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Chapter Text

one

jacaerys

"Wha-" Jacaerys Velaryon frowned, words half escaping his mouth before it was tucked in again.

He breathed, scouring through his head to find a right question.

"Who is this?"

In front of him, on a bed in one of the guest rooms of Dragonstone, a body of an individual lay unconscious, a maester on the side moving his hand to check the pulse continuously.

A man. With silver hair, long and damp, pale skin, and fine structure. His bare chest, dotted with bruises and cuts, barely invisibly heaved up and down.

He had no need to lift those pale lids to know that the orbs under were violet.

A blood of Old Valyria.

"We found him on the shore, My Prince." The guard informed.

"He was already unconscious."

Jace drifted his gaze up and down the man.

Who is he?

Why is he here?

His blood ran colder at the next thought,

What sent him here?

He found it absurd that he had it in him to question this wounded man who, he could say firmly, is at the mercy of his family.

But the situation is not good, at all, between the Blacks and the Greens.

Family they are, born of the same blood, rides the same beasts, runs the same corridors, shares the same lessons and meals, laughs the same laugh, even. Yet the conflicts of the elders had driven a rift between them, dividing them in two.

Jace wished they could go back in time, to the children they were.

Maybe, this is one of Otto Hightower's swift act, sending an assassin to annihilate his mother and her blood, disguised as a weak stranded stranger, to made his grandson the rightful heir.

But, why does this secret agent have to had Valyrian features?

As he tried to think of an answer, his brown eyes drifted to an unfamiliar object, placed on the table on the other side of the bed.

He paced, reaching it quickly and picked it up.

"This is-?"

"It is on his neck when we found him." The guard explained.

"His clothes were muddy, but this one looked well kept."

Jace observed the necklace in his fingers. The straps of it were made of some kind of thin leather, weaving together to form a rope. The pendant in the center was a substance of white coloring, hard and strong. A fang of a beast, with cleanly carved crinolines on the base of it. The hole that connects it to the rope looked like it had been carved out of the fang as well.

Likewise, he need not to be a smith to know this is a fine craftsmanship, made by a fine craftsman, for a fine payment.

"Is he going to wake up?" He asked the maester.

The old man glanced up,

"He must fight through this night, My Prince. By morning we will know. I can say nothing for sure until then."

He nodded,

"I entrust his life in your hands then, maester."

His mother walked into a room not long after, dressed in her usual attire of black and red. Her baby bump had started showing, since it's already five moons passed from when his unborn younger sibling was conceived.

She greeted him with a hug and a kiss on his forehead, in which he returned with a nudge into her chest and rubbing her inflated stomach as a gesture to greet his young sibling too.

"Is there anything we know?" Rhaenyra asked, walking beside him to the center.

"I think he might be of noble blood, mother." He implied, handing her the necklace.

"This pendant is too precious for his attire."

Her violet eyes observed it quietly, then turned to him.

"What do you think?"

"We wait." He breathed,

"When he's awake, we would listen to what he had to say."

She touched his shoulder, a small, faint smile tucked at the corners of her lips.

"I will be made known when he wakes up."

"Yes, Princess."

She departed, her black cloak brushing the floor as she patted his back lightly and walked to the door.

His brown eyes lingered at the bed, and then Jace, too, left the stranger to his recovery.

Two moons passed, and now Jace is tracing the path of the sand beneath the stone curves, the sound of waves crashing gets louder and louder as he nears his destination.

Silver hair tucked into a bun catches his eyes, and he makes a long stride towards the stony surface.

"It's time to break our fast," He said, voice trying to overpower the strong sea.

The other turned and looked at him.

"Good morning to you too, Jacaerys." His accent is strange, coated with something ancient that made the mild chills ran down his spine when he heard it for the first time.

Jace looks at him, his pale skin that looks so like a dead man two moonturns ago is now restored into a more healthy hue, though paler than him nonetheless. His bruises fades, so does his cuts, leaving nothing but the faint scars that the maester could not heal completely.

The man that day had regained most of his strength back.

He spoke High Valyrian, in the first moments he had been awake. His mother sat down and ask him questions in which he answered, although difficult to decipher, simple and short.

Aeras Saneiros, he claimed to be, was on a ship, cruising in the Narrow Sea of Pentos when a storm struck.

The next thing he knew, he was at Dragonstone.

He only said he was from the Free Cities, but never specifically pinned the spot. His mother suspected, from his features, that he is from Lys, and from his education, that he is a noble of the city.

At first, they were anxious of the stranger, of how much possibilities he could be sent from the greens.

But as time went by, this odd fellow had proven he had done no harm.

He helped Jace out with the Valyrian lessons, such as how to decipher the words, and how to roll the tongue and pronounce the syllables more clearly.

And, at the younger boy's delight, his Valyrian improved dramatically.

He gets along with Lucerys and Joffrey, too. Sometimes Jace found his youngest dark-haired brother on the silver-haired's lap as he read something to him. And Luke often sits with him beside the corridor to talk about the stars.

Aeras likes to drink, reminding him of his uncle Aegon, but with less temper and more control over himself. Though fueled with wine, Jace often found him in his room, a random rock in one hand, a chisel in another, sipping the drink as he turned a dull thing into a wonder with his very fingers overnight.

He had seen the older one's chamber more than once, and the table beside the open corridor is filled with figurines made of stones.

There's dragons. There's flowers. There's people. There's even functional stuffs like a breech fashioned into a vine of roses, or a pendant of a sun with its rays.

Aeras is like a normal artisan, traveling around the world.

But there is also something unsettling about him.

He had this mysterious but relaxing aura, obviously he had something hiding beneath, but he never looked anxious about it. Instead, he seemed strangely content with everything everyday. He blended in smoothly, almost perfectly.

Jace remembered his mother's one distinct question, asked directly after Aeras had gained his consciousness.

Will you be at my side, if the situation to choose sides is to come?

The stranger, at that time, looked at Rhaenyra with deep eyes. His mouth tucked into an almost invisible smile,

What answer would please you, dear host?

At his mother's tensed up face, he laughed.

Fret not, His tone soft and low, though rasped with the dryness of his throat.

I always pay my debt, if those I have owed are patient enough.

That answer is almost like some cryptic words his aunt Helaena used to throw around, if not a bit more easy to understand.

Rhaenyra was content at that.

His mother leaves Aeras be, and treats him like a guest of her household.

He slept in the guest's quarters, dined with them in their hall, and spent his time with them.

"Come, Aeras." Jace called.

Aeras rose from his spot, perched on the highs of the dark stones, and stepped towards him.

The strands of his silver threads caught in his fine-featured face as they left the shore, heading back towards the castle.

At the table, his stepfather told of the eggs Syrax had laid, Daemon's violet eyes glinting with excitement as his mother smiled at the sight.

Aeras had grinned, toasting in congratulations to them silently.

After they finished, Rhaenyra announced they are to be departed for King's Landing.

Jace had tensed up at the mention of the challenge by Vaemond Velaryon, to prove the legitimacy of his brother Lucerys.

He knows that Ser Laenor is not their father. Everyone knows.

And now they had to face the hard truth.

He thinks of the late Ser Harwin Strong, his wide smile and warm hug and patient advices he shared in their training grounds.

They are returning to the place where he had spent the first ten years of his life, and back into the viper's den, where venoms would try to sneak in and fill their ears.

Jace shudders.

Daemon shifted in his seat, glancing at their guest, no words came out.

Aeras looked back, and nodded with understanding elegantly as he stated he would be staying in Dragonstone.

He had no business in messing with the royals of Westeros.

So they left that late morning, to the capital with their guest behind in their ancestral seat.

Chapter Text

two

jacaerys

"Dragons!" Bellowed the guard that stumbled into the map room.

Rhaenyra turned to face him, her hand rested upon her bump, rubbing it softly. Jace followed her gaze, peering upon the sweated face behind the coverings of the helmet.

"Dragons…" He breathed heavily.

"Coming from the North, Princess. Three of them, unknown dragons."

His brown eyes meet his mother's violet ones.

"How far?" She asked.

"Five miles, at least, Princess."

She left the map, walking towards the guard.

"What of their manners?"

"No gesture of violence," He answered,

"Yet, Princess."

She nodded.

"Go tell the dragonkeepers to prepare the landing."

Then, he heard a harmony of shrieks.

Jace shuddered, thinking of Vermax in his nest.

They have just been back from the family dinner that went horribly wrong last night, and now, three unknown dragons are flying towards them.

Oh how the gods have no intention of letting them indulge some bits of peace.

"Jace," Mother called, snapping him off his frustration.

"Get Daemon here, now."

His feet bolted before his conscience could even catch him.

Before long, he met his stepfather halfway.

Daemon's gaze was intense.

"You felt that too, right?" He asked, voice low and calculating.

He gave a quick nod.

"Three unknown dragons approach the sky, five miles away. Mother would like you to join her at the map room."

They almost leaped down the stairs as they felt a louder shrieks of their dragons, a more stressed shrieks.

Those dragons would have grazed his domain right now, Jace realized.

The closer they got, the more tense his heartbeats were. He knows that this is Vermax, alarming him of the potential harm.

The eldest son of the Princess of Dragonstone clutches his breech, calming the storm inside, and tried to send the most calmness he could conjure up to his dragon on the other side of the Dragonmont as well.

Soon, they reached his mother.

Surprisingly, she's not alone.

Aeras, with his hair tied in a quick, lose bun, was in the room too. He is still in his nightwears, a thin tunic and flowy pants.

The guest's violet eyes shifted to them, but he said nothing.

Jace noticed his face is harder than usual.

A harmony of shrieks filled the air again, this time, it was unusual to his ears.

The ground shakes slightly.

He looked at Daemon, a strong chill flushed down his body.

The unwelcomed beasts had landed.

The silence was sickening.

He heard Aeras' uneven breath, the rustling of his mother's gown, and the movement of Daemon's hands.

Jace had thought, at the snap of the word in the beginning of everything, that it was his uncles and aunt.

He had hoped for Sunfyre, or Dreamfyre, Vhagar, even.

Though on the opposite sides, at least he would know their intentions.

But as he rethink, he founded there was no way it was the greens.

The guards would have known, if it was them.

He felt dizzy, his heart beating in his ears.

Then, after a cold, heavy silent, he heard chaos erupting at the entrance.

There's shouting, there's clashing of blades, there's sound of contacting the stone surfaces.

There's a battle outside.

Jace moved to protect his mother as she rest her hand above her unborn child in a gesture of reassuring, obtaining her posture. He saw Daemon's hand perched atop the hilt of Dark Sister.

The shriek came again, chilling but full of life.

He heard footsteps.

Those of a single individual.

The rest of the sounds had died down.

He clutches onto his mother's arm, pushing her behind as she squeezed his wrist back.

That sound of boot contacting the stone floor echoed, inching closer.

The first thing he notices emerging from the shadows is an armor, white as snow, the morning sunrays catched on the dragonscales along the bodice and shoulders, making the effect of glinting, both warm and cold in the same time. There were shimmers of silver and gold lining in it, mixing with hints of black.

Then, it was the midnight black cloak, trailing behind like that of a dragon's tail, slithering softly through the cold surface of the floor.

Jace heard a shaky breath let out from Aeras' throat, and followed his eyes.

Silver hair was tied into braids, dark amethyst eyes looked at them before shifting to the side.

The person in that armor stared them down, standing still at the top of the stairs down to the room.

A girl. Barely around his age.

Her face a sculpture, ethereal and breathtaking. But her eyes sparked with pride, determination dancing like fire, breathing life into the unthinkable beauty only gods could create.

Her boots moved in, but as she laid eyes on the guest beside him, she froze in the air.

Her lips, full and healthy, parted.

He could see her jaw twitched.

Aeras laughed, his tone with a hint of relaxing delight as he voiced out,

" About damn time. "

It was in Valyrian, thick and coated with glory and elegance of the old times.

Her brows, arched and striking, moved an inch at the sentence.

" Permission to enter. " Her Valyrian, like Aeras, was elegant. He had never felt so enamored at how sometimes the language sounded like music, and she is like a singing goddess.

" You may ."

Her steps swift but steady, she treads down the stairs and walked straight to them.

Jace shifted on his heels, but the girl had no eye on him and his family.

Her chin held high in a sturdy posture, she look at the man with his hair in a bun, and him only.

Her hand reached out, grabbing the hem of Aeras' tunic and pulled them over his wrist, eyes twitching at the faint scars. Then, she yanked his doublet down to peer at his bare chest.

He heard a sigh of relief as her dark violet eyes softens, running her hand up his face and turning them back and forth to see he is not with wound. Aeras was smiling lightly, reassuring her he's fine.

Then, suddenly, her features hardened, and with a movement, shoves her punch into his abdomen, hard.

Aeras let out a yelp of pain, crouching down while clutching his sore spot as the girl clenched her jaw, watching him with somewhat of an emotion Jace realized is amusement in her eyes.

He drawed a raggy breath,

" That was unnecessary. "

She chuckled mockingly, her eyes burning a hole in him.

" Hāedar, " Aeras slowly pulled himself up on his spine, greeting her with a pained grin.

" Tell me, you did not kill those men, no? "

Her eyes flared, glowing like wildfire as she stomped to him and shove him further by his shoulder.

" Is that your primary concern? " She growled.

" Well, I can't have you barging into my hosts' home and kill their guards, can I? "

The girl grimaced, looking at his smugly smile with her teeth bared.

" Muña had a stroke. "

The next sentence froze Aeras in his place.

Jace watched him in silence, as his eyes slowly drifted back to the girl's, clearly processing the information.

" W-What? "

The girl swallowed, her clenching jaws and serious glare confirmed what she had said.

Another figure slipped in, dressed in the same attire as the girl.

A boy. With silver hair in a short braid and rushing violet eyes.

He took a swift look around the room, voicing out to them.

" Lēkia, " He greeted, walking down with a silent nod of acknowledgement to his mother, in which she returned with the same gesture.

The tension of his family had slowly faded as they realized these unwelcomed guests are not here to inflict harm.

Aeras snapped his head to look at the boy.

" Is it true? "

He frowned, making eye contact with the girl.

" Had my Muña collapsed? "

" Well, " The boy slowly stammered,

" It was not a lie she took it badly, upon the news of your ship turning up at the shore in pieces ."

" Two moons, " The girl began, her voice a volcano eruption pushed down with sheer will to not shout.

" Two fucking moons, Lēkia. "

" How is she? "

" You had not even a slightest of conscience to write to us! To tell us all is well! " Her tone grew louder, harder, plunging into a brief argument.

" For the fourteen flames, " Aeras is now grabbing at her shoulder, shaking, begging.

" Tell me she recovered! "

She sneered, licking her lips, before slapping his hands off her only to be grabbing him by the collar instead.

" She was resting when we departed ." She clenched the syllables out.

" She was better, when we left her with the healers ."

As he stared at her, eyes still wide, she dragged him up to her face, to look into her eyes as close as he could.

" And don't you ever dare to put me into fear of losing you, of living without you. Ever. Again. "

Aeras' eyes softens as he steady his feet and put his arms around her, the boy joined as they shared a moment of silence together.

" Sorry. " He heard whispered apologies mumbling between them.

The breaths slowed down, the tension in the room thinning, and finally, the boy patted her back.

" Come, let us not be seen uncivilised by not introducing ourselves to these gracious hosts ."

She slipped off Aeras' embrace, and looked at them, directly this time.

Her amethyst eyes are still burning bright, but the fire of harsh emotions has lowered down by many levels.

" What- "

" Common Tongue. " Aeras answered, as though he already knew the questions.

"Ah," She cleared her throat, moving her lips inaudibly and finally spoke,

"Never thought I would be using this."

In the language of Westeros, her accent was less strange than the man beside her, but still lined with hints of Valyrian.

"Indeed." Aeras chuckled.

"Kēpa would be proud."

She hummed, then shifted her gaze upon his group again. Purple eyes scanned them as though peering inside their minds.

"We apologize for the intrusion, dear hosts." She said.

"We have only wanted to make sure our brother is well as soon as possible."

"No worries, dear guests." His mother paced forward, a smile on her lips.

"Come, let us fetch you a cup of water."

Chapter Text

three

rhaenyra

"Please," Rhaenyra extended her hand to the velvet couch

"Take a seat."

She watched as the girl slipped down gracefully, Aeras moved to the chair by the hearth, and the boy sat down last.

"I am Rhaenyra of house Targaryen, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and the heir to the Iron Throne." She introduces herself, then turn to the other side of the room.

"That is my husband, Prince Daemon Targaryen, and my firstborn son Prince Jacaerys Velaryon."

Her husband and son bowed in acknowledgement, in which the two of the youths in armor returned the same motion.

"I assumed we must name ourselves, then." The girl stated, shifting her cloak into a better position.

"My name is Vaella of house Saneiros, I was born of the same blood as your guest," The girl said, gesturing to her side.

"And this is our cousin, Vorondyr Saneiros."

"We are delighted at your arrival, Lady Vaella, Lord Vorondyr." The princess greeted.

"And we are honored for your reception, Princess." Vaella bowed her head slightly.

She nodded,

"Are you of Valyrian descent, My Lady?"

The girl gave a quick smile as an answer.

"Fortunately, our house was not extinct in the doom, Princess."

Everything seems clearer now to Rhaenyra.

These youths are blood of Old Valyria, descendants of the ancient race, and dragonriders themselves.

"May I have knowledge of the reason you have come here in the first place, My Lady?"

She stole a glance at Vorondyr, and started to explain with a small twitch of her lips.

"Aeras was on a vacation, last we heard from him is that two moons ago he was in Pentos."

"We thought he was taking his time to indulge," Vorondyr takes turn.

"But it normally took a moon to travel back home, even by the slowest of caravans."

"He usually takes his time," Vaella said.

"He was always like that. But this time it was too long."

She fidgeted with her fingers, Rhaenyra could see the fear surfaces in those deep purple eyes.

"A fortnight ago, the news came to us." The girl thinned her lips.

"They found the ship he was supposed to be in, tattered and ashore with it's crew. No one found him, though."

"That's a question I would like to ask for quite a moment now." Aeras speaks up, brows furrowing.

"How did you find me, anyways?"

Vaella blinked, ducking her head down.

"It was Vor's stupidly outraging theory."

"Well," Vorondyr shrugged.

"Everyone expects you dead, lēkia. There's only Vae who didn't give up hope and sparked a thought in my head first."

"We can't have you dead yet." She snapped.

"I hate funerals."

"Right," The eldest of the Saneiroses slowly blinked.

"How again?"

"Simple." The boy chuckled.

"I supposed that if there's a bond between us and our mounts, maybe he could sense you."

Aeras' eyes widened.

"Did you-"

"Mmhmm." Vorondyr grinned.

"He leads like the leader of the pack he is, we just followed."

Vaella narrowed her eyes,

"Have the Narrow Sea washed away your bond already, lēkia? Have you not felt just a bit of his presence in your mind?"

The man shot up at his seat, rushing out of the room.

Vaella lets out a huff.

"This motherfucker didn't even mutter a thanks."

She bowed her head at Rhaenyra, and followed her elder brother outside swiftly. Vorondyr followed, a laugh barely contained in his throat.

The princess then turned to her husband, smiling.

"Shall we go, too?"

Daemon raised his brows.

"Should we?"

"They could be potential ally," Rhaenyra tilted her head.

"We could be in need of them."

He narrowed his eyes, then sighed.

"All right."

Three unfamiliar shrieks welcomed her to the plains behind the castle.

Three dragons.

Stranger than what she had ever seen, but they are dragons, that is for sure.

Their scales are glistening, not giving the effect of hard scales like hers, but that of a chiseled crystal put together. Their eyes glowing like orbs under light.

The strangest thing, yet, is the atmosphere around them.

Soon enough, Rhaenyra was rubbing on her arms, easing the coldness that clings onto her skin.

Daemon moved closer, keeping her warm with his arms around her, his eyes never leave the beasts on display before them.

"It is just a gust of wind." She whispered to him.

