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Chapter Text

The Red Keep was no stranger to screams. From the viscous, bloodcurdling ones from dragons who lived down in the underbelly of the Keep to the screams of Princess Rhaneyra who was currently going through one of the ways wives serve their Kingdoms from the birthing bed. In the year 114 AC the screams of Rhaneyra ‘The Realms Delight’ were heard throughout the halls, they rang in the air above everyone’s heads but yet the sounds did not startle any of the maids or maesters.

What did scare them was the thought that the babe would not come. A panic spread from each person in the room, sweeping Rhaenyra along with them as she struggled and laboured relentlessly on sweat ridden linen. Her husband couldn’t even stand by her side without almost fainting.

  “Princess.” The maids’ voice was quiet, almost pleading in a most unmaidly way. “Princess, I need to move the baby.”

  “Absolutely not.” She screams, pushing through another contraction.

  “It’s the only way, your majesty.” Another maid pipes in and Rhaneyra looks at them through her strands of hair that have fallen in front of her eyes.

She takes a deep breath in through her nose before asking, “How do you know it will work?”

  “I’ve done it many times before, Princess, at the Citadel. The babes always come out nice and healthy I assure you.”

She debates it. Her face wrinkled at the thought of how the maid could possibly move the baby inside her stomach. But she wanted this baby out of her as fast as possible. “Only if it’s the best option.”

  “It is, Princess. I would never do anything to harm you.”

Rhaenyra nods and lets the maid place her cold hands on her warm belly. When the maid starts to push Rhaenyra's belly this way and that, she lets out another bloodcurdling scream. It feels as though the babe will pop out of her stomach as the maid pushes and pulls on different angles of her stomach. She feels as though she may pass out as a different maid places a cool cloth on her forehead.

  “The babe should be at the right angle now, Princess. I would start pushing.”

Rhaenyra nods once more and her face twists into one of pain as she feels the need to push. Screams make their way out of her mouth and she wants to be anywhere but here right now. She starts to cry, thinking this will never end and mumbles out a ‘I can’t. I can’t do this’ that the maid who was previously pushing on her stomach caught.

  “Yes you can, Princess. You’re a dragon, be a dragon.”

Rhaenyra will never forget the maid’s red stained hands as she pulled the babe from Rhaenyras body. She will never forget the babe either, kicking and squirming with its lungs screaming bloody murder. One of the maid’s even remarked she’s never heard a set of lungs that loud.

However Rhaenyra wasn’t listening. She just gazed down at her baby, small tufts of white hair presenting themselves on its head and violet eyes peering into her own similar ones. She looks to the maid who presented the babe to Rhaenyra in swaddled clothes. “Boy?”

  “Girl, Princess.” The maid’s face was one of disappointment for the Princess but when the Princess heard the babe she was holding was a girl, her eyes were alight with excitement.

She gasped, “A girl.” she said quietly, as to not upset her daughter. “Well, if you were a boy you would be the son of Westeros. However you, Maella Valeryon shall be mine.” She whispers into her daughter’s small ears and she hears her daughter coo, and she couldn’t help but think it’s because her daughter could understand her at only a couple seconds old.

Rhaenyra would never have left her daughter’s side in the fear that her daughter would slip through Rhaenyra’s fingers being a first time mom and everything but with Rhaenyra’s daughter looking too sickly to survive past a couple months, no one had any hope for the child. As the maester tended to the newborn girl, Rhaenyra’s worries grew. This child was not the son that she and Laenor had hoped for, nor was she the child of Laenor’s, and her tiny frame concerned all who saw her. And when word came that Alicent is pregnant with another healthy boy, Rhaenyra knew the threats to her claim had just increased. She could not keep this frail daughter at court, not when the Realm’s Delight thrives so in the Red Keep.

With a heavy heart, Rhaenyra made a decision to ensure her girl’s survival.

  “Send her away, where House Hightower cannot find her.”

  “But princess, she will grow strong I assure-” The maester goes to argue but Rhaenyra cuts him off.

  “Let her be raised far from the Capitol,” Rhaenyra told the maester. “Please, I’m begging of you.”

The maester nodded and little Maella was bundled in warm furs and cuddled up to a green dragon egg and taken from her mother’s side into the rocky Dornish plains. In the shadowcity of Vaith, an orphanage took the babe in. No one knew her lineage save the silent maester and Maella’s mother. They always made sure to cover her hair or try and color it. As she grew amongst the other motherless children, Maella’s features marked her as a dragon, yet the fire in her blood seemed dimmed by her sickly constitution.

Word reached the Red Keep that Princess Maella had succumbed to a swift fever, her small body laid to rest alongside kin in the Dragonpit crypts. A solemn procession bearing Princess Maella’s shrouded body to the sept. Rhaenyra withdrew into mourning as the realm offered their condolences. Yet despite the despair of the entire kingdom and its people, Maellacontinued to live. She was small and quiet, and though far removed from courtly life she dreamed of soaring dragons and a mother she never knew. Little did she know, her Targaryen spirit would one day lead her back to King’s Landing and the viper’s den of her true family.

Yet one pair of ocher eyes did not blink back tears that morn. Alicent Hightower would come to learn of the babes survival, tellings of a pale child with silver hair seen being whisked through Westeros under cover of night’s shadows to a new life across the narrow sea, even if Laenor and Rhaenyra were adamant about Maella not surviving past the first 20 minutes of being outside Rhaenyra’s womb. Alicent would visit the child frequently in the shadowcity of Vaith. Alicent could point out Maella in a crowd full of hundreds of babes that supposedly look just like her but even if the Maid’s hide Maella’s silver-golden hair with some sort of coloring or a small hood, they couldn’t hide the violet eyes that looked at Alicent as if they knew her somehow.

Alicent was of course aware of the blatancy of Maella’s birth. It was as clear as day that she had been conceived out of wedlock as her pale ivory skin betrayed her so-called biological father. Yet Alicent knew that Laenor chose to ignore the obvious, declaring Maella as truly his.

But instead of having the child killed, which Alicent could never do- she may be cruel in some aspects but never in that, she decided to bring up a proposal to Rhaenyra, offering her soon to be delivered son Aemond to be promised to Rhanyera’s daughter.

Alicen’t began shadowing Maella’s growth in secret. She watched the girl blossom into a willowy beauty with a wild dragon’s spirit, and pride warmed even the icy vesitges of her frayed friendship with Rhaenyra. Now, with tensions between greens and black nearing some dreadful climax, Alicent saw a chance for accord. She requested private audience with her former friend, veils drawn tight over calculating features.

  “You must be worried for Maella always, so far from Westerosi protection,” Alicent began smoothly. “I propose a truce-pledge your Maella to my son Aemond. When they come of age, I shall see them properly wed and your girl’s safety ensured, so long as you maintain order, Princess.”

Rhaenyra looked askance, distrust radiating off rigid frame. “And what incentive have you to keep such oaths?” she spat bitterly. But they both knew Maella’s life in constant jeopardy abroad. Alicent let the implication linger, radiating benevolent purpose despite thorny past. A mother’s love knows no politics, after all. One day Maella would come back and she would be crowned before Aegon. The gambit gave Rhaenyra pause-to have her lost jewel returned, nestled in the honeysuckle halls of the capital once more, assured of life and freedom. Yet to seal it with Green marriage beds, condemning her dragon’s spirit to such captivity…

In the end, self-preservation won out as it always did with royalty. And so beneath the heart tree, the bargain was reluctantly struck that would change the fates of kingdoms. A betrothal was arranged, to be fulfilled once Maella and Aemond both came of age. Unspoken went all the machinations each woman truly schemed, watching and waiting like vipers in the tall grasses. For now, the fledgling alliance held…but dragons could change their minds as easily as the winds.

Two dragon whelps still so young, unaware of the players maneuvering them like cyvasse pieces across the board.

Chapter Text

Years passed as the silent pact took shape. Maella thrived in shadowcity orchards, ignorant of the strings pulling her from afar. But slowly, whispers reached even that far port, carried by trader’s tongues. Of promised hands and Green eyes watching through leaf and flame. Of dragons circling closer to an inevitable dance.

The relentless cries of seagulls were drowned out by jeers and taunts as Maella made her way down to the docks.

  “Freak! Dragon spawn!”

Three older boys had been tormenting her relentlessly for months, preying on her small stature and foreign features. No matter where she went in the shadowcity, their mocking faces seemed to find her. Today, they lurked near the boats as usual, tossing rocks and insults her way.

  “Go back to Valyria, white-haired witch!”

Maella hunched her shoulders and pulled up her hood, hoping to pass unnoticed. But it seemed the gods had other plans. A well-aimed pebble struck her leg, and before she knew it, cruel hands were shoving her to the splintery planks. Laughter rang out as Maella scraped her palms raw trying to stand.

Shame and anger boiled over within her thin chest until she saw nothing but red.

With a shriek like that of a harpy, Maella launched herself at the largest boy, nails and teeth finding purchase wherever they could. The commotion drew onlookers, who gasped and the uncharacteristic display of ferocity from the usually meek orphan girl. By the time Maella was pulled off, both combatants sported bruises and cuts.

As expected, Matron Myla was less than pleased when news of the altercation reached her. Maella hung her head, quivering, as the stern woman berated her actions. “Violence will not be tolerated. You must ride above such pettiness with grace and wisdom.” Myla lectured.

But a hot coal of fury still smoldered deep in Maella’s heart. “They attacked me first!” she burst out. Myla pursed her lips disapprovingly.

  “Enough excuses, girl. Control that temper before it ruins you.”

Something inside Maella snapped at the accusation. “I wish I wasn’t like this!” She shouted, silver tears streaming openly. “I wish I looked normal, that they’d all just leave me be!” With that, Maella spun on her heel and ran blindly out into the shadowcity streets.

Myla called after her fruitlessly, but the girl’s grief and rage had carried her too far beyond reason’s reach. Maella ran until her lung burned, finally collapsing in a hidden alleyway. There, she wept bitter tears for the life and family she’d never known, cursed with a foreign face that marked her forever an outsider amongst her own.

Maella didn’t know how long she sat huddled in the alley, tears slowly ebbing away. As night fell, the shadowcity’s noises drifted in-laughter, shouting, music. A strange calm had settled over her.

Rising unsteadily, she began walking with no destination in mind. The streets were near empty now, lanterns casting dancing shadows. Maella traced their path absentmindedly until a sound made her pause.

Voices echoed from a rowdy tavern up ahead, but something about them pricked at her memory. Creeping closer, she peered through a grimy window-and froze in shock.

There, amid mugs of ale, were the three boys who’d tormented her for so long. But they weren’t celebrating some victory. One clutched a bloodied nose, glaring daggers at his companions as they jeered.

  “…told ya not to mess with that freak! Dragon witch must’ve put a curse on ya, Baemor…”

Their cruel taunts now carried an undercurrent of fear. Maella stepped back, mind reeling. Had her outburst finally made the bullies wary? She turned for home, footsteps steady. But she would not be so fortunate as not a fortnight later, she was cut down again.

The little boat had been Maella’s project for weeks, carved meticulously from scraps of driftwood. She was so proud of her creation and couldn’t wait to test if it would float, as all the boats do that she watched sail in from all over the seven kingdoms.

But when Joran saw her tiny vessel, he snatched it from her grasp. “A weakling like you shouldn’t waste your time with such toys,” he sneered. Before Maella could react, Joran flung her boat into the muddy water where it sank without a trace.

Hot tears welled in her eyes at the loss of her work. Anger and sadness welled inside her thin frame until she trembled with rage. Without thinking, Maella launched herself at the larger boy. Though she lacked his bulk, her fists flew with surprising ferocity.

  “Give it back! It’s mine!” she cried, pounding at Joran’s chest as he howled with startled pain. The other children gathered, oohing and ahhing at the rare sight of Maella fighting back. Even the matron was shocked as she pulled the furious girl off her tormentor. Joran nursed his bruises with a new look of hatred for the dragon girl.

Matron Myla took Maella into the orphanage building to clean her scrapes with a gentler tone than her words. “You must use wisdom in how you respond to trouble, child,” she chided. Though proud of her spunk, violence could not be tolerated.

Maella hung her head, sniffling. “He took my boat. It wasn’t fair.” she mumbled in a small voice.

Myla sighed. “Life often isn’t. But reaching with anger will only breed more of it.” at the maester’s chambers, Mylaexplained the skirmish while he checked Maella’s cuts. The elder man hummed thoughtfully as his examination concluded.

Chapter Text

As sunlight filtered through the small window, Maella stirred from her dreams of endless blue horizons. She blinks awake, taking a moment to register where she is- in the same thin cot she had slept in for nearly two decades at the orphanage.

But something is different about this morning. It takes her a beat to realize why, before a slow smile breaks across her face. Today is Maella’s name day, and her tenth at that. Most girls from the shadowcity are long wed by now, but my color of eyes and nicknames had spared her such obligations.

She gets dressed, awaking some of the other girls in the room. She doesn’t care that they’re mad at her, nothing can ruin today. At breakfast, Matron Myla smiles warmly.

  “Happy birthday, Maella.”

  “Thank you, Matron.” She says, giving her a hug. She pulls back to go to the table to break her fast, feeling ravenous. At the table, Maella sits alone. She always sits alone. She guesses no one really likes to sit next to a Targaryen bastard. Her fingers push bread between her lips, and her throat swallows. Milk is poured for her. She drinks it.

They’re not treated differently than any of the other orphan children here on their birthdays. They don’t get special things either like new toys or special food. It’s just the same day as before. But today, Myla says there’s something special for Maella waiting in her private chamber and Maella is all too excited.

The glow of moonlight guides her steps toward Matron Myla’s chambers late that night. When the elder woman had summoned her, she knew it was time for her to give Maella her gift. Of course, Myla had to do it at night do the other kids wouldn’t get jealous and try to steal whatever she gives Maella away from her.

  “Come inside with me, child. I’ve something special to show you.” Maella finds Myla standing solemnly by the window, gazing up at the stars and gesturing her closer. “The babe I took in all those years past was no ordinary orphan. Your features alone betray the blood that runs through your veins-that of Aegon and his dragon riders,” Myla explains.

Mella’s eyes grow wide that Matron admits it. Maella’s always known she is a Targaryen. As Matron said, her features betray her blood. But she had never thought that Matron would ever reveal this to her. Maella just thought that Matron would keep it underneath her tongue until her death bed or something.

  “Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is your mother. For her safety and your own, it was deemed you must be hidden away from the intrigues of King’s Landing. But now, on the cusp of womanhood, I believe you are ready to claim your heritage.”

Maella struggles to take it all in. A princess? No mere shadowcity girl after all. Yet Myla is not done. “Tomorrow, you shall depart east. An ally of your mother’s house will take you into their protection at Pentos, where you may rediscover the destiny awaiting your dragon blood across the Narrow Sea.”

  “What? I don’t want to!”

  “You have to.”

Her mind spins with thoughts of her heritage, and only spins more when Myla presents to Maella an egg that was left with her. She unveils the stone egg, mottled with ancient markings.

Well now Maella guesses she is really a Targaryen if she had any doubts before.

~~~~

The dim light of dawn finds Maella awake and restless. Today she’ll depart the only home she’s ever known for 10 years. As she packs the few belongings she carries, her fingers linger on small treasures- a carved toy boat, smooth stones from the shore. These tokens of her past life are tucked safely away.

Myla helps Maella don a plain wool cloak to ward of coastal chills. With the dragon egg nestling securely in her pack, she’s ready at last. Well-wishers see her off at the docks with tears and blessings for the voyage, but mostly from the matrons. She clings to Myla for a long embrace, her anchor in the uncertainty ahead.

Setting sail on a Pentoshi trader ship, Maella stands at the prow and watch the shadowcity where she grew up recede into coastal mists. The sailors eye Maella’s Targaryen features curiously but keep their distance. Waves roll endlessly as salt spray whips her face. A thrilling sense of liberation fills her sails along with the wind.

Each day she spends on the boat brought new sights- desert dunes, fields bursting with saffron and olives, villages crowning distant cliffs. However, the realities of travel also take their toll. Storm winds toss the vessel, leaving her green-hued and barely able to stand. Meager rations and cramped quarters test Maella’s resolve. But at night, the egg’s glow soothes her aching body and mind.

After what felt an age at sea, Pentos’ high walls emerge onto the horizon. Her heart races at the sight of my destination. As the ship pulls into port, a cloaked figure awaits on the wharf, brown-haired and stern-faced. He eyes Maellaapprovingly before bowing. “My princess. Your protector awaits your arrival.”

And she remembers him. His brown wavy hair, his kind eyes, and his beard. She doesn’t know how but she remembers him.

When she was little, Maella remembers drowning in the sea- never being able to reach the surface. It felt like she would never live again. She was told to leave by the maester, telling Matron that the sea and fish stock may help Maella’s small frame at the time so she was sent away.

She remembers the day. She was filled with both excitement and trepidation. She had never seen the ocean up close, only in blurred paintings in dusty books. As the cart trundled over sun-bleached hills, Maella drank in my first tastes of salt on the wind.

The village of Saltpans was a ramshackle place, but its children fearlessly darted in and out of waves that crashed into pale sands. She watched shyly from the edge, feeling her cough stirring in the briny air. But soon enough, the swell of young voices and splashing drew her in, shoes and worries abandoned.

Maella remembered thinking the water like a living thing, surging around her legs. She splashed and laughed with a delight that surprised even herself. Something about the ocean’s roiling depths spoke to the dragon within. Paddling out farther each day, she seemed to strengthen under the suns’ warm rays.

But one afternoon, a rogue wave crested far larger than the rest. She was caught unaware as it crashed over her form, dragging Maella under in foaming swells. She was quickly lost to sight in the churning waters. She thrashed in panic, the bitter seawater burning her throat and lungs. Which way was up? Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision as exhaustion set in.

Just as Maella’s limbs grew numb and heavy, something grabbed her hand, warm-strong fingers interlaced with her own. Breaking the surface at last, she coughed harshly into the air once more. A man hauled her onto the shore, pounding her back as she retched water from her lungs.

  “You’re a fighter, little dove.” he grinned. Maella remembered him having nice wavy brown hair and a nice beard with nice white teeth.

So even now, she fears the water. She won’t go near it. She won’t touch it.

And so her tenure in the Free Cities begins as she followed her unknown escort into the enticing alleys of Pentos, towards an uncertain future. The manse that would be her new home looms tall and foreboding. As Maella crosses its threshold, a kindly voice calls out a greeting in a language she does not speak. An elegant woman bows low, her beauty strangely familiar.

  “You have your mother’s eyes. I am Sharis, once lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaenyra,” she says with a warm smile. Maella stares in wonder.

Chapter Text

Over a lavish supper, Sharis speaks fondly of my mother and her hopes for Westeros’ future. “Rhaenyra saw you as her greatest treasure. It is my honor to take care of you here.” she says.

I drink in tales of my royal lineage, but one question weighs heavy. “What will become of me now? Am I to hide here forever?” I ask Sharis.

Sharis tilts her head. “One day, you may choose to reclaim your throne across the water. For now, I teach you everything you need to know about your Targaryen family.”

  “No, I won’t! You can’t make me!” My shout echoes off the high walls of the manse as I faces off against Sharis. The kind lady-in-waiting sighed wearily.

  “Child, this is important for you to know. Your lineage-”

  “I don’t care about my lineage!” I snarl, silver hair flying wildly. “They were the ones who gave me away. Why should I care about being a stupid dragon?” Ever since I learned the forbidden truth of my birth, I had grown contemptuous of all things Targaryen. Sharis took my small hands gently.

  “My dear, your parents made a hard choice to protect you-”

I wrenched away. “They didn’t want me! None of it matters, I’m not one of them!” Tears prick my eyes, though I stubbornly refuse to let them fall.

Kneeling, Sharis met my anguished gaze evenly. “This is who you are, whether you wish it or not. Hiding from your past gains you nothing. But understanding it can give you strength.”

  “I don’t want their strength!” With that, I try to run from the room.

  “Maella, wait!” With speed belying her age, Sharis catches my right arm gently but firmly. I struggle, but the lady’s grip does not relent. “Please, child, you must hear the truth. Your parents did want you.” Sharis’ voice was soft but insistent. I ultimately halt my struggle to listen despite myself. “Your mother always dreamed of having a daughter. When you were born, her joy knew no bounds. But dark times had fallen over the kingdom, and your very life was in mortal danger as rival claimants sought power.” Sharis’ fingers tightened earnestly. “The decison to send you away near broke Rhaenyra’s heart. But she loved you too much to see you murdered. For weeks, her grief and mourning knew no end.”My eyes, so like my mother’s as Sharis has told me, shone with angry tears. But underlying was a glimmer of longing to know this missing piece of myself. Sharis presses on gently. “You need not forgive what was done. But please understand-‘twas out of a mother’s deepest love, not disregard, that she parted with her most precious treasure. Rhaenyra wanted you, sweetling. With all her dragon’s fire.”

Her words hung heavy in the fragrant air. Slowly, tentatively, my tiny fingers curled around Sharis’ steady palms.

~~~~

Under Sharis’ tutelage, I immersed myself in all things Valyrian-the history, culture, and customs of my ancestors. Hours are spent practicing high Valyrian, conversing with visiting dignitaries, and studying diplomatic texts. I absorbed every lesson eagerly, hungry to reclaim that knowledge that was stolen from me as an infant.

As my education advanced, so too did my abilities. I discovered a talent for healing herbs and remedies, often assisting Sharis in caring for Pentos’ smallfolk. My dreams also blossomed, allowing glimpses of faraway places and portents yet to pass. However, the greatest changes occurred within me.

My fiery nature had matured, yet questions still simmered. Each day, I grew taller and stronger under the Free City’s warm sun. My once frail frame thickening, pallor fading to an ivory glow. My dragon egg hatched and out spat a small dragon much like myself, quite small with white scales and beautiful red eyes. Long walks through Pentos’ sunny squares became evening swordplay lessons with a man Sharis hired, where I matched the warrior strike for strike with a blade.

While never gaining true valiance, my body was a weapon itself. I moved with a dancer’s grace, steel light as a feather in my sure hands. Karrem, his name, spoke proudly to visiting Lord of “the she-dragon’s” progress, and soon felt confident enough to begin introducing me at court.

There, I dazzled in the Magister’s courtiers with my poise, wit, and fluency in their customs. Rumors of me, the lost princess of King’s Landing, spread on whispering winds. I knew my education was near its end- now was the time to spread my wings into the greater dance awaiting across the narrow sea.

And then, my nineteenth name day came. It was a day I had waited for with both anticipation and trepidation. I was turning nineteen in exile and the final celebrations before my return to King’s Landing. Sharis had behaved mysteriously all morning, refusing to divulge any details of the surprise awaiting in the main hall at evening.

I had spent the day in pampering- a lavish herbal bath scented with jasmine, silk dresses of Targaryen red and black fitted to my curves. Sharis herself styles my long silver locks, fastening a gleaming pendant around my neck set with my family’s three-headed dragon.

  “A token to carry your House’s strength.” Sharis said proudly.

As twilight fell, I stood before the great doors, my heart in my throat. With a nod, Sharis threw them open to reveal the grand chamber bathed in soft braziers. A hush fell over the assembled guests, their eyes drawn to the far end of the hall….

There sat a man and woman who could only be ghosts stepping from one of my dreams. Clad in regal red and black, with hair fairer than platinum, features proud yet weary from battles untold. But I felt like a stranger gazing upon them.

When Rhaenyra rose with open arms, I found myself hesitating. “So it’s true, then.” I say, looking at them both. But politeness compels my feet forward into a hug, my body sort of stiff at first but relaxing after a few seconds. Pulling back, I meet Damon’s proud stare with my own guarded eyes. He placed a gentle hand to my jaw.

  “You grew well, little dragon.” He said in a voice roughened yet comforting.

~~~

I sat cross-legged before the great iron cage where my dragon slumbered. Its scaled sporting a nice mix between white and red since still growing, great leathery wings beginning to stretch wide. But for now she rests, as I softly crooned and fed morsels of charred meat between the bars.

My parent’s declaration was still fresh in my mind. Return to Westeros, to reclaim my birthright in King’s Landing. The lost princess restored at last. Everything I had been raised to achieve seemingly coming to fruition.

And yet, my heart remained tangled with thorns of uncertainty. What future awaited on those distant shores, in the city that had never known me? Could I find purpose in those foreign stones? Or more loneliness?

  “This place and shadowcity have nurtured me since infancy and childhood.” I sighed to my dragon, running pale fingers over the gleaming scales. “There I would be a stranger.”

The great reptilian eye blinked slowly at me, as if comprehending my turmoil. Smokey puffs of breath stirred my silver hair, wrapping my worries in warmth. Somehow my dragon’s soothing presence eased knots inside, if only for now.

Chapter Text

When at last the chance arose, I departed Pentos under starry skies, Lyrax's wings dark against the moon. As the last morn arrived to set sail on Daemon’s flagship, I stood ashen faced upon the docks. Sharis’ arms around my shaking frame.

  “You will do so well, Maella. All of King’s Landing shall know your flame.” the lady says proudly through her own tears.

With a final embrace, I turned to board the waiting vessel, Lyrax wheeling overhead. As Pentos faded into the mist, I clung to the rails, heart torn in two. But my so called destiny awaited across the waves, and there was no returning now to the past. Only the future and all its mysteries. The sea voyage passes in a blur of swirling seas and moonlit nights spent wandering the top deck with Lyrax by my side. I keep largely to myself, observing all with my lambent gaze and committing to memory each crew member’s name and duty.

Only Daemon seems able to draw me into easy conversation, regaling me tales of past battles on Dragonstone shores as they sailed ever southward. A part of me still held the brooding man at arm’s length, yet another recognized in him a stubborn fire that calls to my own dragon’s blood. When first the craggy coast of Westeros emerged on the horizon, I can’t contain a flutter of both anticipation and trepidation within my chest. Soon the massive city itself comes into view, its great stone battlements crowning Aegon's High Hill like gnarled claws.

The beating of dragon wings signaled our approach long before the Red Keep came into view through the early evening haze. I peer over my fathers shoulder, gripping tighter as his dragon banks sharply to avoid detection. Below, the massive castle sits shrouded in shadows, candles in distant windows flicker like fireflies as night descends.

  “Just a bit longer, little dragon.” Daemon calls back over the rushing wind. I nod, hunkering down against his armored back. I dare not speak for fear of being overheard, though my heart thunders as loud as my father’s dragon’s wings.

We had landed well outside the city under cover of dusk, my parents and I dismounting hastily before continuing on foot through narrow alleys and side streets. I struggle to keep pace with Rhaenyra and Daemon’s long strides, mindful of hands and eyes that might recognize us in the fading light. At every turn I expected to find Goldcloaks waiting to spirit me away, back to Pentos.

As we draw near the castle, Daemon signals a halt, pulling me and my mother into a shadowed nook. He peers around the corner, eyes scanning the perimeter wall above for patrols. Seeing none, he beckons us forward in a low crouch. Together, we hurry across the remaining stretch of open ground, fleeing into the deeper darkness under the stone arches of the postern gate.

Here our quest grows more dangerous, for within the castle walls we will most likely be spotted. Father leads us swiftly through twisting corridors, up staircases and across parapets until at last we reach the kitchens.

  “Wait here.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to Rhaenyra's brow and then mine before slipping noiselessly away.

My chest heaves, nerves singing with fear and anticipation. Beside me, my mother lays a hand on my back. We stand in tense silence, listening for any sign we’ve been discovered. After what seems an age, Daemon reappears with a maidservant in tow.

  “Corwyn will see that you are hidden down here.” Rhaenyra says softly. “We’ll come for you when the timing is right.

With a last embrace, I allow Corwyn to quietly usher me through the appointed room, feet leaden with reluctance. At the door to my now bedchamber, Corwyn squeezes my shoulder. “You’re home now, my lady. Try to rest.”

I nod. Home. But for how long, with the realm so unsettled and my very presence placing all I love in danger? I can only pray that on the morrow, my family will still be standing.

~~~

Rhaenyra paced nervously in the royal chambers, awaiting the arrival of her sons. It had been over two decades since the tragic night at the Red Keep, when I had been lost and presumed dead. But word of course traveled as I came back to Westeros. And Rhaenyra knew my brothers have heard.

At last, a knock came at the door. “Enter,” Rhaenyra called. Her eldest son, Jace stepped inside than Luke, both bowing respectfully.

  “You called us, mother?” said Luke.

Rhaenyra steeled her nerves. “There is something I need to tell you.”

Much like my mother was doing, I stand nervously in the royal gardens, awaiting my first meeting with my brothers. Though raised apart, word of their fierce nature and skill in combat, and of course taking out Prince Aemond's eye, had reached even Pentos.

A servant came to fetch Maella a few moments later, telling me to approach with caution as my brothers did not know that there was another of them. I had made my way to my mother’s chambers. I stopped outside the heavy oak doors, suddenly feeling shy. It had been two decades since I’ve been home. A few days ago I didn’t even know I had other siblings.

Steeling my nerves, I gave a gentle knock.

  “Enter,” came my mother Rhaenyra's voice from within. I pushed open the doors and stepped inside. My brothers Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey are clustered around the fireplace, deep in conversation. But at the sight of me, they leapt to their feet with smiles.

“Hello.” I whispered.

After I gave them my hugs and departed secretly back to the kitchens, I keep to the quieter corridors. My mind is still uneasy after the previous days events and todays. As I walk lost in thought, I turn the corner and collide straight into a solid mass.

I stumble back with a gasp, looking up to find myself face to face with Prince Aemond Targaryen. His single eye stares down at me coldly, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Watch where you’re going.” he snaps.

So this is who I am to marry apparently? I freeze, remembering how I’m supposed to act before I can spit any insults back at him. Of all people to run into unexpectedly, it had to be my betrothed. “I’m sorry, my prince.” I stammer, dropping into a hasty curtsy. “Please forgive me, I was not paying attention to my surroundings.”

Aemond tilts his head, eyeing me carefully. I hold my breath, heart pounding. But he just grunts. “Keep a better watch next time, girl.” he turns away but stops suddenly, turning back and looking at me consideringly but then sighs, giving a rueful laugh before walking away completely.

I breath a sigh of relief, carrying on as I was doing beforehand.

