

“As you say, she must want to feel closer to Aemma,” Aurelia allowed. “And that brings me to one of the topics I wished to discuss. What happened with Aemma’s trousseau, all of her dresses and jewelry?”

Viserys swallowed. “The traditional set of the Queen’s jewels went to Alicent. Everything Aemma brought from the Vale, what was personally hers and what were personal gifts is in storage.”

Aurelia nodded. “Have you thought of making a gift of them for Rhaenyra? We could divide it in half so Rhaenyra and Danae both have their mother’s things with them. Part of Rhaenyra’s half could be her gift for her nameday and the rest when she weds.”

“That’s a great idea!” Viserys said with enthusiasm as he chewed a piece of meat. “But for that to come to pass, she needs to marry, something she’s been strongly resisting.”

For his sake, she forced a small laugh out. “I think she’s resisting the idea because she knows everything that it involves.”

“All she has to do is choose a noble man,” Viserys guffawed. “She has every lordling in Westeros ready to propose to her and she’s resisting!”

Aurelia sighed as she reached inside the pockets of her skirt and took out the letters Rhaenyra had given her.

Viserys took the top one and his eyes quickly read the lines and thankfully, he looked almost annoyed.

"No insult to Ser Elmo, and the Tully are, of course, Lords Paramount, but he already has children. While usually that would be no trouble, I would rather my heir have a more ideal match."

Well, at least he wasn’t so bling not to see the problem. 

"This was not about a marriage between Rhaenyra and Ser Elmo… but with Ser Quenton Tully,” Aurelia made sure to compose herself in delivering the words in the most unimpressed tone she could. Ser Elmo was already not the best match, being a widower and from a house in a tremulous position, but he was at least age-appropriate. Ser Quenton was older than Viserys and already had grown two sons.

Seeing him clench his jaw, she motioned to the rest of the letters. 

“He was not the only one,” she sighed. “Rhaenyra is resisting marriage because she believes these are her only options. Unsuitable men. Look through them and you’ll see what’s worrying us.”

Viserys quickly leafed through them, his incredulity and rage increasing with each new name.

"Willem Reyne? I thought the heir was named Reynard.”

"Willem is from a branch line. Reynard married a few moons ago to a daughter of a Lannisport Lannister.”

Aurelia sat back and watched as Viserys took another letter.

"Lord Dondarrion… unless I missed the raven that announced the death of Lord Beric and this is his son, then he is truly putting himself forward as a contender for her hand as a man of one and sixty!"

"Indeed, he is."

"This is simply absurd! What in the seven hells are these men thinking!?"

“Well, Rhaenyra will be relieved.”

"How will this be a relief?" 

She put on a mask of confusion. “Rhaenyra told me the proposals have been sent to her chamber. She feared these were her choices. I knew it wasn’t possible and decided I had to discuss this with you.”

Viserys paled. "My poor daughter! I told her she had to consider marriage, but I clearly did not mean those…" he motioned to the now thoroughly mangled papers.

“Speak to Rhaenyra. If you truly mean for her to choose her husband, give her the tools to do so.”

Viserys grimaced, but nodded. “So, she is contemplating marriage." 

She nodded. “She knows it’s her duty, not only as a princess but also as the heir to the throne.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

After Aurelia’s return to court,  Viserra spent a large portion of her time in the Red Keep just observing her. She wanted to know what change the past few years had brought about — if two years married to her mercurial nephew had dampened her fire or only increased its ferocity.

At least, Aurelia had not forgotten how to behave in court. Soon after her arrival, she had started donning Targaryen black and red and she’d taken Danae under her wing again. Her niece could be found in her new aunt’s chambers of her cousins’ nursery more than in her own set of rooms. To leave no doubt about her fidelity to her nephew and her fitness as a mother and wife, as well as the primary caretaker for little Danae, she never left her rooms without at least one guard and one of her ladies, with Maegelle also accompanying her frequently. Often, she took her daughters into the gardens and after a few weeks back in the Keep, she’d started going into the city alongside Rhaenyra, brushing aside the maesters’ protests because of her pregnancy.

Aurelia knew she was in a court different than the one she had left, knew that her status had irrevocably changed when she married her nephew and adjusted for it. And, Viserra knew the girl — Aurelia was preparing her great-niece for when the time came for her to rule by starting to garner the love of the common people.

Too bad that it would all be for nothing.

Aurelia was intelligent, she’d absorbed knowledge faster than any other child she knew and therefore, Viserra knew she had to know Rhaenyra would not ascend the throne. Not when Viserys had a son named for the Conqueror, not when Alicent was pregnant with another child already. And the love of the commons would not be enough if Rhaenyra did not take her disinheritance gratefully.

Truthfully, Viserra did not understand why Aurelia was trying to shore up Rhaenyra’s position instead of securing hers.

And so, she found herself standing on the balcony that overlooked the gardens where 

Alicent was watching as her son played with his cousins and older sister. Aurelia was leaning against the wall, observing the sight below her when Viserra made her appearance known, "It bothers you, does it not?"

Aurelia angled her body to face her for a few moments before her eyes found her daughters’ again. "What, Princess?"

"Seeing a Hightower in a position that could have been yours."

"Alicent did not ask for this," Aurelia murmured. "Neither of us did. You, of all people, should know as women we get no say in our marriages."

Viserra silently approached her, placing her hands on the stony wall as she managed, "I did not ask for a lesson in politics — I asked whether this bothers you."

She expected some anger on Aurelia's side, she expected Aurelia to snarl — but the girl just smiled in amusement. "If you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you are miserably failing, Princess Viserra."

"Quite the opposite," Viserra hummed, feeling more intrigued by the girl with each passing moment. 

Aurelia held her gaze yet again, sharp amber eyes looking at her harshly. "It is the order of things and if the gods decreed for me to marry a dragon, then I am glad it was Daemon."

"You would prefer a landless second son over a king?"

"I would choose a man at the prime of his life over one who already lost his great love and is losing his will to live," Aurelia murmured in Valyrian. "I know I would have been queen, but what good is being a queen without a crown?"

"Alicent seems content, does she not?"

"If by content you mean she’s suffering because of the children imposed upon her and crumbling under the weight of duties she wasn’t prepared for then, yes, she is content."

"What I don’t understand is why you rejected Viserys when he made his advances — why you didn’t seize the crown with your eager hands. You seem adamant in securing Rhaenyra’s position, her succession — why didn’t you make things easier for her? Otto Hightower will want his grandchildren on the throne, even now he whispers that Aegon should be named heir because he is the firstborn son. When that babe comes of age and my nephew has passed, the men of the Realm will expect him to be heir, not Rhaenyra — because that is the order of things," she explained.

Aurelia traced the wedding band on her hand with her finger. "Rhaenyra has no one to guide her — you should have stepped up, but you haven’t done nearly enough. And if her position is ripped from her, then I won’t let it be because she didn’t even try."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Emilee Strong walked briskly through the corridors of The Red Keep, in awe of the elaborate and intricate design of the palace and amazed at how many courtiers there were in attendance to the royal family. She gripped Harwin’s arm tighter as they got closer to the Princess’ rooms, her nerves flaring up.

The Princess had not been at court long enough for word to travel of her household to Seagard in the time before she left, but she had heard of the households kept by Queen Aemma, Princess Viserra, Queen Alicent and by Princess Rhaenyra. She’d heard of the late queen’s household and how it was filled with educated women who helped run her charities. Of how Queen Alicent’s household was mainly made up of her cousins, pious and gentle young women hailing from the Reach. And of the Princess’ household, where Larys was escorting Bethany, of it being filled with vibrant girls from prominent families. She had nothing to go on for the Princess Aurelia’s household and she had no way of knowing if she was going to fit in with the ladies who were serving her — ladies who had already attended to her as she gave birth once, who had been with her at a war camp.

She was nervous, although still excited, when her father’s raven arrived and told her that she and Bethany could go to court and attend to the Princesses. His letter had stressed how it was a great opportunity for them and their family- and that she should be very grateful to the King, if she was fortunate enough to speak to him during her time at court that she should thank him and be very gracious towards him.

But, she worried about what others would think. No doubt some families would think they were rising too quickly. Her father was the Master of Laws, and Harwin had recently been appointed command of the Gold Cloaks. Larys served as one of the lord confessors and now she and Bethany were going to serve the Princesses. Their house was relatively new and they were being given honors other houses would feel they deserved more. She couldn’t help but worry.

She’d been surprised at being granted the position, in all honestly. Logic would dictate the Princess would like to surround herself with Stormlanders and Dornish ladies, perhaps with some Velaryon women in the mix to please Prince Daemon

Nevertheless, she counted her blessings and hoped that service in the Princess’ household wouldn't be too difficult for her. There has to be some area her ladies are not shining in at the moment and that is where she must make herself indispensable. 

"Wish me luck, Harwin," Emilee whispered, glad to have found her voice again, as faint as it was.

"You won't need it," Harwin replied, smiling down at her and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

And with a sigh, she entered the Princess’ apartments, and like the rest of the Keep, she was awed by its splendor and space. The difference from Seagard and Harrenhal was striking and she thought it’d take weeks for her to get used to it, even if her own chambers were not so lavish.

"You must be Lady Emilee," one of the ladies regarded her, a bit coldly, as soon as she entered.

Emilee sank into a curtsey immediately, not quite sure if she was supposed to do so, but choosing to err on the side of caution. It would not do for her time at court to start with disrespect. "I am her, my lady," she replied, keeping her head downcast until the woman in front of her motioned her to rise.

"I am Lady Liane Dayne; I am Princess Aurelia’s chief lady for the moment. It will be a moment before she is able to receive you. You may not speak unless you are spoken directly to, do you understand?" Liane asked, regarding her with chilly formality.

"Of course, Lady Liane," Emilee replied, bobbing another quick curtsy.

She waited in silence for a few more moments before she was admitted into the Princess’ bedchamber, curtsying after walking inside. The Princess was sitting in a chaise by the window, murmuring something to a blonde toddler nestled against her chest and two identical little girls were playing quietly on the floor. 

"You may rise, Lady Emilee," the Princess spoke.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Daemon leaned over the large map depicting the land he still had to conquer, Corlys, Laenor and most of the Velaryon captains surrounding him on all sides.

Beside him, Daeron Velaryon pointed to a spot on the map before them. His long locks whipped about his face due to the wind and his helmet had long since been discarded from the way the wind was knocking it about.

"Our ships have managed to block some of the outer islands, securing our hold on the central ones. With some time, the Crabfeeder and his men will surely be starved out,” he murmured. His long finger moved down. "With that, it will be much easier for us to sail into the Hook and Nymerion in order to take them."

Daemon nodded. This was the end, he could feel it. The end of years of work, traveling across the islands in his quest to prove himself and to have something to pass on to his children, something to call his own.

They had taken nearly half of the islands from the Triarchy, the most important ones already under their command. Hopefully, with Daeron’s plan, their conquest would soon be complete. Daemon wanted to have this done before the birth of his next child, if possible.

"I hear Vaemond wishes to make peace," Laenor voiced. 

“If it had been up to our father, we would have never come tho the Stepstones at all,” Daemion snorted.

“We can’t start listening to him now that we’re so close to securing the islands,” Daeron agreed.

“And we won’t,” said Corlys harshly. “My brother is many things, a fool among them. He won’t dictate what we do in this campaign.”

"We have gained a foothold in Bright Isle and Tyvaros, my prince,” said another man, who Daemon hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. "It would be best to secure them both before we move forward into the outer islands.”

"We will secure them once we hold them all,” Daemon replied, shaking his head. Sure, it made sense to secure them now, but to do so they’d be losing men and energy. No, it was better to simply focus on the other islands and if any of the Triarchy’s men slithered back, then they’d take care of the problem.

Clunky steps filled up his ears and he turned around, searching for the sound. Daemon found a soldier coming into the tent, with a black tunic and the sigil his wife had chosen. The three headed dragon on top of a flaming sun.

"Message from the Princess, my lord," said the messenger, handing him a sealed letter. Daemon took it and gave the rider a gold coin, before he turned around and opened the message.

To my dear husband,

It is with a hopeful heart that I write to tell you of how we have settled back into court. 

Your little niece, Danae, seems enchanted by her cousins, always wanting to play with them and to be in their company. She has all but moved into their nursery, to the dismay of the Hand! 

Baela and Alyssa are both settling in nicely. As you might imagine, Baela delights in scaring the maids and the old ladies of the court, but they all laugh it off as an energetic babe. They enjoy going to the gardens and exploring as well as playing with their cousin when he can be pried away from the watchful eye of the Hightowers.

And, as for me, I’m doing well. I’m tired, always, but that is what having two young girls and being pregnant does, I suppose. Your brother is planning a hunt for his son’s nameday, but once we return to the Keep, I intend to retire for Dragonstone, so our third child can be born in the home of his ancestors as you insisted. I hope this dreadful war will be over by then, so you might be my side as when our girls joined us.

I'm waiting for you, my darling,

Written by the hand of your most faithful wife, Aurelia.

Chapter Text

Alyce Manderly Darklyn arrives at King’s Landing with her husband in tow a fortnight after their conversation about expanding their households. Viserra welcomes her with an eager smile, glad to have someone she knows joining her at court. 

Her stepdaughter’s husband, Justin, is to become Beesbury’s secretary. She knows that it is likely not a position they’ve hoped for, but Viserra thinks it could actually play well for them. After all, Duskendale is a port town and requires a lord good with numbers. From the few interactions she had with one of her older stepdaughters, knows that any grandson of Mara won’t be a dullard, but it can’t help to have some experience. 

"Thank you for joining me, Alyce," Viserra says once the servants have left them alone in her solar. The table is spread with bowls filled with fruit, a thick pudding imported from the East and some nuts to mix in, as well as fresh bread, cold meats and cheeses for them to eat while they talk.

Alyce takes a sip of her cooled herbal tea before she smiles at Viserra. "It’s an honor to be invited into any royal household, Your Grace, though I admit I will miss the port," she answers prettily, well prepared for court.

"King’s Landing has its charms, too. The gardens here in the Red Keep are quite lovely, as is the godswood, though it’s a more rugged beauty than what you are likely used to, and on sunny days the view of the Bay is breathtaking," she says with a smile. "And the King enjoys feasts, balls, and hunts, so there’s no lack of entertainment at the court."

They spend the afternoon together, barely pausing to sip or take a bite, so consumed they are by the conversation. Alyce tells news about lords and ladies of the Crownlands and the Riverlands – potential betrothals being arranged and babies born in recent years, feuds and quarrels; she also reports scandals and misconducts, whispering the unseemly gossip between hushed giggles and conspiratorial glances.

“Mara mentioned Princess Rhaenyra and Princess Aurelia plan to expand their households," Alyce says once the most pressing gossip is shared. "Have they sent the invitations already?"

Viserra nods. The matter of the younger women’s households has taken a lot of her time lately, as she and Aurelia spent hours every day discussing the best options for Rhaenyra and making plans. After much thought, Viserra has decided her niece needed to model herself after Queen Rhaenys and Queen Alysanne. 

Because of Rhaenys, the court of the Conquerors’ had always been joyful, it had been filled with celebrations and she had given patronage to many merchants and artists. Her mother, on the other hand, had surrounded herself with women from all the kingdoms they ruled over, ensuring they had an impeccable reputation and that she wouldn’t have any scandal tarnishing her name. That’s what Rhaenyra needed — to surround herself with women who would be her armor when Otto Hightower and his sycophants inevitably started trying to besmirch her name. And she needed to be loved, to be admired by the common folk so they would support her when the time came.

“Giselle and Rowena should be sailing already to join my nieces’ households. Aurelia and I have made a list of those we believe Rhaenyra should surround herself with, but we have to be careful when it comes to creating her household and appointing her ladies. Aurelia called for Maegelle, but I’m thinking of asking Desmond if he knows of any Northern-born Septa willing to join Rhaenyra.”

She doesn’t mince her words, knowing that Alyce will not go babbling — the Manderlys will support Rhaenyra, if anything, because Desmond knows Otto would punish him simply because of her affiliation with the family.

Alyce nods, the expression on her face changing from carefree to more serious. "Good," she says, almost harshly. “Forgive my candor, but as a widow deemed old by society, you don’t need the extra protection of a septa. However, Princess Rhaenyra will need it. It’s good Princess Aurelia had the foresight to write to Oldtown for your sister. They will need the honor associated with septa…” she pauses, considering her words. “The things I’ve heard from court are worrying. We wouldn’t want for the princesses’ reputation to be questioned in any way.”

Viserra blinks. "What do people say? And about whom?"

"No names are mentioned, but people talk about maidens visiting men’s bedchambers without a chaperone or a guard, dalliances between young girls and squires or even about bastards being born to unmarried women," Alyce says with a worried shake of her head. A frown appears between her brows as she plucks a grape.

Viserra hides her smile as she bites into a pastry. The accusations are familiar, carefully planted after she learned how it came to be that Viserys chose little Alicent Hightower as his second wife. 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Aurelia bounced Baela in her arms, trying to calm down her cries. She heard the door creak open and winced, preparing for the onslaught of her daughter’s cries once again. Surprisingly, Baela only stared up at her with a gummy smile. 

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured as she leaned her head on her shoulder. "You are going to be the death of me one of this days." 

Turning around, she smiled and contained a squeal as she saw it was her father who had entered. She’d thought there were still a few more days before his retinue would arrive. 

"Papa," she greeted with a smile, gesturing with her head to Baela so he’d understand why she wasn’t rushing at him.

Her father nodded and walked towards her with large strides and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. She easily leaned into his embrace, careful to avoid disturbing her babe.

"Is this Baela or Alyssa?"

"Baela," Aurelia said at once. "Alyssa is in the nursery with Danae. I can take you in a little bit, when I go to lay her down."

As her father nodded, she raised her arms to offer him the baby, but Adrian stepped back, shaking his head. "I don’t want to disturb her," he explained. "I remember how hard it was getting you and Morgan to sleep when you were babes."

Aurelia nodded, understanding. "I ordered for your rooms to be made nearby, if you want to get settled in."

"Thank you," with another kiss to her forehead, her father turned and made to walk out the door.

It was at this moment that Emilee stepped inside, arms full of clean linen. The two bumped on their way and the cloth fell to the floor, as did Emilee, who dipped into a deep curtsy.

"Forgive me, Ser," she said. "I did not see you. I did not mean to bump into you."

"Do not fret, my lady," Adrian replied. He helped her up, hands on her elbows. "It was my fault. Allow me to assist you." He bent down once more and picked up the piles of linen, placing them gently on Emilee’s arms. The girl flushed, beaming happily at him. 

Aurelia watched it and an idea began to form in her mind.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Kneeling in front of the them were the Reachmen, Lords from Houses Hightower, Redwyne, Fossoway, Rowan and Tarly were all there, with more to join them in the coming days. 

At the front of the kneeling crowd were Edrick and the Fossoways (no doubt to the displeasure of the Hightowers), given their proximity to Evergreen Cove and the fact that they had traveled together. 

"You may rise," Alicent said, and all the Reachmen stood up, patting at their expensive clothes, to remove the mud and dust on them. "I pray you all are well after such a long journey. We have arranged for a small welcome lucheon for you, before you make yourselves at home in the keep."

"Your Grace, we would have preferred to have a welcome feast tonight," a woman in Redwyne colors complained.

"There is to be a welcome feast later this evening, my lady, do not fret. We only wanted to give you a warm welcome you to the Red Keep," Aurelia responded bluntly.

"Understood, Your Grace." the woman said, chastised.

As the crowd dispersed into their own groups, most following Alicent to the gardens, Edrick approached Aurelia.

"Aurelia? Might we walk?" asked Lord Edrick, whilst taking two glasses of wine from a serving lady.

"Absolutely." Aurelia replied, smiling at her friend as she placed a hand on her back to help relieve the ache from standing for so long.

Edrick handed her a glass of the wine. Aurelia took a small sip of it, tasting it carefully. It was extremely sweet, but also pleasant on the tongue.

"Do you like the wine? It’s from one our first harvests near the Cove. We sweetened it with syrup maid from berries native to the Reach."

"It’s a good wine," she complimented. "How many vintages do you have already?"

"Five, I believe. I hope one day our wines can compete at least with the ones from the Rock."

"Hopefully in a few years," she smiled up at him as they entered the Refuge.

"I hope Daemon will agree to paying me a visit once his war is over and your babe is here," Edrick laughed.

"I don’t see why he wouldn’t agree," she chuckled. "You’re his cousin, after all. And truly, from everything you said before leaving court, I can’t wait to see the Cove."

"And, now that you mentioned him and our relation, how has my cousin been treating you? Has he been a good husband, Aurelia?"

She laughed. "He has. As hard as it may be to believe, he has treated me well. He was of great help during both my pregnancies and when the girls were newborns and we were still at the Stepstones. He’s the one who insisted on me coming back, actually. He said he wouldn’t risk me and our child again."

"I’m glad to hear that," Edrick nodded. "And have you thought on names for the babe?"

"Daemon and I thought on Aenar and Daenys or perhaps Aerion and Valaena. I guess I will decide once the babe is here and I’m looking at them in my arms. And you? When will you marry and give me nieces and nephews to spoil?"

"Well, things with Janna did not go to plan," Edrick sighed and she remembered him going on long rants on his letters about the Fossoway woman he’d become enamored with. "Mayhaps during this visit I’ll find a woman I can see myself marrying."

"I only hope for you to find someone you can be happy with."

Edrick looked at her, a question about to be raised, but she spoke again, this time in Valyrian before he could ask. "I know how miserable arranged marriages can be. If there is at least friendship first, then I believe the foundation for that marriage is stronger."

"And what makes you worry?" He asked as they turned and she pushed the door to the nursery slightly, trying to see if the girls were awake or in their naps.

"They’re taking their naps, but they should wake soon, so we can stay in the outer chambers while we wait so you can meet them," she informed him and the followed her inside, seating down and accepting the offered cup of wine. "And, to answer your question… Seeing Alicent’s quiet resignation, how ladies in the court deride their husbands. Seeing my girls and knowing that there are others like them, growing up with parents who can barely stand one another."

Edrick sighed. "That would have likely been my fate if my father had lived longer, in truth."

"So you understand what I mean," Aurelia surmised.

"And how is my younger cousin? Your new niece," he specified, knowing Laenor and Laena could also be counted among his cousins.

"She abhors the idea of marriage, Edrick. And her father’s patience will not be endless. I fear what she’ll do if she’s forced into marrying someone not of her choosing."

Chapter Text

The Red Keep, King’s Landing

Usually, Aurelia loves to soak in until the water cools down and her skin gets so wrinkled it resembles a raisin. Today, however, she can’t afford the pleasure of a long, relaxing bath. Instead, she washes quickly, careful to not get her hair wet. She hates rushing through her routine and is already in a bad mood when her maids dry her and massage scented oils into her skin.

“What do you want to do with your hair, Princess?” Madalyn asks Aurelia when she finishes brushing the knots in her ebony hair.

Dressed in her robe, Aurelia sits at her vanity table, staring at her reflection in the looking glass. On the one hand, she doesn’t want to do anything too extravagant — she wants to be comfortable and doesn’t want others to think she’s making a statement of support for the Hightowers if she dresses too lavishly. But, she knows the Hightowers and their supporters will make sure to look their best, in anticipation of Aegon being named heir. She has to look better than them. 

She sweeps her eyes over the surface of the vanity table, where Emilee and Liane have prepared a selection of jewelry. Gold necklaces and rings encrusted with diamonds and rubies stare back at her. Her gaze falls to a thin gold chain with the Martell coat of arms engraved in a pendant. 

“Something simple,” she says, with eyes fixed on the necklace. “I want to wear this.”

Once her hair is done, falling in waves across her back and pulled away from her face, Marianne clasps the necklace around her neck before stepping away and she hurries to get dressed.

As she steps from behind the screen, Madelyn and the other maids gasp at the sight of her. Aurelia gives a little twirl, loving the way the fabric of the skirt moves and the colors blend together.

“You will outshine everyone today, Princess.”

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

"Aurelia? Leah?" called out a voice from the grave. "Leah? Are you in there?"

Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be…

She sprinted over and flung open the door, her breath hitching as she stared into the familiar blue eyes. Nineteen-year-old Johanna Swann stood before her, flesh and bone. Dressed in a gown made of luxurious silks and trimmed with white lace, Johanna was exactly as Aurelia remembered. Only a couple of inches taller than Aurelia was, her ivory-colored skin was flawless, contrasting perfectly with the wave of ebony hair that cascaded down her back.

"Johanna…" Aurelia breathed.

Here she was, in the flesh, alive. Images of the fate Johanna met in her dreams flashed through her eyes, captured by pirates on Shipbreaker Bay, forced to prostitute herself on Essos. After the second of her dreams, after recognizing it for what it was — a vision, a premonition, a warning of what was to come — she’d hastily scribbled a note to Stonehelm, inviting her cousin to court to become her lady. As time passed and Johanna failed to arrive, she’d feared she’d been too late, that she’d already been taken.

Before she could stop herself, Aurelia threw her arms around her cousin, holding her close. The tears came unbidden and flowed down her cheeks as she gripped Johanna tightly, kissing her cheek repeatedly.

Johanna stiffened, surprised by her cousin's sudden, unprompted, lavish affection display. However, she didn’t pull away. Instead, Johanna patted Aurelia’s back.

"Are you all right, Leah?" Johanna asked.

