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Chapter Text

"Meet your little brother," the nursemaid said softly, extending the little bundle towards Rhaena and Baela before handing him to her exhausted-looking mother. 

They had been eagerly anticipating the new babe for months now, hoping for another sister if only to have someone to dress up and teach about the world. Father would favor a boy, she knew, and leave them behind, even if Mother said he wouldn't. 

Father was smiling, looking at the baby with wonder on his face. "Girls, this is Alysar," he said, petting Mother's hair.

Baela got to hold him first, and that was fine because Rhaena's hands were shaking a little. "He's so little and squishy," she noted, amazed. 

The maid helped arrange Rhaena's hands to hold the baby and he made a few noises but then he was quiet, eyes closed as she looked at the barely-there tuft of white hair on his head. She leaned in to kiss him on the top of his skull before he was spirited back to Mother. 

Maybe he would be like her, she dared to hope. Maybe his egg wouldn't hatch. 

"Shame Rhaenyra had another boy. Born so close together, we might have made a match," Mother mused. 

"There's always the older strong boy," Father said. "I suppose. Or that Pentoshi Prince is always talking about his seven sons."

Mother looked tired when she laughed. "True enough. Take the girls. I need my rest."

Father took them down into the manse's dining hall to eat supper. Baela happily chatted about what they could name Alysar's dragon that was enough like Moondancer that everyone knew they were siblings. 

Rhaena tried to smile along, holding Baela's hand. 

Alysar's egg hatched, of course. Rhaena tried to be good and keep her hurt to herself, but the bitter tears were too hard to hide. "Sweet girl," Mother said, running a hand through her hair and wiping away her tears. 

She hid her face in Mother's side. "It's not fair," she lamented. "I wish his stupid egg had never hatched."

"Rhaena…" Mother said. "I know it feels unfair. But I didn't claim Vhagar until I was 15. You still have time. Your father didn't have a hatchling, nor did Grandmother Rhaenys."

She sniffed. "Then why does Father ignore me, if he didn't have a dragon at my age either?" 

Mother didn't have an answer for that. "I wish you could be among your cousins where you wouldn't feel so alone. We've been so far from our family for so long… Nevermind that. There may still yet be a dragon for you, my sweet girl."

Rhaena didn't know what she meant by that, still clinging to her as she tried to take deep breaths and calm her tears. "I'm not brave like you, Mother."

"You're too little to be brave yet," she said. "Don't be so keen to grow up. If you're meant to have a dragon, the gods will provide." 

Rhaena didn't know if she believed in that. Why would the gods care about her and her dragon? They were gods and she was just Rhaena. 

"We're leaving?" she asked as Baela packed her trunk.

"Returning to Driftmark," Father said, sounding ill at ease. "and then to the Capitol to introduce your brother to the court."

Rhaena had heard them talking when no one thought she was listening, about how Mother missed her family and wanted to go home, even if Father didn't want to. How she wanted grandmother and grandfather to meet the baby, and to see Uncle Laenor. 

Father eventually said yes, but he said he thought the King still hated him and wouldn't want him to visit. Mother said that was silly, and that he'd be glad to see them all. 

Rhaena was excited to see the Red Keep. They said that there was a great library there, with scrolls and tomes she could only imagine. She hoped the maester would let her read some of them. 

The baby and his hatchling, who was red like Caraxes, were growing well. She did love him, really, she did, even if she hated how much Father seemed devoted to him. 

Driftmark was salty and wet and a little dreary, but she loved it all the same. Grandfather and Grandmother were happy to see them, talking about how big they'd gotten and how pretty their hair was. 

They loved the boy, too, but at least Rhaenys didn't make them feel ignored. 

"I'm glad he finally let you come home," she heard Rhaenys tell Mother one night when they were meant to be in bed. 

"I loved the adventure. He wasn't keeping me from you. He's just afraid of the King's wrath."

"Ha! What wrath? He can't even keep his wife from swiping at his daughter." 

Mother was quiet for a long pause. "Daemon ought to go home. To make sure his brother is safe. But I would stay in Driftmark for some time. After we present the babe to court and all of that. What do you think?"

"Your father has been talking about sailing out to the Stepstones, gods take his head. I would love for you and the girls to keep this old crone company while the men make their wars."

A guard passed by and Rhaena had to go to bed by then, but her heart was beating loud at the thought. Driftmark was close to Dragonstone, where the dragons lived… 

"Where did you go?" Baela asked when she finally got back to their room. She was tying her hair up the way Mother showed them, trying to be bossy and mature. 

"I was just walking around," she said, shrugging. "Father might go to stay with the King," she said in a whisper. "And we might stay here."

"Sounds boring. Can't we at least go to King's Landing with him? There are more people. " Baela seemed excited at the thought of court, and that made Rhaena feel it too. Maybe they could have real friends if there were other children around. She knew that Princess Rhaenyra had sons around their age. 

"Maybe we can. We can hide when we get there and they won't be able to take us." 

That just made them both giggle, and they didn't stop laughing until it was time to go to sleep. 

She walked behind her mother, apprehensive at the gathered lords and ladies all craning to get a look at them as they walked into the throne room. 

The king was on the throne, looking old and tired but happy to see them, his children in the front row of staring admirers. 

Rhaena met the eye of a silver-haired boy, tall and lean, behind his mother the Queen. On the other side, her uncle waited with Princess Rhaenyra and their sons. One of them was as little as Alysar. 

"Your Grace," Mother said. "May I present our new son, Alysar of House Targaryen to the court," she said, the baby still in her arms, fussing at the noise. "We are thrilled to be back among family for our son's first months of life."

Father didn't speak, but he watched the King with something like fear in his eyes. "We hope to spend some time in the Capitol and reconnect with the gracious lords and ladies of the court," he said, but to her, he sounded like he was joking. 

"I'm glad to receive you, Prince Daemon, Lady Laena. I am glad to see your family healthy. Let us feast tonight and talk particulars tomorrow," he said with a clap of his hands. 

She sat with her sister and cousins at dinner, having fun and listening to Jacaerys joke with his brothers while the adults talked at the head of the table. The king's children sat somewhat removed from them, but Princess Helaena had edged over, looking at Rhaena and Baela with overlarge moon-eyes, tentatively excited to be around other girls. "No one wants to see your bugs, Helaena," her brother said with a roll of his eyes. 

"I do," Jace protested. 

True to her brother's word, Helaena had a spider resting on her hand. 

Rhaena squealed, a bit afraid, but Baela and Jace leaned over to look at it, interested in its spindly legs and too many eyes. The princess beamed. 

"I hate it when she does that, too," Prince Aemond muttered to her over the din of supper. "They're not scary, it's just not a nice surprise."

"Too many legs," Rhaena agreed. "I can't believe they listen to her." 

Aemond nodded. "Animals like Helaena. Even dragons…" he trailed off. She hadn't realized Helaena had claimed a dragon. Envy grew in her stomach as she turned back to her food. 

"I saw Dreamfyre in my dreams," Helaena agreed. "And she saw me." 

"I wanted Dreamfyre…" he admitted, tone a little sulky. 

"You'll have a dragon, brother, but you aren't closing your eye," she chided, before turning to her food and abandoning the conversation entirely. 

Rhaena wondered what she meant by that. 

She never wanted to leave the capitol. The books and stories she got to read and hear were nothing like Pentos, and nothing like Driftmark. She could sit among stacks of books for hours, trying to forget all her cares amongst the stories of brave princesses and songs of daring outlaws. 

"I like this one," a new voice said, and a book was tossed in her direction, landing in front of her. 

She looked up to see Aemond Targaryen strolling up to sit next to her. The younger prince was surly and quiet, but Rhaena didn't mind it. He didn't seem to know how to talk to people, but sometimes she didn't either. "Thank you. What are you doing here?" 

"Hiding," he said. "You?" 

"Hiding." 

"Do they tease you too?" he asked, a hitch in his voice. 

"Who?"

"Aegon and Jacaerys --" he said, breaking off and looking around before he continued. "They tease me." 

"Why would they do that?" She hadn't talked to Aegon, not really, but Jace had been so nice to her. "I can tell them to stop."

His face darkened. "They'll never stop. Not until I have a dragon," he said, surly. 

Rhaena had always felt bad about her egg not hatching, but now she felt a strange fear that her cousins thought she was stupid or silly for it. "They pick on you for not having a dragon? But that's not fair!" she protested. 

"That's how they are."

A door opened in the distance, and Rhaena looked up to see her mother approaching. "Rhaena, my Prince, it's nearly time for supper. What are you doing cooped up in here?" 

"Hiding," Rhaena said, ignoring how silent Aemond had gotten. "Mother, are my cousins going to make fun of me for not having a dragon?" 

"Why would they do that, sweet girl?" 