Chapter Text

The morning bustle in the kitchens was already in full swing by the time Rhaenyra sweeps in, dressed in a rich embroider riding dress with a thick fur-lined cloak thrown over her shoulders against the chill. I had risen early along with the other cooks and maids, and partially unable to sleep after the perilous journey of the night before, and so I found myself helping the cooks portion out bread and cutting vegetables for the midday meal.

I look up in surprise at my mother’s entrance, suddenly self-conscious underneath the curious gazes of the servants.

“Princess, how might I assist you this fine day?” the head cook asks with a bow, but Rhaenyra waves her off.

“I’ve only come to borrow one of your maids for a spell,” She replies graciously. “You, when you’re able, please?”

I hastily whip my hands on my apron, offering the cook an apologetic smile as I hurry to join my mother. Rhaenyra leads us both from the bustling kitchens out into the deserted solar, closing the doors firmly behind us for privacy. Only then did she turn to me, placing strong but gentle hands on my shoulders.

Rheanyra’s violet eyes luminous in the deepening gloom. “There is something you must know, sweet girl.”

I felt an unnamed worry stir, seeing my mother’s solemn mien. I nodded for Rhaenyra to continue.

“When you first came into this world, all hung in turmoil’s balance. Your very life was threatened by ambitious rivals.” Rhaenyra’s tone is leaden with old grief. “To keep you from harm, a bargain was struck. Your fate is sealed in promises not my own,” Rhaenyra admitted heavy-heated. My violet eyes, ageless as Valyria, held knowing but also defiance. No cage could hold my flame for long. “Your hand was promised to Prince Aemond, brother to Prince Aegon, still in the cradle as you.” Rhaenyra took my hands gently. “To buy your safety. The promise ensured you’d know nurturing hearth, not slaughter on some usurper’s blade.”