"No," Her husband whispered back,

"It was not the wind."

"What kind of dragon is that?" Jace furrowed his brows, his dark brown eyes that reminded her so much of his late father full of curiosity.

"Phrodian!" She heard Aeras yelled, excitement and joy mixed in his voice as he laughed and threw himself at one of the dragon's snout.

A white dragon, with eyes bright red as a ruby.

"You never told me you are a dragonrider!" She heard Jace voiced to him.

Aeras raised a brow, hands still rubbing the snout.

"Well, you didn't ask."

Her son rolled his eyes.

The beast rumbled, nuzzling into him and shoved him aside with a small growl.

"Come on," Aeras sighed.

"I'm sorry, I will not do that again, satisfied?"

"You will not ease him with that sentence." Vaella clicked her tongue.

"He was distressed, when we held your brief funeral. Refused to feed since we left home."

His violet eyes widened, turning to his cousin for assurance.

"True." Vorondyr nodded.

"Vae was inches away from chaining him and shoved in the sheep herself."

"My brief funeral ?"

"It was a long story." His sister shrugged.

"Best you get on and find him something to eat."

Aeras looked further into the ridge of his dragon's back, then raised his brows high.

"You even saddled him, Vor?"

"It was Vae." Vorondyr pouted to the girl.

"She never gives up on riding home with you on Phrodian."

"Oh, that's lovely of you." He went to pull her into a hug and kissed her temple.

"Thank you, sweetling."

Vaella struggled, spitting Valyrian curses Rhaenyra almost laugh upon hearing them, and glared at her brother as she shoved him away from her.

"Don't call me that."

Despite the furious eyes, the princess could see how her Valyrian features softened.

What a close bond these youths had.

Rhaenyra couldn't help but think of her younger half-siblings, of how things would turn out to be if she had not been so distant.

The girl let out a frustrating growl as her brother yanked her long ponytail playfully one last time before climbing up his dragon, away from her fists and boots.

White wings spread out, she had estimated it the size of either Caraxes or Dreamfyre, and the white dragon takes into the air.

She observed as Vaella approached another beast on the plain.

"These are?"

" Suvio zaldrīzoti ." The girl answered simply,

"Ice dragons, Princess."

Ice dragons .

An enthusiastic shriek came from the dragon in front of her, with violet scales contrasting with pale blue membranes at the wings and eyes so shiny it seems to be made of molten silver.

The beast peered at them, cocking its head back and forth in a curious gesture.

As she inched closer, it pulled back as if startled and yapped up another short shriek.

"Oi," Vaella clicked her tongue, snapping her fingers to get it's attention.

"Oi, Lykiri ."

She turned to them with a tired smile as the purple beast didn't stop slithering its neck to get closer to them.

"She meant no harm, just likes making friends, especially with kids."

"Kids?" Daemon repeated.

Vaella raised her brows, glancing at the bump of Rhaenyra's belly.

"Ah," She felt a small grin on her lips as she rubbed the babe inside of her.

"Sovarys is very quick to pick up on these things." The girl explained.

"The first to notice when Vor's brothers were just forming in their mother's womb less than a moon and a half passed."

Vaella proceeded to pat her dragon's flank (Rhaenyra was sure no dragon, even the friendliest, would let someone that is not its rider get that close so easily), 

" Dokimare, Riña ." She scratched those crystalised scales.

" Zȳha rūso vāsir māzigon. "

The dragon let out a faint sound that resembled a frustrating sigh, and Vaella tucked the corner of her lips.

" I know. "

A shriek from another side made her head turned. The last beast is smaller than the white one, appearing at the same size as the purple dragon.

" Kelītīs, Antaemas ." Vorondyr ordered. This is definitely his dragon, with dark bluish-green scales adorned with pearly grey membranes and eyes of bronze.

" Ao olvie ȳdragon ."

Vaella snorted, climbing up to the leather bags beside her saddle and pulled out a wooden box along with another smaller leather bag.

" Henujagon. " She said, securing the box onto her waist with her arm while flinging the leather straps of the bag onto her shoulder.

" Kisikagon aōla. "

With a shriek, her mount open its wings and soared.

It is the same size as Rhaenyra's Syrax.

And when it flew, her mouth gaped.

It is as fast as Meleys.

The green dragon followed close, disappearing in the clouds as their growls and shrieks fades.

She look at her husband,

"What do you think?"

Daemon glanced back, a smirk forming at his lips.

"A good potential ally, indeed."

Chapter Text

four

vaella

Vaella groaned as she laid her box onto the table, and threw her bag onto the bed.

She is tired.

There is nothing more she wanted to do than to get back to sleep.

She thinks of her home, back in the Bone Valley, of her bedroom with a view over all of the city, of the white stone walls of her ancestral seat of Skullmanse, of her mother, who had just regained consciousness right before they left that night.

The lady of the Bone Valley collapsed onto the chair, sinking into the soft velvet lining over it.

Everything was fine, two moonturns and a half ago.

Aeras departed to deliver the bone lamp commissioned by a noble of Volantis, who paid for it handsomely, by his own hand, and decided to extend his route to Pentos to find new inspiration for the next models, as usual.

He wrote to them, informed of his cruise, as usual.

He didn't take Phrodian along, as usual.

Who would want a dragon to hover over their customer's house on a business trip?

Then, he went silent.

Vaella had thought what anyone who knew her brother would have thought,

He was enjoying his solitude, free from the stress upon him as the heir to the Dragonbone Throne.

Then, a message came from one of their customers Aeras was scheduled to meet and struck a deal with in Pentos.

A shipwreck surfaced, with indications that it had been the ship he was upon.

And that was almost a fortnight ago.

Their mother collapsed to the ground, their father paled at the letter, their uncle covered his face in stress, their sister swallowed down her tears as she called for help for mother.

And as for her, she went still, numbing from head to toe. The first thing pulling her senses back is Vorondyr's arms around her as he pulled her in and cradled her head.

She self-assumed that his body was not found, given there is no mention in the small parchment that she read and read again for over ten times. And, now looking back, she might be on the verge of sanity that time, she decides she would look for him herself.

Vor found her, cloaked in black, watching the discussion of the planned funeral for her brother, stilled and silent as that of a pillar in the corner of the room.

What are you thinking? He asked, rubbing her cold fingers.

He always see through her, given that they spend all their known lifetime together.

To go and look myself . She answered.

I will go find him . Have a feeling he's still alive.

He looked at her like she's mad.

Kepa wouldn't like that.

She smiled,

I know.

Vorondyr shook his head, gritted his teeth for a moment, then open up again,

Have you a plan, yet?

She hit her tongue across her the backside of her teeth softly,

Thinking of riding Sovarys to Pentos, will scour through the Narrow Sea if I must to bring him home.

That is a suicide mission. He snarled in his throat, eyes narrowed, then thinned his lips.

When are we leaving?

She raised her brows,

Thought you're not in for it?

He huffed, a smile tucking on the corner of his mouth as he nudged her with his shoulder,

Can't let my favourite cousin go rogue on her own without her loyal sidekick, can I?

She let out a chuckle, a faint but considered a small laugh for the first time in hours.

He was always in for a ride or die with her, they have been like that since their childhood. No matter the consequences, if she decides, he would back her up, as she will do to him.

A loyal sidekick, indeed.

If I may, He licked his lips.

I had a theory of mine own.

Shoot .

Considering our dragon pack consists of small, tight groups tied together in the circle they are, He begins, keeping his voice low enough to not let anyone hear.

I'm thinking of taking Phrodian.

She frowned at the mention of her brother's dragon,

What?

You see, our group; me, you, Aeras, and our dragons, we always fly out to hunt together when others stick to their own circle, yes?

Mmhmm.

And Aeras is the oldest, and the leader of our small pack.

Yes.

By that assumption, Phrodian is the leader of our dragons, too. Though we gave them no command, they would follow their elder.

She blinked, remembering that one time they were flying together. Aeras flew in front with her on the right and Vor on the left, sometimes when Phrodian noticed a flock of sheep and dived down first, they didn't even have to told them where they should go, their dragons chase closely after the white dragon and performed a very unusual pack strategy, squeezing their prey into a tight spot and did their deed, roasting them whole.

She noticed both Sovarys and Antaemas waited until Phrodian had finished half of his ration to join in the feast.

You planned to use Phrodian as a magnet tracing to our lēkia?

He raised his brow,

What say you, Vae?

She had grinned, nodding ever so slightly.

Gather your things, Vor, She said, eyes sharp,

Meet me at the Field of the Ice Dragons in the hour of the wolf, dress yourself in armor, take your saddle and cloak yourself unnoticed. Us two and our three dragons would go find my brother's goddamned arse.

And just like that, they flew south.

Traveling without clear destination has been hard.

Yes, it was just her and her cousin, sitting still and grabbed on the handle of their saddles, letting their dragons lose.

But it was not that simple.

Sometimes Phrodian just circled around an area, and sometimes it was just him perching down to rest his sore wings. Sometimes they were flying restlessly, Vor had to sleep on his saddle, something he only saw her did for the time before this, and she had to stay up all night to make sure he would not slip and fell off somewhere. Sometimes she's the one who's sleeping.

Their rations burned out faster than they had estimated, their seven days journey from the Bay of Tusks to the edge of Essos extended into fourteen.

Her brother's dragon refused to eat, clearly longing for his rider, and that frustrates her so much she once walked to him and kicked his damned leg, cursing at him to just take the fucking sheep into his mouth to lessen her anger.

It was a miracle Phrodian had not swallowed her whole yet, but she leaned more into the fact that he is, both body and soul, too tired to conjure up his wrath.

But as they catch a glimpse of a stone castle amongst the clouds, the white dragon suddenly lights up, shrieking with excitement as he dived through the sky and approached the island.

And now, they are at the ancestral seat of the Targaryens, their fellow Valyrian house.

She looked down at her hand, it was still sore at her knuckle, where she had taken her black gloves off and punched Aeras hard in the stomach.

Vaella slowly positioned herself, eyes fell heavy as she slipped into her long-waited deep sleep.

"Oi," A tug at her arm pulled her up from the blanket of dreams she happily enjoyed.

And Vaella is anything but pleased.

She groaned, pulling her touched arm to the other side, mumbling a dismiss in Valyrian through her sleepy tongue.

"Oi," That hand came again, she remembered the voice now.

"Wake up."

Aeras .

" You knew better than to pull me off my sleep, lēkia. " She muttered, High Valyrian slipping off to protest his Common Tongue.

" I won't have you sleeping in full armor, Vae ." Her brother clashed back in the same language, yanking her shoulders and shook her awake.

She groaned.

" For the love of the Gods, leave me be. " Her hand came up to push his grip away.

" I have been rid of sleep for days, not even you can take it from me again once it's in my grasp. "

She heard a sigh.

" At least wash yourself and go sleep properly on the furniture that was created for that particular activity. "

Vaella gritted her teeth, pulling her heavy eyelids open.

" Have you heard of the word intrusion, lēkia? "

Her brother eyed her up and down,

" It was not intrusion when I called and knocked for you multiple times without answer, hāedar. "

She groaned as her hands pushed herself up onto her feet. Her muscles ached, as is her head.

"Fine." She grumbled, pulling off the lace of her boots and undo the cuffs around her forearms.

Her eyes wandered to a face behind her brother's,

"My Prince?"

Jacaerys Velaryon nodded,

"Lady Saneiros."

She rubbed her eyes, moved over to sit onto the sheets of the bed as she freed herself of her shoes.

Vaella's attention wandered to the brown-haired boy once again. She had not given a chance to take a good look at him, since her only attention in the whole messy scene was Aeras.

He had dark brown hair, kept inches above his shoulder. His eyes a shade of coffee from the Free Cities she remembered her father liked to drink in the early morning, flickering, calculating.

His face was adorned with a well-chiseled jaw, a nose with its tip turned up, a set of thin lips and straight, sharp eyebrows. A kind of face feature she could bet on her precious skeletal collection that will break many ladies' hearts in the times to come, when he had grown fully into a young man.

The only thing branded him as a son of the Princess Rhaenyra is her face structure that passed on to him.

A pretty boy, with pretty eyes.

"Pray tell-" She yawned mid-sentence.

"What makes you seek for me, lēkia? It was just moments ago that I drifted to sleep."

"I was to inform you of the supper tonight, with the family of the Princess." Aeras leaned his forehead onto the wall above the hearth.

"Ah," Vaella made a sound, signaling her acknowledgement.

"And?"

"Have you taken your attire, Vae?" He asked,

"The appropriate-for-dining one?"

She felt her brow twitch.

"What am I to you, a witch who could pull out a dress from thin air?"

He clicked his tongue.

She sighed,

"I had taken everything inside that bag. I had only come to retrieve you, no necessity to bring a dress for some dinner party."

"So you have none?"

Vaella glared,

"Do I have to speak Ibben?"

"You can have my mother's," Jacaerys spoke up.

"She had plenty, I'll see to it."

She raised her brows and exchange glances with her elder brother,

"Lēkia?"

Aeras crossed his arms,

"If the Princess agrees."

The lady of the Bone Valley smirked, turning to the Prince in the back.

"That will be the most honour, My Prince."

Chapter Text

five

jacaerys

Supper was one of the times all of his family members were present, eating and discussing their daily events.

His mother sat with her husband at the head of the table, while Jace took a seat at her right.

Candles were lit. And his siblings walked into the room.

Lucerys sat beside him, followed by Joffrey. Rhaena and Baela on the opposite sides, Aegon and Viserys with their wetnurse on the other table.

Aeras entered, striding in white and silver doublet, his Valyrian features striking, faint smiles clinging losely onto his lips.

Vorondyr followed in, his violet eyes shimmering in the golden lights, he cloaked himself under the same color as his cousin.

His eyes flickered to the last figure approaching.

Vaella is in one of his mother's old gowns, white and golden and silver, her pale hair tucked into a loose, simple braid.

She looked every inch a goddess descending into the mortal realm.

The lady slid into her position beside her elder brother, sandwiched between him and her cousin.

"You look beautiful, My Lady." His mother greeted,

"I'm glad the dress I could fit in no more found its new owner."

"I'm flattered, Princess." She tucked the corner of her lips.

"But I could not take what was originally others. And I am sure it looked better on you."

"White is your color, My Lady." Baela spoke up.

"Oh," Vaella chuckled,

"That is an overstatement, My Lady."

Jace could only watch, until he heard Luke's whisper.

"Be careful, there will be a fly entering your mouth soon enough."

He slammed his jaw shut, pushing his brother's shoulder amidst the younger's soft giggles.

As the plates were delivered in, his mother started conversing, eager to know her fellow Valyrian bloods.

"Tell me, Lord Aeras, about your family. I would be glad to learn more about my fellow Valyrians."

"I am no lord, Princess." Aeras chuckled, sipping wine in his goblet.

"Not yet until my father decided it is time to pass to me the burden of my kingdom."

"Best to not pass it around this time," Vaella clicked her tongue,

"I dread the moment."

Her elder brother scrunched his nose, but admitted,

"True. I would drive my mother down the Shivering Seas if I were to become Lord of the Bone Valley."

Vorondyr just passed a plate of roast pork into his cousin's waiting hands and smiled softly as he explained,

"Our ancestors had left Valyria a bit after yours, Princess. The late Lord Gaelor Saneiros, if the legends were to be some sort of truth, found cracks and signs of the eruption down the base of one of the Fourteen Flames. He pleaded for further investigations for a year, after being dismissed and exiled, he left with his family and his men, back to his ancestral seat in the Bone Valley."

"He was called 'the Mad', but his madness saved us." Vaella tucked the corner of her lips into a sly smirk, raising her goblet.

"To Gaelor."

"Here, here." Her brother downed the content.

"I don't understand," Rhaenyra raised a brow.

"You are not originally from the Valyrian Peninsula?"

"We are…of the same race, you could say." Aeras thinned his lips.

"But our ancestors had spent their lives in the Bay of Tusks long before the rise of Valyria. We tamed the ice dragons around that time, too."

Jace leaned in, his interest grew and his attention shifted from the mutton in front of him to his guests.

"They never get used to the heat of Valyria, unfortunately." Vaella sighed,

"They were left to live and breed at the Valley, and we got called dragonless dragonlords. "

"But it does rhymes well, doesn't it?" Aeras joked, laughing into his bread.

She just cocked a single brow to him, chewing on her meat.

"And will it be okay?" Rhaena voiced,

"Stable them in with their fire counterparts?"

Vaella hummed in her throat, sounding like the sweetest music to Jace's ears as her amethyst eyes glinted.

"Our ice dragons are not that weak, My Lady. Some old records even stated when their frostfires mixed in with dragonfires of yours it could create one of the most powerful attacks any dragon could dare combine, though I have not been lucky enough to see it came to being."

"Best not." Vorondyr warned,

"There will be huge casualties."

"I see you are all wearing white." Joffrey chimes in from his seat, wanting to engage in a conversation as well.

"Is that your House's color?"

"Good observation, My Prince." Aeras praised with a smile in his fine features.

"But we Valyrians traditionally had no banners and colors and words like yours." Vaella said,

"We wore many colors. Usually black."

Vorondyr swallowed his poultry and helped putting a piece of beef onto his cousin's plate, whispering something to her in High Valyrian, before shrugging.

"White is good, though."

"I would like to know about your city as well, Lady Vaella." Daemon spoke up.

"I am a man who likes to travel, you see. Could you walk me through some insight, where exactly the Valley of Bones is, mayhaps?"

"That would be lovely, My Prince." She raised her brows, taking another sip of wine.

" Rihot Ībenka is but a small plateau under the mountains and on the shore in the Bay of Tusks, we have quite an amount of skeletal remains of the ancient times in our land, some called it Timpys Rihos because of the pale stones there. It would be our honor to host a member of fellow dragonlord houses someday in the future."

"I will look forward to that day, Lady Saneiros." Jace's stepfather raises his goblet.

"Your home sounds fascinating, and it would be my honor in turn to be visiting such magnificent place."

Jace looked at her, realizing that the Bay is located in the north of Essos, and almost half a world away from Dragonstone.

He imagined Vaella, a girl of his age, departing her home, with no one but her cousin and their dragons, flying about the continent, searching desperately for their brother, grasping onto just a thin thread of hope that he might be alive, somewhere. 

A feat he could never even think he would do.

In that moment, Jace felt intrigued by her.

He wished to know more about Vaella Saneiros.

The conversation went on and on, and before he could notice, their meal had ended.

Vaella retired with her brother and cousin to her room in the guest's quarters, her gown flowing through the stone floor as she went.

As fast as his mind had ran, he called out,

"Lady Vaella,"

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow as Aeras and Vorondyr walked ahead.

"My Prince?"

He gaped his mouth several times under her focused violet gaze, then finally stuttered,

"Would you like to join me for a walk in the morning? Dragonstone's weather at dawn is quite fine."

Gods, that was stupid as hell.

He heard Luke giggled from somewhere, and wished the ground would open and swallow him whole, but not before he shoved his brother down a pile of dragon's droppings.

Vaella's lips slowly rose into a smile as gentle as a soft wind, her eyes remained on his face the whole time she answered,

"That would be an honor, My Prince. I hope we could meet after the hour of the nightingale, so that I would clear out my routine first."

"Please do, My Lady."

She chuckled in her throat, the sound resonating through her frame as she duck her head lower,

"I'm looking forward to our walk. Have a good night, My Prince."

Butterflies are storming in the pit of his stomach when Jace bid her the same blessing and watch her slip silently into the corridor.

Baela watched him, a laugh barely contained in her throat.

He glared,

"Not a word."

She threw her hands up in a surrender sign,

"I'm just thinking you could do better than just proposing a morning walk."

"What?"

"Take her to Vermax," She tossed her curly silver hair and suggested.

"That would be cool, no?"

"Have you seen her dragon?" He furrowed his brows.

"It's the same size as Syrax, definitely much bigger than mine."

Swallowing, he adds in a quiet voice,

"I just want to get to know her."

