When Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen's big family arrive at King's Landing for princess Haelena and prince Aegon Targaryen's wedding, things go as they always do. Dragons, uncles, nephews and cousins discussing and fighting, tension on every look, and disconfort when being with each other. Just the usual stuff...until the princess Daera Targaryen got drunk at a ball where The One-Eyed Prince happened to sneaked in
Chapters:
□ Part 1
□ Part 2
□ Part 3
□ Part 4
□ Part 5
□ Part 6
□ Part 7
□ Part 8
□ Part 9
□ Part 10
□ Part 11
□ Part 12
□ Part 13
□ Part 14
□ Part 15
□ Part 16
□ Part 17 [ Final Part ]
■ ■ ■
《 Second Part 》
¤ The Dance
of the Dragons ¤
{ Aemond Targaryen }
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
A/N: "The Dance of The Dragons" takes no sides at all. This is not a "team black" or "team green" story. Both sides and their characters will have all of their own flaws, their own victories, their own mistakes, and their concrete motives in each case.
Warnings: cussing, nakedness, stalking (kinda?), sexual tension.
•••
Despite all of the entertainments Ashford posses to offer to its multiple visitants, these grey lands may become rather...daunting, if we say it nicely, after spending a while on them.
Prince Aerion Targaryen, on the other hand, would prefer to define it as dreadfully dull, boring, and -in his own words- a shitwell. He has been here for a day.
His father, Maekar, has been overly worried 'bout his lost siblings and whatnot. Dealing with him on the ride to Ashford Meadow was one thing, but to also tolerate his stopless unsufferable whines and childlish cusses in the same room as him? Politely -not very-, the prince declines the possibility.
He, then, headed to his assigned rooms and, after a few minutes lying down while looking at the ceiling, he grew desperate. The prince slammed the door, and stepped out of those grey quartes, with tight knuckles. So, he also declines the bedchamber.
What next?
"Seven fucks" the white-haired goes mumbling while strutting, looking around so thay he may finally find something to entertain himself with. But alas, this is not his King's Landing, and until the joust at night arrives, he truly has nothing to do until the night covers the sky.
Standing in the middle of the castle yard, he scrunches his eyes and looks up.
"Well, gods damn me" he mutters as he sees the sunniest sky the Reach has probably ever seen.
It is a long wait until nightfall indeed.
To be standing on the yard made the prince think, for a brief second, of the idiot he had met when he and the Royal Family arrived to their welcoming by the House Ashford; a two-meters blue-eyed halwit. That made him to think of his horse, and that made him to think of...
Aerion turns around his head, allowing his eyes to fall on the stables. Gladden by his sudden idea, he scoffs and lets out the tiniest smirk, clenching his lips.
Well, thanks to that two-meter blue-eyed halfwit, the prince Aerion has had an idea of what to do.
•••
Worst idea ever.
Aerion scowls and frowns with passion every passing second. On the contrary, his horse enjoys the most of his ride, calmly galloping through the wide green fields as the wind blows their manes.
It had been interesting enough to have a ride through unknown lands, at first, but now the prince has come to realized that this is all there is to it: land. It even looks completely the same! Green grass, tall trees, and...a river?
The white-haired prince frowns -even harder than before-, and makes his horse to stop. This one shakes his head, with an attitude almost as stubborn as his rider.
"Shush, now" the prince quiets his animal, squinting his eyes to see past a great amount of tall grass that is not too far from them. There is definetely a river behind all that grass, he can clearly hear it.
The prince sighs through his nose, casting a sidelong glance to his brown warhorse.
"Thirsty, boy?" he mumbles, briefly petting one of his ears. And then he clucked.
Whilst they gallop foward, the sound of running water started to become clear and clearer. He even heard some splashing, which briefly confused him, but only made him to command his horse to go faster.
The brown beast walks past the grass, and it blows when finally having sight of a clear running river. The horse's rider, however, found himself automatically atractted by some other...sight of nature.
A girl -no, not a girl- a woman stands by the shore of the lonely river. The first thing that the prince saw was her buttocks, firm and lovely. The woman is naked, not a single clothe covers any part of her skin right now.
Her hair is clear, but she's not blond. She is not brown, but she surely is not fair skinned. Her color is sweet, one may say, as if she was kissed by the sun, which she actually is right now, for she is bathing in the sunlight as much as in the river itself. She scrubs her arms with a rag, and sometimes runs her fingers through her dry long hair, massaging her scalp.
Let us be honest, prince Aerion Targaryen did sneaked out of the castle so he could find some fun or entertainment. However, he definetely was not planning in crossing paths with this cinnamon-skinned woman, and much less planning to meet his blue gaze with the hazel eyes that soon turned to see him.
And, of course, neither was she.
"OH! SEVEN FUCKING HELLS!"
Her prior angelic looks became a sweet memory when she let out a savage scream, and stepped back wit hurry.
"My...!" Pathetic as a mummer, the prince stutterrs with surprise, not having expected for her to notice him, which was honestly stupid, for he was just standing there like a- oh fucks, like that two-meter halfwit. "My apologies!", he is quick to say.
"What in the...!?" Her breath catches while she does her best to cover her breasts and womanhood, thought it was too late, for the prince did glanced at her brown nipples and shaved mount while he apologized to her. "It does not look as if you have any true apology, you twat!", she rages with a dry laugh.
That is when the magic ended. Aerion frowns, and looks up at her eyes when hearing her tone.
"Excuse me?" he tilts his head.
"I shall do no such thing" the woman raises her brows with no shame. "I shan't, cotton-haired" she spits in the running water of the river.
Aerion's faces lights up as a match whilst he jumped off his horse, who calmly headed to have a drink, not caring at all about the menacing tone from the woman to his rider.
"You have no idea who you are talking to" He said, bemused, and it was not a question, but an affirmation.
"Oh sweet thing" She curves her brows, faking tenderness. He clenches his fists "You believe that because you are a princeling you have the right to watch a lonely woman washing herself in the river!?" she speaks as how one would speak to a silly child.
Aerion opens his eyes big, not expecting this turn.
"You do know who I am..." This was an affirmation too.
The hazel-eyed woman growls under her breath, not taking any more insolence. She heads to the grass, where Aerion just noticed her clothes lay, perfectly folded.
"I..." The prince loses any capability of speak -yet again- when he watches as the lady bends to pick up her blue silk dress. Her buttocks bewitched him, once again. Slowly standing again, she looks at him with pointy eyes and pressed lips, unimpressed by his reaction. "I apologized" He could speak again as soon as he lost sights of her ass.
"What a duly prince" she gifts him a fake smile, beginning to step into her clothes, covering her skin. Now why would she do that?
"You may want to watch your tone" Aerion frowns, menacing.
"And you may want to watch your kind" The hazel-eyed girl declared with a stiff lip, taking a step towards him. He parts his lips. "A couple of your Citywatch hounds would have gladly joined me in my bath if it weren't for some hedge knight who was kind enough to sent them away for me" She speaks harshly.
There, he understood her sudden rage did not emerge from nowhere when she discovered him; it was simply not the first time this had happened in the day. He feels a weird twist inside his guts when thinking of it; perhaps he got embarrased when hearing the acts of his own guards, or perhaps he's just willing to take a shit.
"I apologize, my lady" The prince's voice got honest this time, which made her to loosen her brows and fists a little bit. "Truly" he insisted, discretly counting three moles on her neck.
The woman takes air, slowly, and then let it out by the nose.
"Not much more I could get from you" She mumbled with little care, shrugging.
Aerion watches as she takes out a golden necklace from a pocket of her silk dress, and starts to putting it on. He cocks his head to a side, scrunching his lips.
"You a whore?" The prince casually asks.
"Are you?" She sides a smile.
He grunts and presses his lips, feeling like he'd go insane if she disrespects him again. All she do is laugh when seeing how easily he gets pissed.
"What is a prince doing alone, so far away from the castle?" She begins to wonder, squinting her hazel eyes. Aerion eyes her neckline, wondering how it'd feel under his hands. "Are Lord Ashford's facilities so boring that he had to take a ride on his pony?"
"I am starting to believe you are a jester, and not a whore" The prince harshly says.
"I am starting to believe that too, because my jests are genious" She sighed.
And she may be speaking truth, for those last words of her made the prince to let out a chuckle; an big amused chuckle. Even he looked surprised!
He forced his mouth shut and opened his eyes big.
With a wide gaze, she begins to smile with as much curiosity as taunt, reading his face. He is so ugly that he is...almost irresistible.
"You can tell me" She giggles, keeping to herself the surprise when realizing she's actually having a conversation with a Targaryen prince. "From whore to whore", she whispers and winks an eye at him.
Once again, Aerion fought to not smile. He bites his lips and looks around, glancing at his horse for a moment while he thinks about the fact that this scenario perfectly matches what he was looking for during his boredom -minus the mocks-; fun.
"Ashford has many a field to offer. I wanted to see them" He speaks plainly, obviously not confessing that he got bored in the castle; something told him she would have mocked that too.
"And I'd like to see how that castle is inside, what a crazy world" She jests, raising her brows.
His blue eyes fall on her again, serenely and deeply. The woman did her best not to gulp, and to ignore some filthy thoughts that wanted to come ashore.
The horse's nicker made them both to turn their heads to him. He stands as if he expects his prince, as if asking him to got back. The woman lets out a silent smile, admiring the beautiful warhorse.
"I am not a whore" She suddenly informed. He inmediately turned his gaze back to her, with parted lips. "I just...live here"
"You are a commoner, then" He deduces.
"And you are very smart" She mocks him, once again.
Aerion slowly cocks his head to a side, taking the time to look at her face for some silent seconds. Not intimidated by his stare, she just blinks and keeps the silence as well, until he broke it.
"Will you be there?" The prince suddenly asked, taking her by surprise, which she hated to show.
"Uh- well, where?" She shrugges.
"At the tourney, tonight" He cleared with a serene tone, crossing his hands on his belly. A sigh came out from her pink lips.
"Even my cousin Brett will be there, and he is blind" The woman scoffed, and the prince almost laughed but, again, he held it.
"So I shall see you" Aerion determined.
"Maybe you shall see me" She smiled to him, turning around, and beginning to walk away from him.
Aerion licks his lips, watching her from head to toe whilst his tongue dances on the side of his mouth.
"Maybe you shall see the insides of the castle" He said, and that was a clear affirmation.
She looked at him over her shoulder, with blinkless interested eyes and half a smile, not letting those words to go all the way up to her head. He is just a cocky whore prince, nothing else.
Chuckles from her got mixed with the wind as she turned again and kept on walking, leaving him behind. Aerion plays with his sword's handle on his belt, and watches her with a smirk he does no longer fights.
"You didn't tell me your name!" He shouts from one moment to another, just realizing.
"Maybe I shall tell it to you tonight!" The breezed carried her word and laughs.
•••
Hope you liked it!
Would anyone want a Part Two of this?
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, grief, brief explicit sex {p on v}, mentions of death, we'll never be over Luke's death, angst and rage, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•••
《 Urgent News From Dragonstone 》
•••
On a new day, the sun blesses King’s Landing with warmth and light. So blue are the skies that one may take them for a thousand sapphires lingering above. Soft white clouds are quietly blown by an even softer breeze. The children and cats and dogs of Flea Bottom have taken games and laughs to the streets again with freedom, besotted with the kind weather. No one would imagine a war is taking place between these fresh winds.
Most of the habitants, however, still weary and alert because of the late troubles of the realm, remain locked behind their doors and hidden under their beds. Some bolder people fuck and drink their fear away in brothels and pleasure houses, finding comfort in the arms of some paramour; a woman’s touch that everything betters.
As we turn to the powerful Red Keep, we can see that, differing from the smallfolk, the prince Daeron Targaryen finds comfort in the Godswoods of the castle. Hugged by the breeze, caressed by falling leaves, and marveled by the weirtree in front of him, the prince’s purple eyes admire the sky of about.
With his hands crossed behind his back, and his sword swinging on his hip, which he lightly bounces unconsciously, he thinks about how that deep blue from above almost resembles that of his beautiful she-dragon, Tessarion. She, as we speak, must be being tended and feted properly by the dragonkeepers in The Dragonpit.
He lets out a little smile, thinking about her.
Blinking with slowness, he looks down, and touches some of the plants around him, caressing their greenness. He has seen the many gardeners that maintain the gardens of the castle in perfect state, but he can’t help but to think that none of these trees or flowers compares to the ones in Oldtown, which are full of life and colors.
Suddenly having a weird feeling on his neck, the prince turns around with curiosity, not feeling alone in the gardens anymore. When he turns, his suspicious turns true, for he finds his sister, Queen Helaena, entering with soft curious eyes, and her hands crossed over her belly, which is already starting to pronounce under her dress.
—Hel! —. The prince smiles when he sees her approaching—. Your- your Grace—, he quicky corrects himself, stuttering.
—Please, do not—. She instantly raises a hand, sighing with honest distress when being called that. His brother presses his lips into a little smile, nodding and watching—. I do not find…warmth, in those words—. She confesses, looking at him with a light scrunched nose.
—Ah—, her brother nods, stepping to a side to make more room for her when she got in front of him.
—I prefer Hel—. The Queen said, almost pleadingly. Daeron smiles lightly, looking at her pink cheeks. She sighs, looking around for a moment—…You want to be here alone—. She says, not asking, but assuring, with a soft tone.
—It may be—. The prince confesses within a light nod. Like his sister, he looks around, appreciating the loneliness in the surroundings; they are the only ones here—. As huge and accommodating it may be, I find The Red Keep being lacking some…warmth, as you said—. He narrows his purple eyes, and Helaena open hers, very interested—. I am sorry if I offend you, sister, I know this is your home; I just—
—I understand that well—, she admitted with no shame. Now he is the surprised one, lightly raising his brows.
Daeron expects some explanation to her statement but, instead, the Queen just remains silent, with a little smile on her thin lips, and her purple eyes wandering around with calm. Used to her way of being, though sometimes curious about it, he lets it pass, and copies her.
—The gardens remind me of Oldtown—, the brother confesses with a calmed tone. His sister looks with curiosity when their mother’s hometown is mentioned—. The trees are greener there, indeed, but I still am able to find quite comfort in the ones of here—. He smiles, lifting his red cheeks.
—How was to grow up in Oldtown, brother?—. The Queen asked within a murmur, highly interested.
He breathes in, pressing his lips. He looks at his own hands while his head shakes from one side to another, finding the right words. He, then, sighs, looking at her again.
—Many call Oldtown the oldest and most intriguing city of Westeros, possessor of deep ancient knowledges and instructors of the most working minds of the world-. The prince speaks as if he was reading a book, and then scoffs—. I call it home—. He proceeds to smirk.
Helaena’s cheeks came up when she heard that, and her eyes flickered. She dearly smiles to her little brother, who laughed briefly while looking at her.
—Much more libraries and books than I care to count; though I am not a big follower of histories or the mathematics, to the dislike of my maesters and septas—. The boy confesses, making his sister to be the one laughing now—. We have parties, many of them, oft celebrated in our halls and yards. The Hightower- ah, the Hightower! At least twice a week I climb up its stairs, and glad myself with the sight of Oldtown from above-. He speaks with true happiness, thinking about his household, which Helaena listens at enchantingly, marveled by how good it sounds; how sane—. Our uncle, Gwayne, is the best man-at-arms I know, and a great friend too. You would love him, Helaena—. Daeron sighs, his smile getting wider.
—Um—. With a pressed smile, she hums and nods with enthusiasm.
—Though I find alluring the sighs from the beacon of the Hightower, I must admit that there is not greater view than the one from Tessarion’s back—. The prince sighs, thinking of his beloved dragoness. Helaena blinks softly, thinking of hers as well. Seconds then, he sighs, his smile fading a little—-. But I do grow tired, from time to time, of finding myself alone in the skies—. He confesses with honesty.
Helaena curves her brows, staring at him with some growing pity.
—We never fly together—, she whispers, thinking of the few times they’ve shared the skies with their dragons. Those times can be count with the fingers of one hand, and we’d be left with fingers to spare. Daeron gives her a small smile, nodding—. I used to fly with company…—the nostalgic Queen recalls—…with Aemond, and Daera—-. Those names she named with a pressed sad smirk, looking at the ground.
—Daera?—. The purple of his eyes gains a shine when she’s mentioned. Helaena can’t help but to laugh a little, knowing of his forever cajolement with princess Daera Targaryen since he was a little kid, to Alicent’s distress—. I can only dream, to fly at her side—. Blatantly, he giggles and shakes his head.
—Only once, you have—. The Queen recalls that day they all flew to Driftmark a year ago for Lord Corlys’ nameday, when both green and blacks’ dragons flew together in the skies while arriving to the island.
So many dragons were in Driftmark that day, that many believed it to be the New Valyria.
—And an honor it was—. Daeron mumbles with a smile, pressing it, looking down and feelings his cheeks burning whilst he thinks of that rogue princess of silver locks and tremendous flirty eyes.
Queen Helaena looks at him with softness and a smile, enthusiast of his delicate way of being. For a second, the Queen wonders how things would have gone if, amongst her brothers, Daera had fallen in love with Daeron, instead of Aemond. Things would be entirely different, she’s sure.
—Daera and Daeron—, the young prince mumbles under his breath, having always adored the matching game their names make. Helaena cocks her head, staring at him with a smile—. I have not only heard, but seen too, the fondness you have for each other; you and our cousin—. He sides a smile, breathing in.
In that moment, Helaena’s eyes get suddenly casted below some glum feeling. She sighed and looked down, thinking of the dear Daera, and how apart they’ve grown since the start of this family quarrel. It is not only her niblings who miss her deeply, but Queen Helaena herself does too. Her sister and good companion, now casted away because of war and death.
—It used to be the three of us in the skies, from time to time—. She remembers with nothing but dearness, desiring to go back instead of forward. Her brother furrows his brows, somewhat confused when hearing “three”. The other person’s name is revealed in her next words—. But Aemond is changed…and Daera away…—. Helaena lamented with a low voice, looking down.
Daeron opens his eyes wider, even more surprised now, not having known about all the secret flights Vhagar, Kalistrox and Dreamfyre used to share with their riders faithfully seated on their backs. No one, in true, knows about them. However, trusting Daeron’s gut, Helaena did not fear to share it.
She knew she was right because, despite his surprise, Daeron sided a little smile, and caressed her arms with sadness and support. She took his touch with all the gladness of the Seven Kingdoms, smiling to him. Daeron smiled too, scrunching his nose.
Moments then, the Queen breathes in, and lifts her brows.
—Shall we go to it, then?—. The Queen asks, looking around.
—Uh…—. Highly confused, Daeron looks around too, trying to find a hint about what she meant, but finding none—…Where to, dear sister?—. He asks, looking at her again.
—To fly together—, Helaena brightly smiled to him.
The prince instantly gasps, growing excited and smiling as brightly as her.
—Oh, hells! Yes, of course!—. He cheers, but then suddenly stops—. Wait, uh- won’t the flight make you dizzy or so?—. Daeron questions with worry, glancing at her swollen belly.
—No!—. As sure as a maester, the Queen answered, smiled, locked her elbow with her brother’s, and started to lead the way.
—But, Helaena…!—. Though excited and smiling, he tries to insist.
—No!—-. The Queen insists too, with the same tone, raising her brows to him.
Daeron didn’t keep fighting, and instead laughed loudly, resting his head on Helaena’s arm while, with their elbows locked, walked away from the Godswoods. Sharing laughs and smiles with her little brother, Queen Helaena swears she would give her life to have had grown in Oldtown, and not in King’s Landing.
In the city, the bright sun kept shining. We believe proper to point out that calm comes before the storm.
•••
The late morning has brought mist and heavy clouds to Dragonstone, but the silence and broken hearts of tits people it’s responsible of making the day a sorrowful dark one.
Whilst Queen Rhaenyra remains away from home and court, gone to her grief and madness of finding her son, in danger and alone, the things at her seat have fallen into a desperate pause. The Black Council meets, but the lords speak to deaf ears as their ruler is not with them. They plan and propose plans, but to what end?
Princesses Baela and Rhaenys have paid some kind of attention to all these lords’ thoughts and ideas, whether concurring with them, or refusing them duly. However, their answers are not the Queen’s, so little and less has been done regarding the usurpation of her throne.
Prince Daemon -The Queen’s consort- has kept himself considerably apart from court too. Since Luke was declared dead and gone, he finds solace in empty dark rooms of the castle, or at Caraxes’ back, mumbling threats of war and doom. Today, however, his comforts are elsewhere, and calmer, we are glad to say.
Standing at the entry of the castle’s nursery, he has a shoulder resting on a doorframe, and his arms crosses on his chest. He finds some distraction from his thoughts now, as he’s listening to Aegon and Viserys’ babbles, and Joffrey’s games with them.
—Then Tyraxes rises in the skies and…whoosh!—. Joff exclaims with passion, highly lifting a wooden dragon figure up, making it fly in the air. Aegon and Viserys looked at it with open drooling mouths—. Ahhh, he’s come to save us all!—. The boy scrunches his nose.
Looking at them, Daemon cocks his head to a side, slightly siding a smile. From his distance, in the doorframe, he has perfect sight of the three children on the floor. Aegon and Viserys are dressed in golden and white, while Joffrey wears his loved Targaryen colors, never growing off them. The babes, which have grown angry and sad since their mother left, are finding total joy in their older brother and the toys he’s brought for them to play.
—Now everyone is free, everyone is happy!—. Joffrey goes shrieking, making his wooden dragon to fly from one side to another. Viserys laughs, rising his arms to try and catch it. Calmer, Aegon just babbles while looking at it.
That wooden dragon belonged to Luke; Daemon well knows. He is gone…and now his little brothers are playing with it, as happily and smiley as Luke did once too. The Rogue Prince gulps, blinkless, looking at his boys’ smiles, hearing his boys’ laughs. They are the only boys he has left.
As soon as he felt tears gathering on his eyes, Daemon rose his hands and quickly wiped them away, denied to cry. He sniffs his nose and stands stiffer. From the floor, Joffrey turned his head to him, and gave him a smile; but it was a crooked one, for the boy allowed himself to briefly let fall his façade of extreme happiness he’s forced himself to have with his baby brothers. When Joff smiled to his father, he did not need to hide his grief and pain.
Daemon gathers the will to smile back at him, and give him a nod. Afterwards, his brown-haired son nodded too, and resumed the game with the twins, who welcomed it back with shrieks, claps and babbles.
The Rogue Prince hears some steps coming from the hallway. Standing between it and the nursery, he cocks his head back, and glances outside. The owner of the steps is Rhaena, who walks with her eyes down, and a pale face.
—Rhaena—. He calls her with softness, barely moving his lips.
But his daughter kept walking, blinkless and hugging herself under a black cloak. Daemon furrows his brows, seeing how she walked past the nursery without even realizing he was standing there.
—Rhaena!—. The prince called again, this time louder and sharper. This time, she did hear, and quickly turns her head to look at him. From the doorframe, he loosens his arms at his sides, and looks at her with pressed lips. The sadness casted on her face is worthy of the saddest painting of the kingdoms. She blinks, and her lashes bat misery-. Where’s…where’s your sister?—. He asks, suddenly. Though he did call her, when she looked at him, he didn’t know what to say.
-With Moondancer—. Her raspy low voice answered. Her father opens his lips, and then closes them. Then he moves a foot, with doubt, looking as if he was going to walk to her. Before so, she spoke again—. You may excuse me…—. She mumbled and, without waiting for leave, kept her walk.
Daemon parts his lips, seeing how she walked away in the same sadness and glum as before. He gulps, glancing into the nursery again. After checking on the children for some seconds, he looks outside again. His daughter was nowhere to be seen.
Now away from Daemon’s sights, Rhaena finds herself walking into another hallway. And, after some slow weary steps, she stopped in front of a wooden door. She looks at it, while sour tears gather in her tired purple eyes.
Moments then, she came into that room, and closed the door behind her. Luke’s bedchambers welcomed her with a dreadful silence, a made bed, dusty shoes, and an open window. Every book, glove, cloth and toy of him is here. But he, as we know, is not.
Rhaena’s lips tremble while she looks around, taking slow steps with her weak legs. All dressed in black, she finds the tears unbearable, and started to cry them in silence. That silence did not last much.
After taking a glance of some unfinished meal left in a drawer, Rhaena’s knees failed them, and she fell to the floor in the middle of a broken whine. The princess clutches her own chest, feeling it burning with sadness and misery. Now hers is the only soul in here, though these are not her bedchambers.
She bends completely, clashing her hands on the ground while she wets the floor with tears of grief, rage and impotence. He claws her nails on the rug below her, gripping it and squeezing it as if that is going to bring Luke back, as if it was Aemond Targaryen’s neck itself.
While the princess weeps ink, she can only think about how much hate she holds for the one-eyed, how much she longs for vengeance for her betrothed, how much she wants justice to be bring forth to those who had wronged her family so much, in these days of late.