It’s not as though I could even say no. It was promised and nothing is as stupid as going against the Queen’s wishes.

~~~~~~~~

At the moment, I felt so many different emotions at once. It was overwhelming. I was frustrated about having to potentially leave my family and upset that out of everyone, it was Aemond I was going to be betrothed to. Still, I understood why my mother would take the offer to ensure my survival.

But soon those emotions were over triumphed by the rumors flying around. The wildest rumors that were flying through the corridors were that Prince Daemon had ripped Uncle Vaemond’s head from his shoulders with his bare hands for insults hurled at my mother.

I would like to think that ones the truest out of them all as the others made me laugh because each one seemed more far-fetched than the others. Although, as far as I was concerned, they were all true regarding Daemon. And now, everyone will have to be gathered in one room for a dinner as Grandsire requested. I thought it weird that he would want a family dinner just mere hours after my father, his brother, beheaded Lord Vaemond.

The news of my father murdering my uncle had been significantly less interesting than the announcement of no less two political betrothals. Between Baela and Rhaena Targaryen to Jace and Luke. ‘So now everyone’s getting married’ I thought to myself. Although, it had hardly come as a surprise, and given the controversy surrounding the Driftmark succession, Rhaenyra had played the only hand she had left. Prince Aemond though would not stop looking at me as Aegon whispered something to my brother Jace.

This wasn’t the first time I have helped serve in the castle kitchens since my secret return, but I still feel a thrill of nerves each time I carry a laden tray out into the bustling dining hall. Here, I’m just another faceless serving girl among scores of others, and anonymity was my only protection.

I balance a heaping platter of vegetables and fish picking my way nimbly between the long trestle tables. Most noble lords and ladies have already taken their leave, but a handful of higher-ranked retainers linger, chatting and tearing off chunks of bread to sop up remaining gravy.

I weave between them delivering portions, eyes studiously downcast lest I meet a familiar gaze. So focused I was that at first I didn’t notice the hand darting out to snag my wrist, yanking my off balance. The try slips from my fingers with a crash as I flounder, only just catching myself on the table’s edge to avoid landing face-first in a puddle of spilled wine.

  “Easy there. Wouldn’t want such a pretty thing as you to come to harm.” drawled a deep voice above me. Heart in my throat, I look up to find myself trapped between strong-armed, wine-flushed Prince Aegon. His breath washes sulfurous over me as he leers, edging closer. “Not when there are…better uses for that pretty mouth, hmm?”

There was music playing from a quartet in the corner, a lively tune that Princess Helaena and Prince Jacerys were dancing to but they stopped when I spilled everything. My mother and father were together at the table, holding hands affectionately and speaking in low voices but looking straight at me.

Queen Alicent and her father, The Hand were equally in each other’s confidence on the opposite side of the table. Rhaena was sitting next to Luke and of course Baela was sitting next to the spot where Jace would eventually sit back down. I look at Aemond who is smirking behind his goblet of wine.

  “Your needed in the kitchens, girl.” One of the cooks I recognize tells me. I nearly weep with relief at the stern command. Aegon scowls but releases his grip, and I scramble back a step to find the cook glowering darkly over the scene, fists planted on ample hips. “The larders won’t stock themselves. Come away now, girl- I’ll have no dawdling while duties go wanting!”

I flee gladly, not daring to look back even as raucous laughter and bawdy jests follow in my wake. Safe in the warm chaos of the kitchens once more, I slump against the wall, shaking all over as terror slowly releases its grip. But I know it had been close- I can not risk such exposure again.

I hurry to finish my tasks in the kitchens, keeping my head down to avoid drawing any further attention. But my mind continues to race with what has happened.

Aemond wants me to be afraid of him, I know that. And yes, he frightens me, but I’ve always been scared, since the day I was born and taken away from here. I was raised by a woman who kept my lineage from me and then shipped off to somewhere new to thus discover the family I will now be trapped by most likely forever. I live with that fear, let it settle into my bones, and ignore it. If I didn’t pretend not to be scared, I would hide under my bed in this castle forever. I would lie there and scream until there was nothing left of me. I refuse to do that. I won’t do that.

I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal.

I want to best them all.

I want to become so much more than a caged dragon.

However many more days this will take will be absolute hell.

Chapter Text

After the tense confrontation between Aemond and I, I found myself too restless to stay cooped up inside any longer. The following afternoon, I slip away to wander the royal gardens, hoping the fresh air and natural surroundings will soothe my frazzled nerves.

The gardens are vast and beautiful, meticulously landscapes with winding paths, ornamental bushes and flowerbeds just starting to bloom with the arrival of spring. I stroll aimlessly, drinking in the peacefulness as a light breeze tosses my hair underneath my hood.

As I walk, the sounds of laughter draw me towards a small ornamental lake at the center of the gardens. Two young children are playing there happily, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. The first of Helaena and Aegon's blood. I smile, remembering my own lost childhood.

But then, I notice little Jaehaera has wandered too close to the water’s edge. Where are her parents? Well, Aegon I don’t expect to give a shit I mean, word had spread all the way to Pentos how reckless he is but Helaena I thought would at least be here to watch them.

The two children continue to play a game of tag and when the little girl looks over her shoulder to see how close behind the little boy is to catching her, she’s completely void of her surroundings.

Just as I’m about to shout for their names in a desperate attempt to bring them away from the edge of the open lake, Jaehaerys continues to chase Jaehaera and with her not looking where shes going, and with a startled cry, her small foot slips on the mossy stones and she pitches over with a splash. The girl surfaces, thrashing with panic as her hands keep slipping beneath the waves she’s creating.

I swear I stop breathing when I see her little body fall below the surface of the water and the deafening scream that leaves Jaehaerys's lips has bile rising up my throat.

  “Fuck.” I mutter under my breath before I’m kicking off my shoes, leaving them in the middle of the garden and spring towards the lake. Seconds later, I find myself at the edge of the lake beside Jaehaerys, panicking when I notice that Jaehaera has yet to resurface again. Jaehaerys tries to cling onto me for some kind of reassurance but I’m having to push him away as I prepare myself to jump in as nobody else is stepping up to help. There’s a small audience of Red Keep people that have gathered to see what the commotion is about but no one helps. “Bless the gods,” I grumble and just as I’m about to throw myself in, Jaehaera resurfaces with a loud gasp and a cry for help.

I’m afraid of water. I hate it. But this girl is going to be traumatized. I shed my outer skirts, dashing full-tilt and leap into the lake, my head submerging under water for a few seconds before I’m resurfacing with a gasp, mumbling curse words at the cold temperature nipping at my skin. The water is ice cold but I knifed through it easily, covering the distance in powerful strokes.

I’m quickly looking around for Jaehaera, my heart shattering when I see her so desperately fighting to keep her head above the water, kicking her feet which makes her move further away from me. I move quickly to her and when I’m wrapping my arm around her, he’s quickly clinging onto me, violently coughing and trembling. “I got you.” I whisper to her as she rests on my hip, arms around my neck. Her cries are inconsolable, she can hardly get a breath in, her skin pale. When I travel the short distance back to the edge of the lake, someone is grabbing Jaehaera so I can climb out. Jaehaerys is attached to my leg now, sobbing as he watches everything unfold.

Still no sign of Helaena or better yet the Queen.

Two other strangers help me out and I mumble a small thank you before I’m taking Jaehaera back into my arms and cradling her, gently patting her back as she continues coughing up water whilst scanning the garden for someone, anyone to come and care for these poor children.

Some gentlemen is shrugging off his cape and wrapping it around the both of us in an attempt to stop our teeth from chattering and warm us up.

  “Where is Princess Helaena? Where is the Queen?” I yell when Jaehaera suddenly falls silent, not crying or screaming, just coughing and trying to get a full breath into his lungs. The people who crowd around us all are reaching to find the Princess or the Queen.I pick the other kid up on my other hip. Jaehaerys is immediately leaning forward and pressing his little palm to his sisters cheek causing Jaehaera to give her brother a small smile.

  “Mumma.” Jaehaera quietly mumbles as I move the mans cape from over my shoulder and wrap it around the little girl, my main worry being her. She’s so pale, her little teeth chattering, her whole body shaking.

  “Jaehaera, who did you come to the gardens with?” I ask removing Jaehaerys's hand from her face and looks between us both.

  “Dyana.”

I nod my head. I scan the gardens in hopes of finding her somewhere. “Do you know where she is?”

  “Went with daddy.”

  “Should’ve known.” I mumble. It makes me so sick that Aegon would take the only watch his kids have, being none-the-wiser that one of his twins almost drowned. He’s endangering them for what? More wine? Sex? Probably both.

  “I want mumma.” Jaehaera cries into my shoulder, a bit more life in her now as she begins to warm up.

  “I’ll go.” One of the people say and I nod, bouncing them both in my arms. Once Helaena finally arrives, I watch as her eyes widen in surprise as she looks at her daughter, soaking wet and crying in my arms, then at me who’s also drenched before she’s noticing Jaehaerys in my other arm.

Chapter Text

Two more days of hiding was two more days where I was scared of someone finding out my identity. And two more days where I had to serve Aegon and the rest of his and my family.

But then everything changed the night of the third day.

It’s quiet when King Viserys dies. The kingdom as a whole asleep, faint winds gently brushing curtains from the open windows. The Red Keep was solemn with his last breath and conflict soon emerged. Unrest grew with his heir Prince Aegon mysteriously missing.

  “Wake up.”

I fight the urge to remain asleep, clawing my way to consciousness as I’m being shaken roughly.

  “Maella, you must wake up.”

The urgency in my voice has my eyes springing open at the voice. The night is still heavy through my windows as I can see. It’s not yet dawn. Looking up into who ever's face is waking me, I can tell something is wrong.

  “What’s happened?” I ask. I rub my eyes as the face comes into full view. It’s one of my maids.

  “The King is dead and now you are to be wed to Aemond.” She whispers.

My eyes grow wide. “How do you know this?” I ask.

  “One of the kitchen boys was out walking through the castle when he saw the Queen crying and running to her father’s chambers. He confirmed it with the Maester leaving the King’s room.”

I take a few seconds to gather myself. Now with the King dead, it’s my mothers turn as successor. However I know the Queen. She won’t let Rhaenyra ascend the throne unchallenged. No, she wants Aegon on the throne no matter what and no matter how reluctant Aegon is to take it.

  “Who found the King?” I whisper to my maid, keeping my voice above a breath to avoid any one hearing.

The woman is flushed and her hair a mess. “The Queen.”

I’m already moving. Throwing the sheet off of myself, I run past my maid and out into the corridor.

  “My lady!” she calls after me but I pay her no mind.

By this point, the Queen has probably already assembled the small council and be putting her own plans into action. I have to warn Princess Rhaenyra.

My bare feet slap quietly on the stones, propelling myself up from the kitchens and around the dizzying circles of the spiral staircases and the halls. I run into the main corridors and by the time I arrive to my mothers room, my breath was coming in great gasps and I skid to a stop.

Taking one last breath to steady myself, I walk towards the door I need to get past.

  “Halt!” The voice of my mothers guard demands. “Declare yourself.” he hasn’t bothered to raise his sword.

But before he can ask me anything else, I swing my knee upwards, making contact with in between his thighs and he crumples to the ground. He drops his sword and I take it from the floor, hitting the back of his head with the butt of it. I twist the knob and emerge into the Prince and Princesses bedchamber. My father awakes with the crash. He’s half-dressed, thankfully, pulling on one boot and grabbing his sword with the other. “Stop! It’s me!” I say, raising my hands.

He looks shocked to see me.

  “I-I’m sorry to have to tell you this like…well this but..” I spare a glance to my mother where she’s extracting herself from the sheets. “Grandsire is dead.”

Daemon draws himself up to his full height and narrows his eyes, both of us glancing quickly to Princess Rhaenyra who seems to have frozen.

  “So then why are you delivering us this news like…well that.” Daemon asks, eyeing the door.

  “Because right now the Queen and the small council are locked in the council chamber planning a coup to usurp my mothers and your wife’s rightful Throne.”

Cold fury passes over my father’s face as he rushes to my mother’s side. Rhaenyra lifts her eyes to look at me. “Then we will play a game of our own.” she says as Daemon places a kiss to her forehead.

I tilt my chin up to meet her gaze. “What do you propose we do?” I ask.

Striding for the door, Daemon motions for me to follow him as Rhaenyra turns back to the bed to get dressed. When we’re in the corridor, Daemon grasps me by the upper arm and leans in.

  “Remember everything that Sharis had taught you- how to command respect, to never show doubt or fear. You are the blood of the Dragon; now you must prove it.”

I raise my chin and straighten my spine. “Let them try their worst.”

!!!!~!!!!

They found Aegon soon after trying to board a ship. But I couldn’t care less.

My maids helped me bathe. They scrubbed away any possible dirt that could be on my skin. My hair was washed and then brushed until it shone like spun silver. As the sun continued to rise, I remained in the bathing room with my maids as we awaited instruction.

A soft knock sounds at the door just after the sun reached it’s peak and one of my maids opened it just a crack. It’s another maid delivering a new gown, new shoes, and new undergarments. My maid takes them without a word and closed the door on the servants questions. Rising from where I have been sitting on a stool, I reach for the dress.

It’s a beautiful red gown of silk and samite flowing like blood. Wasting no time, knowing that my summons could come at any time, my maids and myself dressed me quickly. The silken undergarments felt like a kiss against my skin and the corset uncomfortable as always but I endure it. The gown sits correctly and the sleeves glimmer at my wrists as sewed in jewels glow against the sunlight. They also adorn my throat and glimmer.

  “No going back now.” I mutter as I turn around so one of my maids can braid my hair. Leaving the majority of it down, the maid loops and braids the strands.

As the hours pass and the sun dims, we bid our time. We listen for bustling of the kitchens, keep our ears tuned for shouts or screams coming from higher within the keep. Or even worse, the screams and roars of dragons. Anything that would give me or my maids some indication of what was happening between the two factions of the royal families.

Staring down at my red gown I know which side I’m on.

My own.

Several hours later, an insistent knock came at the door. This time, I answer.

The Kingsguard standing there is dumbfounded. “You look beautiful my lady. I’ve been sent to retrieve you.” Erryk says.

I nod and fling a brief smile back at my maids before following Erryk out through the kitchens. Heads turn as I emerge and shock whispers follow.

  “May I ask exactly what’s going on?” I ask, slightly breathless from the stairs as we walked through the quiet passages.

Erryk looks at me uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I am not privy to that information my lady.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Can you tell me where we’re going then?”

He remained silent, striding around the corner and up another passageway. Everyone is gone. All passages are empty. Where is everyone exactly?

  “Surely you can tell me who I am being summoned for.” Erryk gives me a shrewd look. “Other than my father, I mean.”

Despite his silence, the destination becomes clearer when the doors to the throne room loom before me. The doors are closed but there is a buzz behind it that let me know the people who had been missing from everywhere else within the castle are currently gathered inside.

Oh fuck.

I smooth the front of my dress and move my hair back from my shoulders. We slow to a stop in front of the doors. Curling my hands into fists absentmindedly, I will them to stop fucking shaking.

  “Princess?” Erryk asks me quietly.

Reminding myself that people are counting on me and furthermore, this is what I’ve been raised since eleven to do, I set my jaw and uncurl my fists. I won’t be afraid despite the incessant voice in my head telling me I am.

I look at Ser Erryk and say “Listen to me and listen to me carefully, Ser Erryk. If things go badly, make sure there will be a sword in my hand.”

He is taken aback but he nods seriously. “I will, my lady.”

I face the doors, knowing that my livelihood will be changed forever and my future lays just beyond those doors. “I’m ready.” I breathe and with that the doors open with a deafening crack and the throne room falls eerily silent.

Refusing to lower my eyes, I stride confidently into the quiet room, chin held aloft and school my face into an impassive mask at the sight that greets me. I walk in there like I belong because..well technically I do. My silver hair cascades down my back, in stark contrast to my red dress.

Chapter Text

Almost every courtier in residence at the Red Keep is gathered, I can make out Queen Alicent standing at the front of the room, just in front of the steps that led up to the Iron Throne, with her children and her father. On the other side of the room stands Jace, Luke and even little Joffrey. My aunt Rhaenys stands a little further back with protective arms around Baela and Rhaena. Little Viserys and Aegon are not present.

Regardless of where people are standing, every head turns to look in my direction as I make my way down the center, and I watch as jaws fall and brows furrow as I pass. I don’t know why it’s such a shock. I keep my eyes on my father who is standing at the foot of the Iron Throne-where my mother sits now.

At the sight, I allow myself a smile. Whatever my father’s plan is, it’s working so far I guess. Rhaenyra is in her rightful place. As I make my way to the front of the crowd, I take a change and glance to the side and saw the utter disbelief on Alicent's face, her furious eyes flickering between Daemon and I. Aegon was smirking and Helaena is staring at the ceiling. Despite polite smiles, I can sense whispers and speculation brewing behind cupped hands about me, this newfound princess rising unexpectedly from the mists.

But Aemond. Oh god Aemond.

He looks like he’s on the hilt of being ready to put a sword through my gut.

I offer him a mocking tilt of my head and I return my eyes to my father. As I reach the foot of the steps, I sink into the lowest bow I can manage. My years of etiquette training paying off in allowing me to accomplish it both speedily and gracefully. When I rise, Daemon’s hand is level with my nose.

As I take it, I realize that my hands have stopped shaking and I exchange a small smile with my father. When I’m standing on the same step as he is, he turns me to face the room and I hold my breath.

The slightest squeeze of his hand to mine steadies me.

Rhaenyra addresses the gathered crowd from her seat on the throne. “People of King’s Landing, my esteemed Lord and Ladies of the realm,” her voice booms throughout the room. “Today we mourn the loss of a great King. My father. Viserysthe Peaceful.”

I look between the faces staring up at us. I see Rhaena barely containing a smile, Queen Alicent whispering in her ear begging for an explanation. I note Aegon's furrowed brow as he attempts to figure out through his drunkenness why I look so familiar.

Rhaenyra continues. “I had called you here this evening to make an important announcement. Today, we not only strengthen our bonds of family but also unity. By reinforcing our late King’s, my father’s, wishes that I inherit his throne and continue his good work throughout the Seven Kingdoms. As you know, tensions have grown in these turbulent times between those who would see my brother ascend the Iron Throne, and those still loyal to my claim.”

The crowd erupts into murmurs at this not-so-subtle dig at Aegon and his supporters. Rhaenyra raises a hand for silence once more. “As announced several days ago, my sons Jacaerys and Lucerys will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, once again uniting the ancient houses of Targaryen and Velaryon like the king would’ve wanted and what I, your Princess wants. The line of succession will of course remain firm in its strength.” A smattering of applause follows this statement and I lick my drying lips. With no idea what my mother is about to say next, I feel like I may collapse. The only thing holding me steady is staring at the ground and feeling my fathers continuous grip on my hand. “However-” The room is silent with the pause, the tension so thick it could be cut with a my sword. “Tonight I wish to reintroduce one who was long thought lost, in the hopes of mending fences and renewing old bonds of friendship and alliance.” I turn to look at my mother who nods at me.

My heart is pounding and my blood sounds like its roaring in my ears. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life. This is the moment I’ve been raised for.

Daemon squeezes my hand and when I turn to look at him, he’s smiling at me with such affection that I think my heart will indeed burst because of it. I don’t want fancy dresses or a crown or a title even, I just want my father to look at me like that from now on.

My mother rises to her feet. “My lords, my ladies. I present to you my beloved daughter- Maella of House Targaryen, first-born of my body. She who had been hidden for her protection these many years, but has now safely returned to her rightful place at my side.”

Rhaenyra extends a hand which I take gracefully, coming to stand beside my proud mother before the sea of rapt faces. “From this day forth, let no man or woman question her place or lineage. She stands as my second claim to the Iron Throne. I expect all here to offer their allegiance and respect to my daughter, as if her due as a Princess of my blood After me, she will inherit the Iron Throne.”

Chaos ensued. I felt the true weight of my name and title settle onto my shoulders, and I shed the kitchen maid status like a molted skin as people shouted and clamored with questions and raised confusion.

My father lifted the hand he still held to his lips and kisses it. I smile up at him and then turn to look upon my mother who is back sitting on the Iron Throne.

  “Silence.” She screams, her voice cutting through the air like glass.

Daemon gives me gentle nudges and I descend the stairs to take my place next to my three brothers. Jace greets me with a grin and nudges me with his elbow. I try but ultimately fail to keep the smile off my face. Alicent looks like a dragon herself, ready to breathe fire and her father looks as though he’s thinking of ways to distinguish the flame before his daughter gets too ahead of herself.

  “Ready to claim your birthright, sister?” Jace whispers through gritted teeth, rocking back and forth on his heels.

I honestly thought I would be but now that it’s happening, now that I’m here in a beautiful red dress and staring at my family and everyone knowing I am Rhaenyra's daughter, I’m not.

I smile serenely up at my parents, the new Queen and King Consort of the seven Kingdoms and I reply “Absolutely. I was born ready.” But as I look at the Greens I have to suppress a shudder. With the way Aemond is looking at me, like he wants to cut me up and eat my liver, seeing me truly for the first time, I really wish I could be seen a little less right now. Our betrothal has taken on new meaning now that my royal lineage is confirmed.

  “I will hold Court the day after my father’s burial and we shall announce my official coronation then. Until that time, Lord and Ladies, we will enter a period of mourning for the late King Viserys.” Rhaenyra announces.

As the crowd files out meekly from the Throne Room, it all came into place for me. Daemon has overshadowed Alicent's plot to install Aegon as King. Daemon has effectively provided a more interesting scandal to occupy everyone’s minds while he focuses on establishing Rhaenyra as the sole ruler of the Seven Kingdoms like she should be. Sparing a glance for Aegon, I quietly think that there’s less of a person suited to rule a Kingdom. I mean looking at him I’m not surprised that he’s probably half-drowned in cups. Why on earth his mother thought that she should have ruled instead of Rhaenyrais ludicrous.

The heavy doors to the room closes with an ominous finality and I finally face my family. Opening my mouth, ready to speak words that I hope will be halfway eloquent, Alicent beats me to it.

  “What game are you playing at now? Naming her your heir after all these years?”

Rhaenyra turns to her calmly. “There is no game, Alicent. Maella is my blood, rightful heir.”

  “Then why have you never mentioned this before?” Alicent hisses.

  “Are you really asking her that question? After everything you have called into question about the Queen’s sons?” Daemon replies sardonically.

  “You watch your tongue.” Aemond spits, advancing on Daemon.

Jace, Luke and I step forward, all three of us ready to defend our mother. Daemon remains unmoving, the look in his eyes communicating to everyone in the room how easy he thought it would be to cut Aemond down where he stood. Alicentheld up a hand to her son and turns her gaze to me. But I don’t back down.

  “I’m revoking the promise of your daughter to my son.”

  “You cannot. While it pleases you, the realm knows the truth-and my daughter is home where she belongs. I am Queen, you cannot revoke what a Queen has put in place but the Queen herself.”

Alicent takes a step forward and my brothers form a protective circle around me. I even feel Baela and Rhaena move closer, their grandmother swiftly following suit. But it’s my mother who speaks. She makes her way calmly down the steps from her throne, struggling to balance properly with the weight of her pregnancy upon her, she fixes Alicent with a look of pure pity.

  “If I had told you about my daughter’s birth on the day that she was brought into the world instead of when you came to me thinking you had an almighty secret, you would’ve whispered poisonous words into my father’s ear and had her shipped off to Dorne or worse, killed on the way there.” I swallow nervously. “The next time you threaten one of my children, I will have you imprisoned."

Then Alicent backed down, retreating into the grasp of her father who is looking at me in a calculating way that I hate. I look at Aegon who is already bored of the proceedings and is searching for a chair to slump into.

The circle backs off as Rhaenyra is joined by Daemon and when my mother turns her gaze onto me, my feet carry me towards the new Queen of their own accord. I fold myself into my mother’s embrace, one that I have never been able to enjoy in public or private. Retreating with a small kiss to her mother’s soft cheek, I once again turn to my family.

As everyone claims me as their blood, and Alicent, Her father, Aegon and Helaena walk out of the room without declaring me as theirs, Aemond is the first to grab me by my arm.

  “You may be apart of the royal family but you are no kin to me.”

  “Careful. You’re speaking to your future wife with that tongue.”

Aemond clasps his hands behind his back, leaning towards me. “Do be careful on your way up, betrothed. It is an awfully long fall back down.”

  “Well it’s a good thing you’ll be up there too to help me.”

Drawing his eye off of me, he follows the rest of his family out of the throne room, leaving me feeling brave that I just said that to him. As the Blacks stood there in silence, I knew they all felt the weight of change settle upon their shoulders. And they knew that it would not be for the better.

The reign of Viserys the Peaceful has ended and the reign of Queen Rhaenyra The Realms Delight has just begun.

Chapter Text

  “Maella, wake up.”

I fought the urge to do what they said. I’m sleeping in an actual bed that keeps me warm throughout the night and I had a good dream for once.

  “Come on, get up!”

I’m not being shaken gently, it’s rough. But it’s extremely familiar about the way they’re waking me. I groan, finally getting enough motivation to get myself up. I blink sleepily, trying to look at who is shaking me as the moonlight shines through the windows.

  “Jace?” I mumble groggily. He’s already throwing clothes at me.

  “Hurry. Get dressed. We must take the back stairs as we need to make it to the Queen and King concert in time.”

Fear flows throughout me as I sit up. “What do you mean?” I fling the covers off of me and for once through the chaos I’m not waking up with a bad back or sore shoulders.

  “Daemon’s scheming wasn’t enough. Oldtown had already called its banners before mother took the throne. King’s Landing is almost under siege.” He says, flinging a pair of leather boots at me before rummaging through my wardrobe, flinging coats and capes until he finds what he’s looking for.

My heart is pounding. This can’t be real. This can’t…be possible. Just a couple hours ago my mother was sitting on the throne with the Lords and Ladies of the Court bowing to her and declaring me as her next heir.

Jace read the look on my face. "Alicent's father the Hand. He gathered the Lords of the great houses together last night. Three of them are…dead.”

My mouth goes dry as I look at him. Jace grabbed everything and then grabbed my hand, slipping away into the dark. “Wait, Jace-”

  “Daemon got word of the plan from Sir Erryk before the Kings guard came knocking at their door.”

  “Jace-” I say again but he ignores me once again. My blood runs cold. My mother really has been usurped. As we reach the underground level the great shadow of Balerion's skull looms ahead of us. Jace and I both spare a glance at the great skull.

  “All of our dragons remain on Dragon stone and they have Vhagar. Even if we tried to fight, we would lose. Better to flee and regroup on Dragon stone, then launch an attack when we have better chance of winning.”

  “Jace, please, I need to tell you something!” I gasped between breaths, my voice filled with urgency.

Jace, focused on our escape, glances back at me briefly. “Not now, Maella! We need to get out of here before they find we’re gone.”

But I can’t let this moment pass. I know that every second counts, that our lives are at stake. I grab Jace's arm, forcing him to stop in his tracks just outside the castle walls. My eyes pleading with him for just a moment of his time.

  “I can’t go any further, Jace,” I confess, my voice trembling. “I’m married to Aemond, I can’t just leave. And we can’t bring him with us. With mother gone, I’m the Queen now.

Jace's face contorts with a mixture of surprise and frustration. “What are you saying, Maella? We can’t leave you here. If you stay here, you’ll die! And I can’t leave you again, sister. We-we just got you back.”

Tears well in my eyes as I struggle to find the right words. “I know, Jace. But I’ve been promised safety here. Alicent has to keep her word. Aemond is dangerous, and if he discovers I tried to leave, he will stop at nothing.”

But Jace shakes his head and grabs me, throwing me over his shoulder. He really is a Strong son. “Nope. You’re coming with us.”

  “Jace!” I gasp, the breath in my lungs coming sharply in the morning air and with exertion. He carried me along the street as the sun began to rise. By some miracle we made it to the docks without recognition. Jace set me down and we scanned the empty docks. I realized we would have to make a break for it. “Go!” I breathed, pushing Jace ahead of me in the direction of the ship. No sooner had we fled the cover of the barrels that an arrow whizzes past my ear. “Go! Faster!” I urge Jace into a full sprint through the open docks. Another arrow misses my shoulder, narrowly, and I risk to catch a glance behind. I can hear the sound of hooves clattering on the cobblestones and I see Aemond astride the horse, bowstring taut with another arrow aimed at me. “Go to the left!” I shout to Jace just as the arrow flies through the air where my brother had been moments before. Jace is faster than I am. His legs longer. He’s going to reach the ship before I do. As I run, my blood pumping, I see him slow down but I don’t give him the chance to. “Don’t!” I yell to him. “Get on the ship!”

Just then, my father’s face appears over the side of the ship. I see his eyes calculating and narrow as he watches me and my brother sprint for the ship, Aemond in hot pursuit. He leans over the side and calls to Jace, urging him on. As I hear the sound of hooves gaining on me, I understand that neither of us will be able to outrun Aemond. I skid to a stop before I reach the wooden dock, Jace still hurrying toward Daemon’s cries, arms and legs pumping. I locked eyes with my father and nod once. He looks at me with a pained expression.

I grabbed the sword Jace had given me thankfully and taking a deep breath, I turn to face Aemond, unsheathing the sword. He reigns his horse in and flings his bow to the ground, pulling the quiver of arrows off his back with a grin.

  “You clearly don’t understand how a pursuit works. When someone gives chase, you’re supposed to run.”

I roll my shoulders back, hoping that the run down here warmed up my muscles some more. “Well, I’m not a coward. I don’t need to prove myself by taking a dragon I thought was my right. And I’ve never been known to run from a good fight.” I flex my wrist, swinging my sword.

  “Maella!”

I hear the shout from the ship. Good, he’s made it onboard. Steeling myself and watching as Aemond slips down from his horse and appear with his own sword. The rising sun glints off the blade. I plant my feet on the ground. “Run, Jace!”

  “No, Maella, I won’t leave you!” Jace declares, his voice laced with defiance.

  “I’ve fought family before, I can do it again.” Aemond sneers. “You think you can escape me? You belong to me, by blood and by betrothal. There is no running from destiny.”

  “Let’s see if I’m a good challenge then for such destiny.” I taunt.

Eye glaring at me, Aemond launches his attack, but I’m ready for him. The air crackles with tensions as our swords clash, the sound reverberating through the morn. The first impact is always the worst, and it goes through my right arm with a jolt that clacks my teeth together. Gods he’s strong. With all my strength, I manage to get beneath his thrusts and push him back, our swords sliding across one another with a screech of Valerian steel. Wrong-footing him, I swing my sword down his blind side, managing to slice a bit of his tunic underneath his arms and he spins away from me, sword being held defensively.

He looks at the small cut, eyebrow raising. “Very good. But it’s going to take a little more to best me.” He redoubles his attack, aiming for my head, then my chest, then my legs, forcing me to circle him backwards and to become dizzy.

Fighting off his advances, I swing my blade on his blind side every chance I could get. My mind scrambling to remember all the lessons I learned in Pentos with my trainer. My movements fluid and precise. I have to remember that I’ve trained for this exact moment, honing my abilities, preparing for the day I would face someone like this.

Each strike and parry spoke of my determination, my refusal to bow down to him. One of us will exhaust the other first, and it certainly will not be I who graces the ground.

  “Your ship is leaving, betrothed.” Aemond taunts, trying to make me turn around and strike me down. “Clearly your family doesn’t care about you as much as you thought they did given their willingness to sail away so…quickly.”

I scream at him, slashing my sword, cutting clean through the buckles that are holding his shirt together and slicing a bit of his chest, drawing blood. But Aemond is a formidable opponent, his strength and experience unmatched. He pushed me back, his sword inching closer to my throat. I fight with desperation, my mind and body in perfect synchrony.

My shoulders are burning from the repeated lifting of the sword but I can’t give up. I mean looking at Aemond, he won’t stop until he plunges his sword right through me, to be wedded or not to be. And even more so, he looks like he would greatly enjoy the pleasure of doing so.

Deciding I won’t play fair anymore, because when have the Greens, I duck another swing of his sword and pull my dagger free of my thigh garter, and I slash upwards, the blade following his right eye. I register the fear on his face as he reels away from the sharp blade, not wanting to be completely blind. But what I didn’t know would happen is it slicing through the strap of his leather eyepatch.

It drops to the ground and with a swift maneuver, I disarm him, his sword clattering to the ground. Flinging it with a scream, it soars down into the ocean. I kick him between the legs, causing him to fall to his knees with a gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the ship sailing away and the sails blowing in the wind as I am once again being taken away from my family.

For a moment, victory seems within my grasp, but Aemond is not one to be defeated easily. He lunges forward, his powerful grip closing around my arm. I cry out in pain, my face contorted with anguish.

  “You will pay for your defiance, wife.” He hisses, his grip tightening.

  “Release her, Aemond.” The sound of Queen Alicent’s voice commands, filled with authority. It’s eerily calm as well. Aemond sneers but releases his grip, stepping back as the guards close in around me. I stand, my body trembling, my gaze fixed on the boat now in the distance.

As the guards escort me back to the Red Keep, I steal several glances at my family, how now sail away without me. Tears stream down my face. As the castle doors close behind me, I know that they won’t leave me here forever.

Hopefully.

Chapter Text

I sit on a cushion as a maid braids my hair back from my face. The maid’s fingers are delicate but skilled and I watch her work in the reflection of the mirror. Her brown eyes meet mine.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” she says. Her name is Diana, and she’s a servant in the Red Keep, stuck here until she finds somewhere else to go I guess. She’s cared for me for a few months now. It was Diana who would wash me of spilled blood when I came back from sword practice, who brushed the mud from my shoes and boots, and who somehow got me the most expensive of oils so I could smell amazing. “I’m trying to make you look as good as I can make you look in less of the time.”

I sigh. She’s never had much patience with my peevishness. The maids are overfond of telling me how fortunate I am, a daughter of the once Queen Rhaenyra, married to the Prince Aemond who has never had a scandal unlike his elder brother Aegon.

I know it’s an honor to be wed to the King’s family but I wish it was my own family that was sitting the Throne instead of my drunken uncle. An amazing honor of which I will never be worthy of. And it’s hard to forget that my mother won’t be sitting the throne any time soon with all the reminders I get from all the people I could count on one hand.

Alicent, Aemond, Aegon, even Otto Hightower.

  “Yes I know, Diana. You did great as always.” I smile stiffly but half the time, Diana can’t tell the difference.

  “Perhaps soon you and prince Aemond will bare little Maella’s and Aemonds.”

  “I’d rather throw up.” I tell her.

Diana pauses, hairpin between her fingers, probably considering sticking me with it but she knows better. “Don’t be foolish. It’s a good thing to bear children, especially with a prince. It will keep the Targaryen blood line pure. And besides, the Queen is probably expecting more grandchildren is she not?”

There’s no point in arguing with her because she is right. Alicent keeps asking me if I am with child, calling in every witch she can find to tell if I will be pregnant soon or if I am and just don’t know it. As if waking up to painful cramps in my stomach isn’t proof enough that I am not.

She finishes braiding my hair into an elaborate style that makes me look as though I have the horns of a dragon. She helps me dress into a beautiful red velvet dress with gold embedded into the chest part of it.

  “I put in a couple citrine for elevated beauty.” She says. I sigh as she walks towards the door, getting up from my table to sit down on my fur covered bed. I’ve been getting used to having maids tend to me. None of it seems all that strange really anymore.

Many nights since my family left here, I’ve drifted off to sleep to books of battle strategy and mending a boat. And despite myself, despite what the Greens have done, I came to love some of them. I do love some of them. Those being just Helaena and her kids.

But…it’s just not a comfortable kind of love.

  “Beautiful braids.” Jaehaera says, rushing into my room. She’s dressed in a emerald velvet. Her hair is loose-long silver hair curls that fly behind her, a few strands are braided with gleaming gold thread. She hops onto the bed beside me, disarranging my small pile of books- two romance and sword strategy- all beloved.

  “Well yours are quiet beautiful as well. The strand is a lovely addition. Did your mother do that?”

The now five year old Jaehaera nods. “Will you dance with me tonight?”

  “Dance with you?” I’ve been imagining myself frowning at the crowd from my usual corner and worrying over whether I’d do well enough to go another party without Aegon walking up to me and trying to have his way. Just thinking about it makes me a bit antsy, yet I think about it constantly on these nights. My thumb brushes over my nieces hand. “Yes.” I say, poking her in the sides.

  “Hey!” She says, scooting out of range with a giggle. Jaehaera pushes herself off my bed and holds out her hand, as though she’s my escort for a dance. I allow myself to be guided from the room, my hand automatically to assure myself that I’m protected.

As Jaehaera and I go down the spiral stairs, I spot Aegon hiding in a little balcony, frowning over an empty cup of wine I presume. He always feels no pressure to please anyone at these parties. “Heading somewhere?” he asks softly from the shadows, startling his daughter.

He knows perfectly well where we’re heading.

  “You should come,” I tell him. “Your daughter would like it I’m sure. As well as your other children and your wife.”

Aegon gives me a speculative look and then shakes his head. “I’ve got other plans.” which means he’s probably going to go down to a brothel or a fighting pit. Either way if it annoys Alicent, it pleases Aegon very much so.

Speaking of her, she’s waiting for me in the hall. Her hair is falling down her back as she wears a beautiful Green dress. Her skin a nice palish color and her dress has a nice elaborate gold color that makes her pink mouth and brown eyes stand out.

  “You look…wonderful, Maella. As do you Jaehaera.” She says to me and her grand daughter. Her tone is slightly warm when she talks to me, it’s comforting when she talks to Jaehaera. Her gaze goes to the stairs. “Is your father on the way, Jaehaera?”

Jaehaera shakes her head and disappointment passes over Alicent’s face, but not surprise. As she nods with a smile, a guard takes little Jaehaera from me and I let her go. As I go to pass Alicent, he grabs my arm and speaks lowly into my left ear.

  “Be careful tonight,” She says. “Promise me you will try and make Aemond happy.”

I know exactly what she means by happy and it’s certainly not happening. “I know, your grace.” I remind her, a non answer if there ever was one.

  “You may think it’s funny to stall this long on bearing a child, waiting for your family to sail back here to take you back to where ever they are now, but I will have you know Aemond is very impatient, especially when it comes to lineage.” I look at my feet and say nothing. I’m not forgetful but Alicent often forgets that. It has always been clear that Alicent only puts up with me for Rhaenyra’s sake because if she was to kill me and word was to get out, I don’t think my family would hesitate to say Dracarys and watch it all burn to the ground. “You are under protection here, something I swore with your mother long ago,” she says. “I will not see me or my son made to look foolish because of your mistakes.”

With that little speech concluded, she walks out towards where her grand daughter was just taken. I wait a moment before following after her, plunging into the night where both drinks and fucked up family awaited.

And only the gods know what happens when those two mix.

There are dozen of people here, crowding around the entrance and the room where the the feast is being held. Alicentdoes these every so often to keep loyalty among every patron. And although I hate being here in this castle, I never get tired of this- of the spectacle, of the pageantry. I know why I shouldn’t love it as I do, in captive here from my parents. But I love it all the same.

The room is redolent with burning lavender and crushed herbs for the amount of food that will be served. I grab food off a silver tray- a green apple and a wedge of cheese. I take a bite of each, the apple is cold and crisp in my mouth. Near where I am standing, a little girl with a dagger cuts the strap of someone’s belt. His sword and pouch of money is gone. As she’s losing herself in the crowd, I watch as she looks back at me and winks.

Just a moment after, the person realizes he’s been robbed.

It doesn’t seem like Aegon will be attending at all despite his mothers wishes. But-oh no. I do see him.

My husband.

The crowd parts and hushes, bowing as he passes. Aemond is wearing his usual smirk, accessorized with some of his hair pulled back from his angular face and a circlet of gold in his silver hair. He has on a long black coat like usual and the color is high and jagged. I can see some of the outfit is stitched with a pattern of small dragon wings.

  “Ridiculous.” I say to myself. I cannot deny that Aemond is a handsome Prince. Despite his missing eye, girls all still love him. If only he was betrothed to someone else and not me because if I wasn’t wed to him, I’d probably be as in love with him as everyone else is.

  “Have you ever seen his eye?” Someone whispers. I turn to see my friend Brin.

  “What? No. If I did, it would mean that he actually loved me enough for me to see it.” I tell her, an incredulous smile starting on my face and then fading when I remember that I’m supposed to love him.

  “Maybe it’s red. Have you ever wondered what it looks like?” She giggles, and I can barely understand her next words as she mumbles, “Or if there’s anything there at all? I’ve heard that it looks like a gem.”

Then Aemond is too close for us to safely talk about him. I turn my gaze upon the patrons. I haul myself toward the stairs, toward a corner where I can just watch from afar. Where I can hide.

Chapter Text

As midnight calls upon us, I open the windows to my bedroom and let the cool night air flow in as I strip off my dress. I feel hot all over. My skin feels too tight and my heart hasn’t stopped racing.

Sometimes on nights like these I like to go down to the dock and wait for my parents to come. I stare out at the sea, trying to see the ship my family sailed away on. I want to feel something, something besides the vague queasiness and heartbreak. I want to feel more, but every time I look out where the sea meets the sky, I feel less.

I think about honing my sword skills right now and going down to the armory but I don’t. I stand in front of my window and imagine myself flying away from here on my Dragon that is being kept in the Dragon Pit.

  “I’m so tired,” I say out loud. “So tired.” I sit there for a long time, watching the moon glide the sky, listening to the waves crash as the tide comes in. Suddenly, my door opens and I look to see my maid Diana.

  “Tired of what, if I may ask?” She says, lying some newly washed undergarments on my bed for sleep.

I sigh and answer her honestly for once. “Of being here. Of being powerless.”

She studies my face, then tells me to sit down at my dresser so she can take my braids out.

!!~~~!!

I sleep the night away and wake disoriented, battling my way out of my thousands of blankets. Drool has dried on one of my pillows.

I find bathwater waiting for me, steam rising from the tub. Servants must have come and gone not that long ago. I climb in and splash my face, scrubbing myself clean. When Diana comes in to fix my hair, she finds me already dressing for today. I pull on some gray leather shoes and a dress with nice flowing sleeves.

Downstairs, I find everyone sitting and waiting for the food to come so we can break fast. I used to eat up in my room, not wanting to see anyone. Alicent insisted, out of pure rage I think, started making me sit with everyone else and eat. She also probably understands how much that makes me loathe her.

So to make her happy, I sit down and pile bacon and fried fish, eggs, and meat on my plate. As I finish everything, a servant takes my plate and I stand up, everyone sparing glances my way but I do not look. I snag a plum from the bowl of fruit, wiping it on my clothes before taking a bite and exiting the room. I eat it slowly as I make my way down to the docks.

I use to come here and sit all day, staring at the waves and the people hauling fish in from port. A servant would have to bring me lunch because I refused to walk back up and have it in the Great Hall with the rest of them. I hear someone come up behind me and I swiftly turn around, my dagger in hand and I stand up ready to face whoever has just snuck up on me.

  “Woah, it’s just me.” Brin says, holding her hands up in defense.

  “Sorry. Just…don’t do that.” I sit back down, letting my feet dangle off the edge of the dock and take another bite of my plum.

  “What’s on your mind?” She asks, putting some blackberries in her mouth and I sigh. Brin is taller than me. Her hips wider and breasts heavier.

  “Just…waiting to get out of here that’s all.” I retort.

  “Why can’t you just fly away? You have a dragon don’t you?”

  “You mean the one Alicent had caged up?”

She frowns with an expression just like one I might make if she was being particularly thickheaded. “Well, if I could help in anyway trust me I would.”

I hurl the pit at the water, watching the ripples dissolve the possibility of any stillness. My top lip curls upwards.

  “I thought littering was above a Princess.” she tells me.

  “It would if that title meant anything anymore.” I say. “And I’d rather make Alicent angry at any possible moment I can. Princess or not. Once I get to wherever my family is, I’ll be out of the Green’s reach forever.”

  “Do you think Aemond is going to even allow that?” Brin asks, closing her basket after her fingers are stained red. “Leaving your husband with no heirs.”

  “As if I care about giving Aemond heirs.” I say. Wordlessly, we fall into step together, Brin accompanying me back to the castle. “It would be better if we were actually in love. Maybe then he would get an heir.”

  “And I am sorry that you will never find that with the Prince.”

  “I wish it was a decision to fall in love with someone and it isn’t something that just…happens to a person.”

  “So do I, your grace.”

We head through the town, walking over the cobblestone streets and muddy water that seeps through the cracks. We have to stop to let a kid kick a ball back to his friends and he bows to me. I smile and ask if I can play for a second, kicking the ball and watching him and his friends laugh and go after it.

  “I think you should have a child. If not for Aemond than for yourself. You’re wonderful with children.”

Any women can give the world a child, but I want the child to be loved by both parents. While I won’t falter on my side, I have no idea about Aemond. Not to mention, we sleep in different beds and argue every chance we get. I would hate to bring a child into a life like that. I am glad that Brin’s husband walks up to us right at that moment, giving me an excuse not to answer.

When I get back, I push open the enormous wooden doors with its looping ironwork. I hear someone shouting from the kitchens to ‘cook faster’ prepping for lunch. I ignore it and go to my room, collapsing face-first onto my bed. I determine that I won’t be attending.

!!~~~!!

At dinner we sit at the table, wax pillars of candles burn at the center, beside a beautifully wooden vase filled with wild flowers. The grand dining hall is adorned with opulent tapestries and the flickering candlelight, casting a warm glow over the long table where the family gathered. Servants bring out silver plates of food upon food. We all eat fresh beans, meat with seasonings, grilled fish with butter and lemon, a bowl full of mixed veggies and for after, cakes smothered in apple syrup.

As the sumptuous feast unfolds, conversations flow, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of silverware against fine plates. But beneath the veneer of joviality, there lingers an unspoken tension, a weight that hangs heavy in the air.

Alicent leans forward, her sharp gaze fixed upon me. “My dear, when can we expect the pitter-patter of little feet? It’s been quite some time since your marriage, and surely you and Aemond are eager to bless us with an heir?”

My heart skips a beat at the question, my eyes darting to Aemond before returning to Alicent. I take a deep breath, my voice steady but tinged with apprehension. “I’m afraid there’s no new news to share, Lady Alicent. We have not been blessed with a child yet.” not unlike the other 6 thousand times she’s asked.

Alicent’s lips curl into a smile, but her eyes hold a glint of something else- a hint of impatience and expectation. She turns her gaze towards Aemond, who sits beside me, a brooding presence. “Hopefully soon,” Alicent remarks, her voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of pressure.

Aemond’s eyes met mine and I can’t help but catch the hint of discomfort at the thought of having a child with me. His response, laden with an undeniable grimace, reveals a conflict within him. “Hopefully,” he echoes, the word tinged with a mix of duty and resignation.

My heart sinks at his words, the weight of expectations settling heavily upon my shoulders. I know that the pressure to bear an hair is not just from Aemond’s family but also from the society that surrounds us- a society that measures a woman’s worth by her ability to produce offspring.

I fight back the rising frustration and anger, refusing to be reduced to a mere vessel for the Targaryen bloodline. Deep down, I have always yearned for a family of my own, but on my terms, not dictated by the desires of others.

As the dinner conversations carry on, I struggle to maintain my composure. I know that the battle for control over my own body and destiny has become even more complex. The expectations weigh upon me, threatening to suffocate my spirit.

I think about what Alicent said at dinner through the night and into the dawn, turning it over in my head. Finally, when I can toss and turn no more, I pull on a robe over my nightgown and go outside into the early morning light, bright as gold. It hurts my eyes when I sit down on a patch of clover near the gardens small lake, looking back at the castle.

All of this was my mother’s before it was Alicent’s and then Aegon’s. Mom must have loved it here and it must have been heartbreaking to leave it all so suddenly.

I wonder when she realized she would never come back.

I’ve hear the rumors. It’s no small thing to flee from the Red Keep in the early morn, nearly escaping death from your half-brother. I’ve heard that Rhaenyra had a child which died. Another girl it was. She left behind the remnants of her first one. No one can say she didn’t prove her toughness. If she’d just been a little luckier, she would’ve never been usurped in the first place.

She had a lot to loose.

I’ve got a lot to loose.

Chapter Text

My head is pounding when Diana shakes me away before opening the curtains. I press a pillow over my face and curl up on my side, trying to ignore her and go back to dreamless slumber.

  “Get up, my lady.” She says, pulling back my blankets. “Breakfast awaits.”

I make a strangled noise and wave her away.

  “Up.” she commands, shaking me again.

  “No.” I moan, burrowing deep in what’s left of the blankets. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll bring you moon tea when you get down there.” Diana is relentless, mostly because she doesn’t want to get into trouble with Alicent. If I don’t show up, Alicent will deem it my fault and Diana’s.

I half-stumble out of bed. Standing, I scratch my hip and glare. She gives me her most charming smile, and I find my annoyance with her fading, despite myself. She helps me dress quickly, I let my hair stay down instead of telling Diana to do the braids I usually want her to do, and catch a glimpse in my full-length mirror before sulking all the way down to the dining hall. Once I sit, a servant is immediately bringing me a cup of tea that no one notices is moon tea, thank god. Because I know if Alicent saw, she’d have my head for it. Aemond I really think could care less.

Besides the tea, the only other thing I have for breakfast is bacon and as soon as I’m done I’m going back upstairs. I’m sure Alicent is rolling her eyes but she’s the one who demands me down here. In my room, I find my practice outfit spread out on my bed, scented with verbena and lavender. It’s a slightly padded tunic stitched with metallic thread. I knock the tunic to the floor and climb under the covers, pulling them up over my head so that I am slightly smothering myself. I fall asleep like that.

In the late afternoon, when I awake again, the garment is wrinkled, and I have no one to blame but myself. On my way to the kitchens after Diana has put my hair in warrior braids, I pass Aemond in the hall. He is dressed all in black, his mouth pulled into a grim line.

  “Hold on a moment.” he says.

I do.

He frowns. “I wish you would not dirty yourself. After all, princesses aren’t meant for swordplay.”

I bite my lip, saying nothing. After all, he didn’t ask me a question. We stand there, watching each other. His eyes narrow. There are so many unsaid things between us- so many reasons we can only be something like husband and wife, but never fully embody our roles. “You will come to understand that moon tea will not always be your saving grace,” he says finally. “And you will have to understand that we will need to produce heirs at some point. Enjoy your practice.”

I make a deep bow and head for the door, my trip to the kitchens abandoned. All I want to do is get away from inside this cell, from the reminder that there is no place for me at the Red Keep, no place for me in Westeros.

You will come to understand that moon tea will not always be your saving grace

!!!~~~~!!!

The rest of the days go by in a blur. I go toe-to-toe with Ser Criston Cole, fighting for the honor of impressing myself. After a few rounds, Ser Criston Cole calls it game. I keep trying to catch Aemond’s eye, but he won’t allow it. I want to know if he’s angry with me at keeping up with the sword fighting. A habit that has once been learned can not be so easily broken.

In the kitchens of the Red Keep, I toast cheese over one of the fires and spread id on bread. Sitting on the stoop with that and a mug of water, I watch the sun go down as I eat my late night snack.

One of the cooks pays me no mind and continues to chop parsnips. When I’m done, I brush crumbs from my cheeks and head for my room. One of the servants stops in the hall when she seems me. She’s carrying an armful of empty goblets, most likely from Aegon’s room. “Oh, you are up.” She says.

I nod.

  “The prince is asking for you.”

Aemond? My heartbeat speeds. I can’t think. “Where?”

The servant looks surprised by my reaction. “In his fathers old study. I was just bringing him-”

I grab the bottle of wine from her other hand and head down to the office, intent on getting rid of him as quickly as I can, any way I can. The last thing I need is for Alicent to overhear me being disrespectful to her son with one eye and decide I’ll be able to speak again. She would not like me being at odds with my husband.

I fly down the stairs and kick open the door to my grandsire’s study. The knob creaks and the door swings open, crashing against a bookshelf as I stride into the room, plunking down the tray with enough force to make the bottle feel like it will shatter.

Prince Aemond has several books lying open on the library table in front of him. Silver strands falling over his eyes, and the collar of his night shift is open, showing a beautiful necklace dangling from his neck that I’ve never noticed before. I halt, looking at him.

He raises both eyebrows. “Maella. I didn’t expect you to be in such a rush. Thought you would’ve taken a snails pace.”

I give him a look. I turn around, grabbing the bottle before saying, “Didn’t think you drank.”

He picks up two cups and moves over to me, setting them down before taking the bottle gently out of my hand. “Will you drink with me?”

I shake my head, feeling weird. “It’ll go straight to my head. I’m certain you wouldn’t want to carry your wife up to her chambers, guessing as though you wouldn’t want to touch me.”

  “Then keep me company.”

  “Why?” But I take a seat any way. I feel my heart thud dully.

  “What I require is conversation. Perhaps you can tell me what made you storm in here. Who did you think I was?”

  “No one.” I say quickly. My middle finger and thumb pinch the skin on my wrist.

He sits up straighter, as though I am suddenly more interesting. “I bet you wish it was someone else, don’t you?”

I look at him, hiding my smile. “Absolutely.”

  “Surprising,” he says, as though he’s giving me some great compliment.

I draw myself up and look into the blue of his eyes, shrugging. I take a deep breath. “Why did you call me here?”

  “Although we are husband and wife with all the vows we took and whatnot, we are very distant from each other. I want to offer you something. My mother is being herself, asking us constantly as you know to give her grandchildren. And I most certainly don’t want to produce heirs with you. But what I want for you- for us, it to at least act like we love each other when we’re around her and or public.”

  “I don’t think I want to be involved with you in any way at all. I don’t want to be controlled.”

He takes a sip of his wine. I go very still. His smile widens and after a moment, I know why. I’m already controlled so what’s any more? I sigh.

He nods once. “So you accept?”

It’s frightening to not really have a choice. He knows that Alicent is annoying me just as much, asking us at every dinner if I’ve conceived yet. And I want to make it hell for Aemond so badly. And this is an opportunity for it, a terrifying and slightly insulting opportunity. But also an intriguing one.

I nod.

!!!~~~!!!

All night, as I sit through dinner, I am conscious of the secret we hold. It makes me feel, for the first time, as though I have a power of my own. Even thinking of it for too long gives me a thrill that now I can torture Aemond even more frequently.

We all eat small birds stuffed with mushrooms and barley, the skin crackling as knives cut through it. Alicent delicately picks hers apart. Helaena’s twins chew on the skin. I don’t bother to separate off the flesh, just taking the bones out of my mouth when I feel one. I watch Aegon pick at the stewed veggies as though he’s 7 and not 20.

I go to sleep early, and when I wake, the sun has not risen yet. My head hurts-probably from sleeping too long-and my body aches. I must have slept with all my muscles tensed. I get myself washed and dressed and go down to the kitchens where Diana is. She is surprised to see me up this early but gives me a tray with a cup of coffee on it. She makes me some toast too with jam.

As I eat, she brushes through my hair and pulls it into a braid. Before the rest of the castle wakes up and I’m forced to eat breakfast with them, I decide to go out for a small walk. The branches of the weirwood trees whisper cryptic secrets to me as I walk alone in the wolfswood. As I walk, a flash of white ahead catches my eye. Peering through the rustling foliage, I spot an ethereal creature drinking from a small stream- a magnificent white stag.

I freeze, hardly daring to breathe. Stories of the stags of the old gods were told throughout the Seven Kingdoms. To see one was said to be quite the omen. I know my own mother had seen one when she had been young as well. Slowly, hesitantly, I reach out my hand. The stag lifts its noble head, regarding me with liquid brown eyes. It did not flee as I brushed my fingers against its soft flank. A shiver passed through me.

Then, almost as suddenly as it had appeared, the stag turns and bounds off into the trees. I watch its pale form disappear amid the greenery, feelings changed somehow. As the sun rises and I make my way back to the castle, I tell Diana I want my breakfast in my room and as I sit in my chambers, mulling over the encounter, I pick at my food as morning comes to life outside my window.

Chapter Text

I change into a blue shift despite being so tired my bones hurt. I’ve come to eat my food in my chambers, the one thing I’m allowed. The castle is completely bathed in sun when I walk down the stairs. Breakfast must have just ended as I see Jaehaerys racing through the halls, pursued by his new nanny.

With a shriek, Jaehaerys dashes over, trying to clamor up into my arms. “Chase me!” he yells, out of breath, full of the wriggling ecstasy of childhood. Even Targaryen men are young once.

Impulsively, I hug him to my chest. He’s warm and smells of new leather and a bath he’s recently taken apparently. He lets me do it for a moment, small arms twining around my neck, small head butting against my chin. Then, laughing, he slides down and away, throwing a glance back to see if I’ll follow him.

Growing up here, in King’s Landing, will he scorn his other family? Will he scorn me? Will he too become cruel like his brother Aegon or Aemond? Or will he become brutal like the men before him?

As I watch his nanny run past, I turn face to face with Aemond who is looking at me with a smirk. “I see my mother has granted you a bit more freedom from having to see me.” he says.

  “That’s none of your business.” I tell him.

  “While I do like a lady of mystery, I do think it is my business seeing as though you’re my wife.”

Jaehaerys’s nanny continues to chance him.

  “I would just like a little peace and quiet, that’s all.”

  “You haven’t had enough of it, yet?”

  “Obviously not.” I say, hearing Jaehaerys’ little feet behind me. I pick him up and spin him around, making him giggle before setting him down so he can keep avoiding his nanny. I don’t see his twin sister anywhere so she must be still at breakfast or another nanny is handling her away from her raucous brother.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, wife.”

I’m not sure how to interpret his words. I didn’t think I was playing a game at all. I thought I was just pissing off people who hated me already and eating the consequences. I turn my head, looking for my nephew but he is no longer in the halls.

~~~~~

I’ve often wondered if there was anything about the Red Keep that never felt cold, dead, or sterile. I mean, as I walk the gravel paths for the thousandth time, I see not one pebble out of place. The bushes of flowers have been clipped for spring, the hedges for the garden are cut into the sky in high, precise neat walls.

After walking along the paths for an hour or so, trying to stay as far away as possible from inside the castle, I led myself back into the Red Keep.

I feel like taking a long, long nap so as the Queen, it’s exactly what I do. I trudge up to my chambers, not bothering to slip anything off, also not feeling motivated enough to pull back the covers, and flop down face first and wait for sleep to greet me.

Images swirl through my mind as I sleep. Slowly the scenes coalesced into a vivid dreams cape of memories long past.

I find myself back in the Red Keep, running barefoot through familiar corridors. Laughter echoes ahead and I follow the joyous sound, heart swelling with longing. Bursting into the gardens, I spot them.

Jace and Luke splash in the fountain, soaking to the bone but with smiles lighting their faces. Catching sight of me, they whoop and drag me into the spray. I giggle uncontrollably as they drive on me, attacking with cupped hands full of water.