Aurelia sniffed, rubbing her eyes. "I…. I am sorry," she stammered. "I just… Gods, it’s so good to see you again."

Johanna arched an eyebrow. "If I had known you’d be so happy to receive me, I’d have told the coaches to hurry on the journey." She put a hand on Aurelia’s forehead. "Are you ill? Do we need to summon a maester?"

Aurelia shook her head. "No, no… I’m perfectly fine. What do you say? Will you join me for little Aegon’s nameday hunt?"

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After months of endless preparations, the beginning of Aegon’s nameday celebrations were in full swing. Lords and ladies had descended upon the Red Keep and were enjoying royal hospitality as they drank and broke their fast before heading to the Kingswood.

And no one was happier than the King. For, although Viserys tried to rotate his time to spend more time with his ever-growing family as fairly as he could, he could not help but be a bit more involved with his second daughter and hie nieces. So Viserys was more than happy to leave politics behind him and spend time with his family and bond with his son in the kingswood.

"He has your hair, Your Grace," a courtier mentioned, pointing to Aegon who was held by his mother, babbling whilst holding onto one of his toys.

"He does have my hair," Viserys chuckled.

"He has your eyes, Your Grace."

"Yes, he does. And he has my nose too, doesn't he?"

Alicent, heavily pregnant with her second child, tried not to cringe away from the attention everyone was paying her and Aegon. For her, this was duty. But she wished to be back in her chambers and for Aegon to be in his nursery, tended to by his nurses.

"Your Grace," one of the stewards arrived. “Princess Aurelia and her household have arrived."

Viserys turned happily to see his goodsister enter. Alicent, however, released a sigh when the attention was shifted away from her and Aegon. The Queen maintained an outward image of an ideal consort, but deep down she wished to still be just the Lady Alicent.

"Good morning, Your Grace," Aurelia gracefully curtsied. In honor of her natal and marital houses, she wore a red dress, with gold detailing. With a ‘V’ neckline, the bodice was decorated with a delicate, chiffon appliqué. The dress was cinched at the waistline, hugging the swell of Aurelia’s six-month pregnancy before flowing out into a full skirt. The inner layer of the skirt consisted of a red garment with golden lace detailings, while the outer skirt was made of crimson velvet. 

"Come on, Aurelia. You are family now. No need to be formal with me today." Viserys approached and his smile beamed when he saw Danae and his nieces. The older princess had fallen asleep after playing with her cousins the night before and so, her nurses had readied her with the twins instead of at the nursery she shared with Aegon. “Where is she? Where is my little girl?” he cooed, poking his Danae’s button nose. "By the gods, she's getting so big. Four years old already. You look so much like your mother when she was your age."

“Thank you, Kepa,” the girl murmured and ladies sighed at how adorable and well-behaved the little princess was.

Emilee and Johanna approached with Alyssa and Baela in their arms.

“Your grace, may I introduce my cousin who just arrived to enter my household — Lady Johanna Swann.”

“Your Grace,” Johanna bobbed her head in greeting.

“Alyssa, Baela, say hello to your uncle.”

Alyssa babbled happily, stretching her tiny hands out to grasp Viserys's finger and long hair from Johanna’s arms. The king laughed in delight.

Nearby, the Hightower brothers overlooked the situation in private. Although they were pleased to see one of their ones tied to the Iron Throne in blood, things hadn’t been developing as they wished.

“Two years old and our boy already has a kingly presence,” Hobert motioned at Aegon, seeing as he toddled over to his younger cousins. “And, perhaps, the charm a king needs as well.”

Otto nodded. "He may yet, brother, but this morning he insisted on eating porridge with his hands.”

“He will grow, brother,” Hobert laughed. “But, this is quite a party that has been assembled in his honor. Well surely by the end of this hunt, we shall have more to celebrate."

"And what is that, pray tell?”

“It is Aegon's second nameday. His infancy will be behind them. It only remains for Viserys to name him heir to the throne.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Otto grimaced. 

“He’s the King's firstborn son,” Hobert pointed out.

“I don’t believe His Grace sees the matter so clearly.”

Hobert sighed, not being able to see into Viserys’ mind as well as his brother. "Then it lies with you to keep our interests secure... Lord Hand."

While Viserys was playing with the children, he was interrupted by the arrival of one of his councilors, Ser Tyland Lannister, the new Master of Ships. "Your Grace," Tyland approached. "I bring urgent news from the Stepstones."

"Not today, Tyland," Viserys dismissed, not seeing the quirk of Aurelia’s brow, nor how her hold on her goblet tightened.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but the matter of the Stepstones is urgent.”

“It’s been going on for three years,” Viserys waved him off. “It can wait three more days.”

As Viserys returned to entertaining himself with the children, Aurelia stood up.

Under the guise of helping herself to a strawberry tart and another goblet of wine, she made her way over to Tyland.

“Ser,” she greeted, waving off his bow. “I would like to hear the news from the Stepstones. If the matter is truly dire, I shall make the King see sense.”

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The further away from King's Landing they travelled, the more Aurelia Martell felt life being pumped back into her veins. 

The stifling smell of excrements, sweat and something burning were soon replaced with the smell of fresh air, green trees, blooming flowers and damp grass. Instead of seeing crowded streets and low buildings through the minuscule openings that the carriage offered, Aurelia could now no longer count the amount of trees they were passing given how numerous and close together they were. 

Despite the palpable tensions in the carriage between Viserys, Alicent and Rhaenyra, Aurelia, just like the young children, was content in ignoring these tensions to instead observe the passing trees or watch out for the sound of quacking ducks as they neared the Kingswood. She pointed out the birds to Danae, who was snuggled against her chest.

"Well isn't this splendid!" Viserys tried to obliviously lighten the damp mood. "The whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood!" 

Rhaenyra offered her father's attempt at peace nothing but a fixed smile that spoke of her wish to be anywhere but in this carriage with her father, his second wife and new half brother. Truly, Aurelia and her children’s presence was the only thing stopping her from drawing the carriage to a halt and riding a horse to the camp. Baela, at least, was keeping her distracted as she played with her jewelry and her hair from her spot on her lap.

"I think it is a wonderful idea, my King,” Aurelia decided to answer for both girls who had done nothing but shoot the King false smiles that were either painfully forced or painfully strained.

The King smiled at his brother's wife. "Thank you, Aurelia." 

Rhaenyra shot her a grateful smile for taking the King's attention off of her for even a split second. When the carriage hit an uneven crevice in their path, the whole carriage lurched to the sight, causing all of them to reach for the walls to steady themselves, Aurelia having to hold onto Danae with one hand and to the seat with the other to avoid falling down.

"Should either of you be traveling in such conditions?" Rhaenyra asked sharply, after noticing how both women adjusted themselves. 

“I’m not so far along for it to be dangerous,” Aurelia shrugged. “I’m merely six moons along, after all. My midwives saw no problem with it.”

Alicent smiled strangely. "The maesters said that being out in nature would do me well." She smiled again in a way that made Aurelia realize perhaps the joys of pregnancy were not joys that Alicent had had access to yet.

"Well, you will be with your own child sooner than late," Viserys said to Rhaenyra with a smile as he finished having Aegon drink water from his cup. "And make me a proud grandsire." 

Whatever effects King Viserys' words had on the Princess, they were reflected in the insolent frown of her brows and very slight dry smile on her face. 

“It’s not so hard,” Alicent spoke up with an air of awkward friendliness, rubbing her swollen stomach, like she didn’t know. Like she hadn’t been there, watching with Rhaenyra as her mother lost pregnancy after pregnancy, and suffered for each dead babe. Like she didn’t owe her position to the butchering of a Queen for a sickly boy who would live mere weeks in agony as he struggled for each weak little breath.

“I see,” Rhaenyra hisses, chest full of dragon fire, and eyes full of scorn. “Thank you, Queen Consort, for I must have missed you becoming the expert on Targaryen pregnancies, my congratulations.”

“Rhaenyra,” Aurelia scolds sharply. “Don’t be so difficult, Alicent was only trying to be kind. Besides, this is meant to be a happy day! Your brother is past his infancy, that’s something to celebrate.”

Rhaenyra looked away, refusing the acknowledge her friend's answer. 

Alicent looked at Rhaenyra quizzically before looking back at the King who had already been looking for her gaze. 

She gave him a slight, almost invisible nod of encouragement before he spoke up again. "You should ride out with me today." Rhaenyra looked bored at his request. "Join in on the chase." 

"I'd rather not." She answered dully. "The boars squeal like children when they are being slaughtered. I find it discomforting."  

The King smiled in an amused, yet slightly exasperated fashion. "It is a hunt, Rhaenyra. How would you like to be a part of it?"

The seventeen year old girl rolled her eyes at him. "I don’t understand why I have to. I’m already going, against my will, is that not enough?"

"You are the Princess," Viserys replied calmly, but sternly. "You have duties to fulfill."

"As I am ceaselessly reminded," Rhaenyra muttered quietly.

"Pardon?"

"As I am ceaselessly reminded!" Rhaenyra spoke loudly as she glared at her father.

Throughout the rest of the carriage journey, the King and his daughter continued to shoot tense questions and answers back and forth while Aurelia decided to fix her eyes on the passing trees and continued to point out the birds and different animals to Danae.

If she was being honest with herself, Aurelia was only looking forward to being able to spend these two days in nature — away from the stink of King’s Landing and hopefully, finding some plants and herbs and a connection to her magic once again.

They were welcomed to their camp and hunting sight under scattered applause and cheers for the young Prince Aegon. A sight that had Rhaenyra looking down at her feet bitterly. As Aurelia got up to peer at the campsite through the openings on Rhaenyra's side, she gave a comforting, yet encouraging squeeze to her friend’s shoulder. 

The applause only got louder as the carriage door opened and the King and Queen descended from the wheelhouse. All the lords of the realm and those present bent the knee as their King's feet reached the ground. Right after the King and Queen was the wet nurse carrying the little prince, and right behind her was Aurelia, who was glad that it was Aegon's day, which meant that no one even raised their eyes to look at her. No one, bar Ser Edrick Daerys, whose eyes were on her as soon as he caught sight of her voluminous, wavy, dark hair.

Though somehow, when the nursemaid stopped halfway down the small set of wooden stairs in front of the carriage to hand over Aegon to Alicent, Aurelia's foot caught on the hem of her dress and she slipped on the fabric, any attempt at steadying herself failing as she felt herself tip to the side to inevitably fall from the stairs. 

Though she had barely began her fall when she felt a strong hand clasp her waist firmly, steadying her, as another supported her forearm as she re-adjusted herself. 

"Thank you, Edrick,” Aurelia spoke, sincere and slightly winded from the scare of almost injuring herself in a fall that not only would’ve been embarrassing, but could’ve resulted in her unborn babe being injured.

His hand did not leave her waist or her forearm until she had safely made it down the stairs, three little girls trailing behind and running over to the group of ladies they were accustomed to spoiling them. "I would not be a very good knight if I had allowed you to fall,” he quipped. His blue eyes peered into hers worriedly. "Are you hurt in any way?" 

It seemed the Gods above had blessed them with luck, as no one had even noticed the exchange, all too busy fawning over the new silver haired prince. 

"Hail, Hail, Aegon the Conqueror-Babe! Second of his name!" Proclaimed Hobert Hightower, brother of Otto Hightower as Alicent passed her first child over to his father through hails and cheers from the lords in attendance.

Chapter Text

The Kingswood, the Crownlands

Rhaenyra stepped out of the carriage after seeing the twins and Danae safely on the ground, just in time to hear Lord Horbert Hightower yell out: "Hail, hail Aegon, the Conqueror-Babe, Second of His Name!" 

Rolling her eyes, she took Edrick’s outstretched arm with Aurelia holding her other one. She purposely ignored the Hightower fanatics acting as if the two-year-old babe was some kind of god. 

Only when she heard the chuckle of Aunt Viserra did her steps falter and she looked back as the crowd went silent. "I’m sorry Lord Horbert," she said between her laughs as she came to stand near the young royals. "I swear you just declared this babe the second of his name? Which causes me quite to confusion as our King stands right there, whole and healthy, as does his heir."

Hobert looked toward his niece and brother, all of them shifting uneasily. Otto quickly took control, stepping forward. "I believe all my brother meant was Aegon is the second since the Conqueror," he said, seemingly quite confident in his answer.

"But what about Aegon the Uncrowned, wasn’t he the second?" Johanna Swann wondered out loud for all to hear as she approached with Danae holding her hand, the little girl awed by everything and everyone around her in her first time outside the court. 

"And wasn’t Jaehaerys & Alysanne’s first son the third boy named Aegon?" Bethany Strong asked as she approached with her oldest brother and sister, Aurelia’s father walking beside the widowed Strong daughter. 

"And your own late brother, Uncle, he was named for the Conqueror as well, wasn’t he? Making him the fourth?" Edrick finished, eyes wide as he stared at the King. 

"Yes, I do believe so," Rhaenyra answered at once. "And, of course, if we were to count the Aegons since the Doom, it would be a much longer list, wouldn't it?"

No one moved, no one breathed, all waiting for the King’s response. "Y-yes well, I-I’m sure they simply misspoke," her father said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "We all know we Targaryens tend to overuse the name now don’t we?" It was said with a chuckle that was copied by the onlookers. 

"Now let’s all enjoy the hunt! Come, my dear, I shall accompany you to the tent." Her father then led her away, leaving his wife, son and Hand behind. 

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"I saw you speaking to Emilee," Aurelia said as she walked up to Adrian. "Would you wish to marry her?"

Adrian looked at his daughter. "If I say yes, are you going to tell me that I should court the Princess instead?" 

Aurelia smiled. "No, not at all," she leaned in closer. "I would rather have a stepmother who is older than me. And Emilee is a good woman. I can see us becoming closer. Just, give her a proper courtship. She’s the widow of a prominent lord and the daughter of a member of the Small Council. She deserves the very best."

Adrian stepped back. "You would support me? You would not be resentful if I remarried?"

"Of course I would support you," his daughter said softly. "You’ve spent more than enough time alone, Papa. I would have no complaints if you were to remarry."

"Thank you."

Aurelia smiled and walked away. Adrian's eyes turned towards his daughter’s tent but Emilee was nowhere to be seen. 

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Essos

Laenor had been nervous about the first leg of their journey over the continent, but his fears had proved to be unfounded so far. 

They had to go from the Stepstones into the sky above the Disputed Lands, flying high so the pirate ships and the Triarchy would not realize they were leaving their own army without the defense of dragons. The result was having to press himself against Seasmoke’s back as they flew where the air was thin, in order to avoid being seen and so he wouldn’t fall due to the lack of air.

After a few hours of flight, he’d finally heard Daemon yell that they could start descending and he’d breathed out in relief, glad to have enough air again and to see the land below him. To his relief, the dragonroads of Essos were easy to follow and Caraxes and Daemon were well used to traveling them.

The road itself is straight in a way that is only really appreciable from the air — Seasmoke only has to course correct very slightly at times due to the wind. Other than that they follow the black line over first plains and then hills. 

There are no rivers yet, though Essos has so many. They must be flying over the Disputed Lands still. The sparse vegetation remains constant, not changing, except for some areas that are more barren or greener. They turn with the road, heading southeast now.

They are making good time. Better than Laenor thought they would. But the dragonroad becomes more difficult to follow as they finally reach the Rhoyne. 

He knows from his lessons that rivers change with time. His mother had spoken at length of the dangers of using rivers for navigation - they twisted and turned, bending to and fro. And over time, the very course of the river changed. Old maps were not nearly as reliable as one might hope. It was best to use the dragonroads, straight as the day they were made, or the stars.

They decide to camp down for the night, each one taking refuge under their dragon’s wing and eating from the rations in their saddlebags before taking off again in the morning, deciding to follow the river since it should take them to the cities once again.

Lys almost sneaks up on them - it’s larger than it appears at first, and Laenor can almost hear the bells as they turn over the city, heading southeast with the dragonroad. Heading on to Volantis. 

The plains east of Volantis were different from the Lysene hills - the color was different, and more rivers crisscrossed the landscape. The bridges that were parts of the dragonroads were perhaps the most impressive part of them, though Laenor would put how straight they seemed as a very close second. It was something that could only be appreciated from the air. 

They see the famous Black Walls before the city proper comes into view. They’re vast, huge in the same way the Hills of Norvos are, and so dark in a way Laenor is surprised. 

He banks and follows Daemon, Seasmoke giving Caraxes a wide berth as they start descending and slowing down.

He lands after Daemon and watches as the dragons fly off, no doubt in search of prey. Belatedly, he wonders what type of welcome they might receive.

Aunt Saera’s Manse is located on one of the highest part behind the Black Walls. From the elevated vantage point, Laenor beheld the awe-inspiring sight of Volantis sprawled beneath him. Dominating the skyline was the Temple of the Lord of Light, a structure made of fused red stone that almost mirrored the architecture of Dragonstone, with tall, narrow spires reaching towards the heavens.

A short distance away, the Palace of the Triarchs commanded attention. This palace was the seat of governance for Volantis, housing the three elected Triarchs who oversaw the city's affairs. Crafted from a blend of ancient Valyrian fused stone and newer black brick, the palace exuded a timeless elegance. Intricate carvings and reliefs depicting historical events and mythical creatures adorned its façade, blending the legacy of Valyrian craftsmanship with the evolving architectural styles of Volantis. He knows that a newer and bigger building had been built in the Western part of Volantis that serves as center of authority now when they started allowing the merchants to be part of the City's ruling.

While called a castle by the servants and probably the lady who owned it, for Laenor it looked more like a manse. It actually reminded him of the manse his father had in King’s Landing. Spacious, certainly, but even Maegor’s Holdfast was bigger. Still there were lavish decoration and open spaces that the Red Keep lacked.

Finally, a welcoming party came out but Daemon did not approach and neither did Laenor.

"Prince Daemon, it is an honor to receive you inside these walls."

Laenor almost blinked at the use of Valyrian, although it was a version that sounded a little different from what he was used to. Slightly different words and with a different pronunciation and in a different order as well.

Daemon didn’t bother to hide his disdain, then again, he seldom did. "This is Ser Laenor Velaryon. We are looking for Dārilaros Saera Targaryen."

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The Kingswood

Knowing she’d be scolded by Aurelia and her father if she didn't take part in at least some aspects of the hunt, Rhaenyra allowed Bethany to lead her to a tent where a group of ladies sat with Alicent and Aurelia, gossiping.

The two girls knew what Aurelia was doing. The women there all had highborn husbands, many of them lords or heirs. Each of them knew secrets that many others didn't. She was collecting secrets like it was a currency in order to strengthen her own position at court.

"Ships from the Stormlands have been seized. I heard an Estermont girl was on one of them, traveling to the capital in search of a husband," Ceira Lannister spoke up, causing Alicent to turn to her in concern.

"What will happen to the Lady?" Alicent asked worriedly.

"She’ll likely be sold into slavery in the Free Cities," Aurelia grimaced, glad she’d been able to spare Johanna of her fate, but sad another woman would take her place.

Rhaenyra watched as Larys Strong approached the group of women as she helped herself to a lemon cake, passing a strawberry tart to Bethany.

"I fear the gods did not make me for hunting," he informed the women and Bethany stared down at her brother’s clubfoot. "Might I sit with you, my ladies?"

Aurelia knew what he was doing. Unlike his brother, he couldn’t gain recognition through the training yard and the  City Watch. So he did it through his wits, allowing everyone else to think him lesser.

"But of course. Please join us," Alicent invited him, gesturing to the open seat. She looked around, smiling at the ladies. "Larys Strong, the youngest son of our Master of Law, Lord Lyonel."

"No King has ever been able to tame the Stepstones for long," a Fossoway spoke up calmly, glancing around the tent. "It's an inhospitable place suited only for savages. But it is what stands between Essos and Westeros."

"Perhaps the Princesses…can give us some insight," Lady Redwyne spoke up and glanced between Aurelia and Rhaenyra, who, alongside Bethany had approached them slightly.

"Oh, I don't know how I would. I've never been to the Stepstones," Rhaenyra smiled uneasily.

"I don’t know how things have progressed since I returned to court."

"Oh, but your husband and uncle is the great mind behind the war, is he not?" Lady Ceira asked and Aurelia glared at her, knowing it was meant as an insult.

"As I said before, I don’t know," Rhaenyra answered, forcing a smile. "I haven't spoken to Daemon in years."

"Since you supplanted Daemon as heir," Lady Ceira scoffed into her goblet, causing Aurelia to speak up again to defend Rhaenyra.

"My husband made his choices. The Princess is more suited to the role of Princess of Dragonstone."

"The Princess was obviously more suited to the role," Alicent jumped into the conversation. "Or do you think the King was wrong in his decision?"

"Oh, of course not!" Lady Ceira quickly answered, knowing if she said otherwise it was treason.

"Prince Daemon and Lord Corlys have made a mess of things and the King must put an end to it," Lady Redwyne spoke up again in an annoyed tone. "Send fleets and men and clear out the Triarchy for good."

"But the crown is not at war," Rhaenyra replied, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"The crown...is at war, Princess. Though your father refuses to admit, we've been dragged into it by your uncle and the Sea Snake," Lady Redwyne explained as if Rhaenyra were a simpleton.

"You do realize, my lady, as you speak badly about them, you speak of my husband?" Aurelia argued, shooting the woman a glare. "And that your plan to send a fleet of ships and men would likely men that the Redwyne and the Lannister ships would be sent. After all, they are the largest fleets after the Velaryons."

Lady Redwyne's eyes widened in alarm. She turned to Aurelia immediately, looking uneasy. "Oh, I meant no—"

"How have you served the realm of late, Lady Redwyne, by eating cake?" Rhaenyra suddenly asked, looking bored.

Lady Redwyne shifted uneasily in her seat, staring up at the princess. 

Aurelia couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. She watched the dog that sat in Lady Redwyne's lap lean forward, eating the cake that was on the women's plate.

She smiled in amusement, noticing how no one spoke a word. She turned to Rhaenyra, giving the girl a proud look before the latter stormed off with Bethany following close behind, the girl stifling a laugh.

"Well, this conversation has taken a turn. I believe I must take my leave," Aurelia spoke up and each lady awkwardly nodded.

Chapter Text

Later that night, Aurelia corners her. Most people had already retired to their tents, and the moon was high in the sky, pale beams shining down on them. Guards milled about but none of them paid much attention to the two princesses, beyond scanning the woods for any danger to the two. Rhaenyra was sitting on a small wooden bench, a blanket draped over her legs and a carved dragon in her hands that she's half paying attention to.

Aurelia appears and sits on the bench next to her, a blanket draped around her own shoulders and a goblet of mulled wine in her hands.

"Aurelia," she greets. 

Aurelia cocks her head in greeting, passing a goblet to Rhaenyra.

"Does it hurt?" 

Aurelia cocks an eyebrow at her, amusement dancing across her features. "Does what hurt? Being pregnant?" 

Rhaenyra nods, embarrassment burning in her cheeks. Aurelia gives a slight laugh, rubbing the swell of her stomach with a soft smile on her face. Then she goes serious.

"Yes," she murmurs. "It does. Not as much as childbirth, but it does hurt." 

Anxiety builds inside of Rhaenyra, it's like an hourglass inside of her counting down the seconds until she's shackled into marriage and staring death, the birthing bed, right in the face.

"Why?" She croaks out, her voice strangled and taut. "Why do you do it?"

Aurelia gives her a pitying look, her hand coming to grasp Rhaenyra's, rubbing soothing circles over her skin. "Why do I do it? Or why do women in general do it?"

"Either. It doesn't matter."

Aurelia sits quietly, contemplative for a moment. Rhaenyra's anxiety builds.

"I guess many do it for duty, because they have no choice at the end of the day," Aurelia answers. "Daemon and I, we didn’t plan it really. Not the twins and not this one, but I love my girls and I already love this one, so I guess in part it’s also because of love."

"Why though?" Rhaenyra almost sobs, fear filling her as she remembers her mother and her constant pregnancies, how she spent more time pregnant than not — all in pursuit of a son to be her father’s heir. Why? Why do women do it? Put themselves through pain and suffering and the chance of death all for a screaming, wailing creature? 

"Because you want to," Aurelia breaths softly, discarding her goblet on the bench. "Because even though they make you suffer, even though they put you through the worst pain imaginable, you love them." 

"You love them." Rhaenyra echoes.

Aurelia nods, pulling her into a hug. "Yes. Because you love them"

Rhaenyra wraps her own arms around Aurelia's shoulders, burying her face into her neck and sobs. Cries like she hasn't since her mother's death. Lets out all the pain and suffering and terror. Aurelia rubs gentle, slow circles over her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

She's not sure how long she cries, but when she's done, Rhaenyra slumps against Aurelia exhausted. Aurelia holds her gently until Rhaenyra roused herself enough and pulled back.

"I'm scared," she admits quietly.

Aurelia places a hand on Rhaenyra's cheek and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, the gesture almost motherly.

"It's okay Rhaenyra, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to promise you that childbirth won't hurt or that it won't kill you. But it doesn’t have to be a death sentence. I want you to know that what happened to your mother isn't the norm."

Rhaenyra nods, a shaky breath leaving her throat. 

"Will you be okay?" 

Aurelia gives her a smile, love in her eyes, letting Rhaenyra rest against her shoulder.

"I hope so."

They sit curled against each other for a while, gazing at the stars in the sky. Hoots of owls fill the air and both of them pull their blankets tighter around them the chilly air nipping at their skin. 