His stepsister cooed, giving him a frustrating smirk,

"Quite a romantic one, aren't you?"

"I'm-" His words ran lose from his tongue,

"I'm not-"

"I don't…think of her that way." Jace manages to finish at last.

Baela jerked her brows, dropping a bomb before she disappeared into the shadows,

"Sure you do."

When Jacaerys mustered up a further explanation, he was already alone in the stoney hallways.

Well shit. Brilliant.

Chapter Text

six

vaella

Dragonstone's morning weather was, indeed, fine.

Vaella treads through the stone ways, haze engulfed her eyes and her eyelids heavy as she makes her way to the plains outside the castle.

She desperately wished to run back to her room, snuggled in the blankets and remain there until the sun is high in the sky, but her damned body wouldn't listen to her, pulling her awake and jolting her out for her regular morning routine she had been doing since she was ten.

Damn her body, she cursed her young self for rooting the habit deep inside her own brain.

After a series of long travels, all she wished was to make up for her lack of sleep, and even her own shell had betrayed her.

The gods must be laughing their ass off.

Fuck them too.

A wisp of chilling wind collided with her, drawing a soft gasp.

Anyone else would've had their feet and hands numb by that alone, but she managed to keep moving.

She silently thanked her Saneiros heritage that makes her immunity to coldness surpass that of a normal standard.

Groaning and mumbling incoherently, the lady kept her head low and just kept on walking.

The yard was already occupied, she saw flashes of familiar silver hair tied into a ponytail, and a cloud of dark hair moving alongside each other, clinging sounds of practice swords disturbed her solace and she clicked her tongue back in disapproval.

" Good morning ," Her elder brother greeted.

" Good morning ." She mumbled back, almost under her breath.

"You woke up later than you actually do, hāedar." Aeras called from the training grounds.

She whimpered in her throat,

" I have not slept in a bed for half a moon ." At her reply, her legs stride fast through the arched doors. She is too sleepy to slip into Common Tongue to match her brother's.

" Give me a peaceful break ."

She heard him let out a chuckle in the distance.

Vaella just walked straight out of there, moving by sheer feeling of the bond she had with her dragon, too hazy to decipher any faces present or the words thrown at her.

Sovarys is not far away, she could feel her.

A shriek greeted her, along with the sound of ice dragon's scales clinging as the beast moved. She almost tripped over a rock, but maintained her balance and stood up somewhat.

She kept her eyelids half-closed, extending her hands out to contact the cold, scaly hide of her dragon.

" Good morning to you too, girl ."

She ran her fingers along the surface until the texture of leather came into her senses, Vaella slipped her hand over it and started climbing up the saddle.

Once she had her body secured on the seat and legs laid ready at the base, she tugged her reins, murmuring with a voice still in the realm of dreams,

" Sōves ."

Sovarys cooed happily, spreading her wings and took off to the dim sky.

As the cold breeze engulfs her, Vaella tucked an especially made leather straps over her forearm and draped it through the metal hole, securing herself by the belt hanging from her saddle.

A tool crafted especially to suit her uncanny habit.

She let herself lose, resting her head on her hand that hovers the handles, groaning as her eyes fell close,

" I miss my bed ."

She remembered when she claimed Sovarys, more than ten years passed.

Vaella was at a shy age of four, when her father had taken her to the Field of the Ice Dragons to choose her mount.

Suvio Zaldrīzo Ninkion , That vast white plains spread between the mountains behind the hill of skulls, the location of her house's ancestral seat, Bartanni Bē Lenton , or Bartannēlenton , or Skullmanse, or whatever it was called.

There, the dragonlings, freshly hatched at less than three moons in, were presented to her. But she had only taken one swift look at them and shook her head.

No , She told her father.

Not mine .

Her eyes laid elsewhere, not even on the unbonded adults.

Her father had sighed, mumbling about taking her back there again when she's older when he walked past the incubation chamber.

Vaella remembered quickly grazing her eyes through the orb-like eggs, passing each one until she landed her gaze on one distinct individual.

A lilac egg, swirled with silver streaks that glitters silently over the warm coal and under the shadow of the room.

Kepa, Vaella, sitting in his embrace and hoisted up in his arms, tucked her father's long pale hair, almost yanking it, drawing a sharp small surprise yelp from him.

That .

He looked at her with flying eyebrows.

An egg, tala?

That . She repeated, pointing stubbornly.

Sweetling, that took longer for you to meet your dragon, does it not? He persuaded her.

Why don't we go back and take a look at those hatchlings again?

She shook her head hard, firm, relentless.

That.

He looked reluctant.

Looking back, she doesn't blame him. Eggs took longer to wait for the hatchling inside, and no one knows if it's just a chunk of stone or not. Choosing hatched dragons are fail-safe methods and as soon as it was chosen it could be trained to the demands of its master right away.

But she was stubborn enough to be sure that the egg was what she wanted.

When she saw her father silent, Vaella had reached up and kissed his cheek, giving him her doe eyes.

It works every time.

And Lord Thaemor Saneiros sighed, kissing her temple back, returning home with her and the lilac egg in his hand.

Half a year later, and she was bonded with Sovarys, a dragonling with amethyst scales, shades as dark as her eyes, and irises of shining molten silver.

She was overjoyed, often snuck her beast in to sleep in her chambers, the small tails, already blessed with fatal venom, coiled above her ear as the dragon tucked in her claws and wings, sleeping and purring on her head like a cat.

Of course, to her parent's horror.

They were terrified, fearing she might accidentally stung Vaella in her sleep. Though she had argued that their bloodline developed a tolerance of said venom, it could never hurt her more than a bit of numbness in small amount, she finally wrap Sovarys' tail spikes with a protection glove, made from knitted thread that are thick enough to not be penetrated easily.

When the dragon was too big and was moved to a separate nest in the Field, she usually slipped out past bedtime, taking with her a set of thick blankets and sleepwears, sometimes with nothing at all but a cloak over her shoulder, and snuggled up with her throughout the night.

Since her first flight with Sovarys, they had got addicted to the sensation, and because of her insatiable desire to feel the wind around her and the purr of her dragon as much as possible, both of them had developed a new habit.

Her dragon would wake up in the early morning, as did Vaella. She would walk straight from her bed to Sovarys' nest and take flight right then, she doesn't bother herself to change from her sleeping gown, only wasting a bit of time to saddle her dragon, sometimes not saddling at all. But she once almost fell from the sky without it, and Sovarys, ever a smartass she is, would take her saddle by her mouth and drop it onto her head if she's sleepy enough to not notice.

The message was clear.

No saddle, no flying .

She remembered the sheer horridness when she took off with nothing but her hand to grip on, and stumbled into thin air when her heavy eyelids gave out on her and her fingers slipped.

Vaella was fortunate enough that Sovarys had caught her mid-falling and landed straight into the closest ground.

And yes, she had a habit of falling asleep on dragonback while flying.

What can she say? It was too peaceful, too quiet, and she is a sleepyhead.

She once took to flight with her a blanket and a pillow, even.

Aeras had screamed a mortifying scream when he saw her lying face down, still as the dead, on Sovarys' saddle, limbs splay relaxed, during an encounter between his sea patrol and her morning session.

After that, sleeping on dragonback was prohibited unless she tied herself to the saddle.

That's when the leather strap alterations came in.

Lucky for her, the dawn flight was not a time Sovarys was at the peak of her energy. So usually all they did was just circling around and swooping down a bit. Every time she's ducking into somewhere or doing anything risking her falling off the saddle if she's still napping, Sovarys would screech, alarming her first.

Golden light that illuminates the dark sky slowly takes away the stoney weights on her eyelids, and Vaella whines in her throat as she raises her head from the handles.

Her white nightgown flutters against her naked legs as the wind whips through her, flipping away her silver hair.

The warm sunrays caught onto the crystal-like scales of her mount, coloring them into lilac.

" Qubemagon, Gēlinkalaesi ." She tugged her reins, sighing as she called Sovarys in her nickname.

The silver-eyed, with eyes of silver befitting the name.

The dragon ducked down gently, wings spread wide as she glided down the sky. Her pale blue membrane between the bones stretching her flying organs fluttered as the wind ripped through them.

She flies along the shores of Dragonstone, noting the geological structure and the smoldering mountain on the side of the island.

Everything's quiet, still somber from the shades of the night lingered between the stones.

That was until she neared the castle's balcony.

A clear, ringing sound of something very much familiar made her freeze. Her eyes went still for a moment before tearing off to dart to the direction of said sound.

Sovarys stopped in the air abruptly, pulling herself back to the castle wall, almost shaking her off in the process had it not been the straps on her arm keeping her attached to the saddle.

Vaella glanced down.

A figure with silver-haired ponytail was standing there, just behind the rails of the stone balcony.

A smug smile greeted her.

Aeras , again.

When she saw what he had in his hands, her eyes were blown wide.

He cocked his eyebrows at her, raising a big leather ball with worn-out seams, adorned with bright thread embroideries.

She gaped her mouth,

"You did not ."

"Oh yes," He grinned

"I did."

Vaella saw the glimpse of wickedness in his eyes, and tucked at her reins frantically, looking at her dragon's eyes that were now staring at the object in her brother's grasp.

"Sovarys, Sovarys!"

One of the favorite activities of her dragon are chasing something fast, and playing with bells-encased leather ball she had been gifted since her dragonling years. Anytime she heard her ball ringing, she would shift all her focus on it.

Vaella had brought it from home, and kept it in the wooden box in her room.

This fucker dare intrude her room and stole her ball, all while she's flying.

She glared a hole into her brother.

Growing up with the twat made her know damn well what he would do next.

"Don't you dare ."

Aeras glides over, a smirk displayed on his lips invoked the murderous fire inside of her.

He looked at the melon-sized ball over his palm, then at the silver of Sovarys' eyes, unwaveringly staring at every motion going on it.

His voice is soft, High Valyrian swirling like a note flow from the harps of the gods,

" Enjoy, hāedar ."

With the slight tip of his wrist, the ball fell into the void of air.

Vaella gripped the reins as her dragon darted off, only managing to spat a short curse at him before the air filled her lungs.

" Fuck you !!!"

Chapter Text

seven

vaella

She ended up diving head down into the Narrow Sea.

Damned ball just went straight in the water, and the damned dragon of hers just went straight after it.

Sovarys is now flying freely, probably forgetting she's still in her saddle. She shrieked happily as she flipped back up, tossing the ball between her claws and laid onto her back.

Vaella cursed under her breath, gripping the handle as she tightened her legs around the saddle, holding on for dear life while her world turned upside down.

After the second swoop into the sea, the twirling and the third flip, she decided she had faced enough irritation in a few first hours of the day that she could carry it throughout the night.

The lady grunted, grabbing the reins and yanked towards herself,

" Dohaeras, Sovarys !!" She bellowed,

" Rȳbagon !"

Sovarys seemed to finally realize her master's still there, and slowly settled back into her usual flying formation.

She let out a long sigh,

" Lykirī , riña . Dokimare se qubemagon ." Vaella commanded,

" Mōris īlva ñaqes umāzit ."

The silver-eyed gave a reluctant growl.

She clicked her tongue,

" Nyke epagon daor ."

Sovarys shook her head, rippling the spikes and scales along her neck, and landed onto the grass with a loud sigh.

This absolute twat-

Vaella rubbed her eyes, freeing herself from the restraints binding her into her saddle and yanked the ball back from her dragon's mouth, earning a growl of protest from Sovarys. In which she returned with an audible glare,

Shut up or it's three days without your precious toy .

Vorondyr greeted a lovely good morning by tossing a cloak over her, obscuring her view as she let out a yelp.

"Oi!"

" You are soaking wet ." He explained, rubbing the thick fabric over her damp long loosen hair that touched her waist and wiped her face, both of which had been primarily dried off by the winds.

She twitched her brows when he tied the cloak around her neck, in which he grimaced back,

" I said you're wet, Vae. And I mean you and your nightgown ."

Oh.

Oh .

" Yeah, thank you ." She thinned her lips, clasping the front of the dark coverings and pulled it down.

He sighed, rubbing her shoulders through the cloak and walked with her back into the land.

" I'll never understand why you would fly first thing in the morning with nothing on but your nightclothes and your sandals ." He started rambling,

She snorted,

" I guess it's the same way for you, how you'd always sleep naked throughout the night just to sleepwalk up in the early dawn to put your clothes back on and get back to slumber? ."

" Ah, how I hope Sovarys never leave the sea ." Her cousin gasped, she pushed the ball into his chest for him to hold as she gathered her clothes, heavy with the weight of water soaking in them.

How could Vaella forget that fateful morning when she was tasked to shake him awake just a few hours after midnight for their long travel to Pentos.

It was too early for his sleepwalking self to put the tunic back on.

She entered his chamber, just to scream like she saw the dead rise again at his bare pale body when she had woken him and he had risen up from under the blankets. They were both four-and-ten.

The wound is fresh. She's still traumatized to this day from that image.

" Where is our lēkia ?" She asked.

He chuckled,

" You'd bash him ?"

" I'd swat him ." Gritting her teeth, she replied.

" Like a fucking moth ."

Once she saw the damned fucker standing tall and prideful in her sighting range, Vaella's body moved automatically.

She took off one of her sandals and aimed at his ugly head.

His cry brought a huff of laugh to her lips as Aeras flinched and covered his head when it hit him.

Bull's eye, bitch.

" Serves you right !" She said, content filling her voice.

" Thought you had fun ." He murmured with a twitch of his lips that sent her into a mild rage again.

" The fuck I had ." Vaella glared a sharp glare, stomping over the field to him. The long grass did nothing but scratch her bare feet and naked legs under the damp cotton dress.

He chuckled,

"You look nicer when you're wet, hāedar."

She growled, almost screamed as she collected the brown leather sandal and pulled a slap over his head to pin him lower to her waist level, her hand entangled in his hair.

Ignoring his muffled panic grunts, she used his head as a ground to lean on while she put her shoe back on.

Then she noticed,

Jacaerys Velaryon was standing next to her brother, looking at the scene with an amused expression. His velvet padded doublet is half black, half red with silver fastenings designed into dragons, wore over a pair of black trousers and black leather boots.

"My Prince," Vaella greeted, pulling the cloak further over to cover herself more.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Lady Saneiros." He nodded,

"I hope you had a good sleep last night?"

"I had, thank you for your concern, My Prince." She replied,

"And I'm sorry we had to meet like this."

He fluttered his eyes, then mouthed an o when he realized her attire.

"Please, My Lady, I am the one who had to apologize. Surely you had said you would be completing your morning routine first before you'd meet me for our walk. I hope you won't get upset with any of my foul manners."

"Not at all, My Prince." She chuckled in her throat.

"I have finished all there is to be done. With your permission, I would return to my chambers and change into something more presentable."

"Please do, My Lady." The reply came quickly, she batted her eyes as he continued with a soft smile.

"I hope to accompany you to the beach myself."

She bowed her head slightly,

"That would be the most gracious of you, My Prince."

Prince Jacaerys waited for her at the end of the guest's quarters.

Vaella sighed as she tugged her hair into a side braid hastily and smoothed her long black leather coat she'd brought with her from the Bone Valley. The white fastenings made from carved bones embedded with silver made a soft clicking noise as well as the silver dragonscales sewed from her shoulders to her shoulderblades, trailing down along the sides of her back to her waist that was fitted with a belt. The braces on her forearm and her boots are fastened with a set of belts, she considered putting her gloves on but decided to tuck them into the gaps between the coat and the belt instead.

She glides the stone floor towards him,

"I hope I did not make you wait, My Prince."

"Not at all, My Lady." He said, a smile tugging at his lips as he gestured his hand to the side.

"Shall we?"

She nodded, and they tread out of the castle together, heading down the stoney steps into the shore of Dragonstone.

"How has your journey been, My Lady?" He asked, breaking the silence and ambience of seagulls singing and waves crashing into the sand.

She blinked,

"I wish I could tell you it was fair and well,"

"It is not, is it?"

She chuckled, shaking her head slowly,

"Not at all ."

With a sigh, Vaella held her head up and closed her eyes, feeling the tranquil sea breeze running through her hair.

"We fly without navigation, My Prince. I don't even know where to go."

When he looked at her with a surprise pair of brown eyes, she laughed.

"You see, Vorondyr is crazy enough to propose me the idea of letting our brother's dragon lose so maybe he could take us to his rider. And I am much crazier to agree with it."

"So, let me get it straight," He licked his lips, brow furrowing.

"You and your cousin flew about Essos for a fortnight, without a clear destination?"

"It was only the west side of Essos." She shrugged,

"But yes, the other statements are correct."

He gaped his mouth, and she laughed again.

"I do not know if that's bravery or stupidity," And as soon as he said it, Jacaerys looked as if he had blurted something inappropriate.

"I apologize, I should not judge-"

She maintained her smile as she cut his sentence short with her own, and continued walking alongside him.

"I think it's a bit of both, but leaning more to the latter."

He thinned his lips.

"Please, My Prince." Vaella twisted the corner of her lips up.

"You can say whatever you want to say, at least with me. I assure you, I am not upset."

He returned her request with a small nod and whispered very well then .

She chewed the bottom of her lip and clasped her hands at the small of her back,

"We spend our time mostly on dragonback. Me and Vor, we take turns to guard each other. There was no rule as to how we should do it, but mostly it was me staying up all night and him staying awake all day, just to make sure none of us slipped off without notice."

His dark brows knitted further,

"You…you sleep on dragonback?"

Vaella raised her brows,

"I…guess so?"

"Wasn't it dangerous?"

"Well," She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth,

"If you've done it enough, it's not that scary."

"How-how?" He looked baffled to the point she almost burst into laughter.

She suppressed it, as hard as she could, and replied,

"You just make sure your dragon won't drop you, or make sure to wake up everytime you felt the pressure in the air changes."

"...That's hard as hell." He commented.

Vaella giggled,

"I know, take a few falls from the sky and you'll get used to it soon enough."

"And you've been dropped too!" He exclaimed.

" Fall is more a suitable word, My Prince." She watched in amusement as his face was clouded with confusion.

Jacaerys looked at her like he saw a ghost.

"What did your parents say?"

"Oh," She glanced to the side,

"I won't be doing it if they know, will I?"

He went still for a moment, then let out a small huff.

She chuckled,

"I ride Sovarys since I was very young. There's no one who could know my dragon better than I do. And yes, that means she saw I dropped from her back once and is hellbent on not letting it happen again."

"So, you fell when you were like what, twelve?"

"Nine, exactly." She smirked at his hard to explain expression.

"I rode her for the first time when I was that age. We had a habit of riding together first thing after waking up ever since."

"Oh," He gaped his mouth,

"So that was your morning routine?"

"Mmhmm." She hummed back.

"And that's how I learned to sleep on her back."

"Don't tell me…"

"That I continue my slumber in the sky this morning? I'm afraid it's a yes."

He let out a groan.

"That's why Aeras said something about you dreaming in the clouds when we sparred this dawn."

"Oh, so you are the one with my brother when I…?"

His nod says it all.

"Oh dear," She rubbed her chin,

"I'm so sorry I haven't greeted you right then, My Prince. I have to admit I am a heavy sleepyhead, and my sight after freshly woken is not anywhere near good, especially when I intend to get back right into my dreams shortly after."

"Do not mind, My Lady." He waved it away.

"But do not fret I will die under your roof, My Prince." She tried to justify herself.

"A few years ago my brother insisted me on adding an extra strap in the saddle to bind me, so that there would be no chance of me getting out of it without being mutilated."

He passed a had over his face,

"You Saneiroses sure are a different creature."

Vaella laughed wholeheartedly,

"Why thank you, My Prince. I will take that compliment with me till I die."

Jacaerys turned to look at her, his lips curled into a soft smile as his brown eyes glinted into the shades that reminded her of embers in the morning sunlight. His dark hair whipped over his comely face by the winds from the sea.

Beautiful.

"Call me Jace, My Lady."

She felt a smile make its way over her lips,

"And you can call me Vaella."

Chapter Text

eight

jacaerys

Jace felt at ease, talking to Vaella Saneiros.