  “Please, stop!” I gasp between bouts of laughter. They finally relent, clutching their sides with mirth as I squeeze water from my hair. Oh, how I miss this- carefree days with the brothers who used to try and protect me from all harm.

  “Come on, let’s go explore the godswood!” Luke shouts excitedly, taking my hand. Jace grabs the other and they race as one into the forest’s emerald embrace. Wandering endless trails I feel whole, complete with my family by my side.

All too soon, dark storm clouds roll in and parted them. “Maella! Where are you?’ Jace calls through the downpour. I search frantically, splashing through puddles. A flash lights the sky, revealing two small bodies floating lifelessly among the red leaves.

  “No!” I scream, lurching upright with a gasp, hot tears spilling over. Just a dream, but one that ripped open freshly healed wounds all the same. Clutching my middle as sobs wrack my frame, I ache for the family so cruelly stolen away.

Having a new memory of my brothers, even one that turned sour, feels like an unexpected gift. I miss them both so bitterly it’s hard to breathe sometimes.

I lay in bed, turning it over in my mind. Taking note of every detail. The light in their eyes, and then the fear. The nervous, intense way Jace called my name. I wished I had hugged them. Or taken Jace’s hand. Or met Jace’s eyes as he hung over the side of the boat, probably reaching for me.

Oh gods…

Had I told them both that day that I loved them? Had I even spoken to Luke or Joffrey?

I can’t remember.

I curl up in my bed and wrap my arms around myself in a mimicry of a hug. I feel as though my heart had broken. I still feel like it.

After a few minutes, I force myself to get up. Lying in bed moping wasn’t going to accomplish anything. I pause at the window. It’s raining.

Along with my breakfast that morning, there arrived my tea. I stare at it…and set it aside. I don’t feel like taking it today. I make my way to the stairs and stand, staring down at them. I’m going to escape, I tell myself. Before I get pregnant I’m going to escape the Red Keep. Someday I’m going to come back and murder Aemond.

I’m going to be free. Free. Somewhere with enough sky that I can ride my dragon around the castle and people who wouldn’t try to hurt me. I want to break something. I want to grab something and make it explode. I want to do something that would hurt.

I want to punch a mirror. I want to see the glass shatter and fracture until it looked the way I felt right now. I want my knuckles to split and bleed and feel the pain in my bones, through my palms. I’m desperate to feel something other than the misery I feel, that I’m drowning in.

But I can’t so I head to my room to change for dinner.

Chapter Text

The family gathers that evening for our nightly meal within the dining hall. Soft lamplight bathed the private dining chamber as servers laid out steaming platters of foods across the long table.

I sit near the head beside Aemond, enjoying the subtle glances we shared when none were watching. To outward eyes, we maintained our formal estrangement as was expected. Alicent entered then, resplendent in green samite and Myrish lace. She smiled warmly upon her children and gooddaughters, taking her place at the center of the high table.

Polite conversation flowed as the royal company partook of crispy goose, fragrant stews, and fruits glistening with honeyed glaze. But soon Alicent’s curiosity turned to more personal matters as always.

  “Maella, dearest, how do you find your duties as of late? I pray married life has not become too taxing.” Her keen eyes searched my features.

I take a careful sip of chilled wine before replaying easily. “I should be with child soon, your grace.”

A smile slowly lit Alicent’s face, catching my words. “You give me joy to hear it. May the gods favor your efforts with a blessed fruit soon.”

Around us, other conversations drifted away as the table leaned in with bated breath.

  “There is no growth from what I’ve seen yet. But I remain optimistic.” I assured gently, laying a hand over my still-flat belly. In truth the possibility has never crossed my mind. The only thing that has is when it would be best to strike and leave with Lyrax to Dragonstone where my family is waiting.

Alicent beamed, grasping my other hand eagerly in hers. “Have no doubt, you shall make a visionary mother. Just think, another babe for our house-how the realm will rejoice at the glad tidings!”

Her excitement was clearly infectious because soon the hall rang with well-wishes and toasts to me and Aemond’s hoped-for child. I accept their cheer with grace, pleased to delight Alicent finally though concealing my true wishes.

Aegon grunts and with a grin, he reaches down to me and hauls me to my feet, my chair clattering to the ground behind me. “Shall we hear them in action, then?” He said, like he was asking me to take tea with him.

Before I can push myself away, Aegon loops his arms around me and grasps the laces of my new dress. In one fluid motion, Aegon tears my dress down the back, having it make an awful ripping sound as the seams tear apart, leaving me standing before my husband, my nieces, my mother-in-law, and many more House of Green members in nothing but my corset and shift.

I try to sit down again, or hunch myself over to get away from the eyes who are bearing into me but Aegon holds onto me with a fierce grip. I heard Aemond’s chair scrape against the stone floor.

I watch as Aegon throws my mother’s dress, the last thing I have of her, to the crowd and I just stand there in a painful hold as they fight over the scraps of what once were a beautiful dress like rabid starving dogs.

Aegon drags me from the table, my arm clutched so tightly in his grasp that I know I will have bruises already. I have no idea where my husband is. Has he fled? Left me here with his drunken brother?

With only my thin night-shift to cover the entirety of my body, I feel horrifically exposed and no one is doing anything about Aegon to stop it. Not even his own mother who I had just spoken to moments ago and I try to walk faster, hoping that I will find some sanctuary in the quieter corridors. But some of the crowd followed us.

As Aegon led me through the halls and I see Aemond following behind the Lords that follow me, his face turns to me and I try to reach out for him.

  “Don’t worry, my brother knows his duties.” Aegon just laughs, noticing who I’m looking at. We arrive at Aemond’schambers, Aegon swinging the large doors open and giving me a smile. Releasing my arm, I feel the nerves tingle as blood rushes back into them and before I can dart away, Aegon is ripping the corset and night-shift from my body, leaving me completely naked which is when Aemond is grabbing me by my shoulders and quickly walking me backwards into his room, so none of the men can get a good look at me.

The doors shut with a big bang due to Aemond kicking them closed, not wanting to turn away from me. I silently thank him in my head. I’m shivering cold and I eye his room for something to cover myself up with. I look at the big bed in the middle of the room but I don’t go near it.

Aemond clears his throat, his eyes downcasted as he makes his way quickly to the bed, shucking off one of the furs from the covers and handing it out to me, still looking to the floor. I take it from him, wrapping it around myself. I feel a little more comfortable as my body is swallowed up by the blanket.

Aemond sat down on the edge of his bed, beginning to remove his leather boots. Taking a deep breath, I settle myself on his carpet, rolling into myself.

  “I am not going to touch you.” Aemond says, quietly.

  “Hmm?” I hum, to nervous to even speak.

He looks at me, his eyes sincere as he says, “You don’t need to be afraid of me. Unlike my brother, I take no pleasure into forcing a woman, especially which of one is my wife, into bed.”

I sit up, looking at him as I say, “I don’t want to bed you either, you know that but Aegon and a couple handful of Lords are out there, waiting for proof that you’ve bedded me so…what other choice do we have?”

Aemond seemed to consider this and suddenly stood up on the bed after taking everything but his long night-shift off. He began jumping, the beds wooden frame creaking underneath the bounces and I can hear the jeers from the other side of the door.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper so they won’t hear me.

  “Making them think I’m fucking you, obviously. Come.” He said, stopping the jumps and holding his hand out to me. I kept the fur wrapped around me as I joined him up on the bed. We both gently bounced up and down, creating a rhythmic groan of the wood. I did everything I could to keep my smile from being noticeable from Aemond but eventually it broke through and he was smiling as well.

After about ten minutes or so, he gave a loud, theatrical groan and collapsed onto the bed with a twang of protesting wood beams. I laughed into one of his pillows, so as not to disturb the breathless silence outside.

Then I felt Aemond get off the bed and I watched as he riffled through his boots for a dagger. My heart started to beat and my eyes went wide and when Aemond saw me he raised a hand.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” He said as though it was obvious. He moved the covers down the bed and held his arm over the white sheets. Before he could slice his skin, I stop him, looking at him.

  “What are you doing now?” I realize I’ve never touched him until this moment. His skin is cool and it stirred more warmth than I expected however, as soon as I came to my senses and saw what I was doing, I snatch my hand back.

Aemond swallows before saying, “They’ll want proof of blood. At least, my brother will. I’m giving them blood.” I watch as he cuts himself with his dagger and the crimson liquid that flows from his arm drops onto the white as snow sheets. I hop off the bed and grab my night-shift, tearing it to even more pieces as I plan to clean him up.

Aemond takes the now dirtied sheet off the bed and strolls to the door, opening it as I hop into bed and cover myself with the remaining blankets as Aemond shows off the ruined sheets to his brother and the lords waiting for proof. As soon as they deem it viable enough, Aemond is shutting the doors in their faces.

  “I need to help you clean up. That cut will get infected if not treated.” I say, looking at him. He throws something at me after rummaging through one of his drawers and I open it up, seeing it’s a night-shift of his own belonging.

He turns away and I take it as a sign to get dressed so I do quickly and clear my throat for him to turn back around. Aemond allows me to inspect the wound, wary as a cornered beast.

His skin sent unwanted shivers through me, reminding me how easily this dragon could inflict deeper pains given chance. I work swiftly and silently, treating the cut with practiced maneuvers that hinted at lingering healing knowledge from my time in Vaith.

When at last I stepped back, Aemond stood un-moving, looking down at the now-bandaged arm. “I’ll call for the servants to bring fresh linens and herbs tomorrow but this will have to suit for now.” I tell him, also looking at the make-shift bandage from my undergarments.

Aemond walked away silently and picked up the fur blanket that now lay in a heap on his floor. After draping it around his own shoulders, he makes himself comfortable on the floor next to the bed. The fire in the hearth burns low and room grows dark, I hear his soft breathing from across the room as if he was simply lying beside me.

Chapter Text

I wake in the early morning, alone, needing to pee. I pad into the bath area, lift my skirts, and do my business in the copper basin left there for the purpose, shame heating my face even though I am alone. It is one of the most humbling aspects of being human and a Queen. I know we’re not Gods, but it would be nice to not have to go to the bathroom in a copper pot that the servants pour out the windows.

As I make my way back to the bedroom area, I see Aemond rousing from his sleep, wincing. I watch as he makes his way onto the bed, tucking one arm behind him, looking the picture of ease itself. He closes his eye again, saying, “If the servants see us sleeping apart, they will take the news to Aegon and my mother.”

  “I am not afraid of your every movement, you know? You don’t have to explain every inkling to me, I assure you.” I say as I join him, plumping up one of the pillows that lie between us. I’m watching Aemond reaching over his head and pulling off his night-shift, throwing it to the floor in a heap and I roll my eyes. “You are very committed to making this as realistic and unbearable as possible.”

  “Purely self-saving, I assure you.” Aemond replied, tucking his arm behind his head again.

I allow myself to glance at his now bear torso, being just as lean and muscular as his legs. I shuffle down the bed, wanting to get comfortable myself and Aemond steals a glance as well and I catch him staring at the silver scar running from behind my back to the front of my ribs.

Inclining his head, he asks, “Your dragon?”

Looking surprised he has even asked, I follow his gaze. “No, uh, a boy from where I grew up. I guess he wanted to show me a lesson being a bastard Targaryen. I’ve often wished it was my dragon, believe me. If it had been, probably wouldn’t be lying beside you and putting you in this situation in the first place.”

  “Pity.” Aemond said.

I narrow my eyes but tilt my head towards him. His good eye is on the side closest to me so he doesn’t have to move much to see me. I wanted to say something back but just at that moment, the doors opened and the first of the servants hurried in, all of their eyes downcasted.

Clearing his throat, Aemond ripped the blankets off of himself and I semi averted my gaze as he strode purposefully out of the bedroom and into the bathroom area. His act now completed, he seemed eager to put as much distance between us as before and I couldn’t be more grateful.

I throw the blankets from my own body as more servants enter the room. My maid, Diana is waiting with a blank expression on her face and I simply nod as she follows me into the bathroom just as Aemond walks out. We both avert our gazes as we pass each other but I turn for a slim second, just to make sure Diana is behind me when I see silver lines of raised healed skin littered all over his back.

Diana doesn’t see it though as she urges me forward into a bath that she promises will soothe my probably aching and sore body. Sighing, I rest my head on the back of the tub, feeling already exhausted from the day.

  “I know it must be painful, my Queen. The salts and herbs will help.” Diana mutters as Aemond strolls back in, now fully dressed.

  “I shall break my fast in my mother’s chambers. I’d like to take you for a walk this afternoon if it pleases you.”

I beckon him forward, whispering in his ear so Diana can’t hear us. “I’d rather you feed me to Vhagar.”

Aemond’s eyes glinted as he pulled back to kiss me on the forehead, whispering back “Don’t give me any good ideas.” he leaves me with those departing words as his boots thunder heavily on the floorboards as he strode from the room, dressed in his usual black attire, his hair unbound and shining down his back.

An hour or so later, I rise from my bath and Diana is pulling a robe onto me before anyone can see me naked. I quickly dress with Diana and a few of the other maids help. I take a few more minutes just walking around the chambers that will now be mine shared and I freeze at what lay upon Aemond’s writing desk against the far wall. A single folded parchment sat plainly among loose scrolls and leather-bound books, folded as if concealing precious secrets within. Curiosity overcomes discretion. I dart lightly over and snatch up the missive.

Smoothing it out, I see Aemond’s furious but elegant handwriting scrawled over the page, taking up all the available space. In some places he pressed the feathers tip so angrily that the paper tore. Maella, it reads, each hateful rendering of my name like a punch to the gut.

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I tuck it into my pocket before any of the servants can see and I leave the room, awaiting Aemond to fetch me.

Chapter Text

The dressmaker comes early the next afternoon, a long-fingered woman called Estrella. Her eyes are like those of chocolate. She is wearing an example of her work, a woven dress with embroidered lines of flower petals making a stripped pattern down the entire length of it.

She’s brought with her bolts of fabric, some of it stiff gold, one that changes like iridescent beetle wings that Helaena had showed me once from her collection I believe she still has to this day.

Beside that, she tells us, is a fine silk that is as soft as spider web so fine that it can easily fir through the eyes of a needle two times over and yet strong enough to have to be cut with Valeryion steel.

All the fabrics are draped onto Aemond’s bed for me to inspect. I’m drawn to run my fingers over the cloth, an absent smirk on my face. One of my new maids brings tea and cakes, meat and jam, all piled on a massive silver tray. I pour myself some tea and drink it without anything else, hoping it will settle my stomach.

The terror of the last day or so is at me heels, making me shudder with-out warning. The memory of Aegon’s hands over my body and the laughing Lords keeps rising unbidden to my tongue.

And my own name, written over and over and over. I thought I know how much Aemond hated me, but looking at that parchment, I realized I had no idea. And he’s hate me even more still if he knew I found it.

  “My Queen?” Diana says, and I realize that I’ve been staring off toward the window and the fading light.

  “Yes?”

  “And just how are you thinking about with a dreamy expression like that on your face?” Diana asks, quirking a brow.

I shake my head, hoping I have not gone red-faced. “No, it wasn’t anything like that. I was just…you know what, it doesn’t matter. What were we talking about?”

  “The seamstress wishes to measure you.” Diana says.

I look over at Estrella, who holds a string between her hands. I hop up on the platform she has set before her, holding out my arms. I am a good queen today. I am going to get a beautiful gown and I will dance at Jaehaerys and Jaehera’sbirthday celebration.

  “Don’t make a face,” the seamstress says. Before I can stammer apologies or tell her she’s speaking to a Queen, she continues, voice pitched very low I can barely hear what she’s saying. “I was told to sew this dress with pockets that can conceal anything from weapons to poisons. We’ll make sure that’s done while still showing you to great advantage.”

I almost stumble off the platform I’m so happy. I’ve barely had anything in the past year that pertained to my wants. She smiles, pins in her mouth, and I grin back at her. I will repay her and whoever told her to make sure pockets were involved in the making of the dress.

When I look up, Diana is giving me a strange look. After Estrella has measured me, I go and drink more tea. Then I eat three sugary cakes and a strip of grapes.

  “How did it go last night?” Diana is asking me as I gulp down the meat like some kind of vulture. I have woken ravenous.

I think of how I was stripped down to nothing in front of husbands brother and lords of the kingdom. I shrug, one-shouldered.

  “Good?”

  “Sure.” I say, popping a grape into my mouth with a smile.

!!~~~~!!

I walk briskly through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, my cloak billowing behind me. I turn down a lesser used hall and stop in front of a heavy wooden door. Grasping the iron handle, I pull it open with a creak.

Duty shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with jars and bottles containing curios from across the known world. I traverse the rows, running my fingers along the labels as I read. Some hold precious substances like dragon scales and big ones held Valyrian steel, others contained more mundane items.

My eye catches on a glass bottle filled with a viscous pale liquid. “Wolfsbane,” I murmur, taking it from the shelf and tucking it into a leather satchel at my side. Deeper into the cluttered room I go, now scanning with purpose. There, a drawer of dried powders and leaves. I select handfuls of nightshade berries, The Strangler, greycap, and toadstool, dropping them into the bag. Next to the heavy tomes and scrolls is a table covered in clay pots. I lift the lids one by one, sniffing the contents.

When I uncover one emitting a sour smell, I grin. “Beautiful.” the bot fly larvae goes into my satchel. With my collection complete, I exit the measter’s chambers, winding my way back to my room. I pass Jaehaerys who is running somewhere, dragging one of his stuffed animals one a rope. He’s clearly giving his maids a run for their wits as Jaehaera follows close behind him.

  “Jaehaerys, Jaehaera!” I call after them, but they’re both up the stairs and away.

I wash off in my bath and then, alone in Aemond’s room, I I bolt the door behind me and empty my satchel’s contents onto his desk. Carefully measuring and grinding the ingredients exactly as the books tell me to, which I stole this morning during breakfast from the grand library, I combine them in a stone mortar until a thick brown paste remains. Scooping a bit onto my finger, I bring it to my lips, my hands shaking. “For the good for the realm,” I say, and swallowing the poison.

The rush of it hits my hard, and I grit my teeth against it. Then, while I am feeling stupid enough, I begin to make the others. From each, I cut away a tinier portion and swallow. I make sure everything is put away so Aemond or our maids won’t find them. Mithridatism, it’s called. The processes of eating poison to build up immunity. So long as I don’t die from it, I’ll be harder to kill and hopefully overall be feared.

I don’t make it downstairs for dinner. Diana finds me in our bathroom too busy retching, too busy shivering and sweating.

Chapter Text

I fall asleep in the bath area of Aemond's and now my room, spread out on the floor. That’s where Aemond finds me. I wake to him picking me up off the floor. It’s only grogginess that keeps me from crying out.

He sets me gently on the four poster bed and makes no effort to undress me, just put the covers over me. He silently gets in beside me and then I get up the next day and do everything all over again.

Attending meetings of the High Council is harder than ever. For one thing, I am sick, my body fighting the effects of the poisons I am forcing down. For another, I am exhausted keeping up appearances with Aemond.

The Red Keep’s small council chamber, though usually bustling with lords and advisors, was nearly empty when I walked in one afternoon. Only Aemond remained seated at the large oaken table, poring over maps and letters.

  “Still working, I see,” I say as I enter. Aemond looks up from his papers, surprised.

  “My lady. I did not expect to see you here,” he replied politely which surprised me.

I take my seat at the head of the table, closest to the throne room beyond. “The Queen’s business does not rest, husband, even when she must attend to other matters. What news do you have for me today?”

Aemond gathered the papers on the table into a neat stack. “Disturbing reports from the Riverlands, I’m afraid. The rogue lord Bracken has assembled another warband, and the small folk live in fear of his raiders.”

I arch a delicate eyebrow. “And what does the fool intend this time? More villages burned? Honorless attacks on the Tullystrongholds? This lawlessness cannot be allowed to continue.”

After nodding in agreement, Aemond continues, “Our allies in the Vale also send word. Jonos Arryn has mobilized more troops, but the clansmen grow bolder in the mountains with each passing season. If we do not bring them to heel soon…” He leaves the grim thought unfinished. I tap a perfectly manicured nail on the polished wood, pondering the options. As Hand to the Queen and de facto leader of the Green Council, protecting the realm from chaos and conflict fell under my domain.

  “Summon Lords Mooton and Darry to the city,” I commanded at last. “Their levies, along with what men we can spare from the city, should be enough to deal with Bracken’s rabble once and for all. As for the Vale clans, offer Arryn our dragon rider's fire should he require aid in his campaigns.”

Aemond nods, making notes. “It shall be done, my lady. Is there anything else?”

!!~~~!!

Aemond and I continue our plan to look like loving husband and wife, occasional he walks me to our chambers through the halls before he goes off to his study, stopping to kiss me near the door when we know servants and others are looking. I only hope he doesn’t taste the bitterness of poison on my lips.

Alicent will ask me how everything is going and Aemond and I will talk to her with smiles on our faces, both of us just happy she’s stopped bothering us about progeny. On days like those, I bite my tongue so hard that I don’t say anything at all. I just try to find wherever Brinnis, a small, satisfied smile on my face.

More weeks pass, I wake up with my monthly tidings on the sheets and I’m glad Aemond is already awake and out of the room as I call Diana in to help me change them. I bring the unfortunate news to Alicent before I’m off appearing before another Council meeting. I am so tired that I fall asleep whenever I put my head down.

I even fall asleep in the training yard. The clanking of swords against one another lulls me, I guess. It doesn’t take much. I wake on the stone floor of Aemond's study. My head is ringing, and I am scrambling for my knife underneath my dress. But my dagger is gone from its hidden sheath. When I can’t find it, I hear Aemond's chuckling from the other side of the room and I snap my head up.

  “Looking for this?” came his voice.

I see him leaning against the closed door, my blade twirling dexterously between his fingers. I’m sighing in exasperation, crossing my arms over my chest before raising an eyebrow and saying, “Return it, if you please.”

He’s chuckling again, sauntering forward to place the dagger hilt-first in my outstretched hand. I am not sure how long I was sleeping. I brush off my dress and look at him, sheathing my knife once more. But as soon as it’s in it’s correct place again, I’m freezing, turning to him and asking “Did you-”

But before I can go on, he shakes his head. “No. I could feel it as I carried you here. Thought I’d give you a nice…present when you woke. Apologies for the disturbance. You seemed asleep quite comfortably in the yard, I thought it better you rest here.”

I eye him warily. “And why is that, pray tell?”

Aemond smiles mysteriously. “I wouldn’t think that a training yard is the most comfortable places as you rest from your…well monthly troubles. That and well, I think it would look quite good if I carried my sleeping wife to my study to watch over her.”

  “Ah, yes. Keeping up appearances instead of actually caring for the well-being of your wife.” I say, grumbling and making sure I have everything. I’m still tired, but I’d rather go collapse onto our bed than his couch where I don’t know what he’s been doing on it. Granted, I don’t know what he’s done on that bed either but at least sheets can be changed and washed…

  “Yes.” He answers simply, sitting down at his large wooden desk. He dabs a pen in an ink cartridge and looks up at me, “Pray tell, what did my mother say when you told her the news that the child will not be?”

  “Disappointed, to say the least.”

  “Wonderful.” He sounds as though it was absentmindedly as he goes to writing something down. I watch as his fingers get covered in some of the ink that he taps off on the ink cartridge. He gazes up at me with his eye, frowning before saying, “You can leave.”

I just nod, exiting his study.

Chapter Text

I descend the the staircase leading from Aemond and I’s chambers to the royal dining hall. My stomach churns uneasily as always these days, from both anxiety and the poisons.

Alicent offers me a sad but polite smile as I take my seat. “I hope you are recovering well after your loss. These things can be so difficult.”

I know that’s not what she wanted to say at all but I take it anyway. Keeping my expression carefully neutral, I reply, “You are too kind, Your Grace. Time heals all wounds.” I take Aemond’s hand in mine and look at him. I go to steer the subject elsewhere but unfortunately, Alicent presses on.

  “We must hope that it happens soon, though.”

Inside I seethed. Had word of the false babe’s death not reached her ear’s enough? No matter, the deception had served its purpose in the short term. “I am content for now with my duties, though your concern is appreciated.” I select a bread roll, tearing off small bites to stall further conversation. Beside me at the table, Aemond catches my eyes, smirking knowingly behind his wine cup.

The arrival of supper gave my chance to recede into myself, not having to converse with Alicent any further as she’s too busy making sure that Helaena is doing alright and eating and what not as Maegor was just born. Cute babe, I must say. Hopefully it will keep Alicent a little bit more preoccupied.

As soon as dinner is done, I’m excusing myself before desert can come. “Please, forgive me- it seems my lingering upset has stolen my appetite. I think some air would do me good.”

Alicent nods understandingly. “Of course, take all the time you need.”

Before I depart, I squeeze Helaena’s shoulders, kissing her on the top of her head. As I make my way to the bed chamber, a drunkard stumbles into me. I excuse myself, but he grabs my arms to steady himself. I turn my head away from his sour breath.

  “Queen Maella. W-what a pl…pleasure.” He slurs his words and I’m smiling kindly. “Heard your babe died, such a shame.”

My expression turns sad as I gently push him off of me. “Thank you, sir-”

  “How would Alicent Hightower like to know that it is…a farse.”

My face goes white and I’m looking at him, eyebrow arched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.” I go to move past him but he’s clutching my arm, hard. My free hand slides automatically to the hilt of my knife.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” He says it as though he’s disgusted with me. The violence of it, the awful disdain in his voice.

  “It’s Queen or your grace, to you.” I tell him, hoping I don’t seem half as shaken as I am. Then, acting as though everything is normal, I go to move past him again. For a moment, he looks confused, but his confusion quickly morphs into rage.

He sluggishly blocks my escape, moving in front of me. “I am older than you, don’t think you deserve my respect.”

Looking him dead in the eyes, I force myself to smile. “I think you should get some rest, you’re quite drunk and don’t know what you’re saying.”

He’s sputtering, furious. “You’re nothing. You’ll never be Queen in my eyes. Pah, which ever man thought it was a good idea to make woman Queens needs his manhood chopped off.” He’s slurring so much I can’t even really understand what he’s saying.

I am struck by his words. “I can have you executed for speaking ill of my family, I hope you understand that.”

His mouth curls, “Then let me get out one more thing, rutting and breeding is for a woman, ruling is for men. You’d go mad if you accepted the truth of what you are. You are not a Queen,” the sneer doesn’t leave his face as he continues, “Your mother was the worst Queen there ever was in her…short time of Ruling.” He pushes me against the wall, hard.

I try to shrug him off, but he grabs my throat, fingers pressing hard enough to cut off my airflow. “I could kill you right now and do the realm a favor,” he says. “And you would be forgotten. It would be as though you’d never been born, putting an end to the reign of feeble woman.”

There is no doubt in my mind that he means it, no doubt at all. Gasping, I pull the knife from my little pocket and stab him in the side. Right between his ribs. If my knife had been any longer, I would’ve punctured his lung and…I would’ve felt fine with that.

His eyes go wide with shock. His grip on me loosens. I know what my father would say- to push the blade higher. Go for an artery. Go for his heart. But if I manage it, I will have murdered someone and I don’t want to have that on my hands. He’s not worth it.

I balk and pull the knife free, running from the hallway. I shove the bloody blade into my pocket. Maids come to my aid and call soldiers to pick up the man. My boots clatter on the stone as I head to my chamber. Looking back, I see him on his knees, pressing a hand to his side to stanch the blood as Soldiers haul him up, making him let out a hiss of pain.

I round the corner and nearly run down Aemond.

  “Maella.” he exclaims. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I say, moving past him and he’s not grabbing me to stop. There’s blood on my knuckles, blood on my fingers, but not much. I would rub it off on my dress but blood is hard to get out so I wait until I’m in the bedroom.

I tell myself that I don’t mind that he spoke ill of me and my position as Queen. I’m almost at the doors when Diana comes rushing beside me.

  “What happened?” She asks in urgency.

I look at her and shrug. “Nothing.” we both enter the bed chambers and I see she’s already gotten me a bath ready. I slip off my dress, making sure I don’t get any blood on the piece of clothing before slipping in. The blood instantly curls in the water, lifting off my knuckles and hand as I sink lower, covering half my face.

Diana gets working on my hair when we hear the door bang open and Aemond’s voice. “Where is she?” He asks angrily and I call for him. He appears in the doorway, and I can almost say that he looks…scared for me.

  “I’m fine. No nicks or cuts or bruises.” I say, holding up my now fine hands from the water. I see him sort of relax a bit and I smile to myself, knowing he was somewhat actually worried about me. I sit up and Diana removes her hands from my hair and I excuse her to leave for a second. “You worried about me, huh?”

  “Sorry to say, but I’d rather not find the Queen of the Red Keep lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Not my style.”

  “So you were worried.” I say, grabbing the pitcher full of water used to wash my hair and I pour it over me. I know Aemond’s looking away right now, not wanting to see anything I haven’t given him permission to see. When I have fully rinsed my hair, I’m looking up at him and he’s looking back at me. I know this is all acting, but he looks so genuinely worried I actually think he cares about me for a second. “I’m fine. The drunkard got the best of it.”

He nods and walks away, letting Diana come back in.

Chapter Text

I rise with the dawn, as was my daily custom, with a terrible crick in my neck. Pale light streams through my chamber window, illuminating the swirling dust motes in the air. I stretch leisurely, feeling well-rested despite the long nights preceding.

My bath is drawn already, steaming gently. I sink into the fragrant waters with a sigh, letting the heat ease my tired muscles. As I soaked, my thoughts turned to last night’s events. Fear and panic had gripped the Red Keep upon hearing of my supposed “accident”. In truth, nothing had happened to me.

I smirked, remembering how easily my King consort acted. His dismay had been all too plain to see…almost as if he cared for my well-being. Preposterous, of course. And yet, a small, treasonous part of me wondered…but I shake my head to dispel such fanciful notions. Aemond is my ally of convenience at best, enemy at worst. Anything more held no logic.

Rising from the bath, I begin my morning rituals with care. I select a rich damask gown of sapphire silk, accentuating my waist and chest to shapely effect. Silver jewelry is clasped around my neck and wrists, a glittering crown atop long silver locks.

Thus prepared, I steal from my chambers, veiled face upturned like a moonflower. I glide through the halls unstopped, servants and guards alike bowing their heads in deference. At last I reach the training yard, where sure enough, Aemondis putting the knights through their paces.