"Aemond says they tease him. Prince Aegon does it, too," she said, not sure why he was red faced and tugging on her sleeve. "For not having a hatchling. But I don't --"

"I'll speak with the princes about this," Mother said, stern. "They are lucky to have such special bonds with their dragons. That does not mean those that don't are lesser." She looked at Aemond with a firm, kind stare. "I didn't claim Vhagar until I was five and ten. You both have time, and no need to feel badly. Royal princes aren't immune from being reminded of their manners, though. Now come, to eat with both of you."

Aemond was glowering in embarrassment as he trailed behind Rhaena and Mother, but when Rhaena looked back at him he almost smiled.

Chapter Text

Aemond was ready to see Dragonstone. He was ready to see the dragonmount and the secrets that were hidden there. He wasn't a fool, he knew they weren't going to Dragonstone for a social visit, even though no one believed him when he told them the truth. 

It had been some months ago when Prince Daemon and his family were still in the city visiting, he had heard his uncle speaking with his father. He hadn't meant to snoop, but -- well, perhaps there's no other word for it. 

"The Hightowers mean to undermine you," he heard Uncle Daemon say. 

Why would grandfather or mother undermine Father? Unless Daemon meant Uncle Gwayne, which somehow seemed even less likely. 

"Daemon, you sound paranoid. We've known nothing but peace for over a decade," Father said, in that tone he used when he didn't want to talk. "Otto is no longer Hand. Alicent is my wife, she helps me rule with the crown in mind, not her own ambition."

Daemon snorted. "They mean to undermine your choice in heir , Viserys. they want to put Alicent Hightower's pissant son on the throne before you're cold, I just know it." 

"That is my son you speak of, Daemon," Father said, but he didn't sound angry. Just tired. "I have never declared anyone my heir but Rhaenyra. They must know that."

"That was before you had three sons. They'll sneak in and take it all away from her if you let them. You'll be too busy moldering in the ground to stop the fight that is coming."

Aemond crouched further into the shadows. What were they talking about? It all sounded so…dire, but almost like it didn't really make sense. 

"So what should I do?" 

"Reaffirm Rhaenyra as your heir if you mean to keep to that proclamation. Or affirm Aegon, if it please you. Leave no ambiguity for them to latch onto. Do not let Alicent make marriage matches for them, she'll think only of her own family's power."

"I can't help but think you are coming to me as a means to your own ends, brother," Father said. 

"I only wish to counsel you, as I ought to have been this whole time," he said, irritated. "And my daughters are approaching an age where a long betrothal may suit them." 

"Alicent has spoken of wedding Aegon and Helaena," he said faintly. "Would you suggest something in defiance of Valyrian tradition?" 

"Perhaps. Might it be best to give Aegon a bride that offers us a strong ally among the high lords? Honor them with a prince, even one with no true inheritance. I had thought Baela might wed Jacaerys."

"Ah, there it is. Your daughter would be queen after Rhaenyra inherits."

"I could've just as easily asked to wed her to Aegon and she would still be queen if you did not act." Aemond was too anxious at the prospect of being caught to keep listening, slipping out of his little corner as Father and Daemon began walking the steps, still talking. 

Now they were going to Dragonstone. Father had said it was to celebrate Rhaenyra taking her place on the island, the heir's official seat, but great lords from across Westeros had been invited, too, which he knew was unusual. 

Aemond wondered if Father would finally tell everyone Aegon was heir now. He hardly cared. He cared about the promise of Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, and Silverwing. He cared about exploring the history of the island while no one bothered him. 

And maybe he would find something to show Rhaena. 

He didn't know what Laena Velaryon had said to his nephews, but they had stopped going along with Aegon's jokes after Rhaena had told her what he'd said. As mortifying as it was, none of them had ever mocked him for having a woman stand up for him, so maybe they didn't really know.

It had been a year, nearly, and while Aegon had never stopped teasing him, his nephews at least had left him blissfully alone, and without their tittering, Aegon seemed less invested. He grew less interested in his siblings and nephews by the day, more occupied with women and wine the closer to manhood he got. 

Rhaena was like Aemond, though, so maybe he would find the words and find a way to talk to her properly. Maybe they could explore the island together. She probably knew more about it than he did, as close as it was to Driftmark. "Look, dragons," he said from the bow of the ship, nudging Aegon. 

Aegon squinted, humoring his interest. "Is that Syrax?" he asked, pointing, knowing Aemond would know in an instant. 

"Yes. And Seasmoke," he said, pointing at the pale dragon as it became visible through a gap in the clouds, the blue of the sky highlighting the white of his scales. "Jacaerys and Lucerys's dragons aren't big enough yet, I doubt they'll be out." 

"Then who's that?" Helaena asked, tone distant as she pointed to a dark shape flying towards the island, coming from the direction of Driftmark. 

"The Blood Wyrm," he said, though he wasn't confident, because of the Blood Wyrm were in flight, that would mean that --

The sky darkened above them, and the sailors were exclaiming in confusion about the possibility of a storm. Aemond looked up and saw the massive shape of Vhagar, oldest and largest living dragon, flying above them, landing in a vast field outside of the walls of Dragonstone and roaring her arrival, her ancient call hoarse and rumbling. 

Caraxes answered with a shriek and landed nearby. 

Moondancer would not be on Dragonstone, he was sure Baela and Rhaena had either ridden with their mother or been conveyed by ship with their grandsire.

There was a flash of red, and Seasmoke called with a happy tone. 

"Meleys," Aegon pointed out as the Red Queen landed, not far from Seasmoke. "Fastest of the dragons, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"They have decided to show all of their strength," he heard her mother mutter bitterly to grandfather.

"It's not often we get an excuse to show off, you'll have to pardon them," Father said, hardly listening to Mother as he did. "The High Lords deserve a treat." 

A treat, Aemond wondered, or a threat? 

They were shown to rooms in the castle and Aemond immediately decided to start exploring. Vermithor and Silverwing lived in the bowels of the Dragonmount, but one of the kingsguard was at the end of the hall, as if someone anticipated him sneaking off. Damn them. 

He walked around the halls of the wing of the castle they'd been given. "He cannot be dissuaded from it, Father," he heard his mother saying. 

He slowed down to lean in and listen for a moment. 

"Daemon returning to the keep has energized him," she continued. "He is invested in marriage proposals, discussing strategy…and now this farcical show of reinforcing Rhaenyra as his heir. Is there nothing to be done? For the children?"

He heard grandfather next. "They have shown they have the advantage, but Rhaenyra does still have a woman's heart. This show of faith in her inheriting the throne…" he sighed. "Now, anyone who supported Aegon's claim to the throne would be a rebel traitor , overtly defying the king, not a true threat to her, and Aegon would be an innocent pawn at worst. We could not hope to best them in battle, not with Laena Velaryon atop Vhagar. Daemon wants his daughter to marry the heir, wants his line to inherit, that much is obvious. He would give Baela to Jacaerys or Aegon, whichever was convenient, but he advocates for Rhaenyra out of spite for us."

"So now we fall upon Rhaenyra's mercy as you scolded me for hoping to do long ago?"

"...Perhaps we can prevent Daemon from exerting so much control, even if Viserys insists on defying the laws of gods and men. I fear his treatment of your children more than anyone on this island, even the princess."

The thought rankled Aemond. Uncle Daemon wasn't so scary. 

"Viserys sees what you see. Daemon is positioning himself as good-father to the king. He does not wish it. I do not think he will consent to Baela wedding Aegon or Jacaerys."

Grandfather didn't speak again, not audibly, and a guard was coming down the hall, so Aemond turned to leave. 

Was Uncle Daemon really doing something bad? Mother always said he was wicked, so that did make sense, but Lady Laena had been so kind… He was distracted as he walked, and it wasn't surprising that he ran into someone. 

"Prince Aemond!" Laena said with a laugh. "My, you've grown tall since I last saw you," she said, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. 

Lady Laena was as tall and regal as ever, her mother the Queen Who Never Was at her side. 

"My apologies, my lady," he said, averting his eyes. 

"What are you wandering around for?" she asked, sounding truly interested in what he might say. 

"I…" He faltered. "I was wondering where Rhaena and Baela were. Did they come with you?" 

"Oh! Yes. They landed with Lord Corlys not an hour ago. They're out in the courtyard with their cousins." She pointed down a short hallway. "Go join them. This whole event is liable to be stuffy and dull, anyway, I doubt the children need to be around for it."

Aemond went off in the direction that he was pointed, even if he didn't really want to see Jace or Luke. He'd rather stay with Laena and ask about Vhagar, but maybe he would get a chance to do that at dinner. 

He found where Baela, Rhaena, Jacaerys and Lucerys were gathered, and saw that even Helaena had joined them, though she was more interested in her embroidery than the boys and their play swordfight. 

"Do you think you could best me?" Jace called to him, boisterous. 

"I don't want to embarrass you, nephew," he japed back, sitting on a low wall halfway between his sister and Laena's daughters. 

Jacaerys flushed. "You can't embarrass me," he argued.

"Not with a stick instead of a sword, no," Aemond retorted. "I'm sure your mother would blame me if you got even dirtier before dinner, so let's not." 