"Rhaenyra," Aurelia says suddenly. Rhaenyra turns to face her, the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Promise me you'll try and play the game better. "

Rhaenyra gazes at her confused.  "What do you mean?"

Aurelia grips her hands tightly, pulling her closer.

"Play the game better." Aurelia grip on her hands is painful now, nails digging into soft flesh. "You will die." Aurelia murmurs, eyes roving over her face.

Panicked, Rhaenyra tries to pull her hands out of Aurelia's grasp, tries to stand up but Aurelia won't let her. A few minutes later, her friend’s eyes clear and she takes in a breath.

"You wish to be queen don’t you?"

Rhaenyra nods, confused. Where was Aurelia coming from? What had happened? Why the sudden switch in her demeanor?

"Let me help you." Aurelia tells her, a look of resignation on her face. With this new angle, with the light from the great bonfire lighting her up, she can see Aurelia more clearly. Her cheekbones are prominent, her skin’s paler and there are shadows under her eyes. 

"How?" Rhaenyra responds slightly suspicious of Aurelia's motives. Why would Aurelia want to help her? True, she’d been by her side since her return to court, but wouldn’t she benefit if her position remained so insecure? Wouldn’t her children benefit?

"You need to make the people love you," she says firmly. "They need to love you so much, that the thought of making your brother king doesn't even cross their minds."

"Truly?"

Aurelia nods vigorously, trapping her bottom lip in between her teeth, hand pressed firmly on her swollen belly.

"Take up some of Queen Alysanne’s projects," Aurelia says slowly. "Some were forgotten when she died, your mother couldn’t take them up, I think. Princess Viserra took some up, but not all. Take up the patronage of at least one orphanage and one healing house. Build up from there." 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Taking a peek over her shoulder, Bethany caught a glimpse of Aurelia holding a babbling Prince Aegon in her arms while a hawk-eyed Otto Hightower watched over them and a wistful Queen Alicent stared after them, longing in her eyes, her son apparently forgotten in the other Targaryen bride’s arms. 

"She seems happy," Bethany murmured sarcastically under her breath, resulting in an unladylike snort from Rhaenyra, who scowled. 

Success. Bethany had quickly figured out a way to get the Princess to trust her would-be to show she wasn’t happy either with the King’s choice of wife. Truly, only the Hightowers were. The daughter of a second son, barely two years older than the Princess. It only showed how the Hightowers manipulated the King, how the Hand ruled in the King’s place. And though she had arrived at court to serve Rhaenyra, she quickly saw how Alicent Hightower had been unprepared for her role, how she cared more about her Faith than leading the court and consequently, how those tasks were being undertaken by Princess Viserra. And, all things considered, Rhaenyra wasn’t a bad lady to serve — they were the same age, had similar interests and both had something of a rebellious streak. 

Darting a quick glance at her friend’s scowling face, Bethany gently knocked shoulders with the silver-haired princess, smirking at her when she made reluctant eye contact. 

Rhaenyra gave her a sad smile, clinging to her hand while Ser Criston took his place, following them a couple paces behind. "I’m so glad you joined my household, Bethany," Rhaenyra murmured. "Things had been difficult since Aurelia left and even when she returned, she had my cousins and couldn’t spend all her time with me."

"I wonder, Princess," at the smarmy voice, the girls turned in unison to see Jason Lannister, with his long, dark blond hair and beard, coming to stand beside them, a swagger in his step. "Was your second nameday half as a grand as this one?" 

Bethany held back a scowl while Rhaenyra pasted a polite smile on her lips. "I honestly couldn’t recall, and neither will Aegon." 

"Lord Jason Lannister," he said, bowing his head slightly.

"We gathered that from all of the lions," Bethany said, drawing the lord's attention to her. Best to remind the lord he had an attentive audience. 

Ignoring her snub, Lord Lannister kept his green eyes on Rhaenyra, only pausing slightly to look Bethany over briefly before discarding her as a second best. The daughter of the Master of Laws wasn’t nearly as much of a catch as the Princess, after all. "I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Princess." 

With a snap of his fingers, a servant stepped forward, holding a tray full of wine and various finger foods. Without even acknowledging the young man, the Lannister made his pick and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 

"You’re a twin," Rhaenyra remarked. "Your brother serves on my Father’s small council."

At Rhaenyra’s words, Bethany looked behind the Lannister Lord to find an almost perfect copy of him, only with cleaner, shorter hair and a well-trimmed beard, watching the conversation from his seat at the table, his eyes hawkish and assessing. 

It seems there was only enough cleverness for one of them… it was a shame Jason was born before Tyland. The Westerlands would have been better off with Tyland as the elder son and as their lord.

In his short term as Master of Ships, the knight had been known for his caution and interest in the conflict on the Stepstones. In fact, he seemed to be the only one on the council who cared about the potential consequences if Prince Daemon and Lord Corlys failed to hold the islands and what it could mean for the kingdom. He’d petitioned the King several times to send aid but was denied each time. 

"Tyland is… frightfully dull; gods love him," Jason murmured in faux humility, leaning towards Rhaenyra as if to whisper a deep secret in her ear, holding out a goblet of wine. "The finest honey wine you’ll ever taste. Made in Lannisport, of course." 

"Of course," Rhaenyra said dryly, hiding her scowl behind the goblet as she took a sip and toasted the Lannister quickly. 

Bethany had long since tuned out their conversation, too busy watching the different lords around the camp, trying to see who would she recognize by their emblems and if they were the lord of the heir, trying to see who could be a good marriage prospect. She smiled at a few of the men who caught her looking around, playing shy and demure and hiding beneath her flushing cheeks, acting ashamed at being caught out as she went through her options. No second of third sons, definitely. She wasn’t going to marry a man who would not inherit a Lordship. 

Martin Mooton — a possibility, Maidenpool was a rich port and despite being known as a man who liked whoring, he was not known to mistreat women and was careful not to leave a path of bastard children behind. Donald Tarly — he was a possibility, but his betrothal to Janna Fossoway would have to be broken. Borros Baratheon — perhaps too high to reach for and the man was rumored to be illiterate. But he was an option still. Joffrey Arryn — perhaps, he was the second cousin to the Lady of the Eyrie and Vale lords had heard Lady Jeyne saying she had no intention to marry and he was her named heir.

Making sure to make eye contact with the older man, she smirked when the knight took the look of a deer caught in a snare, staring back at her with wide, shocked eyes, his face paling. Instead of backing away at his apprehension, Bethany kept eye contact, her blue eyes locked onto the man’s face as it slowly filled back with color, a flush taking over his cheeks at her obvious attention. 

She likely had some sort of reputation following her — the daughter of the Master of Laws and his last, ill-fated Celtigar wife. Sister of Breakbones, dubbed the strongest knight in the Realm. Bethany was also flowered, beautiful, and of Valyrian blood, which made her a catch to most power-grasping lords looking to harness the power of dragon fire. Even if the Celtigars had never claimed dragons — the same could be said of the Velaryons until their own generation. Her blood combined with her father’s position could entice the Targaryens into a marriage for one of her sons and dragon riding blood could enter the family she married into.

He was the cousin to a Lady Paramount, her heir presumptive, no doubt eager to step out of the shadow of his treasonous cousin… that could be very useful in the years to come.

Father had always warned her and her siblings of the potential conflict ever since the birth of Prince Aegon and King Viserys’ choice to keep his daughter as heir. The fact that Ser Otto had pushed for this hunt to present the little prince to the Lords was proof enough of the Hand’s intentions.

She was pulled from her slight flirting by Rhaenyra clasping her arm sightly, her nails digging into Bethany's skin as she said. "Thank you for the wine, Lord Lannister. But we really must be returning to our tent."

With that, they were off, ignoring the bumbling, huffed protests behind them as Jason Lannister struggled to comprehend the quick escape. Clasping a hand over Rhaenyra’s, Bethany frowned as she took in the deep stress lines on her face; no doubt the girl was withholding tears. 

"He thinks he can sell me off as a broodmare," she growled, her face pinking with anger. "To ship me off to Casterly Rock for coin and trade deals."

"Rhaenyra, you know you will have to marry," Bethany murmured, patting her arm and not allowing her to jerk free when Bethany’s words obviously angered her. "It’s inevitable. But there is something you can do about it." 

"What?"

"You can take control of the situation. If you must be wed, let it be to the man of your choice, not your Father’s. But you must choose," Bethany said, voice firm. Rhaenyra had always been privileged, spoiled by her father and given anything she desired as Crown Princess. Her mother’s death and the events ever since had only just awoken her to the reality of her circumstances. 

"Who should I choose then? Your brother?" Rhaenyra spat, her eyes narrowed and vindictive. "Breakbones, the Commander of the City Watch and heir to the realm’s largest castle. But Harrenhal is a ruin and your family are merely vassals to the Tullys. Your father serves my father — I won’t marry a servant."

Trying to push down the rage that boiled in her gut at Rhaenyra’s insult - Bethany never had the best grasp on her temper, Bethany simply scowled and let go of Rhaenyra’s arm, stepping away. "If you won’t take my council, then go. Go and throw a temper tantrum for all to see. Prove to them that you are just a silly little girl, ruled by your emotions and not fit to be Queen." 

Rhaenyra flinched at her harsh words but seemed to curl in on herself, her anger seemingly replaced by sadness. "Maybe they’re right," she murmured, head bowed. "What have I ever done to deserve this honor?" 

Smiling softly, Bethany took her hands in hers, "You are kind, brave and loyal. You have the intelligence and backbone to make a great queen. It isn’t your fault that the Hightowers are relentlessly trying to see your status crippled." 

Taking a moment to look around the camp, she spotted Aurelia off in the distance, still holding Aegon, deep in discussion with a drunk Viserys. 

Smirking, Bethany turned to look at Rhaenyra, saying. "Let’s take a break. It’s not too late to go for a ride." 

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Once he left his tent, it didn’t take long to walk to the corner of the camp where the hunting party was taking care of their spoils. Edrick grimaced as he watched the tall black-haired man take the skin from the rabbit with his hand and throw it on the table. "What did the rabbit do to you?"

Harwin Strong glanced back with a raised eyebrow, he frowned and then laughed. Edrick grunted when he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug, the slaps on his back almost send the meat he had eaten up his throat. "I heard you were back!" He pulled back holding his shoulders. "You’ve grown, you look like a man now!"

"Thank you?" He mumbled as he sat down and started twirling a knife around. "My cousin?" 

"Still on the Stepstones. We hope he will be back in a few moons," Harwin told the man as he crossed his arms. They were friends, despite the age difference. Harwin had been inducted into the City Watch after earning his spurs and they’d both been trained by Daemon while he was in the capital between his exiles. And, with Daemon often unavailable or occupied, they had grown close and Harwin even helped him improve his skills with a shield.

"Rather a large event," Harwin noted observing the camp. "I remember the Princess’ name-day this year, don’t think it was large as this."

"A ploy, look at all the banners, most from West, the Reach…" Edrick shook his head. This was Otto’s doing probably, perhaps an attempt of showing the King the support Aegon would have if he was named heir — Aurelia had written after her return to court, detailing how many courtiers seemed confused at the state of affairs, not understanding why Aegon hadn’t been named heir.

"What goal do they have doing this?"

Edrick let a hum. "To show the King how many supporters Prince Aegon will have."

Harwin nodded. "The King wouldn’t do that, would he?" He questioned picking another rabbit from the table, he held a knife slicing the animal’s skin.

"No," he dismissed, narrowing his eyes. 

"Gods, your poor cousin is conversing with Jason Lannister. I pity her."

A frown immediately pulled at his face, and he twisted to look in the same direction as Harwin was now looking at. Sure enough, Rhaenyra was standing beside the golden-haired Lord of Casterly Rock, a visibly strained smile on her face, next to Bethany who had a similar grimace on her face. The goblet in her hand was clenched between her fingers so tightly her knuckles turned an icy white. Meanwhile, Jason looked all too pleased with himself, smiling at them in his usual cocky manner.

"Oh princess, have you heard how much gold I have?" Harwin heightened his voice, mimicking Lord Jason's bragging tone of voice. "Did you know even my horses wear golden horse shoes? Have you seen the velvet of my doublet today?"

"I do much prefer Lord Jason's brother," Edrick sighed. "That man is much smarter. And he's much more humble too." 

Harwin hummed in agreement, and the two watched as Rhaenyra and Bethany excused themselves from the conversation with Lord Jason and strode back towards the pavilion before stopping to converse harshly. It wasn’t too long before they turned around and headed for the horses.

"Shit," Edrick muttered under his breath as his cousin mounted her horse, galloping off towards the woods, with Bethany close behind. He didn't stop to bid Harwin farewell. It took three long strides to make it to the closest horse. Shoving his foot into the stirrup and throwing his leg over the horse's back, he set off after them, leaving only a cloud of dust in his wake.

"You better bring my horse back!" Harwin shouted.

Edrick urged the horse faster following Rhaenyra and Bethany, as he distanced himself from the encampment, he looked back when he heard gallops, the shiny armor gave the identity of the follower. Ser Criston, Rhaenyra’s sworn sword.

"Ha!" He shouted making the horse go faster, he would find Rhaenyra, not him.

Time passed and the Kingsguard wasn’t behind him anymore, unlike his cousin who was still in his sight, Rhaenyra glanced back and began to slow down, Bethany following her lead.

"What happened?!" He yelled when finally reached them.

Rhaenyra pursed her lips guiding her horse away from a tree as Bethany led hers into a small trot away from them, granting them some privacy. "My father, can you believe he tried to convince me to marry Jason Lannister?" She spat indignantly. "The man had the audacity to approach me saying he could build a dragon pit for Syrax at Casterly Rock."

"I’m sorry, Nyra, I should’ve been there with you," he apologized with a sigh.

Her face softened. "It’s not your fault."

Edrick puckered his lips. "Do you want me to claim a dragon and then accidentally burn down the Rock?" He offered, only half sarcastically.

Rhaenyra stared at him. "Yes."

A moment later they laughed.

"We should go back," Edrick advised raising his head and looking at the trees.

"You can go and take Bethany back to the camp and leave me here with Ser Criston, or we all spend the night in the woods," she gave the options and galloped deeper into the woods. Edrick cursed and followed her.

Chapter Text

Day bled into night, hastened by the overgrowth of the trees above them. Rhaenyra's anger quickly simmered into a dull sadness, and Edrick didn't know what else to do but follow her and let her lay her heart out before him. They spoke in Valyrian at his insistence — for all the Kingsguard were trusted with the secrets of the royal family and that Rhaenyra trusted Bethany, he wouldn’t take risks.

They tied their horses to a low-hanging branch while the world was still only a dark grey. He and Ser Criston spoke a few, quick words, making a plan for the night. As the kingsguard left to hunt them dinner, Edrick quickly got to work, gathering any dry branches he could find. 

Starting the fire was more difficult than he'd anticipated, but eventually, he managed to create enough friction between a thin rope from his saddle bag and a sturdy stick to produce a spark. After that, the task was much simpler, blowing on the spark until it singed the kindling and grew into larger flames.

He sat down, pleased with himself. Rhaenyra and Bethany watched him the whole time, an unreadable look on his cousin’s face. They remained in silence a long silence, warm orange light encasing them and separating them from the darkness of the night. It was not a comfortable sort of silence. Edrick felt every second of it pass agonizingly slowly and sensed as Rhaenyra stared at him, waiting for something — a reaction that he didn’t want to give her. 

They'd spoken for hours before, but not once had the conversation steered away from Rhaenyra's impending betrothal and her frustration at her father's plans. He hadn't realized how little he could say to her now. Not with all the years that had passed, with how she had cried and raged at him during his visit for Alicent and her father’s wedding celebrations. Not with how he had told her everything would be alright like one would soothe an unruly child and then left. Left her to the mercies of the court, to be isolated by the Hand as his daughter’s womb swelled with a child. Left her to be whispered about when Alicent brought forth a son who threatened her claim. A son who they now were celebrating with more lavish festivities than she’d received for her most recent namedays.

What could he say to her, when that was on his mind? When he felt like he had failed her? There was a wall between them now, and he didn't know how to bring it down. He didn't think he could.

"Are you well?" Rhaenyra eventually asked, breaking the continuous whirring of bugs around them with her pleasant voice. Edrick tore his eyes away from the fire. The orange light illuminated Rhaenyra's relaxed face in a godly way. He felt something tighten in his chest.

"Yes," he answered, unsure of what else to say. The silence stretched between them again, until Rhaenyra sighed and spoke again.

"How is your keep?" Edrick's eyes fluttered shut at Bethany’s voice. He leaned back, resting his back on the tree trunk behind him. The surface was hard and rigid, digging into his back through his clothing.

"Thriving. We negotiated some new trade deals recently."

She made a non-commital sound, before scoffing a few moments later and the sound of fabric ruffling drew his stare up to see that she was now standing, shadows darkening her face as her gown was iluminated by the fire. "I don’t know what’s going on here and for the sake of being able to answer truthfully when my father asks, I want to remain deaf and blind to it," she sighed. "I will take a walk near the camp, but far enough away to not hear you while you sort whatever this is."

They nodded, neither of them trying to insult her intelligence by arguing. 

Teeth dug sharply into his cheek as he bit down on it, the pain a small punishment for himself. He shouldn’t be here, the thought came suddenly. He shouldn’t have followed Rhaenyra into the woods, even if it went against his instincts. 

When Rhaenyra spoke again, he barely heard it. "Do you want this life?" Her voice was weak and unsure, but she was staring directly at him, turning her rings obsessively. He forced his gaze away, unable to look at her.

"I’m happy enough,"  Edrick replied, unconvincingly. 

Rhaenyra lifted a brow. "You know I can tell when you lie."

"I am not lying to you." She stared at him, stern-faced and eyes blazing, until he looked away and sighed. "I do not wish to speak of it."

That had to drive the point home at least. They had told each other everything when they were children. Every small grievance, every ill feeling. It was rare, practically not even a thing of existence, for him to hide something from her. 

Edrick let out another sigh, this one tortured and resigned. "What does it matter? You'll find out soon anyway."

"I proposed to a woman I cared for and she rejected me, said she had to honor the engagement her father had arranged for her."

She could only stare, grasping at any sort of witty or comforting reply. Indignation flared up inside of her. Who could be better than her cousin? What could this other lordling offer that Edrick couldn’t? But deep down, she hated what she was hearing. She hated hearing Edrick had cared for another. Despised it with all her being, felt it digging into her skin like needles all over.

It took her a while to realize she'd drifted away in thoughts of what could be. 

"She is not being forced, if that is what you are wondering," Edrick said, and Rhaenyra was returned to reality. "I know who she’s marrying and he’s a decent man. He’ll treat her well."

"Did you ever think of whisking her away? If she had said yes, I mean. Would you have married her under the cover of darkness and then faced the consequences?"

Wasn’t that a thought?

"I did," he confessed. "But I would not have subjected her to it. We would have always lived with that stain. It would have haunted us for the rest of our lives."

"And me?" She asked. "Would you run away with me and make me your wife?"

He didn’t answer.

"And why not?" She continued, entirely serious, if not a little breathless as the idea formed on her mind. "I am the heir to the Iron Throne, no one would dare question my virtue. And even if they did, what power do they have to do anything about it?"

"Is that what you think?" Edrick asked, squirming beneath the warmth of her palm. The muscle of his thigh tensed, and he looked unsure all of a sudden.

Rhaenyra glowered at him and he tilted his head looking at her, her skin became hotter when he held her chin and leaned in as their lips met in a gentle kiss. Slowly their lips moved and both tongues brushed on each other, the kiss lasting until air was required again. 

"I don’t know what to do, cousin," she confessed, sadness clouding her features. "I want you, and yet father is forcing me to marry… I do not wish for any of this." 

"You know, since I arrived and you told me about your father’s insistence that you marry, I’ve been thinking," his forehead tensed.

"You will marry," Edrick affirmed.

Confusion took over her face, then her expression hardened.

"Now, before you try to call Syrax all the way from King’s Landing so she’ll burn me, listen. You have to marry and you have to marry someone who will be able to counter the power of the Hightowers."

Rhaenyra nodded, but she was unhappy. "And that’s you! A Targaryen by blood, lord of his own house with connections to two kingdoms."

"The seventh son of a vassal house and the only child of a rebellious Princess who still keeps in touch with her exiled sister," Edrick countered. "No, you must marry someone more prominent, Nyra. Tyland Lannister — he actually has a brain and can influence his brother. Or Borros Baratheon. Sons of Great Houses who will be able to influence one whole kingdom to support you."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

It took a while to find Viserys, but eventually, Aurelia located him by one of the largest bonfires in the camp. There was no one around him except for Alicent, who was still too far to be speaking to him. She looked awkward and at least a little lost, holding onto her belly as she debated whether to approach her husband who must've been on his fifth cup of wine that night.

Aurelia makes the decision for her, slipping past and walking towards Viserys. 

"Viserys, are you alright?" Her goodbrother stared into the fire with a grim expression souring his features, and Aurelia's brows furrowed as she tried to pinpoint the exact cause of his ire.

"I sometimes wonder if finding a wife for a son would be easier than finding a husband for Rhaenyra," Aurelia couldn't help but chuckle beneath her breath at his words. "She finds Jason Lannister arrogant, and I can't blame her. That man's pride has pride. Otto suggested marrying her to Aegon earlier, but she'd throw an even bigger tantrum than with Lannister. Apart from the age difference, and the need for her to be wed soon, Aegon’s meant for someone else."

He gives her a look filled with meaning, but she dismisses it and decides to play the naive lady. “So you believe Alicent is carrying a girl? May I suggest Alenya as a name, to honor your goodmother? I think Otto would be touched.”

If he wants her to fall at his feet thanking him for what he’s implied, he’ll have to work harder for it. She won’t be strong-armed into betrothing one of her daughters before they even start their lessons. If making herself out to be dumb to the ways of court is the price, so be it. All the better because others will start underestimating her.

She speaks again after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “Marrying Rhaenyra to Aegon would never work out. But, have you asked Rhaenyra what she wants?”

Viserys shrugged in response, gulping down more of his wine. “Do you believe Daemon will talk to your daughters when it’s time for them to marry?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “He won’t sell them off to the highest bidder. He feels like that’s what was done to him all those years ago with Lady Royce. He’ll give them a voice in their matches. He didn’t even agree to our marriage until after we had talked on the matter.”

"I do not think Rhaenyra wishes to be wed at all."

Aurelia couldn't exactly blame Rhaenyra for her distaste for marriage. She’d grown up seeing as her father disregarded her mother’s wishes and as the birthing bed brought blood and pain. She hated the idea even before her mother’s death and that had only exacerbated her distaste for it. And, now with her position as heir, she had a far more precarious position than all the other ladies of the realm. It was harder to find her a proper husband than it would be to find a husband for Danae and any future younger sister. "You know, I named her heir to protect the Realm from Daemon, and because Aemma suggested her, but that was not the only reason. She was my eldest child, the only one I was sure would not be ripped away from me. Danae and Baelon were so small, he was born so weak and I had stopped believing that…"

Aurelia tilted her head. "Stopped believing what?"

Viserys stared off into the flames again, then looked up at the black sky. "Many in my line have been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers." 

A sense of dread washed over Aurelia and her gaze darted away. She dug her nails into her palms, relishing in the pain as it helped keep away the memories of different nightmares, of a life no longer lived.

"What is the power of a dragon next to the power of prophecy?"

She barely heard him as she started counting, remembering the words of a medi-witch years ago. 

The bonfire, the trees, Alicent, the tents, Harwin and Marianne. 5 things. The tree trunks near the bonfire, her skin felt tight as she remembered. She gripped her dress slightly, hoping no one noticed as she kept counting. Tree trunks, the fabric, her hairnet, the goblet of wine.

"When Rhaenyra was a child, I saw it in a dream," Viserys continued, not noticing Aurelia’s state, her unease. "As vivid as these flames, I saw it. A male babe born to me, wearing the Conqueror's crown. And I so wanted it to be true, to be a dreamer myself." 

No, you don’t. You don’t want that, no one sane wants it, Aurelia thought before she even realized.

A gasp escaped her and she gripped her dress tighter. Finding a malnourished little boy who would shy away from her touch. Dreaming of all the ways he’d been hurt and would be hurt. Driving herself crazy as she tried to piece it all together. Charlie on the ground, unmoving, after a bad day in the sanctuary. 

She sucked in a breath and started counting again.

She'd long lost track of what Viserys was saying, and now she scrambled for purchase just in time to hear Viserys cry out mournfully. "I thought Rhaenyra was the way out of my abyss of grief and regret. And naming her heir would begin to set things right.”

“It did,” she murmured.

“I never imagined I would remarry! That I would have a son." Aurelia stared at him, unsure of what to say. She hadn't heard half of what Viserys said before, too caught up in the sudden influx of memories, of her dreams. Viserys’ words had struck a chord within her and everything that had been suppressed had come on to the surface. “What if I was wrong?”

And so there was only one thing she could say, even if it felt like she was disregarding every word, everything Viserys had set out before her. "I dream." The two words were enough to chase away the haziness in Viserys' eyes, and he gaped at her.

"What?" Viserys breathed, blinking at her as if seeing her for the first time. Aurelia looked away, hand raising to rub at her temple and forehead. She held them there and stared off into the flames again. She saw nothing in them, but at the same time she saw everything, heard everything. Viserys grasped her shoulder with his hand firmly, tugging her closer, away from the fire and away from the abyss of her mind. "Tell me what you saw!"