I watch, evaluating, as Aemond bests opponent after opponent with fervid passion. His muscles bunch and coil beneath sweat-slicken skin, powerful body moving with predatory grace. When practice ends, I applause with the others, drawing some eyes. Aemond turns and looks at me, startled expression at seeing my quickly morphs into something akin to vexation. How droll.

  “My Queen,” he greets stiffly, approaching. “I trust you have…recovered from your mishap?”

I favor him with a dazzling smile. “Never better, thanks to your dutiful worrying.” My eyes glint with conspiratorial amusement. With that, I saunter back inside and he follows- like the moth to my flame.

~~~~~

Aemond's POV:

I tear my eyes away from Maella's retreating form, signaling for my squire to fetch me a towel. I wipe the perspiration from my face and body, trying to ignore the heat rising within that had little to do with exertion.

Maella is a vexing creature, that much is certain. My games and riddles threatened to undo my careful self-control. Yet I find myself helpless but to play along, as though bound by an unseen string only she possessed.

Rejoining her in the hall, I match her graceful stride with long steps of my own.

  “What?” She snaps as I stare at her.

I just simply shrug. I set to fixing my shirt over my head. As bizarre as it was to converse with her- to have her living in my home-it was oddly reminiscent of the vast portion of my life during which I had seen her every single day during dinner. “You know, I would’ve thought you would be researching,” I say dryly. “Surely you have better access to resources than I do. Tell me, have you seen your dragon, recently-”

  “Do not speak about my dragon which your mother had taken away from me. Trust me, I’ve been researching how to get out of this marriage the same as you have, maybe even more, and I’ve found nothing.” My face falls into a scowl at her tone. “There is no way out. The only way is to escape on dragon back, my dragon back. But alas even that has been taken away from me even though I’m the Queen and should make those decisions for myself.” My eyes flick to hers. “Believe me, I would leave you in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for the promised protection of being married to you.” She seethes, her nail digging into my chest.

I roll my eyes, but my posture is more rigid as I turn back to watch her go. “Hurts doesn’t it?” I ask. “Everything you’ve done for the realm as Queen, being the daughter that Rhaenyra always wanted, the daughter that the realm thought was dead, and everyone see’s you as nothing more than a tool to be used in politics?” I know she feels like crying or screaming. Or punching me. I deliver one final blow. “You must be so proud of the role you are playing in bringing about a new generation of woman rulers.”

She finally says something. “Shockingly, I would rather be in an unmarked grave somewhere than married to you.” She looks down her nose, narrowing her eyes at me. “But just barely.”

A muscle in my jaw twitches, but she doesn’t see it.

~~~!!~~~

Rain has come. It had lasted through the night and the following morning dawned gray and dismal, perfectly suited to my mood. It’s past ten and I’m still lying in bed. I’m awake, of course- have been almost the whole night really- but it is still a strange sensation to be lounging about as a Queen on a weekday.

It’s weird because this is the same thing that I had been doing during the honeymoon period of Aemond and I’s marriage. What was supposed to be spent creating a new bloodline and enjoying each other’s company as best we could before duties called upon us, I spent it lying in bed, depressed, not able to ride my dragon or see my family. Diana would have to force me to eat and drink. For me, the honeymoon phase meant hours locked away with an unwelcome guest and no work to distract me from my pitiful situation.

My thoughts and peaceful morning is crudely interrupted when Aemond knocks on the door. I know it’s him because he always knocks twice. However this was more like hammering. Two sharp bangs.

  “What?” I ask him sharply, standing up and opening the door. He’s standing there, food on a tray. “What is this?”

  “Eat it.” He tells me, quirking an eyebrow like I’m stupid and don’t know what food is for.

  “Not hungry.” I go to shut the door but he stops it from happening. He kicks it open, setting the plate down on his desk.

  “While I don’t care if you live or die, I’ve heard hunger is the worst way to go out and I’d rather my wife look healthy and thriving than sickly and thin. I’m sure King’s Landing would like it as well to see their Queen looking…well like a Queen should.”

I sigh, taking some cheese and a vine of grapes and settling back into bed, popping them into my mouth. Thankfully, Aemond takes his leave and I’m alone again. As the rain smoothly comes to a halt, I decide to take a small walk before and if it starts up again. I get dressed quickly with no help from Diana and the bitter tan of impending rain hung heavily in the air as I set out from the Red Keep.

Wrapping in a thick cloak for warmth, I follow well-trodden paths down to Flea Bottom, boots crunching loose pebbles underfoot. As always, the city teemed with life-huddled beggars pleading charity, fishwives hawking wares with brassy voices. I pick my way past, nodding greetings while keeping alert. These streets hold obvious dangers, especially for a lady alone.

Leaving the hovels behind at last, I begin to climb. Barren branches scrap an iron-gray sky, skeletal guardians of my ascent. At the hill’s crest, I pause to catch my breath, gazing out over a vista of spires made gray by the rain.

Chapter Text

I am lying on my bed, just letting my body rest when I hear rustling on the balcony. I turn, expecting an animal or just leaves scraping the ground from the wind when I realize the person rattling the doors isn’t those things at all. It’s a man. The same man that stumbled into me a couple nights ago while coming back from dinner. He has a long, curving knife in one hand and a smile every bit as sharp pulling at his mouth.

  “What…” I scramble into a sitting position. I realize I’m whispering as though I’m afraid of this man.

  “Just who I’m looking for.” The man says, striding closer. He smells like alcohol, not surprising, and woods. I am not sure where he’s been before this, but I don’t think he’s sober.

  “This is my home. Who do you think you are trying to enter it?” I am prepared, I have a knife in my boot and another at my hip, but I don’t reach for neither. I am completely flummoxed by this man being here, in Aemond and I’s chambers.

He walks up to my bed. He’s holding the knife well enough, but I can tell he’s not particularly good with it at all. He is not a man.

  “None of this is yours, girl.” He tells me, voice shaking with pure venom.

  “If someone put you up to this, you should really rethink it.” I say, finally, now afraid. By some miracle, my voice stays steady though. “Because if I scream, there are guards placed everywhere, especially outside my room. They’ll come. They’ve got big bigger swords than that puny one in your hand. You’re going to get killed.”

He doesn’t seem to be absorbing my words. His eyes are wild and not entirely focusing on me. “Do you know what my wife told me when I told her you stabbed me? That the Queen stabbed me? She told me…it was no more than I deserved.”

  “What did you expect? You threatened me in my home, the Queen in her own home.” I say, trying to hide my surprise.

If he wasn’t sure he wanted to stab me before, he’s certainly sure now. With a leap, he slams the blade into my mattress as I roll out of the way and onto my feet. Feathers fly up when he draws back the blade, drifting through the air like snow. He scrambles to his feet as I pull out a dagger of my own.

The man advances on me again. He’s intoxicated and furious and not all that well trained, but he’s still one of my people. One that I don’t want to hurt. My heart is hammering in my chest. I should scream for help. I should scream.

I open my mouth, and he lunges at me. The scream comes out as a whuff of breath as I lose my balance. My shoulder hits the floor hard as I roll again. I am practiced enough that despite my surprise, I kick his knife hand when he comes toward me. the blade skitters across the floor.

  “Okay, I say, as though I am trying to calm us both down. “Okay.”

He doesn’t pause though. Even though I am holding a knife, even though I’ve avoided his attack twice and disarmed him, even though I’ve stabbed him once before, he grabs for my throat again. His fingers sink into the flesh of my neck, and I remember how it felt to drown at seven years old, water flowing into my open mouth. I remember choking on the salty taste which just made me inhale more. I look into his eyes and find the same expression there that had been on his face the night he first attacked me.

I feel him grab my dagger from my boot and with his eyes on mine, he slams the knife into my hand. The pain is a wave that rises higher an higher but never crashes. I make a sound low in my throat. His expression is odd, blank. He lifts himself off of me, as though I am the one who did the shocking thing instead of him doing it. Then he clears his throat.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” I gasp and draw the blade out again. Blood runs over the floor and part of my dress, more than I expect. I feel suddenly dizzy. “Serves you right.”

He’s wrong about me. He doesn’t get to tell me how people think of me or what he thinks of my mother. He doesn’t get to bastardize my family and myself. If I can’t be better than the men before me, I will become much much worse.

His fingers aren’t on my windpipe anymore and despite the way my vision has begun to go dark around the edges because of the influx of air in my lungs, I make sure of my strike before I drive my knife that I picked up off the floor with my injured hand, into his chest. Into his fucking heart.

The man rolls off of me, making a gurgling sound. I suck in lungfuls of air. He tries to stand, sways, and falls back to his knees. Looking over at him dizzily, I see the hilt of my knife sticking out of his chest. The white of his blouse turning red. He reaches for the blade as though to draw it out.

  “Don’t,” I say automatically, because that will only make the wound worse. I grab for anything nearby- there is a discarded sheet on the floor that I can use to stanch the blood despite my hand screaming at me to stop. He slides down onto his side, away from me, and sneers. “Please, let me-”

  “I curse you,” The man whispers. “I curse you and your bloodline. Three times, I curse you. As you’ve, the Queen, murdered me, may your hands always be stained with blood. I ho-hope death is your sole companion. I hope-” but he breaks off abruptly, coughing. When he stops, he doesn’t stir nor breath. His eyes stay as they are, half-lidded, but the life in them has gone.

My wounded hand flies to cover my mouth in horror at the curse, as though to stop a scream, but I don’t scream. I haven’t screamed this whole time, and I’m not going to start now when there’s nothing to scream about.

As minutes sip by, I just sit there beside the man, watching the skin of his face grow pale at the blood no longer pumps to it, watching his lips go a kind of blue. My hand hurts awfully bad, I feel as though I may pass out as I look at my own reflection in the mirror across the room: a Queen, hair tousled, eyes feverish, red dripping down my chest and hand onto the floor below at my feet. Aemond is coming soon. He should know what to do with a dead body, right? I’m sure he’s killed people before…maybe. No, I should be able to hide the body myself. I need to hide the body myself. Adrenaline still rushing, I scan the room, hoping for inspiration but all I see is the bed against the wall so I’m quickly getting the sheet, spreading it out, and rolling the man onto it.

I feel a little queasy and not just from my hand. His body is still warm. I ignore it though, and drag him over to the bed and push him and all the skirts underneath first with my hands and then when I feel like passing out from that, my feet. Only a smear of blood remains. I get the pitcher of water near the bedside and splash some on the stone floors and then some on my face and hand. My good hand is shaking as I finish wiping up, and I sink to the floor, both hands in my hair.

And when the doors open and Aemond comes in seeing the reddish water on the floor and blood in my hair, on my dress, and my injured hand, only then do I allow myself to finally feel the pain. I’m hurting, badly. I can’t focus on anything, especially Aemond as he rushes to me. My muscles tense and shake with the strain, my breathing coming in short, pained gasps.

  “Aemond.” I whimper as I feel him sweeping me into his arms and the world goes dark.

Chapter Text

Consciousness returns to me slowly, my body awash in agony. Memories surface in fragments- the man, the fight, him stabbing me through the hand, blood everywhere on myself and the floor before all went black. A low groan escapes my lips as pain drags me fully awake.

At the sound, servants swarm, exclamations of dismay fill the air. “My lady! She wakes at last!” Hands clutch at me, proffering vials of Milk of the Poppy which I weakly turn away. Too muddled was my mind for heavy droughts.

I try to rise, only to fall back with a cry against piled pillows. Through heavy lids I see him then- Aemond watching gravely from a shadowed corner. Meeting my questioning gaze, he moves forward, dismissing the servants with an authoritative murmur.

“Leave us. The lady requires rest, not your clucking.” They withdraw reluctantly, still tittering like hens. Silence falls as Aemond pulls close a chair, eyeing my battered form clinically. “You gaze us a scare. Can you sit?”

I nod, his calm demeanor bringing clarity. Gritting my teeth, I push upright, sweat beading my ashen brow. “I…my hand. It bleeds still. Hurts like the devil.”

Gently, Aemond unbinds the soiled bandage to reveal a ghastly gash straight through the middle of my palm. The sight turns even my iron stomach and his, but his touch remains tender as feather-light inspection. “Come, we need to tend it properly.”

I lean on his offered arm, legs unsteady. With care, Aemond guides me towards the bath and what I hoped was some relief from my torment. Each step agony lacing through my battered body, but pride keeps weak cries contained.

Reaching the lavish bathing chamber at last, Aemond eases me onto a cushioned bench. I sit hunched, complexion pale as new snow yet lips bloodless as I look at myself in the mirror. Sweat beads my brow in pearls.

“Remain still,” he murmurs, fetching basin and supplies. I give a tight nod, fisting my skirts in anguish. Returning, Aemond dampens a cloth in rose-scented water, wringing it gently before dabbing my face. I flinch away instinctively, a ghost of protest dying in my throat. Exhaustion and pain has wearied fight from my bones. Letting slip my pride’s iron reins, I allow this unlikely tenderness, his ministering bringing dull relief. One my face is cleansed, Aemond turns his attention to my mangled hand. Gash edges are inflamed, pocked with debris. “This will hurt,” he warns gruffly, uncorking skin of antiseptic soap berry oil. I brace myself, jaw setting in a hard line.

With careful strokes Aemond works away dried blood and filth, ignoring how my flesh jumps and quivers. Each pass brings hot agony lancing up my arm but I refuse to shed a tear, meeting his studious gaze with resolute silence. The wound is laid bare at last, an ugly rent slicing palm. Aemond cleans and inspects thoroughly before selecting needle and silk thread, prepped in alcohol flame. “I must close this now. Bite down if you wish.”

I give a curt nod, eyes never leaving his face. Strong needle pulls taught skin together in precise, economical stitches, my lone show of pain a whitening of knuckles where fingers grasped the bench edge in vice. At long last the weaving is done, wound dressed and bound with clean linen. Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath, lungs aching for release. And too, I discover tears tracking silently down my face, betraying the excruciating ordeal just faced.

With my wound tended, I sag in exhaustion. Yet Aemond’s careful hands linger in silent query. I nod feebly.

“I just want…to go back to bed.”

Aemond obliges without word, gentling an arm around my waist. Even this light contact causes me to hiss through gritted teeth; deep bruises must paint my skin in ugly hues. Still I endure, limping step by haulting step.

At last, the bed is in my sights. With utmost care, Aemond lays me on the featherbed, propping up my sore body with plush pillows. My every hiss and sigh stokes his ire for those responsible I just know it.

“Rest now. I’ll bring possets for your pain.” He turns to leave but my pleas stop him.

“Wait, Aemond. My dress. It chafes and I can’t-” Beyond ruined, the torn fabric aggravates each tender wound. Yet to undress myself seems an insurmountable task. I pause, considering.

After a long moment he gives a crisp nod. “Tell me how to proceed.”

I direct him in pained murmurs to unfasten laces and stays with utmost care. Layer by layer the remnants are eased away, revealing raw scrapes and deep, mottled bruises coloring my skin.

Aemond suppresses something I can’t quite tell at the cruelty upon me that the very man who brought it is now still, hopefully, lying underneath our bed. Gently, he brushes fingertips along each injured area, cataloging hurts in fevered thought. I stiffen but do not shrink away from his touch.

At last my ordeal is over, the ruin of my dress discarded. Aemond lifts light linens to drape my modesty, tucking them with practiced tenderness around battered flesh. “Rest would be good for you, though I can’t tell you what to do.” He left then, footsteps fading into grim resolve. I sigh into downy softness, granting myself solace in a long-denied escape into oblivion’s gentle arms.

~~!!~~

I do not think of duties. Shaking all over, Diana strokes my hair briefly, as though I am a drowsy cat, and then returns to the task of sorting my dresses. My hand hurts so much that I cannot bear to put any pressure on it, even the bandage itself feels as though its crushing it even though I know Aemond tied it as loose as possible but still effective.

I just cradle it against my chest.

It throbs, the pain coming in staggering pulses, like a second, ragged heartbeat. I cannot bring myself to do more than lie there and wait for it to soothe itself. My thoughts just drift dizzily.

As Diana moves around the room, my eyes close, and I fall into a strange, fitful sleep. When I wake, it’s full night, and I am sweaty all over. I feel oddly calm as Aemond breathes deeply from beside me, though, tears and panic and pain somehow smoothed over. The agony of my hand has turned into a dull throb.

Next morning, I’ll have to push the pain aside and bury the man underneath the bed. I want to wake Aemond and tell him, he would help. But we all want stupid things and it never means that we should have them.

!!~~~!!

Before the castle wakes, I am out of bed and carefully burying the man’s body near the horse stables. I never realised how difficult it is to bury a body. It’s especially not easy to bury a body without your whole kingdom finding out. I must roll the man out to the balcony and then hurl him into the brush below. Then, one-handed, I must drag him away from the house. I am straining and sweating by the time I get to a likely plot of dew-covered grass. Newly woken birds call to one another beneath the brightening sky.

For a moment, all I want to do is lie down and sleep. But then I remember I still have to dig at the Earth.

Chapter Text

The next afternoon is a sleep-deprived blur of being painted and braided, corseted and cinched. Embroidered silver vines run up Aegon’s clothes, and he wears a black cape behind him. Helaena looks like a rose in bloom beside him, wearing a necklace of rough cut obsidian at her throat.

In my room, I unwrap my hand. It looks worse than I had hoped-wet and sticking instead of scabbed over. Swollen. Maester Ceryse insisted the stitches were healing well but looking at it, it seems farther from the truth. I just wash it a little bit, wincing through clenched teeth whenever the water hits it. A phantom ache lingers, flaring any time I move my hand too vigorously.

I wasn’t planning to wear gloves to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera’s celebration but I don’t have much choice. Hunting around in my drawers, I find a set of dark blue silk and draw them on. I imagine having to dance with Aemond, imagine us sweeping around the dance floor. I hope I can avoid flinching if he presses on my palm. I can never let him know what happened to it. No matter how much he acts to like me, he wouldn’t like kissing me or a person who put one of our kingdom’s people in the ground.

Aemond and I pass each other in the hall as we dart around, grabbing stray things we need. Helaena goes through my jewelry cabinet, finding nothing adequately matching her dress. I look at Aegon who is standing nearby, chatting with Aemond as Aemond hastily looks for his boots.

  “You’re actually going?” I say. “Alicent will be stunned.” I am wearing a necklace with blue gems that are in the shape of Forget Me Not’s to cover the bruises that are blooming where the man’s fingers sank into my skin.

  “I like to keep everyone on their toes,” he says. “Besides, I want to talk with my brother. Is that a crime, niece?”

I shrug as Helaena gets to her knees to sort through a tangle of earrings. I have a terror that she will glance beneath my bed and see a spot that I forgot to clean. The sun shines brightly as I make my way slowly through the courtyard, banners bearing the red, three-headed dragon sigil of House Targaryen snaps proudly in the breeze while flowers of every hue perfumes the warm air. The scent soothes my frayed nerves but did little to ease the lingering sting beneath the wrappings.

I reach the foot of the stairs just as guests began arriving through the towering front gates. Nobles from all corners of the Realm streamed in on horseback, bearing lavish gifts piled high in decorative wagons. I try to wave in greeting but the pull of skin makes me think twice, fingers curling into a loose fist at my side.

Musicians take up their instruments near the high table, their lilting melodies lifting spirits as servants carted out heaping platters of roast meats, fresh breads and ripened fruits. My stomach rumbles hungrily despite my discomfort, not having eaten since breaking my fast this morning. Wine, I know, would take the edge off both hunger and pain alike.

I sit myself near the edge of the festivities, closer to an ornate stone fountain where cool water bubbles cheerfully. Servants tend to my every need, refilling my flagon of Arbor red at the slightest inclination. After the first few gulps the tension in my shoulders begin unwinding, muscles unknotting with each sip.

!!!!___!!!!!

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are both in cricket green, dancing around in front of the wooden doors that lead to the dining hall. When they see me, they run over, wanting me to carry them, then they run off to the halls to run around before I can. They are Targaryen children with dragon blood in their veins.

Helaena looks beautiful in her heavily embroidered dress which matches her husbands clothes, and Aemond radiant in soft violet black with artfully sewn in dragons seeming to fly from his shoulders across his chest to gather in another school on one side of his waist. I realize how rarely I’ve seen my husband in truly splendid clothes and not the black leather he always wears. His hair is slightly pulls back with his natural curls showing. His eye gleams in the half light. I take his hand with my undamaged one and he squeezes hard. We grin at each other, conspirators for once.

The lights shone brightly in the Dining Hall as the castle buzzed with excitement for the twins and their parents. Banners and streamers decorated the halls and flowers adorned every surface, their sweet perfume soothing my senses as I steady myself against the stone walls.

A few cups of wine should take the edge off, I thought to myself as the feast began soon. My heartbeat drums faster. I keep remembering not to wipe my hand on my skirts for fear of smearing it with food. Eventually, I pull out a handkerchief I soaked in rose and mint water to wipe myself down with. Jaehaera is near me and I see her face coated in food, thinking her mother would want her to look respectful and like the beautiful princess she is, it starts with a chase as I go to wash her but she tries to avoid it.

I am so distracted that I don’t even automatically brace when Aemond is suddenly standing beside me. Jaehaera is lurched to a stop before I even notice Aemond. He holds Jaehaera steady so I can finally wipe the grease from food off her face and as soon as I’m done, Aemond is letting her go and she does.

Musicians play a lively tune to welcome the guests. Lords and ladies from across the Riverlands had come to pay their respects and dote on the young prince. I smile at the sweet scene of Maelor in his mother’s arms, his chubby hands grasping for colorful gifts not meant for him. However, standing for so long aggravates my injury, blood rushing where new skin already struggles to form.

There’s music everywhere, urging a light-sens of step. All the music will do is play all night, one dance bleeding into the next, one song becoming another without a single pause to catch your breath. It’s exhilarating to be caught up in the music, to be swept away in the tide of it.

I clasp hands with my friend Brin and another girl and join the circle dance, leaping and laughing. The song itself feels as though it’s calling my blood, moving it through my veins to the same ragged beat, with the same sweet chords. The circle breaks up and somehow I am holding Aemond’s hands. He sweeps me around in a giddy whoosh.

  “You look…” Aemond goes to speak.

  “Awful?” I finish for him.

He smiles down at me with his eye. His silver hair curls around his ears. “I was going to say….nice.” He manages.

I think about what he’s said for a second before answering back, “It’s better than ugly so I’ll take it.” He sweeps me around him, my leather slippers pirouetting over the stone floor. In the distance, a piper begins to play.

  “I would never call my wife ugly.” He says lightly.

  “Yeah, I guess it does depend with you.”

His step falters as we sweep over the floor. “Does it now? Don’t tell me my wife knows-” And then he breaks off speaking, looking behind him. I can barely think. My face is hot.

  “Time to change partners,” a voice says and I look to see that it’s one of the worst people possible: Aegon. “Oh,” he says to Aemond, “Am I stealing your wife?” his tone is unfriendly. Aemond relinquishes me to his elder brother, as if expected out of deference. Aegon offers up Helaena who I see out of the corner of my eye. She’s watching us, Maelor in her arms, Helaena looking lost as people dance around her, swinging their partners in dizzying spirals.

  “What do you want?” I ask him, forcing the words out. I am still thinking about Aemond, still reeling from what he said and what he wanted to say.

~~~!!~~~

As soon as Aegon is done his dance with me, I’m shaking him off. I pour myself some wine with my uninjured hand, drinking deeply. The burn of alcohol dulls the throb in my palm, melting sensations of ache into warm tingling.

Time becomes a blur as cup after cup is emptied. Another cup, then another, I loose count as family and friends laugh and sing around me. The heady elixir washing anxieties downstream. By midnight, I can no longer distinguish colors, their bright hues swimming together nauseatingly. When had the dining hall become a spinning top, tilted at impossible angles? I watch dazedly as dignitaries present the twins and their parents with ornate toys and textiles from across the Narrow Sea. Maelor’s sweet laughter rings clear as bells carried on an undertow of music and merriment swirls all around. I lurch forward, only to be caught by a strong arm before collapsing into some potted plants.

  “You’ve had too much, wife,” said Aemond’s disapproving tone from somewhere above. My vision swirls, unable to focus on his face hovering near. “Come, let’s get you to bed.”

I groan in protest but my legs will not cooperate. Aemond lifts me gently and easily onto his shoulder, my body going limp like a rag doll. I turn to face him but can’t because of the angle. The steady beat of his heart I can hear through his clothes comforts my roiling stomach.

Around them the celebration continues undisturbed as Aemond carries me, his drunken burden, from the court. My clouded mind drifts in and out of consciousness, only distantly aware of passing through darkened halls. At least we reached our chambers, where he lays me down gently onto the soft covers.

  “Sleep it off, lady wife. You’ll feel wretched on the morrow, I’m sure.” Aemond removes my shoes and pulls a light sheet over my curled form. His tone held husband concern beneath the chiding words. I mumble something incoherent as oblivion claims me at last, escaping into dreamless forgetfulness where no pain can find me.

Chapter Text

Morning’s first rays find me retching pitifully into a basin, a jug of cool water within reach mercifully to rinse the foul taste. Bright sunlight stabs mercilessly through my clenched eyelids, pounding needles driving relentlessly into my aching head.

Even the act of breathing causes jagged shards of pain to pierce my throbbing temples. My parched mouth tastes worse than the stables and my stomach roils precariously, threatening revolt at any moment again. This wretched state can only mean one thing- I had seriously overindulged in wine the night before.

Memories float hazily to the surface-music and laughter swirling gaily around me, cup after cup draining under the guise of numbing my wound but truly to quench my inner turmoil. Then darkness as my inebriated body rebels against further abuse. No doubt Aemond had the miserable task of wrangling my sloshed form to bed like a sad sack of grain.

With monumental effort, I pry on eye open a slit, immediately regretting the decision as molten sunlight scalds my tender vision. The room careens sickeningly, spinning on some mad axis until my stomach can’t take no more. Lunging for the basin, I retch till there’s nothing left, sour bile the only offering to the gods for my crimes against moderation.

A soft knock at the door frame causes fresh waves of agony to crash over my skull like ocean breakers.

  “Enter at your own risk,” I rasp feebly once the heaving subsides. Boos scuff lightly across rushes, then a familiar voice asks gently,

  “Still among the living, I see.” Aemond hands me a damp cloth to wipe my chin and lips, his eyes dancing with poorly concealed amusement. “And what have we learned about overindulgence, hmm?”

Wincing as even his lowered tones aggravate my misery, I mumble, “Wine is a friend best taken in small measures.”

Aemond chuckles softly. “Wise words. Now rest- there’s broth and water aplenty to restore you once your hangover has passed.”

~~~~

That night, I drowse in my bed, fully dressed, with Aemond gone from beside me. I have looked over every text he’s brought to our chambers for two hours straight and we’re now both annoyed with the books and each other.

I put those feelings as far out of my head as I can and concentrate on resting. Breathing in and out. When I first arrived here, I had trouble sleeping. Then again when I was married. You’d think I’d have had nightmares, but I don’t remember any. Instead, I couldn’t calm down enough to rest, thinking that at any moment I would be dragged away again or worse, Aemond would come for me. I would toss and turn all night and all morning, my heart racing, finally falling into a headachy sleep in the late afternoon when the rest of the castle was up and walking around, eating their lunch or practicing swords, etc.

I took to wandering the corridors of the house at night like a restless spirit, reading through ancient books, moving around the game pieces on the Cyvasse board, eating sandwiches in the kitchens, and staring out at the sea as the tide comes in and out. Diana would find me and guide me back to my chambers, telling me that if I couldn’t sleep, then I ought to just close my eyes and lie still. Then at least my body could rest, even if my mind won’t.

So that’s what I’m doing, I’m lying like that when I decide a walk will probably do me some good. Relax me enough. I wander through the godswood listlessly, kicking at fallen leaves on the ground. Ever since Rhaenyra and Daemon had left me here, really abandoning me for the second time in my short life so far, a deep sadness had taken root in my soul.

A rustling in the trees breaks me from my reverie. I scramble into a fighting stance when they emerge. It’s Aemond. His black clothes glimmered in the soft glow. He should still be in his study right now. He also had a strange expression on his face.

  “What business bring you here so late, my King?”

  “Come with me,” was all he says before turning on his hell. Curious and intrigued, I hurry to follow. Together we exited the godswood and made our way across the Bailey. Aemond's leather-clad hand a reassuring warmth at my back. What did he have planned that demanded discretion?

My question is answered as we arrive at the Dragon Pit, where two beasts stir their massive leathery wings- Aemond's Dragon and…mine. Lyrax. My dragon. Awaiting me to ride her. I gasp softly. How long had passed since I last flew? Too many moons under marriage and Queenhood's duties.

  “A ride?” I breath in disbelief. Turning, I find Aemond merely nodding, avoiding my gaze.

  “I decided that my Queen should get to ride her dragon seeing as though I am King Consort and do have some authority.” Underneath his solid expression, I could see his face shining with boyish excitement, years falling away. He’s acting as though he’s a little boy again who has stolen my dragon away from his mother, gifting it to me like a prized diamond.

So how can I refuse?

Aemond knows I can get up myself so he just closely monitors, his hands outstretched in front of him in-case I do forget how to mount my dragon and do fall or my hand decides to give out some way. As soon as I’m all set, Aemond climbs upon his. Lyrax springs aloft with a mighty beat of her wings, tears streaming on my cheeks already, borne on the wind.

Far below, the castle’s candles flicker, dragonfire glinting off Blackwater Bay. Lost admits the glory of flight, I utter the words, “Dracarys.” and Lyrax springs to life, her mouth opening wide to spite the fire that comes out across the water’s waves, crashing against the rocks.

I laugh like a little kid.

The wind whips through my hair, below, the keep and surrounding lands shrink to miniature scale. It feels like years of gloom lift from my shoulders in that moment of freedom and exhilaration.

When we land back in the bailey, I turn to Aemond with shining eyes. “Thank you,” I say earnestly.

His mouth is set in a hard line as he says, “A Queen should have the right to ride her dragon. Simply that.”

Two guards help me down before bringing the dragons back to the pits as Aemond and I hurry off back to the castle. We probably both smell like dragon but it’s a smell I’ve been missing so I’m fine with it. One of Aemond’s servants busies herself with making him a bath while I just get undressed to my underclothes before going to fetch Diana.