That made the girls giggle and Jace look down at the smeer of mud on the knee of his trousers, grimacing to himself. "Come on, Luke, let's go get ready so father doesn't find out we got dirty," he said. 

"Did you just arrive?" Rhaena asked him. 

"Oh. An hour or two ago I suppose," he said, trying not to mumble. Mother said he mumbled, sometimes. 

They both looked taller than they had before. Rhaena's hair was longer, tied up in an elaborate knot at the back of her head. Baela had cut hers shorter since they'd left King's Landing for Driftmark. They were both staring at him, waiting for him to talk. That made him nervous. "I saw your mother and grandmother a moment ago. Did you -- uh, they all came on their dragons, didn't they? Mother didn't let Aegon or Helaena fly here," he managed to say. "But Daeron might have brought Tessarion…" 

Rhaena flushed, displeased. Why had he mentioned -- he hated talking. 

"I left Moondancer at Driftmark," Baela said, sounding bored. "She's not large enough to ride yet. How large is Tessarion, do you know?" 

"I haven't seen Tessarion since she was a hatchling," he said. "I expect she's not much smaller than Vermax, by now, Vermax is only a year older." 

"I heard she's beautiful," Baela said, sounding too interested to notice her sister's frigid discomfort. 

"The Blue Queen," Helaena interjected. "That's…well, I think that's what she'll be called," she added with an awkward trail off. "Aemond, we ought to get ready for dinner, too." 

"So should we," Rhaena agreed, tone short.

Dinner was boring. His father made some speech about how the Lords of Westeros had to accept Rhaenyra as his heir despite the traditions of their fathers. Most everyone seemed to shrug and nod over it, but Grandfather seemed irritated. 

Then he got around to talking about marriage, which might have been surprising, but Aemond remembered the conversations he'd heard his parents having over the last few months, so he wasn't shocked at all. 

"Princess Rhaenyra's mother Aemma was beloved to me and to the realm," Father said. "She was an Arryn. I think my son deserves a chance to know that kind of love. That is why when the prince comes of age, he will wed Lady Jeyne Arryn and assist her in her fledgling, yet steadfast rule of the Vale."

Mother was just up the table from him, jaw set tight. 

"And when my grandson, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon comes of age, he will wed my dear daughter Princess Helaena," he said. "We remain unified in this time of peace, and mean to create strong bonds with the other Great Houses."

Aemond peaked down at Uncle Daemon, who seemed angry. 

His attention was waning from his father's speech. "Lady Laena," he said. "How much does Vhagar eat?" he asked her, leaning forward slightly. 

She smiled, patient even as Mother looked at him admonishingly. "Quite a lot. We spend a good bit of money on sheep and goats." 

"You buy them?" 

"Oh, yes, otherwise the farmers would revolt!" she said with a laugh. "She sleeps quite a bit too." 

Aemond nodded. If he had a dragon like Vhagar, he wouldn't pay for anything from the smallfolk, but that would be rude to say while Mother listened. "And she's the biggest."

"Biggest and oldest," she said. "Vermithor is close in size, though." 

"No one can contend with Vhagar," Daemon said, narrowing his eyes at Aemond. "Not even the Bronze Fury." 

As if he would ever try to fight against Vhagar. "You like to learn about dragons, don't you?" Laena asked him, ignoring her husband. 

"They're our legacy," he said. "The Targaryens would be nothing without dragons." 

"Maybe so, but you don't need a dragon to be somebody. You're a prince," she said, voice going soft. 

"Lady Laena is wise," Mother said in agreement, leaning into the conversation and away from her father. "Dragons helped flee the Doom and conquer Westeros, but now…you have much to be proud of without it."

Aemond started going red. He was sure his nephews and brothers would hear mother trying to be so kind to him and mock him for it later. 

"Aemond? What are you doing?" Rhaena asked, clearly walking back from the library of Dragonstone with a scroll under her arm as he slipped out of the hallway towards the door. 

"Exploring."

She turned to follow him. "Where are you going?" 

"I told you, I'm exploring. Go back to bed," he said dismissively, walking down the sea-slick stone steps and heading down towards the Dragonmount. 

" You go back to bed," she bickered back. "If something happens to you under Aunt Rhaenyra's watch we'll all be in trouble with the Queen!" 

Aemond rolled his eyes. "Nothing is going to happen."

"Then where are you going?" she repeated, almost running to keep pace with him. 

"The Dragonmount. I want to look at Vermithor and Silverwing," he said, keeping his tone even despite his pounding heart. He just wanted to see it. There was nothing wrong with that. 

"Aemond, no one is allowed to just go look at Vermithor. He'll eat you in one bite and still be hungry for seconds," she said, breathless. 

"Then it's a good thing you're so close by," he said. "He won't have to go hungry."

Rhaena glared, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him in his tracks before the proper entrance. "It's dangerous ! Why would you --"

"Of course it's dangerous," he said with a scoff. "But you can't be afraid if you're going to claim a dragon. That's what all the histories say."

"Claim?" She was still holding onto his arm, round face shining in concern as realization dawned on her. "Don't do it!" 

"I'm going, Rhaena, stop being craven! Come with me or go away, but stop trying to stop me," he said, snatching his arm away. "No wonder you have no dragon, if you're so afraid of them!"

Tears started to form in her dark eyes and she shoved him towards the door. "Fine! Go get roasted! I hope they never find your body, Aemond Targaryen!" With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off, muttering to herself in hurt frustration. 

Aemond didn't have time to regret his decision, descending into the dark of the Dragonmount with nothing but his sputtering torch to light the way. 

A gout of flames startled him briefly as the bronze scales of Vermithor lit up in the dim light. He must have heard them fighting. Aemond stepped back, but a misplaced stone tile caught his foot, sending his torch scattering away as he fell, catching himself on his hands. 

He wasn't able to get up in time before the tail smashed into the stone ahead of him, sending him sliding deep into the pit in a torrent of broken rocks. He stumbled, a gnarled tree catching him across the face as the tail came out towards him again. 

"Vermithor, daor!" he said as his vision started going black, hot blood running down his cheeks. "Iykiri!"

The dragon stopped, considering him thoughtfully, his gigantic head coming down to Aemond's level. 

"Dohaeris, Vermithor," he said with his hand out, breathing heavily through the pain and the blood loss.

Chapter Text

"Must we go?" 

"It's Jace's wedding, of course we must go," Baela mocked her gently, doing a little spin in her dress. She had chosen something simple, easy to move in, how she liked things. If Baela could wear trousers every day and not just when she rode Moondancer, Rhaena thought she would. 

Rhaena's choice of a dress for the prince's wedding was a little more elaborate, all pink silk and embroidered seahorses, an homage to her grandfather. She wouldn't wear it for another two days, because there were festivities ahead, but she had taken to trying it on, as if it suddenly would stop fitting. 

They had not seen all of their cousins in nearly two years, since Aegon's wedding to Jeyne Arryn. To hear Rhaenyra tell it, he rather enjoyed life in the Vale, and Sunfyre liked the mountains. But to hear the serving girl tell it, Jeyne and Aegon competed more for the affection of the same women than they did each other. 

Before Aegon's wedding, it had been that disaster of a meeting on Dragonstone. She tried not to think about it too much. She'd run to find Uncle Laenor or Mother and tell them what had happened, and by the time they'd gotten back to the Dragonmount -- 

Well, Aemond had claimed Vermithor. 

The Queen had been furious. She'd even accused Rhaena of shoving Aemond into the dragon's maw herself, but once she'd calmed, she understood what they all did: his own desperate ambition to claim a dragon had cost him an eye. It didn't stop Rhaena from feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. Maybe if she hadn't pushed him... She'd avoided him at Aegon's wedding and other visits to the capitol, which hadn't been hard, because he spent all of his time studying and training, according to the gossip of the keep. 

And she envied him, of course, because he'd done what she wanted to do. The older she got, the more she felt her time had run out. They had been the ones without dragons and he had left her behind. Now she was alone.

Rhaena fiddling with a length of silver wire, twisting it around her loc decoratively. "Father is still angry you're not marrying Jace," she said, because that was obvious from the start. He'd wanted Baela to marry Rhaenyra's heir and become a Queen. 

"I wouldn't mind marrying Jace. He's sweet," she said. "But this is what Uncle Viserys wanted. Besides, Father isn't here, is he?" 

Indeed, Father wasn't. Nor was Grandfather Corlys, nor Uncle Laenor. They were all at sea, fighting the pirates trying to claim the Stepstones, as they had been for some months. Before they'd left, Uncle Laenor had relinquished his right to Driftmark, saying it ought to pass to Laena. He would be King Consort, he did not also need Driftmark, nor did his sons. 

Rhaena expected the rumors about Harwin Strong had more to do with it than anything, and her grandmother's desire to keep Laena from running off to burn pirates too. Now Laena was Lady of Driftmark and Baela would follow in her footsteps, unless she married someone who inherited something better. 