Her chest comes up and down, and her knees tremble when she starts to stand up again. Weakly and slowly, she almost crawls to the open window of the room. When getting to it, she places her hands on the railing, and sniffs her red nose, looking outside. She whines, holding her chest with one hand while looking at one place in specifical.
Princess Rhaena nails her purple eyes on the Dragonmont.
•••
—Like this?—
—Fu- uck! Yes, exactly like that—
—Oh, gods. It feels so- fuck!—
—Come closer, love, lean to me—
—This close, sister?—
—You ask…um…and yet, you know the answer—
Jacaerys and Daera’s mouth breathe right against the other, taking the other’s air, and gulping it away.
Under a dozen layers of fur sheets, the princes find themselves hugged by -not warm- but by a burning aura that has them covered in moans, sweat, smiles, and bare skins.
Lying on the mattress, Daera finds herself topped with the steaming broad body of Jace, whose manhood thrusts into her womanhood in the most perfect rhythm. Hidden by privacy and their sheets, they moan as loud as they want, looking at each other’s eyes while their members clash endlessly against one another.
—Hells, Jace—. Daera bites her lips, hugging his nape with her ten fingers while she feels how he’s perfectly slipping into her, making her to take him whole. He moans while trembling, leaving kisses on her neck and jaw—. Now…lift my leg, like I told you—. She guided with tender whispers.
Groaning, the prince holds her left leg, right under her knees, and lifts it up with softness, bending it. In this position, more access was given to him within a second, and more stability as well, which made him to open his mouth into a wild moan, and to thrust faster into her.
—Um, gods!—. The prince grunts and smiles, breathless, massaging the leg he holds.
—See?—-. Breathing fast, she looks up at him with a bright smile, slowly rolling her eyes to the back of her head—. Oh, I told- I told you—. She moans as much as him, afflicting her throat, and clawing his ass so he might go faster.
Her husband grunts and laughs, cupping a side of her face with his free hand. They look at each other, sweaty and smiling. They rest their foreheads together while all of them clashes with no end, gaining as much fastness as pleasure, rising their moans and curses to the ceilings.
—Ouh, love—. Jacaerys moaned, and his wife encouraged him with a smile, a caress on his brown mane, and a deep kiss on his lips—. Um….—. He closes his eyes, besotted, thanking the heavens.
When the act of love reached an end, he came inside of her, burying all his length and fluids in here. Daera took them with joys, twisting on the mattress while she laughed and came too, clutching him to her when pushing his ass with her feet. They laughed on each other’s lips, kissing, and sharing declarations of love.
When they were done, they did not find any bother in keep staring at each other’s eyes, smiling and sighing. Daera pampered his brown mane with caresses, and Jace pampered hers with kisses. He took the liberty of leaving a thousand kisses, too, on her shoulders and belly.
Moments later, we find them already outside of those layers of fur. When encountering with the change of temperature, the both laughed loudly.
—What a change—. She opens her eyes widely, looking for her dress on the drawer.
—I’m so cold now!—. He tsks his tongue, jumping into his pants. The princess sides a smile while looking at him, dressing herself as well.
—Hmm, wonder how we may resolve that—. She narrows her eyes.
—Ah—, Jacaerys narrows his as well, walking towards her. The princess almost melts, biting her lips with a smile, and seeing her broad-shouldered prince approaching with flirt—…I wonder too—. He whispers.
—Want to find out, husband?—. She mumbles, holding his jaw between two fingers.
Jace presses a bright smile, looking down at her with such a shine on his brown eyes.
—My princes!—-. The voice of a soldier and knocks from the door interrupts their moment—. You are expected in the front yard!—. He informed.
—Perfect, we are coming!—. The princess answered, and her husband sighed through his nose, lightly rolling his eyes—. Thank you, Ser!—. She nodded to the door.
—My princes—. With no other information, the soldier walked away from their locked room.
Daera lets go Jace’s jaw, going back to tie her dress’ threads.
—No time for amusements, Jace—. She sarcastically scolded him, rising her brows.
—Really?—. The prince scoffs, licking his inner cheeks.
The princess shrugs, looking at him with a cocky smile, and walking away from him while covering her breasts.
•••
When the princes came out to the main yard of the castle of Winterfell, they were welcomed by a chilling breeze, some barking dogs, and a handful of people staring at the same direction, as if expecting for something.
Daera and Jace arrived together, holding hands, with curious eyes and the deserving port of princes, walking rhythmically. Many took a peek of them, delighting their sights with their fine clothes, the princess’ silver curls, and the prince’s brown ones. Their swords swing in their hips, and their eyes looked back at them with both greeting and kindness, something they silently approved.
When walking forward after some seconds, they catch a glimpse of Ice, the Stark ancient sword, and when they approached further, they see Lord Cregan Stark standing in the middle of this crowd, standing firmly and powerful, all dressed in furs of black and brown.
—And, we gather here today, because of so; tradition, and honor—. His hoarse voice, decorated with his thick northerner accent, reaches all corner of the yard, making himself heard—. That who gets chosen by the Black Stone, is chosen by the Gods—. He raises his brows, looking around to his people—. To fill a purpose, greater than anyone one of us!—. His lordship declares, and many are who nodded in total agreeing with him, mumbling and some clapping.
Lord Stark opens his mouth again, but he briefly halts his speech when he catches sight of the princes of Dragonstone approaching between the crowd. They look at him, silently greeting him with light smiles and nods. Looking at them, he sides a discreet smile, nods back to them, and then keeps on with his words.
—To be a man of the Night Watch, is to be a warrior, a soldier of the Old Gods—. Lord Cregan plays with something small between his gloved fingers, which some young men are attentively staring at. Stepping closer, Jace narrows his eyes with marvel, admiring the tradition taking place. Behind him, his wife looks at him with pride and amusement—. And now…the Black Stone must decide, who the Gods’ next warrior shall be—. After looking at the eyes of everyone, he turns around, and walks to a guard of House Stark.
—Why is he walking to that man? —. Daera asked in a whisper, curious.
—Do you see what that man holds, that black bag? —. Jacaerys, without losing sight of Lord Stark, whispers back. The princess looks and, indeed, she finds the guard holding a bag which, apparently, is filled of clear rocks—. In there, Cregan must place the Black Stone, and then they all get mixed—. He explains with passion.
—Ouh—. She raises her brows, taking some steps forward, interested.
Just as Jace had explained, Lord Cregan opens his hands, and a black stone falls into that bag of grey rocks. His lordships stares at it without a blink in the middle, seeing how the guard shook it in his hands. Cregan hums, and faces his people again, specifically eyeing that group of young men.
—You may approach, my good men—. He nods and looks down, stepping away from the guard. While he walks away, that handful of eight boys stepped front, walked past him, and approached to the man with the bag.
Facing them again, Cregan looks at the princes for a second, and then turns his back to them and faces the men again, who made a circle around the guard with the bag. Jace softly pulls Daera, and so they approach even closer, looking with great interest.
The guard, then, hands the bag to one of the men. This one takes it, takes a deep breath in, holds it, and enters his hand into the bag. Only when he got it out, opened his palm, and saw a clear grey rock, he breathed again, sighing with disbelief.
Lord Cregan nods in silence, and the bag is passed to the next man.
—So …—, Daera narrows her eyes, whispering to Jace’s ear.
—Any questions, love?—. He distractedly asks, tenderly squeezing her hand on his.
—I think I’m getting it now. Whoever gets the Black Stone, joins the Night Watch, aye? —. She asks with certain doubt, squeezing back.
—Exactly! —. Jace answered with a smile, not losing sight of the bag. From a moment to another, he gasps—. Oh, Daera, look! —. He excitedly whispered, squeezing her hand again.
When she, indeed, looks -as all others did too-, and she sees the significant Black Stone coming out from the bag. Who took it out was a young men perhaps a year older than her, but surely around her age; a man who used to have all of his life ahead. Now, with this rock, the rest of it is determined.
Jacaerys sighed, amazed, starting to clap as everyone did too. Daera smiles when she seen the man’s friends patting his head and shoulders, proud of them. While clapping amongst the rest, the princess wonders if, back in Old Valyria, her ancestor used to hold traditions similar to these; where one person’s future is decided upon a token, or some omen. How much she’d give to know this.
The princes see the Lord of Winterfell patting the young men as well, honoring him with duly kind words, and friendly punching his back. The man, whose name Jace heard was Olys, laughs with his lords with amenity, nodding to his words and promises.
—The Black Stone has decided its warrior! —. When Lord Cregan raises his voice again, all shush. Daera and Jace smile, eyeing each other, and then at him. He licks his lips with a growing smile, looking at the subjects he most of the times sees as equals—. Now we march—. His Lordship informed with firmness.
After he spoke, everyone obeyed. Without much further ado, the crowd grew distant as everybody were to fetch their horses, friends and food for the march. They’ll wait nothing to part, so they immediately started to get ready.
The princes were the only ones to remain in the same place, standing side to side while everyone else moves.
—Did you enjoy it as you think you would? —. Daera asked to her husband with a smile.
—I’m afraid I’m still having chillbones—. Jace confessed within a murmur, making her to funnily laugh, caressing their locked arms. He eyes around, and then lightly raises his brows—. Cregan’s coming—, he informs.
Daera sharpens her eyes, and they both see Lord Stark approaching with firm steps.
—Please be nicer than last night—. Jacaerys mumbles under his breath. His wife scoffs.
—I told you I’ll do my best—. She mumbled back to him. He sighed, siding a smile, secretly adoring her boldness.
—I’ll take that chance—. The prince whispered.
This morning, after breaking fast in their bedchambers, Jacaerys asked his wife (most likely pleaded) to excuse the heated attitude she took with Lord Stark the prior night, when they met at his hall, or at least to try to. He knew he asked for a big thing, for seldom it was to see the princess comply and ask for forgiveness.
He halfly convinced her when recalling they are the Queen’s envoys, to both be treated and treat with respect. He convinced her entirely after the good fuck they had afterwards.
At the walk, His Lordship was interrupted by a kind midwife who handed little Rickon to him. Halting his steps, Cregan smiled and gently took his little son on his arms. At the moment of seeing the child, Daera’s eyes got softer, and her cheeks raised within a second into a smile. At her side, Jacaerys smirked too, looking at the approaching father and son.
—My princes—. Lord Stark greets when he finally reaches them, carrying Rickon with one arm only. The little boy stares at them with open lips and gone eyes, as disinterested as a babe is.
—Lord Cregan, good morrow—. Prince Jacaerys nods with a pressed smile.
—Morrow, m’ lord—. Princess Daera nodded to a side, staring at him. The blue-eyed lord smiles lightly, looking at the both of them.
—I hope you enjoyed the showing of our traditions—. He mannerly speaks, signaling his hand to the whole yard.
—We mostly did, my Lord—. Jace nods with an excitement he couldn’t hide, which made the lord stand easier, lightly rocking his son.
—I am very glad, then—. Cregan speaks with honesty.
—Hm—. Daera nods at him. Then everything is silent. Both men look at her, and the babe too. Soon, she found herself internally screaming and cursing. Outside, she sighed with some discomfort—. My lord, I…wish to extend an apology, if is so if I gave offense to you last night, at our meeting—. She says under the prideful look of Jacaerys—. But we’re eager to take back what is ours—, she was not shy to add.
—Princess, do not worry yourself about it—. Lord Stark lightly shakes his head, making the princes’ eyes calmer—. I very much understand your position; I spoke with my closest advisors, my maesters and my most trusted lords on these matters—. He confesses, gaining very interested looks from them.
The little boy in his arms suddenly steals all attention when he shrieked and laughed, raising his arms in the need of pampering. Jacaerys laughed, while the boy’s father smiled, and the princess’ eyes shined.
—Oh! —. She playfully coos, leaning toward the brown-haired babe, who clapped before her nearness. Lord Stark chuckles lightly, reaffirming his grip on Rickon and drawing him closer to her—. Where have you left all of your dear cats, sweet boy?—. Her nose gets tenderly scrunched while she talks to him.
Jace stares at Daera with loving eyes, smiling silently while he sees how she shines when she speaks to him, with any child, really, for he knows how she’s also this bright when being with Aegon and Viserys.
—They shall remain in the stables, while we are away—. Lord Cregan answered, almost with fun, rocking his baby boy.
—Oh but we should take them to The Wall! —. Daera tsked her tongue, smiling when the kid placed his hands on her brown soft cheeks—. Should we not?—. She amusedly whispered to him, and Rickon laughed.
All of them laughed when the child did so too. Many people from around were left speechless, seeing how their Lord looked clearly comfortable between the princes. To have people from the South is weird in Winterfell, to have them liked by the Lord of Winterfell is even weirder. The laughs they share speak volumes.
—You would make a great mother, princess—. Cregan dared to comment, smiling; his cheeks are a little pink because of his chuckles. Still leaned front to pamper his son, Daera looked up at him, and parted her lips.
Her chest ached when thinking of her Alyssa, and what she could have been. Her daughter, her child…all gone now.
—So they say—. The princess forced a warm smile, slowly stepping away from the kid while caressing his hair.
—So you will—. The deep voice of her husband made her to turn and look at him with parted lips, having felt a twist on her chest.
Jacaerys looks at her with pride and love, pressing a smile. Slowly widening one too, Daera lightly narrows her eyes, thinking about how she’s supposed to carry his child one day. Their child. Hers. She sighs and smiles at him, slightly cocking her head.
—And so you’re trying—. The jest coming from Lord Cregan’s lips took them both by surprise. Daera’s face shined with amusement, whilst Jace’s with terror—. I’ve noticed—. He added with a shrug, smirking sideways.
—HA! Impossible not to, oy?! —. Daera lets out a sailor’s laugh and tone, making the lord to flinch with a glad surprise. They laugh together, while Jace’s face turns as red as the leaves of the weirtree—. A singer, this one is! —. She proudly pats her husband’s back; he remains stiff.
—Why is everyone always hearing us? —. Jacaerys mumbled with total terror, remembering the time that Joffrey also did.
Between his laughs, someone seemed to call for their Lord, for Cregan quickly looked over their shoulders, and nodded.
—Please excuse me, my princes—. He speaks with a polite smile, walking forwards—. We shall meet before departing—. He decreed, and walks away with his son in his arms.
Slowly fading her smile, Daera sighed and rolled her eyes lightly.
—And still no answer—. She complained, crossing her arms.
—Am I really that loud? —. Jace suddenly questions, troubled.
His wife eyes him for two seconds, to then scoff and walk away, heading to their horses.
—Answer me!—. Flinching, he quickly follows her.
•••
Kalistrox purrs against Daera’s soft hands, caressing his scales against them. Widening a warm smile, his princess laughs, and scratches his golden chin.
—Clingy dragon…—. Jace mumbled with a smile, having Vermax’s head between his hands, and looking at him straight to his golden eyes, which shine while looking at him—. I know you hate it here, bud—. He sighed with a sided smile.
—Hm—. Princess Daera smirks, nearing her nose to one of her dragons’ horns—. We’ll be leaving soon—. She promised, and tenderly places a kiss on him. Kalistrox cheered this with a growl, and shook his head to get closer to her, pushing her lightly.
His princess chuckled, her eyes scrunching with fun. Turning his head to look at her, the prince smirks in silence, appreciating the black velvet dress she’s dressed herself for the mounting to The Wall. Matching his wife, he’s all in black too; perfect for the occasion, we might notice.
After some moments full of pampers and kisses for their dragons, the brown-haired prince’s eyes take a nostalgic shine before he spoke.
—…How do you think everyone at home is doing?—. He questions with a tender curiosity. When thinking of their family, she gives him a closed smile, and her eyes glim in the same way as his.
—They miss us, as we miss them…but fine. Overall, together—. She answered, raising her brows. So assuring she sounded, that her husband sighed and smiled, somewhat relieved—. Rhaena is probably avoiding eggs as we speak—. She tauntly mumbled.
—And Joffrey asking for orange slices—. Jacaerys scoffs with amusement. They laugh, slowly turning to the other—. Baela fawning over a stableboy I’ve noticed she’s friendly with—. He funnily narrows his eyes.
—I’m told he’s named Arton!—. Daera opens hers widely, making him to laugh—. Aegon and Viserys are draining their wetnurse, Rhaenyra probably insisting on breasting them herself—. She shrugged as they keep imagining what each of them is doing—. Father probably is in Caraxes—, the princess snorted.
—Aaand while Rhaena avoids eggs, Luke follows her all around—. Jacaerys pressed his lips into a funny smirk, raising his brows.
They both laugh to the sky, their chests getting warm just by the thoughts of their family, which they so much wish to already be back with. Daera breathes in deeply, softening her expression.
—Still grieving…—. The princess mumbles, briefly looking down. Her brother clenches his hands, thinking about Visenya—…as we will do with them too, when we’re back—. She whispered, hiding most of her pain and sorrow.
—Politics have kept us busy—. The prince mumbles, taking a deep breath—…Among other things…—. He tried to jest, though his smile was crooked, as well as hers, who nodded in silence—. It has helped, I think…—, he confesses.
—It has—. Her low voice answered, confessing too that all these trips, meetings, meals, fucks, messages and oaths have indeed kept their minds away from the tragedy the family suffered back in Dragonstone with Rhaenyra’s miscarriage.
Gulping, the prince silently takes his wife’s hand. She squeezes it, turning her mind to the siblings of them that are still alive. She thinks specifically of one of them.
—Do you think, too, that I “baby” Luke too much?—. Daera suddenly wonders, furrowing her brows. Jace sighed, closing his eyes for some seconds. Both thinking of the constant discussions Daera and Luke have had since the visit to King’s Landing, the reason of the question was obvious.
—You care a lot for him—, he softly says.
—Jace, do not coat your words—. His wife warned. He sighed again, looking at the sky with parted lips. Then, he starts to nod.
—Daera, you care a lot for him—. Having said the same words, they gained a complete different meaning with his tone. She raises her brows, listening—. He has told it to me often, that-
—Oh, really?—. She sarcastically scoffed.
—You have always cared for each of us, Daera, but you have always been especially…attentive, with him, as if he might break—. Jacaerys confesses, lightly narrowing his eyes. His wife looks at him with sharpened lips and eyes, gulping. Approaching, he caresses her fingers—. It is not your care that scares him, my love, but his own capacity to care of things for his own—. He softly explains.
Daera looks down, biting the inner of her cheeks when she heard it explained that way. As Daemon told her too, Jace talks about how Lucerys would never be able to handle things by himself if she wants to always do it for him.
—You are the best sister—. Her husband takes his hands to her back, and caresses with a softness that turned her expression lighter and more thoughtful. She looks up, her lips pressed—. He knows it, we all do. Luke is just…growing up—. Jace mumbles with honesty, shrugging.
“How will I ever make a good lord, if you never let me learn things for myself?!”, Lucerys squeaked to her during one of the fights they had in their last meetings. Sniffing her nose, Daera begins to truly understand his words and meanings. Suddenly, she feels ashamed, thinking of all the times she has stepped up in front of him and covered him with her body, pushing him back.
—I owe him an apology, I’m afraid…—. The princess whispered, surrendered and softly, almost siding a smirk. Showing his teeth with a prideful smile, her husband caresses her arms, and squeezes them.
—He’ll take it gladly, sister—. The prince assured with loving eyes. Looking back at them, Daera began to smile too, slowly loosing the tension on her arms when feeling him touching them this way.
They smile at each other, tenderness and love on their differently colored eyes.
—…I just want to go home—. Princess Daera confessed into a sigh, shaking her head.
—As do I—. Prince Jacaerys steadfastly agrees. Afterwards, he turns his head, as so did she, and the both look at the gathering of horses and people that were advancing in a road below the mountain—…But we have somewhere else to be first—. He added with a sided smirk.
From his black mare, Lord Cregan Stark looks up to the green and golden beasts at the top of that mountain and, in front of them, the lovebirds of Dragonstone holding hands and sharing smiles.
•••
Where the rider goes, the dragon follows.
That is why, presently, much of the northerners (if not all) that have joined the march to The Wall are endlessly looking up with parted lips and frightened untrusted eyes, unable to ignore the big shadows that are continuously flying right above them, following their path and, over anything, their princes.
Vermax flies higher, never too fond of unknown people. Below him, Kalistrox soars with slow flaps, constantly looking down while growling or purring. Both dragons keep their eyes on their riders. For the Golden Ray, it is no hard task to distinguish his princess and her white long curls. Vermax has a rougher time.
With the necessary supplies, and the trust put on their horses and the familiar road, the men of the North ride firmly and confidently across a dark forest, which ground is white and trees pale and old and strong. The winds are cold, even more than in Winterfell, but the path ahead a clear one, thankfully.
Princes Daera and Jacaerys ride side to side. She mounts the white horse Lord Cregan has fetched for her since their arrival, named Snow, whilst the prince rides a formidable black mare his lordship told them he had “Balerion” as name, crediting the idea to a cousin of his, lover of histories.
Wrapped in their velvet and fur clothes, the spouses go as warmed as they can, and the dragons near presence are helping as well. They are marveled by the landscape that surrounds them. The forest is dark and mysterious and yet beautiful, something Jacaerys is admitting with shiny blinkless eyes.
Princess Daera herself, though enamored too by the woods’ eerie feeling, puts more concentration in her thoughts rather than in the views. Somewhat impatience, she wonders when Lord Cregan will finally give a definite answer. She tells herself to not worry much, for her husband gave the lord a clear deadline; today. Winterfell has been very kind to them, yes, but tonight she wants to spend it on her dragon’s back instead of that castle again. She wants to go home.
—Oh!—. Jacaerys suddenly gasps, getting her out of her thoughts—. Daera, I- Is that a wolf?!-. He whispers with excitement, narrowing his eyes to look further.
—Where?—, she scrunches her nose, looking around too but with not much effort. On the contrary, he gasped again, looking at some feet ahead of them.
—I swear I saw someth-…! Oh it moved, that bush! Did you see?!—. He speaks in the midst of excited whispers, opening his eyes widely. His wife laughed, and only when she nodded to him, he felt the total freedom to no longer withhold his curiosity.
Jacaerys clicked his tongue, and Balerion was swift to obey, and took the prince more ahead of the road. With his usual hunger of discovering and learning, Jace was not shy to seek guidance with some northerners his age.
Seeing him go, Daera sided a smile while holding her horses’ rope, now riding alone. That, until another black mare joins her and Snow. Blacker than Jacaerys’ mount, Jade carries Lord Stark on her back with firmness and steady steps on the white snow below.
Acknowledging the lord’s presence, the princess side-eyed him with a light smile. He looks back at her with poorer dissimulation, with his hands on his thighs instead of his mare’s ropes. Lord Cregan looks forward, catching Prince Jacaerys talking and laughing with his own friends while they point at the bushes around. He, then, looks at the princess again.
As proud as ever, Daera does not want to speak the first word, so she just keeps on riding, and the riding continued in silence then. Meanwhile, Lord Stark gave himself the freedom of keep eyeing her, looking at her costly clothes and perfect curls of white. After some moments, he looks at her belt, where he finds a sword and a dagger, both sheathed in black leather.
—What is her name?—. His lordship asked, from a moment to another. The princes turns her head, and cocks an eyebrow at him, finding his eyes on her belt.
—Her name is Daera—, she sarcastically answers, moving her head.
—Your sword—. Not catching her jape, Lord Cregan clarified his question. She lightly raises her brows, glancing too at her own belt.
—I have never given it a name—. She confesses with a small shrug—. Though I should, for it has accomplished many things—. The princess ponders out loud, slowly smiling when thinking of all the disgusting people she has killed with it.
—Ah—, Cregan nods, glancing at it again—. And the dagger?—. He brings forth another question. With this, the white-haired woman immediately answers.
—She’s too new—. She says, meaning to the dagger gifted to her at Heart’s Home by its nice lord. Stark looks at her in silence, slightly narrowing his eyes—. I have not blessed her yet—. Her eyes glance at Jace, attending to him from the distance.
—Are you one that believes a weapon earns a name after fulfilling a purpose, princess?—. Cregan questions with honest interest.
—I think all swords and blades and people earn recognition after proving purpose…—Daera’s purple eyes stare at his blues, which coldness does not go away even when he’s smirking lightly, as he is now—…and fealty—. She added with a shameless mumble, looking forward.
Cregan copied her, and looked forward too, softening his expression and easily understanding her meaning. After some moments of silence, he caresses Jade’s ears, and speaks again.
—I sympathize with your cause, princess—. He says, winning back her purple eyes on him—. I feel I should share with you that neither I or Winterfell plan on breaking the oaths and vows we made. Might as well tell it to you plainly, before you make a hole on my neck—. The lord raised his brows towards her, shameless too.
Princess Daera pressed her lips into a smirk she didn’t want to show, driving her eyes away from him. Cregan remained calmed and looked away too, thoughtful and serene. Daera takes a deep breath in, screaming in her mind that everything is going as planned, that Lord Stark is just about to finally bend the knee for them, as he should.
—I well know a treachery when I see it—. The Guardian of The North spoke with coldness nearly as chilling as the snow around. The princess glances at him, once again, parting her lips—. This one, above all others, should not be tolerated—. He declared, serious.