My feet are silent against the floors of the halls and kitchens as I finally make it to the maids quarters. As I round the corner though, I bump into someone and mutter a ‘I’m so sorry!’ before realizing it’s the exact person I’m looking for. “Diana!” I say and she has to shush me so I don’t wake the others. I wince at my volume before she’s dragging me to a secluded room. “You’ll never believe what just happened!” I say.

  “Well by the smell of you, you’ve obviously rode your dragon.” I wait for it to connect within her and I watch her eyes light up as she keeps going over her own words. “Oh my gods,” she finally says, her eyes going wide and making a smile appear on my face. “You rode your dragon!”

  “Yeah!” I nod enthusiastically, practically jumping up and down.

  “Wait how? Why?!”

I shake my head. “Aemond! He took me for a ride!”

  “No absolute way he did.” Diana says, shaking her head as well.

  “He did! He did! But you can’t tell anyone.”

Diana pretends to lock her lips and toss away the key, amused. I know it pleases her to see me finally being happy here. Perhaps where the adults failed, the youth might succeed in building new understanding.

—~~~~

The next morning, I awoke with a smile still lingering on my lips. The memory of flying clung to me like a sweet dream. Aemond is already gone from beside me but I don’t mind it. The servants come in and Diana makes a wrinkled nose at the smell of dragon that still lingers on my skin and clothes. She rushes me into a bath as she and the other maids pull the sheets from the bed.

I dress and walk downstairs to break my fast. Aemond and I make eye contact, both smiling as I take the seat next to him. He kisses my cheek before turning back to his meal and I don’t have to act as though I feel disgusted by it like before, before I take my seat and tell the servants what I want to eat.

Chapter Text

The feast in the Great Hall was in full swing, but I found my mind elsewhere. Throughout the meal I pick at my food, only half-hearing the conversations around me. My thoughts remained skyward, recalling each breathless moment aboard Lyrax.

When I can’t bear the noise and company any longer, I ease back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I find I’ve lost my appetite.” None tried to detain me as I slipped from the hall. My footsteps carry me instinctively to the one place where I find solace- the castle library. Tall shelves overflow with aged tomes chronicling the history of Westeros and beyond. I breath deep the scent of old parchment, feeling some of the day’s tension ease. Wandering deeper amid the stacks, my eyes scan the names until one catches my interest.

Settling into a window seat, I draw the book into my lap and begin to read of past Dragonriders and their mounts. Talks of heroes from centuries past fill my mind with daring deeds. For a time, I’m lost in another world, surrounded only by flickering torchlight and imaginary skies. A sound rouses me from my reading- the creak of hinges from the entrance. Quickly as I mark my page, curiosity piques as booted steps draw nearer. Around the bookshelf strides a familiar figure, one I haven’t expected to find admits dusty volumes.

The candle dwindles and I mark my page before putting it back on the shelf where I found it. I arrive at my chambers, tired yet restless after another long day. Every day feels long now after being able to fly again. My skin itches for Aemondto bring me on another ride but I don’t ask, it seems…pathetic of a Targaryen to beg someone else for them to ride their own dragon. All I wish is a hot bath and early sleep, however, upon the bed lay a most curious sight- a bundle of stained linen wrappings. Intrigued, I lift the note atop.

  ‘Come find me’ -Aemond

A thrill goes through me at the thought of such adventure with Aemond. Hurriedly, I dress myself in the commoner’s clothes, tucking my telltale locks under a cap. Thus altered enough, I slip from my room and make my way down secret corridors until I happen upon the stables. There I find Aemond readying a mount, attired similarly in plainspun. I just hope that he doesn’t notice the upturned ground. “You came,” he remarks, a glint of amusement in his eye. Helping me into the saddle, we set out from the castle under cover of dusk.

The streets of Flea Bottom teem with life even at such an hour. Merchants call their wares while children play in the alleys. No one spares us a second glance for the pair upon our stead. As we dismount as a bustling tavern, I feel a thrill at such disguise.

Within, the pub roars with drunken song and chatter. Aemond procures us ale, pressing a flaggon into my hands. I take a tentative sip, brows knitting at the bitter taste. Aemond chuckles at my reaction, finishing his before tossing coins on the scarred wood. “Come, there’s more to see.”

His hand finds mine as we slip back into the night. Now the streets fill me with curiosity rather than fear.

~~~

The bustling sounds of the city fade behind me as we make our way back through the deserted streets under a glittering night sky. Our earlier revelry had given way to a more pensive mood as the castle gradually draws nearer. We slip back through secret corridors and happen upon our bed chamber, stripping off the commoner clothes and shoving them way back in our separate drawers.

But I can’t get the ties on one of the sets of clothes and as much as I don’t want to, I ask Aemond for help. He’s already in his bed clothes as he begins to carefully unlace the clothing, not wanting to touch me anywhere I haven’t permitted. The tension between us is palpable as I look at his face.

When he’s done, he goes to turn away but I quickly grab his wrist. He turns around, looking at my grip and then my face. “Aemond.” I say and I realize I don’t think I’ve ever said his name like that before. I’ve never said it with such care. I don’t have to say anything else as he brings his mouth to mine.

One of his hands goes to my face while the other wraps around the back of my head to crush my lips closer to his own. I feel his other hand curl around the side of my face, his thumb tracing the corner of my lips. I moan into his mouth. Being touched like this, being wanted by a person who I thought has hated me this whole time, is the most heightened emotion I’ve ever felt.

Aemond claims me with as much fire as I feel burning in my blood and I push myself against his chest, pushing us both back against the bed, feeling Aemond fall upon it and I climb on top of him, his hands going to my waist.

His lips are the closest things to heaven that I’ve ever tasted. Kissing him is betraying my family, I know that, but I don’t care. I’d gladly put myself back in it. His tongue snakes into my mouth and laves over mine while desire begins to pool low in my belly. His arm snakes around my waist and presses me more firmly against him as he runs his tongue along my bottom lip.

I lift my face to the ceiling so I can take a much needed breath but that doesn’t stop Aemond. He begins to run his teeth along my jawline, trailing kisses down my neck. His teeth sink down on my clavicle and I arch into him, running my own fingers through his hair.

Bringing my face down again, I catch the hungriness, the gleam in his eye before I crush my mouth onto his once again. I begin to rock against him, back and forth, which makes him moan deep in his throat and his hands tighten on my waist, surely going to leave bruises the next morning to few days. He sits us up before he’s encouraging me and I grind myself against him, feeling him growing hard underneath his trousers.

  “I want you, Maella.” Gods, he says my name like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. His mouth moves down to my shoulder, peppering kisses there before he utters more. “I want you so much, I can scarcely breathe.” That certainly makes two of us. He grabs a fistful of my hair, gently pulling it back so I’m looking at him, breaking our lips contact. “Will you have me?”

I only answering him after connecting our lips once more. “Yes,” I say, putting both my hands on his face. It’s only when breaking from him that I hear our chests heaving. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

Chapter Text

I only answering him after connecting our lips once more. “Yes,” I say, putting both my hands on his face. It’s only when breaking from him that I hear our chests heaving. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

Aemond is hasty to stand and pull his shift over his head, and I turn my head away, not wanting to look. But I feel his hand grip my chin, moving my head back to look at his face. Aemond swallows as he wets his lips, guiding my fingers to trace down his abdomen. I watch, holding my breath as my fingertips drag against his skin, dipping and catching on every indent of his stomach as it flexes underneath my touch.

  “I-I’ve never done this before.” I say, stupidly.

  “I know.” He says, his forehead is now resting against mine. “However if you had done it before, I’d be pleasantly surprised.”

This isn’t happening right now. I feel my breathing pick up. I can’t pass it up…He takes my hands by my side, urging both of them to grip the hem of his pants. “Take them off.” His voice almost sounds like a whimper but it’s Aemond. Aemond doesn’t whimper. He’s far more composed than I am, I’m gripping onto his trousers like I’m on hanging off the tallest turret of the Red Keep.

I bite the inside of my cheek, uneasy fingers fumbling with the laces, cursing myself silently at how difficult this is for me apparently. I’d give anything to have the amount of confidence and poise Aemond has right now.

  “Maella…” He says and all I can do is watch as his stomach flexes when my fingers graze against his lower abdomen. “Look at me.” I lift my eyes to his and he wets his lips before saying, “Focus on me. Keep going, it’s just you and me.”

Our eyes stay locked on each other as I manage to unlace his trousers hanging low on his hips, swallowing as my stressed fingers move between the fabric and his smooth skin to push them down his legs. His hands come down to stroke mine reassuringly as I look up at him, feeling his trousers pool around his feet. He kicks off the rest of the fabric and steps closer to me, keeping his eye on me, reading my reaction as his hands slip down to touch the hem of her shirt. “Don’t be scared. Now with me.”

I can only keep watching her as my pulse picks up, my lips part as I exhale the shallow breaths. Aemond hushes me, leaning his lips against my ear to whisper soft words of encouragement as his hands coax the fabric of my undershirt while also moving his lips to press along my jaw still muttering praises while his fingers pull it over my head.

His hands are cold as they slide up and down my arms, trying to soothe me in my overwhelmed state. I feel his fingers intertwine with my own, giving them a faint squeeze as he pulls back and I open my eyes, seeing him keep his eye firmly on me and I can tell by how tight he’s clenching his jaw right now that he’s trying to keep them where they are unless I tell him otherwise.

He tugs my hand gently. “Still here.”

I let out a breath before dropping his hands and in a blink, I step forward, backing him up against one of the nearest walls of the bedroom. Aemond’s fingers sink and curl into my hips as our lips connect. His hands are everywhere now, exploring and palming every inch of my skin he can reach. I can’t find the words of how it feels when he pushes his hips forward so I can feel his erection.

His lips tear away from mine to move to my neck as I wrap my arms around him, the both of us panting. Aemond grinds his hips forward again, moaning helplessly against my neck as I suck on his, and I can’t control my shallow gasps and whimpers.

  “Tell me what to do.” He asks of me. I remove one of my hands from around his neck and take hold of his hand that’s gripping for dear life around my waist, sliding it between us. We both hold our breathes as I push Aemond’s hand down to my pubic bone, and that’s all the clues he needs before he continues the path, snaking his hand down between my legs.

I gasp, moans rumbling out of Aemond’s mouth when his fingers slide between my folds and I yelp as his teeth sink into my shoulder, cursing loudly as he does so. “Fucking Seven Hells.” I feel Aemond grind himself against the skin next to my hip for some sort of relief as he slowly strokes his fingers around my pussy.

  “Gods, you’re amazing.” he grits through his teeth. The pads of his fingers go to my clit, starting to apply pressure with small slow circles and my head slumps against his, my mouth hanging open as a moan makes its way out of my throat. Aemond lifts his lips to my ear, his breath fanning against it in pants. “You feel so good.” as he says it, his fingers tease my entrance before sliding his middle finger and ring finger inside of me, with no hesitation, and starts to slowly thrust them inside of me.

I can only moan in response, clinging to his shoulders as to not have my knees buckle beneath me. He continues to whisper praises in my ear, encouraging me, his voice becoming strained as he has me writhing against him.

  “You’re going to make me cum just from moving against my fingers.” He says in my ear as the sensation from listening to him loose himself has me staggering on the edge. Groans and mumbles and moans keep spilling from him and his breathing becomes erratic and I can feel his stomach tensing against me.

He suddenly pulls his mouth away from my ear along with his fingers between my legs. I whine and Aemond just grins, raising his fingers up to his mouth before sliding them between his lips. Before I can say anything, he’s releasing his fingers and cradling my head again, walking us backwards. My legs hit the edge of the bed and Aemond continues to push me, gesturing for me to get on the bed.

I move back up the against the headboard, Aemond following close behind me. I try to get up on my knees on the bed, but Aemond shakes his head, lowering me back down softly. He begins peppering kisses down my body before he slowly drags me to the edge of the bed so half my body is hanging off and the other half is lying flat on the bed. I feel my heart slam against my rib cage as I push myself up on my elbows to watch him.

Aemond wraps his arms around the tops of my thighs, putting them up on top of his shoulders. I bite down on my lip to keep quiet, rolling my hips into his face. But he doesn’t give in and instead turns his head to kiss the inside of my thighs.

I whine, my head falling back. “Please.”

  “I will.” he says, slowly starting to lean in closer to me. His eye stays on mine, watching my every reaction, every emotion that crosses my face to make sure I’m still okay with everything before he’s sliding his fingers back through my folds and pushing his middle and ring finger inside of me.

My loud gasps turns to moans and my back is arching up, pushing my hips into him. My hands search for something to grip onto; resorting to Aemond’s hair and he grabs my hands with one of his, urging to pull harder. With a hum, Aemondis wrapping his lips around my clit and I’m unable to stay quiet. Aemond sucks my clit into his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to flick the nerves in an up and down motion before switching from left to right, continuing to thrust his fingers into me.

Aemond’s fingers dig into my thigh, moaning against me and the vibrations add extra stimulation to my clit. I start to feel a build-up in my stomach. The feeling in my stomach starts to make my legs shake on either side of Aemond’s head. My moans are echoing around the room, and they’re both sure the whole castle can hear me but neither of us care.

My legs are trembling, I have no control over them. I’m clenching around his fingers and I’m sensitive to every single touch he gives me. I’m going to tip over the edge and he knows it. I moan as shock waves of bliss race through me, my whole body tensing as my body feels the pleasure.

My moans fade into heavy breaths and Aemond removes his hands from my cunt as well as moving my legs off his shoulders. His hands are right back on the tops of my thighs, prying them apart. I roll my head back at the thought of another orgasm. “Aem-Aemond I can’t.”

  “Yes you can. Just one more.” He sounds drunk and gods I give in.

I nod. “Okay, just one more.”

His hands move to my face, cupping my cheeks. I look up at him with lustful eyes. He gets up on the bed, giving his knees a break from being bruised as he maneuvers himself and I to the middle of the bed. Aemond’s lips smash down onto mine but despite the haste, it’s quite gentle.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist.” he tells me, his hands slowly caressing my thighs as I do so. I dig my heels into Aemond’s lower back so he’s forced to press his erection against me. Aemond pulls away from me and swallows as he continues to rock his hips into me. “You still want me to do this?”

  “Yes.” I nod. He rocks his hips so the tip of his dick rubs against my clit. He strokes himself a few times before teasing me for a moment, dragging his fingers back through my cunt just to make sure I’m aroused enough. I’m sensitive that’s for sure as I shake as Aemond gently grazes my clit. He sucks his fingers clean before his face is above mine.

My legs are still wrapped around his hips as Aemond reaches down to take his cock into his hand- stifling a groan as he slowly pushes himself into me. Although the pleasure threatens to consume us both, he keeps his eye open to watch me as my face contorts into more pleasure than pain but I know he can still tell that the stretch still stings. Aemond gives me a moment, caressing my face, stomach, arms, and whispering praises in my ears as he waits for me to nod and tell him to keep going. Once I do, he’s pulling out before moving back in. He starts slowly, trying to keep himself composed enough to watch me.

I feel amazing though and I can’t help but close my eyes as Aemond constantly hits the right places. Gods he’s good at this. Aemond moans and drops his head to the crook of my neck before I tell him to pick up the pace. He gladly does so, not hesitating a bit and he sneaks his hand between our bodies, coming to end on my clit. I get louder as he begins to rub it in small circles with his thumb.

He kisses down my chest and my fingers dig into his biceps as he doesn’t slow down his movements. I clench around him and it has Aemond whining into my ear. “Aemond…I’m going to-”

  “I know. I feel you.” He rambles. He doesn’t stop though and I get louder. We’re both on the brinks of our own highs and Aemond presses his lips against mine. A couple more thrusts from Aemond and I moan into his mouth as I tremble, cumming. My orgasm triggers Aemond’s and he pulls out, spilling onto my stomach. We’re both panting unbelievably hard as Aemond moves his head lethargically to kiss me again.

Aemond recovers more quickly than I do and grabs his night shift from the floor and running it over my stomach and in-between my thighs as gently as he can, still making me jolt here and there.

Chapter Text

As I wake up the next morning, I stir slowly, my eyes fluttering open as the first golden rays of dawn filter through the ornate bedroom windows. With a content sigh, I reach out a hand, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of Aemond but the bed beside me is cold and empty. It hits me that his arms aren’t around me like they were last night.

Furrowing my brow, I sit up, the plush bedding pooling around my waist. “Aemond?” I call out softly, my gaze sweeping the dimly lit chamber. There’s no response, save for the gentle birdsong outside. I feel a flutter of unease in the pit of my stomach as I rise from the bed, wrapping the sheets around my frame. Where could he have gone so early?

As if on cue, the bedroom door creaks open, and my handmaidens fill in, their faces alight with the usual morning cheer.

“Good morning, my lady,” the eldest of the group greets me with a reverent curtsy. I’ve told her many times there’s no need for her to do so especially at her age. “I trust you slept well.”

I nod, offering her a polite smile as Diana takes the sheet from me. “I did, thank you. But…” I hesitate for a moment for some reason. “Have any of you seen Aemond this morning?”

The handmaidens exchange a brief glance, and one of the young women in the center speaks up. “His Grace is in his study, my lady. He requested that breakfast be brought to him there.”

I feel a faint prickle of confusion and embarrassment. It’s unlikely for Aemond to sequester himself away so early, especially without me by his side. A small part of me can’t help but wonder if I’ve done something to displease him. Possibly something last night.

  “I see,” I murmur, my brow furrowing slightly. “Thank you. I suppose I’ll go speak with him, then.”

My handmaidens nod and set about their usual tasks, gently guiding me towards the ornate dressing table. As they carefully arrange my hair and help me into a soft, flowing gown, I find myself lost in thought.

Is Aemond upset with me? Has something urgent arisen that required his immediate attention? The uncertainty gnaws at me, stirring a familiar anxiety that I have worked so hard to overcome.

Once I am properly attired, I dismiss the handmaidens with a grateful smile and I make my way down the winding corridors towards Aemond’s study. The heavy oak door looms before me, and I take a steadying breath before raising my hand to knock.

  “Come in,” comes Aemonds muffled voice, and I push the door open, stepping inside. My husband is seated at his ornate mahogany desk, a stack of parchments and ledgers spread out before him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and he looks up with a start as I approach. “Maella,” he says, his voice tinged with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

I feel a pang of hurt at his tone, but I push it aide, offering him a gentle smile. “You were gone when I awoke. Just wanted to know that you were alright.”

His expression softens for a moment but snaps back to his furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. “Forgive me but I simply had some urgent matters to attend to.”

There’s something in his voice, a faint tremor that sets my senses on edge. “Everything’s alright?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “Everything’s fine.” he’s short and I know that’s my cue to leave. I search his face, my eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. While I still don’t exactly like this arrangement and I don’t know him well, I know my husband enough to detect when he’s being less than truthful. And yet, I know that pushing him will only serve to further distance him from me.

With a soft sigh, I nod, offering him a gentle smile. “Very well.”

  “I’ll be eating up here.” he says, not even looking at me.

  “I know.” I murmur before exiting the study. As I make my way down to the dining hall, I can’t help but feel the lingering sense of unease. Aemond’s evasiveness, though subtle, has set my nerves on edge.

The sun has risen high in the cloudless azure sky after breakfast, bathing the lush gardens in a warm golden glow. I breath in the sweet fragrant air as I stroll along the winding pathways, my skirts rustling softly against the neatly trimmed hedges.

Despite the lingering unease that has settled in the pit of my stomach, I’m determined to push aside my worries and enjoy the tranquility of the moment. The vibrant blooms that flank the path seem to beckon me, their vivid hues and delicate petals capture my attention.

  “Miss!” I hear and turn around to see one of the servants from the kitchen running my way. I spot a thin letter in her hand and I make my way towards her. “For you, miss.” She says out of breath and outstretches her arm.

  “Thank you.” I mumble before looking at who sent it. There’s no name on it but I can tell who it is from the handwriting.

It’s my mother.

I give the maid a smile before she retreats. I don’t dare open the letter here. My fingers brush the crinkled parchment that lay nestled in my hand. My mother’s letter. The very sight of it causes a familiar flood of conflicting emotions to rise within me.

Rhaenyra. Even now, the mere mention of her name stirs up a whirlwind of resentment, hurt, and a desperate longing for the mother I still so dearly love. It has been months since I have last seen her, since Rhaenyra left me behind in the chaos of escaping King’s Landing, and the betrayal still burns fresh in my mind. I really don’t dare open the letter at all. What does she possible have to say? Sorry she left me here? I mean, I sacrificed myself but someone could’ve came back. My father at least. However I doubt he cares that much to volunteer himself.

I don’t want to care. I don’t. But I also want to know what she has written. I want to write back and ask how they are. How Lucerys and Jace are doing. How she’s doing after her miscarriage. I want to hug her, to comfort her. She shouldn’t have done that alone and I’m sure she had her handmaidens but still. I run my fingertips over the delicate scrawl of my name that adorns the envelope. Part of me yearns to tear it open, to drink in my mother’s words, to understand the reasons behind her abandonment. And yet, another part of me recoils at the very thought, determined to hold onto the righteous anger that has become my constant companion.

My steps slow as I approach a secluded alcove, its stone bench partially obscured by a curtain of wisteria. Sinking down onto the weathered surface, I stare at the letter, my brow furrowed in conflict. “Why, mother?” I murmur, my voice barely audible above the gentle rustling of the leaves. “Why did you leave me here, alone and afraid?”

The unanswered questions have haunted me, sleepless night filled with anguished tears and desperate pleas for understanding. I had been ripped away from my mother once more, again so cruelly that it has left an indelible mark on my heart.

With a frustrated huff, I shove the letter into a hidden pocket of my dress, my fingers trembling slightly. Not today. I refuse to open myself up to that kind of hurt, not when I’m still grappling with what has potentially happened to Aemond. Pushing myself to my feet, I steel my resolve, my chin lifting with defiance. I won’t let this weight me down. Aemondneeds me. Squaring my shoulders, I begin to make my way back towards the castle, my steps quickening with each passing moment. The library, I decide, will be my destination. The familiar comfort of the leather-bound volumes have been my safe haven, a place where I can escape the burdens of the world and loose myself in the boundless realms of imagination.

~~~!!~~~

The sun has long since dipped below the horizon, casting the opulent library in a warm, golden glow as the last vestiges of daylight filters through the towering windows. I sit curled in a plush armchair, my brow furrowed in concentration as I pore over the ancient tome cradled in my lap. Hours have slipped by unnoticed, the world beyond the library’s walls fading into the periphery as I loose myself in the boundless realms of knowledge that surrounds me. I have no doubt that my maids had dutifully searched for me with frantic worry, but I have remained here, ensconced in my corner, unwilling to be drawn back into the turmoil of the castle.

It is only the faint creak of the library door that finally pulls me from my reverie, my head snapping up as a familiar figure steps through the threshold.

  “Aemond, I breath, my voice barely above a whisper, a flush of guilt coloring my cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d find me here. Thought you’d still be in your study.”

Aemond’s brow is creased with concern as he approaches, his footsteps muffled by the carpets placed around on the floor. “I’ve been searching for you,” he says, his gaze sweeping over me. “Your maids are…quite beside themselves.”

  “Didn’t mean to scare them. Just thought I’d sharpen my mind. I didn’t think it would cause so much panic.”

  “You didn’t attend lunch or dinner.” He says, coming closer to me. “You must be hungry. I know I am.”

  “Did you not have lunch or dinner either?”

He just shakes his head. “I was worried.”

I chuckle, looking at him as he lowers himself to his knees. “I don’t think you’ve ever been worried about me.”

  “Maybe not.” His hand comes to pry the book out of my hand and toss it to the floor. His thumb grazes the back of my hand in a soothing caress. He then begins to push my dress up my legs, his hands moving up to my thighs.

  “Aemond.” I say in a warning sort of tone but also pushing my hips up from the chair so he can move my dress higher.

  “Hmm?” He hums, kissing the inside of my thigh and I moan.

  “What are you up to?” I whimper.

  “Eating.” He holds me with his thumb and index fingers and allowing his other fingers to run beneath the hem of my small clothes. “Don’t act like I’m the only one thinking about it.” He whispers back before my hand comes down on one of his.

  “I’m not saying you’re right,” I hum and pause to swallow a moan rising in my throat. “and I’m not saying you’re wrong.” a quiet whimper leaves my lips.

  “I’ve been thinking about something.” He murmurs and start to kiss down my neck. I grip on tighter to his hand on my hip when I decide to start to rock my hips back.

  “What about?”

  “How much I can make cum until you feel as though you’ll pass out. When I’m in my study all alone and I know you’re fast asleep, I imagine you in front of me, cuming over and over again, crying and begging for me to stop.”

My eyes widen ever so slightly and then Aemond begins to rock his hips against mine, cock rubbing against my cunt, and my eyes practically bulge out of my head. I roll my head back but he’s grabbing my face so I’m forced to look back at him. His fingertips begin to graze across my jaw and down my throat until he’s able to drag the top of my dress down a little.

Chapter Text

It was raining when I woke. Aemond was once again gone from beside me but it didn’t bother me much. I knew he must be in his study or something like that so I got dressed and decided to see where he was before I headed down to breakfast.

I knock on the door and I hear his smooth voice say ‘enter’. I see him standing before one of the study windows as I open the heavy wooden door and I think I see a ghost of a smile on his lips as he turns to look at who it is but I can’t be sure. “Good morning.” I greet as I stop in-front of his desk.

  “Good morning.” He repeats back before turning back to the window. I stand beside him, looking out a different window and we both just stand there before I break the silence with a cough in my throat.

  “Are you coming to break your fast?” I ask and I look at him as I say it. He doesn’t say anything as he turns and nods his head in the direction of the door.