"I couldn't be seen to support my niece's ascension to the throne and then ignore my eldest daughter's right to inherit," Father had said, though he didn't seem fully pleased by it. "They would skewer me as a hypocrite, and they want any excuse they can find to remove me from my brother's council."

Grandmother was more likely to skewer him than anyone on the small council, Rhaena thought. 

"Sisters!" Alysar called, bursting into their room. He was six and a whirlwind. He attached himself to Rhaena's leg before she could react. "Look, Mother made me wear this itchy outfit," he said. "It's got Starburn on it," he added, pointing to the embroidered dragon on his chest.

"You look very handsome. You had better not get it messy playing with cousin Joffrey again," Baela told him. "Messing up your formal clothes a second time is when Mother feeds you to Grandma Vhagar." 

Alysar gasped, cowering behind Rhaena theatrically. "Don't let them, Rhaena!"

"I don't know, Alysar, those are the rules…" 

He fled from the room shouting for Mother, who came in to scold them for scaring him, even if she couldn't help but giggle at it. 

The wedding wasn't as big as Aegon's, but Rhaena was still enjoying the festivities. They'd sat through a tourney. Baela enjoyed the melee (Ser Harwin won), but Rhaena preferred the joust. They'd both shed slight tears when Jace had fallen to Gwayne Hightower, but Gwayne was quickly unseated by his nephew Daeron, who was finally old enough for the lists and thrilled about it, to hear Helaena tell it. She thought maybe his benevolent uncle had given him an easy win. 

"Aemond is next," Princess Helaena said, clapping for her brother as the black horse galloped into view.

His helmet had a bronze shine to it, a reminder of the dragon he had sacrificed an eye to claim. Daeron's armor was blue and green and beautiful. He fell in the tilt against his elder brother. 

Aemond toppled the other knights with ease, one after the other. The audience gasped and cheered as the prince claimed victory after victory. Rhaena snatched Baela's hand after a particularly hard tilt threatened to unseat him, but he remained on his horse. 

"He prevails," Helaena said, before the match was even done. 

"We should really get Helaena to bet on the lists," Baela joked. 

"We could make some coin," she agreed, watching as Aemond dismounted, his arm wrenched in the air in victory. 

He removed his helmet, passing it to a squire without looking. His hair fell nearly to his waist, now. He had grown tall and lean since she'd last seen him, no more vestiges of baby fat left on his face, under the black leather patch that obscured his scarred eye. 

The squire handed him something, and he moved towards the stands. His eye met Rhaena's, who almost gasped at the sudden eye contact. His smirk was infuriatingly smug as he sauntered over. 

"The Queen of Love and Beauty," he declared in a bombastic voice, a crown of roses laid in Rhaena's lap. 

Clearly, this was a mistake. He's meant to hand it to Baela, certainly. Her face burned as she took the crown into her hands. The green vines wrapped around black-tipped roses and she graciously placed it atop her head, forcing a smile. 

Her heart pounded and she tried to avoid his gaze as he moved out of her space, saying nothing else to her as he returned to his horse. 

"It doesn't really match the dress," she lamented anxiously, fiddling with the crown of roses as she dressed for the wedding. 

"You don't have to wear it…it's not as though you're engaged to Aemond," Baela said, laughing at the thought. "Ugh, can you imagine? He's so arrogant now." 

Rhaena laughed, too, but didn't feel it too deeply when she did. "He is," she agreed truthfully. 

"Jacaerys says he thinks he's untouchable now that he has Vermithor." 

"I suppose he is," she said. "In a way."

Baela hummed, finishing securing her hair underneath a band of hammered silver. "Wear it to avoid insulting the prince, I suppose, if you're so concerned." 

"You're more of a queen of love and beauty than I am," she said as she adjusted the flowers. 

Baela looked so much like their mother, more with every passing year, while Rhaena felt skinny and awkward in comparison. It didn't help that her father ignored her, talking about Baela's possible marriage matches and never hers. "Don't say such things. Anyway, I wouldn't want such an honor from Aemond . Although, Father would be furious."

"He would, wouldn't he?" Father held no love for Alicent Hightower's children, and the thought did make her smirk a little. She wished he was at the wedding, she'd love to see him squirm at the notion of her getting attention from the Prince, even if it was just his idea of a joke. 

They both laughed, disrupted when Mother came in to walk down to the wedding with them. 

"You know, a knight is meant to name his intended as Queen of Love and Beauty," Mother said, frowning. "Or use it as some sort of proclamation for that lady."

"I don't think Aemond meant anything by it," she said, because of course he wouldn't have any intentions like that towards her. She was just Rhaena, with no dragon and nothing to inherit. She wasn't bold and beautiful like her sister, she wasn't prophetic and mysterious like Helaena, she wasn't a powerful warrior like her mother or grandmother… She was just Rhaena. No one that anyone needed to look twice at. 

Her mother was watching her, shrewd insight reflecting in her eyes. "Would you want it to mean something?" 

Rhaena laughed, a queer sort of nervousness bubbling up in her. "Surely not." 

Helaena made a lovely bride but clearly loathed the focus everyone had on her. Baela's solution was to drag Rhaena onto the dance floor so not everyone was jockeying to dance with the future queen all at once. 

Helaena shot them a grateful little smile as Jacaerys twirled her away. 

Rhaena could do that: dance with these puffed up knights and lordlings just to spare Helaena the attention. She knew her cousin didn't particularly like being touched by strangers, and it was taking quite a bit of wine to keep her from swatting away unfamiliar hands. It was not beneath anyone's notice that she had primarily danced with Jacaerys, Aemond, Aegon and Daeron, though she had endured enough that no one would feel slighted. 

They were both relieved, though, to see Helaena's grandfather cut in, giving her a much-needed reprieve from the strangers in the hall. Baela snagged Daeron's attention after that. 

"A dance, my lady?" a new voice asked.

Rhaena's skirts twirled as she spun to face Price Aemond, her face immediately going hot. "Of course, my prince," she said, suddenly utterly self-conscious of the roses she had wound into her hair. Maybe now she could find out what he had meant by the whole thing? 

"You grow more lovely with each passing year," he said. 

"I almost believe you," she shot back. 

The other dancers whirled around them and she felt as though they were standing still in the middle of it, a beacon of attention. His hand burned against her, trapping her as they made a circle. 

"You think I speak dishonestly, my lady?" he asked, playing at being offended by her jab. He seemed nearly incapable of sounding sincere anymore, so far removed from the lonely little boy he had been. 

"I think you mock me," she agreed, squeezing his hand a little as she glared. 

"Rhaena…" he said, voice dropping low. "It's insulting that you think me capable of such cruelty."

She sniffed, knowing she sounded haughty. "So what did you intend, then? If you're not teasing me." 

"Is it so impossible to believe I wish to be friends?"  

Flushing, she clenched and relaxed her jaw for a moment. "Why would you?" The prince had grown up tall and handsome, more resembling her father than his own. He'd become a powerful warrior and dragonrider. And she had shoved him towards that fate and declared she hoped he died . …Maybe she was just feeling sorry for her own childishness for no reason. Maybe he truly wanted to be her friend. 

"I told you, you're lovely, like your mother --" 

"Allow me to cut in," a voice disrupted. 

"Uncle! We did not expect you to join the festivities!" Aemond said with a grin. He dropped his hand from Rhaena's waist, kissing the hand he still held, watching Daemon the whole time. 

She felt a flush of pleasure at her father's obvious irritation as he took her hands. "You've returned," she said. "Is Grandfather back too?" 

"We all decided we couldn't miss darling Jace's nuptials. What did the Prince want?" 

"Just to talk. We're friends," she lied through her teeth. 

Father scowled. "I know what he did," he said. "I hope you don't think he meant that as anything other than a slight towards me. Mocking my daughter because he's displeased with me."

Rhaena's heart caught in her chest for a moment. "What do you mean? Why would Aemond be displeased with you?" And what would that have to do with her? 

"Before I left for the Stepstones, I had been helping his father make him a marriage match," he said. "Lord Baratheon's unwed daughters. He dislikes our choice, so he seeks to bring shame to it."

Humiliation tightened at her throat. "I doubt that has anything to do with me, Father. Aemond and I have always gotten along, since we were children. Perhaps you never noticed."

Daemon glared, taking her by the chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. "Stay away from that one-eyed cunt. I know I have been negligent of my fatherly duties at times, but I will find you a worthy match soon."

"You will?" she asked, mortified and hopeful and angry all at the same time, drinking in her father's attention. 

"A high lord of sense and power," he agreed, spinning her. "I swear it." To seal the promise, he kissed her forehead and she left the dance floor to rejoin her sister. 

"Dreadful company," Baela said with a snort, handing her wine. 

"Do you -- do you think Aemond only named me Queen of Love and Beauty to anger Father?" she asked softly, mortified at how hurtful the thought was. 