—We shall cherish your support, Cregan…—. Daera uses passion in her voice, speaking with the Queen’s wisdom—…should you just give it to us—. She curves her brows, sincere.
Cregan sighs through his nose, thinking of his men and subjects and fellow lords. While he begins to look forward and his eyes gain a shine, she breathes in, and stiffens her posture.
—With your North in our yoke, the Greens will finally se-…—. The princess’ words and breath were left in the air when she, too, looked ahead.
She went speechless, when encountering with the view of the massive enormous wall of thick ice that started to appear before them when the forest’ trees began to grow smaller. She parts her lips, and gasped with no pretending, shocked by the view she always heard about, but would never imagine would be this…powerful.
—The Greens…they…—. Daera stutters, and Lord Cregan takes pride in that, widening a closed smile on his face while he looks up to The Wall with a great sentiment of belonging.
With hurry, Daera looks around and searches for Jace with her eyes. Quickly having sight of him, she finds him turning around to look back at her with the same shocked expression. When looking at each other, they both opened their eyes even wider, speechless by the fantastic view they’re having.
Soon enough, after the horses, mares and donkeys fastened their pace, the march gets to Castle Black; the main castle of The Night’s Watch. Even some of the locals themselves were left breathless by the view of The Wall, overwhelmed by its mighty size and thickness; impregnable. Both their greatest pride and terror.
Lord Cregan did not lose time; as soon as he jumped off from Jade, he gathered his men and approached to the Night’s Watch coming addition: Olys. His royal guests, however, were not eager to draw their gazes from the ice wall before them. Still mounting, they are side to side again, and look up with parted lips and shining eyes.
—It’s…it’s a marvel…—. Daera, who is not easily surprised, looks at it with true awe. Some northerners walking by them smirk with pride when noticing the princes’ loosen mouths.
—It’s beautiful—. Jacaerys whispered with curved brows and narrowed eyes. To look at the top of the Wall, he has to completely bend his neck back, which let us know just how incredibly tall this barrier is—. Is it not?—. He mumbles without looking at her.
With shiny eyes, she closes her lips and gulps, looking up while she has a memory she was not expecting.
—…It is…—, she whispers too.
The memory before her eyes dates back to Pentos’ golden times, when she lived there for a whole moon with Aemond forever by her side. In those days, their love and hope were at the height of its strength, with a thousand promises and whishes lingering in the air around them. One of those promises echo in her ear and, by extension, Aemond’s voice.
Naked and painted by a dawning sun, he was kneeled in front of her, one time they were dining at their manor’s garden. Kissing her knees, feet and thighs, he was enamoring her with Valyrian mumbles. They were talking about future times, those when she’ll be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and could do anything she’d see fit. Aemond promised they’d go see The Wall together one day, side by side and with their hands held in front of everybody.
“Then the snow will fall, and I’ll take if off your body with my tongue”. She remembers he said to her, mumbling against her legs, with a teary eye that shined with love and praising. “I promise to you, my goddess, The Wall of Winterfell shall meet us one day; when it sees you, it’ll realize another marvel has joined the North”. He promised, not before melting into her hands and under her gaze.
But those golden times are now dead, and that promise long forgotten. Daera thinks, deep in her chest, that Aemond’s love for her has done so as well. Something itched, and them something burned. Rage it is, perhaps, or rather the wroth of the broken heart of a wife betrayed by a husband, mocked and abused and toyed with.
The only thing that got the princess out of her thoughts were the hand of her husband reaching for hers, softly tangling their fingers. When she looks, she finds red cheeks, and snowflakes trapped between his brown curls. The image brought a smile to her, and some lightness to her chest.
—Shall we, wife?—. Jacaerys asked, smirking to her.
—We shall—. She bowed her head, giggling.
Though he noticed it with great interest, Jace did not mention how he saw Kalistrox and Vermax reaching for land as soon as they were near the Wall. It seemed almost automatic, as if they did not want to fly pass it. At the same time and at the same rhythm, golden and green dragon turned, flew lower, and soon took landing in a ground he could not see from his place. That they were near, there is no doubt, but it was still strange how they suddenly desired to be away from the skies and the sights of all.
After farewelling Balerion and Snow, having left them to kind stableboys, the princes found Lord Cregan standing close to them. When noticing him, they stay in their very place, standing with their elbows interlocked. They see him talking with a group of men, Olys between them, who nods with seriousness but, yet, a little smile on his lips while he attends to his lord.
—Cregan is almost giving his word—. The princess’ discreet whisper made the prince’s eyes wide—. I spoke with him while you were in your adventure—, she says.
—Right when I left?!—. He quickly complains.
—What can I say? I’m irresistibly inviting—. Daera sarcastically murmurs, which brought some laughs from his nose. He looks at her with great interest—. He said he recognizes the treachery that has been placed upon us; and that he has no intent to break the vows and oaths his father made—. She raises her brows.
—Oh- Daera! Then we have him!—. Prince Jacaerys smiles and flinches, but he grew troubled when his wife sighed heavily—. What is it? —, he questions.
—Something is holding him back, whether it is his men or his…fucking fear of kinslaying—. She scoffs, rolling her eyes for a second—. We have yet to see what he can muster for us, brother—. The princess pointed out, whispering, and being closely listened to.
—We shall take it, nevertheless—. The prince pointed as well. His wife sighed again, but slowly nodded. A part of her wanted to fight against his easy accepting, but another part of her -one that grows strangely fond of the Warden of the North and his especial way of being- forced her to just wait on to see how things would turn out with him—…Let him come to us—, he murmurs, softly squeezing her hands.
—Very well—. She agreed within a nod, looking around as well as he did—. Come—. Daera cocks her head, and starts to walk, taking him with her.
Side by side and elbows-locked, the black-dressed spouses walk with chins up and easy smiles, looking ahead while they go between the people and dogs and knights. Many turn to look at them, some even with the poorest dissimulation, analyzing them from feet to head.
Some stare at Daera’s white mane, other to Jacaerys’ simple brown hair. Some smile and nod, others roll their eyes and snort. Whatever the reaction, true it is that the princes’ presence causes great furor between the smallfolk of the North. Thinking about their fawning over his wife, instead of their mocks towards his hair, the prince leans to her.
—A paint of you might last longer for them—. He amusedly whispered, lightly raising his brows.
The painting of her and Aemond wanted to flash before her memories. Before allowing so, she spoke.
—Have you not grown accustomed already of how much people delight in looking at us?—. The princess wonders with a funny voice, glancing to their surroundings, where the people walk, peek at them, and then whisper or laugh.
—I did right to assume you yourself must be pretty familiar with the constant attention, sister—. The prince speaks easily, looking around too. Biting her inner cheeks, she smiles—. Men, as you might know, drool and stumble when in the presence of a beautiful woman—, he said, turning to look at her with flirty brown eyes.
—Ah, do they?—. The princess narrows her purple ones, looking back at him. He chuckles, quickly glancing for a second to Lord Stark, who at the same time looked back at them—. I hadn’t notice—. She shrugged, and her husband smiles—. Sarah Snow, at least, is finally deprived of her dull favor over you—. Prideful and cocky, she shakes her shoulders.
Jace sucks the inner of his cheeks, adoring the jealousy she speaks and acts with every time Sarah Snow is the subject. He likes this new feeling, like…belonging to someone, in this intimate way.
—Count yourself lucky, wife—. Jacaerys says, lightly squeezing her elbow. Daera bites a smirk, seeing how Lord Stark is at last approaching to them—. I’m the one suffering, enduring all these men fawning over you—. He, then, mumbled, leaning to her.
—Let them wag—, she scrunched her nose. And they stop walking.
—My princes—. Lord Cregan speaks from the distance, walking to them with his usual steady steps.
—I, at least, am very sure about who gets to ride me at night—. The princess whispered to her husband’s ear. He got tense, taking a deep breath in—. My lord—, she suddenly smiles, looking back at him.
—I am so bold as to presume you are enjoying the sights—. Stark speaks with some kind of pride, twirling his lips into a smirk when he reached the princes, who kindly smiled at him.
—We do—, she nodded.
—We surely are! —, the prince answered with obvious excitement, raising his brows. Both his wife and the lord look at him with pressed smiles.
—I am glad—. Cregan nods—. Well, now I may proceed to present you to the Night Watch’s commander, a good friend of mine, and some of the brothers who’d like t’ know you as well—. He mannerly informed, pointing the way ahead.
—We shall, of course—. The princess is quick to accept. Her husband nodded with the same enthusiasm, interested in meeting the people of The Wall.
—Then…—. Leading the way, Lord Cregan turned his head to lightly smirk at them—…You may find even greater views—. He promised.
•••
—Duty…is sacrifice—
The princes of Dragonstone were met by the Commander of the Night Watch, and the whole of Castle Black’s crew; some were delighted to meet them, others terrorized by the sights of their dragons. Jacaerys and Daera, as they oft are, were gentle and approaching to the people of The Wall, blessing them with smiles and good wishes and will.
After the meetings and presentations, Lord Cregan Stark walks alone with the princes, having them for himself as they follow him. He now speaks with wisdom and thoughtfulness, for seconds before the princess had asked “What will happen to Olys’ dreams of his future, now that it’s been determined for him?”, referring to the young man who is now a Sworn Brother of the Watch.
—It eclipses all things, even blood—. With his marked accent, he’s listened by the princes, who walk besides him with curious eyes—. All men of honor must pay its price—. He decreed, with tones as soothing as the wind around them.
Guided though a narrow hall of ice walls, Jacaerys nods to some men around, while his wife raised her brows before the lord’s words.
—Sounds…like a great cost, then—. She confessed, not imagining how it must be to give up everything just by the sake of what is perceived as honor. If it were for “honor”, her brothers -Rhaenyra’s sons- would be dead…and her very step-mother as well. Daera and her family, as we’ve seen firsthand, know little of honor. They’ve given the word their own meaning; to do what must be done.
Lord Stark sides a little smile to her, amused by her simpleness. Under his cold grey eyes, she cocks her head, expecting for an answer.
—The North owes a great duty to the Seven Kingdoms—. He said, and the spouses look attentive, swearing he’s talking about kings and crowns and banners. His lordship is the only one to know the true of his meaning—. One older than any oath—. Cregan stressed, lifting his frown.
Jace knits his, curious. While he shared a glance with his wife, Lord Stark signaled to one of his men, and this one opened a door for them. It was not a door that took them to the insides of a room, but that of an elevator instead.
Before stepping in, both gentlemen offered their hands to the lady, who took them with gladness, accepting the help to enter to it. Cregan let her hand go; Jace did not.
—How old of an oath do you speak of, m’ lord?—. The young prince curiously asked, while the iron box starts to go up.
—Since the days of the First Men, we have stood as guardians against the cold and the dark—. Stark’s words are so thoughtful that he seems to be reading them from a book. Listening in silence, Daera blinks, looking at the people below, who were turning little and littler as they went upwards—. Through its long tradition, the Night’s Watch cultivated its strength from doomed man who had their life as their only possession—, he says.
Staring at the grey-eyed, Jacaerys blinks with slowness, wondering to himself if The Wall would be the fitting place for the betrayers of his family. As reluctant to kinslaying as his queen mother, the prince took gladness in imagine Aegon, Aemond and Otto Hightower forced to take the black and live the rets of their lives as brothers of the Watch. An ingenious way to both punish their crimes and evade bloodshed.
—But my ancestor, Torrhen Stark, began a tradition by making an offering at the onset of winter—. Lord Cregan’s voice gets the prince out of his political thoughts. Quickly, he glances at his wife, who looks at her sword’s handle with a frown—. One in ten men from our household was to be chosen to fortify the Watch—, he softly tells, reciting history.
—Um—. Daera nods, crestfallen, still troubled by the way his lordship’s cousin found his destiny.
—This is not a sentence, but an honor—. Cregan narrows his eyes to the both of them, talking with passion. She looks up at him and sides a little smirk, thinking to herself that they cannot come more northerner than this—. A duty embraced by all who serve the North, even mine own kind—. He lifts his chin with pride and looks down at her with a growing grin.
—I am given to understand, that your very cousin himself, Olys, finds that…honor in this new duty of him, then—. The prince supposes, lightly narrowing his eyes.
Cregan looks at him and, with a stiff lip, nods several times, letting him know that his cousin does, indeed, understand the conditions and meanings of his recent oath. The princes stare at him in silence, taking his harsh nods for a serious answer.
—The North must stand ready—. Lord Cregan decrees—. Winter is coming—. His words were like a warning, and the princess cocked her head.
—"Coming”?—. Jace repeated, forming a sudden smile his wife looked at with softening eyes—. What is this, then, that falls from the skies and shivers my bones?—. He funnily asked, suddenly lightening the air, Daera’s sweet prince.
—This is only a late summer snow, my prince—. Cregan answered, taking in some of that lightness.
—You dare call this “summer”?—. Daera opens her eyes widely, and now it’s her husband who chuckled, whilst the lord formed a little smile.
—In winter, it will cover all you see, and all memories of warmth will be forgotten—. Cregan simply shrugged, knowing it firsthand. Jace looks at him thoughtfully, and Daera giggled.
—It sounds like you should travel to Pentos some time, my lord—. The princess recommends with amusement, gaining an interested silent look from him—. It would surprise you, I’d wager, how hot it can turn to be; hotter than summer itself, some claim—. She smiles and raises her brows to him, cocky.
Lord Cregan’s body turned more to her than to the prince, answering her smile in between silent blinks. Looking, Jacaerys felt some sudden discomfort on his chest and the bottom of his belly. He found himself misliking the smirks they’re sharing.
Glancing at the lord from head to toe, the prince brings politics into the conversation once again.
—It pleases me to think that over a century ago our ancestors treated in this very place—. He commented, and that was enough for the lord’s attention to be back to him. In silence, Daera sighs with pride, thinking of that tale she used to hear every night from Daemon’s mouth when she was a child; The King who Knelt. Having colder memories, his lordship slowly furrows his brows—. The Conqueror and the King in The North—, he proudly names.
—You, at least, had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon—. Lord Cregan cockily answered, drawing his gaze away from him.
That left Jace wordless. At the same time, the elevator stopped, and the three of them flinched a little when the box abruptly halted. While Cregan approaches to the door, Daera looks at him as approaching to her husband, smirking almost with evilness.
Though having felt ashamed when Stark shoved on his face the brutal way Aegon the Conqueror claimed the North as his, calm found him once again when his wife approached to stroke his arms, and look proudly at him.
—My lord—, a brother saluted Cregan, who came out from the elevator first.
—Good—. Daera whispered only for her husband to hear. She thinks it was only admirable how good placed it was to remember the Lord of the North who has the upper hand, and always have: the dragonriders.
Trying to hide a smile, he came out with her by his side, soon welcomed by a chilling and stronger breeze in their faces and hair. Stark eyes them, making sure they’re with him.
—M’ princes—. Two men nod at them, and they nod back at him.
—M’ lord—. A man carrying a wooden box walks past them—. My princes—. He saluted to them as well. Jacaerys nodded.
—Goodbye, Andolf—. The princess, good in remembering names, smiled to him. The gentleman felt lucky, and fastened his steps while chewing a smile, running to tell his friends how the princess of Dragonstone is besotted with him.
Lord Stark cocks his head to them, signaling to follow. Doing so, Daera’s lips twisted into a smile while staring at his back.
—You must not be offended by history, my dear lord—. She tenderly speaks, as a mother scolding her child. Looking over his shoulders, and slowing down his steps, he raises a brow to her. She never lets a comment to stay behind her lips and tongue; he’s noticed—. It is only history that has brought us here, together—. The princess pointed out with obviousness, shrugging.
—And surely the great Torrhen Stark would’ve sooner died than bend the knee, unless he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms—. Echoing his wife’s meanings, the prince speaks firmly. At the same, he looks around the ceiling-less hallway they walk through; they’re at the top of the Wall.
—…You are right in that—. Lord Cregan, never as prideful as to lie, agreed with them.
—That unity is now threatened—. Prince Jacaerys immediately warned.
—As you’ve told me—, he nods to his words.
—As you’ve said you pondered about—. Princess Daera raises her brows, walking besides him. In the middle of the spouses, he takes a breath in—. Torrhen Stark’s wisdom and understanding has passed down to his descendants, or has it not, my lord? —. Sarcastically, she wonders, batting her lashes.
The prince is direct, but the princess is harsh. Listening to how she speaks to him, some men around look away or from very closely, expecting to see the reaction of their lord. But, apparently far from their assumptions, he seems to be accepting of her challenges and pressures; entertained by them, even.
—If my blood does not fail me, my princess, I believe it has—. Cregan answered, looking at her with the respect a lady deserves, though some amusement shines on his grey pearls.
—Hm—. She narrows her eyes, smirking—. Should we share our own wisdom, husband?—. Daera asks, turning to look at him. Cregan does so too, and the prince was not slow to speak.
—The realm will soon tear itself apart—, he raises his brows—, if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir—. Jace declared with firmness, holding tight to his wife’s elbows.
—Starks do not forget their oaths, my princes—. The lord is also quick to talk, leaning to the both of them, who look at him, him being the tallest—. But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South—. He determined, his accent dancing along his tongue.
—Align your eyes then—. The princess scoffs under her breath, resting her hands on her sword’s handle. The lord decided it was not time to laugh, so he held any show of amusement, but her husband did break a smile, but soon hid it—. What stops you, my lord? We beg you to speak it at last—, she sighed.
—In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing—. With no further ado, Lord Stark confessed it to them. Daera opened her eyes hugely, nearly cursing out loud, while Jacaerys stopped walking, and scowled to him with no dissimulation—. I need my men here—. He declared.
The princes are clearly offended, not believing his weak pathetic try of excuse. He, however, remains unfazed by their clear discomfort.
—Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne!—. Jacaerys rises his firm voice, insulted by his easy dismission of his mother’s seat, crown and rights. Before the prince even ended his sentence, Lord Stark kept on walking forward.
—Already have!—. Daera stressed, outraged, following him along her brother to some wood stairs his lordships began to climb.
—If our mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army—. Jace put it plainly. Daera couldn’t help but to lightly shiver when Rhaenyra was referred as her mother, but she paid no great attention to that, more concentrated in the pressing matters—. War is coming, to the whole of the realm, my lord—. He warned.
—To every land before The Wall—. Daera furrows her brows, taking place between the two brown-haired.
While Jacaerys looks to the hallway they left, she looks up to the lord, who she sees looking forward with cold eyes.
—We cannot wage it without the…—, the prince looks forward too—…support of the North…—. And his voice went lower, until disappearing in the wind.
He was left flabbergasted, and when his wife looks, she ends up the same way. Lord Cregan stops walking, serious, and let them to keep walking forward. With their lips parted and their eyes narrowed, the princes stood side to side and looked at the sea of snow, mountains and trees that grows after the Wall.
Breathless, Jace looks around, and find all the same; emptiness, yet an eerie weird feeling of unknown things and terror dwelling between those dark trees and misty mountains. With her throat afflicted, Daera tries to find some sign of life in between that white ocean; a person, a wolf, a bug, anything. But she found none. Endless nothingness.
Not needing to hear their words, Cregan knew they’ve been left speechless, just as he wanted too. He approaches again, and stands besides the princess, taking side with them to look down to the white forest.
Serious, he turns to look at them.
—My father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see The Wall—. He tells, and the princes listen. Daera presses her lips when thinking of the great-grandparents she could never meet—. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it—. Cregan told them while looking around, stone-faced.
Daera does not like that part of the story. Jace gulped, silently remembering when he saw Vermax and Kalistrox taking land as soon as they flew near The Wall. Right before crossing it, they turned and descended, and did not raise again. The thought brings shivers to him more than the snow does.
—…What do you mean?—. The princess asked within a whisper, still searching for any life prove in that forest. Stark looks at them, and leans closer, staring right into their eyes.
—Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?—. His Lordship spoke coldly and serious, letting them know his offense on the prince’s prior words.
They furrow their brows, looking at him with confusion.
—What does it keep out?—. Jace was not shy in asking, serious. Pressing her lips, Daera looks at the lord, expecting for an answer as well.
—…Death—. And when it came, it made then shiver once again.
The Heir to the Iron Throne gulped, and glance away, returning his brown eyes to the woods below. His princess, on the other hand, sighed through her nose, and kept staring at the grey-eyed.
—Death might as well fall upon us, if we do not face this threat in time—. The white-curled woman declared, as serious as honest. The weight of her tone made his face to soften with true listening. The purple eyes that look at him are almost begging, and how much that pained her—…Until then, the living can very well wage war and bring terrors too, Cregan—. Her voice became even softer.
The princess does not, and will never know, about how well-chosen her words were, and how they impacted on Lord Cregan’s wider insight. He took air and look away, pressing his lips.
Then, he spoke again.
—I have thousands of graybeards who’ve already seen too many winters—. Stark says, gaining the prince’s brown eyes back to him—. They are…well-honed—. He leans his head closer, mumbling to them.
—Graybeards—. Daera murmurs to herself, accepting.
—So they’re old?—. Jacaerys did voice some doubt, and the lord pressed a scoff.
—My father is old—. The princess named, and they both knew what she meant; old or young, her father is Daemon Targaryen.
That brought a smile to her husband, and a smirk from the lord too.
—I can ready them to march at once—. Cregan determined with disposition, nodding while looking at the princess, whose eyes shined.
—If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them—. Prince Jacaerys nodded, prideful and accepting.
—At once, as you said—. Daera stresses with a growing smile, nodding too.
—At once, princess—. He looks down to smirk at her, who pursed her lips—. Oh, they will fight hard—. He assured to the prince—…Like northerners—. Cregan proudly added, leaning to them.
—Fuck yes! Finally—. The Rogue Princess openly shows her relief, placing her hands on the railing of wood. Her husband showed a smile, and his lordship pressed one, looking at her.
Daera sighed for a good minute, closing her eyes, and feeling a hope installing on her chest, granting her that everything would be fine and that they’ll come down from the Wall to mount their dragons with happy news.
It was not meant to be.
—My lord!—
A fourth voice joined the private meeting, which made both Cregan and the princes to turn with attentive eyes. They find a guard approaching with obvious haste.
—A raven’s arrived—. He informed, breathing fast while handing a rolled paper to Lord Stark. For some reason, his eyes lingered longer in the princes than in his own lord, which made Daera to slowly furrow her brows—. Urgent news from Dragonstone—. He quickly added.
Having been looking at the paper, Cregan then looked up with surprise. Jacaerys flinched, wandering his eyes around the guard, the paper, the lord and his wife, and this one took a step forward with alert, staring at the paper too.
Lord Stark unrolls the note with no awaiting. Meanwhile, the couple glance at each other with great confusion.
—T’ fuck is this?—. Daera barks, shrugging with unquietness.
The guard had left, so they only could stare at Cregan reading the message silently. The previous smile he had formed with them faded away within a blink. His shoulders stiffened, and it almost looked like his heart skipped a beat. That was bad.
It became worst when he looked at them within a second, his grey eyes dyeing with concern whilst his lips parted with what looked to be nerves. The sight of Lord Stark nervous troubled them a lot.
—My Lord?—. Jace is quick to asks, afflicting his throat.
—We should…—Stark looks at the worried brown eyes, and the alert purple ones—…come down already—. He ordered.
—Cregan—. Jacaerys and Daera insisted at the same time, wide-eyed—. Tell us now—, the princess swiftly demanded.
—We shall come down—. Wrinkling the paper on his hands, Stark turned around and headed out on his own, expecting for them to follow him.
Jace did not wait a second; he took Daera’s hand and pulled her quickly. They walk down the stairs with fastness whilst Lord Cregan opens the elevator’s doors for them.
—Would you tell us already, my lord?!—. The prince demands, impossible for him to keep calm with all this senseless discretion.
The elevator begins to come down, and they flinch, but did not pay mind to it. Their attention relies elsewhere.
—We shall meet more privately on a hall—. Stark declares, serious and looking down; he is no longer staring at either of them. His chest is beating hard below his furs and clothes.
—No, fuck! Tell us now, Cregan!—. Insulting and hot-heated, the princess insists. He remains stiff, not caring about it. At her side, Jace breathes fast, staring at the paper clutched to his hand—. This is not fair proceeding!—. Her voice trembled for a second.
—FASTER!—. Cregan’s scream reached their men, and the elevator started to come down quicker than before, getting them every time closer to land.
—Let us read the letter, my lord, if it’s from our family—. Still trying to be the calmer one, Jacaerys opens his hands to him.
Stark looks away, still evading their eyes.
—Oh my…!—, Daera takes a deep breath, walking in circles—…FUCKING GODS!—. She anxiously shrieked, thinking of everyone, everything.
The elevator’s doors opened, once again, and Lord Stark was the first to walk out of it, quickly. The prince followed even quicker, walking at his sides with despair and big eyes.
—Are you done with your silence, my lord, or will you finally tell us what’s on the bloody letter?!—. The princess curses and whines with no shame, not caring about all the people around them. Cregan presses his lips, glancing at some closed doors ahead—. Has the cold taken your tongue?!—. She scoffs, breathless.