Aurelia shook her head slightly, not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't entirely know where to begin. “I’ve had them forever. They don’t always come true. Most of them are foreseeing some sort of tragedy. It sometimes feels like I never can do enough to prevent them.”

“The most recent one is of dragons fighting. Caraxes is escaping a larger dragon, which can only mean Vhagar or Vermithor — the coloring’s too dark to be Silverwing. I don’t recognize the dragon’s rider, but his face — he’s a Targaryen. A male Targaryen, young.”

"Are you saying my son will claim one of the larger dragons?" Viserys seemed mesmerized.

"I don't know. I don't think I want to know," Aurelia answered, and Viserys frowned. “The man kills Daemon. They fall together, dying at each other’s hands. I just hope that whatever we do, we can prevent this.”

A morbid silence stretched between them.  Aurelia couldn't discern the look in his eyes. But then he closed his eyes and breathed out.

"Dreams can be metaphorical," he began, unsure. "There are so few texts about dreamers, most likely mistranslated. Mayhaps... mayhaps you should write the dreams you have down, and we may study them. I would so love to understand."

“No,” Aurelia shuddered. The idea of writing them down, of reliving them in order to make a record of them was frightening. The idea of doing it so Viserys would look at them, try to make sense of them? It made her sick. “I’m sure it’s just me being too paranoid. We all have nightmares, don’t we?”

She put on a placid expression and cradled her belly, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Viserys sighed as he looked at her, seeing what she allowed him to see. The young woman who’d been saddled with her brother. The young woman pushed into another pregnancy before her twin daughters turned one. The young woman who Aemma had loved like a daughter or sister, whose life was now closely resembling the tragedy of her own life.

“I suppose so,” he sighed heavily. “You look tired, Aurelia. Let me escort you to your tent.”

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When the escapees from the hunt awoke in the cold morning, the fire was dead, and a thin trail of smoke was leaving the ashes. Edrick groaned as his eyes slowly adjusted to the sunlight, his back hurt, that was the first thing he realized. Another groan came from his side as Rhaenyra slowly sat down looking around, he did the same, spotting Criston sharpening his sword by the embers of the fire and Bethany still asleep. 

"Did you enjoy your first time camping in the woods?"

She glanced at him. "I wouldn’t say it was very pleasant." 

With a pained cry, he got to his feet and offered her his hand. She stood up and brushed the dirt off her clothes.

"We should head back before the King sends more scouting parties after us," Edrick suggested while fixing the buttons of his tunic.

"I’ll start cooking some of the meat from yesterday to break our fast," Ser Criston nodded as Rhaenyra walked over to wake up Bethany.

"Edrick," Rhaenyra called as the two of them rode back to the encampment. "Your plan, do you think it can actually work?"

"I hope so. I don’t see why it would be hard for you to charm either of them. But if you want more options, we can talk about it once we’re back in the Keep and maybe my mother and Aurelia can make some suggestions as well. But I don’t see why Tyland or Borros wouldn’t be interested. It would be a boost in station for the Lannisters and a way for the Baratheons to be the second family once again."

"Second family?"

"A term some nobles use," Edrick chuckles. "Basically the family closest to the crown. For many years, it was the Baratheons. With Orys and then Alyssa Velaryon marrying Rogar. Then the Velaryons. Now, the Hightowers, which makes many people angry."

"And the Baratheons and the Velaryons didn’t make them angry?" Rhaenyra bites her lip as she asks.

"Well, there were the rumors about Orys being the Conquerors’ half sibling and the Velaryons have Valyrian blood, so it was easy to rationalize it."

"Yes," she murmurs. "I can see how it would be easier to accept that."

Edrick sighed. "Let’s focus on your marriage, Rhaenyra, let’s have faith we’ll find someone who will improve your position. If we don’t, then we figure it out," he looked at her earning a nod. "Would your father let you fly to Driftmark?"

"I visited Laena a few times, so probably?" Rhaenyra pursed her lips. "I don’t know, his patience with me is growing thinner and thinner. And both our cousins are in the Stepstones, so I don’t know if he’d let me visit Rhaenys alone. Why?"

Before he could find the words to respond, a rustle in the bushes had his head jerking to the side. Bethany quickly stood, and Ser Criston reached for his sword. While they stood at attention, eyes glued to the bushes where the sound emanated, Edrick slowly shuffled towards Rhaenyra, with the intention of standing in front of her.

He barely had time to move before a boar bursts out of the foliage of the surrounding bushes and runs over the place they’d slept on, dirtying the cloak with soil and leaves. He ran to his horse, now extremely agitated, and ripped the bow and arrows out of their place on the saddle. He barely had time to take aim before the boar is back on its assault, rounding back and charging at Rhaenyra with a savage squeal. Not aiming, just hoping for the best, he lets loose the arrow, and the arrow lodges itself in the side of the boar, only deep enough to slow its charge and not stopping it completely.

Rhaenyra didn’t have time to move out of the way and the boar knocks her on her arse, and the only luck she apparently has left makes it so that she is still able to extract the dagger she has hidden in her boot. The boar is atop her chest, one of its legs digging in her lower stomach, making her short of breath. She cannot hear her own thoughts over the squealing of the boar when her agitated mare knocks the boar away from her with a well-placed kick, sending it a few paces away from her and allowing the princess to regain her footing.

The pig began to fight to stand, shrieking violently and roaring in agony, sending the girl scrambling to escape. With a yell, Rhaenyra finally grasped her dagger and, with a vengeance, began to sink the blade repeatedly into the boar’s face and neck, yelling the whole time as her face was smeared with blood. 

When the boar finally fell silent, his breathing stopped, the princess was covered in blood, the red liquid staining her hair red and pink, her jerkin stained and ruined. Panting, she fell back into Edrick’s waiting arms, the cousins embracing while their companions stood in stunned silence.

The calm was soon interrupted by another set of animal feet, this time lighter and slower. Still, they are not willing to risk their safety any further and with light steps, Bethany quickly prepares her bow.

Tucking Rhaenyra behind him, Edrick turned around and a short gasp left his lips when he saw the white deer… the White Hart. Slowly the beast approached with curiosity in its eyes, the deer looked at Rhaenyra as it was lured by her, calmly Edrick began to unsheathe his sword. "Edrick… no." The Princess hissed while the animal continued to get closer. Edrick tilted his head watching Rhaenyra’s hand go in its direction, she let out a incredulous laugh when her palm brushed on the hart’s fur.

"Incredible…" Edrick muttered in awe. At that moment he knew, he knew Rhaenyra was meant to be Queen, to rule the Seven Kingdoms, the White Hart was a magical creature, a rare one, and it was in front of them, letting her pet him like a dog. 

Rhaenyra was the one, it didn’t matter if Lords desired Aegon on the throne, she was the one meant to be in it, she is the one who has to seat on the Iron Throne, and Edrick vowed to himself that he would make her Queen.

The Princess retrieved her hand glancing at him with a smile. "Go."

To their surprise, the animal didn’t move, instead, it knelt on its front paws. 

The stag croons, and then it does the most wondrous thing: it bows. Such a thing as a White Stag bowing to someone was unheard of, but maybe that was reserved for those of the blood of the dragon. Her breath catches in her throat, and suddenly all her injuries are forgotten, the aching pains supplanted by wonder and pride. The stag nuzzles her with its nose, and she relents and pets its silver skin, so much like her deceased mother’s own hair.

"What?" She cocked her head, confused.

Bethany’s eyes widened. "Rhaenyra…" she looked back at her friend. "It’s… it’s sacrificing himself."

"How? Why?" Rhaenyra stuttered.

Edrick smiled. "You know very well what the White Hart symbolizes," he said, then unsheathed his sword, the deer didn’t flinch. "It’s sacrificing itself for you, it’s giving itself to you. It’s your kill."

His cousin gaped at him. "You want me to kill a deer?" She questioned in disbelief, he knew she didn’t know how to, Edrick didn’t even know if she had the strength to do it.

"Yes."

After a few more reverent pets, she retreats, only barely surprised by the stag following her. The stag lays down on the ground, never taking its eyes away from her. Rhaenyra is amazed at the intelligence in its eyes, and she bows once again, her action once again returned by the stag.

She kneels beside the great animal, dagger in one hand and prepares herself.

Chapter Text

Her sister was covered in something red when she came back from where she’d gone the night before.

Amma had spent all night worrying, though she had tried to make sure she wouldn’t realize it. She had spent the night with Amma and the babies, while her father was with Ali and Aegon.

A thick silence overcame the whole hunting party as Nyra walked towards them, hauling something white with Edrick’s help.

Every single one of the courtiers, especially their father, stared at her with weird expressions on their faces while she walked towards her tent. However, as soon as she disappeared from everyone’s sight, all tongues started wagging. The cacophony of voices made it impossible for Danae to understand what they were saying. This left the young princess very confused, and her pale brows unknowingly furrowed in a funny way. 

Something had happened, she was very sure of it, but she did not know what.

Danae crossed her arms, tapping her foot while thinking very hard, and tried to come up with an explanation. Nyra’s presence always drove people to stare at her and wherever she went, everyone would always smile at her. Then, greetings would always follow, and her sister would graciously return every single one of them. Sometimes, a few ladies would compliment her, praising her dresses or the hairstyle she wore that day.

That thought made her furrow disappear.

Aha!

It had finally dawned on the little girl what had actually happened. 

In her eyes, Rhaenyra had always been the most beautiful girl in the Seven Kingdoms. Her older sister, no matter if she had just woken up or came back completely disheveled after riding Syrax, always looked pretty to her. Still, not everyone spent as much time with Nyra as her. Today, however, when her sister had come back covered in that red liquid, everyone had finally realized how beautiful she had always been.

Danae looked around and nodded approvingly to anyone who met her eye, very pleased with the whole situation. 

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As soon as Viserra enters her son’s tent, she immediately realizes that the issue must be serious. No servants or squires were present in the room, only Aurelia and Edrick talking quietly as her twins played on the floor. 

She goes to sit in front of her son, who has his forehead in his hand, massaging his temples as if to rub away his stress.

“What is the problem? Why did the two of you summon me with such haste?”

"Because I underestimated how much we failed Rhaenyra." 

Even Aurelia’s voice sounds tired and as she looks at her, truly looks at the girl who is one the closest things she has to a daughter, Viserra sees the circles under her eyes, the redness of them and wonders why it is that she is only now seeing it.

"Our house stands united," she says, brushing aside her worries for another time. "Not as united as a few years ago, but united nonetheless."

"Is that so?" Edrick snaps. "We have an heir to the throne who less than half the lords expect to actually reign when Kepus passes. And her competition is a two year old babe!"

"While Rhaenyra’s ascension to the throne would have always been challenged, now she has the Hightowers against her," Aurelia murmurs. "And it’s because we failed to prevent Alicent from marrying Viserys."

That’s not fair. If anyone failed, it was her. As the senior woman of the family, the eldest of the Targaryens still in Westeros, it was her responsibility to oversee the marriages of the family and prevent unfavorable matches. Aurelia might have seen Alicent on one of her nighttime excursions to Maegor, but it was not her duty to dig deeper and uncover the truth. It was hers and she had spectacularly failed in that.

"Have tutors been engaged for Rhaenyra?" Edrick asked then.

"I haven’t been able to broach the subject with her, but I don’t believe so," Aurelia answered as she looked at her.

"I assumed the king had engaged tutors to make sure she’d be properly educated as heir. A maester specifically called for her education. She was raised being taught by septas how to be a queen consort or the lady of a keep. She wasn’t meant to be queen in her own right and wasn’t taught how to."

"You both know Viserys is absent-minded. And, with Otto Hightower on his ear, it would not have been possible to engage a maester to teach her," she said, after a few moments.

"So, that will be our first order of business when we return to the capital."

Viserra latched on to that piece of information. "You’ll return with us?"

"I’ll spend a few months on the Red Keep, my castellan and steward can handle the Cove for a time."

"So, we will send a letter to the Citadel and ask they send someone for the Crown Princess’ education," Aurelia contemplated. "We have to make sure the letter won’t find its way to Otto Hightower before it can be sent."

"You mentioned you wished for my brother to be part of your household, did you not?" She asked the younger woman. "I’ll add to the letter, tell him to travel with trusted apprentices who can teach Rhaenyra."

Aurelia nodded. "And, that moves us to the matter of Rhaenyra finding a husband."

"We should either host a tourney or some sort of event like they held for Aunt Daella or she should go on a tour."

"A tour would be best," Viserra decides. "She’ll be better able to judge the men in their own homes and it won’t strain the royal coffers so much as having to host them, considering her wedding will undoubtedly be in King’s Landing and my nephew won’t allow half-measures."

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Laenor watched from the balcony. Daemon could not see because his and the magister's backs were to him.

Not that he had any sick pleasure in watching him argue with an old man about their deals and any benefits the high Magister could consider for them.

From this high up, Laenor couldn't hear their conversation clearly. He could just see that the two had wine and looked at papers in front of them.

And then-- a servant came and whispered something into the magister's ears. He beamed with joy and stood up. "Bring his grace's present!"

Laenor crossed his arms over his chest and watched. So the deal was so good, he wanted to give away presents?

Laenor choked on his breath when the present came into view.

It was a girl.

A girl maybe two years older than him. And she looked... And she looked...

No, this can't be a coincidence.

This woman looked like a perfect mix between Rhaenyra and Laena. Ridiculously so. Purple eyes, lightly tanned skin and a voluptuous body, with tight silver ringlets tumbling down her back.

Her face was all easy smiles and seductive eyes.

She approached Daemon, because of course she would. Laenor looked away. Daemon could do whatever he wanted as long as he remembered that he had a wife expecting their third child back in Westeros. Still, it hit a nerve. Aurelia had done nothing to deserve her husband demeaning her so.

The whore kneeled in front of Daemon. One hand on his thigh, she got so close to his hand that one movement was enough for him to caress her face.

Daemon looked at the magister instead, very confused. The magister was proud enough to talk loudly. Loud enough that Laenor heard him. "She is my present, your grace. One of the most promising of our slave training. I know you sent your wife back to your brother’s court, you are going to need a more lovely one. A more beautiful girl to warm your bed."

The whore made a show of herself. Of her long flawless hair and perfect symmetrical face. She twirled her hair around her finger and those vibrant eyes promised all sorts of pleasure. 

"This is my gift of good will to you, my prince." the magister said with a smile. "I've heard of how your wife quickly fell pregnant. Doubtless she’s loose, used goods by now. Myra is one of our best and most promising girls." the magister leaned forward and whispered. "... She'll satisfy you in ways I'm sure your wife will fail you."

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The King was deep into his third glass of wine and he had no intention of stopping.

When he was younger, Viserys had always frowned upon excessive drinking, and not initially, even the trials of ruling seven kingdoms and worrying about his and Aemma’s constant losses, not even his desire for a mail heir had driven him from that stance. But the past few years had changed that and drinking became normal (it wasn’t an indulgence anymore) and now, faced with a problem he couldn't use his authority to wish away, he had decided the best course of action would be to get horribly drunk.

Edrick had asked to speak with him. Alone.

Another feast, the second in two nights, roared on the other side of the keep, none of the participants seeming to tire of drinking and dancing and making fools of themselves no matter how many consecutive nights they did so. He had retired a while ago, seeing Alicent to her rooms and leaving Rhaenyra as the hostess in representation of the family.

But all of this was unimportant, for at that moment Edrick walked through the door. He’d noticed his nephew had attached himself to the women on this visit to court — apart from some moments conversing with Lyman and Ser Harrold, he had been seeking the company of Rhaenyra and Aurelia (and his own mother’s, of course). He wondered why that was, but from his nephew's face, Viserys doubted he'd like it.

Viserys sighed, gesturing to the seat in front of him. "Have a seat."

"I think I'll stand, actually," Edrick slowed to a stop several feet in front of Viserys's desk, not quite glaring at his uncle but certainly not looking on in approval.

Viserys met his gaze, the two Targaryens sitting in silence, Edrick building up courage and Viserys waiting for axe to fall. It took quite a while, nephew breathing in and out rapidly as emotions warred with him and uncle drinking more and more wine, before the former finally spoke again. "How can you make a decision and not act to ensure it’s followed through? How could you name Rhaenyra heir and not think to prepare her?"

Viserys grunted. "Rhaenyra had the finest of all noble educations."

"As a princess—"

"She is a Princess!"

Edrick clenched his jaw at the interruption, but ground on. "She’s the heir to the throne! She’s the Princess of Dragonstone, not a mere princess like when her mother lived!"

Viserys sighed. "She’s eight and ten, I can’t very well send her to the schoolroom again."

Edrick clenched his jaw again, though he was doing his very best to maintain his composure. "You are sabotaging her at every turn."

"I’m preparing her — she’s learning at every Small Council meeting she attends."

Edrick scoffed loudly. "And was that enough for you? Was attending meetings of our grandfather’s small council enough to prepare you?"

Viserys ground on, the pain at his nephew's words slowly being replaced by the ever-present rage the dragons all carried."I’ve held the realm together this long, haven’t I?"

Edrick straightened, a flash of guilt crossing his face for only a moment before it was replaced once again with anger. "Do not divert this conversation for your own ends, uncle; tell me, just how do you plan on preparing Rhaenyra for the throne? Or do you want her to be like you? Mocked and derided by the —"

Chapter Text

"I’m preparing her — she’s learning at every Small Council meeting she attends."

Edrick scoffed loudly. "And was that enough for you? Was attending meetings of our grandfather’s small council enough to prepare you?"

Viserys ground on, the pain at his nephew's words slowly being replaced by the ever-present rage the dragons all carried."I’ve held the realm together this long, haven’t I?"

Edrick straightened, a flash of guilt crossing his face for only a moment before it was replaced once again with anger. "Do not divert this conversation for your own ends, uncle; tell me, just how do you plan on preparing Rhaenyra for the throne? Or do you want her to be like you? Mocked and derided by the —"

Viserys hit him.

It was a quick blow, dealt by an emotional and untrained middle-aged man who instantly retreated back, as surprised by his actions as the man on the receiving end. The Reacher lord’s head snapped sideways, the King’s fist having landed solidly. Edrick felt his anger rise as pain blossomed in his jaw, hands clenching the desk fiercely, for a moment forgetting that this was his uncle, his king.

He took a few deep breaths, willing himself to accept this as it was, before turning his head back to face the ashen-faced king. "As I was saying, you are weak, Uncle. And Rhaenyra won’t have the benefit of having been chosen by the lords, of being a prince. She’ll be regarded as a spoiled girl wishing for more than what she is owed."

Viserys was still clearly reeling from having struck the one nephew he had, the boy he had spoiled endlessly whenever he visited court as a child, the closest thing he’d had to a son for years. "So you are trying to tell me you came here to order me around for her."

This time Edrick grunted. "Of course I did. You’re setting her up to fail and don’t even seem to realize it."

Viserys' lip curled, though Edrick saw a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "How?"

"If you truly have to ask, Kepus, then I fear she is already doomed."

Viserys took another step towards Edrick, face snarling, and this time Edrick couldn't stop his response. He blocked his uncle’s blow with his forearm, knocking Viserys' fist aside and stepping backwards, leaving the king to stumble.

He stared at his uncle in a mixture of surprise and disappointment for a moment before he shook his head and left.

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Vaegon loved his family, the problem was always that he loved knowledge more than he loved anything and his family was always incapable of understanding him. That his father, desperate but still trying to come to some agreement with him and the happiness he wished for him, allowed him to go to the Citadel was in fact the best solution that could have occurred for both parties.

He still shuddered as he remembered those terrible years of his parents and siblings trying fix him, get him interested in more masculine hobbies and show some interest in the female form (or even the male like that time when Baelon became desperate enough with his lack of interest in sex or love)

He always thought that interest seemed exaggerated, even though Alyssa and Saera seemed as amazed by sex as their brothers. Boring and exhausting, as well as disgusting with all those fluids involved. 

The distance at least allowed Vaegon to remember the good times without any of the bitterness of those days because he truly loved them and knew that they had tried hard to love him. And precisely because he loved them so much he never allowed himself to fully indoctrinate himself in the Citadel, even when it was tempting and when he had almost fallen into more than one trap when they appealed to his ego and pride (to his pain over his family's rejection).

There was a poison that ran through certain parts of the Citadel and part of that poison was intended to harm his family.

Vaegon fought his battles where he could, where he would not waste valuable energy on already lost causes. There was great bitterness in his heart when one of those causes was Daella's girl. His sister was… stupid, Vaegon wasn't going to sugarcoat it, especially not within his own thoughts, but his distaste had arisen from his mother’s insistence on uniting them in marriage, not from any true disdain for the simple girl who had sometimes followed him around like a shadow, wanting to be closer to her brother in the same way the sister she idolized was closer to her older brother. 

The process of opening the mother to remove the child was something that was done only in the most extreme cases, usually when the mother was already dead. The reports they had managed to collect from some women in a remote group in Essos spoke of a similar process that they practiced with the mother still alive, but Mellos had applied it so wrongly that Vaegon just wanted to go get his anatomy book and hit the stupid old man on the head. 

Testing an experimental process in the queen and not following the most basic instructions was at best an act of stupidity that should get the Grand Master stripped of his chains and at worst an act of malice .

And Vaegon had his suspicions of which of the two it was.

He was also worried about the state of the dragonglass candles. Many of his fellow archmaesters (most of who he thought were involved in a conspiracy) were pleased to see them become more and more unstable, dimming their light.

But Vaegon was carefully noting each rise or fall of the candle and then looked for events that coincided with the date. If any of the other archmaesters knew how he was conducting his investigation, they would undoubtedly assume that he was operating with a confirmation bias and they would not be wrong, but he felt, deep down, in that part that stirred with his dreams and tightened when he lit the candles, that he was right.

The candles had burned brighter the day a new Lord Commander was elected at the Night’s Watch. Protecting the Wall that his mother's dragon had refused to cross and that was supposedly built with magic.

The candles had dimmed with the deaths of Balerion and his niece, only to burn bright and strong on the day of Rhaenyra Targaryen's appointment as future queen. They had dimmed the day of Viserys’ remarriage while they had burned all the brighter when Daemon married a Martell girl and on the day she birthed him twin girls.

Could it be a sense of familial self-importance? Maybe, but his father, when he had tried to convince him to renounce his vows and become king, had told him something very interesting. A prophecy. Taken from Aegon and his sisters to Aenys and Maegor and then almost lost to Aegon the Uncrowned, then passed from Aunt Rhaena to Jaehaerys. 

This all worried him — he had come to the Citadel to learn and to remove himself from the pit of snakes that was the court at King’s Landing. But his curiosity (as always) became his bane and he had to dig deeper, see how long the Citadel had been conspiring, who apart from Aemma had been a victim to their schemes.

What he found left him horrified and recovering from a poison on his bed for over a fortnight. After that, his mind was made — he and Caethan would be leaving. 

King’s Landing could be dangerous and he had no love for the place of his birth, but Dragonstone called to all with the blood of the dragon and there they would be unbothered.

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Daemon, Laenor and Corlys stood and listened to their war council.

Now that they had most of the islands under their control, the Crabfeeder’s forces were dwindling and the Myrishman was desperate. But he and his remaining men had taken shelter deeper in the caves, too deep for the dragons to be able to target them. 

"Thanks to careful planning, we have enough provisions to last us for some time. We have enough ships and now that support from Volantis has arrived, our occupation of the majority of the Stepstones is secure. I could ask for more ships from Driftmark but…"

"That would be pointless, father." Laenor groaned. He went to the table with the maps and carvings.

"The Crabfeeder has created a choke point… here." Laenor moved a carving that indicated the enemy and placed it where they believed the Crabfeeder and his men were hiding. "Archers hold the high positions, foot soldiers hold the ground. Our men try to get through but are ambushed and fed to the crabs. We’ve hunted them on dragon back again and again but they just retreat within the caves."

Laenor leaned on the table exasperated after his explanation. He heard his uncle scoff from beside him. Daemon understood his frustration. He was tired of this war.

"The dragons can circle Bloodstone until they fall out of the sky. The Crab Feeder and his men have no reason to leave those caves.

"Then we must give them one,” Daemon responded. He moved a silver fish across the table. "An offering of flesh to bait the crab."

 "Who?" Vaemond asked angrily.

"Dragon returning!" A man bellowed and every one watched as Caraxes flew above them. Although they had seen the Blood Wyrm in action, some men still stood in awe of the red dragon. Caraxes let out a trill as Daemon smiled up at his dragon fondly before nodding for the men to continue.

"Yes, who?" Vaemond continued. "Which man here will happily go to his death? Show me the knight that will march into that hell pit nephew and I will show you a mad man."

Laenor took a step to his right and pointed at Daemon. "Him."

Daemon smirked but said nothing.

"He is the reason we are stranded now! We only have one more island to conquer but we have not and he is to blame" Vaemond spat to which Daemon raised a brow.

"He at least is fighting this war." Laenor stated calmly. "How many victories are because of Daemon? What role have you played in this council, uncle? Other than Master of Complaints."

"Enough, Laenor." Corlys reprimanded while some of the men laughed. Those who did were tired of Vaemond Velaryon’s constant complaints.

"If the King does not support Daemon, why should any of us?" Vaemond bellowed looking around for support.

Lucas Aertaris, the leader of the Volantene forces, laughed. "I don’t know about you, but we’re here for the coin restoring the shipping lanes will give my parents.”

Corlys made his way over to his brother and grabbed his shoulder forcing Vaemond to face his elder brother’s quiet fury.