"I think father tends to think things are always about him even when they aren't," Baela said, but that wasn't a no . 

She stood on the balcony overlooking the city, letting the cool air wake her from her wine-fatigued haze. She felt pulled in a million directions over nothing at all. Her father was being absurd, battling ghosts and inventing reasons to be angry. 

But maybe he was right. Maybe Aemond thought she was an easy target for mockery, an easy way to anger his uncle, something to toy with. Maybe this was his vengeance for doubting him on Dragonstone as children. 

Whatever it was, it made her angry. 

"Lady Rhaena…" 

"You again?" she snapped sharply, not turning to look at the Prince as he stepped up behind her. 

"What precisely have I done to offend you?" 

"I don't know. Exist?" she offered, tone bitter. 

That got a chuckle out of him, dark and surprised. "Do you still resent me? For doing what you weren't brave enough to do?" 

Rhaena wheeled around and shoved him back, though not with any real strength behind it. "I resent you for making a public spectacle of me during this entire proceeding as some perverse way to anger my father!" 

Aemond tilted his head. "That's what you think? Or that's what he told you?" 

"Do you have the means to prove him wrong?" 

"Does angering your father truly disgust you so?" he asked, tone almost innocent as he considered her through one shrewd, dark eye. 

Rhaena's irritation and hurt faltered. The truth was she did like the idea of angering her father. She didn't have to admit it for him to read the truth on her face. 

"It's merely a benefit," he said slowly. "Not my entire purpose." 

She clung to her anger, not allowing him to disarm her. "You're betrothed."

He flushed, caught in a trap he hadn't expected. "Not officially. We have not ventured to the Stormlands to make that offer to Lord Baratheon, thank the gods."

"So what, I am to fall into your arms so you might forsake the marriage match my father organized for you? You believe me so starved for affection from my father that you can waltz in here and sweep me off my feet with hollow gestures?" she asked. She had often dreamed of romance: of handsome princes in love with her and willing to fight for her hand. She had read more than enough stories about just that. 

This was not that. 

"You're infuriating," he ground out.

"As are you, my Prince." 

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily from the heat of their own anger, despite the cool night. 

Aemond turned on his heel and stormed off without another word, and when Rhaena returned to the wedding he was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

"If we mean to appeal to the northerners, perhaps a Stark-Targaryen match is in order," Uncle Daemon was saying over dinner, even though Mother said she hated discussing politics during meals. 

"Cregan Stark has an heir already," Father said. 

"Yes, but winter is harsh. Northerners have big families for a reason. without a spare, winter can decimate an entire line," he said. "And he already had that nastiness with his uncle."

Father nodded. "So we offer him a second wife so that he might remember us as friends? Not a bad thought. A second wife can add immeasurable value to a life," Father said, patting Mother's hand as she gritted a smile. "We both know something of that, I think. Why not Baela?" 

"The North is no place for a dragonrider," he said, "and Baela stays close to her mother and grandmother. Driftmark is her home." His eyes slid over Helaena to where Aemond was sipping wine, pretending to only half listen, and his smirk was undeniable. 

"Then you mean to send Rhaena?" Jacaerys asked, filling the silence. After wedding Helaena, he had taken up residency in King's Landing, training amongst gold cloaks. 

Aemond knew what he truly was: a hostage to Mother's peace. No lord who supported Rhaenyra's claim to inheritance could threaten the life of Aegon or Aemond without Jacaerys being at risk, too. 

And this way, he got to spend time with that strong mentor of his. 

Aemond did not straighten or sharpen at the mention of Daemon's girl, but he still listened closer. They would hide their dragonless shame far away to the north, would they?

"I think so," Daemon agreed. 

"Aemond or Jace could convey her. The North is no place for a dragonrider, but a lightly defended escort north is no way for a lady to travel," Father said. "Cregan is not much older than either of them. A wife is one thing, but a brother in arms can prevent wars."

Was he thinking of grandfather Otto or his own brother, Aemond wondered, before his mind obsessively turned back to Rhaena. 

He had not seen Lady Rhaena since Helaena's wedding nearly a year ago. She had been lovely that night. Lovelier, clearly, than she truly knew. He saw her mother in her, but when she bared her teeth and snapped, she was all Daemon. 

Gods. 

He finished dinner without speaking much, walking with Helaena and Jacaerys towards their chambers. "She'll never find a dragon in the north," Helaena said, frowning. 

"Will she find a dragon here?" he asked, knowing better than anyone that he ought to listen to his sister's words with care. It had cost him an eye last time he'd disregarded her. 

"A sheep," she said. Then she prodded his chest. "To match a pig." 

Aemond could not sleep. He thought about slipping away, to the brothel, to the easy arms of his favorite girl, where things were simple. 

Instead, he drank alone. 

When he'd been a child he'd taken fancy to Rhaena, and he could admit it. Now that they were grown, it was more complicated. They were angry at each other any time they breathed near the other. 

What would he have done if Rhaena had blushed prettily and accepted his proclamation of her as the Queen of Love and Beauty? If she hadn't breathed fire at him for the thoughtless gesture? 

Wine-drunk and bitter, he thought he'd have taken her for himself that night, but a sober part of Aemond knew he would hardly care for her at all if she didn't have fangs. 

He fell asleep sitting up, feet kicked up on a table and wine cup loosely gripped in his hand. 

When he awoke, fuzzy from the drink, he almost forgot the source of his moroseness, until he collided with Daemon on his way to the family dining hall. "Pardon me, Nephew, I know it's easy to not see in your condition," he said, patting him on the shoulder. 

"And I know at your age you can't move as quickly as you used to," he jabbed. 

"The raven has been sent to Laena about the match. I'm sure she'll approve. The North is vast. It's wise to secure their loyalty, don't you think?" 

Aemond tilted his head. "Just so," he agreed, knowing that his uncle meant to provide his temper. 

"I must compose the raven to send to Lord Cregan after lunch.  Would you prefer to be part of Rhaena's escort or should Jacaerys have that honor?" 

"I would love to see the north."

"Certainly, it is a wonder." 

Hours later, he leaned out of the window of a particularly tall tower, crossbow aimed at the sky. A raven took off from the rookery and he took fire at it, sending it plummeting out of sight. 

"What are you doing here?" Lord Lyonel asked him. 

"Just trying to ascertain if a storm is rolling through," he lied, bow poorly hidden behind his back, as he pivoted around the rotund Hand and back down into the Red Keep. 

He was not sure what had compelled him forward so resolutely, but he knew that he had no interest in allowing that aged cunt Daemon send the blood of Old Valyria north to hide in the snow. He was not ready to admit to himself why or what that meant. 

Indeed, a storm rolled through that night, and he donned a waxed outer cloak as he saddled Vermithor alone. Vermithor was too large for the dragon pit, so he had privacy to ready himself for the flight to Driftmark. 

It wasn't a particularly long flight, but he had to leave Vermithor on one of the remote beaches, empty of the crabbers and fisherman that usually dotted the shores, heading up to the keep that the Velaryons called home on foot, obscured by the rain. 

He wasn't sure where Baela or Rhaena slept, or even if they had their own rooms, so he needed to move carefully to avoid being caught by the sister or the grandsire and sent home humiliated. 

He climbed up the side of the keep, using loose stones and ivy as handholds, guessing that the softly lit window near the top might be the one he was looking for. He was almost out of breath when he got to the balcony overlooking the sea, trying to crouch out of sight as he looked into the sea glass window. 

Rhaena was there, but she was talking to her little brother. He stood enough to be seen and she met his eye over the boy's shoulder. Her eyes widened but she regained her composure for the boy, sending him away and latching the door behind him before she opened up the window. " What are you doing here?" 

"Visiting," Aemond said, trying to smile. 

" Why?!" 

Now he didn't know what to say. He just sat down on the cold stone, listening to the ocean at his back and looking up at her, expectant. "Think for a moment."

Rhaena scowled, but she sat down next to him, smoothing her dressing gown and letting her leg brush against his. "I suppose you heard about the King's new proposed betrothal." 

He nodded. 

She scoffed. "What do you want, Aemond, to marry me yourself?" 

He was biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that it was painful, trying to clear his mind. What was there to gain from admitting that he wanted the girl for himself? That it was madness to him that they hadn't been betrothed sooner? He was owed something greater than some stormland lady. "And what? You want to go north?" 

"You didn't answer my question."

"It depends on you answering mine."

Rhaena made a wordless groan of frustration. "Do you always have to be so difficult to talk to?" she hissed. "It's infuriating," she said, his own words from so long ago shot back at him. 

"Yes," he said, switching to High Valyrian. "Now answer."

She rolled her eyes, getting up primed to storm off and leave him out in the cold. He followed her to his feet, reaching out to take her wrist. Wheeling around, the plain anger on her face melted into shock as he pulled her into him and kissed her, tasting lemons and sweetness.

In a fit of boldness, she grabbed him firmly by the hair as she returned the kiss, allowing him to lick into her mouth as he backed her against the wall, hands trailing down her sides.