—Daera…—. Jacaerys whispered, but it was not to ease her rage, but for something he noticed.
A normal reaction from the northerners when seeing someone speaking to their lord like that would be menacing glares or interruptions even, but the people around are weird. They are either looking down or looking straight at them. Some cover their mouths, some murmur with concerned frowns.
Many look at them with pity and shame.
—What?—. Jace mumbles under his breath, growing even more scared, not understanding a single thing of the happenings.
—Please, come in—
He realizes Cregan has opened a door, and is now pointing inside it so they may enter. The princess, however, stood her ground, and made Jace to stop as well.
—No!—. She firmly denied. Lord Stark gulps and looks at her almost with pleading eyes, as if inside that room was better than here, under the sights of everyone—. What you will tell, you can tell it here—. She determined.
The brothers of the Night Watch, gathered all around, stare with open eyes, completely silent. Cregan looks at them with pressed lips and a fallen frown, still with the paper remaining on his hands only.
—Daera…—. For the first time ever, he spoke her name, and he did it with begging, truly wanting them to go inside.
—No—. She shook her head.
—What do you know?—. Jacaerys asked with a firm voice, never blinking.
The Lord of Winterfell stares at them both for a few more seconds of silence. He knew, then, that his efforts of bringing them to some privacy might as well be in vain. So, finally accepting their boldness and despair, he opened his hand.
—Your father has written—. Lord Cregan informed, this time looking at the princess, whose shoulders fell loose.
—Dad?—, a string of voice left her lips.
Jacaerys took the paper from one second to another, taking off from Cregan’s hand, who made a fist to the side of his body. The prince wrinkles the paper, and gulps while still looking at him.
The prince turned to look at his wife, who looks back at him with a closed throat. Afterwards, Jace directs his glance to a not-so-distant hill of snow that rose behind all the men of the Night’s Watch, who are still very aware of them.
Following his gaze, Daera immediately understand. Without the needing of words, they both turned and began to head there, holding hands. With his eyes casted down, Lord Cregan pressed his lips, and followed them from the distance.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, use of drugs, male masturbation, oral sex {f!receiving}, explicit sex {p on v}, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•••
《 What Prince Aemond longs, prince Jacaerys has 》
•••
-What we told you is no slight, Lord Cregan-. Daera’s voice echoes around, speaking softly and slowly. Standing besides her, Jacaerys eyes her in silence, his jaw clenched-. But action is of need; the sooner, the better-. The princess declared, placing her open hands on a table when leaning herself front.
In the North, the day is already turning into night. The moon is not fully in display yet, but the skies are dyed of a color between purple and blue; perhaps a tone close to Queen Helaena’s eyes, but as of now she is far away from us to know. The breeze blows cold, carrying snowdrops by the million with it; a strong snowfall began in earnest an hour ago.
Winterfell’s castle, always well prepared for this weather, covers its habitants with thick stone walls and bedsheets of fur. In a big hall of it, however, comfort is not the priority right now, but laws and politics.
Two guards firmly stand outside, whilst servants and maidens happen in front of the closed doors every minute, constantly trying to have a peek of the ongoings of inside, though their attempts have given no fruit. Everyone knows Lord Cregan is having an audience with the royal guests; Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Princess Daera Targaryen. Their subject of discussion, however, is unbeknownst to everyone but them three.
-What action would you need of me?-. Lord Stark questioned with a serious yet interested voice. Though he spoke to the princes, his hands and eyes dwell in a rolled paper he holds; in it, he’s found Queen Rhaenyra’s handwriting, and her calling to him to remember his father’s oath to her as rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, to join their side against common foes, and to bend the knee.
The Young Wolf of the North now knows everything he needed to know. From the death of King Viserys “The Peaceful”, to the usurping of the throne and the great treason their own kin have committed against them. All news spoken to him were heavy, thus the princess’ word could not be more certain; this is not slight.
-The Queen needs an army-. Prince Jacaerys answered with stillness, raising his brows while placing his hands on his sword’s handle, which is sheathed on his belt.
Lord Cregan’s brows came up as well, lighter than the prince’s. He looks at them, keeping silence for some seconds as he thinks of his people, their devotion to him, and his devotion to them. We will not lie; the word “army” brought some uneasiness to the Lord’s chest, for he was expecting to dine and play with his son this evening, not to plot war.
-Will you march to King’s Landing?-. Cregan asks, almost with attitude, wanting to know their exact plant.
-We’ll fly to it-. Princess Daera answered with a stiff lip and a lifted chin, staring at him. His lordship looks at her with quiet eyes, reading her face-. But an army still counts as a requisite to fulfill our purpose-. She states, lightly cocking her head.
-With our dragons and The North by our side, the Greens will soon come to realize they do not stand a chance against us-. Her husband, standing right by her side, in front of a warm fireplace, speaks with great determination, forever looking at him-. And bloodshed will not be of need-. He says hopeful.
Daera presses her lips and sighs through her nose, briefly looking down when listening to that. Inevitably, she only thinks about how much she desires to -we’re tired of listening to this- take Aegon’s head for once and for all, along his mother and grandfather’s. Aemond’s, she believes, may stay in his body, as well as his soul, but not without a fitting price.
Lord Cregan sighed through his nose and left the paper on the table. That action made the princes to nearly flinch; they pay total attention to him. The young lord simply takes some steps away, wandering around the room while he thinks, not minding them much. Curious, Daera and Jace look at each other sideways.
This brief look made their eyes to soften a little. Taking advantage of the fact that both of them had their hands on the table, he extended his pinky, and she did the same with hers. Their pinkies brushed, like a silent sign of support. Maintaining a firm expression, Daera averted her gaze, while Jacaerys continued to look at her for a few moments longer, allowing himself a faint smile for two seconds. Then, he also looked ahead.
-When war is sudden…-Lord Cregan speaks with thoughtfulness while he slowly halts his steps-…much is lost-. He said, raising his blue-steel gaze to look at them.
-Then let it be brief, and quick-. Prince Jacaerys answered within a second, confidently shrugging. His wife fought against herself to not let out a smirk-. Be at our side to bring balance to the realm again, as we take back what is ours-. He insists with wide eyes, leaning his head forward.
Lord Stark possesses a listening expression while they talk. It looks like, besides them, he also listens to his own thoughts and wisdoms.
-Your father, Lord Rickard Stark, made an oath to King Viserys and, with that, to Queen Rhaenyra; he pledged his fealty to her, as rightful Heir to The Iron Throne-. Princess Daera speaks with both passion and a minded respect. She raises her brows, her purple eyes never leaving his blues.
-I know my histories, princess, my father taught them to me well-. Lord Stark softly speaks, nodding to her. Daera seals her lips, narrowing her eyes a little, reckoning some cockiness on his voice; he sounded like her-. I only wish for you to understand me; this news is not slight but sudden, as you goodly said, my lady-. He nods to Daera and eyes the both of them.
-Indeed, we ken-. Jacaerys is quick to agree with him, opening a hand in the air. His wife’s gaze, on the other side, got sharper. Lord Cregan gave a little smile to her husband.
-I would like some time to consider a decision, my princes-. He formally asked for, briefly raising his brows.
-You shall have it-. Jace nodded with not one doubt, granting it to him. But before Lord Stark couldn even thank the time, princess Daera let out a bemused grunt, opening her eyes big towards the ceiling, and walking away from the table.
Both men immediately stiffen, looking at her curly mane bouncing on her back, and her long black skirt moving along her feet when she headed to the fireplace with heaviness.
-Please do speak your mind, princess-. Lord Cregan asks with honest curiosity, while Jacaerys stares at her with some worry, wondering if she did not agree with his granting. He, however, did not repentance it.
Princess Daera took his asking with all the gratefulness of the realm.
-While you think about it, Aegon Targaryen sits The Iron Throne and rapes his sister and her maidens-. She suddenly hissed, turning her face to look at him with clear unquietness. His lordship takes a slow step front, staring at her with narrowed interested eyes.
-Daera-. Her husband is quick to name, surprised by the way she blatantly spoke to the lord to. She, nevertheless, clenched her jaw tighter.
-I respect you greatly, Lord Cregan, please do not doubt that-. Daera raises her hands with innocence, pointing at him, who listens with a soft expression-. Yet time is of the essence-, she quickly shook her head from side to side.
-As well as my right to consider-. Stark raised his brows to her, expecting for what her answer may be. When listening to him, Daera’s cheeks raised, and she smiled almost warmly while looking at him, but her eyes told him another story: she feels helpless, and desperate.
-No insult to you, my lord, but we shouldn’t be asking-. The white-haired princess determined with no shame nor shyness, shaking her head. Jacaerys opened his eyes big, taking a breath in while he, inevitably, agrees with her, though not so much with her manners-. Nor praying for help and aid to free the realm from that mummer’s terror-. She denied.
Lord Stark watches her with thoughtful eyes, thinking to himself that she may be, in true, truly worried about the people. Keeping his gaze, Daera gulps, with her throat afflicted and her eyes a little flickery, taking breath in.
-‘Tis our birthright to have them-. The princess declared, referring to aid and help.
-But your birthright has been stolen-. Lord Stark points out, calculatingly.
-Then help us take it back, Cregan-. Daera’s voice rose with firmness and almost insistence, lifting her brows to him, throwing away the formalities.
In that moment, silence got a hold of the three of them. With soft eyes, Jacaerys stares at his wife, who he saw sniffing her nose and looking away. Cregan looks at her as well, thoughtful, not even minding her clear lack of respect.
-Be brief-. The princess mumbled under her breath, walking away.
Without looking at any of the two, she walked to the doors, opening them herself, and heading out to another part of the castle. While the guards closed again, the two brown-haired men turned to look at each other.
Silently, Cregan sided a tiny graceless smile. Looking at it, the prince sighed and spoke.
-I apologize for my wife-. He sincerely says, playing with the handle of his sword. Taking some steps forward, the lord shakes his head with dismission-. Sometimes she can be a little too…-, he narrows his eyes, finding the right word.
-Rogue-. Lord Cregan completed his sentence with easiness. Sighing, the princess’ husband nodded, agreeing with a little smile-. I know her soubriquet-. He confesses, nodding to a side-. Is not lust for the throne that drives her, I can see-. He confesses, crossing his hands on his abdomen.
-But for justice-. Jacaerys quickly stresses with passion.
-And her people-. Stark stressed as well, cunningly narrowing his eyes. The prince slowly closes his lips, realizing that too-. Your wife speaks true; a treachery has been committed, one between kin at that-. He raises his brows and shakes his head, getting near to the fire-…Unforgivable by the Gods-. He whispers, staring at the flames.
-Then….-, carefully, Jacaerys heads to the fireplace as well, cocking his head to a side-…you will join us?-. He questions, arriving to his side, and turning his head to look at him.
-I also speak a reality, my prince-. Lord Stark’s hoarse yet soft voice speaks to him with calm-. I have a duty here, in Winterfell. My men are working hard and tiredly, their wives as well and their children will too-. He declares with seriousness.
-What for, m’ lord?-. Prince Jacaerys asks with honest interest, not knowing what purpose could be greater than that to aid the crown and lay waste to its foes and abusers.
Lord Cregan looks at him, does not answer the question, and looks at fire flames again. Pressing his lips, Jace sighed through his nose, serious.
-No blood has or needs to be spilled-. The wise prince speaks with true-. When realizing that the kingdoms have joined our cause, our enemies will have no choice but to flee by themselves from what is rightfully ours-. He whispers with hope and assurance, raising his brows.
There is silence for some seconds, in which the northerner lord narrowed his eyes with curiosity, suddenly wondering why they do not seem as eager as one would expect to employ the greatest power and weapon known to men only they possess.
-You have dragons; tons of ‘em-. Lord Cregan pointed out.
-It won’t come to the dragons-. Prince Jacaerys was fast to deny, shaking his head. His lordships looks at him, and listens with true interest-. Not if we end this by diplomacy, and reasoning-. He firmly declared.
Lord Stark nods slowly, staring at him. Staring back, and feeling the fire of near calling to his blood of the dragon, the prince lightly clenched his jaw, and headed his brown eyes to the dancing burning flames, thinking about everything at risk, everything that could go wrong.
-…End a war before it begins-. Jacaerys Velaryon, with tones as heavy as a storm, proposed in a low tone.
Cregan Stark heard him from close, slowly blinking, and keeping a straight quiet face while doing so. Moments after, he looks up to the prince.
-You’ve granted me time-. He says-. I shall go and employ it wisely-. Stark raises his brows to him. The prince starts to nod, serious, not taking his own word back-. You and your wife are welcomed to me and my man, on the morrow; we ride to The Wall after one chooses the Black Stone-. Easier than before, he sides a smile to him.
Jacaerys’ diplomat façade faded when his historian one came to light as the invitation was given to him. The ceremony of the Black Stone, as he has read, is one custom of the North, where a handful of man are given rocks in an aleatory way; that who gets a white-silver one, must abandon every land, woman and holding of his, and dedicate his life to no other place than The Night Watch.
-My wife and I shall join you gladly, my lord-. Jacaerys agrees within a second, smiling with some excitement he tried to hide.
-Very well, I may expect for you at the main yard-. Lord Cregan nods, smirking as well.
-We, as well, shall expect your answer-. Jace confidently yet cautiously said, slowly lifting up his brows. Cregan sighs lightly through his nose, beginning to nod-…Tomorrow-. He added.
-You and your wife shall have it, prince-. Stark promised with no dithering.
Somewhat relieved, the young prince nods with his head, taking air in to fill his chest.
-The sooner, the better-. He declares, just as Daera had done before. He smiles lightly, thoughtful-…Our mother needs us home-. Jacaerys assured.
•••
When princess Daera goes to her monthly visits to King’s Landing, as her godsmother’s duties make her to, seldom she finds herself sleeping at the bedchambers Queen Alicent Hightower so meticulously readies for her before her arrival. Instead, the princess used to find more comfort in her cousins’ beds, whether it was Helaena’s or Aemond’s (specially his, though).
Let it not be thought, however, that the Rogue Princess never found comfort in these bedchambers of hers. As someone of her station is owed, her room in Maegor’s Holdfast -a castle within a castle, as many historians describe the structure to be- are big and expensive and fancy. Overall, it was witness of many a meal and love making of the princess and her favorite; her true husband -as she used to call him- prince Aemond Targaryen.
After rides in their dragons, games with their niblings, embroideries with Helaena and quarrels with Aegon, more than one or two or three times the Targaryen spouses came to these very rooms; oft it was to make people think Aemond was not at the castle, for he wouldn’t be seen in his chambers nor in the training patio. He would be thought away in the skies, with his green beast Vhagar. No one would ever think they could find the One-Eyed Prince at the apartments of his so hated cousin. That’s what they went there.
And that’s why Aemond is, presently, here.
“As if we needed more children toying with powers they do not understand” were the words his beloved mother, Queen Dowager Alicent, hissed to him in the Dragonpit, many hours ago already, shaming him in front of his brothers, sister, niblings, mentor, and dragonkeepers. The public shame was not the worst part of it, no, but the fury she spoke to him with.
The day he returned from the stormlands, he gathered all of his family at the Dowager Queen’s chambers, and told them firsthand what had happened. He walked into that room as Aemond One-Eyed Targaryen. With his decision of telling no one that the murder was an accident (though he deeply wished it) he walked out as Aemond the Kinslayer. Time after time, and however the way, the Strong Bastards find their way to stain his name.
As soon as Lucerys Velaryon shrieked when Vhagar went against him, and was eaten and gulped by her, Aemond knew he would have the hatred and rage from many corners of the realm. He did never expect, however, those ill feelings coming from the corners of his very home, his family.
The prince looks down, clenching his jaw. At the moment, he sits on a golden chesterfield, right in front of the fireplace of the room, which he lighted as soon as he came in. He has been here for hours, since he stormed out of the Dragonpit, hiding beneath Daera’s doors while the world outside grows mad and madder. He does too, though he does not know yet what we do, and names his feelings as sadness and loneliness.
There is a metal cup placed above the fire, and a white thin liquid is almost starting to boil in it. Aemond looks at it with a harsh eyes and humid lips. He sniffs his nose and, without looking, he raises a hand, and touches the back of the seat he is in. When his fingers touched leather, he sighed, and closed his eye.
A black leather coat drapes in the back of the chesterfield; it smells like dragon, lavender and Daera’s skin, or so he thinks. If it was on purpose he does not know, but she left it here before departing to Dragonstone with her family, many days ago; the last time he saw her. ‘Tis the only thing he has from her, besides his eyepatch and the dresses and shoes on her wardrobe. But his eyepatch smells of him and those clothes smell of the wardrobe’s woods. It is this coat the one that smells like her, that is as soft and elegant as her.
Aemond hums, turning around his head to look at it. He gripped the leather between his fingers, and hummed again, imagining for a moment it was her waist what he squeezed. His mind, cruel and numb, made him to hear her moaning before his grip.
—Oh, husband…—
The prince flinches and looks around, opening his eye big. He, then, gulps, forcing himself to remember that he is alone, and she away. There’s no one here, but him and his thoughts.
It is mayhap the appropriate moment (“appropriate” would not be the most fitting word for the occasion, matters to note) to inform that Prince Aemond has drunk down two cups of Milk of The Poppy; it’s made his thoughts a mess, his mind placeless, and his senses a midwife’s tell; ridiculous and nonsensical. His heart, however, may be starting to feel way lighter than before. That alone was reason enough for him to have put another dose to brew in the fire.
Having grown extremely tired of these hard sad days, the prince has found solace tonight in the numbness the Milk of the Poppy offers him. A pathetic choice, his mind keeps telling him, but he has shushed his mind, and drank again. A droll tragedy.
Aemond sniffs his nose, wiping away a tear that had wanted to come out, but he did not allow it. He spread that tear on Daera’s cloak and then, slowly, proceeded to place a small kiss on it. Then he placed another one, longer, and then he hummed, suddenly getting away, and calling himself crazy.
He stands up, sighing while caressing his own nose, and then his jaw, leaving his hand to rest in there.
—Hurry—. Desperate, he mumbles to the fire, wanting it to burn faster.
Though he may not yet describe himself as a madman, he indeed feels he’s going insane. No one talks to him, but everyone stares at him. They murmur in the castle and in the streets equally, and surely in other parts of the realms too, already. Rosby and Duskendale, perhaps, which are closer to King’s Landing than any other, and if there is something word does fast in this world, is spread.
He feels like he’s losing all three women he has ever loved.
His sister, Helaena, carries fright and mistrust on her shoulders when either she or her children are with him; she is not touching him, nor smiling to him or accepting his helps. His mother, Alicent, is clearly outraged; angry by his doings and -he has noticed- sad for Rhaenyra and her loss, blaming him for his terrible doing, and apparently ignoring the way and feelings she raised him with, but that is a problem for another day. His wife, Daera, she is…
He does not know. The last time they saw each other, it was in the middle of curses, crying, tears and Moon Tea. She fled with her dragon, giving to him a last broken look, one that promised backlash and hatred. Helaena claims Daera still doesn’t know about Luke’s death, and the solemn idea honestly frightens him. Will it be worst, then, than how it was in Lovers Island that night? The only possibility frightens him.
Has he lost her?
The sudden ponder of his mind made him shiver. Almost automatically, as if his body decides on his own, he turns around and neared to his seat again, but did not take it. He grasps the black coat between his hands, nearing it to his face so he could smell it. Breathing in deeply, his eye rolled blank, and he felt something twitching inside of him when imagining Daera’s mouth and fingers wrapped around his cock, as he so much desires right now.
Grunting a breath out, the prince looks down, numbly. When he does, he is surprised by the vivid image of princess Daera Targaryen all on her knees in front of him, giving him his pleasure with her mouth while she looks up at him with dark eyes, and a smile that began to grow way too wide on her face. Aemond breathes fast, eternally looking at her, and then she laughs.
Daera faded.
The One-Eyed Prince gasps, taking a step back, and then looking around. His gaze fell on the fire and, within a second, he nearly ran to it, approaching with despair. One would had hoped the prince had come to his senses, declared this practice as madness, and poured out all of the Milk of the Poppy he had been readying for himself. Oh, how we wished.
But, instead of letting the flames enjoy of the tincture, Prince Aemond enjoyed it himself. With his riding gloves on, he grabbed the cup straight from the fire, not concealing the heat with any drape or whatsoever. Almost grunting, he threw his head back, and let the liquid to run his throat down, and up to his head and mind.
Aemond grumbles, licking his lips and letting the cup to fall on the floor, immediately forgetting about it. Wasted and free, the prince smiles foolishly, blinking slowly while staring forward. For a second, Daera smiled back at him, watching him with loving eyes and pursed lips.
—Love…—, he takes a step towards her, cupping her face.
The black leather coat wrinkles below his fingers. He walked forward, taking it with him until his forehead almost clashed against a wall. The prince breathes fast, feeling how the milk is making him to lose the worst of his feelings…and making the best to come out. Though, at what cost? While we see the cloth, he sees Daera.
Daera rubbed against him, moaning into the wall when feeling how quickly his cock started to grow in his pants and into her asscheeks, getting hard.
This fool -our fool- is confusing both textures and times. He now pretends, rather actually believes, that he is at that narrow alley of Flea Bottom where he and his wife had their first encounter, years ago. Their first touch, their bursting desires, the hiding, the smiles. He wants to go back, and his mind told so to the milk of the poppy.
The One-Eyed Prince moaned loudly, putting one hand on the wall and the other on her waist, letting her arm go. He moved against her with an increasing desire, being capable of feeling her lack of underclothes.
-You are madness itself…-, Aemond whispered that night, enslaved by her body’s lust. And his.
He is madness itself, losing himself in illusions and sorrows. This is only the beginning…of our prince’s fall.
He bit his lips, burying his pants deeper on her dress’ skirt. It is feeling so good, to be just rubbing and rubbing his erection against her fabric with force. She is so, so warm. And dragons do love fire.
The cloak gets endlessly wrinkled while he, against a wall of the lonely room, thrust into it with no stop. He bites it, he kisses it and breathes fastly above of it, gone to love and insanity, and love. And Daera.
Blinded by lust, he moaned as low as he could, massaging both sides of her waist while kissing her jaw and moving against her skirt. He was reaching more speed, almost cumming on his own pants.
-Do not stop-. That night, she pleaded to him, with her beautiful eyes closed.
The prince grunts savagely, thrusting into her coat with no stop while he hears her moans instead of his own. A vein pulses on his neck and on his forehead, pulsing along his fast breaths. He is sweating.
Aemond One-Eye harshly squeezed her waist, biting his lips at the same time he began to form a satisfied smile.
Aemond the Kinslayer threw his head back, afflicting his throat along a growly moan. He opens his eye big, staring at the golden ceiling of the room while a lonely tear rolled down his cheek. Cumming, he moans time after time, closing his eye, and squeezing the cloak tighter.
His sapphire darkened, hiding from him the ugliest of destinies.
•••
In Aemond’s delusions and hallucinations, Daera smiles with her cheek pressed against a wall, and her body against his; she moans and groans his name, endlessly, with total pleasure.
In reality, far and further away from him, the princess Daera stands with a sour expression and crossed arms on her chest. Her eyebrows are sharply cocked, and her purple eyes stare outside her bedchambers’ windows without a blink in the middle. Standing firmly, the princess could not be less happy.
After having grown desperate in her meeting with the Lord of Winterfell, Daera did him a favor, and walked out of the hall before her tongue got freer; rarely does the princess finds this wisdom regarding her…comportment, but as though rogue she may be, she’s not foolish to bark against Lord Stark while, at the same time, asking him for help. Instead, she let the rest to her prince husband, and now has come to the chambers they share, alone.
From the distance, between the snowfall and the clouds, she can catch a glimpse of the mountains Kalistrox and Vermax are nesting in. She cannot see them, but she can feel her golden ray, and how much he despises this place. The princess is not wrong. In those mountains, the green and golden dragon are constantly growling and shrieking, stressed by the lack of heat, mutton and lamb.
She sighs through her nose, briefly touching her chest while feeling Kalistrox in it. His presence brought her some calm, but, as much as she knows he’s uncomfortable, he knows she’s angry, and cannot do much about it, being this far from her. Thus, his curly-haired girl keeps staring outside with coldness and heaviness.
The princess presses her lips harder when, behind her, she hears the doors being opened. She did not turn an inch, and kept moveless, staring through the window. Daera did not need to look to know who had come in without previous notice. She kens how his steps sound, as well as that of his belt and sword being placed against a wall.
The door is closed, and locked. Silently, the prince Jacaerys took his wife’s sword from a dresser, and crossed it between the doors’ handle, as she had done last night. While doing all this, he just stares at her, from feet to toe. She is paying no heed to his presence, though he did not see the amused glim that briefly shone in her eyes when she heard the sword’s sound.
-Hmm…-, Jacaerys looks around for two seconds, walking forward. The fire is lit and keeps the room nearly as warm as last night. Nearly.