They traced along the shores, submerging in the conversation that shifts from how she sleeps on dragonback to how she manages to arrive at Dragonstone.

They all say my brother is dead . She said

But I spent all my life with him. The bastard won't die in a mere shipwreck, he'd choose a more dramatic way to depart .

He found himself snorted at that.

If there's anything in common between them, it's their devotion to their family.

Though she never stated out loud, the fact that she came all the way here, escaping her home at midnight after the funeral to her thought-to-be-dead brother was held, proved louder than any words uttered that she does care for him greatly.

He remembered what Vorondyr had said at the field when Aeras reunited with his dragon yesterday,

It was Vae . He told his cousin,

She never gives up on riding home with you on Phrodian .

A moment later, he found himself discussing the Valyrian pronunciation with her.

"You rolled your tongue like my brother does." She remarked.

"He taught me," Jace shrugged.

"How did you originally pronounce, the r sound?"

He said kirimvose , and the lady nodded, the side braid nestling at the nape of her neck fling slightly.

" The eyes are the door to one's heart, but the accent is the reflection of one's life ." She recites, High Valyrian soft against the sea waves.

Jace remembered,

"An Old Valyrian proverb."

She hummed in her throat, nodding,

"Taking after others is good, but it is important to not lose yourself."

Her amethyst eyes founded his,

"Your original r is not that bad, and sometimes I find my brother's r quite irritating to my ears. I won't say what to do or what not to do. But it'd be interesting if you could find the common ground between it all, to blend in everything and make the accent yours ."

Vaella seemed to scoot closer, her next sentence felt like a whisper into his ears, though Jace knew she'd be at least an arm's length away from him.

"I quite like it when you are yourself, like when you told me I'm stupid a while ago."

Forget the butterflies, it's a whole damn flock of birds that are fluttering like crazy right now in his stomach.

He looked at her smile, trying to conjure up a word to reply.

He could not.

So Jace just kept his head ducked down, hands clutching behind like she did, and continued walking.

"Do you have anything to do after this?" She spoke up, biting the bottom part of her lip,

"Silly me, of course you do. I mean you are the heir of your mother, anyways. Just-"

"I-" He interrupted,

"I-uh-had sparring lessons with Luke, just at the shore up ahead."

"Oh," She thinned her lips,

"I was…I was wondering if I could join. I mean, I know it is your lesson, but I just wanted to do something. I don't want to get back to the castle yet. I will just watch, nothing more, just that."

"Sure." The answer came quick, quicker than he had expected, even by his own mouth.

Vaella batted her lashes, stunned by a sudden response, then laughed,

"Thank you," She said, trailing off for a moment before finishing as if finding a courage to speak,

"Jace."

He liked how his name rolled from her tongue.

It was almost noon, when he reached the shore. Lucerys is waiting there with their Kingsguard trainer, Ser Steffon Darklyn.

"Good morning, Ser Steffon." He greeted.

"Good morning, My Prince." The other replied, holding out a training sword for him.

"Good morning, My Lady."

"This is Ser Steffon Darklyn," He introduced to her,

"He's in the Kingsguard."

"Pleasure to meet you, good Ser." Vaella nodded as she broke out of their course, residing into nearby stones to sit and watch.

Jace twirled the sword in his hands, minds wandering back to their latest event in King's Landing.

He thought of his younger uncle, how Aemond is able to beat the formidable Ser Criston Cole with no compliance.

Aemond is strong, maybe not as much as Daemon, but he is stronger than Luke, stronger than him.

He can't falter behind, not if he needed to protect his family.

So he lowered himself into position, and yelled for his brother to come forth.

He was hauling Lucerys off the ground when a voice called in,

"Your mother needs you."

Jace twirled around to face the princess Rhaenys Targaryen, standing at the cavernous rock entrance, dressed in her red and black armor.

He had furrowed his brows, looking at his grandmother for a moment before she added,

"She's having her labor."

And with that, he dropped everything and bolted back to the castle as fast as he could.

Luke followed closely, almost running.

When they entered, his mother's cry could be heard echoing the halls.

Jace stopped at the mouth of the room, wincing as he heard Rhaenyra whimpered with pain and paced back and forth all over.

Her golden silver hair, usually kept and smoothed, are now ruffled, sticking to her frame with sweats, and messy. Her footsteps unsteady as she kept rubbing herself to ease waves after waves of contractions.

"Mother," He found it in him to whisper, finally.

She looked so overwhelmed he was surprised she didn't just collapse.

Everything went by a blur, but her words cling onto him even after he left her chambers, embedded deep with violet eyes full of devastating pain that stared at him.

All that is mine, is now yours . Naught is to be done until I command .

Daemon is in the map room, and he understands right away when his mother said he wanted war.

There is nothing in his stepfather's eyes but violence, it reminded him of a beast frothing at its mouth for a pound of flesh, a river of blood, a fight to death, a vengeance released.

He could hear Rhaenyra's grunts in the air, calling for her husband if not for him to be by her side, then to remind him she is still there, and no blood will be spilled until she says so.

He wanted to run, to go far away from this place, to leave his stepfather's sighting range.

But he remembered his mother's words, how everything would go downhill if Daemon decided to go rogue like his name.

War is not an option right now, at least until his mother is up on her feet again.

So, he drew in a long breath, and approached.

Jace felt like he's face to face with a dragon itself when he confronted Daemon, and his heart beats so loud in his ears even after the Rogue Prince had taken him and the other two Kingsguard to Dragonmont to swear loyalty.

It only silenced when he returned to the halls, finding his siblings waiting for him.

Rhaena is already sobbing, Baela holds her close but she too is shaking, Joffrey looked confused and lost, and Luke's face and knuckles were so pale he first feared his brother might faint at any moment.

With a swift motion, he gestured to the girls to take a seat first, seeing how they were barely standing and flinched everytime a painful wail of his mother reached their ears.

Luke looked at him, licking his chapped lips and took Joff into his arms, rubbing circles onto the younger boy's shoulders and kissed his dark locks to calm him down, all the while whispering lykirī, Joffrey, all will be well .

He looked at his half-stepsisters, recalling the memories of their mother's funeral six years passed.

Aunt Laena died giving birth to a babe, too.

He felt someone walk over, and glanced to see Vaella with a solemn expression.

"How is your mother?" She asked, barely a whisper but he could hear every syllables clearly.

He sighed, shaking his head heavily,

"Not good."

She directed him a tight, yet encouraging smile.

"She's a dragon, she'll overcome everything in her way."

He nodded, blinking,

"I'm-I'm sorry."

She raised her brows,

"What for?"

"I left you." He said,

"At the beach, it was inadequate to leave a lady unescorted. I'm sorry."

Vaella snorted,

"Nonsense."

She look at him with her dark amethyst eyes, a faint smile still ghosting her lips,

"I wouldn't be happy if you waste your time walking me back while your mother is in pain. Besides, Ser Steffon is good enough for a company, and your grandmother too."

His eyes widened,

"My grandmother talked to you?"

"For a while," She shrugged,

"Then she departed for your grandsire. Lord Corlys, isn't it?"

Jace hummed in his throat as a confirmation.

She stood with him, letting the silence engulfed them.

His mother wailed again, and he heard his breath hitch.

"Do you-" Her eyelashes fluttered,

"Do you need anything? I can fetch you a cup of wine, o-or a basket of grapes, of course if you want it-"

"No." He shook his head,

"It's fine."

She glanced to him, a crease forming over her sharp brows, but she remained silent and tapped the hem of his doublet softly,

"If there's anything we could do, please tell."

Jace thinned his chapped lips and nodded,

"Thank you, Vaella."

Vaella gave him another quick smile, and walked away to join her brother and cousin who were talking quietly in the corner of the hall.

Chapter Text

nine

jacaerys

Visenya was her name, his little sister who should have been with them right now.

Named after a warrior queen, yet she lost her first battle and with it, her chance to live.

Rhaena cried against her sister, Joffrey is sad but still too young to understand anything, Luke crouched beside the girls and rubbed their arms as they shared a moment of silence.

His mother insists she'd wrap her babe herself, and Daemon was spotted on the beach, having a time with himself.

Jace left his siblings, wandered his way around to an old room inside the castle.

It was unoccupied, but kept clean somehow. He doesn't care what it's for, he just wants to be alone.

He sat down on the stone-cold floor, resting his head against the wall and stared out the open balcony, his legs splayed carelessly over the smooth but hard texture.

The sky is still greyish blue, the winds are still cold, the sea still crashes against the sand in the same motions it did a few hours back.

Everything looks the same.

He breathed in, and slowly let it slip out of his lungs.

His hand clenched, then unclenched.

He let the silence fill his head.

He tried not to think of the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, who was ever so kind to him, and he knows that his looks does not fail to give clear explanations of his heritage, but his grandsire loved him all the same.

He tried not to think of his mother's crown, stolen in the wake of her father's demise, and now laid atop of his elder uncle, a drunk who had absolutely no taste of duty.

He'd be less upset had it been his younger uncle Aemond, but he'd still be upset, just less than the fact that Aegon's now the King.

He tried not to think of the crib in Rhaenyra's chambers, laying wait for the babe to occupy.

He tried not to think of the dragon eggs he saw his stepfather watch over a few days back, preparing to select and place in his newborn sibling's cradle.

He tried not to think of Visenya, how they would all shower her with gifts and love, how she'd grow up to be a beautiful girl.

Oh, how the gods have tore everything imaginable from them in one swift, cruel, move.

His nails dug into his palm, and he felt his whole body shudder when the warm, slick liquid trailed down his skin.

The wooden door creaked open.

He didn't even move or turn his head to look at the intruder. He felt too tired.

Soft clinging sounds emitted when the figure in black leather sat down beside him.

He blinked.

She said nothing.

After a while, she reached for his hand, touch gentle like a breeze against his skin as she softly unfurled his balled fingers.

Vaella pulled out her kerchief from one of her pockets on the coat and pressed the fabric against the small wounds over his palm, his blood stained the white sheet red like flowers bloom in spring.

Her eyes were focused as she dapped the kerchief further to wipe away the red trails down the side of his hand.

Jace shivered when she picked his wrist up and blew soft breaths over the blood that pooled over the cuts until they dried off.

When she finished, Vaella tore the fabric in two and bound half of it across his palm, patting it a few times before taking another of his hand into hers, repeating the same treatment.

All through the process she said nothing. And only looked up into his eyes when she finished binding both his hands.

"Thank you." He whispered, voice hoarse and dry.

The corners of her lips tucked up into a small smile as she let go of him and drew her legs up to her chest.

"Can I ask of your age?" She rested a side of her face on her knees.

Jace raised his brows, but answered anyways,

"Six-and-ten."

Vaella nodded. She went silent for a moment, eyes wandered the hall of the chamber, then flickered back to him,

"Can I hug you?"

Her voice was nowhere near loud, but it echoed the stone ceiling.

His eyes fluttered.

She thinned her lips,

"Because as a six-and-ten myself, I felt like I'd need one if today's situation happened to me."

Jace inhaled, noticing how his breath shakes slightly.

She waited, not saying or doing anything else after that.

He slowly nodded.

Vaella licked her lips, pushing her knees sideways down to shift her position.

As she turned to face him, an arm extended behind him, while another hovered over his chest until she wrapped one hand on his shoulder and one hand on his waist.

She pulled herself close to him carefully, slowly, steadily, softly, until he felt the warmth beneath the leather of her coat.

Her heart beats against his arm, calm and caring. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt like the numbness drowning him moments ago slowly came apart.

His breath got more and more shaky, and he felt helpless as his eyes burned.

Her fingers moved, rubbing circles onto him through his padded doublet.

Jace rested his head on the crook of her shoulder, a soft cry escaping his lips when she hummed and curled in closer.

She smelled like sandalwood and fresh snow, and he felt the want to bury his head into her silver threads.

A moment later, he heard himself sobbing in her arms.

"Can I-" She began, her voice vibrating into him through her throat as she spoke.

"Can I touch your hair?"

With a nod from him, she laid her fingers on his hair, slowly treaded down the length of his skull, up and down as she tried to soothe him.

"It's not fair," He stuttered through his tears,

"It's not fair. My sister is dead and it's not fair."

She hummed softly as a response.

"It is my fault." He pursed his lips together, shaking.

"If I hadn't punched my uncle, we wouldn't be back at Dragonstone, and they could do naught to stop my mother from being crowned Queen."

"Your mother wouldn't want you to think that way." She ran her knuckles over his ear.

"Can I kiss your head?" Vaella asked again, her voice sent a shrill of comfort down his spines as she muttered next to his temples, gentle and light.

He nodded, hot liquid still dripping from his eyes.

She crouched down, her lips grazed the skin on his forehead, they were delicate and soft.

Jace closed his eyes as he felt her kiss at the base of his hair, he wept into her silver dragonscales embellishments as he pushed himself deeper into her embrace.

"I'm sorry," She whispered,

"I'm so sorry."

He felt so small and vulnerable, crumbled, but he didn't want this moment to end, surrounded by her warmth like this makes the pain and hollowness in him more bearable. Makes him feel as though he could still be fixed. 

"Do you want something? Anything?" Vaella suggested,

"I could get a cup of water for you."

Jace reacted quickly when she shifted to get to the door, his fingers reached the hem of her sleeves, tugging ever so slightly.

"No," He shook his head,

"Stay."

A smile sat on her face, a sad but soft one, as she fell back into her original position. He leaned his body against her, snuggling into the warmth beside him.

Her arms tightened around him, stroking his hair and hushed him with soft kisses then and there at his forehead and temple, humming a distinct tune that lulled him into a slumber.

The pyre was small and simple, and the flames were lit from the candle as his mother couldn't bring herself to send her daughter off with dragonfire.

The sound of woods cracking in fire echoed throughout, and it is the only sound besides the whipping wind through the ridge of the stones.

He shifted in his stance, feeling his muscles crying in protest as a result of staying on the hard floor for a long time.

His mother looked hollow, staring at their baby sister's shrouded body for a long time. His stepfather is beside her, joining together in their sorrow.

Luke and Joff stood beside him, Rhaena and Baela to the back, Aegon and Viserys are with their nursemaids.

His brother's face was pale, and Jace knew he had been crying heavily with those puffy eyes. So he took Lucerys' shoulder and tucked it slightly.

Luke looked at him, eyes sad, he swallowed but said nothing.

He rubbed the younger boy's arm, sending Rhaena and Baela an encouraging smile while resting a hand on Joffrey.

His brown eyes wandered,

Vaella is by the sides of her brother and cousin, they draped a piece of black cloth across their shoulders. She seemed a bit stiff as he is, considering she'd spent hours hushing him in that crouched position, dark fabric hanging from the back of her shoulders dancing with the wind.

Aeras and Vorondyr were all clad in black leather adorned with silver dragonscales like her. The elder's attire had the scales sewed into wide stripes that fell down his shoulders onto both the back and front side and clasped a belt over his waist, while the younger's silver embellishments traced the length of his sleeve and padded over his inner shoulders above his chest.

The Saneiroses share a look over the quiet cliff, and strides together towards the pyre.

"If we may, Princess?" Vaella stepped forward, holding out something white and long that had been wrapped with a black piece of fabric.

Rhaenyra shifted her gaze to look at it,

"These…"

"Lilies," She explained,

"We carved them out of bones, to be presented to the deceased's closest relative. It is a way to mourn our loved ones in the Valley of Bones."

"Bones?" Daemon raised his brows.

Vaella tucked her lips into a tight smile and shrugged,

"I happened to bring some from home. In case Aeras didn't make it."

His mother thinned her lips and nodded slowly, taking the bone-carved bouquet into her hand. Her hair is still not as neat as it once was, worn down loose with strands still tangled with sweat.

"Thank you." She said, her voice weaker than he had ever heard.

Aeras bowed back,

"We mourn with you, Princess."

They retreated, and everything fell back into silence once more.

That was until Ser Erryk Cargyll's entrance.

He brought with him a crown, that of his grandsire, and his grandsire the Good King Jaehaerys, silver and gold swirled together with Targaryen sigil in the center front and other powerful houses of the Seven Kingdoms along the circle.

The Kingsguard knelt, and pledged loyalty to his mother.

Jace watched as Daemon picked the crown from Ser Erryk's hands and placed it upon his mother's brows.

They sank to their knees.

Hours after his sister's death, their mother became Queen.

Chapter Text

ten

vaella

The map room is now crowded with lords from different houses that support Rhaenyra.

Vaella squeezed herself into the shadows, arm brushing that of her cousin, staying as silent as possible.

" You're shaking ." Vor whispered, rubbing her forearm.

She sighed, taking that hand into hers,

" And your hands are cold ."

As she rubbed the pale skin on his knuckles, he moved closer, like he usually did when they found themselves in the room full of strangers.

And she tucked his arm back, standing slightly guarding him like she usually did when he hid behind her.

" What will happen next ?" He furrowed his brows, looking at the lit candles on the tray that were being slid across the floor under the stone map, illuminating the river cavities in bright orange like a molten lava.

She shook her head,

" Don't know, Vor, I have no idea ."

Her gaze shifted to her elder brother, standing before them with broad shoulders and hands clasping behind his back.

Aeras' face was unreadable, calm and still, but his violet eyes are filled with something she always saw when he's meeting up with the commissioners that traveled to their realm for an artpiece made by Valyrian craft techniques.

He's thinking, situations flooding in his eyes, calculating ever so carefully.

Rhaenyra, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, walked in. Her black cloak trailing behind like shadows, looking majestically regal in all her glory.

"How many houses do we have?" She demanded, her voice is that of a sovereign.

The council started naming, and she shook her head,

"Too small."

The topic shifts from houses to men, then to dragons.

"We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys," Daemon counts, turning to the Queen,

"Your sons have Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer."

"Daemon," Rhaenyra said,

"Our dragons have never been to war."

"There are also unclaimed dragons," He added,

"Seasmoke still resides in Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing in the Dragonmont, still riderless. Three more wild dragons to add over."

Then, his violet eyes turned to her brother,

"Maybe another three? What do you think, Ser Aeras?"

Her brother's brow twitched, almost unnoticed but given the hours spent with him she could tell.

Aeras turned to them,

" What say you ?"

Vorondyr swallowed hard, his hand grew colder in her grasp.

Vaella felt hundred eyes staring down at her, but she kept her stance firm, and her eyes locked at her brother.

" We are here to retrieve you ." She said

" We are not here for war ."

Aeras' jaws tensed.

Nevertheless, she continued,

" But you are the oldest, the leader of our pack, and what you wish, is ours to carry out ."

He glanced down for a moment, nodding slowly as the message she sent sank in,

We will do as you say .

"I hope, Ser Saneiros," A man spoke up, she had not known him, but somehow he knew Aeras.

"That you do not forget whose shelter you took refuge in for the past two moonturns."

Vorondyr gasped, his eyes flashed hard for mere heartbeat.

She tensed up, eyes flickered to the subject of the jab.

Aeras cocked his brows, chin lifting up as he smiled,

"Of course I do not, My Lord."

Vaella bit her bottom lips.

"But, pray tell," He strides forward, slow pace reminded her of how a viper laid low in the grass before lounging onto its victim.

"Have I resided in your house? Have I set foot there for a single hour since I have been here?"

Silence is the answer.

He nodded in understanding, lips twitching into a smile - more of a smirk for her.

"Then you, My Lord, are no host of mine, no?" His head tilted to the side, eyes glaring dangerously,

"And I hope you do not forget that said hosts who generously let me stay at their residence are standing right before you, and that you should address them first before coming at me, who is under their very protection ."

The man's face fell into a grimace, and he stormed up to meet her brother.

"Why you-"

Vaella's pace was fast when she slid herself between them almost suddenly as the conversation escalated, her extended arm drawing a space between them.

She stared him up and down, shaking her head with the slightest movement to warn him not to go further.

He glared back at her, teeth gritting,

"The talk of men is no business for women. Back off and hide behind your coward of a brother, girl ."