  “Come on.” He mumbles. He almost takes my hand, I see it in the corner of my eye, before it forms into a fist and goes to the small of my back to guide me out of the room. “We have to visit Lord Borros today.”

~~~~~

The beautiful blue sky turned a yukish gray after breakfast commenced as we headed to Storm’s End. I took up room in the Library as Aemond went on his way to talk with Lord Borros. Aemond said he would be in later and so I made a spot for him on one of the couches in the library before calling for some hot tea and a few pieces of bread and butter to snack on.

In the quiet sanctum of the room, I got lost in the pages of a well-worn tome, my brow furrowing in contemplation. The soft scratch of my quill against parchment punctuates the tranquil silence that envelopes the room. Suddenly, the gentle rap of knuckles against the ornate wooden door shatter the spell, drawing my attention away from my scholarly pursuits. With a resigned sigh, I set aside my writing materials and rise from the bed.

  “Yes, come in,” I call out, smoothing a hand over the skirts of my clothes.

The door swings open, and Eliza, her expression one of joy, steps into the chamber. “Forgive the intrusion, my Queen,” she began, her voice tentative, “but there’s someone here who I thought you’d rather like to see.”

My brow arches in surprise. A visitor on a day like this? Curiosity piqued, I ask, “And who, pray tell, is here Eliza?”

The maid can barely get it out of her mouth fast enough before she spurts out “It’s your brother, your grace!”

My eyes widen, a flicker of confusion and concern crossing my features. Lucerys, here? An unexpected arrival to Storm’s End from my younger sibling is certainly a rare occurrence. “Lucerys?” I murmur, more to myself than Eliza. I set down my tea and my snack before brushing off the crumbs on my gown. I descend the grand staircase in a haste, my heart pounding in my chest, a symphony of questions and most important of all, the urge to sweep him into my arms.

Reaching the throne room, I pause for the briefest of moments, my hand hovering over the ornate handle of the door. With a steadying breath, I push it open, my gaze locking onto the imposing figure of my brother.

  “Lucerys!” I breath, a smile forming on my lips, interrupting whatever was going on. However I could care less. The second real smile I’ve produced here. Reaching him, I draw him into a warm embrace, my arms encircling with unbridled affection.

I feel him hug me back. “Sister?” He murmurs, his voice laced with weariness. “I’ve missed you. Why are you here?”

As I pull back, I study Lucerys’ face, my brow creasing with a slight frown. “I came with Aemond. Where’s mother?” I ask, looking around as though she will appear out of no where.

  “Your grace,” Lord Borros coughs and I turn around, smiling before I apologize for interrupting.

  “Come see me before you leave.” I whisper to him before I leave the room, closing the doors behind me.

40 or so minutes past before I realized that Lucerys must still be stuck with Lord Borros so I make my way from the library to the throne room once more, this time knocking on the heavy wooden doors. I knock once but nothing comes from the other side. I thought he must not have heard me so I knock again and yet again, nothing.

Just as I’m about to practically break down the door, a maid comes by with a fresh load of clean sheets, her head tilted in question.

  “Are you alright, princess?”

  “Yes, I’m..I’m fine.” I say. “I’m just wondering where my husband is. And my brother. And Lord Borros”

  “He’s outside, mistress. On his dragon. They both are. Lord Borros has gone for lunch.” She smiles before walking off towards a room. And that’s what she leaves me with as I go in search of my husband and brother who shouldn’t be out any way with the storm that’s currently brewing. Not to mention the fact that Aemond has completely forgotten about me.

  “I swear to the gods above.” I mumble, my fists clenching at my sides as I make my way out to my own dragon, ignoring the guards pleas for me not to, especially dressed in just my gown with no cap to cover me from the rain. “I think it would be easier to send you off so you can kill him.” I say to Lyrax as I climb up her side, settling myself into the saddle. “sōvegon lyrax” I whisper.

Rain falls around me, drenching my clothes and hair as the crack of thunder fills my ears. “Faster, Lyrax!” I yell. It’s not every day I chase my own husband like a child that won’t come in from playing. It’s not long before I start to shiver and breathing becomes harsher. I have no idea where he is, but I have a clue it has to be above this storm. “skoriot iksis ñuhabloody valzȳrys.” I mumble to myself. I rarely use Valyrian. It was hard enough to learn at the age of 10 let alone speak it. Not to mention, Sharis was not the best teacher as she didn’t even speak Valyrian herself.

It’s getting harder to see where I’m going, which is how I come to be in the middle of Vhagar going after a dragon. I tell Lyrax to dive before I can be burned by Aemond which is when I realize what color dragon Vhagar is chasing after.

It’s white.

It’s Lucerys.

Lucerys.

Aemond is going after my brother.

  “Lyrax, follow zirȳ!” I shout, my eyes wide with terror. Why? Why is he making Vhagar do this? I watch as Vhagar gets closer to Arrax, opening his large mouth before he nearly misses them all together. “Faster Lyrax!” I scream as thunder cracks above me. “Aemond stop please!” I say but it’s no use. He can’t hear me. “Lucerys!” it’s also a feeble attempt. I scream as Vhagar almost catches Arrax with his claws. He flies past me as I try to yell Lucerys’s name. I call to Lyraxover the rain still drenching me to fly towards where Vhagar is. The storm is loud and violent and I can barely hear myself think but I can hear Aemonds booming angry voice through it.

  “Ao byka nādrēsy māzigon arlī kesīr!” he shouts and Vhagar roars.

  “Aemond stop!” I yell. “You need to tell Vhagar to stop!”

Aemond turns his head back to me as the rain falls harder now, it’s getting hard to see him because of it and how high all three of us are. “jikagon arlī naejot se tistālion! bisa iksis rȳ nyke se aōha nādrēsy hen iā lēkia!”

I physically gasp at what he says and everything inside of me, every feeling I’ve ever had for him, it dissipates. I have the decision to shout at him again, telling him that I am his queen and he should listen to me but I know just because I am a Queen, it means nothing to him. It means less than nothing, truth be told. Aemond’s going to win whatever this game he’s playing is and I know I need to go after Lucerys myself before Vhagar can touch them both. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I yell to Lyrax “Find ñuha lēkia!”

  “Skoriot se bloody nopāzma issi ao jāre? Nyke ordered ao naejot jikagon arlī naejot se tistālion!” He shouts but I ignore him and focus on getting to my brother first. I can hear Aemond shout my name as Lyrax passes Vhagar overhead and again, I stare stone-faced into the storm. I know he’s hating me, I know he hates that I’ve gotten in the middle of his revenge.

  “Lucerys!” I scream, looking all over for my brother. I don’t know what has happened, I don’t know if he has been hurt or Arrax, I don’t know anything and my breathing becomes rapid as I think about the things that might have gone wrong. “Brother! Luke!” I call out again and Lyrax roars in concern as well.

I get cut off from them by a rock that makes itself known as I fly lower. I nearly escape it just as to see Lucerys and Arraxappear from wherever they were hiding. I watch up above as Aemond has the audacity to laugh as my brother’s fear and his dragons and it takes everything inside of me to not pluck out his other good eye. My fingers grip onto Lyrax’s saddle tightly as I try to hold myself back from snapping. “Lucerys!” I call out as I see them come into view, watching as Arraxspits fire at Vhagar and Aemond. “Eglikta lyrax!” I scream to my own dragon.

I look down to see Aemond trying to take hold of Vhagar, screaming no at her as he pulls viciously on her reigns. I look with horror then my eyes move to Lucerys before screaming, “Go!” as I follow behind him, higher above the storm clouds. As we reach the clearing, we both scan around for Vhagar, not seeing her above or below us. I go to take a deep relieving breath before my eyes catch movement in the distance. “No!” I scream as I try to push Lyrax into Arrax to get him to move.

…But I’m too late.

My eyes widen in horror as Vhagar pulls Arrax apart and with him Luke and makes me in return fall from my saddle as she eats Lyrax too, and I can do nothing but plummet to the water below, hoping it kills me on impact as limbs of my brother and his dragon fall with me into the sea.

Chapter Text

I’m a child again, hiding in the corner of the Matrons building, away from everyone as they seek for me. What I didn’t know is that the children were planning it and when they find me, and it’s my turn to be seeker, they will grab hold of me and shove me in a closet. It’s dark. I’ve never liked the dark. I’ve never liked many things. When I bang on the doors for them to let me out, and my mouth opens in a scream, instead of letting out words, I suck in water.

That’s when it all comes back to me. When my eyes fly open and I’m quick to recognize the familiar furniture and walls of my bedroom back at King’s Landing.

  “No, no, no, no.” I mumble, getting out of bed but I crumple to the ground, pain moving through my body. I can’t tell if it’s because of how I flung myself from my dragon into the sea thirty feet below or something else. The door opens, and Diana comes in, helping me back to my feet.

  “Princess, you need to stay in bed. You’ve been injured.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her worriedly.

  “You don’t need to worry about that right now, Maella. Just get back in bed-”

  “Stop!” I yell, making Diana’s movements halt completely. I walk myself over to my mirror, slowly and wincing with each step. I raise my arms up to take my nightshirt from the neck and hoist it over my head. I turn to the side, looking at my reflection. I gasp. Multiple patches of bloody cloth make their way up my body starting from my right thigh up my side to the right side of my breast. “What?” I ask myself, completely taken aback. “What happened?” I ask, turning to Diana.

  “When you fell, Vhagar got a hold of you too.” She says.

I look back at the mirror and the bandages. Tears form in my eyes before I push them away, pushing my sadness deep down before my face turns to pure anger. “Where is Aemond?” Not ‘where’s my husband?’ not ‘where’s my king?’ simply Aemond. “Where is he?!”

  “I-I don’t know, your grace.”

I pick up my nightshift from the floor and pull it back over myself before making my way as fast as I can out my chambers, Diana trailing behind me if I fall. I hold the wall for support as I walk through the halls, knights bowing to me as I pass. “Aemond!” I practically roar, my voice echoing off the walls as others sleep. I shuffle my way to his study, throwing open the doors. I don’t know how I’m doing this, walking. I should be falling over. I think its the pure hatred and adrenaline that is coursing through me.

I don’t know why I thought he was there but he is, sitting in his chair as he looks at the fire in front of him in his fireplace.

  “You stupid stupid stupid son of a bitch!” I say, grimacing as I make my way to him. He looks over his shoulder at me, then looks back to the fire like I was a gust of wind just passing through. “Look. At. Me.” I command him, taking a step closer with every word. He finally does, standing and turning to look at his wounded wife. I think there’s something in his eye because it’s watered and I doubt he was crying over my brother. He killed him. Why would he be sorry. “Why?” I ask him.

He says nothing.

  “Why?” I ask again, tears brimming.

  “I-.” He goes to speak but I cut him off.

My mouth makes the words before I can snatch them back. “There’s something wrong with you.” Everything is awful. He was supposed to be the one good thing here. I take a step backwards, bumping into his desk. He gives me an incredulous look. “I should have seen it coming.” I walk closer to him. “I should’ve known.” I say, tears brimming. “You should’ve killed me.” I say before moving to push him. “You should’ve killed me too so I wouldn’t live to see this.” I hit my fists against his chest. “You lied. You lied, you lied, you lied.” My fists bang with each word. I think I’ve ripped my stitches. I fall to my knees. My legs collapse underneath me. Aemonds hands go to my arms to help me gently to the floor. “You promised me that you loved me! You promised me.” I cry. “You’re a liar! You’re a liar, Aemond Targaryen.”

My leg is wet with blood. I’m bleeding out. I hope he brings out his sword and stabs through my heart. I feel Diana’s hands on me, trying to haul me up. I try to push his hands off of me, each move making my side scream in pain. Knights must’ve heard my screaming as some of them rush into the room. I must be quite a sight, blood-soaked nightdress with my husband standing over me trying to help me as I actively fight against him, ripping my stitches more. A bout of dizziness overcomes me. I stop for a moment.

  “Maella,” Diana’s voice comes from close by. “Maella you have to let us help you. Stay with me.”

I must have looked as though I was going to faint. “I’m with you.” Aemond’s hands are still on me as I make for her hand.

  “Let me take you to the maester.” Aemond says. “You’re dying.”

I shake my head. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  “He has to, Maella. Come on.” Diana says to me. She sounds a little like she’s begging.

My side is on fire. “Sew me up,” I say, trying to shake off the creeping lethargy. “Sew me up right here.”

  “She’s bleeding,” says Diana. I think she’s talking to Aemond. “A lot.”

I am struck will a dull certainty that if I don’t do something now, nothing will be left to do. Aemond is right. I will die here, in his study, in front of knights and my maid. I will die here and my mother will lose two children. “Fine.” I ground out. “Take me to the maesters.”

I can do nothing but hope as Aemond picks me up and begins practically running to the maesters chambers with his knights and Diana behind him. I wince as he hurries, bouncing in his arms. He looks wild-eyed. It seems like only a few moments before we reach the maester. Aemond doesn’t knock, he just kicks the door open and the maester wakes abruptly as Aemond lies me on the table in the maesters room. I lie down on it and try not to wince as Aemond rips my nightgown to expose my side. I hear someone draw a sharp breath. I look up to the ceiling and wonder if anyone has told my mother, or Jace, what has happened to me. What has happened to Luke and if they told them it was all my husbands fault. I recall the taste of Aemond’s lips pressed against my mouth as fresh pain blooms at my side and I cry out before biting back a scream and then another as the needle digs into the wound. The glow of torches move on the ceiling overhead.

  “Maella?” Diana’s voice sounds like she’s trying to fight back tears. “You’re going to be okay, Maella.”

  “Not…” I get the word out. I make myself smile before continuing. “worried.”

  “Oh, Maella,” she says. I feel a hand against my brow. It’s so warm, which makes me think I must be very cold. “Just a little longer.”

My skin has the sensation of being stung all over with nettles, the fresh, hot pain still there. I can’t move. I look down at the wooden table. It’s soaked with blood. Way more blood than I am ready to believe is from me. I don’t know where Aemond is. I don’t know if he’s still here or he left already. I hope he has left. Trying to fight him has caused this and it’s embarrassing.

But I also want him to see me like this. I want him to see me suffering. That also fighting him head on has caused this. It goes to show that no matter how confident I am in my abilities to be a strong ruler, he will always best me.

  “Your grace,” Diana says, her voice wavering. “Your wounds are closed. How are you feeling?”

I still feel awful. I feel sweat-ridden and weak. “Take me back.” I tell her, sitting myself up but I am immediately pushed back down by the maester who holds a cup in front of me.

  “Drink.” is all he says and I don’t even bother asking him what it is. I am far beyond that. I just watch him bring the cup to my mouth and I take a big swallow of it. As I sit up some so I don’t choke, I catch Aemond in the doorway, standing, hand on the hilt of his sword as he watches me. My eyes connect with his before they glower at him. I want him to feel my pain, I want him to feel my anguish.

I want him to know that by killing my brother, he just became the smallest man who ever lived.

Chapter Text

The sky is warm as I wake. My eyes flutter open, the familiar surroundings of my bedchamber slowly come into focus. When I shift my weight, my side hurts. I feel the stitches holding me together as though I am a rag doll with stuffing trying to leak out. I wince as I begin to sit up, hauling myself against the headboard and groaning as my mind racing as the events of the past days come flooding back. The clash of dragon claws, the cries of names and High Valyrian, the feeling of anguish and fear- it had all been a blur of chaos and bloodshed, and the memory of it still sends a shiver down my spine.

I close my eyes, willing my racing heart to slow as I take a deep breath, steadying breath. The sound of a soft shuffle near the doorway suddenly catches my attention, and my eyes snap open. Turning my head, and my breath catches in my throat as I recognize the curious faces of my young niece and nephew peeking cautiously into the room.

  “Jaehaerys? Jaehaera?” I call to them, my voice raspy with disuse. They slowly enter the room with caution, hands behind their backs. “What are you two doing here?” I ask them, my hands coming to fold themselves in my lap. Jaehaera’s arms come out from behind her and there’s a beautiful little red flower clutched carefully in her small hands. “Beautiful flower. But that did not answer my question.” I tell them both before I pat the bed for them to get up on. They happily hope up onto the mattress before fighting of who gets to sit in my lap first.

Jaehaera reaches out her arm, gifting me the flower. “For you.”

I take the flower from her hand. “For me? Thank you.” I kiss her forehead as she comes to sit beside me and Jaehaerysdoes the same. “Where are your nannies? Or your mother?”

  “Mother said we could come see you. The flower is to make you feel better.”

I muster a weak smile, touched by her gentle compassion. “Thank you, poppet,” I tell her as I kiss the top of her head. “That’s very kind of you, sweet girl.”

Jaehaera carefully places the bloom on the beside table, her gaze fitting nervously between me and the bandages she can see that are wrapped around my torso up to my chest. Jaehaerys, ever the brave one, moves closer, his brow furrowed.

  “Are you in pain? Our nannies said you were hurt, but that you would feel better soon.”

I reach out and gently ruffle his long hair, offering him a reassuring smile. “I am, however your mother is right, I will be okay.” The young boy nods, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Jaehaera, emboldened by her brother’s example, traces her little finger on the intricate embroidery on the bed covers.

  “When will you be able to play with us again?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

My heart swells with affection for my niece and nephew. “Soon, my darling. I promise.” I wince as another twinge of pain shoots through my side, and their faces immediately fall with worry.

  “Do you need more sleep?” Jaehaerys asks, his brow creasing with concern.

I muster a reassuring smile. “I have rested enough for today. Now, why don’t you tell me about your day? I would love to hear all about it.” they both launch into an animated retelling of their adventures and what they’ve learned. For now, I allow myself to be swept up in the innocent wonder and boundless energy of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, their laughter and stories a much-needed reprieve from the heavy burden of my thoughts. In their company, I can almost forget the pain that had brought me to this point.

As the children’s tales come to an end, I reach out and pull them both into a gentle embrace, ignoring the protests of my aching body. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera return the embrace, their small arms wrapping around me with a tenderness that belies their youth. Reluctantly, I pull back, offering them a smile.

  “Now, run along and tell your mother that I am forever grateful for your visit.” They both nod and they scurry out of the room, their laughter echoing in the hallway. I watch them go before sinking back against the pillows, my eyes falling upon the vibrant red bloom that Jaehaera had so carefully placed on the table. I reach out to gently caress the delicate petals before closing my eyes.

!!!~~~!!!

The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the walls of my bedchamber as I lay awake, my mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. Try as I might, sleep continues to elude me, the weight of my grief and the ache of my heart proving too heavy a burden to bear.

My gaze drifts to the window, where the ships come and leave, a constant reminder of the family I have been torn from. My heart yearns to be at Dragonstone, to grieve the loss of my brother alongside those who truly understand the depth of my sorrow. The mere thought of Lucerys, his warm smile and infectious laughter, sends a fresh wave of anguish crashing over me. I can still see his face, feel the tender embrace of his arms, hear the soothing cadence of his voice. And the knowledge that I will never experience those simple joys again is a wound that refuses to heal.

I sigh heavily, my fingers tracing the delicate embroidery of the bed covers as I try to find solace in the familiar patterns. How I wish I could return to those carefree days, when the only thing that matters is spending time with my beloved siblings and my grieving mother, free from the shackles of war and the weight of duty.

But those days are long gone, lost to the ravages of a conflict that threatens to tear our family apart. Lucerys had paid the ultimate price, his life sacrificed to the insatiable hunger for vengeance that had consumed Aemond. I can’t help but wonder what he would think of the state of our family now, torn asunder by bitter rivalries and thirst for power.

The soft creak of the door draws my attention, and I turn to see Aemond entering the room, his single eye fixing upon me with an unreadable expression.

  “You’re still awake.” he observes, his voice a whisper. I sit up, the bed covers pooling in my lap as I meet my husband’s gaze, my own eyes narrowing with barely-contained emotion.

  “I can’t sleep.” I reply, my tone clipped and distant.

Aemond moves closer, his footsteps echoing in the sillness of the chamber. “Thinking about Lucerys, I suppose.” he says, the faintest hint of an edge creeping into his voice.

I feel a familiar ache in my chest, a tightness that threatens to steal the very breath from my lungs. “Yes. Of course I am.” I admit, my voice thick with emotion.

Aemond’s jaw tightens, and I know that he senses the unspoken accusation in my words. “I did what I had to do,” he says, his voice tinged with a defensive edge. “Lucerys made his choice, and he paid the price.”

I feel a flare of white-hot anger surge within me, my hands clenching the bed covers in a white-knuckled grip. “He was my brother, Aemond. Your own flesh and blood. How can you speak of him and what you did so callously?”

Aemond’s expression darkens, a shadow crossing his features. “I do not answer to you, wife. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken my eye.”

I stare at him in disbelief, my heart hammering in my chest as the full weight of his words settle upon her. “Is that how you see it? That Lucerys’ life was nothing more than a casualty of your ambition?”

Aemond’s eyes narrow, his gaze hardening. “if you’ve come to lecture me, then save your breath. I will not be made to feel remorse for doing what was necessary.”

I shake my head, my eyes glistening with unshod tears. “Sometimes, I wonder if you have any heart at all, Aemond. Lucerys was your kin, and you killed him without a second thought.”

Aemond’s expression darkens further, his jaw clenching with barely-contained emotion. “Perhaps it is best if you go to Dragonstone then. Piss off across the sea and be with the rest of your traitorous family.”

I feel the sting of his words, a flash of hurt and betrayal igniting within me. But in that moment, my grief and my anger overrides any sense of caution or restraint. “Perhaps I will,” I retort, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “At lest there, I will be with those who truly understand the meaning of family.”

Without another word, I rise from the bed, my movements swift and resolute despite the ache. I know what I have to do, even if the path ahead is shrouded in uncertainty. I need to be with my family, to mourn Lucerys properly, and to find solace that eludes me here, in the shadow of Aemond’s unyielding indifference.

As I stride towards the door, I feel a surge of determination settle over me. No longer will I remain trapped in the confines of a family torn asunder by war and vengeance. Stepping out into the cool night air, I make my way to the dragon pits, my steps quickening with every passing moment. The distant roars of the magnificent beasts echo through the stillness, a siren’s call that beckons me towards.

As I near the pits, my gaze falls upon the formidable form of my dragon, Lyrax, the massive creature’s eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Without hesitation, I approach, my hand reaching out to gently caress the dragon’s snout, an unspoken bond passing between us.

I step back a little, still in my nightdress. It billows as Lyrax exhales and my hair sweeps up around my shoulders. Now thinking about it, I do not think I can go back there, to face my mother and tell her how I tried, how I really and truly tried to help Lucerys live, how I wanted to sacrifice myself instead.

Lyrax picks up her head, silently asking what I am doing. I look at her, tears streaming down my face as I mutter the word.

  “Dracarys, Lyrax.”

Chapter Text

Her mouth lights a spark, but nothing more.

  “Dracarys!” I yell again, with more force. She just makes a small noise, her head falling back onto the sand below her. She does not do as she is told but I cannot blame her. My head falls, chin to chest, as I sink to the ground. After a moment I lift up my head, looking at her. I press my forehead against her snout, my chin trembling. I sniffle before wiping my tears. I will have to leave like this, in my nightdress and nothing else. “Let’s go.” I whisper, before standing and leading her out of the Dragon pit, saddling her.

She knows what I want, I do not have to tell her to fly or to go faster. I look at the Red Keep from behind me, the tears in my eyes making it blurry. The orange glow of the candles get smaller and smaller and soon it disappears from sight. I’m cold and I can feel the skin of my hands cracking as they become dry.

I did not think this through. I did not think anything through as I stormed out of our chamber. I left everything. And most of all I left my throne. Mother will be furious. However right now I do not care.

It is a long flight to Dragon stone. I had to study maps while under the apprenticeship at Pentos. That is the only way I know where I am going. That and the stars above me. I have finally escaped the suffocating confines of the Red Keep and it took my brother’s death to do it.

The cold night air whips through my hair, and I clutch the reins with a white-knuckled grip, my nightdress billowing behind me like a ghostly apparition. I know that my hasty departure will surely raise questions, but in this moment, I can’t bring myself to care.

As the miles stretch on, I feel the exhaustion begin to seep into my bones, but I refuse to slow. I press on, Lyrax's wings so silent in the air as I make my way towards home. The towering silhouette of the ancient fortress soon comes into view, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. It had taken me half the night and early morning to get here. I am blinded by the sunlight that rises over clouds.

With trembling hands, I guide Lyrax down towards the gates, the loyal beast sensing my distress and slowing her pace. As I dismount, I feel a wave of dizziness wash over me, the weight of my grief and the exhaustion of not sleeping in days finally catching up to me.

Stumbling forward, I make my way towards the grand entrance, my nightdress clinging to my frame and my bare feet leaving a trail of dust in my wake. The few servants I encounter along the way stare at me in stunned silence, their expressions a mixture of concern and confusion.

But I pay them no heed, my sole focus on finding my mother and siblings. I notify one of the knights that I would like to see them, not caring if they are asleep or not. A maid leads me to a room filled with couches and chairs and a fireplace that crackles every once and a while. I pick at the skin around my nails before I switch to biting the skin of my bottom lip off as I anticipate the doors to open and to finally see them again.

  “Maella?” My mother’s worried voice comes from the halls before the doors open. I turn around, seeing her. Her arms outstretch for me, her chin trembling as mine does the same.

  “Momma.” I say, reaching the safety of her arms and I feel the vestiges of my strength abandon me, and we both sink to the floor, my body wracking with anguished sobs. The tears I have held at bay all the way here for so long now flow freely, a torrent of grief and despair.

Curled up in her arms, I allow myself to succumb to the sheer weight of our loss, my cries echoing through the silent halls of Dragonstone. I had come to seek solace, but in the end, all I can see is the crushing realization that my beloved brother is gone, forever beyond my reach.

Time seems to loose all meaning as I weep, the ache in my heart a constant companion that refuses to be silenced.

~~~

The soft light of dawn filters through the windows of my bedchamber, casting a warm glow across the ornately carved furniture and the plush bedding that envelopes my weary form. Yet, despite the comforting familiarity of my surroundings, I feel nothing but a profound sense of emptiness.

I lay there, unmoving, my eyes fixed upon the plain stone wall before me, my mind an endless loop of memories and regrets. The events of the past few days play out in my minds eye, the brutal murder of my brother searing into my consciousness like a glaring brand.

My lips part, a soft shuddering breath escaping me as I drift further into the depths of my grief. I have felt the Red Keep in a haze of despair, my only goal to escape the suffocation. And now, safely ensconced within the walls of Dragonstone, I find no solace.

The sound of the chamber door creaking open barely registers in my consciousness, my focus unwavering as a soft voice reaches my ears.

  “My lady?” the maid murmurs, her tone laced with a hint of concern. “We’ve prepared a light meal for you, if you’re feeling hungry.”

My gaze remains fixed on the wall, my lips pressed into a thin, impassive line. The very thought of food seems abhorrent, my appetite replaced by a yawning chasm of hollowness.

  “My lady?” the maid presses, her footsteps drawing closer to the bed. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Again, I offer no response, my eyes unblinking as I continue to stare into the distance. The maid hesitates, her brow furrowing with worry, before slowly backing out of the room, the soft click of the door signaling her retreat.

The silence that follows is deafening, the only sound the faint rustling of the bedding as I shift slightly, my limbs feeling heavy. Time seems to go by slowly as I lay there, my mind adrift in a sea of anguish and regret. I had been powerless to stop Lucerys’ death, my cries for justice falling on deaf ears.

A soft knock at the door breaks the stillness, and I turn my head slightly, my heart sinking as the familiar figure of my younger brother comes into view.

Joffrey.

  “Maella?” the boy asks, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and confusion. “I…mother said you came back last night. Are you alright.”

I gaze flickers briefly to my brother’s face, the pain in his eyes a reflection of my own. But I can’t muster words, no comfort to offer him. Instead, I simply turn my head, my eyes once more fixed upon the wall, the overwhelming grief threatening to swallow me whole.

Joffrey hesitates, his small hands gripping the edge of the bed as he looks upon me with a mixture of worry and uncertainty. “Maella, please…wont you at least talk to me?” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper.

But I remain steadfast in my silence, my body curled into a protective embrace as I retreat further into the solace of my own grief. The world beyond the confines of my bedchamber seem to fade into a distant, inconsequential blur, my entire focus consumed by the ache in my heart.

Joffrey lingers for a moment more, his expression crestfallen, before slowly backing out of the room, his footsteps echoing a sense of profound defeat. Once more, the silence envelopes me, a suffocating blanket that seems to sap the very last vestiges of my strength.

Slowly, I shift, my body aching with the strain of remaining motionless for so long. With a weary sigh, I push myself up, my eyes drifting towards the ornate mirror that stands against the far wall. The reflection that gazes back at me is a far cry from the vibrant, determined young woman I had once been. My eyes are red-rimmed and hollow, the light in them extinguished. My once-radiant skin has taken on a pallid hue, sorrow etching itself into the very lines of my face.

I stare at the image, a bitter sense of recognition washing over me. This is not the woman I had aspired to be, the one who would fight alongside my family to secure the future we had so desperately sought. No, this is a broken shell, a mere echo of the person I had once been.

With a shuddering breath, I turn away, my gaze once more drifting towards the unforgiving stone wall. I know that I can not remain in this state of isolation forever, that eventually, I will have to face the world and the consequences of my hasty actions. But for now, I am just Maella. A princess. Mourning the loss of her younger brother. My days pass in a monotonous cycle, my waking hours spent alternating between baths and the solitary confines of my bed. The maids would come and go, their gentle entreaties for me to eat or to venture outside falling short. And through it all, Joffreywould make his periodic visits, his voice laced with a heartbreaking mixture of concern and desperation.

Mother had found traces of Luke that washed up on the beaches of Dragonstone. Luke’s cape and clothes and a wing of his dragon.

Now there were two mothers mourning the loss of their son. I thought to myself.

He told me Jace had come back from Winterfell to completely break upon hearing of Luke.

And one day Joffrey visited no more. And neither did the maids really. For days I had been consumed by sadness, my days an endless cycle of listless melancholy and hollow solitude.

But this morn, something had shifted within me. As my eyes flutter open, I feel a stirring deep within my core, a flickering ember of emotion that has long been smothered by the suffocating embrace of sorrow but is now making it’s way through me.

Slowly, I push myself upright, my movements fluid and purposeful, a stark contrast to the lethargic haze that had permeated my very being. Gone was the vacant, haunted gaze that had so often reflected back at me from the mirror, replaced by a burning intensity that seems to blaze from within.

My hands tremble slightly as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet coming to rest upon the cool, polished stone floor. I can feel the familiar ache in my heart still, the lingering sorrow that has become a constant companion. But this time, it is tempered by a burgeoning wave of raw, unadulterated fury.

Aemond has taken so much from me and in this moment I can no longer allow myself to be overtaken and struck down by Lucerys’ death. Not when there is a reckoning to be had. With a steedy determination, I rise to my feet, my nightdress flowing around me like it did on the night I left. I cross my chamber and reach my wardrobe that stands next to the mirror.

My fingers trace the intricate carvings of the oak doors, a small, mirthless smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Gone are the days of my listless solitude, the mournful resignation. As I rifle through the carefully curated gowns, my gaze settles upon a deep, rich crimson- the color of my house, the hue of my ancestors’ sigil. With a decisive nod, I withdraw the garment, the fabric flowing through my fingers like liquid fire.

Dressing swiftly, I feel a sense of renewed purpose coursing through me. The familiar weight of the fabric, the confident set of my shoulders, all serve to reaffirm my determination. I am a Targaryen. A descendant of dragons. I will not be cowed by the cruelty of my own kin.

Smoothing a hand over the intricate embroidery that adorns the bodice of my gown, I feel a surge of confidence course through my veins. However first, there is something I want to see.

Joffrey.

With a steadying breath, I sweep out of my chambers, my crimson gown billowing behind me as I make my way through the winding corridors of Dragonstone. The familiar sights and sounds of the ancient fortress seem to wash over me, a comforting embrace that serves to bolster my resolve.

As I step out into the lush gardens, the warm cress of the sun’s rays envelope me. I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure in the distance. Joffrey. He's seated amidst the vibrant blooms, his small hands grasping a collection of intricately carved wooden toys.

I hesitate for a moment, a pang of guilt and regret flowing through me. I had all but abandoned him in the wake of Lucerys, my own regrets blinding me to the needs of my family. Steeling my nerves, I approach, my footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath my feet. Joffrey’s head snaps up at me, his expression a mixture of wariness and cautious hope.

  “Maella?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared that my presence is merely a figment of his imagination. I offer him a small, tentative smile, my heart clenching at the sight of the lingering hurt in his eyes.

  “Joffrey,” I murmur, my voice tinged with a softness that belied the fire that burned within me. “I’m sorry.”

Joffrey’s brow furrows, his hands tightening around the wooden figure he holds. “You ignored me,” he accuses, his little voice so full of hurt that I know I have no right to assuage. “You were there but…you were not.”

I nod, my gaze dropping to the ground as I grapple with the weight of my actions. “I know,” I admit, my voice soft. “I should not have ignored you.”

Joffrey studies me for a moment, his eyes searching my face as if seeking the truth of my words. I hold his gaze, my own expression open and sincere, a silent plea for his forgiveness. I do not want to lose another brother.

After what feels like an eternity, his shoulders slump, and he nods slowly. “I’m glad you came back.” he murmurs.

I feel a surge of emotion swell within me, and before I can stop myself, I had crossed the distance between them, enveloping him in a fierce embrace. He stiffens for a moment, his wooden toys clattering to the ground, before finally melting into my hold.

  “I’m so sorry, Joffrey,” I whisper, my fingers carding through his dark curls. “I promise, I will never abandon you again. Not for anything.”

Joffrey says nothing, his small arms wrapping around my neck as he clings to me, the remnants of his resentment slowly dissolving in the face of my unwavering affection. I hold him close, my heart aching with the realization of how much time I had lost, how many precious moments I had forfeited. Gently, I pull away, my hands cupping his face as I search his eyes. “I’m better now, I promise. And I promise I will never get like that again.”

Joffrey’s lips curve into a tentative smile, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me. I am truthful, I will never get like that again because it’s not sadness I feel. It’s deep rooted unadulterated disgust.

So I will never be like that again.

I will be worse. I am worse.

I am made of sisterly rage. It stains my bones and soul like a pomegranate. It curls its way through my veins like a dragon.

My devotion to my family has turned violent.

Chapter Text

We found his robes the next day. Lucerys’.

I watched mother sink to her knees on the sand as Syrax let out a strangled cry of her own grief. I sink down beside her, cradling her as she cries and claws at the fabric of his shredded clothes and the wing of his dragon. I don’t let it heard but I sob with her, silently albeit, burying my face in her hair and letting my body shake with cries.

The war had been started over a misunderstanding.

That is what was said in Alicent's letter telling my mother how sorrowful she was that Lucerys had died. She did not mention how it was at the hands of her own, older son and his dragon.

So as I stand in the Council room, looking at my mother with her blotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes that I think will permanently stay like that, and she asks for Aemond. That she wants Aemond Targaryen, I am the first to offer my services.