"It's too late," she whispered as he kissed her neck. "Father already sent word."

"No it isn't. I felled the raven," he whispered into her collar. 

She pulled him back by his hair to look her in the eye, saying nothing but considering him with thoughtful shock before she kissed him once more. "Why?" she finally murmured, an inch away from his mouth as she caught her breath. 

"Is it not obvious?" 

Her giggle was shrill and nervous as he kissed a path up her neck, finding a spot behind her ear to bite gently before he pressed his nose into her hair, smelling the floral scent of whatever she had rubbed into her hair as she'd prepared for bed. 

"Obvious or no, I would like to hear you say it." 

"I want you for myself," he managed to choke out, voice dropping into a growl. 

"...What do we do?" she whispered, captivated. 

"I'll speak with Mother. And perhaps you talk to your own mother," he said. "If they won't consent, there are other ways I can make you my wife."

As realization took her, her cheeks darkened in embarrassment as she looked away. "Father would kill you."

"He could try," he boasted, tilting her face towards him for another kiss. "I should go. I'll return soon."

Breathless, she nodded, watching him clamber down the side of the keep. Rhaena's window remained lit until Driftmark had receded into nothing in the inky blackness of the storm darkened sky.

"Mother, we need to --" he announced, allowing himself into his mother's chambers without knocking, stopping when he saw her pouring tea for Laena Velaryon. 

"Prince Aemond!" she said with a grin. "Always good to see you. How is Vermithor?" 

"Well. Too large for the dragonpit and frequently flies himself to Dragonstone to visit Silverwing," he said, reflecting for a moment on the similarities between himself and his dragon, not for the first time. He too found himself preoccupied with a silver woman across the sea. "And Vhagar?" he asked, his mother's glare compelling him to politeness. 

"Same as ever. Enjoying her time by the sea," she said. "She keeps a close watch on the island."

To Aemond, that felt almost threateningly pointed. Had Vhagar spotted Vermithor when he visited? 

"I'll find you after we have our tea, all right darling?" Mother said, and he nodded and excused himself silently. 

"What is it that's so urgent?" Mother asked as she let herself into his chambers, shutting the door behind her. "You have little and less time for your mother the older you get, I must assume you bursting into my chambers means you want something from me."

Aemond glared at her attempt to make him feel sheepish. "I do have a favor to ask of you."

She sat down in a chair across from him, picking at her fingernails and she listened. Father's health had grown poorer and poorer in the last few months and Mother had grown increasingly anxious as a result. There was nothing for it, he thought. "Ask it and I will do what I can."

"I want out of my engagement with the Baratheon girl," he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

It took her a moment to recover from that one, blinking and frowning. "I see. I understand marrying someone sight unseen is nerve wracking, Aemond, but --"

"It's not that. I want to marry someone else."

Mother's expression softened. His feelings would win her over, he knew. "Oh."

"I want to be free to wed Rhaena. Give the Baratheon girl Daeron or Lucerys to make up for the insult, but allow me this."

Her lips thinned. "Daemon will prove an obstacle. He is adamant my children and his not mix."

Aemond snorted. "Daemon will do as his King bids and the King will do as his wife bids. Father will say yes." 

She nodded, unable to lie about his assertion. "And…this is a sentiment shared by Lady Rhaena?" 

He didn't want to ask her what she thought of him; if she thought he was going to force some poor distressed girl to marry him. Maybe he would, if it came to that. "Yes. I…spoke with her last night."

She took his hand in hers, choosing to ignore that confession and what it could imply. "Lord Borros will take offense, understand, but the man is a lout and a fool. I will be happy to be rid of him," she confessed with a smile that was half mischief and half affection. "Lady Rhaena is a good choice."

He nodded. "Thank you, Mother." 

Perhaps his mother's approval had made him bold. Three nights later, he found himself at Rhaena's balcony once again, standing on the edge and gesturing for her to come out. "Did you speak to your mother?" he asked, having heard nothing from anyone about it. 

"Yes. She worries Father will be…resistant," she said. "What are you doing? Come here." 

"You come here," he said, stepping backwards so he was standing in the stirrups of Vermithor's saddle, extending a hand towards her. 

"Where are we going?" she asked, a glimpse of the shy little girl she had been, folding her arms over her chest and eying the hovering dragon warily. 

"Just to the cliffside," he promised. "Have you ridden before?"

"I've been on Vhagar," she said, finally taking his hand and making the careful step over, settling behind him on the saddle and tightening a fist on his waist. "We had better hurry, someone will see him." 

It was a short flight to the grassy cliffs on the side of the keep, where they could hear the waves but wouldn't be impacted by the ocean. Vermithor wandered somewhere to lie down and Rhaena sat in the grass. 

Seized by impulse, Aemond rested his head in her lap. He focused on the sensation of the silken purple dressing gown beneath him and the scent of rosewater and took a breath, wrapping an arm around her back as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"This is madness," she said softly. 

"Is it?" 

"No one has ever chosen me before," she added, an edge of vulnerability in her voice as she began braiding a section of his hair. 

"All the better for me," he said as his eye closed. He shoved his patch aside, letting the scarred skin around his eye breathe for a moment, jolting slightly when he felt a warm hand tracing the skin. 

"I shouldn't have let you go down there alone," she said, almost too softly to hear. 

"Why? Do you want a matching scar?" he asked. "I think you'd look quite fetching with a ruby instead of an eye." 

He opened his eye to see her scowling down at him, unswayed by his joke. "Some things are fated, they tell me. Stop living in the past." He certainly had gained too much at the cost of one eye to truly dwell on whether or not her unkindness when they were children was at fault. She had been less cruel than the Velaryon boys or his own brother. 

She relaxed into the silent, peaceful exercise of simply sitting and listening to the sea break against the rocks. "Do you ever think about leaving it all behind?" she asked eventually. 

"Like your mother and father did? Go to Pentos, delight the patriars with dragonfire?" 

"Maybe. Don't sound so skeptical." 

"I have a duty to my family." 

"So what, you'll go be a gold cloak like my father was?" she asked. 

"Perhaps. Or serve on the council." 

"You would serve Rhaenyra when she's queen?" 

He supposed he hadn't really thought of it. Maybe he'd been imagining Father would come to some sense and restore the laws of the land, putting Aegon on the throne he desperately didn't want. "I don't think she'd have me."

"She might," she said. "Or you could learn to sail and serve Grandfather." 

Aemond could imagine himself cutting quite a heroic figure in the Stepstones fighting pirates while Vermithor scorched fleets in his wake. "Hm." 

A rustling, then a gasp, and then the cool air of Valyrian steel at his neck. He didn't need to open his eye to see who had happened upon them in their privacy. "Thank you for joining us, Uncle Daemon." 

"What is it you think you're doing?" 

"Spending time with my intended," he said, finally glancing up the length of Dark Sister to look at his uncle, who was clearly taut with barely-concealed rage. 

"Intended? I've agreed to no such madness," he scoff, sheathing his sword. "Rhaena, come." 

Rhaena hesitated, but stayed sitting. "I'm doing nothing wrong." 

"It's near midnight and you're out in the wilderness with One-Eye. How is that not wrong?" he shot back, tone scathing. 

"Father. Mother has spoken to you about what the King wants."

"What his bitch wife wants, you mean." 

"Does it matter whom?" she questioned, her grip tightening on Aemond's shoulder, as if she sensed his near-reaction to the insult. "Forget the King and Queen entirely, and maybe think about what I would like for my future for a moment, then. For the first time in my life, do something unselfish for your least favorite child." 

Prince Daemon glared. "You've poisoned her against me," he said to Aemond. 

"You say that as if you made it difficult." 

"Get up."

Aemond didn't move, and neither did Rhaena.

"If I consent to this idiocy, will you come back to the keep with me?" Daemon asked Rhaena directly, finding himself for the first time in his life forced to bend. 

Rhaena sighed. "Fine." 

"And no more late night visits. You can be chaperoned like any other royal engagement," the prince said hastily as Aemond finally got up, helping Rhaena to her feet as he did. 

They exchanged a smirk as Aemond kissed her hand and gave Daemon a mocking bow before he departed to find Vermithor and fly back to the capitol.

Chapter Text

"Do you intend to kill my daughter? Is that your grand plan?" Father raged, a performance that a mummer would be envious of. 

"Father," she said, exasperated both by her exhaustion and his histrionics. 

"That was foolish," he said, though his demeanor did calm. "Silverwing is one of our oldest dragons. Trying to claim her was reckless. More of his influence I'm sure."

Aemond was pinching the bridge of his nose, frustration plain on his face as the maester slathered her burns with some stinging ointment. "It was a worthwhile theory," he said. "Vermithor and Silverwing are a mated pair --"

"And they're keenly aware of the marriage politics of their riders, yes," Father said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Perhaps being a mated pair would have worked."