"Blood or no, Vaemond." Corlys growled. "I will not have you stroke mutiny. This war is not for the Throne sake but for the sake of the Kingdom of the Narrow Sea. It is for the prosperity of our home… remember that."

Corlys released his brother when they heard another dragon roar overhead. Daemon turned and watched as Meleys approached them.

“Muña?” Laenor called confused. Daemon knocked on the table twice to gain the men’s attention. Once he had everyone’s eyes on him he spoke.

"We’ll continue this later." Daemon commanded. He did not wait for any responses before turning to walk to the beach where Meleys would land. "Lord Corlys, Laenor, let’s go greet Princess Rhaenys."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

It had been a sennight since their return to the keep, and Viserys decided it was time.

They’d all spent the time since in various ways. He was accosted by his council until they could look over the ledgers following the hunt and take the measures necessary for the safety of the city with the expected influx of nobles over the following months. Alicent and Aurelia were both — in different ways — preparing to enter their confinements to welcome the newest members of the family. While his wife was happy in her aunt’s presence, soaking up the advice Lady Rosamund gave her now that she had officially been relieved of her position in the nursery, Aurelia spent most of her time with Viserra and Edrick.

However, Rhaenyra had come to him herself just the day before, asking for more lessons, wishing to know more about her duties as heir. And that was how he knew it was time.

And so, he called all his eldest child to his solar, and said: "Am I not doing enough to prepare you Rhaenyra? Why did I receive a note from a page asking for lessons from my councillors?"

An uneasy smile was his answer.

"I know my position isn’t secure," she starts. "And I know that some would like for it to be Aegon the one who’s named heir, especially now that he’s past his infancy. So I thought I should start learning everything a prince would have learned from childhood. That way, it will be harder for the lords to try to replace me with Aegon."

"I named you my heir, Rhaenyra. I did not do so on a whim," he snaps, his patience fraying. "You will succeed me because the king’s word is law."

"Your word is law while you’re alive, Father," she snaps back. "What happens when you’re gone? When I’m surrounded by the Hightowers and their lickspittles and they try to crown Aegon, citing years of precedence?"

"Precedence isn’t law," he says simply. "The truth is that the Iron Throne has never followed the Andal Law of succession. Aenys succeeded Aegon, but it wasn't Aenys' oldest son who was the King after him, but his brother —"

"Because Maegor usurped the Throne! Like they will say I aim to do!"

"Yet the Citadel recognized Maegor's reign while Aenys' son is called Aegon the Uncrowned," he says and waits a heartbeat for his daughter to recognize the truth of his words. When she doesn't find an argument to fight him, Viserys continues. "Maegor named Princess Aerea as his heir, but it was Jaehaerys who became the next King —"

"And everyone will say it’s because he came first in the line of succession, that a brother comes before a daughter," Rhaenyra cuts in. "And if a brother comes before a daughter, then what about a son? I need to be prepared, Kepa."

He sighed. "What would you suggest then?"

"Send for a maester from the Citadel," she answered. "One trained in a variety of subjects that can fill the gaps in my education. I’ve learned a lot by listening to the small council meetings, but there’s a lot that I don’t understand still." 

"And you think sending for a maester is the best course of action? Why not have the members of the Small Council teach you from experience?"

"That would be a boon," she smiled, more confident now that she was being heard. "But I didn’t have the education of a prince. I learned very little about trade and economics and nothing about agriculture or warcraft, for example."

He narrowed his eyes. "You aren’t going to learn how to wield a sword."

"No, no, I’ve… I’ve let go of that dream. But if we ever find ourselves at war, I would like to know what to do without having to blindly rely on those advising me. Daemon is fighting in the Stepstones now, but what if the Triarchy had been bolder and attacked our borders? I want to know how to react."

"And if I do this, if I arrange for a maester for you will you be dutiful in attending your lessons?" He asked, seeing the wisdom behind her idea and the handprints of his aunt behind it.

"I will, I promise."

Chapter Text

In Rhaenyra’s rooms, everything is prepared for the luncheon with the girls who are arriving to become ladies-in-waiting. The tables are heavy with cakes, cold meats, cheese, bread, and fruit. Flowers plucked from the gardens are in crystal vases throughout the room, adding color without being oppressive.

Despite the fact that everything is ready, Aurelia is still pacing across the room nervously. She met Giselle Manderly the previous day as she welcomed her and her niece, Rowena, into the keep alongside Jade Crakehall and Imogen Florent. But a minutes-long meeting isn’t enough to get the measure of someone. And when that someone will be close to her at all hours, close to her children…she can’t help but feel nervous.

The girls would serve them as their ladies, daughters to powerful houses and eventually wives to ruling lords. Their families would be tied to protecting Rhaenyra and Danae, into supporting Aemma’s line instead of backing the Hightowers now that they were affiliated with them. After all, members of the royal household weren’t just for Rhaenyra but political hostages in all but name.

The same went for pages and squires for Daemon and for Rhaenyra’s eventual husband and to any children invited to join their own children in the schoolroom. It was a privileged position, but it was a double-edged sword.

They would reap the rewards of being in a royal’s inner circle as long as they supported them. Should their blood turn against the throne, then it was their heads that would roll.

In the safety of her head, she can admit that she’s afraid of the meeting, of opening her life to someone new, someone unknown, and of the potential betrayal that she might face if she’s not careful or if she puts her trust in the wrong person. She’s ready to do what’s needed to ensure protection for her family — if at any point she feels like she can’t trust a member of her household then they’ll be dismissed. But it’ll be too late by then.

Something of her thoughts and fears must have reflected on her face, for Rhaenyra sits next to her and grabs her hand, a comforting smile curling the corners of her lips. "It will be fine, I should be more nervous than you," she laughs. "I’m taking 3 girls to your one."

"Bringing someone new this late in my pregnancy isn’t my idea of relaxation," Aurelia bites out. "Which is what the maesters have prescribed. I wish to see them managing a household and raising twins while pregnant and see them relaxed!"

Rhaenyra nods, even though it’s quite clear she doesn’t completely understand. "Would it help if you were away from court?"

"It might," she tilted her head, considering. "It’s hard to relax with so many people around."

"Then go to Dragonstone," the blonde offered. "As long as the maesters or the midwives let you travel, I mean."

"Thank you," Aurelia breathes and she squeezes Rhaenyra’s hands back.

They remain in silence for a while, only the sounds of birds chirping outside the window and the hum of courtiers going on with their lives in the halls. 

"What will we even do?" Rhaenyra asks.

Aurelia wants to sigh or laugh, because it’s both sad that Rhaenyra has been so isolated that she doesn’t know how to handle having a household and because if this were any other princess then she knows it would be a rhetorical question.

"Well you’ll share some gossip, they’ll help you organize your days. You already have a rhythm with Bethany, so it’s probably good that you’re adding more now instead of waiting too long.With four ladies, you can make yourself more known — perform some token acts of charity at least, sew shirts for Flea Bottom and visit a few orphanages…'

A knock on the door interrupts her answer. Rhaenyra straightens her back and brushes her hands over the skirts of her Arryn blue gown before calling out her permission to enter.

Jamie opens the door, and their new ladies-in-waiting enter the room, wide eyes looking around.

They greet them with curtseys, and as she sees the smiles gracing their faces and the more deferential curtsies given to Rhaenyra, some of Aurelia’s worries fade away. They were recommended by Viserra and Amanda, it’s not fair to welcome them with suspicion.

"Please, sit," Rhaenyra says, pointing at the armchairs and the settee cushioned with silk pillows. 

"How do you find King’s Landing?" she asks when the girls sit.

"It’s very vibrant," Jade says. "Colorful."

"Very different than the North," Giselle adds, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Rowena ponders a little on her answer. She tucks her dark hair behind her ears before she decides on her reply. "Full of distinct scents and sounds."

Their words linger in the air for a heartbeat or two before they all burst into laughter. 

"What you meant to say is that it’s overcrowded, noisy, and reeking," Aurelia says. "Do not worry; we all know the truth, so sugar-coating is unnecessary. This city is a mess and though Queen Alysanne and Queen Aemma had projects to help improve it and the king wants to clean it up, there are no plans to actually do so."

For a time, they talk about the city and the Red Keep, and the girls share their thoughts on the capital. They still try to seek positives and avoid mentioning the obvious flaws – the stench rolling off of the Flea Bottom or the dirt coating the narrow streets. Mostly, they focus on the Red Keep and the merriness of the court.

But when they exhaust the subject of the city and the girls’ first impressions, a silence laced with awkwardness fills the room.

Aurelia searches her head for something to say, but the anxiety creeping up her throat again makes her mind blank. She looks at the girls and notices the nervousness corroding their features, their fears and doubts lurking in their eyes, and their hesitant smiles.

She nudges Rhaenyra. The girls were carefully chosen for their families and the support they can give her. Imogen’s mother was a Tyrell and the Florents are one of the strongest houses in the Reach, whose support she’ll need in the hopefully distant future. Jade’s aunts served her mother before she married Lord Westerling. Viserra trusts Desmond Manderly like she trusts few others and trusts his choice on Rowena and Giselle for their households. She has Bethany already, but she’s realistic enough to know that one lady in waiting is not enough.

"I don’t know how to do it," Rhaenyra starts quietly. "I’m used to only having one or two ladies, so I don’t know how to do this. Aurelia says we’re supposed to sew and sing, but I don’t know how to sew that well and we can’t really sing all day long. But I want this to work out."

"Mostly, we’re here to help you in any way you might need," Giselle says. "And to have fun while doing it."

"See?" Rhaenyra nudges Aurelia. "It will be fine." 

Aurelia takes a deep breath and looks towards them. "Giselle, in my apartments you can act freely. I don’t want to be told I’m right all the time. And that’s not something Rhaenyra needs either," they laugh. "But something that matters to us is loyalty. If one of you decides to let others know of our secrets, we’ll know and you’ll be sent back home. I have children to think of and Rhaenyra already dealt with one lady in waiting who didn’t place her first. We can’t let disloyalty slide."

Angry scowls appear on Giselle’s and Rowena’s faces. Alicent is not beloved in White Harbor and that originates from their ruling house. Otto has never been a friend to Viserra or to her marital family and they weren’t happy to hear a Hightower was replacing their former lady’s niece.

"Why did you have only one lady-in-waiting?" Rowena asks, a look of confusion painted on her face. "A Princess should have a group of highborn girls waiting on her. With Lelly joining Princess Aurelia, she’ll have half a dozen already, won’t you, Princess?  And that’s as the wife of the current fourth in line to the throne."

"I’m not sure," Rhaenyra shrugs as she bites her lip. "I guess that with Alicent being the Hand’s daughter, she was already at court and we were close in age so it made sense."

"We won’t betray your trust, Princess," Jade says quietly.

"I hope you won’t have a reason to do so," Aurelia murmurs. "And that I can trust you when I’m not in court to support Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes at Aurelia’s words. "We hope Aurelia will be able to travel to Dragonstone in the following weeks and give birth there, away from the court. And she and my Aunt Viserra have been planning a tour for me, so I can visit many of the lords and maybe find a husband."

Imogen – the oldest of Aurelia’s ladies – offers Rhaenyra and Aurelia a confident nod. "We will," she promises. "There should be more of us," she says with only a hint of hesitation.

"And there will," Aurelia promises. "But that will come after the tour. Once you’re back and you can all let us know your thoughts on the people you met, we’ll all make a decision together."

"I thought this was Princess Rhaenyra’s household," Jade asks, but despite her words, her tone isn’t accusatory, only curious.

"It is," Rhaenyra says kindly. "But I’m a bit lost on how to actually have a household. This will be a learning experience for all of us, so I asked Aurelia and my aunt to help me as I get my bearings. They know better than me who I should invite to join us, and I also want to make sure we all get along so I will ask for your opinions before sending out any new invitations. I want to be careful with whom I pick."

"Well…" Rowena looks around nervously, but she continues on after an encouraging nod from Giselle. "You should try to counter some of the Hightower faction’s appointments. I guess that’s part of the reason you invited Lady Imogen and why Alyce was called by your aunt and Lelly and I were both called. You wanted to remind the Hand the Manderlys will stand behind you."

"There are many Lannisters," Imogen voices. "Maybe we can see if there’s one in particular we get along with and invite her? Jade, do you know any of them?"

"Mainly the twins," Jade shrugs. "Tyland is alright, but Jason is a buffoon. The Westerlands would have done better if he had been the younger twin. Their cousins are alright, but I can’t really say if one of them will be a good companion."

"What about Lord Beesbury?" Giselle asks. "He’s been in the Small Council for ages, hasn’t he? He deserves a reward for his service."

Aurelia shakes her head. "He only has one granddaughter and she’s too young. At most, in a few years we could invite her to be educated with the children."

The girls smile at her, their faces pleasant and friendly and eager to offer her assistance. They spent the rest of the day in Rhaenyra’s chambers, sharing stories of their lives.

Chapter Text

"Is all this really necessary?" Rhaenyra asks, overwhelmed by the amount of papers that are covering her aunt’s chambers.

“You have been given an opportunity many women in Westeros don’t get," Viserra lectures. "You get to choose your own husband, like Rhaenys did. We won’t let you waste.”

“I would agree with you if it weren’t for the fact that I have no desire to get married at all.”

“Unfortunately,” Aurelia sighs, folding her hands on her lap, “That is a duty that befalls every woman. And for you, it’s doubly important. Of course, there was no question of you not marrying even before you were named heir since some house would need to be bound closer to the throne. But now, you will also need to be careful when choosing and make sure that whoever becomes your husband will support you without trying to eclipse you or to rule through you."

“What difference does it make if I marry in the next moons or not? I will have to produce an heir regardless, might as well enjoy my life before I endanger myself in such a way,” she snarls, her mind going back to her mother and how often she was pregnant, all because her father desired a son so much.

"What happened to your mother was a tragedy, Nyra," Viserra murmurs. "But that doesn’t mean you’ll share her fate. Being afraid is natural, but you can’t let it rule you."

“How could I not? My mother died because of how often she tried to give my father a son. Both my grandmothers died in the childbed Why would I ever desire to condemn myself to the same fate?”

Aurelia nods and grabs her hand, bringing it closer to her stomach until she can feel the babe stirring beneath it. "Rhaenyra, what happened to them was a tragedy. But many women survive the childbed. Viserra is here still, the Good Queen had thirteen children. I birthed twins with no issue. You’re already older than your mother and grandmothers were and that will only help you."

"And how do I know I won’t share my mother’s or Grandmother Alyssa’s fate? That I won’t be constantly pregnant? How do I know I won’t be kept in the childbed so my husband can rule instead?"

"You need to weed them out and figure out who is actually worthy of being your husband. But that’s something only you can do. We can help you, but it’s ultimately your choice," Viserra sighs. "Tour the kingdoms, find your match. Someone that makes you happy as well as serves the realms well.”

“Will you, really help?” she asks, her voice insecure.

“Please, do not mistake my conviction with arrogance, but I fear I might be the only one who can help you. I will never presume to take the place of your mother, and yet that is part of the role I shall assume to aid you.”

The little uneaten food left in front of them has gone cold, and so Aurelia calls back the servants and orders the plates removed.

Once they have been left them alone once more, she straightens up in her seat.  “Might I ask your counsel already?”

“Naturally.”

Rhaenyra gets up and takes the parchment detailing the itinerary for the tour, one of the only pieces of paper she actually brought to her aunt’s rooms. “These are all the Keeps I have decided to visit during my progress. I am unsure whether this would suffice.”

Viserra grabs the paper, quickly skimming her eyes over the ink. She also reads the list of people Rhaenyra wishes would follow her in her travels. Syrax, the servants, the guards, Bethany, Rowena, Jade and Imogen.

“Indeed. And how do you plan to direct your household? A caravan of people moves much slower than a dragon.”

“I was thinking about making them depart earlier at every destination, so that they’d manage to keep up with us,” Rhaenyra begins, but Aurelia’s disapproving face stops her in her tracks.

"They would never be able to keep up. To catch up with you, they would have to skip some keeps altogether," she takes the paper from Viserra’s hand and analyzes it for a few seconds. "But you could have the traveling party be split up in 2 groups so they can follow you to different groups. And don’t visit so many of the smaller keeps. Visit the Lord Paramounts and some of their vassals. Is it alright if i make some changes?"

Rhaenyra passes her ink and quill. The older princess crosses certain names and writes down others, along with the expected stay. “This itinerary would grant you a full moon which you’d dedicate to travelling from keep to keep.” Then she turns the paper so that Rhaenyra can read it.

“And how do you propose to distribute the staff for the journey?” Rhaenyra asks once she has begrudgingly admitted to the superiority of her proposed plan.

“What do you propose? Keeping in mind that you’d need many more people than the one you have previously accounted for,” she fires back, instead.

Rhaenyra frowns, trying to think about the best possible plan. “I would say one party could cover each of the kingdoms, maybe two for the North and —”

“Let me stop you there, Rhaenyra. Taking so many people would deplete the crown’s coffers and leave the Red Keep without enough staff," Aurelia butts in. "Take two or three parties and design an itinerary for each of them that will allow them to follow you."  

At the end of some debate, the three Princesses have hatched the outline of a plan. Naturally, it’s up to the Master of Coin to ultimately decide whether that’s feasible or not, but the two are hopeful. Rhaenyra has also elected to let each of her ladies decide which parties they’d belong in, so even that will be decided afterwards.

Viserra puts the quill down after having read for the umpteenth time the scroll. “The crown would still have to fatten up the Keep’s staff with some new people, but it could be spun to play in your favor. The Princess who travels the Realm to get to know its people and, in the meantime, provides new jobs for the smallfolk.”

"So I’m to be a new Good Queen?"

"We could spin this, actually," Aurelia suggests. "You’re already The Realm’s Delight. Why not have some start calling you The People’s Princess?"

Rhaenyra grumbles under her breath. “Another thing. I don’t want to be bored by unworthy men presenting themselves. The idea of sitting for entire days listening to men peacock and petition for my hand is already quite stifling and it would only be even more so if we were to entertain proposals that have no way of effectively going through.”

“What do you deem unworthy?”

"Too old or too young. From houses too weak to actually provide support."

Aurelia hums. “I agree. Those will be unwelcome presences during the tour, but you cannot completely exclude such a big portion of men. But once the major details are finalized, we can send a raven to the keeps with the requirements to at least avoid some of them showing up. Men older than six and ten but younger than thirty, perhaps."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

A moon had passed since they had returned from the hunt, restless days with the exception of the luncheon with the Manderly girls. 

She’d initially been busy unpacking what she’d taken to the Kingswood and making sure the girls would settle in the nursery, comforting Danae since she had to go back to the nursery she shared with Aegon instead of sharing with her girls as they did in the woods. The ladies of the court liked fawning over her and her belly, but she was growing restless and as she broke her fast this morning, she decided she would seek out Giselle.

She dressed in a gown of gold and black, a ruby necklace around her throat and asked one of her serving girls where the Manderlys were sleeping and headed on her way.

In the main keep, she found herself standing in front of Edrick’s door, her hand just hovering over the wood as her heart was in her throat, sweat beading down her back. She had lost her nerve and couldn’t work up the courage to tap her knuckles on the door. Moments passed but they felt like years to Aurelia until the door next to her slipped open and out came Giselle, her hair in a long braid down her back.

"Princess?" Giselle called, raising an eyebrow at her. "Edrick isn’t in his room," Giselle told her, closing her own door and smiling gently.

"Oh, I thought this was the door to your chambers," Aurelia lied quickly, brandishing a smile. "I wanted to show you around the Keep. How does an official tour sound?" Aurelia asked holding out her hand. Giselle nodded eagerly, a large smile emerging as she grabbed her hand and the two interlaced their fingers as Aurelia led them down the halls. 

They wandered the halls together, the history of the Keep flowing out of Aurelia’s mouth with ease. When the got to the Great Hall, Giselle stared at the Iron Throne with a wonder in her eyes as Aurelia rambled on. From there, they explored the Godswood and she showed Giselle the small Sept inside the castle.

As they walked through part of garden, filled with flowers and bushes near the entrance to the godswood, they heard the clash of steel and loud grunts and huffs. The two traded confused glances before they hurried along towards the covered copse to see Edrick and Desmond, swords in each of their hands as they stood across from each other.

"Come now, Edrick, give it to me!" Desmond Manderly taunted with a laugh. Edrick twirled his sword twice in his hand before taking a swing.

Aurelia stopped and stared, her face bright red and her mouth a gape as she watched Edrick train, sweat beading down his face. He landed a slash against Desmond, even with the blunt edge of the sword, it left a small cut in his shoulder. As the two men stood apart, breathing heavily they caught the sight of Aurelia and Giselle, watching them.

"Princess!" The two men dropped their swords and dipped into bows. Aurelia’s face turned even more red than it had been and a smile slipped across her lips.

"Please, just call me Aurelia," she sighed. "I apologize if we interrupted, I was just showing Giselle around the castle." She gestured over to her friend who had plucked a rose from a nearby bush and was picking off the thorns as carefully as possible. Desmond had picked up the two swords while Edrick grabbed a rag, wiping the sweat from his face.

"You’ve interrupted nothing, I’ve been meaning to spend time you with you both," Edrick told her, offering her his arm which she graciously took.

"I have as well, but it’s been hectic since our return from the hunt," Aurelia admitted, her cheeks still burning as the two of them left the covered copse, strolling around the garden.

"Hopefully it’ll calm down, but my cousin mentioned that the king is thinking of holding a tournament when the babe is born," Edrick informed her as they sat down on a bench underneath an oak tree, a soft breeze drifting through the air.

"I heard, let’s just hope it’s smaller than the Heir’s Tournament," Aurelia commented, her hand slipping away from his arm. "Is that what you’re training for?" She asked, turning towards him. Suddenly, his hand was on hers and almost instinctively, their fingers were entwined together. She tried her best to ignore it but it was so difficult, her cheeks were turning red again.

"I wish," he told her, grinning sheepishly. "Desmond wanted to see my skill in the training field — we haven’t sparred since I left White Harbor to foster. And I don’t think I would compete, not when it would mean tearing myself from your side."

Aurelia blinked. "What do you mean?"

He cursed under his breath. "I was going to ask you properly. I know you mean to go to Dragonstone to have the babe away from the court — I wish to travel with you," he murmured, face earnest.

"I’d be glad for your company," she answered easily, a grin forming on her lips even as she attempted to calm the thumping of her heart.

"You flatter me."

"I only speak the truth," she giggled and a laugh rose from his lips as well.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

They were in the midst of their preparations to go to Dragonstone and Princess Rhaenyra had flown on ahead to make sure the castle would also be preparing to welcome them. She would pay a visit to her aunt, the Princess Rhaenys, on Driftmark and meet her cousin Laena’s son, little Lucerys before flying back to the capital.But they were listless these days and waiting seemed to be all they did.

They had waited for their journey to the capital, they had waited for the hunt to begin and now they waited for when they would leave. She knew Aurelia was loath to leave Princess Danae behind, but the King had not allowed his younger daughter to go with them (no doubt at the counsel of his Hand) and that was another source of stress for her friend, something she did not need at the moment, struggling as she was under the weight of duties and expectations.

And today, as she waited in the godswood to meet with Keira, a servant came to give Liane a letter from Laenor. She recognized his hand immediately. A neat and looping scrawl, Liane smiled as she opened the letter and read through it quickly. She froze, her smile slipping from her lips, and read it again. 

Dearest wife,

I write to you because I feel like it would be best for you to know and you might be best placed to break the news to Aurelia in the gentlest of ways. You have been her dearest friend since childhood, and know her best of all the women who attend to her. I hope that I am not overstepping, but I fear that no one else will know how to speak to her of such matters. 

There are rumor swirling around the camp and they must be making their way back to court. Rumors of Damon returning to his whoring ways, of him taking a mistress. And I can confirm that he visited a number of pleasure houses while we were in Essos and visited Volantis to seek Princess Saera’s support of the Targaryen control of the Stepstones. A number of women followed us back to the camp and while he shows no favoritism to any of them, he does not deny himself the pleasure of sampling them. I worry that many may already know of this and that it may be used as a weapon against Aurelia by those who would stand against Daemon.

Do with this information as you will. I pray that you will break the news in the gentlest of ways to ensure she is not taken unawares by anyone.

Your loving husband,

Laenor

Liane read the letter again and again. She’d heard the rumors of Daemon, of how he frequently visited the Silk Street, favoring a Lyseni courtesan as pale as any Targaryen. They all knew he likely wouldn’t be faithful. But at this point in time? With Aurelia juggling three children and pregnant with another? He could at least have the decency to be discreet, to avoid making his wife a laughingstock.

"What are you reading?" Keira’s cheerful voice came to the garden’s entrance and Liane looked up to see her paramour smiling, dressed in a light blue gown. 

"A letter from Laenor," Liane sighed, handing it over.

Chapter Text

Danae wiggled in her arms and Aurelia smiled fondly, stroking her sand coloured hair as she attempted to fight off sleep. It made her chuckle, to see how stubborn she was despite being so young. Danae Targaryen would not accept things being any less than what she wanted.

The gods were doubtlessly laughing at having given this stubborn girl to such kind-hearted people like Viserys and Aemma. She and Rhaenyra both had a share of the Targaryen fire. Daemon would undoubtedly laugh if he could see her, struggling to put down a child to sleep. But then, he was busy with other matters. If Liane was right, and there was no reason for her to bring such news without confirmation, Daemon had taken up with an Essosi harlot and taken her back to the camp in the Stepstones after visiting Volantis. 