  “Mother, let me go.” I ask her, hand on the hilt of my sword.

She doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t said anything for the past few days. Not when Jacaerys returned home from the North. Not when Daemon has tried to get her to speak. It has been silent. And now it makes it feels as thought more than my brother has died. I want her to nod. It does not even have to be a full nod, just a slight one. A curt one. Or a flick of her hand.

Just something.

  “Mother, please.” I say, a whisper. She looks at me, her eyes finally flickering from the fire to my face before she sweeps out of the room, leaving everyone standing in silence. I look at Daemon, then Rhaena before looking back at the door that has left been open by her exit. Then everyone turns to me. “What?”

I ask and Daemon leans in. “What do you want us to do?”

  “You are King Consort!” I fire back at him.

  “You are Queen of King’s Landing.” Rhaena comments and it comes flooding back. That’s right. Until my mother takes the Throne I am still Queen of King’s Landing. Fuck.I flick between Rhaena and Daemon before moving to the head of the Council table. They all turn to me, and I begin to falter but I take a deep breath.

  “Like our grace said, I want Aemond Targaryen.” I say. I should know how to do this, how to talk to people. How to talk to a Council. “I want him to pay for my brothers death.” Remembering that night and how I watched it happen, the anger stirs right back up inside me. “And he will pay.” I declare, my voice steady but fierce. “I will take care of him myself.”

Daemon leans forward, concern etched on his face. “You cannot just take care of him yourself.”

I meet his gaze, unyielding. “I appreciate your concern, father. But I will handle this. I’m taking Lyrax.” I say to them all before following in my mothers path, turning on my heel and striding out of the chamber, each step resonating.

As I descend the staircase toward the dragon pits, the weight of my decision pressing heavily on me. The air is thick with the scent of earth and fire, the distant sounds of dragons echoing in my ears. Suddenly, a voice calls out, slicing through my thoughts. 

  “Maella!”

I pause, turning to see Rhaena rushing toward me, urgency in her stride. “What are you doing?” I ask, my tone edged with impatience. “If father sent you here you cannot change my mind either. I want to take care of my husband alone.”

Rhaena haults before me, breathless but resolute. “I do not want to change your mind. I only want to tell you to be safe.”

A flicker of warmth crosses my heart, but I harden. “I will be safe when I have my vengeance,” I reply, my eyes narrowing. I turn to continue walking but she calls my name again and I turn around once more.

I have never really known Rhaena. I have never known Baela either. I had been married to Aemond and shipped off to the Red Keep before I even knew I had half-sisters or cousins or whatever they are to me. I do not even known how to talk to them without feeling awkward or out of place or as though I am trying to hard. So we stand looking at each other on the stairs to the Dragon pit, not knowing what to do or say.

Until we both surge forward and embrace each other, my arms encircling her.

  “I love you, sister.” she says.

  “I love you too. And Baela. I will be back, I promise.” We break apart but I keep my eyes on hers. “You will get your dragon, Rhaena.” I blurt it out, not even on topic with the conversation but I want her to hear it if I do not come back. One thing I know about her is that she is the only one of us who does not have a dragon. Aemond took it from her, another reason why I dislike him. Vaghar was not his to claim. It was hers. “And I will be the first one to clap for you when you come around on Dragonback. I will clap so loud you will be able to hear it all the way above the clouds.” I hug her one last time before I turn and make my way down the rest of the steps.

The heat envelopes me like a shroud. The sight of Lyrax calms my racing heart. As I approach her, I can feel the connection between us, a bond forged through fire and flight. “Emi mirre naejot gaomagon.” I whisper, running my fingers along her snout. She stirs, sensing my urgency and I climb onto her back, feeling the familiar thrill of power coursing through my veins. Lyrax roams out of the Dragonpit before she takes to the skies, soaring over the castle, the wind whipping through my hair.

I push her to fly faster, higher, until the landscape below blurs into a tapestry of greens and browns. I look back over my shoulder, watching the castle disappear and I push down the nerves that bubble up. What if Aemond is prepared? What if he does kill me and my mother looses another child far too soon again? I shake my head, refusing to entertain the thoughts. I had made my choice, and I will see it through.

I have to.

Lyrax slows and I realize she knows that the Red Keep is close. “Ilagon, lyrax.” I tell her, and she descends instantly. She’s silent, the only sound coming from her are the beating of her wings. She settles on the grass and I dismount from her back, telling her I will be back and rubbing her snout before I begin to walk towards the castle. In the corner of my eye I catch the glowing lanterns on rowboats that bump up onto the sand. I watch as the cloaked figure steps out and hands the person a couple coins.

The salty breeze tousles my hair as I gaze out at the sea. I shake my head, remembering why I am here and it is not to watch people row someone across the sea. I enter through the maids quarters, knowing at least half of them are asleep now and the other half finishing up last minute tasks. I swiftly move through the castle’s shadows, the candles on the walls casting shadows that dance ominously around me.

I would be lying if I didn’t say my heart is racing with adrenaline and fear. I feel alone in a way I hadn’t anticipated, the weight of my decision settling heavily on my shoulders. I hesitate for a moment, the enormity of my task crashing over me like a wave. But I cannot back down now.

With a deep breath, I step forward, the guards at the entrance eyeing me with suspicion before they realize who I am. “I seek my husband.” I declare, the sound of my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

  “Right this way, your grace.” One of them says, stepping forward. I follow behind him, hoping he cannot hear the knife that rattles around in the sleeve of my boot. The air feels charged with tension, each step echoing through the silent halls.

But as I approach Aemond's chambers, and once mine, doubt flickers in my mind again. What if he refuses to face me? What if he laughs at my anger? It seems like a very Aemond thing to do. To laugh at me. The door swings open, and there he stands- my husband still in name and everything, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, still in his day clothes. Memories of the past swirl in my mind. We had once been lovers, bound by vows and dreams. Now, those dreams felt like ashes in my mouth.

  “Your grace,” the knight says, and Aemond regards him with a hum. “The Queen is here.”

  “Here?” He asks, turning around with a frown on his face before he sees me. I stand in the doorway, my arms hanging by my side as I look at him. His face drops before he picks it back up again, telling the knight to leave us. I hear the door close and we are finally left alone. I do not feel as scared as I thought I would. Instead I feel, melancholic. Bittersweet.

  “Wife.” He speaks, going to walk closer but I take a step back and he instantly stops.

  “Aemond.” I say, regarding him as though he is merely an alliance.

  “What brings you back here?’

My heart races, but I hold my ground. “You know why I’m here, Aemond. You took my brother from me.”

His expression shifts but I do not know to what. “Did you get my letters?”

That takes me aback, and I physically step back again. “What?” I ask him, my face twisting into confusion. “What letters?”

He steps closer again but I don’t step away. I realize what expression is on his face. It’s relief. It’s hope. It’s love. “I wrote to you. Every day. I did not know if you would ever come back.”

My heart twists at the sincerity in his voice, but I force myself to remember why I am here. “You killed Lucerys, Aemond. You and Vhagar.”

He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, the warmth in his eyes contrasting sharply with the chill in my heart. “I know what happened, I was there. However, you have to believe me I did not kill him.”

  “Of course you did!” I laugh ruefully. “Or did you forget that I was there as well? I have a scar running up my side because of that night. A constant reminder I could not save my own flesh and blood.”

  “Did you know that your brothers attached wings to a pig once and told me to ride it?” he asks and my shoulders sink.

  “They told me that frequently.” I say. I see the hurt of a little child pass over his face, his pain at the humiliation. “But do not try to justify your murder with stupid stories. It wasn’t right of them, I understand that. Children do stupid things.”

  “I am trying to say that Lucerys was never my enemy. It was not his idea, I understand that. It was all Aegon’s. It was always Aegon.”

I fight against the swell of conflicting emotions. “And? Do you think I came back to reminisce?” I reach for the knife in my boot, raising it to him.

  “I am telling you this because you are my wife,” he says simply, as if the weight of our bond can erase the past and I am not holding the pointy side of a dagger to his throat. “I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, Maella.” I do not know what to say. “Do you remember when you first bonded with Lyrax? Not when she became your dragon and she claimed you. When you bonded.”

I nod, moving away from the door and circling him. “Yes of course I do.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Stop trying to distract me.” I say.

  “I’m not. Tell me.” He presses on.

For a moment, my resolve falters, the memories of our shared laughter, although rare, and quiet moments flooding my senses. “You don’t understand,” I reply, my voice trembling. “I should hate you for what you did.”

Aemond’s expression turns serious. “I do not expect your forgiveness. I do not even deserve it. But I want you to know that I never wanted this, I never wanted to hurt you.”

I struggle to find my footing, my mind racing. “You think a few letters and sweet words will change what happened? You think that can bring Lucery’s back?”

  “I know it cannot.” He admits, his voice low. Aemond snaps out of whatever trance he was just in and swallows. He moves to his desk and presents to me a letter, his wax emblem on the envelope. “But it is easier for you to hate me.” He adds. “I will wait for you, Maella. I will write you letters until you can see that I am sincere. I still love you, Maella.”

My heart aches at his words, the sincerity tugging at my defenses. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and poignant. For a heartbeat, I feel my resolve waver. I had come here to avenge my brother, but the man before me is still the husband I had once loved.

  “Do you truly believe that?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper, the vulnerability surfacing despite her efforts to remain steadfast.

  “I do,” He says, his hand reaching out to mine.

I stare at him, torn between the desire for vengeance and the yearning for the warmth of our past. I shake my head, the tears threatening to spill over. “You don’t get to dictate my choices. You don’t understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  “I do understand,” he insists, his voice rising slightly. “I lost you.”

The desperation in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, but I can’t let myself be swayed. “You don’t get to play the victim here. You made your choice!” In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart began to tremble. The softness in his gaze, the sincerity of his words- it all felt too familiar, too dangerous. “You think this is just going to go away? That we can just pretend this never happened!”

He opens his mouth to reply but suddenly I hear the shuffle and clinking of knights armor. My mind goes back and forth. Trying to determine if I should follow or bring my mother Aemonds head. I make a decision in that moment to disappoint my mother and let Aemond live, throwing open the door of his room and following the knights into the halls of the Red Keep.

  “What is happening?” I ask one of the knights but he ignores me. I decide to figure out what is happening for myself and slink through the stairwells and small hallways when I suddenly run into two men, one holding a torch and the other a blade dripping with red blood. “Who are you?” I ask them, demanding to know.

  “We could ask you the same thing.” One of them speak, his voice scares me. Deep and raspy.

  “What is happening?” I ask them instead, holding my chin high like a Queen should.

  “We killed the boy.” The other smiles before they move past me, in a rush to probably escape.

The boy? What boy? I ask myself as I shake my head and push the door that is behind a tapestry in Jahaerys’ and Jaehaera’s room. I want to see them before I leave, just one last time. But when I step out from behind the tapestry, it is quiet. Deathly quiet. No soft breathing of children, no murmuring from dreams. Nothing.

I walk towards one of the beds that Jaehaerys should be in and thankfully he’s there. I look at the other bed and Jaehaerais missing. I go to touch his chest, whispering a little, “Jaehaerys.” to wake him. But his chest is not moving. I touch his face, before feeling something wet and pulling away, raising my hand up to see what I had touched in the candle light.

I almost vomit.

It’s blood.

I grab a candle that is barely still burning to hold it up to Jaehaerys and I realize he has no head.

My nephew has no head.

I feel bile rise up my throat instantly and I drop the candle as it burns out, cupping my hand over my mouth until I realize it is still covered in his blood and pull it away, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I begin to hyperventilate. I need to get out of here. I turn on my heel and slip. I look down at what had caused me to do so and it’s more blood.

My front is now covered in it and I vomit.

Chapter Text

I step through the heavy doors of my chambers, my heart still racing from the events at the Red Keep. The flickering candlelight casts long shadows on the stone walls, but the warmth of the flames did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep within my bones.

I close the door behind me, sealing off the world that has become a cacophony of grief and despair once more. My eyes fall to my hands, now stained with the remnants of the chaos I have witnessed. The vivid crimson of blood contrasted sharply against my pale skin, a stark reminder of the horror I had stumbled upon. Jaehaerys, the young prince, lay lifeless, the life snuffed out in an instant, and I had been there, a silent witness.

With a shuddering breath, I move towards te wash bin, the coolness of the stone a welcome contrast to the heat of my rising emotions. I fill the basin with water, watching the ripples spread out, momentarily distracting me from the weight of my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I dip my hands into the water, watching as flakes begin to float and sink to the bottom, a macabre dance of red against the clear liquid.

As the water turns a sickly shade, I scrub my hands with urgency, the roughness of the cloth biting into my skin. Each stroke feels like an attempt to erase not just the blood, but the memories of the day- the screams, the chaos, the helplessness. I can still hear the echo of panic reverberating through the halls of the Keep, the frantic shouts of guards, the cries of the courtiers.

  "Maella!” The voice of Jace cuts through the turmoil, pulling me back to the present moment, but I had only been able to watch as the world around me crumbled. I splash water over my arms, desperately trying to cleanse myself of the horror that clings to my skin. But no matter how hard I scrub, the feeling of helplessness lingers, a weight pressing down on my chest.

  “What have I done?” I murmur to myself, a tremor in my voice. I had to have a part in this, right? It was no mere coincidence. It couldn’t be.

The blood is not just on my hands; it felt as if it had seeped into my very soul. I rinse the cloth and wring it out, the water pooling with dark stains, a grim testament to the violence that has unfolded. I continue to wash, my thoughts drifting to Jaehaerys. He had been so young, so full of life. How had it come to this? The Targaryen court had become a place of intrigue and betrayal, a web of secrets that ensures even the innocent. I had seen the way the nobles had looked at one another, the whispers in the shadows, and I had always known that danger lurks just beneath the surface. But to witness it firsthand was another matter entirely. Twice at that.

The water begins to cool and I shiver as it washes over me, reminding me that I am still alive in a world that feels increasingly dark. I turn the basin, letting the bloodied water flow away, as if trying to wash away the stain of the day. But the memory of Jaehaerys' face, the startled expression frozen in time, will haunt me for nights to come.

Finally, with the water now clear and the remnants of the day’s horror receding, I set the cloth aside and step back from the basin. I wipe my hands on a towel, the fabric soft against my skin, and it takes a moment to steady myself.

  “Breathe,” I whisper, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. The air feels thick with unprocessed emotions, and I know I have to confront them. As I look at my reflection in the dim light, I feel a flicker of something else rising within me. I gather myself, pulling my hair back and tying it with a simply ribbon. I dress in a clean gown, the fabric cool against my skin, and smooth out the wrinkles as I know exactly who to confront.

The sun is rising, and he should be up by now. The tension in the small council chamber was palpable as I stepped inside, my heart racing with a mixture of anger and determination. The long table is filled with the realm’s most powerful lords and ladies, their faces a tapestry of concern and ambition, all whispering about the aftermath of Jaeherys’ death. My presence silences the room, eyes turning toward me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

  "Maella,” Daemon greets me, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of worry. “We were just discussing the implications of the tragedy of…well you know.”

  “I’m sure you were,” I reply, my voice sharp. My gaze sweeps across the council, finally landing back on Daemon, who sits at the far end with my mother, his expression inscrutable. “But I need to speak to you. Now.” I tell him, “Mother command them out, please.”

I ask her, raising my head to look at her not glancing at anyone else. Daemon raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickers across his face, but the glimmer vanishes when he sees the intensity in my eyes. “What is it, my dear?”

I only begin speaking when I know everyone has left except for me, Daemon and Rhaenyra. “Did you know this would happen?” I demand, my voice rising in the heavy air. “Did you orchestrate this? Did you plan for Jaehaerys to die the moment you decided to take matters into your own hands because you not could stand that your daughter second in command to you?”

Daemon leans regards me with a mix of curiosity and defiance. “What are you accusing me of, Maella?”

  “Don’t play coy with me!” I shoot back, my frustration boiling over. “You went behind my back. You made decisions that led to this chaos. Jaehaerys was innocent, and now he’s dead because of your reckless actions!”

  “Did you send assassins to murder children in their beds?” Mother butts in with questions of her own.

Daemon’s expression hardens, and the air thickens with tension. “You think I wanted this? You think I orchestrated this tragedy? I sent the Queen’s vengeance for her son.”

  “Then explain yourself!” I press, stepping closer to the table, my fists clenching at my sides. “You’ve always acted without considering the consequences. Do you even grasp the weight of what you’ve done?”

  “What did you tell this ‘vengeance’.” Mother asks. “What did you say to him, Daemon?” she slams her hand down on the table, leaning in to him but it does not make him flinch. “That a boy lies dead and I am accused of killing it?”

  "Mysaria provided me with names and a subterfuge. I was clear in my instructions: Aemond, the brother of Aegon the Usurper. I cannot be responsible for a mistake.”

  “A mistake? Cannot be responsible?” I ask him.

Rhaenyra walks over to his side, leaning on the table as she speaks to him like a child that will not listen. “If Aemond was not to be found, what were your instructions then?”

Daemon sets down his cup and drags a hand down his face. “They did not concern in any way,” he sighs, “that of a little child.”

  “You said that it was your aim to spill Hightower blood, and if not Aemond, then anyone would do.”

  “No.” He counters. That being his only word and it makes me laugh bitterly.

  “You have wounded me. Weakened my claim to the throne, my ability to raise an army, my standing among my own council.”

  “I said no.”

  “I do not believe you.”

Daemon rises from his seat, his presence commanding as I faces me and Rhaenyra. “I did what I thought was necessary to protect our family. You know the stakes, Maella. The realm is a dangerous place, and sometimes sacrifices must be made.”

  “Sacrifices?” My voice trembles with rage. “You sacrificed a child! You’ve put your ambition above everything else, even the lives of those who looked up to you.”

  "Jaeherys

 was a pawn in this game, and you know it,” Daemon replies, his voice low but intense.

My mother walks away from his side to one of the windows, running a hand down her face as she sighs before turning back to face him. “And so we come to it at last long.” I watch as Daemon leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Cannot trust you, Daemon.” she finally speaks. “I’ve never trusted you, wholly…much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs to you and only you. And when I was a child, I took this as a challenge. But I am older now and I have challenges enough.”

  “I have served you faithfully.” He finally answers.

  “Have you?” She replies back. I am standing watching this unfold. “Or have you used me as a tool with which to grasp at your stolen inheritance?”

That throws him over the edge and he swipes his cup off the table and stands up suddenly, his chair clattering to the floor as I step in front of my mother, a hand holding her back as I draw my sword to him. “I am not afraid to cut you down were you stand, father.” I feel my mother come out from behind me and lower my arm.

Daemon steps towards her, his hands going to both sides of her face. I watch with concern, my sword still unsheathed and ready to strike him. His thumb strokes her cheeks as he speak. “When Sir Erryk brought you the crown…did I myself not place it upon your brow?”

  “Yes, but before that, you sought to lead a council to war while I labored alone in my bedchamber.” I watch as tears brim in her eyes but she continues nonetheless. “And afterward, when I thought it meet to consider the terms our foes but before us-”

Daemon interrupts her, shouting, “A folly! A folly! To give up my brothers throne to the traitorous lies of Otto Hightower!”

  “My throne, Daemon!” She counters. “Mine! I think you used my words as an excuse to take your own revenge…our daughters own words.” She gestures to me. “to indulge the darkness you keep sheathed within you like a blade.”

  “You think me some kind of monster-”

It’s her turn to cut him off. “Oh, I don’t know what to think of you. I don’t know what you are, or who you serve.”

He laughs, stammering as he says, “Am I not on my way, even now, to Harrenhall to raise an army in your name, Rhaenyra?! Yours!”

I think I should leave. I watch my mother walk away, trying to bury the emotions that bubble up for a second. She pushes them back down, turning to face Daemon again. “Do you accept me as your queen and ruler?” His picks his head up, not saying anything as Rhaenyra continues. “Or do you cling even now, to what you think you lost?”

  “What I think I lost?”

  “You did not lose it. You gave it away…because you thought ever and only of your own glory, and not my father in his grief who needed you.”

  “Your father was a coward.” I swallow, harshly looking at them both argue back and forth. “who knew I was the stronger son, that I was the leader of men and he was afraid to be seen in my shadow.”

  “Is that what you understand of your own brother?”

  “Oh, you know him better than I do, who was raised at his side? Do you believe he made you heir because of your great wisdom? Because of your virtue?”

  “How dare you-”

  “Or did he merely use you as tool to put me in my place because he was afraid to me Because he knew your legacy, unlike mine, would never outshine his own.”

  “Father!” I butt in, frowning at him and appalled that he would make that accusation.

  “He was not afraid of you, Daemon!” Mother yells, her hands trying to emphasize her point as she strains the words, walking to him. “He could not trust you…any more than I can trust you.”

  “He was a fool…who sought greatness but shrank from spilling blood to achieve it. And I see you will suffer the same fate.”

  “You struck down a child.”

  “It was a mistake.”

I look at my mother, who’s eyes are red rimmed. “You’re pathetic.” she sighs, before looking away and taking her seat back at the head of the Council table. I watch Daemon leave, both mother and I flinching as he slams the door. I swallow again, looking to my mother.

  “Mother?”

  “Go.” she whispers.

Chapter Text

I stand in the great hall of Dragonstone, my gaze locked on my mother. The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with the heat of my fury. My mother’s decision is final, yet I refuse to let it go unchallenged.

  “You’re sending me away? To the Blackwoods?” My voice trembles, not with fear but with anger. My hair cascades over my shoulder, and my eyes burn with indignation. “After everything I’ve done for this family, this is my punishment?”

My mother’s expression is calm, though a flicker of pain crosses her face. She sits on the high-backed chair, her queenly posture unwavering. “It is not a punishment, sweet girl. It’s for your good. Your actions against Aemond were reckless and dangerous. If you had succeeded, the realm would be in chaos. If you had died…” she trails off, her voice thick with emotion. “I won’t lose another child.”

  “I’m not a child, Mother!” I snap, my voice echoing off the stone walls. “And you’ve already lost Daemon. You sent him to Harrenhall, and now you’re sending me to the Riverlands. Do you plan to banish all of your family?”

  “Daemon’s departure was necessary for the war effort,” Mother replies, her tone firm. “And your departure is necessary for you to find clarity and restraint. The Blackwoods are a loyal and noble house. Lord Blackwood will see to it that you are well cared for and you in turn will gain their loyalty to me.”

I laugh bitterly. “Loyalty and nobility? From a Riverlands house? Do you truly believe I’ll be content in a place so far removed from everything I have been getting used to? I’m a dragon, Mother, not a raven. The Riverlands will stifle me.”

Mother rose from her chair, commanding the room. “You are my daughter, and you will do as I say. This is not up for debate.”

  “It should be!” I counter, stepping closer to my mother. “You’ve already taken so much from me. You sent me away when I was not even two seconds old. My marriage to Aemond was a nightmare, and I endured it for as long as I could for the sake of this family before I crawled back here to escape it. Alicent took my dragon away and practically forced me to have children with a man I despise. When I finally tried to take control like a Queen should be able to, you call me reckless and ship me off like a burden. Is that what I am to you? He killed your son! He killed my brother!”

Her composure falters, her voice softening. “I know it!” she yells before taking a breath. “You are not a burden, Maella. You are my heart. That is why I must protect you, even if it means making decisions you don’t agree with.”

  “Protect me? By sending me away?” My voice cracks then, and I blink back tears. “You’re abandoning me, just as you abandoned Daemon.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “Maella! Daemon is serving a purpose, as will you. This is not abandonment. It is strategy. It is survival.”

  “No, Mother,” I say, shaking my head. “It is fear. You’re afraid of what I’ll do next. Afraid that I’m too much like Daemon. Or too much like you.”

The words hung in the air like a sharp blade, cutting through the tension. My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, the Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Protector of the Realm looked merely like a mother, struggling to hold her family together.

  “You’re right,” Rhaenyra finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am afraid. Afraid of losing you like Lucerys. Afraid of how it would have affected you if you had someone’s blood on your hands. Joffrey is scared enough. He has Jace. He needs you. The Blackwoods may not be where you want to go, but it is where you need to be.”

My shoulders sag, my anger giving way to despair. “I won’t forgive you for this,” I say, my voice breaking. “You’re sending me away when I need you the most. How can you claim to love me and still cast me aside? I am a Queen too.”

Mother steps forward, her hands trembling as she reaches for me. “I know you are and I do love you, sweet girl. More than anything. That is why I’m doing this. One day, you’ll understand.”

I pull away, my tears flowing freely now. “Perhaps I will. But not today.” Without another word, I turn and storm out of the hall, my footsteps echoing behind me.

————

The next morning, as I prepare for my departure, I find Daemon standing alone in the hall. His armor glints in the morning light, and his dark expression mirrors my own. I approach him with purposeful strides, my anger bubbling to the surface.

  “You had no right,” I begin without preamble, my voice sharp as a blade. “I told you I could handle Aemond. I didn’t need you charging in and turning the situation into a bloodbath.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, but his tone is calm, almost taunting. “Handle him? You would have been killed. Or worse. You’re too blinded by your hatred to see the danger you put yourself in.”

  “I’m the Queen of King’s Landing and your daughter,” I shoot back, my voice rising. “You should have respected my wishes. Instead, you ignored me, and now Jaeherys is dead because of you.”

At the mention of Jaeherys, Daemon’s face darkened. For a moment, the defiance in his eyes gave way to something softer—regret, perhaps. But it’s fleeting. “I did what I thought was right. Aemond is a threat to us all, and I won’t apologize for trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” My voice cracks with emotion. “You didn’t protect anyone. You made it worse. And now Mother is sending you away because she can’t trust you, just as she’s sending me away because she doesn’t trust me. Is that what you wanted, Daemon? To tear this family apart? I know what Aemond is, that’s why I wanted to handle him alone.”

Daemon’s jaw tightens, and he looks away. “Perhaps she’s forgotten what it means to have fire in your blood.”

I take a step closer, my hands trembling at my sides. “Don’t you dare make this about her. You and I both know this is your doing. Your recklessness, your arrogance. You’re no better than Aemond for all your talk of loyalty and family.”

Daemon’s eyes flash with anger, but he holds his ground. “Say what you will, Maella. Hate me if you must. But I’d rather have your hatred than see you dead. Remember that.”

With that, he turns and walks away, his cape billowing behind him. I watch him go, my chest heaving with anger and grief. I want to scream, to lash out, to make him understand the depth of my pain. But the words won’t come.

As I mount Lyrax and take to the skies, my heart feels heavier than ever. The Blackwoods await me, but my thoughts remain in Dragonstone, with the family I love and lost in equal measure.

My belongings are packed and ready, the chill of the morning air does little to soothe my anger, and the sight of my mother watching from the castle steps only fuels my resentment.

  “Be safe,” Rhaenyra calls out, her voice strained with emotion. I sigh, knowing I should do something, say something. I mount Lyrax without responding, my jaw set in defiance. As the dragon’s wings unfurl and we take to the skies, I cast one last glance at Dragonstone. My home, my mother, my family—all fading into the distance.

————

Raventree Hall is not like Dragonstone.

The wind swirls around me as I hug my cloak tighter. The cold does not help the pit in my stomach, which is forming.

My arrival was as foreign as I had imagined. The sun was setting as Lyrax descended into the courtyard, her massive wings stirring up a flurry of dead leaves and dust. The castle’s weathered walls loomed high above her, black and skeletal against the twilight sky. The chill in the air was heavy, more oppressive than the biting cold of the North. As I dismounted, my boots crunched against the gravel, and the sound echoed in the silence.

Lord Samwell Blackwood stood at the base of the steps leading to the hall, his expression a mixture of curiosity and formality. His dark hair framed a youthful but weathered face, and he wore the black and red of his house proudly. Beside him were a handful of retainers, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of the dragon.

  “Queen Maella,” Samwell greeted me, his voice steady but polite. “Welcome to Raventree Hall.”

I inclined my head, my expression carefully neutral. “Lord Blackwood. I thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It is an honor to host a Targaryen,” he replied, though his tone was measured. “Raventree Hall is at your service.”

As the retainers moved to take her belongings, I cast a lingering glance at Lyrax. The dragon’s amber eyes met mine, a silent reassurance that she was not entirely alone in this foreign place. With a low rumble, Lyrax turned and took flight, her massive form disappearing into the darkening sky.

The walk to the hall was silent, save for the rustle of leaves beneath their boots. The castle’s interior was dimly lit, the ancient weirwood tree visible through a cracked window, its blood-red leaves vibrant even in the fading light. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, my frustration mounting with each step. This was my punishment, my exile, and I felt every bit the outsider in this somber and unfamiliar land.

When we reached the hall, Samwell gestured for me to sit at the high table. “You must be weary from your journey,” he said, his tone polite but distant. “We’ve prepared a feast in your honor.”

My lips twitched in a faint, humorless smile. “A feast for a prisoner? How kind.”

Samwell’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, he seemed taken aback. Then, his expression softened. “You are no prisoner, Princess. Raventree Hall is your home now, for as long as you choose to stay.”

  “Home,” I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. I looked around the hall, at the unfamiliar faces and the ancient stone walls. It was a far cry from the warmth of Dragonstone, from the family I had left behind. “We shall see.”

The feast passed in a blur of polite conversation and curious glances. The Blackwoods were kind, in their own way, but their stares made me feel like a caged dragon on display. I answered their questions with clipped words, my patience wearing thin as the night dragged on.

When the feast finally ended, I was shown to my chambers. The room was modest but comfortable, a fire crackling in the hearth. I stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling branches of the weirwood tree. The Riverlands were as somber and unyielding as I had imagined, and I wondered if I would ever feel at home here.

As I lay in the unfamiliar bed, wrapped in thick furs, my thoughts drifted to Dragonstone. To my mother, to my siblings, to the life I had left behind. My anger had not faded, but now it was joined by a deep, aching loneliness. I was a dragon in a land of ravens, and I wondered if the fire within me would survive.

Chapter Text

This is an update

I did not forget about this story, I'm just trying to rewrite it currently so it's not as cringey and whatnot. 

So I'm sorry if it feels like I abandoned it. I did for a little while, I won't lie, I got major writing block, but not only that, I feel like my story plays into too many stereotypes of a lot of Aemond x OC fanfics so I want to rewrite it and make it not seem like Maella (a name a lot of people use in Aemond x OC stories already) was 'different' and blah blah blah so I am currently rewriting! 

Love, maple ❤️