Then, he looks at her. She remains turned, arm-crossed and frozen, staring through the window. The prince stops walking at the middle of the room, between the bed and the fireplace and some steps behind her. Lightly cocking his head to a side, he watches her with softening eyes.
As well as Kalistrox, the prince Jacaerys knows her anger too.
-Lord Cregan invited us to join him on the morrow, after breaking fast-. He informs with a casual tone. Listening, the princess blinks while staring at the snow-. We will get to see the tradition of the Black Stone-. He says, lifting his chin and siding a quick smile.
-Wonderful-. Daera answered sharply, coldly and sarcastically. Jace sighed through his nose, letting his shoulders fell loose.
-…You were alone, with Lord Stark-. The prince suddenly points out, recalling when he found the two of them immersed in a private talk in the Godswoods. Daera furrows her brows a little, her chest beating fast when wondering if he was jealous.
-Yes, I was. Does that make you green-eyed, husband?-. The princess questions with cockiness, counting the snowflakes as they fall. She couldn’t help but to briefly smirk, narrowing her eyes sharper.
Behind her, Jacaerys gulped and quickly went to his defense.
-Nothing of the sort-. He denied, and she lowly huffed, almost rolling her eyes-. For a moment, I may have thought you were going to tell him about the treachery by yourself-. Jace confessed, making her chest softer. Daera eyes the skies, thinking to herself that she would have never done that-. But I am glad that was not the case; we agreed we would do it together-. He raises her brows.
Silently, Daera raises hers as well, almost burlesque.
-Yet, you seemed rather occupied-. While speaking with taunt, she finally starts to turn around, and faces him with a fake face of disinterest, shrugging. When looking at her, he breathes in deeply, admiring how the fire lighted her cleavage; she has taken off her cloak. Jacaerys immediately thinks about when he was helping Sarah Snow to carry provisions to the kitchen; his mouth fell to the floor-. Where you not?-, she interrupts his gasp.
-Daera-. Blushing, he sighs and looks around, briefly palming his own thighs. Daera eyed them, forcing herself to not remember what lies between them-. We are lucky you did not offended Lord Cregan-. He is quick to say, raising his brows.
-I spoke my true, the one that you agree with; we are owned this-. The princess spoke with entitlement and simpleness. An eye of Jace’s face seemed to concur with her, the other, to force disagreement-. It’s as simple as that-. She shrugged.
-We are both the Queen’s envoys, ought I remind you of that, sister?-. Jacaerys questions, narrowing his eyes and taking a step forward.
-More like her beggars-. With no shyness, she approached too, afflicting her throat and almost having roared her words. He clenches his jaw, cautiously looking at her-. We’re losing time, we must act!-. She raises her voice with insistence, staring into his brown eyes.
-We’re acting!-. He speaks the same way, opening his gaze big.
-We are waiting!-. The princess scoffed with a lack of enthusiasm, rolling her eyes and walking past him. Jacaerys turns around and follows her with his eyes, troubled-. Letting the days pass while the Hightowers shit on our throne!-. She walks in circles, complaining while throwing her arms to the sides.
-Our calculation of time has been perfect, Daera-. Being the voice of calm and reasoning, he speaks to her with a slow tongue. She stops walking, halting in front of the fire and staring at him with tediousness, twisting her inferior lip in sign of disapproval-. All the houses we’ve visited learn the news from us, that gives us reliability-. He confidently says, opening his hands with easiness.
This time, the princess remains silent, looking at him while trying to calm her breathing down. Softening his brown eyes towards her, he speaks again when assuring she could not deny him that true.
-They’re all bent-. Jacaerys pointed out, recalling about Jeyne Arryn and her men’s bended knees, and the lords of Heart’s Home and White Harbor kneeled before them-. Cregan will too-. He insists, taking a slow step forward. His wife looks at him in silence, taking his words in-…I know it-, he added with confidence.
After sighing, Daera slowly closes her eyes, and troubles herself again when thinking that Winterfell’s support depends on a “I know it” from him.
-Wise man-, she mumbled in a scoff, looking at the fire with tired eyes.
Prince Jacaerys breathed in, approaching to her with no hurry. Soon, he stands by her side in front of the fireplace. Feeling his near warmth, Daera cocks her head to a side to look at him. Taller than her, he cocked his head down, and they both look at each other while the fire dimly lights their faces.
-The Greens may be thinking now that they may win, but any thought of victory will soon prove to be just an illusion of them-. Jace softly speaks, furrowing his brows. Daera curves her, pressing her lips while shaking her head-. We will take them by surprise-, he insisted, leaning closer.
-How good can unexpectedness can be, if it gives them time to do horrible things?-. The princess speaks with heaviness. Now, out of the two, is her who employs reasoning as her voice. Though not having a single idea of all the killings and persecutions that have been taking place since The Greens took the throne, it would not surprise her either; Daera knows them.
-Such as?-, Jacaerys mumbles, lightly shrugging.
The princess breathes in with slowness while looking at the fire. She thinks of Aegon with a crown, Otto and Alicent behind him, she thinks of…Aemond. Painfully, she knows all of those names belong to people of not too salubrious morals.
-…A mess-. Princess Daera answered, not prideful of her heavy knowledge.
Only those two words were enough to let Jace understand what she’s fearing of; just as Cregan said: her people. Well, it’s their people now. He bites his inner cheeks, and sighs as heavily as her, silently nodding. She looks at him from the side of her eye, feeling he understood her meanings.
After some moments of silence, the prince spoke again.
-I gave Cregan’s answer a limit of pondering-. He confesses, gaining a surprised look from her-…He has until tomorrow-. Jacaerys softly says, raising his brows.
The princess parts her lips, suddenly feeling more calmed. Highly approving of him, she nodded and sighed, crossing her arms again. Jace sided a little smile and stared at her for some moments, crossing his arms too.
While she stares into the fire, he stares at her again. He clears his throat, blinking.
-I was just…helping Sarah-. He mumbled, bringing up again the matter she had placed on the table before.
When hearing of it a new time, Daera’s face hardens again, jealousy and taunt shines on her purple eyes.
-What a gentleman you are-. She scoffed with a sarcastic smile, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
-Shouldn’t a future ruler help its future subjects?-. Jacaerys is quick to ponder, leaning front and narrowing his eyes while a smirk grows in his face. She softens her jaw, looking at him with an amused tediousness-. You told me yourself-. He shrugs.
-Not when the subject wants to fuck you-. The princess answered with cockiness and taunt, rolling her eyes, and planning on walking past him again.
But the prince placed a hand on her belly, stopping her. Daera licks the insides of her cheeks and turns her head to look at him. Jace keeps looking at a wall for two seconds and then, too, turns his head and stares at her, deeply.
-You’ve helped the whole of King’s Landing-. The young prince mutters, narrowing his eyes. She copies him, cold though amused-…I am sure more than the half of them wants to fuck you-. Shamelessly, he whispered near her face, though a light blush did reach his cheeks-…And you still help them-, he adds.
Daera stares right into his eyes, and feels a warmth climbing up her whole body, and it was not due the fireplace. This is the warmth this room had last night.
-I can manage that-, she cockily shrugs.
-Can’t I?-. Jace furrows his brows.
-You are too new-. The princess whispered, looking at him from head to toe. Jace clenches his jaw, and presses his hand against her belly; she faked that did not made her cunt to pulse-…Easily swayed-, she mumbled with disapproval.
-Am I?-. He narrows his eyes again, nearing to her even more, though it is barely possible. Their noses skim, and their cloths are pressed against one another. They stare into each other’s eyes while their breathings grow faster.
-You are-. She quickly nods, whispering over his lips.
-Hence why I, too…want to fuck you?-. Growing fond of the world, faster and faster, the prince spoke with no shyness, leaning closer to her.
The princess, it surprises us to say, is left speechless. She parts her lips along a gasp and, when she less expected it, Jacaerys trapped them in a sudden kiss that stole both their breaths.
Daera moans in his mouth, instantly heading her hands to his hair and loosing her fingers on it. The prince groans even louder, pressing himself to her and quickly going for her waist, groaning again when he squeezed it tightly, drawing it smaller. While they kiss, she turned around and pushed him with her steps.
When Jace’s back clashed with a wall, the kiss was broken for the both of them to laugh, breathless. She caresses his hair, and he grabs her hips, biting his lips while he looks at her at the short distance they’re standing at.
-You said it, you do it now-. The princess spoke within a whisper, heading a hand to his neck, and grabbing it for a second. He licks his lips, a smile growing wider on his lips.
-Your wishes are my errands-. He muttered, and he suddenly leaned down, running his hands down her body. Daera watches with an open mouth and, soon, his hands sneaked under her dress, which he began to lift up at the same time he bent his knees.
-Fuck!-. The princess smiles, placing her hands on his head and pushing him down, making him to move faster.
As the happiest slave, Jacaerys fell to his knees and kneeled in front of her, lifting her skirt when wrinkling the cloth under his fingers. Daera rests her back on a wall, grabs his head with both hands, and feels a hot breath travelling around her thighs.
When the prince has sight, once again, of his wife’s womanhood, he’s driven just insane. He clenches his teeth and grunts through them, squeezing the cloth harder. He felt an insistent push on his head, coming from her. He would not make her wait longer.
-Be a good boy-, the princess breathes fast, looking down.
That was enough for his cock to be as hard as ever, and his tongue as eager. His face met with her femininity, and within a second he began to kiss the entirety of it. The princess instantly melted on the wall, rolling her eyes blank and grabbing his head harsher, with a smile on her lips,
Jace moans deeply, burying his nose on her arousal while he hugs himself to her open legs. The warmth that surrounds him is otherworldly, and he’s sure there’s no explanation rather than Daera being a dragon herself, which she proved to be when she let a wild roar out towards the ceiling as she felt her husband’s nose endlessly poking against her soft wet skin.
Daera lets her body to rest completely on the wall, allowing herself to look only down, as she admires the kneeled brown-haired man between her legs, who so eagerly kisses and licks everything of her just as he did back in The Vale. He’s desperate for it, sucking and licking faster and harder with every passing second, making her to go insane.
-Fuck!-, the princess flinches, closing her legs on an instinct. His head is caged between them, and he felt he had to thank the gods, any god, all of them!
-Fuck-, Jace cursed to, with no air or breath, but he did it gladly, sneaking out a smile. When hearing him swearing, she moaned harder, biting a smirk.
The prince runs his hands on her thighs, caresses her hips, and then a hand of his joins his lips and tongue. He had not forgotten the other trick she taught him in The Vale. With easiness, and no fear, he allowed a finger of him to slip into her, smoothly burying it in her hole.
Daera flickered in that moment, pressing her legs tighter and loosing herself in a way almost all of her weight fell to him, but our prince is a strong one, and whilst a hand of his holds her steady, the other does marvels and star-shaped figures on her cunt, making the sound of her flesh and wetness a song to him.
-Yes, Jace, yes!-. The Targaryen woman moans with great pleasure, rolling her eyes blank.
Her chest comes up and down, her hands scratch the wall behind her, burying her nails in the stone. Along a lusty gasp, she threw her head back with closed eyes, opening her mouth and breathing fastly while she’s at the mercy of her prince.
This one, smiling and moaning, hugs her legs and buries himself between them with all the gladness of the world. He has decided his favorite place in the world to stand on are his knees, as long as it is in front of his wife, princess Daera, her wide-open legs, and her most delicious godly flavor.
Only in matters of minutes, things escalated quickly.
Suddenly, for Daera, Jace’s tongue and fingers were not enough, and she worried about his knees and if they are hurting. As much pleasure as he gives her, and as much content he is on his knees, when she caught a glimpse of the great erection between his pants, the princess deduced they both wanted more.
That is why she suddenly grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away. That is why Jacaerys fell lying on the floor, and Daera climbed on top of him. That is why his trousers were thrown in the bed and her dress on a nearby chair. And that is also why he passionately grabbed her hips, and why she desperately sat right on his cock.
Daera now bounces on top of him, her knees touching the floor while she rides him with ardor. Below her, Jacaerys has his head lifted just to endlessly stare at the goddess that makes a dragon of him, wildly and beautifully. Her long curly hair caresses his own pelvis when she bounces back and forth, letting him feel its softness. His big strong hands help her to maintain a perfect and savage rhythm, moving with his hands as much as she moans with him too.
The fireplace, right in front of them, sees and lights the burning desire they both look at each other with. Whether if it is the moaning prince on the floor or the wild princess above of him, something is very clear; they are insane for the other.
-Daera…!-, Jace groans with no breath, raising a hand to cup one of her perfect brown breasts.
-Jace, oh gods-. The princess intertwines her fingers with those of that hand, cupping her own tit too. The prince bites his lips and watches as her cunt jumps over his dick with no end, fastly and preciously-. Fu- fuck!-. She roars, harshly closing her eyes.
The young man grunts, letting out a smile and to throw his head back, briefly losing sight of the beauty. Reproaching himself for it, he looks up again, and grows even more cajoled when he looks at the beautiful rogue smile she’s staring at him with, riding him every time faster.
-Come on, my love-. Her honeyed voice speaks between moans, and he twitches when he listens how she calls him-. Don’t hold it-. She winked an eye, and he laughed, grabbing her hips tighter.
However, it was the princess who released herself first. Daera couldn’t hold any longer and came with a wide smile and a loud grunt, squeezing his arms at the feeling of her walls clenching all around him. That very clenching made him to come second; he smiled too, but he moaned louder, burying himself deeper in her, bathing her insides with his releasing and arousal, causing her to bite her lips while whining.
When the heated encounter came to and end, they were still welcomed on the floor and the near fire. Jacaerys took seat, and placed his back on the bed’s bottom, looking for a more comfortable position to stare at her. Daera, stubborn as she is, and clingy, decided to remain on the very same place: on him.
With his length still inside her, Jace hums before the warmth her insides give him. Hugged to his shoulder, the princess kisses his lips while he hums, and his thumbs caresses her back and ass. When their mouths get apart, they breath heavily and slowly above the other.
-Hells…-. Daera whispers, starting to play with his curly disheveled hair, untangling it. Silly and loving, he smiles at her-. I knew this would happen-. She snickers.
-What thing, my wife?-. He questions in a whisper, caressing her cleavage with his soft fingers.
-You won’t want to stop doing it-. She answered with amusement, scrunching her nose and smile.
-Oh, not in a million years-. Jace quickly agreed, shaking his head and making her to laugh louder. She’s shining. He smiles, hugging her back, and drawing her even closer to him-. You are divine-, he muttered, losing his eyes on her lips, while she lost hers on his.
True to their words (perhaps too much true), five minutes later they were at it again, when princess Daera tempted him with a long kiss on his fragile neck. That alone was enough for the prince’s cock to stand straight again, and for her wife to cheer this. She encouraged his hard length with even longer and deeper kisses.
Soon enough, they were doing it one more time, even nearer than before to the fire. The flames were spectators, once again, of the white-haired princess riding the brown-eyed dragon, the both of them with tangled fingers, manes and legs, almost as if they were melting themselves into one being.
They were not melting, actually; they were making love, instead. But, between these two…where’s the difference?
Lusty and joyous and eager for more, the princes would have never imagined that a black raven is on its way to Winterfell, flying from Dragonstone, and having been sent by the very hand of Prince Daemon Targaryen, carrying the disastrous news he wrote.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, explicit sex (p on v), sadness and angst, mentions of death, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•••
《 The Godswood Of Winterfell 》
•••
A new morning has arrived to Westeros, bringing sun and clouds to most of its skies. It’s quite early, thus some birds still welcome the new day with their singing; the seagulls soar above the blue seas, flapping their wings and squawking.
At the ancestral seat of the Targaryens, the birds and seagulls are joined between the clouds by beings very much larger than them; dragons. At the height of the castle, Moondancer and Meleys soar the skies about, circling around the keep, together and close, constantly wheezing or growling.
When Moondancer’s song reached her rider’s ears, this one slowly began to awake from a deep silent sleep. Laying in her bed, covered by a heavy sheet of fur that keeps her warm, Baela starts to furrow her brows, and to slowly open her purple tired eyes, which have dark bags under them.
For some seconds, she looks around, disoriented. She realizes she’s at her bedchambers, which made her to grow confused, for she does not remember to have come here. Wait- when did she even came back to Dragonstone? And when did she come to…?
Within a snap, everything comes back to the princess’ mind, all memory of Luke’s death, the searching for them, the tears and screams from all the family. She fainted; she remembers now. What happened then?!
Baela gasps, scared and hurried, fastening the bedsheet above of her, and planning to quickly stand up. But some hand suddenly grabbed hers, stopping her right before she could even land on her feet. Flinching with surprise, the princess looks to her left, wide-eyed.
The warm hands that had reached her are princess Rhaenys’, who finds herself seated right besides her granddaughter, on the bed of hers. She wears a black dress, loosen hair, and there are also signs of bad sleep under her purple wrinkled eyes. When seeing her grandmother, Baela’s breath left her, and panic got hold of her even tighter.
-Gra- Grandma-. With no voice, the young girl stutters, curving her brows, and feeling tears gathering on her eyes.
Rhaenys tsked with a great sorrow, holding her head, and pushing her to her chest. In that moment, Baela could not hold herself any longer; a loud cry broke in earnest from the deepest place of her heart. She starts to cry with no end, hugging her grandmother while thinking of her brother, her dear…dead brother.
-No, no!-. The princess laments with a broken voice, endlessly shaking her head. Rhaenys cups her head and back, taking all of her salty tears-. Grandma!-. Lucerys’ sister whines with a painful sorrow, strongly closing her eyes, and seeing him in her mind. He’s smiling at her and mouthing her name, but she didn’t hear his voice.
-Shh, shh-. The old princess coos with softness and a mother’s patience, caressing her hair. She herself has tears on her eyes too, but she cries them silently, focusing only in her granddaughter’s burning grief-. I know, child…-. She whispers, lightly rocking her.
The Lady of Driftmark, late last night, as we might remember returned from the patrol on the skies of around the Gullet, guarding it while her husband’s fleet, Lord Corlys Velaryon, is almost arriving to it, ready to block all commerce and trading. But let us not get in the matter of the coming blockade, yet, and focus on the now.
When the dragon Meleys brought her rider to land, this one was immediately searched by Ser Erryk Cargyll, princess Daera’s Sworn Protector, and the one that got her out of King’s Landing when the Greens' usurpation began. The knight welcomed her to Dragonstone with a courtesy, sad eyes, and tragical news; her lord’s husband heir, and her blue-eyed kind grandson, Luke, had been killed…by no other than his uncle, Aemond Targaryen.
The news shook Rhaenys’ entire body when she heard them. She could not believe that the child was dead but, on the other side, the name of the wrong’s doner did not surprised her. Instead, it brought flames to her blood and curses to her mind; it brought rage to her mother heart. She thought of two women, immediately; Rhaenyra, the boy’s mother, and Daera, his sister…and the assassin’s wife.
-A raven came in the night…-Baela’s trembling voice starts to narrate as she stares at a blank point with teary exhausted eyes-…It accounted that Luke had been slain, by Aemond’s hand and dragon-. She speaks with heaviness and angriness, clenching her teeth.
Rhaenys closes her eyes strongly, gripping her head harder. She gulps, feeling Baela’s raging heartbeats.
-I told Father and Rhaenyra that we had been misled; a foul play the Greens were impressing upon us, to cause distraction and fuss-. The girl’s upper lips trembles, and her gaze fills with hate and grief-…We were looking for him…-, she remembers in a whisper.
Baela’s eyes wander around the room, and her heart stops beating when thinking about her step-mother, Rhaenyra. She halts her sobs and looks up with alert, making Rhaenys to flinch.
-Where is Nyra?-. Baela asked within a second, growing desperate-. Is she alright?!-. Worried, her loud voice asks at the same time she began to stand up from the bed.
But, once again, her grandmother stopped her, pulling her hands and bringing her back to the bed with a tired tsk from her mouth.
-Let go of me!-. The princess roars, despair and worriness owning her body and mind.
-The Maester declared you must rest. Baela, and you will!-. The Queen Who Never Was dictated with a firm voice, ordering her to remain quiet. With her chest coming up and down, Baela shakes her head, bemused and scared.
Rhaenys gulps, staring at her granddaughter with pressed lips and serious eyes that were trying to hide their sadness. Seconds then, she softens the grip on her hands, and looks down for a second.
-The Queen is gone-. Princess Rhaenys informed, looking up again with a lifted chin and a clenched jaw, gaining a troubled look from her-…She has not returned-, she confessed within a whisper.
Baela’s trembling lips opened when she harshly breathed in, drawing herself back and looking around with tremendous fear and concern for her Queen’s state.
Her mother’s.
•••
In the skies of Storm’s End, everything rages.
From the ferocious waterdrops that rain with no end, from the wild wind that blows from left to right and from right to left, to the constant and uncountable thunders that stroke the air with loudness and lightnings that illuminate all the surroundings within a snap, only to have darkness afterwards.
However, even though we now find ourselves in the middle of a heated disaster of a storm, nothing in these skies is even close to match the rage and ferocity of the Black Queen and her broken heart.
-LUKE!-, screams and bawls come with no cease from Rhaenyra’s mouth. Her body wiggles abruptly due to her dragon’s violent flapping, which she must give to make face to the storm they fly in. But the Queen holds tight to her saddle, and even tighter to her purpose-. LUCERYS!-. she shouted louder than a thunder that dared to make her competence, but utterly lost.
With a red face, an irking neck, a sore throat and teary eyes, Queen Rhaenyra does not allow a second to go on without screaming that name, without calling and barking for her son to come to her, to appear in the middle of this deadly storm and shout back at her that he is fine. Lucerys would reproach her dangerous deed, and would insist to fly safely to land, so she doesn’t catch a cold.
Rhaenyra cries loudly, placing her forehead on her saddle and shaking her head, begging for the gods to just bring him to her already. She can’t keep on with this pain, this loss. This misery.
Syrax shrieks with rage, fighting against the storm with no dithering, and all the willing of the world. For she is, too, looking for her child.
Closing her eyes and sobbing endlessly, she pictures her sweet boy again. If she finds him, she would immediately take him back home, wrapped in warmth clothes and in her arms. His siblings could finally breath again; they would all hug him and would never allow for any of them to go out alone ever again. Rhaena would surely faint, out of relief, and when she’d wake, she’d faint again, out of love.
Rhaenyra’s lips tremble, and she shakes her head from side to side, growing restless. She must find him, for her sake, for everyone’s. That is the only outcome she would accept; anything else would mean doom, not only for her, but for the rest of her children too; her sons and daughters. She cannot let them down; they cannot live like this.
She, surely, cannot.
-LUKE! LUCERYS!-. The Queen hurts her throat when screaming again between the thunders and the clouds. She curves her trembling lips down, tightly grabbing her saddle while she looks all around with red eyes and burning tears-. IT’S ME, IT’S MAMA!-. Rhaenyra cries out with all the strength of her body, slave of despair.
A lightning was the only one to answer her, mocking her desperation by illuminating the skies, and letting her see that no dragon flies in between this storm; only hers.
•••
Some gasped with terror, and covered their mouths.
Some wept, with sadness and fear for the upcoming.
Some laughed, alleging “the bastard” deserved it, though they never knew him.
Some packed their bags, and left the city behind.
Some prayed so that the gods have mercy on them.
Some didn’t even want to believe it.
Those and many more were the reactions at King’s Landing, when world finally spread out, and by morning everybody knew that the second son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark and its holdings, had been murdered by the Prince Aemond Targaryen, the lad’s uncle.
Both The Red Keep and Flea Bottom started the day with a new air, one that carry whispers of threats and coming disasters. The capital feels different, a new stage of this war has begun with the assassination of that bastard prince. It’s no longer only about who should ascend the throne best, but who would crush who to ascend the throne, and take vengeance of the other side’s doings.
Many a tale wander around Flea Bottom, from the brothels to the taverns and households. Every mouth tells different things.
A merchant man spreads the word that it’s all actually a lie mongered by Rhaenyra’s faction so that the people would feel pity for her. He attest that, in truth, the princeling is still very much alive, enjoying of feasts, balls, whores and his wealth back in Dragonstone.
A woman from the Street of Silk shrinks in fear while she commands everyone to recall how very dear her siblings are to princess Daera Targaryen, the Dragon’s Goodness, and that she will come to King’s Landing on the back of her golden huge mount, The Golden Ray, along Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon, to lay waste to the city and the usurpers who had taken her brother and their throne.
All the stories gossiped by the people of Flea Bottom differ, that is true, but one same thing everyone fears coming: war. A bloody, and very tragic war.
Since we are already at the capital, within its people, let us turn to the humble and small house of those four blacksmith brothers we have before been acquittanced with, all of them of light brown hair, hazel eyes, and distinguishable tallness. Those who, as we may remember, helped princess Daera to find Dyana -back in the Street of Silk-, and to capture the three thieves -their names now forgotten- that had planned to burn Moringa’s children shelter.