Danae whined and Aurelia moved her shoulders around awkwardly. She wasn’t happy with Daemon’s dalliances, but she’d been taught to ignore them. She had a court to mind, three girls to raise and one more child still connected to her. One foreign whore was nothing to her and she wouldn’t let herself be affected by it.

“God spare me,” Aurelia whispered. From what she knew, Aegon was a willful mess already and so was Baela. She needed her upcoming child and Alicent’s to be more like Alyssa for her own sanity. But, at least Danae would soon start formal lessons with the children of some habitual courtiers as a sign of favor, so the nurses would have a reprieve of the group of stubborn young royals.

When Danae was well and truly asleep, Aurelia placed her in her cradle, pulled away from the window to keep any chills from reaching her. Certainly, any nurse could do this work for her, but she enjoyed being with the children, even if it hurt her prestige and left her body aching in her current state. And with Danae as fussy as she had been over the past few days, she’d correctly assumed she wanted some special attention and had decided to have her bed moved to her rooms. This way, at least the twins and Aegon would have a day with their routine undisturbed.

With Danae settled, she tasked Emilee with looking after her and set off towards the king’s rooms since she’d received an invitation for wine preceding the last feast for all the lords who had traveled for the hunt. Finally, the last of them were leaving. She finds him being tended to by the maesters.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, waving a hand to dismiss the maesters who had been tending to him.

"The gods have punished me for my indulgences."

"At least it means the wine was good," she commented, smiling as she sat down across from him, remembering the small luncheon she’d skipped in the gardens.

"Too good. You should have come,” Viserys groaned and Aurelia laughed.

"Indeed, but given my state and your daughters’ temperament, I wouldn’t have been able to properly enjoy it."

"Watch it," he warned her and Aurelia didn't respond, "I do not think she enjoyed Jason Lannister's company. She is cross."

"I told you she would be," Aurelia reminded him, staring at the ground.

"Rhaenyra has come of age," Viserys complained, sighing in annoyance. “She needs to marry a high lord, who will honor her, defend her. As every woman must. As you did. Someone to serve her as king consort. Her wishes in this matter are irrelevant."

She wanted to curse at the unfairness of it all, the hypocrisy he was speaking with but she only placed another smile on her face.

"Sooner or later, Rhaenyra will marry. But she must believe it is her choice to do so," she explained and Viserys turned to glance at her curiously. 

It grew silent between them as he thought about her advice. 

Aurelia couldn't help but eye the scroll that rested on the table in front of them. She squinted, noticing the mention of her own husband’s name written on it. "What’s this?"

The King sighs. The glare he sends at the scroll makes Aurelia wince as she realizes her mistake. "A letter," he answers after a moment, "from Vaemond Velayron."

“Why?” She questioned, feeling uneasy. He doesn’t answer.

She bites her lip. "May I?" She asks. When Viserys nods his head in permission, Aurelia picks up the scroll and sweeps her eyes over the letters.

“They’re losing their war," she says, glancing at her brother in law. She should have expected something of the sort, for the fighting has been going on for almost three years. 

"Badly, by all accounts,” Viserys agrees and she stared at him in disbelief. Did he not realize his brother was risking his life in that war? 

"They’re begging you for aid. Why not send it?" She has been wondering about it for some time now. It’s plain to see that Viserys misses his brother, troublesome as Daemon is, and worries about his well-being. Yet in the time the Sea Snake and Daemon set sail to Stepstones to wage war against the Crabfeeder, the King has not sent help. Daemon had to marry her in order to keep Dorne out of the fighting and still, the Crown has not offered help. And if binding himself in another marriage was not enough to prove to Viserys how serious his brother is about this war, about carving out a piece of the realm for himself, then she isn’t sure he will ever realize it.

"Because it was a war started by two insulted men. I did not wish for this war," Viserys says. "Lord Corlys and Daemon started it on their own. If I send help now, what will it say about their King?"

"Perhaps," she says quietly, "that he is a good man who loves his brother and his nephew. A man who can’t bear the thought of his young nieces being fatherless, of his cousin being left a widow or losing her only son." She knows it to be the truth. Aurelia knows Viserys wants his brother to return alive and whole. And despite his problems with the Velaryons, stemming from the Old King’s decision, he does love Rhaenys and used to dote on Laenor. It would destroy him to lose his brother or nephew and to see as Rhaenys grieves her husband or son.

The King closes his eyes for a moment. "Well, if you truly believe that, my dear, then you possess a generous spirit."

"What do you believe, Viserys?"

The use of his name makes him open his eyes to look at her. A small, self-deprecating smile slides onto his lips. "That I am forever doomed to anger one person in the pleasing of another."

“It is what it means to be a king,” she shakes her head. “But then I’ll pose a simpler question," she says. "Is it better for the realm if the Crabfeeder thrives or is vanquished? We don’t know if he’ll stop at the Stepstones. What if he goes after the Houses of the Narrow Sea next?” She asks, forcing her eyes to remain steady as she meets the King’s gaze. “You know what you must do. If you don't send aid, the realm will whisper about you. About how you're a coward for letting your brother fight this war for you. Your nephew with him. A mere boy."

Viserys stared at her for a moment as Aurelia looked vexed, not understanding why he was so torn on the matter.

With that, she walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

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King’s Landing was as depressing as ever, every single it a snakes nest that wanted to crushing young ladies under its weight. The smell, the people, the looks she received as a novelty after so many years away from court…

She was starting to wish that she’d pressured Aurelia into leaving sooner. If not to Dragonstone as Rhaenyra offered, then to a manse in the hills or to Driftmark — but away from court and its toxicity.

It was her she worried about most of all. Aurelia may be twenty, a woman grown by law and while that was true, a part of Maegelle couldn’t help but wish to shield her. She was too young to bear the heavy burden of all she took on.

After returning from Viserys’ chambers, she had not even waited for her ladies to disrobe her and bring her a sleeping gown, she merely laid down on the bed and instantly fell asleep, her arm supporting her belly.

Maegelle did not know what to do for her except offer her her ear to listen, and her arms to embrace her, and a prayer that the weeks they had left in the capital would pass as soon as possible.

Covering her with a thick blanket and ensuring Marianne would stay with her, she turned to one of the guards who stood outside the chambers.

"Please, guard the door. The Princess is very tired and should not be disturbed.”

"I am beginning to wonder whether the bruises under her eyes shall become permanent,” Maegelle dearly wished to roll her eyes at the lack of courtly manners.

“Nice to see your tongue is as sharp as ever, Viserra.”

She and her sister had deliberately avoided interacting much since she’d been called back to the keep. With seven years between them, they were never going to be close but their differing personalities only made sure of that.

"Good eve, mandia,” Viserra smiled. “She’ll soon go off to Dragonstone and we will be able to stop worrying so much about her. There will be less things for her to fuss over in the island.”

“She takes on too much.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Viserra sighed as she locked her arms around her own and they started walking down the hallway. 

“When she sent the missive to Oldtown, I expected to find a vapid girl who just wanted to secure her position. I think that a large part of why she never thought to manipulate Targaryens is because she had you, isn’t it?”

Her sister smiled, a coy and mysterious curling of her lips but didn’t confirm or deny the matter. 

"Once, I thought that a loving… familial relationship between our family was a lost cause… if our mother couldn’t achieve it between her children, then what hope did we have? But I think we underestimated you, Vis.”

“You idolize Muña far too much,” Viserra scoffed. “She and Kepa had more children than they had time for. Honestly, you were shipped off to the Faith but those of us who stayed…” she shook her head. “Saera and I were half-raised by Jocelyn and Aemon. Daella had Alyssa as her protector and because she was so shy, Mother actually paid attention to her. But they weren’t good parents and were never going to actually make us close with how they played favorites.” 

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Viserys watched Edrick sparring in the yard, a small smile on his face as his nephew wrong footed his opponent and had him flat on his back in the next moment. He clapped along with the others watching them and Edrick turned his eyes on him as he pulled the defeated man up to his feet and thumped him heartily on the back. He crossed to him then and Viserys allowed his smile to widen, pleased to see that Edrick's own face mirrored his. Things weren't right between them but Viserys was determined to fix things as best he could before he departed to Dragonstone with Aurelia and her household. 

"Good spar," he complimented Edrick as he came to a halt in front of him.

"Aye, it wasn't bad," Edrick grinned.

"I've just escaped from the seamstress," Viserys told him.

"She's after me as well. Apparently I'm not allowed to wear black to a celebration of new life or something like that,” he jested, shaking his head.

"Not even when it’s our family?” Viserys asked. Red and black were their colors, after all.

“I’ll just keep running away from her until the ship leaves the harbor.”

"You're sure about this?” He checked then and Edrick nodded vigorously.

“Someone has to be there with her,” Edrick said. “You have to be with Alicent, Lady Amanda has to stay with Danae and my mother has to help with the court. With my cousin leaving for her tour soon, it’s only me.”

“And you’re ready to be there with two, soon three, babes? There’s not much to do in Dragonstone, you know,” Viserys asked.

“I can always hike the Dragonmont and claim a mount if I get too bored,” he joked. 

“Be careful,” Viserys narrowed his eyes. He remembered the various disastrous attempts made by him and Daemon to claim dragons before succeeding with Balerion and Caraxes. More than that, he remembered how lucky they had been to avoid death.

"I'll miss you," Edrick said quietly, before he could stop himself. “all of you …"

"We'll miss you," Viserys nodded, blinking rather rapidly.

"I don't know what my father was like," Edrick said then. “And I was happy, growing up in White Harbor and fostering in Higharden. But I know I that, while I would have been happier if I had grown up here, it would have been much more difficult for me to leave. You…you always did your best by me and I can’t repay you for that.”

"Thank you Edrick," he swallowed hard, "you don't know what it means to hear you say that … what it would have meant to Aemma.”

"Thank you for everything you did for me," Edrick smiled.

"It was my pleasure," Viserys said honestly, stepping forward and pulling him into a tight embrace.

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“I love you,” Keira murmurs, as she breaks free of Liane’s kiss, but leaves their heads bent together as they huddle under the heart tree. Here they would exchange secrets and gossip in full view of the gods, ignorant of any offense they might have caused to this sacred place. At night, this is their place. Where they can be together without anyone judging them. They honor it in their own way.

“I love you,” Liane’s blue eyes trace her face. “I love your hair,” she runs her hand through Keira’s dark brown locks, then kisses the tip of her scarred nose. “I love your skin.” Her hand traces down Keira’s red and white dress. “I love the way you dance, and the way you walk, and the way you ride-,”

Keira has known Liane for two years now — and even when it’s been fifteen, twenty years, she will never tire of hearing her voice. “I love the way you play the poet,” she whispers back, “particularly when it is for me.”

“Play the poet?” Liane’s rosy lips part on mock offense. “I will be published one day. They will read my work from White Harbor to Lannisport.”

“Yes,” Keira giggles. “Lady Star’s modest rhymes and magical words.”

“Unlike me,” Liane kisses her again, running her hand again through Keira’s silky hair, “you don’t need a pen and paper to be enchanting.”

That is a bald faced lie, but it does not mean Keira cannot grin and blush to hear it, and it does not mean she cannot pull Liane closer, until she is not sure whose limbs are whose, and all she knows is the lemon-sweetness of Liane’s kiss and the rough bark of the trunk at her back, the breeze tugging at their skirts and cloaks.

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"I’m frightened," Rhaenyra admits, in a voice quiet and uncertain that is unlike her. She plays with the jewelry around her throat, a gift from her uncle. It’s heavy and it looks like a chain. Aurelia could not imagine wearing such a thing. She hopes Daemon is smart enough to not give her anything similar; she hopes he’s smart enough to head to Dragonstone as they agreed, and to head there with part of the loot as an apology gift for his unfaithfulness. 

"I can hardly imagine you frightened," she replies, dragging herself away from those thoughts as she turns her head to look at the ship that will take her to Dragonstone, being loaded with what she and her household will need over the next few months. 

"I don’t wish to be. But I can’t stop thinking of my mother, of her eyes when she would leave the birthing chambers. She’d lost a piece of herself, you could see it in her eyes. And then she didn’t leave…" her voice trembles.

A part of Aurelia, the part that is still purely Cressida, wants to shake Rhaenyra and get her to understand that not every woman is her mother, that her mother’s fate won’t be repeated in every woman she cares about. But she sighs and remembers that healing isn’t linear and that to Rhaenyra, the childbed is synonymous with loss.

"It was a terrible tragedy.”

"It was a crime," Rhaenyra spits. "My father-"

"Hush!" Aurelia says, her heart in her throat. "What if someone were to hear you?"

"He bred her until she died, all for the son I would have given everything to be," the Princess continues unabashedly. "Don’t bother," she sighs, when Aurelia tries to speak. “I know what you are going to say."

"Do you? I’m not the same girl I was before our lives lead us here.”

Before your mother died. Before you became heir. Before she was called back home to Dorne. Before she married Daemon… before… before… before…

"Do you keep her locked away?" Rhaenyra asks. "I do. The girl I was before my mother was killed."

"She passed," Aurelia says firmly. She’s quite sure no one is listening, but they must be careful still. They’ve started working on improving Rhaenyra’s reputation, on having people look at her as heir and not as a placeholder, but she knows how easy it is for things to crumble.

"Passing is for those who die peacefully after a long life of fulfillment," the Princess insists. “My mother was in pain until her last breath. She probably spent her entire marriage in pain, trying to give my father the son he wanted,” Rhaenyra looks away, eyes misty. Throwing caution to the wind, Aurelia reaches forward and places her hand on her stomach, feeling the babe move beneath her hands. Rhaenyra’s shoulders drop and she presses her forehead to Aurelia’s. "Don’t let them kill you,” she begs.

Aurelia wants to say a hundred things, how the pregnancy has been easy, how the twins’ birth was easy, that she is healthy. But Rhaenyra doesn’t want to hear that. She’s relieving her childhood at the moment, relieving every time her mother would head into confinement and come out sans child, with grief on her face.

"I won’t,” she says instead.

Chapter Text

Dragonstone (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

Ser Caspian helped her onto the shore, and her shoes sunk into the wet sand, the tide lapping at the hem of her cloak. She took a few unsteady steps forward and peered up at the curtain walls of Dragonstone.

The whole castle was made of black stone, forged by dragonflame and old Valyrian sorcery, Daemon had once explained. Everywhere she looked, dragons grasped at her attention, for they were no mere carvings, but seemed to make up Dragonstone itself, their spines and tails and jaws and wings all molding into a configuration with the same motif. The smoke and sulfurous steam from the Dragonmont and the mist rolling off the bay gave the illusion that she had plunged back into the Valyrian Freehold, and the hair on the back of her neck rose in a mixture of apprehension and delight. 

Dragonstone, she had quickly discerned, was as magical as the blood in her veins, and it was drawn to her just as she was drawn to it. The Stepstones had been too unstable for her to create a connection with the magic running through her, but perhaps here she would be able to do so.

She would have stayed there all day, drinking in the soaring towers and walls as the dawn broke, if their party was not approached by four men-at-arms in gold cloaks. Daemon's men, she realized; goldcloaks from the City Watch who had flocked to their Lord Commander when he was exiled, who had remained and would guard her household as she was Daemon’s wife.

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As Maegelle settled into her chair, her gaze swept over the chamber with a discerning eye, as if already cataloging the countless details of change that Aurelia had never considered. It was normal, she supposed. This was her ancestral home, she likely had spent quite some time here with her parents and then visiting Prince Aemon. There was a small pause before she looked to Aurelia, the faintest glint of a smile playing at her lips.

"Now," she began gently. "Let’s start with how you wish to allocate the staff. How many have you set to oversee the linen rooms, and will you rotate them by season?" Her tone was mild, though her eyes held a trace of expectation.

Aurelia blinked, caught momentarily off guard. "I haven’t done a count, but I believe we have sufficient attendants there," she answered slowly. "But I’ve left most of the household and staff matters to Madalyn and she lets me know if there are any issues."

Maegelle tilted her head, an amused but indulgent look on her face. "I see. And how many maids do you have attending you and the children? What budget did my nephew give your household? And how are you allocating it?"

Aurelia hesitated, blinking. "Viserys gave me an annuity of 100 gold dragons. I’ve tried to keep half of it in case he grows displeased and Daemon hasn’t returned, so I won’t be depending on their relationship fixing itself. I’m paying my maids 5 silver stags biweekly and I’ve let Keira handle most of the other finances."

Maegelle’s lips pressed into a faint, knowing smile, though she didn’t press. "Ah, I see. And has anyone been assigned to oversee the purchases? The kitchens will likely exhaust supplies quickly, especially with us being here at the castle with very little warning."

Aurelia’s brow furrowed, sensing her aunt’s point even before she finished. "Keira should handled it, but I can speak to the kitchen staff tomorrow so they know they can go to the village and buy whatever is necessary so we won’t starve."

Maegelle nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her. "Forgive me, dear. I know such matters can seem trivial when so many grander responsibilities rest upon you, especially in your condition and with my nephew away. But these little details— staffing, stores —can spiral if left unchecked. And Madalyn is merely a maid, she should not be overseeing your household stocks."

"Madalyn served Aemma," she defended. 

Maegelle smiled warmly. "I’m sure my niece made sure she was surrounded by people she believed trustworthy, but you should not rely so heavily on the staff. Place more responsibility on your ladies, if needed. It’s harder for them to be bought off by someone."

Aurelia gave her aunt a grateful smile, though her heart was heavy and her mind restless. Too many thoughts churned within her—worries that needed answers, plans that needed action. After putting the girls to bed, with guards posted at their door and more stationed in the corridor, she’d asked Aunt Maegelle to join her in the solar so they could discuss what her role would be over the next years. 

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Aurelia could feel the baby moving insistently as she walked out in the gardens of Dragonstone. The skies were clear for the first time in days and she was glad to be out of the keep and breathing in the fresh air again. Dragonstone was wonderful, to be sure, but she craved the sun after days inside. 

"Are you alright my Lady?" A voice asked then and she looked up to meet Edrick’s eyes.

"The baby seems to enjoy torturing me," she said wryly and he smiled slightly.

“It can’t be long now,” he commented.

"Am I really that fat?" She asked him and he flushed.

"No … I mean I … I didn't mean … that," he stammered out and she felt slightly guilty for flustering him.

"I know you didn't," she said reassuringly, biting back a laugh. “Why don't you sit down?"

"Thank you," he said, taking a seat next to her, still looking rather sheepish.

"You were right," she said after a moment. "I only have a few weeks left.”

"Are you scared?"

"Yes," she nodded. “I think any woman would be foolish not to be. But I did it once before and I can do it again.”

"I'm sorry Daemon can’t be here,” Edrick said awkwardly then.

"It's alright," she smiled wryly, "I know what everyone thinks of him… but I like to think we have an understanding. And if he can leave the islands, he promised he’d come once the babe was born. It’s not like he would help during the actual birth, even if I wish he could be here.”

"I'm sorry," he said again, unsure what else to say.

"He’s a good father," she nodded certainly.

"It's cruel… Kepus not supporting the war…” he said quietly. “If they had reinforcements, Daemon might have been able to come.”

“Betrayed by his own brother,” she stated, turning to look him in the eye. "I have two brothers, you know? And Qoren might despise me and Morgan, but I don’t think I could ever knowingly harm him. And Viserys…he just lets his brother wage war for years before sending aid? How could he do that?”

"I don't know," Edrick shook his head. “I’m closer to my cousins and my siblings’ children than my actual siblings, but I don’t understand the king.”

"I wanted to curse Viserys for it," she spat out then and he met her eyes again.

"I can't blame you for that," he whispered.

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Danae slipped by her aunt’s attentions again and Aegon kicked up a fuss, helping her dodge the guards as the girl once again ran to her Amma’s chambers. Although she wasn’t yet tall enough to open the handle, the door had been left slightly ajar, so she just pushed it open. Then the girl gasped. The door to the solar was open! And there was noise inside!

“Amma!” she exclaimed running that way. “Amma!” But her excitement and smile both died suddenly.

“Oh, I'm sorry, little rose,” the man said. “Your Amma is not back yet.”

Danae’s lips trembled as she held back tears. “I wan Amma!"

“She will be back soon, little one.”

“Weh Amma, Jam?”

Jamie smiled, crouching in front of her — the girl was too young to talk properly. “Your Amma went to a very far place, to have a baby.”

“Amma ‘ome!” Danae insisted, now a bit angry, stomping a little foot.

“I was thinking to go to the godswood, do you want to come with me? We can gather some winter roses for your Amma.”

That seemed to undo the girl’s angry frown. “Fahwes foh Amma?”

“Aye, what do you think? We can find flowers for your room and for Amma’s room. Maybe some for Queen Alicent as well, how about it?”

“Foh Aunt Amada!”

Jamie laughed. “Very well, let’s find ourselves a very big basket, shall we? So we can bring flowers for everyone in the castle!”

Danae laughed as well, delighted, and extended a little hand that Jamie delicately took so they could start the walk to the godswood. At least for today the girl was distracted from missing Aurelia.

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She entered Visenya’s room, the stories of the eldest of the conquerors running through her mind as she searched for any sort of connection, of magic.

After about a half hour of searching, some of that time being used to assure the staff she didn't need any help, she found the right torch, one that thrummed with power. Located in the far left corner, once she pulled it, a door seemed to appear along the wall and slid open. Peering inside, she found a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever.

The Gods told her to find this so she was sure it was not dangerous, at least not life-threatening. Grabbing a lit candelabra off the fireplace, she started her descent. Before long she reached the bottom, it was cool and smelt like brimstone.

It seemed like she was at the end of a hall, there were two more staircases identical to the one she had gone down to her left. After quickly going up both, she discovered they connect to Aegon’s and Rhaenys’s rooms respectively. To the left, though, there was a set of double doors. 

They were twice her height and made of dragon stone and glass. But what truly caught her eye was the large dragon made from Valyrian steel that was depicted. The body was curved across both doors, its wings curving along the ceiling and the large head perfectly centered. Its jaw was wide open with rows of sharp teeth, colored black with glowing amethyst eyes. 

It was terrifying. It was enchanting. And she couldn’t help but approach.

Once she was close enough, she tried to find a handle, but there didn’t seem to be one. After inspecting it for a few minutes she realized one of the teeth was sharper than the rest. She carefully brought her hand up, grazing her finger across it, before finally cutting herself on it deep enough for it to bleed. She was mesmerized by her blood dripping into the mouth, it was dark red like anyone else’s but looking closer she saw flecks of gold. Before she could dwell on it, her eyes locked onto the identical ones before her which started to shine even brighter. 

Suddenly its body began to shake and she had to take a step back. She watched as the dragon moved before finally the doors swung open. 

Once she stepped over the threshold, every torch in the room lit and she was stunned by what she saw. 

Directly across from her, at the center of the opposing wall stood a striking alter. Fourteen candles lined it with dragon wings wrapped along its edges and a dragon head peering down from above. 

To the left, there were shelves of books built into the rugged rock walls, all looked older than the world itself. On the right, she found a large fireplace, again with a dragon depicted along it. In front sat three chairs that looked well-maintained, even though no one had stepped foot inside for at least a century. There was a round table between the chair and fireplace, along with two others off to the side.

The room itself was warm, but not uncomfortably so. All around it seemed surprisingly comfortable. 

She didn’t know where to start but an armoire hung on the wall caught her eye. Setting her candelabra down carefully on one of the tables, she pulled open the doors. 

Inside she found Visenya’s armour and a box. The armor was breathtaking. Clearly completely made of Valyrian steel, black with red accents, it had two dragon heads on each shoulder and one centered on the breastplate. It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

Her eyes then strayed to a simple wooden box.

Placing the box on the table in front of her, she sat on the center sofa. Opening it she discovered a set of fourteen Valyrian steel daggers. Each had a different dragon head portrayed at the hilt, all in varying colors, none being the same. 

She wanted to read every book, look through every crevice. But before that, she needed to do something.

Kneeling before the altar, she ran her hand along the surface. Somehow there was no dust and when she picked up the single match it lit. She lit each candle with care before bowing her head.

“Fourteen of Old Valyria, I call upon thee as I have been tied to your blood, to your descendants. I have lived again and I know you are with me, I know you stand with my husband and I will forever be grateful. I have willingly given my blood and I ask that you not abandon me.”

As she spoke her final words, the flames of the candles grew almost concerningly large, before returning to normal. 

We are with you.

It was a mere whisper, yet the relief it brought was immense.

Chapter Text

Dragonstone (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, July 112 AC

The nights bleed together, the feasts and the meetings and the letters. The endless conversations with her ladies, the never-ending anxieties that come from King’s Landing and the Stepstones. The worries, the ones she’s too afraid to confide in anyone else.

She takes to wine heavier at supper; if Edrick notices, he says nothing. It’s simple, an easy escape, the liquid courage that helps her find something enjoyable in each of these silly events she throws to distract herself. 

There’s something stronger in the cups, or she eats too little at the table, because one night leaves her staggered against the wall, heaving unsteady breaths and threatening to fall to her knees. It feels like the world is simply caving in, her body betraying her, unable to keep her vision still.

She can hear footsteps down the corridor, tries to rise up to her full height, to put on a brave face for whatever poor maid will find her. But there’s a much taller figure rounding the corner, and she barely registers his face before two strong arms scoop her up, holding her close to his chest as he moves swiftly through the castle.