"Father!" she balked, face feeling hot. "Stop the dramatics. I'm fine. I'm a woman grown. If I wish to die trying to claim a dragon, so be it." 

"Daemon, darling, she's perfectly safe," Mother said, pulling on Daemon's arm. She would yell at Rhaena later, once they'd left Dragonstone and there were no non-family members to be scandalized by it. 

Only because of Aemond's intervention , she thought. She kept it to herself just to avoid her father's continued griping, but it was Aemond who recognized the body language of a dragon displeased with their direction. She had practiced all the right words, she had thought about the movements and the touch and she had steeled her nerves and it still hadn't been enough. Covertly, she wiped her tears away. Aemond had pulled her out of the Dragonmount despite her protests that she needed just a moment longer. 

"We'll be heading back to Driftmark before lunch," Father said. With that, he and Mother left them alone. 

They had come to Dragonstone to celebrate little Joffrey's birthday, and it had seemed the perfect opportunity to try once more. "I'm sorry I failed."

"It is not an offense you need to atone for, Rhaena," he said. "I am glad you weren't more seriously burned." 

The touch of dragonfire on her wrist still stung. 

He touched her shoulder gently, waiting uneasily for the maester to awkwardly excuse himself as well, leaving them alone in the guest chamber Rhaena had claimed. Once they were alone, he coaxed her to her feet and tilted up her chin for a kiss. 

Wrapping her uninjured arm around his back, she pulled him in a little closer, returning the kiss and forgetting the pain of her hand for a moment. 

"Rhaena!" someone called, bursting into the room without knocking. 

"Baela!" she snapped, pulling back from the ruined moment as her sister slammed the door behind her. 

"Forgive me, my Prince," she said facetiously, "I had heard my twin was hideously burned and deformed. Clearly that is the case."

Rhaena glared. "Gods, Baela, you're being humiliating."

Her sister cackled. "Let me see it and then I can leave you to your indecency."

Rhaena stepped away and stuck out her bandaged arm for her sister's inspection. "Satisfied?" 

"Of course not, I just had to witness Aemond One-Eye with his tongue in my sister's mouth," she joked. "Does it hurt dreadfully?" 

"A bit." 

"Hm. I am now satisfied," she announced. "Good day to you, my Prince," she said with a curtsy, winking at Rhaena and bouncing off. 

Her face burned. "I apologize for my sister. She is…embarrassing."

"You've met Aegon," he said. "I'm quite used to it." 

However, he did not move to kiss her again and it felt as though the tension had been truly squandered. Damn that Baela. "...So I remain dragonless." 

"For now," Aemond said. "Perhaps you could learn to sail, fight pirates with your grandfather."

Rhaena tried to picture herself in trousers wielding a sword at Aemond's side, and it felt wrong. "I am more suited to embroidery and reading, Aemond. I am not much interested in being a warrior." 

"Then why a dragon?" 

"I want to feel…complete," she said as they walked out of her chambers and through the winding halls of Dragonstone. She risked impropriety and took his hand, which seemed to please him in a way he didn't verbalize. "Though perhaps being a princess is enough."

They both knew she wasn't being fully honest, but neither said it. 

"Is it true his false eye is made of sapphire?" Baela asked as they wandered the keep.

Her burn was nearly healed, a fortnight later, but it would likely scar. "Yes." 

"Is it not strange to…" Baela trailed off, with a blush and a giggle. "Do you kiss him with the eyepatch off? Is it like he's staring at you the whole time?"

Rhaena shoved her sister, who dodged and laughed. "Don't be unkind. I don't notice, my eyes are closed." Honestly, she enjoyed the way it looked. He was dashing and mysterious in the eye patch, or so he'd like people to believe, and underneath it was brilliant and sparkling. "Usually thinking about different things when we're doing that."

"Is he a good kisser?" 

Rhaena had only ever kissed one boy before this, but she was confident when she nodded. "Forceful, but in a good way." 

"And if it turns into a bad way I'll gut him," her sister said. 

"Rhaena! A raven for you!" Alysar said, skipping down the hallway with the scroll clutched in his hand. "I think it's from Aemond," he teased. 

The green three headed dragon seal was a giveaway that it was Aemond. 

She turned from her siblings to read, her heart jolting pleasurably in her chest. 

My lady, 

Implore with your mother to allow you to make a trip to the Vale with me to visit Prince Aegon. Have them send a chaperone of their choosing with you if it brings them comfort. My uncle Gwayne will be with us, and Daeron too. 

Your Aemond. 

"You'd be gone for weeks," Mother said, sounding nervous. 

"I'd love to see the Vale," she said. "You are the ones saying we had to delay the wedding some months to avoid insulting the Baratheons, otherwise I wouldn't even need your permission. Send Baela with me."

"No," Daemon said. "A proper escort. Not your sister who will enable your mischief."

"Like who? Not Qarl, surely," she said, shivering at the thought of being stuck on the road for weeks with Qarl Correy, who was by her estimation the dumbest man who ever lived. Maybe that was uncharitable. Laenor liked him. 

"No. A knight of the Kingsguard, as befitting a prince. And Rhaenyra can likely spare Lucerys. He needs seasoning." 

Harwin Strong would not have been her first choice for escort, to be sure. He was likely to be far keener to any perceived indiscretions or rule-bending than Uncle Laenor or someone like that. 

Luke was riding beside her, keeping Harwin on the far end of their little travel party. 

Apparently the Queen had similarly insisted a knight of the Kingsguard escort them, and Ser Criston Cole was glaring back at Harwin periodically but mostly staying near the front with Prince Daeron and Ser Gwayne, who was funny and charming enough to puncture the tension. 

"What is all this about?" she asked Aemond as they came to their first inn of the trip. 

"A visit to my brother," he said. "To tell him the good news of our engagement and to see the Eyrie. I hear it's quite the castle."

"So they say," she said.

"Aegon invited us to visit, but did not give a specific reason. I assume he just missed us terribly, and I thought it a good excuse to get you away from your father." 

That was good enough for her, she thought. 

She was allowed her own personal room in the inn, with the door locked and Harwin on the other side of what he had emphasized was a fairly thin wall. He was sharing with Luke, while Aemond and Daeron took a room on the ground floor and Criston and Gwayne were across the hall. 

She had packed a few books to read, stories she was familiar and comfortable with. She wished Baela had come with her, but their traveling party was already excessive as it was and Father was likely right that she would not have discouraged misbehavior. 

As she curled around her book, the candle next to her guttering low, she heard the tapping on her window, startling to see Aemond climbing in. 

"You're not supposed to be here," she said, even as she moved to give him a spot next to her on the bed. Marking her spot in the book, she set it aside and stretched out as he laid down. "Ser Harwin will be quite angry."

"If they wanted to protect your virtue, they'd have sent fewer men who had defiled princesses in secret," he joked. 

She swatted him. "I do hope you don't have designs to defile me on this trip, my Prince," she said, even as he pinned her to the mattress and kissed down her neck. "I am a lady ." 

"I will do no such thing," he said, unconvincing as his hand trailed down her side. "Difficult though it might be, I must resist. Mother said if we'd gotten married too quickly the whole realm would've assumed you were with child. She did not want to risk the gossip." 

Rhaena kissed him, running a hand through his hair as he gripped her thigh through the thin material of her dressing gown. She felt the burning desire deep in her gut, but knew she had to shove it aside. 

"Some roadside inn in the crownlands is hardly worthy of my lady," he said in her ear, as if echoing her own thoughts. 

"Oh? What am I worthy of?"

He was almost breathless. "Silk, roses, whatever you'd like." 

That made her giggle. "You make it difficult to resist, unworthy location or no," she said between kisses that grew more heated. "But I do not want you to get in trouble with our protectors." 

"If you can stay quiet, we can leave your virtue intact and still…" he suggested. 

Cheeks burning as she fought to catch her breath, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked up at him. She found herself struck by the softness that had taken over his features. Normally he looked as hard as stone, but without his eye patch, with color high in his cheeks, he still looked like a sweet boy in the low light. "What are you suggesting?" 

"Just a taste," he said, raising an eyebrow. 

Curious of what he could possibly mean and suddenly unable to form words, Rhaena nodded and watched curiously as he trailed kisses down her body, settling between her thighs and shoving her dressing gown up, pushing aside her small clothes. 

Immediately, she gasped, and remembered her promise to stay quiet, pressing the feather pillow over her face to muffle herself.

As much as Rhaena would have loved it, their trip to the Vale did not feature much more alone time. Only one or two nights were they able to find the right amount of solitude, and usually only for a brief spell. 

But the Eyrie rose above them in a dramatic spire and she was relieved at the sight of it, saddle sore and exhausted. 

Prince Aegon greeted them, looking happy as he embraced his brothers. Daeron was pleased at it but Aemond was obviously only just tolerating it. "Glad to see it. And oh… Lady Rhaena, you have grown," he said with a note of implication in his voice. "I see why my brother forsook his engagement." 