Her lips twitched, glancing back at her brother,

Permission to kill , she pleaded with her eyes.

Enough is enough, and neither her brother nor her would endure such treatment further.

He look at her, a smirk upon his lips when he rested his hand on her shoulder,

" Be gentle, we have enough blood in the castle today ."

She groaned, fury boiling in the pit of her stomach,

" This is so boring ."

When her boots make its way towards lord whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was, his face paled.

"Wh-"

With a single motion, she bent herself backwards, hands resting firmly on the stone floor as her legs sprung up to untense the strings of her back, the point of her boots made a satisfying sound of contact with his chin, followed by his cry.

He fell down unconscious as she landed her feet back on the ground and straightened herself back up again.

The room fell into silence.

Her eyes glared at each and every person around the map table, the message is clear,

We will not be forced to make a choice .

Distantly, a dragon's growl could be heard.

She took one last look at Aeras and walked back to Vorondyr, her face so tense she thought for a moment it was made of stone.

It was Rhaenyra who broke the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Ser Aeras," She said, voice calm.

"What will you decide?"

He rested his eyes on the queen,

"As I told you before, Your Grace. I always pay my debt, if those I owe are patient enough."

Silence came again, as if the whole room was holding its breath to hear the answer.

Rhaenyra stared, her fingers clasped over her abdomen.

Aeras glanced at them in a heartbeat, then back at her,

"There are only two conditions. Two , only."

"And that is?" She inquired, almost immediately after.

He sucked his breath,

"First; my sister and my cousin are mine to command. No one will hold power over them except me. Second; when things get ugly I will send them back home immediately, the war in Westeros is none of their burden, and they owe nothing in this."

The Queen thinned her lips, nodding,

"I understand. It is settled, then."

"Sixteen dragons on our side." Daemon said,

"Against four."

The Queen plans to send ravens to the houses to persuade them to her side, but Jacaerys suggests they go on dragonback instead.

So far, there are no signs of bloodshed. And Vaella is quite surprised that after all the chaos, Rhaenyra still remained calm and tried to pull on the political strings first while other men around her were literal hellhounds, thirsting to shred down their enemies by dragonfire.

There are the North, the Vale, the Riverrun and the Stormlands. The letters are to be delivered to remind them of the oath they swore to her twenty years ago.

Everything is settled when Aeras spoke up,

"I'll send my sister with your son, Your Grace."

She shifted her eyes off the metal figurines on the map, landing them on his face.

Rhaenyra blinked,

"Which one?"

"The young Prince Lucerys." He said,

"My sister needs to get used to the routes, and he could use a company."

She think about it for a moment, then nodded,

"Very well, Ser Aeras."

He shot a look at her,

You heard it .

Vaella bit the corner of her lip, humming as an answer.

Vorondyr would be staying at Dragonstone, and Aeras will go with Daemon to the Riverrun.

She went to her chambers, opening her bag and pulled out a long object shrouded with a layer of thick cloth.

She unknotted the ropes binding the folds together and rolled the sides out, revealing a white long-handled scythe.

She ran her fingers over the carvings, shaven dragonbone smooth under her touch in contrast with the sharpness of the blade made of Valyrian steel. Another small bag was attached to the shroud, made of leather and filled with daggers.

She draped the black cloak across and over her shoulders, sitting down in front of the mirror and grabbed a stone and a flask filled with pale, pearly liquid from the hidden pockets of her bag, and started running the stone over the blade of her scythe.

Vorondyr entered as she finished brandishing all the weapons she carried, and started pouring the liquid over a random towel from one of the corners of her chamber and rub ith over all those blades.

" And this is the girl who says she's not here for war, rubbing venoms of the ice dragons onto her hundred blades ." He japed and arranged her cloak, his hands reached for her braid and unbind it as she started sheathing the daggers one by one and positioned them onto various spots over her body.

" Better safe than sorry ." She chuckled, laying down the venom-stained towel.

Though it had mild effects on her Saneiros heritage, it works pretty well with others, spreading effects like that of a frostbite over the body in less than twelve hours, resulting in losing of limbs and eventually, closing the airways of its victims, ending in death.

" I do not know what lies ahead, but I can prepare for it, in case something goes horribly wrong ."

"Mmhmm." Her cousin combed her hair neat, lightly braid it from the top of her skull.

" I spoke with the Princess Rhaenys ."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows raised,

" And what did she say ?"

" Something about the Lord of Storm's End's weakness for honor ." He hummed as he made his way down her hair, violet eyes dimmed and seemed to be calculating something.

She saw those eyes before. When he summarized something in his mind.

Vaella scoffed,

" Shoot, Vor ."

He exhaled,

" Truthfully, I don't think reminding him of his father's oath would do anything more than irritate him ."

"Mmhmm." She wrapped her scythe back in its shroud and secured it with a leather rope.

" So I have to be vigilant for the rejection, and if possible, persuade him myself. Is that what you wanted to suggest ?"

" I am sure your diplomatic skills will come to use there ." He said.

She sighed,

" Well, maybe this exercise would lessen Kēpa's fury when we return home . I'll try my best, and hopefully things won't go south ."

Vorondyr chuckled softly.

She felt warm arms enveloping over her neck as he bent down and wrapped the limbs around her, his head resting on her shoulders, their cheeks pressed together.

" Tread very carefully, Vae ." He muttered,

" This is a very different place from our own, it is not an assignment to be redone. We came together and we will leave together, along with our lēkia. Don't go where I can't follow ."

The end of his sentence saw his voice shaky, she held a wrist that draped over her collarbone, rubbing his cold skin.

Vorondyr always got cold-handed when he felt unsteady.

She meet his eyes through the mirror, whispering back,

" You take care too, Vor, I can't go rogue without my loyal sidekick of a favorite cousin ."

He laughed and placed a kiss on her temple.

Vaella arrived at Dragonmont early, checking the steadiness of her saddle and binding the scythe into the sheath attached at the side of it, just below where her leg would rest when Lucerys and Jacaerys walked in.

"Jace," She greeted him, then turned to his brother,

"My Prince."

"Lady Saneiros." The boy greeted back.

Jace approached her, holding her wrist for a moment,

"Good luck, and please look after my brother."

She smiled back, patting the glove over his hand,

"I will. Good luck to you too."

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but a shriek interrupted.

They turned to look at a dragon with green scales and red membranes, its size was smaller than Antaemas, but still capable of saddling and carrying a single person.

"Oh, stop it!" Jace groaned back, flustered, before turning to her.

"That's my dragon, Vermax. He's a brat sometimes."

"Weren't all our dragons are?" She laughed.

When he turned to leave, Vaella recalled one thing and she called for him.

"Jace!"

He turned, eyebrows raised.

She strided over, taking out the necklace she hid inside her coat and put it onto him.

"It's an amulet." Vaella explained as he looked down at the pendant made of a fang in the center of the silver chain.

"A dragonfang is considered capable of protection in my land. We Saneiroses wore one each."

"But isn't it for your protection?" He stuttered, surprised.

She shook her head,

"You need it more than I do. I can make myself a new one anytime I want."

When he seemed to protest again, Vaella tucked his arm,

"You should go now, fly safe."

She walked back to Lucerys who had finished his check-ups and was talking silently to his dragon.

He had dark curly locks, more curly than his brother, and darker brown eyes with freckles scattered over his childly-soft skin.

A boy too young for war.

"A beautiful dragon you got here." She smiled as he turned back to look at her.

"Oh," He laughed nervously,

"This is Arrax."

Vaella looked at the dragon with pearly white scales and pointed her chin to her dragon,

"That is Sovarys, she's mine."

"She's beautiful." He commented, those dark eyes under the dark curls glimmered and his shoulders relaxed.

"Why thank you, My Prince." She chuckled,

"Are you nervous?"

Lucerys licked his chapped lips, nodding slightly,

"I never met him before, Lord Borros, I don't know what to do."

She hummed in her throat,

"Guess what? I don't know what to do either."

His eyes turned onto hers.

Vaella laughed,

"It's alright. Just let it flow naturally, I'll be right behind you."

He seemed to smile timidly, and then look at the orange-tinted horizon above the sea up ahead,

"Shall we leave now?"

She smiled at him assuringly,

"Yes, we shall."

Chapter Text

eleven

lucerys

Storm's End stands high, proud, steady and intimidating in the dark clouds looming around.

Lucerys swallowed, ignoring the loud thumps inside his chest and tucked the reins in his hands, motioning Arrax to land.

They arrived at the door of the castle when the skies turned dark.

The wind swept his dark curls into his face as he slipped down his dragon and landed on his feet.

It was cold.

The storm will rage soon.

He tried to sink deeper into the little warmth left in his black and red cloak.

Thunder roared up above, white flashes running through the stormy sky, and he heard a loud roar echoing back.

A roar not possible to come from nature.

A roar of a dragon. A big, big, dragon.

He turned around, only to find a moving enormous shadow in the rumbling lightning, raising its head and growling, almost seeming like a living mountain.

Vhagar .

His blood ran cold, knowing too damn well what she brought.

His dark eyes turned around, almost desperately.

Vaella is nowhere to be found, probably finding a space big enough to land her dragon.

He couldn't find it in him to go ahead and meet the Lord of the Stormlands first.

He should wait for her.

After a few moments of agonizing silence that seemed to drag on for eternity, she walked past the arched entrance of the stone walls and straight to him, black cloak flying with the force of the wind behind her.

Luke released the breath he just noticed he's been holding.

"What's the matter?" She whispered when she saw his face, touching his arm gently. Perhaps the fear was displayed a bit too openly.

He took a shaky breath,

"My uncle is here."

Her sharp brows knitted, demeanor changed almost suddenly into a calm and collected one.

"Which one?"

"The one who I took his eye."

"Ah," That's all she said, nodding silently.

Then, she smiled,

"We have to be brave, then."

He sighed,

"How can I be brave when I'm afraid?"

Vaella looked at him from a head higher, amethyst eyes glinting like a real gem in the torch lights,

"That's the moment you are most brave, My Prince."

He fidgeted, and she shifted to walk behind him,

"I will be with you," She assured, voice soft and soothing against the strong winds,

"No harm is to come upon you, I swore on the honor of my father."

A shrill of comforting calmness ran down him as he slowly fixed his posture, holding his head high and walking towards the guards.

"I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon," He proclaimed,

"I bring a message to Lord Borros, from the Queen."

The guards nodded and turned their backs, leading him into the hall of the Storm Kings.

He felt Vaella's warmth behind him, trailing behind silently like a shadow.

In other situations, he might have found it scary. But somehow, right now, he felt a bit safer.

He calmed his heavily-beating heart, straightening his spine.

He is a prince, heir of Driftmark, son of the Queen.

The wooden door, huge and strong, flung close behind them. The sound rattled into him as he stepped further onto the cold floor.

His eyes sharp, his breath steady, his mind clear and calm.

Luke is a dragon, and he would act like one.

It's harder to think, to even breathe properly under the eyes-eye of his younger uncle.

Aemond stood there, blending almost entirely into the shadow had it not been the pale of his skin and the silver of his hair standing out, looking at him with the unreadable single eye.

Luke feels like he's suffocating, this hall is killing him.

"Remind me of my father's oath?" Lord Borros Baratheon bellowed from his stone throne.

He looked furious.

Luke tried calming himself down, but found his shoulders flinching at the loud voice of the Lord of Storm's End.

"King Aegon at least came with an offer, my swords and banners for a place in his small council!"

His eyes twitched, shifting to his uncle.

Aemond gave him a sinister smile.

"If I do as your mother bids, which one of the positions will I be presented upon, boy?"

Luke shuddered,

"My Lord, I do not know if my mother has completed her council yet."

Be brave, be strong .

Borros look at him, storm in his eyes,

"So you come with empty hands."

Shit. Shit. Shit .

"Go home, pup, and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

His shoulders slump, defeated.

But then came another sound,

"I am sure Her Grace had no meaning in that way, My Lord, to view you as her hound."

The shadow that came with him had spoken.

Vaella had her hands clasped behind her, eyes humble, but steady and still.

When Borros looked surprised in silence, she tilted her head up, her shoulder squared, looking every inch a dragon.

"I believe she just wanted to tell you to join her alliance, as your father had sworn many years past."

"My father has long passed from this world." The Lord replied, voice sterned.

"Then, My good Lord, I have a small question for you;" Vaella sounded like white snow on top of the mountains. Soft, cold, flexible.

"The day he bent his knee to her, did he pledge with himself only, or both himself and the house Baratheon?"

She paused, knowing the answer already by the look on the faces of the maesters and the Lord himself.

"House Baratheon under your father, and house Baratheon under you, is the same house Baratheon of Storm's End, am I correct?" She shoot glances to the sides,

"So, even if you don't swear loyalty to her, house Baratheon of Storm's End had. And by that, with or without your say, house Baratheon will follow Queen Rhaenyra as her banners."

Her black boots strides forward, her silver braid swaying as she moves closer and closer to the throne.

Luke thinks of the scene in the map room, where Aeras defended himself from another lord.

They have the same intimidating posture, a viper slithering onto their opponents.

"I have heard of you, My Lord, they say that you are honorable, and wise. They praised your great-great-grandsire Lord Orys too, some even said you're like him in many aspects." She stood in front of the stairs leading up to him.

Her voice lowered,

"'Tis a shame, I saw none of what they sing their songs of in you."

Lucerys' breath hitched as Borros' face darkened.

But Vaella is not finished,

"My Lord, you talk of your place in the small council and your uplifted value, but you will go down in history books as the oathbreaker." Her tone laced with softly veiled venom, chilling to the bones.

Luke didn't see her expression, as her back was turned to him, but he could definitely tell she had carved Borros' damned arrogance out his chest and trampled it bits and pieces with nothing but her tongue.

"You could have been Lord Borros the Honorable, the Queen's greatest general. You could have been hoisted higher than any member of the Queen's circle, by doing her a favor of joining forces. And yet," she dropped her neck down, shaking her head with disappointment,

"Yet you choose to betray your father's word, his very honor. Your house 's honor."

Her voice was not loud, but it resonated through the halls. Etched into the ridges and the grooves of the stone pillars and the impenetrable walls and up the enormous dome above their heads. Deep into the Lord’s conscience.

After a sickening silence, Borros spoke,

"Who are you, wench ?"

Her jaws twitched in his sight, and he thinks she's smiling.

"I am but an escort of the young Prince, My Lord." She said, bowing her head slightly, if not mockingly.

"And thus I can just give you my humble opinion."

Lucerys almost choked on his breath.

If that was just a humble opinion , he couldn't imagine what kind of chaos would ensue had she given him a straight one.

Vaella turned on her heels, returning to his side in a mere heartbeat.

"Let us leave, My Prince." She voiced for all to hear.

"Storm's End holds nothing to us, as they treated us nothing to them. The North and the Vale are more valuable and trustworthy . I see no point of lingering here while we could forge a much more important alliance."

Luke looked into her glinting violet eyes, the pressure he felt is now gone.

He nodded, taking one last glance at his one-eyed uncle who stands brows furrowing to the side of the hall, then to the Lord,

"I shall take your answer to the Queen, My Lord." He felt his voice more stable, and his heart cried in joy.

His cape twirled and trailed behind as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" A familiar voice called.

Aemond .

"My Lord Strong." He said. There’s no warmth in his voice, no familiarity that was once present in their younger years.

Lucerys must have shuddered, for now Vaella is right behind him and shielded his back.

He almost turned back to face his nemesis when she tucked his arm,

"Your name is Lucerys Velaryon ." Is all she said in a rushed whisper.

He thinned his lips, balled his unsteady hands, and walked away.

Lucerys Velaryon is his name, not Lucerys Strong .

"Coward!" Aemond growled behind.

"Don't look back," Vaella gritted her teeth,

"We're done here."

He gave a quick nod, his pace rapid as he made it out the hall.

It was a downpour outside. Took him only a few moments to realize he was already wet.

Luke sprinted to Arrax, who crawled to him almost immediately with a stressful groan, maybe sensing his fear.

He turned around.

The lightning struck down, lighting up the outline of Storm's End.

Just a flash, and he felt his heart sink.

Vhagar is gone.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath.

He turned to Vaella,

"My uncle's dragon is gone. He is in the sky. It seems he'll be after me."

"That fast?" She furrowed her brows.

Vaella clicked her tongue, looking around the storm for a moment before resting her hand on his shoulder,

"You're coming with me."

"What?"

"Sovarys is faster than your Arrax. If your uncle is coming for you, we must flee, do we not?"

"I'm not leaving my dragon." He said stubbornly.

She chuckled, wet silver hair plastered along her frame,

"I'm not saying we'll leave him. Call him to fly after us if you'd like, but you are not departing on him, not in this weather, not in this situation."

Her grip on him tightens,

"I promise your brother to take care of you, and I am no oathbreaker."

Luke sucked a breath through his teeth, turning to his dragon.

" Focus ! Pay attention, Arrax !" He patted the pearly scales on his neck, High Valyrian strung out his tongue.

" Be calm ! Listen ! Obey !"

His eyes flickered over the sky again, then he told Arrax,

" You will come after me ."

Vaella rushed to her dragon, its amethyst scales dimmed in the shadow of the thunder, shaded into almost greyish violet.

" Sovarys, this is Luke . He's flying with us ."

As she pressed her hand to Sovarys' snout, the dragon's silver eyes peered into Luke's. She craned her neck over and sniffed him, before letting out a soft, playful purr and shaking her head.

" Oi, no playing ." Her rider sneered,

" We're in a rush here, girl. Be calm and be focused ."

She climbed into the saddle first, then pulled him up to settle in front of her.

Luke blinked as Vaella draped a strap of leather over his wrist and buckled it tightly.

"In case the whole thing escalates," She said,

"You won't fall."

With her arms caged around him, she pulled the reins and shouted,

" Sōves, Sovarys !"

Chapter Text

twelve

vaella

The rain fell onto her like needles dropped from the sky. Sharp, unwavering, stings.

Vaella dimmed her eyes, brows furrowed as she navigated her routes out of this godforsaken land.

Fuck, she should have brought another riding gear that had a high fabric collar to cover her face and a hood to shield her eyes.

The pearlescent wings of Arrax are fluttering close behind, as Vaella flew his master back home.

Lucerys clutches onto the front of the saddle, he says nothing, but his pale face gives away all she had to know.

"Be calm, Little Prince." She rubbed his arm,

"Your dragon can sense your panic. Anything could happen if a dragon so young like one of yours loses control."

He inhales sharply, and almost invisibly, nodded.

Now she knows why the wretched place is called the Stormlands.

Vaella cursed under her breath when a gust of wind almost yanked her off her saddle, she tightened the grip on the handle and her legrests.

Up in the sky, she saw nothing but dark clouds looming all around her like a thick veil of grey.

And it's absolutely irritating.

But a dark, enormous shadow is now above them, spreading its wings while giving out a powerful roar.

Her mind worked quickly.

" Naejot !" She shouted,

" Sīmonagon , Sovarys!"

Her mount tilted her head upwards, racing up the sky as she commanded.

Vaella quickly told the boy to clutch the saddle firmly, and she herself held onto the handles as she felt the force of the earth pulling her backwards.

Soon, Sovarys broke the storm clouds and ascended the clear, sunlit firmament.

It was all quiet, but her ears were open.

When she heard the winds parted, and something emerged, she told her dragon to fly lower.

A green dragon, so big it was the size of a mountain, swooped upon them with a sadistic laugh from its rider.

"I see you!"

Vaella has now concluded that Lucerys' uncle is a madman.

She let out an annoyed groan, holding the boy in place as Sovarys dodged attempts after attempts to rip her apart with that dragon's long, razor-sharp teeth.

As the large mount above twirled to chase downwards, its head and back shielded by its long, thick tail, she seized the moment.

" Ropakagon !"

Sovarys dived down the white clouds, surfacing back into the storm beneath.

The reflections of the sun on the above clear clouds would shield them from being spotted, if they stay low enough to not get straight back up there.

Vaella drove her dragon back into the route.