"You can’t — can’t carry me. I’m no child," she mutters, although the words are lost into his breastplate. "Edrick… I’m a princess."

"Aye," he agrees. In the blurry mix of the night, somehow they’ve reached her bed, and he’s laying her down like she’s a precious thing, a dragon egg or a fresh sword. "And I’m returning my princess safe to her chambers."

She can’t find the strength to refute him, as the room closes in and sleep sounds better than anything else. The last thing she sees before she succumbs is a face watching her from the center of the room, a mixture of concern and amusement in his expression. Like she’s something so funny, so endearing… And yet something that makes him worry, all the same.

(She dreams of a muscled man with dark hair, his massive arms holding her close. Of a body that smells like the woods, like dragons and sea breeze, a scent that grounds them both to this life.)

 ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Princess Rhaenyra’s caravan, The Roseroad, July 112 AC

It's a secret, a poorly hidden one, but Harwin can't seem to stop staring at her, wishing... but the words for what he wants are too big. He can only grasp at them. 

She's radiant, more lovely every time he sees her, even if it's just in snatches from across a crowded room. 

I love you, he wants to say, to shout it from the walls, to whisper it in her ear. Do you know? 

They get half a dozen moments together in the next week, and barely that. They’re traveling every day, the princess’ tour moving as fast as possible to visit the lords and assess their loyalty to the crown and who can be a suitable consort. And still, Harwin feels his thoughts pull back to her at the most inopportune moments, a moth to a candle. 

She finds him before he leaves to prepare his horse, and among a sea of nobles preparing, they are, for a moment, alone. 

"I want you to have this," she says, and her hands are pressing a square of embroidered silk into his. 

"A favor?" 

Her eyes are inscrutable, when he searches them, but he wonders if they are not a mirror of his own. 

"Yes," she says, and tucks it away into his armor.

Hidden, and near his heart. "To keep you safe."

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Bloodstone, The Stepstones, The Narrow Sea, July 112 AC

With his hands leaning against the table, Daemon takes a couple of deep breaths, steeling himself to endure time in council with both Vaemond and Corlys. One has already been dubbed ‘Master of Complaints’ by his nephew and the other one is acting like this is his first campaign.

Before anyone can say anything, the claps of the tent open again, and a Velaryon face peeks inside. "Prince Daemon, someone’s here to see you."

Daemon closes his eyes and counts to ten in his head. He will kill the boy, he swears. Not even a moment ago, he had just told him to keep everyone away from the tent. A growl rises in his throat as he turns around.

Five men in black and red armor stand at the entrance. On their chest is the three-headed-dragon of House Targaryen, an obvious sign of who has sent them. Daemon bites the inside of his cheek. If they are here with a letter from Otto Hightower with the joyful news of the birth of the new Prince, he is going to kill someone. Probably Vaemond.

"Prince Daemon," the one in the front says. "I bring word from His Grace, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Daemon takes the offered scroll and slowly breaks the seal. The muscle above Daemon’s right eye twitches as he wonders what message his brother has for him. He doesn’t have hope it’s anything useful. No, whatever news the messenger brings after two years of silence from his brother will not be good.

His eyes skim through the words written in Viserys’ neat penmanship, and the slow simmering anger boils to rage in his belly.

Brother,

I have ordered ships and men to set sail from King’s Landing to join the effort in the Stepstones. Though time and circumstance have seen us estranged, know that it is not my desire to see you fail in your cause. It is, instead, my hope that this aid will deliver the victory that has thus far evaded us. I shall pray nightly to the gods for your safe return.  

Breathing through his nose, Daemon rolls back the parchment before handing it back to the knight. His vision clouds as Viserys’ words echo in his ears in the rhythm of his pounding blood. How dare his brother talk about the victory that has evaded them? As if he’s been a part of this fight? As if he’s bled and burned and killed alongside Daemon and his men? As if he’s gone hungry due to rations running low, as if he’s been injured in this war?

He looks up at the roof of the tent. Corlys’ tent, too, has turned into a dull grey, the fabric fading from years of rain, wind, and sun. Yet at the corner of his vision, red spots start to appear, slowly bathing everything before his eyes in the color of blood.

The steel of his helm creaks under the force of his fingers. Then, it’s just the sound of metal hitting the flesh and grunts of pain following each of his blows.

Someone’s shouting, but the sound is off as if coming from far, far away. It doesn’t matter anyway; nothing but Daemon’s rage, Viserys’ words ringing in his ears, and the blood in his mouth.

Rough hands grab his shoulders and pull him away. "That’s enough," a voice says. 

"Stop," another voice shouts.

Blood is splattered over Daemon’s hands. He looks at it and then down at the ground, where a body lies in a puddle of blood. 

Laenor leads him away; Morgan helping his goodbrother drag Daemon out of the tent. The air smells of battle and blood, and the scent calls to the rage burning in Daemon’s veins. He grabs Laenor’s arm, not caring about the bruising force of his grip. "That plan of yours," he growls into the boy’s face. "Tell me of it."

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Dragonstone (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, July 112 AC

After two weeks with no word, she and Maegelle made their way towards the chambers of their unexpected guest. 

Aurelia took a sick delight in watching as the forgotten Targaryen prince’s face paled at seeing them. A pale, purple-eyed and golden haired woman with crow’s feet in a septa’s clothing and a pregnant dornishwoman in his house’s colors.

"Uncle Vaegon," Aurelia greeted. "It’s nice to finally meet you."

If anything, the accounts of those who remembered the last of the sons of Jaehaerys and Alysanne were almost perfect. Perhaps a bit embellished, but Vaegon’s height suffered from the poor posture of someone who would spend way too long curved into books. More due to his spine than about lack of height. His thin lips were turned downwards in displeasure, dark bruises of sleepless nights beneath sharp purple eyes. Straight, silvery-golden hair was kept short and his face was perfectly shaved. Yet… Aurelia didn’t think he was unhappy to see her there, instead, and by all accounts, this was just how he always looked.

Vaegon merely hummed and hid his own features behind the famous mask of the archmaesters, a gold one in his case. "You might as well come in."

Aurelia trailed after her husband’s uncle to the very center of the room, where a desk was positioned, covered in parchment and various tomes.

She stated the obvious. "You do not seem surprised to see me here."

"You came quite some time ago," he answered dryly. "And my nephew’s daughter sent word so the castle would be prepared, so no, it isn’t a surprise."

Well, but if this wasn’t an auspicious start. Aurelia pursed her lips. "I apologize for any inconvenience my coming here may have caused you."

But Vaegon just waved his hand which only ever confused Aurelia even more. "I was not surprised. This is my house’s ancestral home, after all."

They followed him to an antechamber that could almost be called lived-in, if not for the fact that there were only two chairs and the clearly used one was facing a desk that was almost hidden away by books on it, surrounding it and leaning on it.

"Please sit," Vaegon invited to which Aurelia was once again grateful for. The babe was in an uncomfortable position, causing pain in her back.

"Brother, we’re here for a reason, as you can imagine," Maegelle jumped in, as they had agreed. "Our house has gained new members in recent years, with both our nephews remarrying and Rhaenys children marrying recently as well."

"So, I’ve heard,"  Vaegon did not seem very thrilled… he did not seem much of anything really. "I know what you might ask me, but I’m not sure if you’ve thought this through."

Most likely. But Aurelia did not want to admit to such. Especially to someone that did not seem to feel very warmly towards his House and her marital House.

"Do enlighten me. What am I here to ask you?" 

If Vaegon had one drop of the blood of the dragon, he would rise up to the challenge. Just as Daemon or Rhaenyra would do.

But Vaegon just sighed and Aurelia was a little disconcerted. The man in front of her did not look like he passed merely nine and forty summers. Not in the lack of lines on his face or the way he still had a full head of hair which had the shade of silver. And yet there was just something in his eyes that was eerie. That gave Vaegon Targaryen an ancient look.

"Let’s start with the obvious. Viserys named Rhaenyra as the heir after Aemma died, but he remarried soon after. Then Daemon and Corlys started a war and they needed to keep Dorne out of it, so he married you. Viserys had a son, you had two daughters and then Daemon got you pregnant again, so he sent you to the capital. I was honestly expecting to be contacted then. Around the time Mae left Oldtown at most."

Aurelia pursed her lips again. It would have been smarter, wouldn’t it? To gather support and allies as soon as possible. Vaegon was right.

But she knew the stories about Vaegon and did not think he would want to return, so she kept him at the back of her mind, as a possibility instead of one more ally to recruit.

Vaegon for his part only nodded at the lack of response. "And now the reason you’re here. Of course, I made it easier by actually coming here. But what will you ask me to do? Be a spy in the Citadel? Ingratiate myself with the Hightowers so I can pass along their plans to Rhaenyra?"

Aurelia shouldn’t be surprised at the bluntness with which Vaegon was speaking. He was well known for it after all and to be truthful she preferred it, and she also knew that Daemon  and Rhaenyra would prefer it as well.

While having information straight from the source was an interesting idea, they were Targaryens. They were not meant to simply act in the shadows.

Aurelia raised her chin, there was no need to correct her posture, her back was already straight and tall even sitting down. "You think too small. Information is one the pillars of any conflict, it is true. But if we thought of using the Targaryens in the Starry Sept and in the Citadel, the very heart of Oldtown where the Hightowers have their seat of power, then we would have to assume they did not forget either. And you’re here without leave from the Citadel, I assume, so what guarantee do I have that they will take you back? Or that you will not be watched closely when you return?"

Vaegon raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Then what is it that you think I can give you and yours?"

But Aurelia was done with him, if Vaegon did not adhere to courtly fake pleasantries, then she did not see the need for it either. "You are still the son of Jaehaerys and Alysanne Targaryen, you are still a Targaryen, born a Prince and third in line for the throne, despite your indifference towards your blood. Your house needs you now."

And Vaegon finally showed something other than disinterest and thinly veiled criticism. His eyes narrowed and his shoulders, so long accustomed to being curved and round, straightened and squared.

For one moment, Aurelia was almost afraid that Vaegon would not heed the call. That he would merely suppress the urge to slap her, but there was… something in his eyes. Something that she could almost call fire, dragon fire. Aurelia easily recognized anger in purple eyes. And there was plenty of it in Vaegon’s own.

"What do you want?"

Aurelia smiled.

Chapter Text

Dragonstone (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

Aurelia was in the library after a long day of organizing the keep’s ledgers, even if it would be a while before Rhaenyra came and made it her residence. She yawned and went to put her book down. However, she found it was further than she remembered. 

Edrick was with her, as he had also wished to look through the books at his mother’s ancestral home. He came up behind her and set the book back on the shelf for her. His chest was pressed against her back. It felt hot against her skin, even through the fabric of her dress.

Aurelia turned to look up at him and suddenly their chests were pressed against each other, the babe kicking at the sudden pressure. She felt something between her legs twinge, tighten. 

Edrick’s neck was angled down towards her and his eyes were dark. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach twisted. 

"Edrick," his name slipped from her lips as his hand settled on her waist. 

His eyes grew darker. "Aurelia."

His breath was hot against her face as he grew closer.  Until his lips hovered so close to Aurelia’s that she could practically feel them already on her. 

And then they were. It was a sort of completion. His free hand went to cradle her head as the kiss became more firm. 

Aurelia gasped and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth and he pressed her more firmly against the bookshelf. 

She felt a need in her belly and it began to twist and she felt relief with him pressed against her body.  

Her body was on fire, her throat was dry and he was the cool breeze, he was the relief. 

A moan came from her mouth and Edrick pulled her away. 

"We shouldn’t," he whispered softly.

"No," she replied, her heart crumbling. "No, we shouldn’t."

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Goldengrove (House Rowan’s ancestral seat), The Reach, August 112 AC

The hours between the Princess’ arrival and the feast that night were a blur to Robert, he remembers being introduced to Princess Rhaenyra and her ladies by his mother, attempting to keep his sister Lina under control after she was caught trying to sneak out to see the dragon and by the time he returned to his room to freshen up before the feast, he was tired. He was to escort  the Princess and sit next to her for the night which, for some reason, made Robert’s heart jump a little. He concerned himself little with girls, most of his thoughts were with swords and learning how to lead.

Despite being a man, he never spent a large amount of time lusting after women unlike his goodbrother Leo, who often talked about wanting to bed this girl or that. Yet when Robert had been introduced to the Princess, the way she smiled at him so genuinely, curtsied for him so neatly it nearly made his heart burst in his chest. 

By the time the feast came, Robert had changed twice, having sweated out of his first doublet and the second one he had laid out he decided he didn’t like as much as he thought. He opted for a sand colored doublet and a golden tree pin sat on his chest. 

Each step he took sent a little more fear coursing through his veins, for one of the few times in recent memory, Robert was nervous, a twinge of anxiety in his chest as he reached the Princess’s temporary room inside Goldengrove. He took a deep breath before lightly tapping his knuckles against the wood. The door flew open and there stood Princess Rhaenyra in all her glory. Robert’s heart did that little jump it did early as he gazed at her. She wore a gown of red velvet, a dragon’s head fearsome and roaring on the bodice of her dress. Her hair was in long, loose curls that shone like golden coins and around her head was a circlet of rubies that matched her eyes.

"Ser Robert!" She chimed, a smile on her face as she stepped out of her room, closing the door behind her. He offered her his arm and she graciously took it before they continued down the hall. Robert’s heart was in his throat, sweat beading down his back. There was no reason for him to be this nervous but for some reason he was.

"I hope the travel to the Roseroad was easy on you, Princess," he offered and she just smiled at him and nodded.

"It’s beautiful here in the Reach, I’ve never been anywhere but the Crownlands and the Vale," she told him, a smile on her lips the entire time, it was if her joy was contagious because a smile was suddenly spreading over Robert’s face all the same.

"I’ve never left the Reach if it makes you feel any better, Princess," he admitted to which she giggled which in turn made Robert’s stomach flip over on itself. If given the chance, he thought, she would make a wonderful Queen.

By the time they reached the Great Hall, the line to enter was already forming and from behind the closed door Robert could hear the shouts, laughter and song of the feast. In front of him were his parents, and in front of them were his mother’s parents, given deference despite it being his father’s keep. Soon the rest of the entourage arrived, Tyrell cousins escorting some of the Princess’ ladies and a dark haired lady in the arm of the one who could only be Breakbones.

Then, in a flash, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the line moved forward. Cheers and claps could be heard as his parents and his grandparents came into the Great Hall. Soon enough he was crossing below the platform where they sat, a foolish grin across his face as Rhaenyra waved to the crowd which cheered for the both of them as they sat.

The night carried on smoothly, laughing and songs came more often than the courses did. Robert could hardly eat, he was still so awestruck by the Princess and the laughter of his siblings. At one point he looked out into the crowd to see a group of boys cheering on his half brother Elias Flowers as he chugged down a pint of ale. Robert chuckled and when he caught his eye, he raised his own glass to him which got him a nod and smile from Elias. Four hours into the feast and Robert didn’t remember eating a single thing, he did notice that the one glass of wine his father permitted them to have on special occasions such as this was already gone. He and Rhaenyra had been whispering in each other’s ears the entire night, trading secrets about their families which left them in fits of giggles, Robert felt like he was a boy of ten again, giddy with joy. 

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Dragonstone (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

Aurelia was nearing the end of her pregnancy, but she was able to remain relatively active and attend to the running of the castle and to the children as well. Every day as she neared closer to the birth, the concern in Ser Caspian’s face deepened — more than once he’d asked if she should not take to her chambers, as many other ladies did. 

In truth, though it was a breach from custom for her not to enter confinement, she preferred it this way. During her first pregnancy, there had been no rooms for her to confine herself to and considering that the girls had both been healthy, she saw no reason to do so this time.

And Aurelia enjoyed her days, her meetings with the steward and the maids in the morning, her afternoons spent in the nursery. She enjoyed her days in the island and wondered how she would introduce a newborn into their haphazard routine.

That day, after putting her three girls down for nap, she still felt restless, so she requested Ser Caspian escort her on a walk through Aegon’s Garden.

"Is that wise, Your Highness?" 

Aurelia laughed. "Yes. Walking is good in the late stages of pregnancy. It helps the babe get in the proper position."

Ser Caspian escorted her outside and walked alongside her in the garden, slowing his pace to match hers. She wasn’t as large as she had been with the twins, but the extra weight on her back still made her walk more slowly. When she stumbled over a crack in the pathway, Ser Caspian offered his arm, and she accepted.

They walked in silence until they reached the godswood and with some difficulty, Aurelia knelt, sending a prayer to Eileithyia, Hera and Artemis for a safe delivery. Her time was fast approaching and despite having gone through it four times already, the fear of childbirth was something that never went away.

With Ser Caspian’s help, she rose to her feet and stroked her stomach absentmindedly in an attempt to soothe the babe as he moved and turned in her womb. Ser Caspian kept glancing over at her, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

"Do you have younger siblings?" She asked. 

He opened his mouth but did not respond, perhaps confused where such a question came from.

Aurelia continued. "I ask because I wonder if you ever saw your mother pregnant, or played with younger siblings."

He does not respond for a few more beats, and Aurelia nervously continues.

"Of course you do not need to answer, I just wanted — we do spend much time together, and I wondered if I might not learn more about you."

He blushed, and Aurelia felt emboldened. "I know so little about my sworn protector, after all."

He finally responded. "My sister, Elinda, is only a year younger than me and after having a daughter following three sons, my parents considered their marital bed successful."

Aurelia looked up at him, nodding for him to continue. "With two older brothers and many cousins, I was always around boys growing up. When I heard Prince Daemon was tasked with the City Watch, I decided to join since I wouldn’t inherit anything. And now I am here."

Aurelia laughed, "Yes, now you are here, protecting a pregnant mother, watching over her as she cares for the children and waits for her husband to return from war. I suppose this is not the position you dreamed you’d end up in when you were young."

"No, Your Highness. But this is the most honorable position."

"Of course," Aurelia agreed.

"And the position I have been happiest in," Ser Caspian continued.

Aurelia could not help but laugh. "Thank you, Ser Caspian, but you need not lie."

Ser Caspian stopped walking and turned to her. "I do not lie, truly. This is not what I expected, but protecting the royal family is an honorable position for anyone, even more for myself as the third son of a younger house."

"Of cour—" Aurelia hissed as a small, unexpected burst of pain struck her back. Her body tensed and she started breathing shallowly as her knees buckled under her. 

"Your Highness!" Caspian gasped as he held onto her arms. "Is it the child?"

"Yes," she gasped. "My pains just started."

"What do I do? Should I carry you?" Ser Caspian was frantic, and he moved one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees, ready to sweep her up.

"No, no Ser Caspian, that is not necessary," she huffed and batted his arms away. "Just – take my arm again and escort me to my rooms. This will take several more hours, if not days."

The two walked back as quickly as Aurelia’s body would allow, with pains coming and going without any particular timing. When they arrived at Aurelia’s rooms, she sent him to fetch her ladies and the midwives, as well as alert the Maester so he could send the necessary ravens.

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Bloodstone, The Stepstones, The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

The main reason the Crabfeeder wasn’t already dead was because he continuously fled into the caves like a coward. While the infamous Myrish prince admiral knew by now that Aunt Viserra had convinced the Manderlys and the North to aid them, he would only know a rough estimate about how many soldiers had sailed. And more importantly, he didn’t know how the North fought – or more specifically, how the mountain clans fought.

Both Caraxes and Seasmoke ensured that the pirates and thieves had a habit of looking up – it meant they were too busy looking at the skies to look up at the mountain. They had archers intent on keeping the dragons busy protecting their riders and the Velaryons away from the caves. And while House Velaryon didn’t know how to fight on mountain terrain, that wasn’t the case for House Flint and the other mountain clans.

They each took turns on lookout with no torches allowed at sundown – they only stood a chance if their eyes were as used to the dark as their attackers. There had been no night ambushes since the arrival of the northern forces, as the Crabfeeder was probably waiting for them to grow tired and comfortable.

What he didn’t understand was that Laenor was always tired and he was never comfortable since they’d arrived at this godforsaken islands. So, when Laenor caught sight of the pirates and thieves landing, he couldn’t bite back her smirk. (Mayhaps Daemon was rubbing off on him too much.) He brought his hands up to his mouth and whistled in the agreed tune. When an answering call came back, he waited patiently to see the last reaver wade onto shore.

After the last one finally did, Laenor made another call signaling it was time to begin the pincer movement. Before the North had arrived, they had always kept the dragons on different islands, and they relied on that now. Caraxes and Daemon waited on the mountain overhead with Seasmoke standing watch, ready to grasp him in his claws and protect several Northern houses on the other island. 

A single torch lit in the center of their camp. Laenor nodded in greeting to the Manderly heir when he arrived with the Mormonts and his own men. With them there to watch his back, she turned around and see if House Wull saw the signal – the same signal that told Seasmoke it was time to start flying. He grit his teeth at the feeling of weightlessness as he fell to the saddle and made quick work of securing his chains as Seasmoke dived.

Fire lit up the pirate ship waiting on the ocean, echoed by a rumbling explosion. Almost immediately, he heard someone shout what sounded like orders of retreat in some Essosi language, but it was already too late for them.

Seasmoke lit up their row boats behind them, and Caraxes burned the exits into the caves on their own island. From there, he knew that House Norrey descended on the archers on the mountain even though he couldn’t see them.

It seemed that the mercenaries would rather drown than die by sword. Daemon was right. They were cowards, and that meant he got to have more fun than his uncles and cousins as they approached the caves.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Queen Rhaenys’ Chambers (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

At the end, it seemed that it didn’t matter that she remembered having five children when the labor progressed. It was slow and painful and all she wanted was for it to be over so she could hold a newborn in her arms.

Keira was periodically checking between her legs and had her up every hour to walk across the rooms and try to move the baby long, all the while telling her to give the child time.

"Babies take as long as they want!" Her friend said cheerfully enough that Aurelia looked around to see if there was anything she could throw at her head. Sadly, she found nothing.

"Can I sleep then?"

Keira nodded and Aurelia lay back and prepared herself for some hours of sleep.

Chapter Text

Crakehall Castle (House Crakehall’s ancestral seat), The Westerlands, August 112 AC

Dainty hands combed through the tangles in Jade’s hair. She sat quietly on the cushioned stool in front of her vanity while Bethany worked through her curls, mouth pinched in concentration.

Her friends lounged on the warm furs laid before the fireplace. Rowena lay on her stomach in the centre, fiddling with a teal pillowcase she’d been trying to embroider for over a week, while Imogen rested beside her, propped up on one elbow. Marianne was the only one sitting upright, a thick tome open in her lap.

”I don’t know what it is about the woman”, Rowena muttered, “but she makes my skin crawl. Every time I look at her, she’s already looking at me. And she has this look she gets whenever I mess something up that just grates on me.”

”Of course she stares at you”, Imogen replied. ”You’re probably the only person she sees all day. The work of a seamstress is lonely.”

The needle slipped in Rowena’s hand and she hissed.

Imogen looked unimpressed, her gentle features drawn in a frown. ”Well, think of all the useful skills you’re learning. Odd as she may be, surely she can teach you a thing or two.”

Marianne spoke without looking up. ”Besides, embroidery requires patience. Not your strong suit.”

Bethany laid down the comb with a smile. ”All done.”

Jade allowed herself a brief glance in the mirror.

She looked the same as always. A mirror of her mother, Father had once said. Her eyes were still puffy from crying, and reddened around the edges.

”Thank you."

She made her way to the girls. Rowena grinned as she sat, Jade’s white nightgown pooling around her. When her gaze drifted to the embroidery in Rowena’s lap, her lips twitched upward.

”A mermaid?”

The image had been stitched in a deep bronze threat. The end of her long tail remained unfinished, but the image was clear.

”This is beautiful. But… you said you were going to give this to one of your betrothed’s siblings. Are you sure they wouldn’t prefer the Tully sigil?”

”Please. As if they haven’t seen enough trouts to last a lifetime”, Rowena scoffed.

Rowena had been betrothed to Elmo Tully when she turned four and ten and the wedding was quickly approaching. She kept up a correspondence with him and his siblings, particularly his brother Benfrey and his sister Amabel.

”Besides, mermaids are much prettier than fish”, Rowena added.

Imogen sighed. ”Better than a horn with fruits spilling out. I’ve never liked my mother’s sigil.”

”I wouldn’t have minded growing up in the Reach”, Rowena said as she returned to the embroidery. ”It seems exciting — more tourneys and festivities. Not that the Vale was boring, but the Eyrie is small and isolated, so it wasn’t as interesting.”

Imogen rested her head on the furs. ”I wonder what it would be like to live in the North.”

”Frigid, I imagine”, Marianne said, causing the others to chuckle.

Bethany looked up from her book. ”We might get to see Lannisport once Jade marries Lord Serrett.”

Jade tensed. She had shown them the lord’s letters, and they’d spent many nights giggling at his flowery expressions.

”Is he a poet or a lord?” Rowena had snorted, and they’d collapsed in laughter.

”Oh, how grand that would be”, Imogen said, her eyes lighting up. ”Think about all those people. And the riches…”

”Always the riches with you”, Rowena said, rolling her eyes.

Imogen lifted her chin. ”Well, maybe I’ll find a western lord if I try hard enough.”

”Any man would be honored to marry you”, Marianne said gently.

Rowena nodded. ”Truer words have never been spoken. Although, judging from the way Ser Harwin looks at you, I wouldn’t be surprised if we started hearing the wedding bells before the tour ended.”