In the very Street of Steel, where they also work in, their doors are closed as well as the windows. And behind them, the brothers are gathered in a little thin dining table of five chairs. Before we see into their doings, let us do a quick check about their names, for they are very similar, and it’s an easy thing to mistake one for the other.
-All right, well, fuck-. Jay sighs and places his hands on his hips. Junior of all his siblings, he is sort of the most easy-going and gracious one, out of the four; a very reliable source of amusement.
-First, the thing with princess Rhaenys in the Dragonpit, and now this!-. Jya stresses, raising his brows while walking around under the attentive and worried gazes of his brothers-. A prince has been killed-. He slowly takes the information in, and then shivers-. Something is going to happen between the Targaryens and the Hightowers-. He warned with a nervous frown.
-Fucktowers-, Jay mumbles under his breath.
-Shut up-, he sighs, not even looking at him. Second oldest, Jya could be relied upon being the cleverest, who thinks and analyzes thing with both reasoning and feelings.
-Wait, who is “Rhaenys” again? The one of freaky eyes?-. Jay narrows his eyes, actually thinking about Rhaena.
-Come on, Jay! How many times?!-. Jya fastly complains, and his brother just shrugged.
Being the only one seated at the table, Yja looks at them with curved brows and parted lips, briefly shaking his head. Third brother, and the mute one, his eyes are telling, and communicate every word that his mouth cannot. Looking at him, they understood the meaning of his gaze; he does not want them to be victim of this war. And they nearly were already, in the Dragonpit.
-We will step away from this, as soon as possible-. Ajy dictated with his arms crossed on his chest, looking at all of them-. Every coin counts, and we must find more sources than the blacksmithing, so we can leave the quicker. Anything!-. He determinates, with raised brows. Oldest brother; as adept with his forging skill as he is with his sense of leader, his brothers' protector since they were kids.
Since the attack at the Dragonpit occurred by Princess Rhaenys’ hand, the Smith Brothers came to the conclusion that leaving King’s Landing would be for the best. They’ve been saving and working extra errands, as many as they can find. But now, with the news of Prince Lucerys’ murder, and the inevitable war they know will follow, their idea is now a hurry, and they must make true haste.
The four brothers turned their heads at the same time when knockings come from their door. They glance between each other, whilst Ajy uncrossed his arms and headed to grab the handle.
-What if it’s “Rhaenys”?-. A burlesque murmur came from Jay, snickering. Jya rolled his eyes blank and Yja twisted his lips at him with confusion.
When the older brother opens the door, all felt relieved when encountering with a familiar face, one that looks back at them with wide eyes and firm posture.
-May I come in?-. The white-haired hulky man asks.
-Ye’-. Ajy steps to a side, letting him come inside, and quickly closing the door behind him.
-Hugh-. Jay sighed the man’s name, lifting his eyebrows and crossing his arms-. How’s business?-, he points at him with his chin.
-Not giving anything back-. Hugh answered within a shady mumble, nearly rolling his eyes. Yja smiled tinyly at him, kind of ashamed, and nodding with slowness while his brother sighed with the same complain as their visitor.
Hugh Hammer, a work companion of theirs as well as he is a friend too. A smith as well, they’ve known each other for years, which is not hard, giving that they live in the narrow city Flea Bottom is. Of strong complexion, big arms, blue eyes, a grey beard and a long white mane, Hammer is a well-respected and good man of the Street of Steel, known for his impeccable work, and his hidden love for songs and art.
-How is Ulrica?-. With his arms crossed again, Ajy approaches to him with a curious frown and down eyes.
The brothers look at him with similar expressions, interested and shamed. They talk about Hammer’s daughter of ten and two, Ulrica, who has been suffering of a disgraceful blood fever for the last three moons, with no cease, rest, or sign of improvement.
-Uh, uhm…-. The white-haired smith looks around and licks his lips, pretending to not feel a pain on his heart when his daughter comes to mind; though she never leaves-. Well…-, he lets out a graceless smile, looking at the ceiling. His smile was fake.
It was not hard to understand that she remains exactly the same; lying in bed, suffering and being tended by her loving mother, Kat. Not prolonging Hugh’s obvious lack of wanting to say it out loud, Jya speaks over him.
-What is that you bring with you?-. The second brother asks with interest, pointing at the small bag their friend has brought with him. Ajy, looking at it since he came in, tilts his head with the same curiosity.
-The dragons you lent me the other day, for…medicine-. Hugh responded with simplicity, raising the bag towards the older brother, whose brows quickly came to furrow-. I already gathered it, and I’m giving it back to you-. He explains, as if it needed explanation.
Quickly, Yja shakes his head with eyes of pity, immediately making his brothers know that Hugh’s daughter obviously still needs that coin, and more. Without having to glance at him, Ajy shook his head, and took a step back.
-No, Hugh-. The older brother denies, confusing the white-haired smith-. Keep it-. He allowed with a soft tone, looking away from the bag.
-What?-. Jay raises a brow, confused, and all of them look at him with alert-. But you said that we need all the coin we ca-
Jay is interrupted by a hiss and a slap on his head that came by Jya’s hand within a second.
-OW!-. Jay quickly complains, furrowing his brows at him-. What was that for?!-. He tsks, but then quickly came to his senses when seeing how they were all looking at him as if he was an idiot. Jay quickly closes his lips and nods with shame, understanding-. Sorry-, he whispered.
Yja sighs tiredly, scratching his forehead.
-We insist, Hugh, you keep it-. Ajy stressed with a kind tone, pushing back the bag to Hammer’s chest, who sighed through his nose and mouth, looking almost relieved-. You can give it back another day, oy?-. He narrows his eyes along a small smile, nodding.
-Thank you, friends-. Hugh sighed once again, embarrassed. The brothers’ faces let him know that there was nothing to be ashamed of-. The gods repay you, Rivers-, he says, looking at all of them when mentioning their last name, which we happen to be discovering just now.
-Yes, that would be welcomed right now-. Jay mumbles a jest. Standing besides him, Jya bites a smile and elbows him with amusement. They both snicker.
Glancing at them for a few seconds with a calm smile, Ajy then turns to look at his friend again, having to look a little down due to his prominent height. Hugh looks through the windows for a moment, slowly raising his brows.
-‘Tis crazy out here, is it not?-. The oldest brother questions within a sigh, also glancing at the streets outside, where the people walk by with shrinked shoulders and nervous faces.
-It smells like war-. Hugh Hammer agreed with a low voice, crossing his arms with heaviness, and thinking about all of the ongoings of the realm.
-Sorry, I ate stew-. Another joke comes from Jay, and this one made all to sincerely laugh for some seconds. He sucks his inferior lip and sighs, kind of nervous when thinking about everything too. But they shall be fine; he knows it.
-…We have a new King-. A stressed and doubtful huff escapes Hugh’s mouth as he looks at the four brothers with unquietness and seriousness, not knowing what to expect next.
-Fuck the King-. A ferocious spat of words comes from Jya. At his left, Jay scoffs prideful, and from the table, Yja smirked and agreed with a nod.
Hugh Hammer sides a smirk, staring at the Rivers brothers, and then looks to his right when the oldest of them spoke.
-Long Live Our Queen-. Ajy dictated, lifting up his chin.
•••
While they have cloudy skies in Dragonstone, a tempest in Storm’s End, and clear sunshine in King’s Landing, we, in Winterfell, welcome the rising sun of this new morning with a light snowfall, cold and soft, dying the city white, freezing the rivers, and travelling swiftly with the breezes.
However, the chambers of princes Daera Targaryen and Jacaerys Velaryon are well guarded from this common cold of Winterfell, for the whole castle it’s always ready for it. Inside, you barely can tell it’s snowing, if it weren’t for the windows.
With locked doors, heavy dark curtains of color grey, a fireplace that burned the entire night and dawn, and thick fur bedsheets, the chambers gave them comfort and warmth, granting them a good sleep. Though, we must admit, the accommodations Lord Cregan Stark gave them -though forever grateful for them- are not the only reason as to why they slept so fondly.
The snowflakes that fall in front of the room’s windows have the fortune to take a quick peek to the bed. In there, covered from all cold and snow, the princes lie in the same bed; in the same side, even, for their bodies are intertwined, their legs and feet tangled under the multiple bedsheets. Their different colored manes are kissed by the sun that also peeks at them, along the drops of snow.
They are the same as when they fell asleep; naked. Jacaerys’ head rests in Daera’s chest, and his arms tightly hug her without even knowing it. A hand of hers is on his hair, and the other on his right butt cheek, under the sheets. The couple sleeps, breathing at the same pace, their chests pressed on one another and, thus, their hearts feeling the other’s beat.
As the sun began to shine brighter, the Velaryon prince starts to find it discomforting, for it shines to bright on his face. Slowly, he begins to wake, lightly furrowing his brows, and lowly humming, his voice growly but soft. Slowly opening his eyes, he breathes in through his nose, looking around for some seconds.
He is quick to remember they are in The North, at Lord Cregan’s castle. But he already knew that, and the first thought that crossed his mind were memories, of last night, the fondest of them. His heart skips a beat and, only a second later, he draws his eyes away from the window and, instead, look closer to him.
When his gaze found her, his heart definitely skipped more than one beat. He parts his lips, mesmerized. The face of a goddess has been gifted to him, under the sunrays and tiny particles of morning dust in the air. Daera sleeps smiling, as a matter of fact, he’s just coming to realize. Her lips a lightly raised, and her eyes are calmly closed. Her white hair is a mess, her skin looks like glass, and her breathing is sound, resulting music to his ear.
He’s left breathless when he recalls everything they did last night. He is officially a man now, and it’s because of her. She was so kind and willing, patient and gentle, sensual and alluring.
This may be one of the best feelings he has ever felt; note you that he has ridden a dragon, but this…looking at her, staring at her tender sleep, makes him feel the luckiest person alive, the most enamored gentleman.
Jacaerys curves his brows, slowly, taking her face in with glossy eyes and a growing smile on his face. All sleep left him behind, though he still remembers his dream last night; a dream of crowns and kisses, holding his wife's waist, and his mother's hand.
That dream felt just like how he's feeling, as we speak; loving, and hopeful.
All silence is interrupted from a moment to another when some knockings come from the door. Jace immediately flinches, placing a hand on Daera's left cheek with hurry, scared that she might wake alerted. And, though slower than he thought she would, she does begin to abandon sleep, grunting and furrowing her brows.
-Oh, heavens-. The voice of a god made echoe on the princess' ears, making her to quickly start to open her eyes, utterly curious-. Did they wake you?-. A shamed tsk escapes his mouth, and a tender thumb caresses her right cheek.
If honey had a voice, Daera thinks, it would certainly sound like this.
The princess, at last, came to fully open her eyes. Her lips parted away at the second she encountered with the brown-eyed, lovely-looking and disheveled prince that stares at her with a light smile and a gaze of love. His heart started to beat rapidly when looking at those purple orbs and, within a blink, hers started to, as well.
Time froze, only of them, but the snowdrops did start to fall slower, as if they wanted to take longer glances of the loving princes in that warm bed. They envy them.
Slowly breathing, Daera eyes his entire face, taking the image in with all the patient of the world. She finds marvel and love, and the best part is that her heart beats with the same feelings, and even deeper ones, we dare to say. Speechless, the white-haired wonders if this is what a right decision feels like. There had been no feeling like this on her chest before, until now… until having Jacaerys Velaryon naked above of her, sweetly smiling and losing his breath for her.
A smile takes hold of Daera's whole face. Her eyes shine, and a hand of hers also cups a cheek of his, endlessly staring at those brown pool. When feeling her touch, he giggled with excitement; a happiness installed on his chest when realizing she seems to be feeling exactly like him.
They both giggle, together, caressing the other's cheeks, and slowly beginning to lean their faces nearer.
But, then again, time actually did not freeze, and there is still someone in the door.
-My princes!-. The knocks come again, along with a loud but respectful call for them, from a man.
Daera raises her brows, staring sideways to the door. Before she could do anything, Jacaerys began to come down of her body, carefully stepping out of the bed.
-What the fuck do they want?-. The princess tsk her tongue, accommodating on her elbows as she laments her husband's distance.
-I shall discover it-. Jacaerys mumbles with a smile, endlessly staring at her while he, quickly, jumps into his pantaloons-. Coming, Ser!-. He answers.
However, this distance allowed her to glance at him from head to toe. The sun of the day now allows her to see every inch of him, and gods, he is beautiful. From his broad shoulders to his clenched abdomen, all moving while he dresses himself. The princess bit her inferior lip, not hiding her emotion when looking at his strong morning wood.
-Fuck's sake-. Daera whispers under her breath, keeping a hand on the bedsheet above her, which still covers her.
Moments then, Jacaerys walked to the doors with swift steps. He took the handle, but immediately huffed when recalling and looking at the crossed sword. Raising a brow, he looks back, and his wife, from the bed, only shrugged with a proud smile. The prince chuckles, and within seconds he made the sword at a side.
Finally, at last, the guard on the other side is answered when prince Jacaerys opened one of the doors by the half, leaning his body forward.
-Good morrow, my Prince-. The knight is quick to salute, bowing his head.
-Good morrow, Ser-. Jace politely nods, eyeing him from up t down-. What may we help you with?-. He sides an easy smile, curious.
From the bed, lying on her elbows, Daera throws her head back along a sigh, closing her eyes. She remembers all the feelings of last night; from Jace's breath-taking cock to the happiness that burned her from within. Silently, she starts to smile, biting her lips, and also listening to the ongoing conversation.
-I come with apologies from Lord Cregan-. The guard informed, confusing both princes from their respective places-. His Lordship had to attend to matters of urgency he had not foreseen, and had to leave the castle for -he says- a brief span of hours, my prince-. He says with a polite tone, looking at him.
-I see-, Prince Jacaerys nods with understanding, wondering what those matters may be. From the bed, Daera twists her lips, glancing to the window, and asking herself the same too.
-Lord Cregan sends word of his embarrassment, for he will not be able to join you to break fast-. The guard notified with a sided nod.
-It is a shame, but he must not worry-. The prince shakes his head-. Shall Lady Bethany grants us her company, then?-. He questions, raising his brows when thinking of the lord's mother.
-I am sorry, my prince, Lady Stark had to turn her attention to the situation as well-. With an honest tone, he answered.
From the bed, Daera raised her brows with twisted lips that are almost smiling, thoughtful. From the entry, Jacaerys pressed a light smile, and started to nod.
-Your morning repast is in the making, my prince, so you and princess Daera shall enjoy it when you see fit-. The guard informed.
-Perfect, I'll let my dear wife know-. Prince Jacaerys sided a discreet smile, really wanting to look over his shoulder; sadly, he could not see the provocative way she bit her lips when listening to him calling her that-. We're most thankful for the notice, Ser-. He politely nods to the knight.
-My Prince-. He nodded as well and, with no further information, stepped back and walked away from the princes' bedchambers.
With his leaving, Jacaerys closed the doors once again. Then, he looks over his shoulder, starting to turn around. From the bed, his dear wife smirked sideways, looking at him from up to down with no dissimulation.
-Lord Cregan is away-. Jacaerys says, not waiting for anything to start to walk towards the bed, playing his right hand's fingers around his pant's threads, and lifting the right one.
-So I heard-. The princess nods cockily, raising her brows-. And, when he's back, we'll ask for his fealty, and…-Daera sighs, taking his hand, and pulling him towards the bed. The prince snickers, getting on his knees and crawling to her-…tomorrow, we will be back home-. She sided a dreamy and tired smile, only thinking of it.
-And, in a couple of days, everything will we solved-. Jace whispers, placing his hands at the sides of her body, and looking at her from above, just as he did last night. His hard cock twitches when having the memory of it-. No war-. He mumbles, growing enchanted by looking at her clavicle and neck.
-Talks of politics can wait, I think…-. Daera laughs tauntly, grabbing his neck from behind, and caressing his chest with the other hand. He gulps, parting his lips.
Prisoner of the desire she awakened with, the princess gainsaid her own words from last night, those of "No distractions". But she does not care enough for it, at least not now that she has him all over her, hard and drooling and charmed.
Oh, come on, Lord Cregan is away, anyways. The Valyrian gods have blessed them.
-We have the morning-. Under his shiny eyes, she mumbles with a cocky smile and narrowed eyes, holding the sides of his face. Jace gulps, again-. Anything in mind that we might do, while we wait?-. She ponders, raising a brow.
-I'd wager I'm thinking the same as you, wife-. The prince whispers with a silly tone, eyeing her entire face.
She chuckled, burlesque. Then, with a soft and single move, she pulled down a little of the bedsheet that was covering her. Her breast came out, not depriving him of the joy -once again- of seeing their beauty and hear their siren calling.
Jace's jaw fell to the floor; he curved his brows, tilted his head, and let out a low sigh that was more likely a moan when he saw them. Daera bit her lip when she saw him leaning towards them.
-Yes-, she grabs the back of his neck tighter.
Her left breast was cupped by his mouth, and she moaned loudly when heeling how hot this was, burning against her skin and nipples. Her right one also burns when she makes him grab it, and he gladly does, squeezing it tenderly.
Humming, excited, Jacaerys starts to suck and caress her breasts, closing his eyes to fully enjoy the feeling of the flesh between his teeth. His cock twitches, which makes him to unconsciously thrust a little into her, and now is Daera who moans when feeling that pressure against the bedsheet.
Fucking bedsheet.
With one arm, Daera hugs Jace closer to her, and he only cheers this, slowly licking and sucking her tits. With the other, she began to quickly pull the bedsheet away from her, uncovering the rest of her body, and also going for his trousers.
-Delight yourself, darling-. A purr from her, right on his ear, makes him to longly groan, opening his mouth wider to cup more of her in him.
When he felt the bed cloth slipping away like sand, the prince dares to place his hands at the sides of her body, instantly going for her waist, which he crazily loves to grip and squeeze between his big hands.
Daera, the mastermind of all this desire, also works with her hands. With only one, she fastened his pants threads and, while biting her lips, found his pulsing cock, wrapped her five fingers all around it, and began to stroke it with slowness.
In that moment, he grunted, like a beast, furrowing his brows and nearly biting her nipple due to the surprising pleasure, but he did not hurt her in any way. Instead, he starts to lick harder and quicker, losing his tongue on her breasts, and his brown curls on her other hand.
-So hard, Jace-. She chants on his ear, feeling him moving over her in the middle of groans and sighs she's also copying-. Jace, for the fuck's sake…-, the princess cracks a smile, pulling his hair.
The brown-eyed prince hums on her breasts, pampering the both of them with no end, hungry and lusty for them. She cheered him up with touches and strokes on his cock, which he keeps throbbing to her.
He wants to do it, and she knows it so much.
-'Tis so good to fuck in the morning-. The siren under him starts to whisper to his ear, as if it was a secret, playing with his curls and manhood at her will. He moans, listening closely-. Feeling happy or sad, either way; it's delightful-. She sighs with a smile, feeling how he was completely ready to take her-. Especially sad-, she added with a taunt mumble.
Then, she gave a turn to things. Using the strength of her legs, she wrapped him in them, and made their positions to literally switch.
Breathing fast, Jace looks up, now having the naked Rogue Princess seated on top of him, pinning both his hands against the mattress, smiling coquettishly, and with her chest coming up and down. There is only one correct thing one can say when facing this scenario:
-Thank you-. Lust spoke with Jace's voice, and his eyes looked up at her with endless desire and yearning.
Daera waited for nothing. Not even having to look, the princess once again took all of Jacaerys' manhood into her femininity, and began to ride him with a most perfect rhythm and pace, tangling their fingers on the mattress.
Oh. it felt. delightful.
The prince yells out a loud moan of pleasure, twitching under her and rolling his eyes to the back of his head, growing restless and wild while feeling how very good she moves on top of him, guiding every touch and moment.
-Oh, go-! Fuck!-. This time, Jacaerys was quick to curse, enslaved by the great desire in him and in his wife, who opened her eyes widely while looking down at him with a smile.
-That mouth of yours, prince-. Daera speaks burlesque, tilting her head to the left. Under her, he bites his lips, and looks up with half-closed eyes-. Perhaps you should not spend that much time with me, should you not want to learn such bad behaviors-. All stupid and cocky, she mumbled, scrunching her nose.
That advice, he did not like.
Within a grunt and a second, he calculated the move she had priorly done, he measured his own strength, and copied what Daera had done before. He placed a hand on her waist, the other on her back, and raised up his upper body.
The princess squealed with great surprise when her innocent prince husband turned things again, and now her back is the one lying on the mattress, and he the one on top. That made her eyes shine more than ever, and her mouth to fall all open.
-Fuck-. Shocked, she whispers.
Over her, Jacaerys breathes fast as he grabs her thighs and accommodates himself in the middle of her. The veins in his arms steal most of her attention as well as the pulsing cock wandering around her entry.
-Oh you do learn fast, that's right!-. Daera cheers with a growing smile, hugging his back when he leaned front. Dissimulating his nerves, the prince smiled at her.
-Am I doing alright? Was that alright?-. He sincerely wondered, looking at her at all moments. Bemused, she parts his lips.
-You do feel how fucking wet I am, right?-. The princess whispers tauntly, caressing his back with her nails, pampering his many moles.
-…I do-. Silly and mesmerized, he answered with a long sigh, feeling his cock's point skimming her womanhood with even the slightest move he makes; there's a flood in her.
Jace groans, letting his head to fall forward. Daera touches her forehead with his, and takes impulse towards him, making him lift the upper right corner of his lips, expecting and yearning, but her kiss did not arrive, which made him to groan again, desperate. She's toying him.
-Hum?-, Daera bites her lips.
-Kiss me-. Jace asks for, in a whisper. The princess twists her lips, growing restless by the feeling of his dick forever playing around her entry, but not coming in-. Kiss me, Daera-. He begged, passionately grabbing the right side of her head, squeezing her cheekbone and ear.
-Only if you fuck me-. His wife growled with insistence, placing her feet on his ass, and pushing him forward.
Jace moans, clenching his jaw and looking down at her with wide eyes. Defiant, she keeps her gaze stiff, and raises a brow at him.
Two seconds later, the brown-haired prince slipped into her with a clean thrust, filling her from one second to another. The feeling brought a loud moan from him, and a lusty smile from her, who quickly possessed his neck, and pulled him to trample his lips into a heated kiss.
Sighing, he immediately answered the kiss with fire and desire. Not waiting anything, he also began to thrust into her just as he did last night, possessing all of her body. They both moan with no restriction, their bodies clashing against each other in a vivid moment, drawing them insane with lust and love.
-Gods!-, the young man moans when the kiss ends, and he quickly goes for another one, one his wife granted him with all the pleasure of the world, bouncing at the pace of his mighty cock.
He cannot believe this pleasure truly exists, and much less that it's all his. Theirs.
-Jace, fuck!-. The princess moans as she's fucked deeply and properly, hit where she likes the most; everywhere-. Yes, Jace, yes, fuck-. She smiles with no breath, hugging his back while he takes her with no dithering. He moans loudly, so loudly, staring at her with his mouth all opened.
To moan Jace's name is a new feeling. Only now she's realizing how accustomed she was to moaning Aemond's, and only Aemond's.
-Seven hells!-. Jacaerys groans, placing a hand on the mattress to start thrusting harder into her, using his free will to fuck her as best as he could, just as she wanted, just as she deserves.
Daera closes her eyes and goes with him, smiling and grunting. She thinks how, in these years of late, she was accustomed only to a white straight mane bouncing over her, not a brown curly one; long thin fingers holding her waist, not thick hot ones; boney and delicate shoulders kissed by her, not broad wide ones; slim trained arms to scratch, not thick muscular ones.
Princess Daera had been only fucked and taken by price Aemond Targaryen, in the last two years of her life. That differs now, hugely, for now she has prince Jacaerys Velaryon on top of her, fucking her as if there was no tomorrow, and making her eyes to roll to the back of her head while she smiles.
These are, after all, different times... are they not?
•••
In King’s Landing, the air, breeze and people remain quiet, not in a good way, but in the way that makes your bone chills, and your eyes to look around every corner before turning it. Priorly, we already met with Flea Bottom and its habitants, as how do they feel, and how they are taking everything in their worried chests.
Now, let us turn higher, to the hill that rises the tallest in King’s Landing, and that makes home to the royal family; The Red Keep.
King Viserys has passed, as we well know; his graciousness and light-heart will we hard to see ever again, especially in the years to come, and even harder in a Targaryen; though it’s no proper for us to bitter our minds so soon in the morning. So, as we were telling before, King Viserys has passed, yes. Those that used to be his bedchambers belong now to who’s succeeded him, his rightful heir, his firstborn son, that who now calls himself King and wields The Conqueror’s sword…that who will be know by historian and books as Aegon The Usurper.
Aegon has a tiny smile on his lips, and his clear purple eyes travel around his apartments while he walks around it, holding a cup of wine close to his chest.
The King is dressed in his full suit, for he’s just returned from an audience he held with his people, his subjects, in the room of The Iron Throne. The heraldry sword swells in his belt, and The Conqueror’s Crown also sits on his head, at the moment. Those red blood rubies reflect the sun that enters to the room, making his surroundings to catch glints of red, from time to time.