"What is that ?"

"Vhagar." Luke breathed,

"She's the largest dragon in the world."

She pursed her lips,

Orvax, the two-century old dragon of her elder sister, Rhaessa, is the same size, if not bigger.

She had flown with Rhaessa many times.

It won't be as much of a trouble like she'd expected.

Behind her, Vhagar roared.

She glanced back, counting the distance, then flew down the narrows of two big stones in the water, blocking the way of the larger dragon.

The entrance is small, and some rocks that fell out from the contact Sovarys had made flew straight at her.

Vaella slammed her eyes and mouth shut, her hands shielded over Lucerys' face to keep any sharp objects from cutting, or worse, blinding him.

She heard a knock on her forehead that yanked her whole head backwards, and sucked her breath as she pushed it back.

Vaella could hear the ropes of the reins cry in agony as they were being pulled back, sustaining Vhagar from crashing into the hard walls.

The green dragon shrieked again.

Lucerys trembled.

She rubbed his bound hand,

"Breathe, Little Prince."

Up in the roaring thunder and pouring rain, his uncle bellows in High Valyrian,

" You owe me a debt, taōba !"

The boy with brown locks muttered something like it's the eye thing over again under his breath.

Then came the maniacal laugh in the rain.

Fucking lunatic.

" Lykirī , My Prince." She kept whispering when she saw him tensed up and his dragon stirred in the air uncomfortably.

They could flee Vhagar, but they are no match for her in combat.

" Aderves, Sovarys ." She bit her bottom lip.

" Get us out of here ."

Vaella is so done with this fucking chase. She had just thrown every insults she could think of in a more polite version in the face of Borros Baratheon. She's tired, she's dizzy, she needs her bed.

Sovarys soared out her shelter of stones, followed closely by Arrax.

From the corners of her eyes, she could see the she-dragon's huge, tattered wings relentlessly following behind.

She considered using her dragon's venom to beat Vhagar, but refrained when she recalled Rhaenyra's politics.

The first blood must not be on the Black's hands, especially not on hers, a stranger from another kingdom who could drag her whole house into the war they had nothing in part of.

So she did all she could do.

She said another aderves .

"Hold tight," Vaella gripped the leather reins.

" Kostion lēdys , riña !"

Sovarys gave her a stressed growl, gliding forward.

The winds became stronger, whipping every corner of their attires with droplets of water. She could see the hem of the dark shroud of the clouds, right within her grasp.

"And now you're fleeing again!" Vhagar's rider shouted as they left him behind, getting out of the rain and into open sky, where they could fly faster than in the storm.

"Very well!" He barked, enraged,

"Go back into your mother's skirt! I see now that more than a bastard, you are a craven!"

But his curses got submerged into the sound of the thunder, and soon, they heard him no more.

Seeing Dragonstone lifts the weight off her chest almost immediately.

Sovarys landed with a thud . The claws above the curve of her wings dug into the ground of the grass field behind the castle as she let out a growl.

Vaella unfastened the strap on the boy's arm.

With damp cloaks, she saw Lucerys down her saddle first, then staggered after him.

"My Prince!" Ser Steffon quickly came to his side, holding his shaking body up.

Vaella panted, pressing both her hands to the sides of her hip, chest heaving up and down. She turned to Sovarys, burying her exhausted body against her crystal scales,

" Kirimvose , riña . Nyke sȳrī aus dohaeragon ."

"My Lady." A voice called her, and she turned to see Ser Erryk Cargyll.

"Ser Erryk." She breathed, pushing herself closer against her dragon and inhaled the feeling of being safe for a moment, then wrapping her arms over the Silver-eyed's long neck, rubbing back and forth.

" Aeragon . Jorilagon ." She whispered, planting a brief kiss onto the space between a side of Sovarys' eye socket and her jaw, like she always did to compliment her girl.

With a satisfied shriek and a rubbing nudge into her, pale blue membranes between her wings spread out and she took to the sky again with Arrax, heading towards her stable in the Dragonmont.

When she started walking towards Ser Erryk, she felt the world wobble.

"My Lady?"

She raised a hand to tell him she’s alright and touched her temple, breathing in and out slowly as she ducked her head down.

Then, she look up at him,

"Good Ser, can you escort me to the Queen?"

"Yes, My Lady." In a blink of an eye, he is beside her. Providing brief support as she treads up the ancestral seat of house Targaryen.

Vaella grabs his arm while ascending the stone stairs, and into the map room.

Shit, her knees hurt from gripping the saddle too hard.

"Vae!" She heard Vorondyr gasping from the corner and rushed to take her from the Queensguard.

"Lady Saneiros." Rhaenyra greeted, Lucerys held close in her arms. She looked stunned for a moment when she examined her, and turned to the side immediately.

"Call the maesters. Quick."

"Please, sit, My Lady." Erryk grabbed a chair and spun it facing towards her.

"Thank you, Ser Erryk."

" How's things going ?" She asked her cousin.

He shook his head,

" Nothing much, aside from you and the young Prince drenched in rain show up with blood on your face ."

" What ?"

Vorondyr twitched his lips, pointing his chin at her head.

Vaella took off her gloves, tracing along her cheek.

Dark red liquid paints her skin bloody.

She trailed up, wincing at the throbbing pain on the side of her forehead.

It was a slice, with raw flesh exposed from under the cracked skin, a bump formed around it indicating the bruise and swelling.

Her cousin hummed,

" There you go , feel that ?"

" Fuck ." She breathed.

That damned rock.

The middle-aged man in white robe and a metal chain hanging around his neck entered, walking straight to her side.

"My Lady, if I may."

She shrunk away, glancing at the Queen.

"This is Maester Gerardys." Rhaenyra explained,

"He'll help you with your wound."

Vaella chewed her lips, exhaled slowly, and stayed in her seat for the man's wrinkled hands to examine her.

"There's a gash on your forehead, My Lady." He said,

"And maybe some light bruises on the leg. Your Ladyship's muscle might be sour on the morrow, but a simple salve will do to heal you. Your head, however, requires a more complicated solution. I will have to stitch the skin up to prevent any filth from entering your blood, and you might experience high fever as a result of inflammation."

She thinned her lips, nodding,

"Thank you, maester."

As he prepared, Rhaenyra speak to her,

"I hope everything went well, at Storm's End?"

Vaella tucked her lips, shaking her head,

"Things go…different then planned, to say the least, Your Grace."

The Queen's brow knitted.

She shifted in her seat, sighed, and yelped silently as Gerardys cleaned her wound with his damp cloth.

"When we arrived," She began,

"The young Prince's uncle was already present."

"Aemond." Lucerys said,

"And Vhagar. He reached Lord Borros before I did."

Rhaenyra's breath hitched,

"And?"

"The Greens offered him a place at Aegon's small council." The boy explained.

"He seemed to be already under them."

His mother blinked, her fair face slowly being tainted with fear.

"He rejected us," Vaella clenched her fists around the armrests as the maester started sticking metal hook-like needle into the hem of the crack, pulling on the sensitive flesh.

"He said the Lord of Storm's End is not a dog that Your Grace can whistle up at need to set against your foes."

Rhaenyra seemed startled as she continued,

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but reminding him of his father's oath proves to be a wrong move. He is not pleased at all, and he already got a better offer from the other side."

The Queen pursed her lips, nodding,

"And what did you do?"

Vaella eyed away.

Oh, so I called him a traitor and a needy desperate cunt and bla bla bla .

No, not a good idea.

"Lady Saneiros stepped in to help me." Lucerys' voice broke the silence, standing beside his mother.

"She reminded Lord Borros it was his house that swears loyalty to you, not him, whether he liked it or not, house Baratheon is under you."

The conversation continued, but she had almost lost herself between the lines when Gerardys flicked his hand. She clamped her jaw shut as she felt the thread slide through her skin.

" Will it leave you a scar ?" Vorondyr perched on the top of the chair, looking over her tensed face.

" Mayhaps, " She murmured,

" Mayhaps not, I don't care ."

" A shame ." He chimes,

" Your pretty face is the only thing you inherited from your lady mother ."

" Oh, shut up ." Vaella jerked her lips.

After an excruciatingly prolonged moment, Gerardys leave her be and wiped the damp cloth over her stitches one last time, cleaning the access blood on her face.

"The swelling is from the concussion." He explained,

"So far, there is naught to worry. A rest would take the dizziness away. But if Your Ladyship has not recovered from nausea in two days or suffered a headache that is not from the bruising, please inform me in haste."

She nodded,

"I will, maester. Thank you."

She reached for Vor's hand, in which he clasped back and helped her up.

" I want to sleep ." She told him.

He cocked his head,

" Yeah, some rest will do you good ."

As he took her to her chamber, the Queen approached.

"Lady Saneiros," She said, taking her hand.

"I wish to express my thanks for defending Luke and bringing him home safely. I had no idea what he would do without your help."

"It is what I was tasked to do, Your Grace." Vaella replied.

"And I hope you would not hold your grudge against me for what I said to Lord Baratheon."

"Nonsense," The Queen's clutch tightened in assurance.

"If I were you I'd have done worse. If Daemon were you it would be a disaster. You have declared them for what they are; traitors, and escape the claws of the largest dragon in the world. I could not say thank you enough."

"It was my honor, Your Grace." She bowed her head, then added, too tired to stay in the war-hungering atmosphere of the men in the room any longer,

"With your permission, I would retire to my chambers to rest."

"Please do, My Lady." Rhaenyra smiled, rubbing her hand.

"We will see you at supper."

Chapter Text

thirteen

jacaerys

The Eyrie is high up in the sky, emerging from the grasps of the Mountains of the Moon. Its white towers stood tall as if imposing a challenge to the gods, and the clouds and hazes surrounded its base, looking almost like the lands of the fairies in the books Jacaerys had read as a child.

He holds onto the handles of Vermax's saddle, circling around to observe the architecture below. A flock of falcons that swarms in the air got startled by the flapping of his dragon and scattered away.

Jace shudders at the cold breeze, tilting his head upwards to inhale the fresh air of the high sky as his eyes flutter shut.

Vermax screeched, rejoicing at his rider's calmness, a feeling he had been lacking for many days.

The way to the Vale is long and dangerous. Jace continually prays to the gods that no dragons of the Greens would find him mid-air, where he would be the most vulnerable.

Daeron's Tessarion is around their age, and just as Vermax is able to be ridden, she is at fighting size. Nonetheless, an encounter with his youngest uncle would be the least stressful situation he had anticipated.

Aegon's Sunfyre, however, is another story.

His eldest uncle had this uncanny close bond with his golden dragon, the most beautiful creature of his kind. If they attack, it would be hard to dodge those two-bodies-one-soul duo.

Helaena and her Dreamfyre won't be anywhere out of King's Landing, that is almost a sure fact. It would take a catastrophic event to see her ride her pale blue dragon out into the realm.

But amongst all the dragons he'd expected he could face, Vhagar is the most despairing situation.

He could fight Tessarion, or fend off Sunfyre, escape Dreamfyre perhaps, but Jace stands absolutely no chance against the she-dragon of the late Visenya Targaryen.

Aemond had a bitter history with him and his brother Luke. Though he had never attacked them physically ever since that incident in Driftmark, Jace is smart enough to know that the one-eyed was just waiting for a right moment, and should the time come he would not hesitate to order his enormous dragon to feast on them. Jace could see his uncle laughing while doing all of that, too.

Seven hells, Aemond could even be laying low along the route, waiting for them to approach, then just attack with a shout surprise, nephew! and hunts them down with Vhagar's razor-sharp, five-feet long teeth.

Jace flies with anxiousness and nervousness resting in his belly, the only thing that could relieve him of the unsettling emotions is the dragonfang Vaella had given him before he departed Dragonstone.

His heart would beat lighter when he touched the pendant, running the tip of his bare fingers along the carved embellishments along the base of the fang. It was designed into a pattern of an ornate vine, with flowers blooming in varied manners along the stalk. The linings along the bottom of the vines were carved further into a few delicate lines of dragonscales, and his blood would rush to his face a little when he rubbed it and think of the silver dragonscales on the shoulder of Vaella's leather coat where he once laid his head on.

He hoped the mission at Storm's End went well.

Now, Jace peered down to see many people gathering at the deck above the highest flat-topped tower of the castle, and he knew he'd have to show some of his power in order to gain respect.

So, he pulled Vermax's reins and ordered him to swoop down.

His dragon's green scales are in contrast with the red membranes stretched by spikes along his neck, they shine in the sun like precious emeralds as Vermax lowered his head and cut through the air.

There is a scream echoing in the deck.

Just before they hit the white marble crenulations, Jace pulled the reins tight against his chest.

Vermax gave a loud screech, spreading his wings wide and glides up the sky just a few feet above the spectators.

That captured the awe from the people below.

He guides his mount around the nearest tower for a round, then descends onto the wall of the deck with a loud growl.

He dropped Vermax's reins and swung his legs atop the saddle, sliding down the slope of his flank to the marble deck beneath them with a thud.

Jace straightened his back, squared his shoulders, raised his chin, inhaled deeply before he declared,

"I am Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. I bring the message from the Queen to the Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale."

A figure step forward,

"I welcome you to the Vale, My Prince." A woman around his mother's age, with dark brown locks curling to meet her shoulders and beyond, said. Her eyes a shade of deep blue sea, and her face filled with serenity that matched the atmosphere of the Eyrie.

"I am Jeyne. Lady of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, and Head of the house Arryn."

"Lady Jeyne," Jace nodded,

"It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The honor is mine, My Prince." She replied with a soft, clever smile.

"Please, let me host you with my humble castle. This way."

With a gesture, she walked ahead of him. Her blue and white gown twirled above the matching white marble floor.

Jace turned to his dragon, running his gloved hand along the length of Vermax's neck,

" Ilinītsos , Vermax." He whispered,

" Kirimvose ."

With a happy purr, Vermax takes to the sky.

His brown eyes watched as the beast spread its wings out and roamed the air freely until he disappeared into the clouds, then turned to follow Lady Jeyne into the halls of the Eyrie.

"I understand the need of allies of Her Grace, the Queen." Jeyne said finally, after a long moment of reading the letter he brought.

Jace turned his face to look at her.

"But do tell me, My Prince," The Lady of the Vale rolled the parchment back into the same manner it was delivered and handed it to her secretary who stands next to her weirwood throne.

"If I joined your forces, what would I gain?"

He is now in the High Hall, standing in front of the presence of the Warden of the East herself. The blue-veined white marble illuminated under the light of the candles along the narrow, arched windows.

He arched up a brow,

"If I am free to marry, I'd have offered myself, My Lady. Fortunately, my younger brother Joffrey is still unbetrothed, if the Lady of the Vale wishes to take him as her husband I'd follow her bids."

She laughed,

"Why, My Prince, you had quite a taste of humor."

Jace smirked,

"So I've been told."

Jeyne smiled, and it faintly reminded him of his mother's. Maybe it was some kind of an Arryn trait, passing down through generations.

"Come closer, My Prince." She motioned him to walk up to the stairs.

"Surely you must understand, the Vale could fend off all the troops in the Seven Kingdoms. But dragons? I'm afraid we can't. I really wanted to help you, but I hope you do know that no matter what happens, I'll have to put my household and my people first."

"I understand, My Lady." Jace clasped his hand at the small of his back,

"And I wish no damage in whatever manner be done to your lands."

His mind races quick as he licked his lips,

"What do you demand, My Lady?"

The corner of her mouth tucked upwards, her blue eyes glinting,

"Perhaps I could require the services of the dragonriders, My Prince."

He inhaled,

"I must confess, no adult dragonriders are available right now, for we were all tasked to fly through the realm to gain alliances." He ducked his head, and then looked up at her again,

"But if your Ladyship would be so kind, I would like to call here my brother Prince Joffrey Velaryon and my cousin Lady Rhaena Targaryen to attend to you as your wards. His dragon Tyraxes is still small, but he is growing."

A long silence engulfed the hall, Jacaerys' breath shallowed.

After a sickening lack of monologues and the small sounds of fire flicking the centers of the candles, Jeyne shifted in her seat.

She tilted her head to look at him, her face calm and collected.

Then, she smiled lightly,

"No matter big or small, a dragon is a dragon. House Arryn is honored to take the young Prince Joffrey and Lady Rhaena as wards."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Please inform the Queen that I'd be most grateful to join her alliance. House Arryn remembered its pledge, and will march to war under Her Grace's banners with pride."

The Vale, check.

"Now, Ser Elesham," She called, and a young knight stepped forward. He had brown curls that were kept in a bun and striking dark eyes.

"Would you escort the Prince to his chambers in the guest's quarters?"

"Yes, My Lady." He bowed and motioned Jace to follow him.

"My Prince, I am Ronnel Elesham. Please follow me."

"Pleased to meet you, Ser Elesham." He nodded and walked after, not before hearing the Lady's words,

"Rest well, My Prince." She said,

"Tonight we'll hold you a feast."

Jace raised his brows, then smiled,

"Thank you, My Lady."

He treaded through the marble corridor with Ronnel Elesham. The candles lit the archways as he looked around to observe the surroundings quietly.

"Ser Elesham," He called,

"Yes, My Prince?" The knight turned to respond.

"I heard that the views of the Eyrie are worth more than a thousand golds." Jace said,

"Mayhaps, in favor of someone who had been here for the first time, you could introduce me as to where I would indulge such enticing images?"

Ronnel blinked, then tilted his head before replying,

"There are many decks and towers within the castle, My Prince. I dare not to judge which places had more pretty views, but there's a balcony at the top of the tower in the east wing which displayed a full picture of the rising sun in the morning. It is my favorite spot."

Jace hummed,

"Very well. Would you be so kind as to guide me there after I finish settling into my new chamber?"

"As you wish, My Prince."

The knight left him as he entered the room and stood guarded at the doors.

He looked around, eyes following the blue veins in the white marble walls that lead up to the arched pillars under the dome ceiling. The windows are tall and also arched, and crenulated white birch plates were placed between the space. The bed was tucked into the wall, decorated with four posts that hoisted a canopy of Arryn blue silk embroidered with scattering silver stars. The candles flickered quietly in the silver candelabras along the pillars and tables, its warm golden light glowed softly, shedding away the cold loneliness and painting peaceful solace instead.

Jace untied his thick cloak and laid it onto the chair at the writing table. He took off his gloves and ran his hand along the smooth surface of the table, then to the windows, and to the bedposts.

He closed his eyes, inhaled the faint scent of perfume in the room.

He gets out, then motions for Ronnel to take him up the said tower.

His brown eyes darted along the path, memorizing the turns and the intersections as he followed the knight.

Soon, they ascended a flight of stairs and settled on the balcony at the highest floor of the tower.

"We've arrived, My Prince."

He nodded,

"Thank you, Ser Elesham."

The sound of his leather boot making contact to the smooth floor was rhythmic as he approached the rails made of intricately carved marble. It was late afternoon, so there are no views of sunrise yet. But he found Ronnel's statements about the place quite true. Thin haze veiled the air beneath them, creating the effect of a sea of clouds. And Jace knew right away that in the morning this balcony would do just right for him.

His hand snaked into the collar of his doublet, feeling the rope around his neck and pulled it out, tracing the pad of his fingers along the dragonscales of the fang all absent-mindedly as he peered out and looked at the courtyard of the castle down below.

Chapter Text

fourteen

jacaerys

A letter came when he had just arrived at his room after the feast in the halls of the Eyrie.

With a seal of his mother, Jace licked his lips as he tore it open.

He remembered the neat and flawless handwriting of his mother, how she would twist the bottom of the alphabets and loop them up into one, curvy, long line of ink.

What made Rhaenyra send him a message herself, at this quick rate?

He had just left for a few days, and had just reached his first destination. Surely there's nothing for him to be worried about.

He walked towards the middle of the room slowly, his brown eyes scanning the content until it landed on one sentence,

Your brother, Lucerys, went to Storm's End, where he encountered Aemond.

Oh no.

How could he forget the bitter feud between his family and their uncle's?

That fateful day, where there was no going back.