Rhaena tried not to blush. "Thank you, my Prince." 

"You dog, Aemond," he said, shoving his brother and leading them deeper into the castle. "Lady Jeyne will see you soon."

"See us?" Rhaena asked, looking at Luke curiously. 

He had no more answers than she did. 

"I suddenly get the feeling my brother didn't actually invite us here socially," Aemond said, voice low. 

Ser Cole turned with a furrowed brow. "I am getting that sense too, Prince Aemond. Very strange. You're sure his letter said nothing out of place?"

"Simply invited Daeron and I to visit the Eyrie at our earliest convenience," he said. "Nothing out of sorts. It would be so like Aegon to omit anything of importance and focus on himself."

Aegon reappeared through a dark wood door, waving them in where Lady Jeyne was waiting on a chair of tangled wood, a lady just a step behind her and Aegon joining her. "My brothers, my lady."

Jeyne Arryn was cousin to Rhaenyra's mother, and Rhaena could almost see some of her Aunt in the set of the lady's jaw. "You did not bring your dragons. But no mind, it will not take so long to go fetch them."

Rhaena tilted her head, listening intent and slowly piecing together what was happening. 

"There is a wild dragon that has made its home here in the Vale," she said with no further preamble. "It's larger than Sunfyre, so Aegon thought the best defensive action would be if Vermithor and Tessarion joined Sunfyre on the mountain and drove the beast off or eliminated it. My farmers call it Sheepstealer."

A wild dragon , Rhaena thought with unmasked amazement. 

"I see, Lady Jeyne…if Aegon had conveyed such a message in writing, we might have saved you some time and flown here. However, allow us a few nights of your hospitality and we will return to King's Landing and fly back to do as you ask," Aemond said, diplomatic but snide as he glared up at his brother. 

"Very well. Our hospitality is yours."

Lady Jeyne was not the most entertaining woman Rhaena had ever met, she reflected bitterly, finally slipping away to find where Aemond, Daeron and Aegon were likely having much more fun. Jeyne seemed just as uninterested in conversation with her as she was, at least, so she doubted she was hurting her future good-sister's feelings. 

They were drinking wine with Cole when she found them. "Where are Ser Harwin and Luke?" she asked. 

"Father-son bonding I'm sure," Aegon joked. 

Rhaena scowled. She understood men would always make their off-color japes, but Luke deserved better than to be constantly teased by his uncles. "Unkind to say, my Prince."

"Doesn't make it less true," he said, bursting into a fit of drunken giggles. "Though I must say I understand Rhaenyra much better now. Jeyne wants a child but I confess it's rather difficult when she prefers her lady in waiting's fingers to my cock."

Ser Gwayne choked. "Mayhaps less cock talk around the lady," he said as Cole slapped his back in an inefficient attempt to get him breathing properly. 

"Please," Aemond said through gritted teeth. 

Aegon swatted Gwayne on the arm, admonishing. "Oh, come off it, Father only broke Aemond's engagement because he fucked her, right? She can hear this. She's ridden the dragon."

"That's not true," Rhaena protested. "Don't be vulgar , Aegon."

"I'm only joking, take a breath," he said, rolling his eyes. "I hope you enjoy the Vale, Lady Rhaena. I find the mountain air energizing."

"Perhaps a bit too energizing," Daeron jabbed at him as Aegon refilled his wine. 

"If you'll pardon me, I must get some rest," Rhaena said as she finished the single goblet of wine she'd been poured. Clearly they were too deep in their cups to be good company tonight. She could enjoy the rest of her night on her own. 

"I'll escort you," Aemond said hastily, looping his arm with her and steering her away from his brother's crowing. "Aegon is not getting wiser with age," he mused. 

"Targaryens are rarely wise," she agreed, laughing. "Do not fret, I am not wounded." 

"Of course not. Goodnight, Lady Rhaena," he said, kissing her hand, the picture of politeness as a knight strolled by. 

A proper goodnight kiss was shared after, but Rhaena's mind was on the thought of a wild dragon. Unclaimed and alone in the world… 

She barely slept for the excitement. 

They stayed in the Eyrie less than a week, all told. They saw no signs of the wild dragon safely behind the walls of the castle, to Rhaena's disappointment, but they did visit Sunfyre where a resplendent cave had been built for him in the side of a mountain. Seeing how Aegon loved his dragon softened her coldness to him, but still fueled her envy. The egg smoldering in her room at home would never be what she wanted. 

Their guides down the mountain pointed out the spots that had been marred by the wild dragon. They had not been looking for them on their way up, so of course everyone had missed them, but now the bent trees and singed bushes seemed so obvious. 

As they rode, companionable chatter and birdsong, she thought about the dragon defending down upon them. A dragon choosing her seemingly at random. It was a silly fantasy, the dreaming of a little girl, but it sparked a need in her. Before they left the Vale, she wanted to see this Sheepstealer for herself. 

The first night, Aemond crept into her room and she was far too distracted by that to consider her plan, but she knew he wouldn't come into her room two nights in a row. 

She turned in early the second night, barely registering the conversation at the table. Gwayne Hightower escorted her to her room, gallant as always. 

"It's very strange to see my nephew infatuated," he mused. "Quite a singular lady you've grown into," he added. 

She smiled. "Singular. That's very kind of you." 

"It's the truth. Goodnight, my lady," he said, kissing her hand and leaving her alone. 

She laid down as if she meant to sleep, but her boots were still on and she buzzed with excitement the whole night. The inn was silent when she finally crept downstairs, a cloak hiding her hair as she slipped outside. 

She walked the road alone, looking for the charred remnants they had seen earlier in the day. If she followed those fresh burns, certainly she could find the dragon, right? It was a dragon , after all, not a field mouse. 

"Rhaena! What are you doing?" a new voice demanded, grabbing her arm. 

She hadn't heard anyone following her, but she wasn't surprised when she turned to see Aemond. "Looking for the dragon."

"I -- what? In the dark alone? Are you a fool?" he asked her, holding her in place as she tried to continue walking. 

"Do not try to stop me, Aemond Targaryen," she said, pulling her arm away and continuing down the path. 

"A wild dragon is not the same as a riderless dragon, Rhaena!" he said, continuing to follow her. 

"I can't just let you bring Vermithor up here to kill it!" she said, determinedly not looking at him. Suddenly, they were children again. They were bickering in the mouth of the dragonmount, tussling over Aemond's recklessness. Only now she was the reckless one, for the first time in her life. "Go back!"

"And let you get killed? I will not ."

"Then be quiet and walk with me," she said, holding a hand out behind her for him to take as they trudged through the woods, off the road, following the gouged and burned trees. She was relieved to feel his hand in hers. They walked for nearly an hour before she slowed, hearing something in the dark ahead of her. 

"...Stay back," she said, creeping forward alone as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She stumbled over a rock, freezing as it tumbled down and made an unearthly loud clatter. 

Rhaena stood at the lip of a ravine, looking down to see a breathing mass of dark scales below her. There was a gout of flames as the dragon woke from her stumbling, and she saw the outline of its head raising up towards her. 

Sheepstealer regarded her, sleepy, and she reached her shaking hand out, hoping it felt all of the things she felt. The need to belong, the loneliness. They were the same, weren't they? Left to the wilds, treated as less than the others. He had to see that. 

"Sheepstealer," she said, testing how the word felt in High Valyrian. "To me." 

The burn on her arm twinged as a fierce snout brushed against it with a hot exhale. 

"The saddle is finally done," she said, tying her hair back as she considered herself in a looking glass. 

"Where will you fly first?" Baela wondered. 

Truthfully, she'd flown Sheepstealer back to Driftmark, though it had been a terrifying ordeal with no way to truly brace herself, and it had taken twice as long as it should have because she'd had to stop. This would be a real flight, though. "King's Landing, or Dragonstone, or both!" she said, an excited little thrill coursing through her. 

"King's Landing, I'm sure," her sister japed. 

"Oh, stop. Don't be jealous." 

"I'm not jealous. I've no need for a prince or a husband," she said primly.

Rhaena smiled. "Well, if you'll pardon me, I must really get my beauty rest," she said, even though she didn't think she'd be tired for a long while that evening. 

Her sister, ever keen, took her meaning, and left her alone to prepare. 

The cool sea air whipping against her face would always feel like a small miracle, a testament to the bravery she had never known herself to have. The Red Keep rose up as if from the sea the closer she got to it, and soon she was over the city, casting a shadow across the Great Sept as she circled to the royal apartments. 

"Sheepstealer, come," she said she turned, pressing in close to the tower. 

Aemond was standing on his balcony already, the wind in his hair as he watched her descend, graceless. "The fierce dragonrider coming to steal me away?" he wondered, tone a little mocking. 

"If you'd like, my Prince," she said, reaching a hand out to him. 

He climbed onto the railing of the balcony and took her hand, sliding into the back of the saddle and wrapping an arm around her waist. "Where would you like to fly to, Lady Rhaena?"