Along in his rooms, he giggles to himself, with satisfaction and pride. He adored to held the audience; he heard everyone, everyone felt heard, and -even crazier- he did too! Each word that came out of his mouth was fully attended by every ear in the hall, every expression on his face looked by every eye in it too. He is now kind of a figure that everyone praises, blesses and loves. They love him.
The thought made the former prince to crack a smile while he walked out to the balcony, welcoming the breeze to blow his short white hair.
What troubles him a little is how fucking annoying -as he would say- his good Hand is; his grandfather he is, aye, but the old man is kind of…unsufferable, the gods bless him. Aegon looks at him, and Otto’s lips are moving indeed but he just gets “patience patience, silly old laws, bad breath, patience again, ‘Your Grace’, bad breath”; in that very same order, by the way.
All thought of cheerfulness; because of his audience, and complaints; because of his Hand, started to fade away from his mind when his ears reached the sound of some heavy slow flapping. Blinking, and slowly rising his head, he finds Vhagar in the skies about, soaring, growling, and protecting the city.
She is ugly, growing nastier every day, which made the King’s lips twist with disgust. Vhagar, powerful as she may be, has much to envy in Sunfyre, Aegon’s mount, whose beauty and grace are not found in any other dragon. Some have dared to compare his dragon’s magnificence to that of his cousin’s, princess Daera, under the pretext that they are the only golden dragons in the world, and from the same hatch at that. Aegon does not encourages nor shares these comparisons; though Kalistrox is bigger, he posses not even the half of Sunfyre’s gorgeousness; his golden life companion whom he finds so much love in.
Staring at Vhagar, the Kind soon catches a glance of a white-haired man riding her. That is Aemond, of course, and the sight of him made Aegon’s smile to fade a little quicker. When looking at his brother, the first thing he thinks of -inevitably- is the fact that he murdered their nephew, Lucerys, some days ago already.
In this clear sobber mind he posses at the moment, Aegon does not find hard to remember the closeness he once had with Rhaenyra’s sons. Feels like a lifetime ago, but he has yet not forgotten that they were once friends, before they turned into dumb and dumber, and then moved out to Dragonstone. He came to not like them at all (especially after that fucking weird night in Driftmark), but he still is uncapable to find comfort in Luke’s death. It does not bring him joy, as well as it does not bring him great sadness either. It just feels…weird.
But that lad is gone, and he is King, and now better than ever, the boy’s mother might see how true that is. There’s not much else to the tale now, is there?
Shrugging and sighing, Aegon looks away from the skies, and sips his goblet with an easy face. He scratches his butt, humming a song.
-Your Grace-. The doors opening, and the call of a woman made the purple-eyed to turn immediately, interested.
-Yes?-. He was about to smirk, flirty, but his attention quickly turns to other people, smaller one.
A brown-skinned maid has come into the rooms, the Claudia we know, looking down. And, with her, she brings The King’s children, who are holding her hands at each side of her body, curiously staring at the man who nearly shrieked out of emotion when he saw them.
-You asked for the princes to be brought to you, Your Grace-. Claudia speaks, neutrally, forever looking at the floor while, in her mind, she complains as to why The Queen’s wretched brothers must have these precious children close to them, and their chaotic personalities.
-Ah!-. Aegon smiles, delighted, leaving the balcony and his cup behind, and opening his arms while approaching to them-. Children!-. He claps his hands together and crouched in front of them with a huge smile.
Jaehaerys, our little prince, watches him with a closed interested smile, eyeballing his face. Jaehaera, our sweet princess, looks at him too with a calmer face. They both look so much like their mother under certain lights, if not all.
-Boy and girl, yes, haha-. Aegon mumbles with a smile, looking at the both of them. Not having his attention, Claudia furrows her brows, wondering if he just jested or he momentarily forgot their names-. Time to play-. He raises his eyebrows towards them, caressing Jaehaera’s arms.
Every time Helaena takes a moment for herself; either to bath, to embroider, or to ride Dreamfyre, she gets the notices that one of her brothers is either with her children or calling for them. These days of late, it makes her heart to weight, her jaw to clench, and her hair to nearly turn whiter with the stress it causes her. She does not want them away from her.
That’s why we find Queen Helaena presently walking through Maegor’s Holdfast with fast steps and wandering anxious eyes, constantly whispering lowly the names of her kids. From the distance, she hears Aegon’s laugh, and that only makes her to walk faster. Must she have them confined into their chambers?!
-Time to play-. She catches Aegon’s voice before she walked into the room within a second.
-What game are they to play?-. Queen Helaena appears with an afflicted throat, and eyes of mistrust. Claudia instantly feels lighter, thanking The Seven in her mind.
The crouched King, who had been smiling lovingly to the kids, lets his lips fall and huffs with an exaggerated tiredness when his wife walks in. With her fists tight at her sides, she scrunches her lips in the awaiting of an answer.
-Very well, you may join us, I think-. Aegon mumbles, fighting to not roll his eyes-. I only warn you, there are no bugs-. At the same time, he lifted Jaehaerys from the floor, taking him in his arms. Jaehaera looked up, and Helaena curved her brows, taking a step closer while her son laughs-. What do you think of that, Jaehaerys?-. He asks with a smile, turning to look at him; his precious.
The heir to the Iron Throne just babbles, hugging his father’s neck with an arm, and wobbling the other towards his mother, who quickly approached to the little princess, and took her in her arms as well, sighing.
-Mommy-, a tender call left Jaehaera’s lips, making her mom to smile while she softly rocked her. Shrinking her smile, the Queen turns to look at the King, who rocks their boy in a way she does not like at all.
-Keep him steady!-. Helaena scolds him with her soft insistent voice.
-Ugh, he’s a man, he’ll be fine-. Aegon rolls his eyes blank. The Queen and Claudia shared a silent concerned glance, barely for a second-. Now to the fun part!-. He suddenly cheers again, and begins to walk.
-What is- the fun part?-. With true great confusion and big eyes, Helaena wonders what may be fun in the midst of all the miserable happenings of these days.
-Well!-. Hugging Jaehaerys to his chest, King Aegon I smiles while they walk down the hallway-. I have a gift for them-, he pridefully smirked.
•••
In Winterfell, the royal guests have already broken their fast. After a very passionate session of “heaven” -as Jacaerys’ mind calls the act itself-, they dressed and headed to the same dining hall they shared supper in the previous night; with lesser people, in this occasion, eating in there.
Gladly, they joined the sweet Rickon; Lord Cregan’s little son, to breakfast, along two maids that were attending to him. Seated besides a good fire, and having meaty sausages and soft potatoes served in their plates, the five of them enjoyed of a warm and easy meal, constantly talking, smiling, and caressing their thighs under the table; matters to point out, that was only between the princes.
In the awaiting of Lord Stark, who still hasn’t returned from the city, as neither has his mother with him, Jacaerys and Daera found it very appropriate to go to their dragons. Together and alone, after kindly rejecting the company of knights, they walked to the snowy mountains, constantly shivering and trembling because of the cold.
At the second of seeing those brown and white manes walking up the hill, Kalistrox and Vermax immediately rejoiced, shrieking and crawling towards their riders with no ado. Jacaerys welcomed his dragon with laughs and gentle pets on his sides, while a smiley Daera kissed all of the Golden Ray’s horns, pampering his chin and calling him “Ñuha tresy”, which her husband understood it to mean “My boy”.
The dragons pushed them with their heads and pointed their golden eyes towards the skies. The riders did not doubt to oblige them, and so they kissed each other, took seat on their saddles, and raced to the skies with laughs and shrieks and clouds. The cold grew even greater, up there in the sky, but it was all worth it. Golden and green dragons played around for a good hour, racing and testing who could fly higher, any given time.
From the ground, many northerners looked up with wide eyes and parted mouths, mesmerized by the fast fiery beings. To their eyes, they looked like beasts, roaring and twisting, as if demons. To their rider’s eyes, however, they were the happiest, most gorgeous creatures, enjoying of the clouds, the breeze and their games. Joined to their happiness, Daera and Jacaerys could not stop smiling while they reigned the skies about Winterfell.
It was a most precious moment, for the four of them.
Eventually, they had to come back and down, leaving their dragons again in those mountains. The ill-tempered Vermax huffed smoke from his nose, annoyed by his rider’s leave. Kalistrox claws melted the snow below them when he heard that his white-haired love would have to leave again. Ashamed, but dearly, they kissed their dragons goodbye once again.
When returning, they came to the news that Lord Stark was still not there. With time to spare, then, the Targaryen princes made themselves busy and acquittance with some of the castle’s duties. Being royal guests, they could not help as much as they would have liked to, but the prince did get to carry some firewood from the patio to the kitchens, helping some fellas who found great amenity in him, and the princess granted around two or three songs to a handful of children who were delighted by her voice, and playing with her hair.
When Daera felt the need to attend to certain needs, she retired herself to the privy. And, when she came out again to the front yard of the castle, she found Sarah Snow asking for help to take great sacks of garden greens and essential supplies that remained on a wagon. Three boys went for her aid, and so did Prince Jacaerys, whom she personally asked help to, with a smile and a shine on her eyes. Forever a gentleman, he agreed, and took a sack.
The prince’s wife watched this from the distance of a hallway, having her hands crossed over her belly. She huffed a little smile and rolled her eyes, detesting Snow’s fancy for Jace, though she does find it a bit amusing, for he’s so very reluctant of her interest; she loves that. We may know that ignorance to jealousy is not one of Daera’s strength; she’s jealous of what belongs to her.
That thought brought her mind back in time, to Pentos, during her Seventh Heaven with Aemond, where two women made their desires of bedding the one-eyed clear, and they burned after the Rogue Princess whispered “Dracarys” to her dragon’s ears while scratching his chin. There is more to that story, but today is not the day we’ll know of it.
Daera looked down, gulping, and expulsed Aemond out of her mind, or at least she forced herself to think she did. The princess turns around, and walks away from the sight of Sarah battling her lashes to the brown-haired Velaryon. Daera walks by herself, maintaining an easy expression on her face, though her mind is infested.
Alyssa, Visenya, Helaena, Jaehaera…she misses her dear girls; she longs them. The princess misses everyone, but those four, along her sweet sweet Jaehaerys, are straight out of her grasp, either gone to the gods, or trapped with The Usurper and his treacherous family in King’s Landing.
She breathes in deeply, playing with her pinky finger while she turned on an aleatory corner. Wandering around another hallway, the princess squeezes her own fingers while she distractedly looks to her surroundings. And, suddenly, to her came a breeze, chillier than the other ones, which made her to shiver, and to furrow her brows.
As if the wind had been a calling¸ Daera comes face to face to the entry of the Godswood of Winterfell. It is all alone, covered in the whitest snow she has seen during this trip, with not one footstep on it. The castle’s walls keep it isolated and away from easy sight and, in the middle of all, a truly old tree stands firmly and hugely, almost taller than Winterfell itself.
Of red leaves, with an odd face carved into it, the weirtree stares back at Daera from the moment she turned her head after feeling that breeze.
The princess sides a surprised smirk, slowly turning around, and starting to head out to the Godswood. Her feet stepped on the snow, which made her to hiss lowly, shivering before the great cold. She hugs herself, laughing a little while she walks and looks around, taking in the beautiful surroundings she has found herself alone in; what a bless.
There is such a silence in here, so much that one may think Winterfell has been left alone and to the dead.
Daera sighs through her nose, walking every time slower, taking the time to appreciate how magical everything feels and looks. The Godswood in King’s Landing does not feel at all like this one, not even a bit. Perhaps it did, some time, when she hadn’t been born yet, nor any of her siblings; when Rhaenyra’s girlhood was still flourishing, and King Viserys was still married to his kind Queen, Aemma Arryn. Maybe in those times, Daera thinks, there were still real gods walking around the Red Keep. If it was so, then they surely got disgusted when seven menaces appeared; Alicent and Otto Hightower, Aegon Targaryen, Criston Cole, Larys “Clubfoot” Strong, and two other fuckers whose names she does not has the mind to think about right now. When she gets home, the princess wonders, will she be able to keep fighting against the urges of mounting Kalistrox, and bring fire to House Hightower for once and for all?
Sighing, Daera focuses on her beautiful surroundings. Slowly crossing her hands behind her back, she lightly rocks her body from side to side, fixating her purple gaze in the weirtree in front of her, who stares back at all moments, as if it has life of its own. Curious, she tilts her head, gulping.
Snowdrops that fall on her mane instantly get mixed with its whiteness. Some melt against her hot head, while other remain lingering in between those curls, spread around them as if they were sprinkles of ashes instead of snow.
It’s been days already since she and her husband left the South of Westeros. Both the Vale and the North are beautiful places, and have welcomed them with open arms, yes, but our princess grows restless every time she remembers war still lingers around her home while they are here, so far away from everyone, everything. They have not extended their visit here, but Aegon still sits the throne and fancies himself as King, Rhaenyra still mourns while simultaneously leading a council, Daemon readies himself for the march to Harrenhal, her siblings are without their older ones, and Aemond-
Daera looks up, clenching her jaw, and gulping. Lightly shaking her head, she thinks about what Aemond is. A traitor. It pains her as nothing else has pained her, but how is she supposed to call him? How is she supposed to call the husband that turned his back on her, and accomplished every dread she ever named to fear, in the span of a single fucking day? Viserys’ dying corpse was probably still mumbling his loved ones’ names and crying for help while the Greens took action and run to fetch Blackfyre and The Conqueror’s Crown for their mummer of a king.
Following that, the way that she was informed that he was all but pleased to let her grandmother -their marriage’s only ally, their wedding’s host!- locked and disattended as a prisoner of them. They would have probably taken her to the King’s Justice, Daera is sure, if it hadn’t been for Rhaenys’ rushed rescue orchestrated by Ser Erryk Cargyll. And after that, Visenya; the stillborn wrinkled body her own eyes saw slid from her step-mother’s sex, lifeless and stiff, a sad little thing.
Gods, all this, and we are not even mentioning his cruel acts, way before the usurpation. We have yet to talk about the joyous pregnancy he stole from her, the child that was supposed to belong to them both, as a fruit of their love. He dared name her Alyssa, as their grandmother, and then he himself plucked her from her. He cursed Alyssa’s name, proclaimed her a bastard to be, and obligated his Daera to drink Moon Tea, and to gulp the babe away.
She was supposed to have another sister. She was supposed to be a mother…she’s ready for it. And…he took it all away from her.
-Princess-. A voice interrupted the silence of the Godswood.
Daera had been looking down, with shiny sad eyes and a pout in her lips that looked more miserable than what she’d like. Flooded by sad thoughts, the young woman almost brought herself to tears and whines, until the arriving of someone saved her from spending that shame in front of the sacred weirtree.
The princess turns her head around, her white curls bouncing when she did so. Covered in thick dark clothes of fur, wielder of steel-blue eyes and the sword Ice, Lord Cregan Stark walked pass the Godswood’s entry, and now approaches with calm steps and a cold calmed gaze, looking at her.
-My Lord!-. Briefly raising her brows, Daera salutes. He greeted back with a sided tiny smile and a nod, resting his elbow on the sword’s handle while he walks to her. Within a second, the princess eyes her surroundings, and raises her brows once again-. Oh, I- my most sincere apologies, I don’t know if I’m allowed to be here-. She suddenly ponders, recalling the Godswood are a sacred place for the Stark family.
-I had been given to understand you are not renowned for apologizing, princess-. Cregan’s marked northern accent speaks to her with easiness and maybe a little bit of fun; just a little. He is as Baela once described the Starks are like; too pretty and too serious.
-I know to pay my respect, if needed be, my lord-. Daera answered with a light shrug, intertwining her fingers on her belly, and smiling at him. A chuckle came from his lordship’s throat at the same time he halted his steps, arriving in front of her. He looks at her for some silent seconds, starting to nod.
-You can be here-. He simply answered, side-eyeing the weirtree they stand before. The princess, with her lips closed, made her smile wider, thanking him with a silent head move.
The lord and the princess stand in the middle of the Godswood, face to face while the snow around falls with slowness and easiness. A soft breeze that blows makes their manes to bounce lightly, and their skins to shiver, though his lordship is very well accustomed to it, not even minding it. Princess Daera, on the other side, dissimulates when she hugs herself.
-My husband and I were told about your unplanned departure, and that of your mother’s, early in the morning-. Princess Daera recalls with a curious expression, narrowing her eyes. Lord Stark breathes in, staring at the skies-. We do hope everything it’s under order-. She lifts her brows, squeezing her own fingers.
-Everything is now-. Cregan nods with confidence, looking back at the purple of her eyes-. Lady Stark and I had to turn our attention to The Neck as soon as we were told some vandals made a butchery scene in one of the swamps; do forget my bluntness, princess-. The Lord speaks with seriousness, and then is quick to apologize, briefly curving his brows.
If Daera wasn’t a good liar, she wouldn’t be where she is right now, neither would anything be the same. So, employing her knowledge of the art, the princess is swift to properly react to the information, frowning, parting her lips and scrunching her nose a little, looking perturbed.
-Oh, Gods-. She mumbles with discomfort, looking as if she didn’t even want to picture the scene. Little does the Young Wolf of the North knows that her hands were the ones to butcher those men and women and then feed them to the dragons. As she had foreseen the night of the killing, it was wise to not let them burn the men, but to simply eat them, for dragonfire would have been way to harder to explain in the middle of a damp swamp. Rather, easier-. Sad news-, she pouts.
-With which I do not wish to trouble you with, Princess-. The gentleman Cregan quickly says, moving a hand in the air in sign of denial. Daera briefly bites her inferior lip, nodding to him with an ashamed doubt-. Turning to nicer matters, I’m told you shared the meal of the morning with my Rickon-. He politely smiles.
The princess’ eyes immediately shine when thinking of the child.
-Ah, yes, we did!-. She happily nods, which made the lord to begin to smile-. A lovely boy you have, my Lord, whose desire of smashing food with his hands has not gone unnoticed-. The princess speaks with fun and gladness. Cregan’s teeth show while he hears of his son-. And neither his love for cats!-. Daera openly laughed and, this time, the Lord joined her, the both of them chuckling.
-He has them by the thousand, indeed-. Lord Cregan nods, smiling as he learns his son is apparently a delight to the princess, as he should be.
Granting him a kind smile, Daera snickers, and silently glances at the weirtree that stand besides them. She looks at its carved face and red leaves, slowly calming down her expression when she remembers what she had been thinking of before the Lord arrived to the Godswood.
Silent as well, not uncomforted by this, Lord Cregan follows her purple eyes, and discovers them placed in the red-leaf tree. He smirks, so tiny, eyeing it too for a couple seconds, and then looking back at her interested face.
-Do you have one of these, in Dragonstone, princess?-. Lord Stark questions with curiosity, resting his hands on his sword’s handle. She looks back at him with tranquil lavender eyes.
-I am afraid we do not, my Lord, as they cannot grow in volcanic lands-. Daera kindly giggles, raising her brows. He nods with a light expression, understanding. She breathes in, and stares at it once again, suddenly beginning to smile-. But we have our beach, our caves…our dragonmont-. Her sweet voice speaks when she looks back at him, funnily shrugging as she names those places of her home.
-It only sounds so marvelous-. Lord Cregan comments with kindness, never been to Dragonstone himself.
-Oh, it so much is-. The princess sighs, closing her eyes, and making on purpose a funny face, scrunching her nose and twisting her lips. That won a laugh from him, and Daera thought how fun it is that the same face that made Rickon laugh, at breakfast, also made his father to-…Ah, more than enough-. She sighed, once again, shaking her head.
Mentally, he wonders if she is always this open and expressive; stories about her prove that she is. Observative, Cregan is aware of the yearning that started to shine on her eyes since they mentioned Dragonstone. There is longing, as if she was wishing to be there right now. As a matter of fact, she, indeed, is.
-You miss your family-. He didn’t ask it, but deduced it, leaving the formalities a little behind. When hearing the truth spoken loudly, Daera sighed through her nose and loosed her shoulders, marking her clavicle.
A part of her feels ridiculous, for she knows she’s not been away from them for long. Hells, she used to spend ten days each moon at the capital, away from them, with no problem! But here…now…it’s different. They’ve not come here on a whim, but to gain safeness to their family and, in order to do so, they had to come this far. And, honestly, she hates it, and everything that has caused it.
-I utterly do, my Lord-. Daera was not shy to confess to him, whispering with her eyes briefly closed. When she opened them, his hard face granted her a compressive expression, and highly kind eyes-…Very much-. She whispered, thinking of all of them; Joffrey, whom she longed to clutch to her chest; Rhaena, whom she ached to hug; Luke, whose hair she wished to kiss; Baela, beside whom she wished to lay; the twins, to whom she yearned to sing; Nyra, with whom she longed to jest; and Daemon, with whom she wanted to train.
Cregan looks at her with reading eyes, blinkless and listening, thinking himself of that kind of yearning.
-…Why didn’t they come?-. Lord Stark asked within a soft whisper. Even though he got an explanation at last night’s dinner, something does not convince him; this type of longing in the princess’ eyes goes beyond the mere missing of some days.
The Lord’s suspicions are true, for she misses more than them; she misses how things used to be.
The white-haired princess looks at him with stiff eyes and, soon, she begins to smile tinyly, humming under her breath. Afterwards, the two of them turned their heads when they noticed someone else arriving to the Godswood, someone of darker hair than the very Lord.
Prince Jacaerys joined them with the aura of everything good in this world.
-My Lord! So very good to see you-. The prince approaches with a smile and a swift pace, rubbing his hands together. Daera felt air leaving her lungs.
-My prince, my feelings are the same-. Lord Cregan kindly greeted him with politeness, slowly taking a discreet step back. Jacaerys smiled back at him, reaching the princess’ side, and placing a hand on her lower back.
-My dear wife-. He greeted her too, looking at her with telling eyes and a smirk. Daera turns her head fully to him, blinkless.
She must be going insane, or things are really changing (some for the better, though our princess still does not know), but when she saw Jace, she melted. Having been thinking of how much she misses her home and her family, to see him was a refreshment, a reminder that she is not alone in here. He represents all the goodness of what is going on; from the spirit of fight for what is their right, to the great comfort his hands, eyes and words now bring to her.
Princess Daera, ever the soldier and oldest child of her family, does not longer stand alone, for her brother, Prince Jacaerys, is a man now, and he stands right besides her. Her husband, Jacaerys, has turned into her joy and pride, and it gladdens us to attest that it will remain as so until the last of his days, and hers.
She looks at him with clouds for eyes, lovingly and sweetly smirking to him within a sigh from her nose, letting her shoulders loose while she, too, places a hand on his lower back, and pats it with dearness.
-Husband-. The princess greeted him too, with a string of voice. Jacaerys smiled at her for what it felt an eternity, though it were actually three seconds, admiring her beauty and thinking of her everything, and how beautifully she’s looking at him.
Since their arrival, Lord Cregan has asked twice to his maesters for how long the princes have been married, and the answers were the same the two times: a year. Bemused, twice he has commented to his closest friends how these two stare and smile at each other as if they were moments away from consummating their marriage for the first time. “The lovebirds of Dragonstone”, many in both court and in the town are styling them, for they too have been spectators of the clear fondness of each other.
-We were talking about home-. Princess Daera comments to her husband, sighing, and raising her brows.
-Home?-. He repeats and, as same as her, his eyes shined with yearn when thinking of their Dragonstone.
-Your kind wife was telling me about your beaches, and the marvels your island possess-. Lord Cregan informs with a polite tone, signaling at the whit-curled princess, who snickered under her breath while nodding and looking at him.
-Marvels you yourself should go to meet yourself, Lord Cregan-. Prince Jacaerys friendly proposed to him, lifting up his brows. His lordship grins with flatter, nodding surprised-. We are sure our siblings would adore a visit from the North-. He says with a smile, turning his face to look at Daera, who huffed through her nose and looked at him too, both smiling when thinking of Baela’s nerves towards northerners.
-Would they?-. Lord Stark questions with a smile, crossing his hands over his abdomen, noticing how happily they look when speaking of his siblings.
-Our sister, Rhaena, is very fond of your histories and tales-. Jacaerys answered with amenity, laughing when thinking of all the books they’ve read together.
-Oh-, Cregan raises a brow.
-And Joffrey, our brother, of your accent!-. Daera pointed within funny chuckles, scrunching her eyes-. It’s always him asking “does this sound like a northern accent?”, and then starts to yell all around!-. She giggles, and the brown-haired men joined her, chuckling lightly to the air.
Taking no offense, Cregan cackled with the princes, allowing himself to feel this easy after the heavy morning he had. However, a heavy feeling does places itself in his chest some seconds later, when he sees and feels how much they seem to love their siblings, only by the way they speak of them.
Squeezing his fingers around Ice’s handle, Lord Stark sighs through his nose and looks at the weirtree, staring directly into the face of it. The princes, curious, did so as well, silently interlocking their elbows together.
-I had a brother-. Cregan informed in a distracted mumble, staring at the tree. The confession made the spouses to look back at him, troubled, for they did not know this.