The sound of the blade unsheathing, the sickening slick drip of blood on the ground, Aemond's painful grunts and Rhaena's angry sobs still echoed into his ears to this day.

Jacaerys sucked his breath, his hands slowly tensed up as he read further,

It seems the lord Borros Baratheon had chosen his side, and unfortunately, it was not ours.

His heart pounded in his ears.

Aemond was there to offer a place in the small council for him. Luke left in a storm with Vhagar chasing him through the sky.

The coldness froze his blood and a shrill ran down from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

His fingers curled, crumpling the edges of the parchment.

Luke had a deep-rooted history with their younger uncle. He wasn't surprised that Aemond would go to great lengths to get his vengeance for half the world his brother had taken from him when he slashed the dagger across his eye and put it out forever.

Your brother was brave. And he was lucky. Lady Saneiros had him in her saddle and they escaped Vhagar's claws together. Her dragon is larger than Arrax and faster too. Luke came back safe and unscathed. The Lady, however, suffered a stone crashing into her head. Maester Gerardys had sewn the wound shut already, but internal injuries are yet to be confirmed.

Jace let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and collapsed onto his bed, ducking his head down while closing his eyes and calmed his heartbeats.

Thank the gods.

He then raised the letter in his clasp to look at the content once again.

His brother is alive.

But Vaella is hurt.

A picture came into his mind, of a face so beautiful it almost came out of a painting, with blood trickling down the side of her head, dying her silver hair red.

His previous plans in the painting room of Dragonstone came into his head,

We have dragons, He had said,

Send us.

It was his idea to send the dragonriders across the realm to deliver his mother's message.

It was his idea that sent Luke to Storm's End, to meet his archnemesis and barely make it out alive.

It was his idea that made Vaella risk her life, and now she is in pain, in the war she had absolutely no part in.

It was his doing.

Jace ran a hand through his combed dark brown locks, a habit he likes to do when he's stressed.

His fingers trembled, and his breath ragged.

He couldn't imagine if his brother lost his life in the storm. How could he face his mother after that?

And Vaella, too.

Guilt filled his chest as he banged his head against the wooden bedposts.

The seasoned roasted pheasants and grilled venison along with Arbor Red wine in his stomach gurgled, threatening to come out had it not been his clenched fists and his gritted teeth tensed himself up to take control of his own body.

Jace inhaled sharply, then slowly exhaled to calm himself down. His eyes snapped shut as he tried to relax his muscles.

A knock at the closed door pulled him back into the present.

"Who's there?"

"Ronnel Elesham, My Prince." A voice came through the wooden texture,

"I am to inform you the maids are here to prepare you a bath."

A breath came out of his nostrils, Jacaerys rolled the paper back into the manner it was delivered, then used his knuckles to push himself up,

"Let them in, thank you."

"Yes, My Prince."

A thought came unto him, and without stalling, he voiced out,

"Ser Elesham?"

"Yes, My Prince?"

"Bring me parchments and writing tools."

That must have took the knight off guard, for he went silent a few moments, and replied,

"I will, My Prince."

Jace sat at the end of the bed, watching, as the maids came in with a bronze tub and filled it with scorching hot water as he had ordered beforehand.

Dragons like heat, as the saying in his family goes.

He softly dismissed them before stripping and lowering himself into the bath.

The liquid is milky, Jace guessed it is from the effects of the oil the maids had poured in earlier. As he submerged into the scented water, he leaned the back of his head against the edge of the tub, thinking about his next destination.

Winterfell.

His fingers curled around the dragonfang pendant, scraping its vine patterns back and forth absent-mindedly.

Then, he thinked about the Greens.

They were lucky Aemond had already got married. Or else, his hand would prove to be a bigger problem than Vhagar.

A warrior he is, and a rider of the largest dragon too. Jace was grateful his uncle's grandfather sold–no–married him off to one of the houses in the Westerlands for some alliance before every chaos went down in their family.

Daeron would be a valuable pawn in the game his mother and grandsire played, but Jacaerys doubted he would easily agree to any marriage tossed into his face, if they would try to did what they did to Aemond again.

His youngest uncle is, if not, the most stubborn out of the three. Daeron always finds a way to carry out the will of his mother, all the while keeping his own motives and plans going.

It was like a mixture of Aegon, a headstrong twat who does things his own way, and Aemond, a dutiful child who follows orders by his mother like a sacred command from the gods.

All in all, Daeron is a fucking wild card.

Another knock at the door, Jacaerys turned his head,

"Yes?"

"Parchments with ink and a quill, My Prince." Ronnel answered from beyond the door.

Jace hummed in his throat,

"Come in."

The knight walked into the room,

"Where should I put them, My Prince?"

"On the table," He said,

"Thank you."

"At your service, My Prince."

After he went back to guard the doors, Jace took one last face dip into the warming water, then he got out of the tub.

Jace dried himself, putting on the nightclothes that the maids had draped over the chair for him. The linen was cool and lose against his skin as he ruffled his damp hair to make it dry faster, going to the writing table.

He sat down, his fingers grasping the quill and dipping the tip in the ink bottle, hovering over the clean paper.

Jace sucked in a breath, and started writing.

He climbed up the stairs of the tower in the east wing when the sun still hadn't risen properly.

Jace wrapped his arm around himself, rubbing the low temperature clinging onto the fabric away as a gust of cold wind hit him, swooping his hair out its place.

Ronnel Elesham, who had been escorting him, stood at the door of the balcony as he walked to the rails.

The sky was dark blue, with a tinge of purple. A golden glow illuminating the valley in the east made Jace lay his hand on top of the marble texture and peer out further into the fading darkness.

The Vale is a cold place, and Jace felt lucky he had changed into a more thick attire before coming to this place.

His brown eyes darted down, and he found himself surrounded by a sea of milky light mists, swarming about the tower as if it had emerged from the sky.

He reached out his hand, bathing his skin in the cold air as the sky got more and more golden.

Jace touched the pendant on his neck again, watching the sun slowly spread its sheen onto the dark sky, casting away the shadows of the night and declaring a new day.

"Gevie." He whispered, wasn't sure it is to the view in front of him, or to the owner of the dragonfang he's wearing.

The atmosphere gets warmer and warmer. Jace closed his eyes as the sunrays cast themselves upon his freezing cheeks, standing at the edge of the balcony.

A shriek came, and his lips curled into a smile.

There's a sound of an object cutting through the air, then there's flapping sounds of wings moving towards him.

A green dragon landed on the marble floor, startling Ronnel with a loud thud.

"Vermax." He called, extending his hand,

"Ñaqes rytsas, ñuhys raqiros."

Vermax purred, nuzzling his snout into Jacaerys' hand. He had been resting in a special stable the Lady of the Vale had prepared for him last night, and looks like he had woken due to his rider's early rise.

"Māzis." Jace led his dragon to the edge and fling himself up the saddle,

"Ser Elesham, I will take my morning flight. I will be back before breakfast."

"Yes, My Prince."

He curled his hand around the leather reins, pulling them with a command,

"Sōves."

Vermax screeched and took to the sky.

Jace let himself immersed in the breathtaking view up in the air, the warmth of the sun basking him and shining down the Eyrie below.

The wind ruffles through his hair, the air fills his lungs, the sunlight caresses his skin.

He inhaled deeply and let out a long shout, letting go of his handles and leaning back against the current.

Jace thinks of his family, how he'd love for them to all be here.

When the war's over, when his mother gets her throne, he'd be content to visit here again with them.

Jace flew through the Eyrie, observing the tall towers and white marbled walls, he flew past the skycell, noting a few residents there, all prisoners of the Vale, sentenced to take the highest punishment there is in the land.

Then, he swooped down the Mountain of the Moons, taking notes of the villages below where the shadows of his dragon casted over, before going back up.

He was in the sky for almost an hour. When he descends, Ronnel is already waiting for him.

"The fast is ready, My Prince." He informed.

He nodded, patting Vermax's flank and departed the tower, climbing down to the halls below.

He breaks his fast with Lady Arryn, where he stuffed himself with warm, sweet, honeyed toasts and fruits.

"When are you leaving, My Prince?" She had asked.

He hummed in his throat, downing another sip of milk,

"I was hoping to go after this meal, when I had cleaned myself up and finished packing my things."

"You had traveled so far and yet you had to make another trip further," The Lady sighed.

Jace shrugged,

"It's the matter of the realm. My personal motives can wait."

"Truly you had the heart of a prince of the realm." She joked.

"You flattered me, My Lady." He simply smiled and finished the toast.

"And Winterfell is not that far. I will already be there by nightfall."

Jeyne nodded as she downed her cup, her thick dark hair was half twisted up into a crown, while the other half fell down into a curtain around her head.

"I had my maester deliver your message back to Dragonstone this morning already, My Prince."

He made a sound of acknowledgement,

"I thank Your Ladyship for your kind heart."

"There's no need." She said,

"After all, we are relatives. And I am sure the Queen must be informed of the alliance as fast as possible."

Jace licked his lips.

"Joffrey and Rhaena will be here soon, My Lady. I'll see to it that they arrive at your doorstep safe and sound."

"And I'll be waiting for their wardship patiently." She replied with a smile,

"There's no need to rush that much, My Prince. In these times of turmoil, the safety of your family must come first."

"Yes." He agreed,

"But should other dragons come to your gates, the ones that are not of mine own family, I know that you would be pressured to take another solution." He popped some strawberries into his mouth,

"You should know, Your Ladyship, that I have no intentions of putting the Vale into a dangerous position. I do not wish you or your people to perish in dragonfire. I really do hope Tyraxes would be enough to fend off the Usurper's men."

"You worried too much, My Prince." Her fingers rubbed the side of her goblet,

"The Vale is not that weak."

Jace casted his eyes downward and nodded, saying nothing more as he emptied his plate.

After taking a bath and preparing his belongings, he entered the courtyard where the Lady had gathered her knights and noblemen to send him off.

The sword he carried hung heavy on his waist as he felt the wind swept his cloak against him. His boots made its way to the front of the Warden of the East.

"Thank you for your stay, My Prince." Jeyne said, her hand that clasped in front of her abdomen reminded him of his mother's posture.

A true ruler's pose.

"The honor is mine, My Lady." He nodded at her, then he walked to Ronnel, who had been his escort since he stayed at the Eyrie.

"Thank you for your escort, Ser Elesham." Jace said.

"The honor is mine and my house's, My Prince." He replied, dark eyes drifting downwards,

"I wish you a safe trip to the North."

He pursed his lips into a thin line, before pulling out a dagger on his belt, freeing it of the leather straps wrapping around it, and hand it to the knight,

"Here. Take this."

Ronnel look at him, wide eyed and baffled,

"How-how could I, My Prince?"

"Take it as a token of our friendship, Ser Elesham." He insisted,

"Though it was only for a short time, but I do hope we will meet again in the future."

The other boy blinked rapidly, before slowly taking the dagger into his hand, running his gloved fingers along the neatly made sheath.

His dark eyes look up to meet Jace's,

"Thank you, My Prince. I'll keep it for the

rest of my days."

He smiled, patting the other's shoulder,

"Take care, Ser Elesham."

He walked over to Vermax, putting his bag inside the saddle bags and climbed up into the seat above his dragon.

Jace took one last look at the Eyrie, before gripping the handles of his saddle,

"Sōves, Vermax!"

Chapter Text

fifteen

vaella

"The Vale is ours. In exchange for the wardship of Prince Joffrey Velaryon and the Lady Rhaena Targaryen." With the declaration from the Queen, the room echoes with small relieved sighs.

Vaella stood with Vorondyr, silently hidden in the corners of the painting room, observing the Lords of Westeros plotting their next move.

"Prince Jacaerys must have reached Winterfell by now," Rhaenyra said, folding the letter in her hand,

"Hopefully we'll get good news from there, too."

"Prince Daemon had sustained the Riverlands." Lord Corlys informed,

"He'll return soon."

"What a delight to hear," A Lord spoke, she remembered him to be the Lord Celtigar of Claw Isle.

"Where else might we send words, Your Grace?"

"Some houses of the Reach had answered our call; Beesbury, Caswell, Costayne, Grimm, some more, but most are still on the other side." She pointed to the middle of the map,

"And then we have the Vale, Riverrun, and likely the North. The Greens have the Westerlands and the Reach."

"How about the Tyrells of Highgarden, Your Grace?"

"A letter is being written." The Queen fiddled with her clasped fingers,

"But I doubt they would answer the call. Their overlords are the Hightowers, after all."

"Their lord is just a toddler." Another lord said, a Bar Emmon this time.

"Highgarden is being ruled by a group of regents now, we should talk to them."

"And what should we offer to them?" Vaella asked.

"What more should we offer?" The Queen asked back,

"We gave them mercy, sparing them from dragonfire, that's enough."

Her brows twitched, and she stride across the floor to Rhaenyra,

"Your Grace, if I may," She lowered her voice, so they could hear only each other,

"You can't just fly about the realm and remind those Lords' oaths to you, or tell them to surrender or you'll burn them. Storm's End has proven this method completely wrong."

Violet eyes glared to her, and the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms raised her brows,

"And what might you suggest, Lady Saneiros?"

"Give them something, Your Grace." Vaella replied,

"Something heavier than just promises of the past. Something they could see, could hold on to."

Rhaenyra looked down at the map table, then nodded,

"Very well then, give us some time."

Vaella swallowed, bowing her head slightly and returning to the corner.

It has been almost five days since Storm's End. The swelling of her skin had gone, and all that's left of the gash on her forehead is a trail of scabs and stitching scars. There was a fever in the first two days, but she recovered from it and the dizziness in her head that resulted from the concussion.

She bit her lips as he scooted closer, hand gripping her wrist,

" I hope you did not anger the Queen, Vae ," He whispered,

" Can't put you on Sovarys without your head ."

Vaella hit her tongue against the back of her teeth as she slapped his side with her knuckles,

" Don't be ridiculous ."

The meeting ends with Rhaenyra's dismissal of all the members of her council, safe for some of her advisors.

The Queen will talk about the bargains to offer to the Tyrells, and hopefully, more houses.

She could see what Rhaenyra is doing, forming political pressure to force her brother's side into coming out of their fortified walls and talk to her.

But to do that, they need as many allies as possible, and they also need to make sure their bannermen would not switch sides, for that would turn out to be a disaster.

Vaella would like to think about the plans, but she knows she is in no position or worth to make one.

They would dismiss a foreigner, of course.

So she did what she does best,

She observes from the corner, she calculates, and she persuades.

Her gown fluttered above the stone floor as she walked out the room, heading outside with Vorondyr in toe, eyes wide with surprise when he realized she's not going where he thought she would.

" And where do you think you're going ?" He caught up with her as she descended the stone stairs, heading to the village on the other side of the island.

" A walk , to the docks ," She paused,

" Would ease my mind ."

" It's a long way !"

" Then it means I have more time to think, does it not ?"

Vor grunted something under his breath, and she's quite sure he's basically calling her some names.

They reached the small town on the shore of the Narrow Sea. A place of fishermen and merchants, reeking of bitter salty smell that made her nose scrunched.

She gathered up her skirt to make sure it won't catch on the filth water on the damp wooden planks, treading the path carefully amongst the smallfolks of Dragonstone.

" Vae -"

Vaella slid herself down onto a chair in a tavern she founded, yelling,

"Two cups of ale!"

Vorondyr followed down with his eyebrows flying up to the bottom of his hairline, his face clearly panicked.

" Riña, what the fuck ?"

She wrinkled her face,

" That's rude . I'm older . Call me mandia ."

" We were literally born the same year ."

" I came out my mother's womb first ." She sucked her cheek.

" Two months is barely a gap ." He shot back.

" I'm older anyways ." Vaella shrugged, finishing the conversation with a thank you nod to the barmaid and a gulp of ale from her cup, ignoring the frustrated look from her cousin.

When the liquid hit her tongue, she gasped as she swallowed it down her throat, the stench of the drink and its bitter pungent taste sent her face flying with such expressions Vorondyr chuckled.

" Serves you right ."

She squeezed her eyes as the taste sinks in, whistling softly,

" That's like…bad ."

" You're exaggerating ." He frowned, taking a gulp before letting out a grunt, his face twitched in the same manner as hers,

" Woah, fuck, that's bad ."

" Told you so ." Vaella flicked her tongue, laying down the cup.

" Why are we here, exactly ?" He tried to control his face,

" To drink some shitty ale ? Because you're a shitty drinker, I know that, and you know that too ."

" Indeed I am ." She cocked her head.

" But don't you think there will be some goods to buy in the market ?"

" If it's something better than what we have back home , then it's worth the money ." He took another sip with another grimace.

Vaella tapped her fingers against the wooden table, thinking of the crafts made in the Bone Valley.

It's a good thing that her house had patronized so many artisans of versatile crafts in the days of Old Valyria. When the empire fell, its ways of crafts were preserved in the Bone Valley. They produced various pieces; Valyrian fabrics that were adorned with gold and silver and many colorful embroidered patterns, daggers and swords of Valyrian steel with jewel-encrusted hilts, and their most prized products, crafts made of bones.

From lamps to knives to accessories, all were so desired by the nobles of the Free Cities they had to make receptions over a year. And even more than that for custom-made treasures, in which a representative would visit to talk about the designs.

Some rumbles from the other side of the tavern stirred her thoughts back into the present.

"Just do what I say, you twat!"

"Why should I, eh, you cunt?"

Her eyes flickered to the ruckus, fingers rubbing the length of the cup as her head tilted down, observing quietly.

There's two men. One with a huge, thick, red beard, and one with a scar lining along the side of his face. They were baring teeth at each other, bumping chest to chest, grumbling as the men behind both of them looked ready for a round of fight.

Vaella dimmed her eyes as the Red Beard started throwing some more insults, and the Scarfaced answered with a punch to his jaw.

" Gods be good ." Vorondyr raised a brow and leaned back as the men jumped in to join their leaders.

" This is going to be messy ."

She sat there, one leg over another, sipping her ale quietly.

Shitty ale indeed.

It was until one of the fighting men stopped punching and started fondling a frightened barmaid, that Vaella decided enough is enough.

She smashed the cup in her hand onto the table, stomping up to rip his hands off her and push the girl further back behind herself.

"That's enough." She said.

"What the fuck?" He grumbled, glaring at her before trying to shove her off his way.

She caught his hand and twist it, listening to the sound of bones cracking in the most ambient way.

"Fu-" He gasped,

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"Are you deaf or something?" Vaella lowered her voice,

"Because I just said that's enough ."

"Botis!" He shrieked, panic-stricken.

"Botis! Help!"

The Redbeard moved in, staring her down from under his messy thick red brows.

"What in the seven hells is going on, Truss?"

"This wench!" Truss screamed when he tried to point at her but she pushed his hand further.

"She breaks me hand!"

Botis look at her, then her hand,

"Let him go, woman."

"I will," She sucked her teeth,

"Only if he would keep his hands to himself, and not to a girl who clearly doesn't want it."

He raised his brows, looking back at Truss,

"What'd you do now, lad?"

"I didn't do nothin'!"

"Oh yes?" Vaella taunted, applying pressure onto the sore spot.

"Fuck!"

"I didn't know that a fight is an excuse to harass a girl." Her amethyst eyes looked around their faces,

"Or is it some kind of a tradition of yours? To dishonor women?"

As the men around her fell into shocked silence, she didn't give them a chance to speak,

"What is this stupid fight all about, anyways? Have you no time to take it out to the beach? Do you not know there are customers who just wanted to enjoy their drink here?" She hissed, then added quickly,

"Though the ale is shitty."

The Scarfaced eyed her, before huffing,

"Aye, the ale here is shitty."

A small laugh break out with a low agreeing hum, then Botis looked at Truss,

"Did you harm the girl, you dimwit?"

The man she's holding gaped his mouth, before gritting his teeth,

"Tis but a little touch. She seems to enjoy it, even!"

Vaella growled,

"Why you little shit."

Before she could draw her punch, Botis did the deed.