Even sweet Bethany couldn’t contain her laughter at how red Marianne’s face was.

No one who knew Harwin well could deny he was utterly enamored with Marianne. Jade couldn’t blame him. She still remembered the day she first met her, when she’d gone to the capital to serve as a handmaiden to the Princess. Jade had thought her the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen, save for the Targaryens themselves.

”Not this again”, Marianne whined, rising to sit.

Rowena’s laughter echoed across the room. ”Don’t deny it. I’m surprised Lord Strong hasn’t drawn up a contract yet.”

”Maybe Ser Harwin is waiting for the princess’ betrothal to be confirmed”, Imogen said.

Jade sighed. ”I don’t know if the princess will actually use the tour to find a husband,” she whispered. “I think she’s using the tour more as a way to gather support for her claim, while pacifying the king.”

”But the king was clear of his intentions for this tour”, Bethany said. “She’s supposed to return with a choice made for her husband.”

“At least King Viserys isn’t like Prince Daemon,” Rowena murmured. “He’ll be angry but within a few days, the Princess will be the light of his eye again.”

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Queen Rhaenys’ Chambers (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

"Aurelia," Emilee murmurs, dabbing her forehead with a cloth.

They held her out of bed, let her lean on the bedpost as Giselle pulls her hair back into a simple braid. Aurelia is momentarily soothed by the motion, but all she can think of, all she can feel is fear. She is almost stunned by it, trembling precariously against the bedpost. Liane, sensing it, soothes her by rubbing her arms, mistaking her terror for pain.

If he dies, she thinks, closing her eyes. If this child dies, my heart will break and I’ll never fix my relationship with Daemon.

But it’s more than that.

Aurelia loves this babe. She wants the girls to have a brother or sister. She must do this for them, for herself. Aurelia cannot afford to be afraid.

"I am a daughter of the House of Black," she whispers in French. "I am a Princess of Dorne. I am a mother. A wife. A daughter. A sister. I must not be afraid. I am not afraid. Do this for Baela and Alyssa," she gasps out, a wave of pain washing over her.

Baela. Alyssa.

Aurelia pictures her daughters’ face, so beautiful and innocent. She thinks of Liane then as well, her dear friend who she has loved and been jealous of and tried to protect. She thinks of so many others –Marianne, Rhaenyra, Viserra, Danae, Edrick—

She remembers him from a few days prior, smiling.

Everything will be alright, Aurelia, he had told her. She clings onto the sound of his voice, his words, the memory. All of it. She can do this for her girls, for her daughters. She will. Aurelia is a survivor, and the gods would not have given her this child, this blessing, if she were not meant to have it.

She exhales, clutches onto the bedpost with newfound determination. One of her hands slips away, reaches to hold onto Liane’s. Her friend stares at her warmly.

"You are so strong," Liane tells her, allowing Aurelia to hold onto her hand as tightly as she needs to without even bating an eyelash. "The pain will pass, Aurelia. It will."

Aurelia watches as with one hand; Liane prepares the birthing ropes for her to tug onto when her pain is greatest. Johanna brings a big bowl of water into the room, along with an abundance of cloth. She flashes Aurelia a smile as well.

"My girls," she says. "You must tell them I am alright, that I love them—"

"I will, Aurelia," Johanna shushes, guiding her to a chair. Aurelia falls upon it gratefully, stretches out her leg before the pain returns.

"You must," Aurelia continues. "They know you, they will not be frightened. You must go and tell them, before it is too late. You must, Johanna."

Her cousin appears to be momentarily conflicted, but ultimately nods.

"Wait!" Aurelia calls out. She had almost forgotten the letter she had written for each of them, telling them of how much she loved them if the worst happened. She points to one of the drawers nearby her wardrobe. "There is a letter for each of them, there. Please give it to them when they’re older."

Johanna looks stricken, but Emilee moves and finds it quickly and hurries Johanna out of the room with her.

Liane returns to her side with a cup of water, draws it up close to her lips. Aurelia gratefully gulps it down, leans her head back as Liane dabs at her forehead again with a cloth. She’s gentle with her, almost as if Aurelia were a child. Right now, Aurelia does not mind.

Keira flies back into the room quickly afterwards, ordering the rest of her ladies about in a manner which, if it had been at any other time, would have impressed Aurelia. But Aurelia can think only of her daughters, who Emilee and Johanna left to quickly comfort, and she can barely comprehend the pain for she is so overcome with worry, with a need to know—

Aurelia almost cries out when Emilee returns, cheeks flush with hurry.

"They’re alright, Aurelia," Emilee tells her, crouching by her side. "The sounds don’t carry as much as we thought, but Johanna will stay with them."

Aurelia very nearly cries – is cut off by a sudden pain that wracks her entire body.

"Good," she grits off, biting off a moan. "That is good."

The pain is everywhere, almost unending, and she scarcely hears it when Giselle announces that Princess Rhaenys is on her way. Aurelia wonders briefly at that and tries to shove away her newfound fear at the sound of her husband’s cousin coming.

But she cannot think of that now. She cannot. There is so much—so much discomfort and hurt and—

"Ahh," she cries out, just as the door to her bedchamber’s slams shut, hiding her from view.

"I must examine you," Keira states, placing a hand on Aurelia’s stomach. Aurelia manages to spread open her legs, feels no shame when the woman kneels back a bit, looks between her thighs.

"We still have a long way," she says grimly. "Do whatever makes you feel most comfortable for now."

Aurelia nods hastily and—

Time passes by strangely. She cannot tell anymore whether it is night or day, morning or evening. She cannot even tell if Princess Rhaenys has arrived outside her room to listen, to await the birth of her cousin’s child.

Aurelia paces and sits and stands and squats, but the pain does not abate. Each time, the pain surprises her anew with its passion and ferocity. 

Aurelia muffles a groan against her hands as the agony worsens and Keira dives down between her legs again, lets out an approving sound.

"The time is near," she says, helping Aurelia out of her chair. Emilee and Liane flank her.

Liane wraps the rope handles around her wrists, massages the muscles on her back as Aurelia gasps, bends over as her vision starts to blink.

"Push, Aurelia," Keira commands, kneeling beside her. "You must push."

The pool of blood and at her thighs grew larger and larger until it stained the blankets on top of her. 

And Aurelia — 

Aurelia saw black.

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

King Viserys’ apartments, Maegor’s Holdfast, The Red Keep, King’s Landing, August 112 AC

Alicent sat on her husband’s antechambers, watching as Aegon and Danae played with their father. 

Her husband sat in a cushioned chair and threw a ball at Aegon, laughing as their son tried to catch it and then returned it to him, waiting for him to toss the ball again. The entire time Alicent’s son was in a fit of giggles.

Danae, however, was sitting next to her maternal aunt, the Lady Amanda, who was watching as she doodled. 

They were barely two years apart, yet she was still sometimes amazed at how different they were. Danae was a perfect little lady who had a perfect curtsy and was already learning how to sew. In comparison, Aegon acted like a child — only concerned about playing and people paying attention to him. 

Viserys threw the ball again and Danae jumped to catch it though it slipped from her hand and rolled over and touching Alicent’s feet. She looked at it before picking it up. "Ali, ball?"

Her stepdaughter looked at her with a smile, bright lavender eyes so like her sister’s, hands stretched towards her.

"Yes, here," Alicent said returning her the ball.

The girl smiled as she skipped to her father’s side. A knock on the door however, stopped their play and Grand Maester Mellos entered the rooms.

"Your Grace, word from Dragonstone just came."

The smile was immediately gone from her husband’s face and he stretched his hand telling the Maester to give him the letter.

Breaking the seal used by Aurelia, a golden long-necked dragon, he unfolded the parchment and grew paler as he read.

"Is everything well, husband?" 

But Viserys didn’t answer. With a sudden gasp he let go of the letter, his hands clinging to his heart as he struggled to breathe.

Lady Amanda let out a shriek and called for the servants.

Alicent stood and waddled over to Viserys who was as pale as a ghost, eyes wide and terrified.

Grand Maester Mellos instructed Amanda to help her put the king in the bed. With some effort, they did and the Maester then told them to watch over him as he ran to fetch a calming draught.

Alicent went and sat next to her husband, coaching him through some calming breaths as Grand Maester Mellos returned with a flask followed closely by her father.

Her father moved quickly to the King’s side, who had calmed down after being given the Maester’s potion, breathing again. When asked what news the letter brought however, he struggled to speak.

"Aurelia, Daemon’s wife…" his eyes filled with tears as he spoke. "My brother’s child…"

Unable to speak anymore, it fell on the Lord Hand to uncover what the cause to the King’s distress was. He took the parchment and read it quickly before turning to them all with the news.

"Princess Aurelia took the birthing bed nearly four days ago, but the babe has not been born. The missive says the maester is worried for her and the child’s life."

Alicent covered her mouth letting out a gasp.

"Who sent the letter?" Her father asked. "Was it her midwife or Maester Gerardys? He is the Maester at Dragonstone!"

Her father searched the letter.

"It is not signed by either. I don’t think I recognize the handwriting."

"What importance does that have for anything, Otto?!" Her husband suddenly demanded. "My brother’s wife is fighting for her life in the childbed! What does it matter who sent the letter?"

"Viserys, stop! You should stay in bed!" 

"Stay in bed?! You want me to stay in bed while my brother may be left widowed at any point now? When my nieces might be motherless already, with their father miles away fighting a senseless war? The Seven take this bed, Alicent! Otto!" He half-called, half-yelled. "Have my daughter and a ship prepared. We leave today for Dragonstone! Go now!"

Chapter Text

Queen Rhaenys’ Chambers (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, August 112 AC

Aurelia moved in the bed, turning to lay on her back as she felt someone's gaze upon her. Drunk with sleep and pain alike, she had not heard the door open or close, still exhausted after giving birth just a few hours ago. The labor had been long, with four days going by before her waters broke and even then, it took another day before her pains came close enough together for her to push. After five days of intermittent sleep, she was more than ready to have a night of rest and so she barely opened her eyes, reasoning that it was probably one of the maids, either to check on her or on Orion, or to wake her so she could eat something.

But it was not a maid coming to check on them or to disturb her rest. It was the king, standing before her bed. Aurelia forced herself into a sitting position, cheeks flushed and her heart racing.

"Your Grace!" She gasped, tugging her sheets up to her chin. Aurelia was still in her nightgown, her hair brushed under a cap, not at all presentable or decent. "What an honor."

Viserys smiled gently. "When news came to King’s Landing of your difficulties in the birthing bed, I had to come."

Aurelia nodded. "Forgive me," she said. "If I could, I'd curtsy, I swear."

"Don't worry about it," he waved it off. "You must recover your strengths, Aurelia. Childbirth is no joke."

She nodded and still felt the need to straighten up in the bed, laying against the multiple pillows. Aurelia was exhausted, all her strength taken from her.

"I visited the nursery on my way here," her brother-in-law said, stepping closer to the bed. "Danae was delighted to see her cousins. I do think they’ve grown since we last saw them."

"Danae?" Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat. "She came as well?"

The king looked sheepish. "The missive had us worried, I wasn’t sure if you would survive and I thought Danae deserved a chance to say goodbye."

"I assure you, whatever was on that missive was an exaggeration," Aurelia answered. "The labor was long and tiring, but I was not in any more danger than any other mother during childbirth."

"Be that as it may," Viserys said, "I have already seen an improvement in Danae’s mood since our boat reached the shore. I was thinking of allowing her to remain here — until you decide to return to court, that is."

Aurelia smiled. "I would be delighted to have her with me and my children, Sire."

"I know," said Viserys, his face softening. "I also believe that it may be better for her if I allow her to move into the Refuge with you and your children once you return."

Aurelia nodded.

"And, I will issue official documents giving that part of the Keep officially to you and Daemon," he murmured. "I intend for its use to be reserved for you and your family. Daemon and I spent a large part of our childhood there and I can only imagine he will want the same for his own children."

"Thank you," she murmured, eyes fighting to stay open.

Viserys' purple eyes moved across her face for another moment. He stepped back.

"Rest," he said. "You will need your strength."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Jonquil’s Pools, Maidenpool, The Riverlands, August 112 AC

The bathhouse is blessedly empty when they enter and so Rhaenyra feels no shame in disrobing, standing naked before her ladies. 

"Bethany," she says as the others remove their clothing, "Will you sing us something? You have such a lovely voice."

Bethany is kneeling before her discarded robe, folding it neatly, and she raises her pale head. "What would my Princess like to hear?"

"Seasons of my love," Rhaenyra says and the girl nods, starting to sing.

Rhaenyra steps forward, hands on her hips, and watches as Rowena enters the pool, sighing contentedly.

"Oh, cousin, it is so warm!" she says, dipping under to wet her entire hair. "You’ll love it!"

The waters of Jonquil’s Pool are indeed as miraculous as they say.

The cousins, granddaughters of Rodrik Arryn, with the entire pool for themselves, lazily float around in the warm water. Whatever curative power is attributed to the place is clearly working, as they feel their bodies relax.

Both can feel their muscles and feet relax and loose the aches. 

The three girls laugh, the granddaughters of Rodrik Arryn swimming around and splashing each other as Bethany sings, but soon their fun is set to end.

A septa enters the chamber where the pool is situated — rather unexpectedly, for Marianne had instructed them to remain outside for the duration of the Princess’ bath and for only her personal maids to enter. She took her duties as the Princess’ temporary lady-in-waiting seriously and wanted no repeat of the attack against Queen Alysanne.

The old woman bows, her seven-pointed wooden necklace dangling in the air. "My apologies, Princess, but I’m here to inform you that Lady Mooton and Lady Elena — Lady Mooton’s mother," she adds, as if Rhaenyra would be so rude as to forget the woman’s name, "Are preparing for their own soak in the pool."

Rhaenyra has to resist the urge to snarl at the woman. So much for enjoying peace and quiet. "I believe I was promised solitude, was I not? And now you go back on your word," she snarks, clicking her tongue.

The septa fidgets with her hands.. "I-I know, Your Highness, and I deeply, deeply apologize for the inconvenience. But the Lady Elena has expressed her desire to soothe her aging bones in the pool and the Lady Cara has recently given birth and oft comes here to relieve herself of the last of her aches and I supposed —" 

At Rhaenyra’s nod, Bethany interrupts the blabbering woman. "Very well. Let them in, but let it be the last time something like this happens. It is by the Princess’ graciousness that we’ll allow her specific orders to be surpassed by the desires of women who have every day in their lives to come here and yet choose today."

Her eyes are steely and her voice cutting, so much so that the septa doesn’t even hesitate to hastily retreat to wherever she’s come from, barely bidding the nobles the necessary courtesies.

Rowena traipses the water to lay a calming hand on the incensed Princess’ shoulder. Their eyes meet and Rhaenyra sighs, "It seems we are bound to be disturbed."

"Let us hope that they’ll leave us to our own devices, cousin.” 

Once the two women enter the pool — Lady Elena with more purpose than her daughter — they immediately accost the two girls.

The old Lady leads the discussion and does not waste any time with her questioning. "My grandson was enchanted by your beauty, Your Highness. I’m sure he was a most entertaining companion to spend the day with."

"He certainly provided some entertainment, my lady, and I am grateful for his gifts. A most thoughtful gesture, truly. However, I believe he truly was captivated by one of my ladies. Of course, we must still travel and continue the tour, but I hope they’ll remain in touch. I have to find my prince consort, but I wouldn’t wish to deprive my ladies of the opportunity to make their matches as well,” Rhaenyra does not want to discuss this whilst naked in a pool, with the elderly grandmother of the man aspiring to be her consort, but here she is. The Gods must delight in making her feel uncomfortable.

"I am sure you and your ladies will encounter many worthy men during your tour, Princess" Lady Cara interjects, taking the attention away from her mother’s mildly souring face. "Your next stop is the Vale, correct?"

"Yes, and I’ll brave the North after that."

"None would fault you for interrupting your tour early if you find the right consort, Your Highness,” Lady Elena laughs. "No need for a girl to stay so far away from home."

Rhaenyra’s smile turns sharp. "No one would fault me either way, my lady, for I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I am no mere girl. I shall one day have to rule the Seven Kingdoms and the least I can do is tour them properly."

"A good ruler takes into account every possibility before making a definite choice" Rowena adds. “For how else are they meant to make just decisions if they are without all the facts?"

Whilst Lady Cara is clearly uncomfortable with her mother’s actions and her words, it’s not enough to stop the old woman from speaking. "But surely, you would not want to squander your most fertile years gallivanting around the land. Whilst the Crown is secure — Gods bless Queen Alicent and Princess Aurelia — there can never be too many children around. A good wife must provide many heirs, as the Good Queen Alysanne once did."

Lady Cara hides her face in her hands, her damp lock floating around her shoulders. Rhaenyra and Rowena, on the other hand, would not be surprised to see the water around them boil with the hotness of their anger.

"You dare lecture a future Queen on her role?" Bethany says, voice as sharp as steel from where she’s standing, now at the edge of the water.

The old woman seems to finally realize her mistake. She’s a helpless sheep cornered. "I merely meant to offer my advice as a fellow lady and as a mother…"

"But I am not a lady,” Rhaenyra spits out, "I am the Crown Princess. I have responsibilities weighting on my neck that you’d never even imagine. I have power and choices you’ll never have in your entire life and I intend to use them for the betterment of the Kingdom once I become Queen. For that is what I’ll be, Lady Elena, not a mere broodmare for some Lord to keep and coddle."

━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━

Dragonstone, (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, September 112 AC

“This is the warming chamber," Aurelia said excitedly, pulling open a door. “It’s heated naturally by the Dragonmont. Rhaenyra said the entire castle is, actually. If you venture down to the dungeons, the walls are quite warm to the touch." 

A wave of heat washed over Edrick as he peered in, eyeing the several shallow, empty iron cauldrons meant for containing dragon’s eggs. 

“The king had all of the eggs moved to the Dragonpit for safekeeping once he ascended the throne, much easier to keep an eye on them in King’s Landing. For the most part," he said with a frown, recalling that Daemon had taken one for himself from the warming chambers below the Dragonpit. 

“I’ve never seen a dragon’s nest, how they lay the eggs," he said then, and Aurelia brightened. 

“Have you not? I’ve seen a few of Dreamfyre’s when she laid them. To call it a nest is not truly accurate, though I do not know how else to describe it. It sort of resembles a pile of ashes and embers, with the egg contained underneath. You have to crack open the top to extract the egg. Silverwing probably has a clutch, I’m sure the Dragonkeepers would be happy to show you,” she said sincerely. 

“I would like that," he replied, a soft grin on his features. Aurelia smiled in return, ducking her chin slightly as she brushed past him. He followed behind her, entranced by the way her hair rippled with each step she took, loose waves bouncing with her movements. 

“And this is the Painted Table." Edrick snapped out of his trance, returning to the tour he was supposed to be paying attention to instead of lusting after the princess. He approached the table excitedly, running his fingers over the carved wood, in awe of its magnificence. 

“This is truly remarkable," he said in a hushed tone. “Hearing about it is certainly not the same as seeing it for yourself." 

“Yes, it’s quite something to behold,” she murmured. “I was in shock the first time I saw it.”

“To think that King Aegon stood at this very table and planned his conquest…" Edrick trailed off. 

“I know how you like your histories," Aurelia said with a teasing smile. 

“I won’t start, then. I’m sure I could ramble on for ages." 

“I wouldn’t mind. Hopefully at some point in the rambling you can teach me something I don’t know." Aurelia’s fingers drifted over the mountains and rivers on the table and Edrick’s eyes were trained on the delicate movements of her fingers, recalling how they felt pressed against his palm. “I’m sure there are some stories I haven’t heard.”

“I doubt I could, not with how you have gone through half the library already. You are well-studied on such things." Edrick’s fingers drifted over his home: White Harbor. He had not been back in many years since he had been sent to the Reach when he was a boy. His hand trailed through the table, to the field where thousands had burned.

“I wonder what it looked like, while Aegon and Visenya burned it," Aurelia said, eyeing the same spot on the map. 

“Probably a whole lot of red and orange, with the smell of melting flesh and charred steel,” he muttered.

Aurelia laughed loudly at that, throwing her head back, and it was a beautiful sound. The corners of her eyes crinkled and Edrick could not help the easy smile that tugged at his lips as he took in her joy. Edrick was a grown man, not a blushing virgin, but there he stood wistfully daydreaming of how her lips might feel against his, how simple things might have been if he had been given a chance to woo her. The usual bustle of the court was gone, no one watching his every move or the princess. A weight was lifted from Aurelia’s shoulders, noticeable after weeks of discomfort in the Red Keep and now that she was free of the toll of pregnancy. He had thought Dragonstone a dull, lifeless rock amidst stormy seas, but she was making the place her own, lighting it up with her carefree laughter.

“Come," she said, her eyes still soft as she held his gaze. “There is much more to see." Edrick would have gladly accompanied her for hours on any tour just to be in her presence, listening to her anecdotes and making her laugh at every opportunity. They spent close to an hour walking through the rest of the castle before she led him outside, toward the smoking cliffs of the Dragonmont. 

The sky had turned overcast during the course of the day and Edrick was glad he had not removed his cloak, though he noticed Aurelia had and was shivering a concerning amount. She was still chatting, gesturing about and saying something about Old Valyria; Edrick was not entirely sure as his attention was focused on whether he should offer her his cloak or just remove it and put it on her. 

“It suits you, Dragonstone," Edrick murmured. Aurelia’s brow furrowed. 

“This dreary rock?" she asked with a furrowed brow. Edrick shook his head. 

“I only meant you seem at home here."

Overcome by his protective instincts and disliking the chattering noise her teeth were beginning to make, Edrick tugged off his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. She went extremely still, staring up at him in silence with her lips parted. 

“I’m sorry," he said, dropping his hands to his sides, though he did not step away from her. “You seemed cold." 

“I- yes, thank you," she murmured, grasping the ties of the cloak and fastening it tightly around her. It was yet another moment shared between the two of them where Edrick was almost entirely sure he could not be imagining the tension, the pull that was urging him to cup her jaw in his palm and tilt her face up for a kiss.

Were it any other woman in the realm, things would not be so difficult and confusing. If he wanted, he could steal a kiss or two with an unwed lady he was courting, or dally with merchants' daughters and lowborn girls without hesitation. But of course he had to be transfixed by one of the only women in the realm he could not have. Which was why he could not be entirely certain that he was not imagining the tension, for there had always been something there for him before their friendship truly began. In her presence, he seemed to lose all rational thought. 

“There are um- caves," she continued, tearing her gaze away from him. “And tunnels. Underneath the Dragonmont. Vermithor remains in one of the main caverns, and Silverwing nests in one of the deeper pockets. We can explore one day, but I would be wary of approaching Vermithor, I do not think he is used to company other than the dragonkeepers anymore. Silverwing, however, might be a bit friendlier, if you can find her. But we must make sure Quicksilver is not with her clucthmates that day. The Dragonkeepers told me she’s often in a mood.” 

“Right, avoid the large, impossible to miss bronze dragon and his irascible silver sister. Got it," Edrick said with a chuckle. Aurelia gave him a soft smile. 

“So," she said expectantly. “What do you think?" 

“I like it. It’s nice being away, and though the weather could be better, I suppose, it’s refreshing." 

As if on cue, the overcast sky opened up and chilled rain began to pour from the clouds. Edrick immediately turned back toward the castle, but only made it a few steps before realizing Aurelia was not following him. She was standing with her arms held out, face turned up toward the sky, allowing the rain to drench her. The cloak was billowing, whipping back and forth in the forceful winds. Her smile was peaceful, her expression content as she turned her head to him, squinting at him through the pelting rain. 

“We should go back inside. You will catch a cold," he insisted, concerned for her well-being. He’d taken two weeks to go to the Reach and check on his lands, only to return to her bed-bound after delivering Orion. He had no wish to see her pale and confined to a bed again. 

She nodded and turned, running ahead of him and laughing as they raced back to the castle. They wound through the halls, sprinting up the steps to their respective chambers. She skidded to a halt in front of her door, turning to look at him with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. 

“I won," she said with a wide smile. Edrick pretended to be affronted. 

“I did not realize it was a race," he said with a scoff. “I assure you I would best you if I had known the objective." 

“You wouldn’t dare," she shrieked. 

“Oh, I’m very competitive," he assured her. 

“A rematch then," she said conspiratorially. Edrick nodded his assent. 

“Name the day and the place and I’ll be there." 

She nodded in return, holding his gaze. 

“Before I forget," she muttered, reaching for the ties of his cloak. Yet again, Edrick was struck by one of his bouts of impropriety and he reached for her unwittingly, untying the knots she had fastened and slipping the cloak from her shoulders. He was far too close to her, towering over her as she looked up at him. He could not read her expression, but she did not step away. 

Edrick dropped his gaze to her lips, imagining for just one moment that he could tilt his head down, close the distance between them, and show her all of the devotion and desire he had been keeping at bay for so long. 

She took a very small, almost imperceptible step closer to him, her chin tilting up ever so slightly. His heart was racing frantically. This, he could not be imagining. When his gaze returned to her eyes, she was not looking at him, but at his lips, and he wanted her to ask him to kiss her more than anything in the world. He would have worked up the courage to lean in and close the distance eventually were it not for the sudden sound of shifting metal coming in their direction.

He stepped away from her, putting a respectable amount of distance between them as Ser Caspian rounded the corner. 

Chapter Text

The nursery, Dragonstone, (House Targaryen’s ancestral seat), The Narrow Sea, September 112 AC