His knuckles hit the man's face hard, knocking him unconscious to the ground.

"Let it be known," He said,

"That Botis the Redbeard and his lads respects the ladies."

Then, he turned to his other men,

"Get this bloody trash out of my sight."

"Aye, Captain."

After Truss had been dragged out, Botis turned to her,

"We are sorry for the mistreatment."

"Not to me," She shrugged, gesturing to her back where the scared barmaid is still hiding.

"She's the one who got frightened."

"My apologies, girl."

The girl nodded frantically and excused herself almost immediately after, clearly wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible.

Once the barmaid is gone, the Scarfaced explained,

"The wretched Redbeard had his bloody ship docked right behind me. Can't get to sea with it blockin' the way."

"Hah!" Botis mocked,

"You're tellin' me the migh'y Cierdan got trapped in land?"

"Quit the fuckin' taunt, bastard." Cierdan sneered, creasing the line of scar that passed down his forehead to his chin,

"Move your ship, and I'll let this go."

"Let this go?" The Redbeard shrieked,

"Like how you say you'll let this go when you stole my gold and I beat the bloody hell off of you? Aye, let's let this go!"

"It was a fuckin' accident, you shit!" He growled back,

"Told you 'tis just a misunderstanding. I didn't know it was your gold. Last I know, you stole them too, and you'd be in a damned prison if I took it to the soldiers."

"I took them, they were mine!"

"Seven hells, you little shit! Just move that ragged ship of yours!"

Vaella eyed her cousin, who gave her an i don't know, smash their heads maybe? look, and took a deep breath before reaching her fingers,

"Here," She took out a golden ring,

"I'll pay you this, if you'd move the ship for him."

Botis furrowed his thick brows, but took the ring to inspect,

"Real gold. Where'd you get it, woman?"

"It's mine. Hope it's worth something." She shrugged,

"So?"

He bit the gold to test, and then gave a satisfied grumble,

"Aye."

Vaella crossed her arms as Cierdan looked at her.

"Thank you."

"I just don't like messy situations."

"You're not from around 'ere, have you?" He asked,

"That hair is standin' out. You some kind o' dragonseeds?"

She frowned,

"No."

"From Lys, then." He guessed,

"A merchant or somethin'?"

Vaella hummed, nodding,

"Some kind of that."

"Where'd you go next?" Botis spoke up, putting the ring in his pocket as he ordered his men to move their ship out of the other's way.

She licked her lips.

There it is, an opportunity.

"I was hoping Highgarden, me and my brother."

"Highgarden?" Cierdan shrieked,

"Why the fuck would you go to Highgarden?"

She cocked her head to another side,

"Why? Is it not a good choice?"

"You might be good at fightin'," Botis clicked his teeth,

"But you sure are lackin' experiences in the field of merchants."

"Aye," The Scarfaced agreed,

"That place is a goddamned warzone."

Vaella raised her brows,

"Warzone?"

Cierdan rolled his eyes, sitting down onto one of the chairs,

"How much time you got, girl?"

She eyed Vorondyr, a glint in her violet orbs as she slide down to the seat opposite of him, Botis settling in the same table,

The Redbeard grinned, yelling,

"More ale!"

Chapter Text

sixteen

rhaena

The Dragonmont is humongous .

Rhaena clasped her hand, rubbing, trying to ease the cold due to her stress. The wind is around her, blowing her numb despite the smoke from the volcano in front of her.

"You can do this, Rhaena." She mumbled under her breath, feeling her whole body shaking.

"It's now or never."

The shrieks and roars of the dragons echoed the sky, and her heart beat faster with the sound.

As she climbed up the entrance, the rocks scraped her feet through her silk shoes, dry and rough and hard against her palm.

Rhaena laid low, trying to hide herself under her cloak, away from the eyes of the dragonkeepers who stood guard at the stairs.

No, she wouldn't want anyone to stop her right now.

There is a reason she came alone, unnoticed. Not even her twin Baela knows where she is going.

Their father might have guessed, but she doubts he'd even recognize her disappearance.

Rhaena remembered her own despair, when her newly hatched dragon died at Pentos many many years ago. It hurts like hell, and she was consumed with grief and fever for the lost bond.

Her mother had held her through her pain, lulling her to sleep everytime she woke up with a scream.

But her mother died, too. As well as the unborn child in her womb, consumed by dragonfire.

She was always her mother's daughter, closer to her than to her father. When Laena's gone, she was lost.

Sometimes, Rhaena even blamed herself for not claiming Vhagar sooner.

When the anger faded, she realized what Aemond had said was true.

Then you should've claimed her .

She was a coward.

Her dragon eggs never hatched again, and gone with it, her confidence.

Once in a long time, she wondered if she was a real Targaryen, a blood of Old Valyria, a descendant of dragonriders.

Baela leaned on their father for support, but she had no one. Her grandparents are away in Driftmark, and her stepbrothers can't fill the void in her heart.

She was never a favorite child.

When her father counted the dragons present on their side at the painting room, she felt as if he's pouring a bucket of ice over her head.

He never said it, but she could hear it echoing from under his voice,

You are dragonless. You worth no more than a single mark in the history books of the Targaryens.

Even her name was in honor of another person.

Nothing she had, she had earned by herself.

And Rhaena is so tired of it.

She could not bear being worthless any longer. She had to prove herself. To hell with that.

When the Queen announced she is to be sent to the Vale with Joffrey, she heard something in her snapped.

They were to depart in the morrow.

This is her last chance.

She never had the courage to do it. But it's all or nothing now.

She will claim a dragon, or she will die trying.

Rhaena's time is thinning, she only had time until the sun is down to act, to decide.

She cloaked herself, left the castle quietly in the darkness, and headed to the nests of the dragons as fast as she could.

She didn't even have time to change into something more appropriate.

Her grandmother will kill her for this.

But Rhaena doesn't care.

The burning sensation in her heart was unquenchable as she neared the mountain. It roared and it screamed and it urged her to go forward. To not stop .

She pressed herself against the stone pillars on the side of the stairs, feeling the roughness of the surfaces as a dragonkeeper walked past above her head.

She held her breath,

Not now .

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying to the gods no one would catch her.

Suddenly, her balance wavered when she tried to move. Her legs have given out under the pressure she's feeling.

Rhaena almost let out a yelp, but turned her voice down into a gasp instead. She pushed her heels into the ground, steadying herself.

But when she settled again, her shoe had stepped onto a dried twig.

Seven hells .

Why was there even a twig in the first place?

" What's that ?!" Bellowed the dragonkeepers in High Valyrian.

She sucked her breath, swallowing down her dry throat. Her heart pounding in her ears as she felt her blood rush everywhere.

" You !" He yanked another dragonkeeper, a young boy.

" Go look !"

As the boy looked around and inched closer, Rhaena bit her lip hard.

She's finished.

But before her plan would be destroyed, a figure appeared from under the stairs.

" It's me ." A voice said, spurning the dragonkeepers to the direction and pulling their attention from Rhaena.

Vaella Saneiros stood there, her silver hair tied into a messy horsetail.

She looked like she had been out of the castle, judging by the state of her dress that's now crumpled and somehow dirtied.

" Lady Vaella ." The elder man greeted,

" The hour is quite late ."

" I understand ." She said, clasping her hand behind the small of her back and straightened her spine,

" I just wanted to make sure my dragon is fine ."

" Sovarys is well, My Lady ." He said,

" Do you wish to see her ? I can take you ."

" It's fine ." She shook her head,

" I'm not good with too much heat ."

The amethyst orbs flickered to her direction, and Rhaena held her breath.

Vaella saw her.

In those moments, she could only stared back, pleading with her eyes,

Please don't say anything .

The lady hummed in her throat,

" Actually , I wish to discuss something ."

She locked her lips hesitantly, before looking up to them,

" Would you mind coming down ? Just for a moment ? It's not quite appropriate looking down at your superiors, isn't it ?"

The men looked at each other, before slowly treading down the stairs.

" Mayhaps , My Lady ," The elder one asked,

" Have you been drinking ?"

Oh,

Now that he mentioned it, Rhaena had noticed Vaella's gaze had been heavier than usual.

She grinned lazily, an image of a goddess losing herself in wine, and chuckled ever so softly,

" Was I not allowed to have some time to myself ?"

" I apologize, My Lady ." He said, bowing,

" It is not my intention ."

" Apologies accepted ," She laughed playfully.

" I was just thinking, about the unclaimed dragons ."

He tilted his head,

" What about them , My Lady ?"

" I heard the Prince Consort says there's quite a few in there ," She jutted her chin to the entrance of the Dragonmont, high up behind them,

" What can you tell me about them ?"

" Why , pray tell ," The younger one spoke up, brows creasing,

" Did Your Ladyship want to know this ?"

She smiled, her eyes unreadable,

" And why , pray tell , must you be curious , taōba ?"

" I -" He stuttered,

" I apologize, My Lady ."

" No worries ." Vaella shrugged with a delighted smile,

" I just wanted to know about the dragons I could be fighting alongside in the battles to come ."

In those moments the dragonkeepers seemed to be confused and looked at each other, the Lady peered back up to Rhaena.

And after eyeing the men once, she looked straight into her eyes and mouthed,

Go .

With a small tilting gesture from her head to the stairs, her gleaming eyes left her and went back into the conversation with the other two, smoothly avoiding suspicions.

Rhaena doesn't have to be told twice.

She got up from the shadows, climbed up the stairs above her and slipped into yet another shadow under the arched stone pillars of the gate of the Dragonmont.

The path is dark and narrow.

Rhaena took a torch hanging on one of the walls, lighting her way deeper into the volcano.

She put her free hand against the rough wall, treading slowly as her eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the shadow beyond the flame of her torch.

The growls echoed in the hallway, sending shivers down her spine.

She licked her dried lips.

Rhaena thinks of her mother's warm embrace, how the fear and uncertainties of her childhood melted away by only a simple, single touch.

Be with me, mother . She pleads, hoping her voice could reach Laena in the afterlife.

Rhaena thrusted the torch forward as she neared another gate inside.

"No," She mumbled after taking a look at it,

"Not this one. It's Syrax."

There is a secret she kept to herself for many years.

Well, not an actual secret. But because no one asked, or bothered to find out, Rhaena considers it one.

She could remember anything by just a glance. It stuck into her head like some kind of a painting she could rummage up to look at the details all over again.

She could still conjure up the image of her family's dinner in Pentos, in one of the Princes of the city's mansion. Her mother's glare at her father, her sister's smile as she toasted, the Prince's colorful attire, the roasted pig.

And she had once seen a map of the Dragonmont. The pinpointed locations of each dragon nested inside the mountain.

Of course , Rhaena remembered it.

"Seventh gate to the right," She shut her eyes hard, mumbling,

"Seventh gate to the right."

Her footsteps uneven, her breath shaky, she pursed her lips and controlled her heartbeat.

She counted the entrances on her right slowly as she walked, the cries of the beasts nested in them was low but alarmingly dangerous.

One ,

That's Caraxes.

Two ,

That's Vermax.

Three ,

That's Tyraxes.

Four ,

Moondancer.

Five ,

That's an empty nest, formerly belonging to Meraxes. But she heard that the Saneiroses' dragons were hosted in this very mountain, so there might be one of the ice dragons inside.

Six ,

Also empty.

Seven ,

There. That's the one she's coming for.

Rhaena took a deep breath, her eyes sharp as she chewed the bottom of her lips.

She stepped inside the gate.

At first, there was silence. There was darkness.

Her heart sank.

What if her memories had betrayed her? What if the dragon she's looking for is not here?

Then, a sound came.

It's a low rumble, a small movement of life that gradually gets louder.

Rhaena let out a long breath.

She put the torch down onto the stone floor as the shadows in the large cave shifted, twisted, unfurled.

She stared, not batting her eyes once even if the creature breaks through the curtain of darkness, showing itself.

She stared, directly into the eyes of glowing yellow, and beheld.

The dragon's snout moved closer, sniffing the scent of her, its scales caught the light of the fire from her torch on the ground.

Bronze scales.

Rhaena breathed slowly, raising her hand.

Be brave , Rhaena . Her mother had said when she complained about not having a dragon.

If you are brave enough, they will accept you .

She felt a surge of a new feeling rushing through her veins as she bellowed,

" Dohaeras , Vermithor !"

Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, in all his glory, roared. It was a powerful sound, shaking the ground she stood on. He spread his gigantic wings as his shadow hovered over her, standing on his hind legs.

Rhaena thinks of that one time she went to her father, after her mother's death. He just looked at her sadly and put a single hand on her head before he walked away.

She cried again, louder,

" Dohaeras ! Lykirī !"

Then there's the time her father remarried. He didn't even ask Baela or her if they're ready to have a new mother.

Baela is his girl, she'd always agree with him.

And the fact that his new wife happens to be their cousin doesn't help much.

Vermithor opened his mouth, a line of four feet long teeth greeted her as he bare them.

She decided she'll have at least a thing in her own way, in her own right. At least a thing that she knows she wanted, that results from her own desire.

No one will move her like a simple pawn on the boards, just this once.

So Rhaena screamed at the top of her lungs, giving it all she had,

" Rȳbagon , Vermithor ! Lykirī !"

For a moment, she saw an ember of glowing fire inside his mouth. And in that moment, Rhaena unusually felt content.

She, a dragonless girl, had sneaked into the Dragonmont, trying to tame the largest dragon after Vhagar, an act that would send her six year old self baffled and terrified.

If she dies here, if she dies now, she knows that she has fulfilled her deepest desire; claiming a dragon of her own.

A death by dragonfire is a death worthy of a Targaryen.

She might not have lived like one, but she'd be happy if she died like one.

At least, she will meet her mother again.

But then, the dragon lowered his wings, folding them back onto the ground. The growl of animosity is still there, but he moved his head further to meet her, to look into her eyes.

Rhaena's orbs locked with him, and she shuddered as she saw her reflection.

Herself, through the eyes of a century-old dragon.

She inched her hand closer.

His breath was hot, burning her skin as she neared his snout. But he just watched her silently, calmly.

" Lykirī ." Rhaena could only mutter that word, over and over like a prayer.

" Lykirī , Vermithor ."

Her breath hitched as the pads of her fingers grazed his rough, battle-tested scales.

She flipped her palm, pressing her skin against the area beneath his eyes.

The sensation was unlike any other things she'd had before.

Rhaena's body shook like there's an earthquake inside her, vibrating into her core. Her heartbeat quickens, pounding hard, pumping blood rushing her veins.

Her eyes sting, hot and damp.

She gaped her mouth when she felt her chest tightens and heavy, only to hear a wet gasp. A drop of liquid rolled out from the border of her eye.

Rhaena tried to stare through her tear curtains, at the face of the Bronze Fury.

Then, she felt a beat under her hand.

Vermithor's heartbeat, in unison with hers.

Her dragon .

She threw herself into him, pressing her body against his scales that uncomfortably pokes through her dirtied silken dress, her arms open wide as she wrapped them around the length of his head.

He grumbled into her.

Rhaena sobbed.

" Kirimvose ."

She swallowed a lump in her throat down as she trailed her hand along his neck, feeling the scars he received during his glory days with her great-grandsire.

" Iksā gevie ," She whispered, her voice breaking as she rested her forehead against the ridge under his eyes.

" Sīr gevie ."

Rhaena took small steps to his flank, tracing the spikes on him to his back.

The place where there should be a saddle is empty. Not a surprise, honestly, for Vermithor is riderless for so many years. The leather would have tattered and unwind, and the saddle would have broken some time ago.

She sighed,

"A good experience is a hard one, as they say."

So it's settled,

She had to ride unsaddled, or she had to go back to Dragonstone to find herself a saddle, and waste even more time.

She'll do it. And she'll do it now .

Rhaena curled her hands around his spikes, tightening her grip as she climbed up his back, settling carefully between the ridges of his spine.

She drawn in her deep breath,

" Sōves !"

Chapter Text

seventeen

vaella

"Your Grace," She descended down the stairs.

"Lady Saneiros?" Rhaenyra lifted her head, raising herself from her couch in front of the hearth.

"What brings you here?"

"I was hoping to seek your advice." Vaella said, trying her best not to slur.

Shit. The ale had gotten into her.

The Queen furrowed her brows, but nodded,

"How may I help?"

"Have you found the right bargain for the Tyrells?" She asked.

Rhaenyra hummed in her throat, her silver hair that flowed freely onto her back waved as she shifted her stance,

"What of it, My Lady?"

"I," Vaella chewed her lips,

"I heard something…that might be valuable."

"Have you been to the tavern?" The Queen asked back, carefully as she scrunched her nose.

She laughed dryly, it seemed that the stench of cheap ale had uncovered her past actions.

"Yes."

The hall is empty, for nighttime has fallen. The sky is dark, but the candles and the fire of the hearth in the corner illuminated the cold room.

"Ah," Rhaenyra stared her up and down, and she's reminded of how her mother looked at her when she was caught spending her time at the bone alley late into the night.

"So, what have you heard that I might find valuable, My Lady?"

Vaella shifted her weight, controlling her heavy body as she answered,

"There is…a group of bandits, on the route to Highgarden."

The elder woman's eyebrows raised,

"Go on."

"They called themselves the Sons of the Greenvines. Been ambushing the caravans and looting travelers for at least four moons now."

"Four moons?" Rhaenyra repeated,

"Why didn't the regents do something?"

"Because they can't." She shrugged,

"If-If you may, Your Grace, I'd like a seat."

"Oh," The Queen laughed, gesturing her to the empty couch beside hers,

"Please."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Vaella unceremoniously collapsed into the velvet, letting out a soft grunt as she adjusted herself.

"Are you drunk?" A blunt question sends her dry laughing again.

"I…am not sure." She smiled coyly,

"Maybe, I guess so."

She tapped her fingers against the armrest, continuing,

"There was someone behind those bandits. Not someone, actually, like half of the council of Highgarden is behind them."

The Lady of the Seven Kingdoms tilted her head,

"And why would they do that?"

"Lord Lyonel is still a babe. His regents are his mother, his castellan and his stewart. So basically, there's a woman, a guard, and a housekeeper acting in his name. This is the perfect time for the lords of Highgarden to take advantage of the power vacuum, they make money, and the Lord sits on his throne until he comes of age, maybe even long after he comes of age, they will still continue."

Rhaenyra nodded,

"So, they funded this…Sons of the Greenvines?"

"Yes."

"And why has Highgarden not gone into poverty yet?"

"Apparently," She breathed,

"Those lords have their own guild of merchants. They only trade for themselves, and all the fortune in the city flowed to them. All the money the smallfolks spend."

"Hmmm." The Queen hummed,

"And you heard this, from the tavern?"

"I made quite a few friends." She licked her lips,

"Who happens to know the situations in the Reach quite well."

Rhaenyra nodded understandingly with a smile,

"So, this is the offer you'd been looking for?"

She rocked her head slowly.

"An alliance, for putting the unbalanced power play back into order."

"So you came here with an insight, and suggest I send you to Highgarden as an envoy, am I right?"

"Half truth, Your Grace." Vaella pursed her lips as she leaned her head against the chair,

"I was actually suggesting my own cousin."

"Ser Vorondyr?"

"He might seem like a spoiled brat who can't hold his own," She explained,

"But actually, amongst our generation, he's the brain. This is a perfect mission for him, and I even bet he'll enjoy torturing those lords in many ways possible."

"So, Ser Vorondyr to Highgarden, and settle the power vacuum, yes?"

"Indeed." The corners of Vaella's lips tucked into a smile,

"What is your advice, Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra's violet eyes stared right into her, staying silently still for a long moment.

"Your brother conditioned me you both receive commands from him only."

Vaella hummed in her throat, slumping onto the velvet paddings of the couch, her head now dizzy.

"It's not your command if I present the idea and just ask for your permission."

The Queen pressed her lips together. Vaella prayed.

Please work out. Please work out.

Or else all the ale she consumed while wringing out information from Botis and Cierdan will be a lost cause, and her hangover tomorrow would be a hundred times worse for nothing.