-You did, my Lord?-. Jacaerys questions in a mumble, gripping Daera’s elbow with his.
-Uhum, aye-. He smiles thinly, taking his glance to the white snow below-. His name was…Aaron-, he recalls with softness. Daera eyes him with worry but silence, letting him speak-. He died young-. Cregan recalls, looking up at them again, with an expression of acceptance, but did not lack sadness.
-I’m very sorry, my Lord-. The brown-eyed prince spoke with heavy lament, while his wife looked at him with curved brows.
-‘Twas a long time ago, and he was young and small-. Lord Cregan cracks a quick smile for a second while he remembers his gone brother. When hearing those adjectives he described him with, Daera couldn’t help but to think of her own little brothers; Luke, especially.
-Was it a fever?-. The princess asks with a tender voice, and the lord nodded in silence, sighing through his nose while looking at them. She presses her lips and sides her head, curving her brows to him, ashamed-. I am very sorry-. An honest whisper left her lips.
-Thank you, my princes-. Lord Cregan smiled tinyly at the both of them, truly appreciating their humanity and kindness.
Gulping, Jace shivers by the only thought of losing a sibling. Another one, at that, for Visenya’s stolen life still aches in his heart. He might tear, right here and right now, if he keeps on thinking how would it be to lose another one, any of them. Viserys, Baela, Joffrey, Rhaena, Luke, Aegon, Daera. The threat of war at presence only makes him to fear more.
Taking air through his nose, he eyes his wife, who looks back at him with heavy eyes, thinking of the same.
-We would do anything for them, wouldn’t we?-. Princess Daera asks with softness, turning her eyes from one brown-haired to the other. Jacaerys pressed his lips, looking up to the white sky.
Meanwhile, Lord Cregan fixated his eyes on her, interested in her tone, which is almost grievous, if not entirely. He narrows his eyes, and she shamelessly looks at him with hers, blinkless. Her white curls fall at the sides of her face, which jaw is clenched and lips are closed. Her purple eyes, shiny, look at him as if she was expecting for him to do something.
So, he spoke.
-Why didn’t they come?-. And he stressed the question from before, stressing every word said.
Jacaerys turned his head to look at his wife, serious and decided. She cocked her head to look at him from her height, giving a single blink and briefly lifting her cheeks in a swift smirk of acceptation; it is time.
-Lord Stark, we apologize if the Godswood is not the most appropriate place to tell you this, but it is no secret to you that we came in the behalf of our duty-. Princess Daera speaks with a growing firmness, raising his brows towards him.
-Politics-. Cregan quickly remembers what they’ve said, nodding.
-We flew to the Vale and here, the North, faster than ravens so that you all would hear the news first from our mouths, and not from those of the Usurpers-. Prince Jacaerys declared, crossing his hands, and speaking firmly.
That is when the Lord of the North grows confused. He knitted his brows and parted his lips, looking at the both of them with trouble and interest, not following, but already fearing the worst. And so, the worst came.
-King Viserys is dead-. The former King’s oldest grandson informed, lifting up his chin, and not thinking of the pain the fact causes him. Lord Cregan was left shocked, opening his eyes a little wider than normal, and taking a breath in.
-The Greens have stolen the throne, and Aegon the Usurper sits it-. King Viserys’ oldest niece spoke with coldness and rigidity.
-We have come to ask for your support, and that of your bannermen-. Prince Jacaerys declared.
-So we can bring an end to this fucking treachery-. Princess Daera could not hold her anger any longer, and spoke it plainly.
Clenching his jaw, Lord Cregan Stark stares at the both of them, eyeing their decided factions, taking the new reality in, and then lifting up his chin and gaze.
-Let us talk politics-. The Young Wolf determined, a serious frown stealing across his face.
•••
As of consequence to Princess Rhaenys’ scape from the Greens’ grasp, and the violent manner her dragon broke The Dragonpit’s floors and main grounds employed, the Crown had fetched constructors, stonemasons and builders by the hundred so they’d clean all dust, fix all damage, and glue all tile that had been broken.
And so they are; under a kind sun belonging to past midday, these hard workers take wagons, cements and brooms from one side to another, attending to the sacred structure’s mending and restauration. Most of them turned their heads with curious frowns and sweated noses when noticing House Targaryen bannermen -who carry green flags with the three-headed golden dragon the Greens have taken as mantle- escorting a royal wheelhouse that, surprisingly, stopped right in front of The Dragonpit.
When all the horses and wheels stopped, Helaena peeked through the tiny holes of the carriage, and a great worry stole her frown when she saw where they’ve been brought to; a place where the dead are still being carried away. She briefly shakes her head, confused, and immediately looks at her children, not liking them to be here.
Before she could even speak, Aegon was already taking Jaehaerys in his arms, with a big smile on his face.
-Out we go, boy!-. The King speaks funnily, taking his son’s waist, and lifting him up from his seat. Helaena is quick to reaffirm her daughter in her arms, and to start standing up as well.
A guard from outside opened the doors for them, and so the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; Aegon and Helaena, and their children; princes Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, stepped out of the royal wheelhouse, instantly receiving a harsh breeze that brings the smell of death, rocks and sweat.
-Why have you brought us here?-. Queen Helaena questioned with a scrunched nose and a tired expression. She only hears laughs from her husband and son, who walk ahead of them.
-My heir!-. Smiling, Aegon funnily boops Jaehaerys’ nose, and the boy immediately shrieked and chuckled with fun, trying to hide his face from his father, who carries him with firmness. So rare, it is, to see him this happy, and this little drunk.
-Your Grace…-, kind and with a respectful tone, a guard signs the Queen to keep walking with them.
Her Grace gulped, clutched her girl harder to her chest, and began to walk between the guards and behind her family, looking around with every step she gives. She thinks how ironic, if not cruel, is the fact that the Dragonpit is placed on The Hill of Rhaenys -called as so in honor of one of Aegon the Conqueror’s queens-, which days ago suffered great losses and a disaster by the hand of, as if it was a jest from the gods, princess Rhaenys herself, -cousin to the late King Viserys I, and Lady of Driftmark; The Queen Who Never Was-.
Representing one of King’s Landing more resisting and tall strongholds, the Dragonpit may have had its troubles in these days of late, but let its greatness not be underestimated, for the arena that had been attacked its only one of the many the pit possess; that’s why the King and his family found easy entry to the temple by other gates; not the main ones, nevertheless.
Soon, the four white-haired found themselves walking under a high roof and over harsh sand. King Aegon goes with Jaehaerys in his arms, as Queen Helaena with Jaehaera. Curious and silent, their daughter eyes everything around. Their son, more attentive to his fun, plays with his father’s rings and crown.
-Hello!-. The King’s voice echoes through the arena. At the distance, standing firmly, two dragonkeepers bowed their heads to them, in complete silence. Aegon smiles unquietly, and opens his eyes big, nodding-. You may go on!-. He tilts his head with certain mock, pointing his eyes towards another place.
The dragonkeepers, an older and a younger, bowed their heads once again, and departed some stairs down, as if they went to look for something by order of the King. His Grace laughs, excited, turning all of his attention to his son, once again, after smiling with a scrunched nose to Jaehaera, who hugs her mother clingily.
The children’s mom grew a little calmer since she stepped in the pit, for now she hears and feels Dreamfyre’s heartbeats on her own. Her dragoness nests right under their feet, right now, and knows her rider is here. From the underneath, she grumbled, and Queen Helaena grinned when feeling her feet trembling because of it. None can deny the love the dragon Dreamfyre, previous mount of Rhaena Targaryen, eldest and firstborn child to King Aenys I, holds for the sweet girl Helaena, since this one claimed her in a stormy morning of the seventh moon of a long-gone year, in her childhood.
It took only a few minutes for the dragonkeepers to come back to the arena. This time, there are two more with them, and between the four of them carry two metal incubators; black, delicate and large…and steaming. Helaena parts her lips, with a great great feeling of a fear she could not explain. Is that what she thinks it is?
-Now, I do know I accidentally forgot their first name day-. Aegon pouts and shrugges with little importance, waving a hand in the air while, behind him, the dragonkeepers approach with caution-, but…! It’s their first, they’ll forget it too-. The King shamelessly excused himself, briefly cackling, and giving a touch to Jaehaera’s head; the girl blinks.
Helaena slowly curves her brows, never looking away from the incubator, which the keepers placed in front of them. That thing of metal stands firmly and imponent in front of them.
-However, a gift is ever welcomed…-. Mumbling, His Grace signed the dragonkeepers to the incubators, and they were swift to take both metal lids away. They carefully lift them up, uncovering what’s inside. To look closer, the children and their father did the same mimic; leaning front with open mouth and eyes.
A heavy cloud of steam flourishes all around them, making the arena hotter and drier. The four pair of purple eyes are blessed by the sight of two steaming dragon eggs. The one in the left is of grey dark scales, shining as much as silver, whilst the one of the right is more inclined towards a bronze color; brown and of glittering scales.
-Dreamfyre’s-. A prideful mumble left the King’s lips, forever staring at the dragon eggs. Honestly surprised, Helaena blinked in silence, eyeing the eggs she now knows are her dragon’s-. They shall be placed on their cradles from this night on-. He lifts up his chin with cockiness, and then looks at his children-. You like that, do you not?-. He smiled bigger when he saw Jaehaera staring at him, and raised a hand to caress her cheeks.
Almost unconsciously, the Queen took a step back, forbidding the King’s touch to reach the child. That made the air heavy. Aegon stopped right on his tracks, lifting up his eyes towards his sister-wife, who looks at him with pressed lips and unquietness, never blinking. Like that as well, he sucks his inferior lip, and takes his hand away, placing it under the boy in his arms, who now is silent.
Staring at her, Aegon wonders why she does not seem happy with these handsome gifts for their children. Staring at the eggs instead, Helaena pities them, not knowing what exactly it was, but feeling a catastrophe may befall the dragonlings inside them. They are too innocent.
Helaena takes a hand to her belly, lightly caressing it. When noticing so, Aegon stands stiffer, recalling the fact that she now carries their third child. He gulps, and makes a scrunched brief face, looking around.
-Yeah…-. Uncomfortable, he scratches the back of his neck. She looks at him in silence-. Sorry for that-, he mumbles, vaguely pointing at her belly. Helaena stares at him with cold eyes, nearly wanting to roll them away from him.
The Queen ultimately got to look away from the King, who also bopped his head when they hear some heavy steps approaching. When the siblings turn, they find their younger coming to them.
-Aemond-. Jaehaerys babbled with a smile, and Aegon’s jaw fell to the floor in disbelief.
As the toddler named, the one coming is prince Aemond Targaryen. With frizzy hair and his eyepatch a little misplaced, he approaches with an interested face and hurriless steps, analyzing the scene while he arrives to it. Four dragonkeepers stand at the distance with metal lids, and a metal incubator holds two steaming dragon eggs the children were staring with awe at before. His siblings, Aegon and Helaena, see him coming.
As soon as he heard his sweet sister had taken leave from the Red Keep with their brother, The King, Aemond made haste to get to them, for he accustoms to never leave Helaena alone with her husband; he never has. It felt only…weird to be doing it without Daera, for she used to join him in these errands concerning Helaena’s safety too. Matters to note, there have obviously been times when Aemond went to his sister’s rescue while his wife was on Dragonstone but, now, in these lonely days…he only thinks of the days he was with her.
-Helaena-, the one-eyed prince calls with hurry and mistrust, side-eyeing his older brother when he got to them.
In those days, Helaena would sigh with relief and step behind her brother, letting him to be her shield and savior. In today and now, she clenched her jaw with nerves, and took a step back, furthering from both brothers this time, and Jaehaera with her. Noticing this, Aemond’s heart ached; he gulped, halting his steps and looking at her almost with scolding, not believing that she insists on keeping this attitude with him since he came back from the Stormlands.
-Do my children- say your name?-. Flabbergasted, Aegon questions with wide eyes and an afflicted throat, looking at the younger with disbelief. Gaining a stiff posture, he side-eyes him.
-Of course they do-. Aemond bragged with seriousness, humble and obvious.
-Since, uh, when?-. Aegon moves a hand in the air, looking for explanations. Helaena, in silence, looks at Jaehaerys, wanting for him to be in her arms as well, where she knows he likes it more.
-Must I truly explain it, brother?-. The prince narrows his eye, almost cocky, clearly implying what His Grace clearly knows; his children spend way more time with their uncle than with he himself, thus, they know his name, and call it with dearness.
-Huh…-. Licking his inferior lip, the King looks away with a sarcastic smile, nodding.
While Aegon does a vague sign to the dragonkeepers, Aemond looks at the dragon eggs in the incubator. His eye shine, he parts his lips, and lifts up his gaze to both Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, bemused.
-They are…?-. The prince whispers, pointing at the eggs. His niece and nephew look back at him, lightly smiling due to listening at his soothing voice, that which reads them to sleep and sometimes hums the song their aunt Daera sings for them.
Curious, Helaena reads his reaction; he’s overwhelmed.
-My kids’ dragons, yes-. Aegon answers with a huff, paying more attention to the dragonkeepers, who are placing the lids back in their place, covering the dragon eggs again.
The Queen, with softer eyes, sees how her brother gulps, and loses his eye in the sand. His mind was lost too, now in the thoughts of the last night he shared with his love, Daera. Back to their island, back to their hut…back to their fire and love.
-So...-Aemond's thin and beautifully shaped lips smirk as his purple eye looks at her-. Are you jealous because the children already say my name, and not yours yet?-. He tauntly asks.
Daera gasps, beginning to laugh amusedly, as did he too.
-Ahh, you keep taunting me, dear husband. Soon enough, I'll have them singing my name-. She speaks burlesque, placing a playful finger under his chin. He hums lowly, tilting his head with a smile as he stares at her with his eye narrowed-. They'll name their dragons after me-, Daera whispered funnily.
-Ahh, I bet they will-. Aemond sing-songs his words, smiling. She chuckles, scrunching her nose. He did the same as an automatic response, even though it’s not a custom of him, but he just loves it when she makes that face-. Gods, can you imagine? When they have their dragons-, he whispers.
Wanting to cry, the One-Eyed Prince gulps and scratches his own hands, looking away from the eggs when they were covered again. In total silence, his sister eyes him as she would have doubtlessly done before he did what he has. Teary and sad, for a second, she wished to hug him, to borrow him the ears to hear those tales of love and pain he’s clearly reminiscing about.
But Helaena forced herself to look away from him, hardening her expressions again when she despises what he has done…and fears what he will do.
The King, his siblings and his children look as the dragonkeepers escort away the incubator, taking it to their royal wheelhouse, which awaits outside of the Dragonpit.
-Well!-. Aegon rubs his hands, making Jaehaerys bounce on his arms, which made him giggle. Softening his expression, Aemond looks at him and bites a smile back, and then two more, finding the sound of his pure laugh beautiful-. Good meeting-. He raises his brows, suddenly handing the boy to his mother.
Helaena gasped, not hiding her relief nor her smile when her son finally comes back to her. With no problem, she carries the both of them, and the both of them cheered the nearness too, dearly clinging to their mom’s arms and shoulders, which made her to giggle, and to rock them.
King Aegon nods and starts to walk, but his brother’s voice quickly halted his steps.
-Any news from Dragonstone?-. Interested and serious, the One-Eyed asked. His Grace turns around with an easy and almost disinterested face, looking around for some moments while thinking. Aemond wishes to know anything, something that may give him insight of how his wife is doing and, besides that, how their enemy is comporting.
The King shrugs.
-The woman has stayed silent, as she should-. Aegon answered with cockiness, thinking of their half-sister, Rhaenyra. Helaena, only listening to her kids’ babbles and laughs, stays out of the conversation. Aemond, meanwhile, hummed lowly-. As you should be patrolling the skies, brother-. He points, suddenly remembering that he had been dispatched to patrol with Vhagar this morning.
-I come from so, Your Grace-. The prince calmly excused himself, crossing his tense arms behind his back.
Prince Aemond, as though he may stand firmly and look as groomed as always, has a veil of tiredness covering him. There are light bags under his eyes, and his lips are dry. He looks like he needs sleep, though dreams and rest seldom find him these nights, despite how long he may stay in bed.
-Not enough-. Aegon simply shrugges and shakes his head with looseness. His brother tights his fists, opening his eye wider towards him-. I need your eyes in the skies, Aemond, I don’t want my people to fear-. He speaks with high taunt and sarcasm, employing a fake tone of scolding. The jealousies that lay on his chest, regarding his children’s relationship with their uncle, do not weight light-. Dare I say…your eye?-. He holds a laugh.
Helaena looks up at him, furrowing her brows, while Aemond’s blood starts to boil as much as Vhagar’s breath.
-A jest!-. The King’s laugh makes echo around all the arena-. A jest, brother!-. He funnily sighs, palming Aemond’s stiff back. His inferior lip trembles, full of rage.
The sound of the gates suddenly being pushed opened made the siblings to turn their heads around with wide eyes, while Helaena flinched. Who they find entering, however, is not a menace at all, but their youngest brother, who came in with swiftness and hurry.
-Hide, hide!-. The prince Daeron Targaryen runs, moving his hands in the air, speaking lowly and looking at them warning-like.
The three of them got confused and, before they could understand, seconds after Daeron someone else enters to the Dragonpit, and this is Queen Dowager Alicent, who arrived with read ears, mad wide eyes, and a hasty pace.
-WHAT in the Seven Heavens are you doing in here?!-. Their mother roars with clear angriness, not believing all of her children are gathered in the place where their very lives were forfeited.
-Hells…-, Aegon mumbles and nervously looks around, wanting to escape.
-With them, are you serious?!-. She rages, pointing at her dear grandchildren; all they do is smile and blink. Her Sworn Protector, Ser Criston, runs behind her with the same scowl on his face.
-I tried to warn you-. Defeated, Daeron arrives to them, sighing and shrugging. Helaena welcomed him with a pat on his shoulders, which Aemond stared at with certain envy, clenching his jaw.
-Mother!-. King Aegon open his arms at the sides of his body, forcing a smile. Alicent approaches, steam nearly coming out from her ears-. Criston-, he tilts his head. Cole walks with a tense expression, neither liking for them to be here.
-Do you find it appropriate?! For me to find out on my own that you are here, and having to run down all of Visenya’s Hill?!-. Dowager Queen Alicent reproaches them with no restriction, angry by both the interruption of her prayers, and their recklessness.
-The occasion was special, mother-. Her eldest son answers with a cocky smile, shrugging. Her earrings clink when she moves her head with bemusement, waiting for a proper explanation, though she doubts there is one-. Unfortunately, you arrived too late to see them but…-, he points at his youngest brother, the Dowager Queen and her Sworn Protector.
-Aegon has gifted dragon eggs to the children-. Aemond’s raspy neutral voice answered, with him looking at his mother with a hidden desire for her to look at him; and so, she does. Alicent eyes him for a second, with her lips parted. She closed them, gulped, and looked away. His chest ached.
-Oh, really?!-. Daeron’s face shined with surprise and excitement, opening his eyes wide. Helaena begins to purely smile while looking at him, refreshed by his enthusiasm-. What happy news this noon!-. He cheerfully opens his hands.
-Indeed, brother!-. The King smiles hugely at him.
-Eggs-. Alicent repeats, letting her arms loose at the sides of her body. While Aegon nods with pride, Ser Criston looks at Helaena, who looks back at him. Rocking her children, she tinyly smirked at him, which the knight took as a sign that she’s proud of her kids’ newest acquisition. Growing softer, Cole smiled back at her, lightly nodding his head with approbation. His Queen, on the other side, huffed with disapproval-. For my grandchildren-, she stresses.
-They are to be placed on their cradles-. Queen Helaena repeated her husband’s words with a soft voice, more concentrated in cleaning a string of drool that comes out of Jaehaera’s mouth.
-I don’t like it-. Simple, Alicent is not ashamed of voicing her opinion, which made the King to erase his smile, and the one-eyed to blink with confusion-. As if we need more children toying around with powers they do not understand!-. She heavily spoke, her tone growing harsher when she nailed her wide hazel eyes on her middle son, Aemond.
Everyone stayed silent, uncomfortable, but no one as hurted as the One-Eyed Prince, whose throat got afflicted and whose gaze looked down to his mother with a pain he could scarcely hide. Incredulous, he briefly shakes his head from side to side, not willing to take one more insult from his dear loving mother.
Almost trembling, Aemond turned around from a second to another, and began to walk away from them with stiff and quick steps. Daeron tried to call him, but he only mouths the star of his name, and his breath was then left in the air, hurted for his brother. Helaena curved her brows, following with her gaze his tense walk. Alicent gulps, looking too.
-Aemond-. She harshly names, scratching her neck, and wanting him to come back, but her son pretended to be deaf besides one-eyed, and ordered the guards to open the gates-. Aemond!-. The Dowager Queen insisted, but he did not obey. Instead, he left with no more word, disappearing from their sights.
While his other siblings and Ser Criston seem to pity Aemond, Aegon pouts with his lips, totally disinterested of the present ongoings. Alicent looked at him since the gates were closed again, and only then she allowed herself to show some repentance. After gulping, she looks down, maintaining her strong appearance.
She actually thinks of how when she calls, her son always comes. Is he growing out his customs?
-Alright, enough-. Queen Alicent speaks again, looking at the rest of the children-. Back to The Keep we ought-. She orders, serious, pointing at the doors with her head. Criston eyes her in silence, realizing two buttons of her dress are undone. He gulps, wondering if anyone else has noticed.
-I will go to fly with Dreamfyre now-. Queen Helaena suddenly informed, and even more sudden she handed her kids to her mother, who stutters in shock-. See them safe home, please-. She kindly speaks, while Alicent now carries Jaehaerys and Jaehaera both.
-He-Helaena!-. Wide-eyed, the redheaded reproaches her leaving. Her daughter, however, now heads to the caves of the Dragonpit-. Aemond is to patrol the sky, not you!-. She quickly shakes her head, alerted-. You are with child!-
-Aemond is tired-. Helaena simply answered, not looking at any of them while she walks away. How much it would have lifted up the One-Eyed Prince’s spirits, to know that his sister is, in some way, stepping up for him.
-A “thank you” would be nice!-. From his place, King Aegon snorts, recognizing the children’s mother did not say a single word about the precious gift he has given them. Anxious, Alicent rocks both, seeing how Helaena’s steps slowed down-. I had two dragonkeepers burned to get them from Dreamfyre!-. He brags about his deed, opening his arms at his sides.
Helaena stops, turning her head to look at him with cold easy eyes, and a nervous grip on her own fingers.
-The mother rages, when having her children plucked from her-. The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms’ soft speech declared, with gloom and heaviness, almost shame. She, then, stares at her children with loving eyes, reading their beautiful faces for some eternal seconds. Afterwards, she leaves.
A lump grows in Alicent’s throat when her daughter’s words brought Rhaenyra to her mind. She cannot even imagine the kind of agonizing pain her once friend must be going through right now due to the loss of her son. She must be gone to grief and dolor, she knows, and all because of Aemond… her Aemond.
-So…-. Aegon’s voice takes her out of her painful throughs. He smiles awkwardly, standing there. She sighs, turning around to hand Jaehaerys to Ser Criston, who quickly took him in his arms, helping the Queen-. Praying, huh?-. He points at her, trying to look for conversation.
Alicent just tsks her tongue, rolling her eyes and heading the way with wary steps. Her son, Daeron, quickly followed, walking besides her while hugely smiling and waving his hand to Jaehaera. Her Sworn Protector, Ser Criston, joined them too towards the gates, carrying Jaehaerys with a light smile, having the kid playing with his cape.
Her son, Aegon, is left alone, his purple gaze falling to the floor. He touches his crown, which is his only companion right now; we’ll learn to fear that.
•••
The day went on as fastly as a Blackwood brings a matter of dispute with a Bracken.
When it came the sun’s time to sleep, the moon rose in the skies instead, and now she shines above Dragonstone, her rays travelling across the clouds and fog of the island. Its breezes are cold, and its ambient has not changed…that of grief, a somber one.
In one of the towers of the Targaryen castle, the princess Rhaenys has changed to her night clothes. Not minding the cold of outside, the princess stands in the balconies of her room, with both her hands placed on the railing, and her brows somewhat frowned. Her purple eyes stare forward, never blinking.
Between the tides and the clouds, there is not much she can see but, from there, her ears catch a song that she knows too well, for there was a time she was accustomed to it, to hear it every day along Vhagar’s snores; Seasmoke’s song.
The dragon that once belonged to her son, Laenor, has been flying around the island for hours now, restless and unquiet, growling and snarling and roaring. Highly confused, the Lady of Driftmark’s heart beats with pain, wondering as to why her son’s former dragon seems to be driven by madness, suddenly.
Seasmoke has been riderless for years, so…it makes no sense to her.
When she blinked, tears came down from her purple eyes. When she breathed in, her chest and lips trembled. When she breathed out, her shoulders and posture fell. Soon enough, Rhaenys’ forehead ended on the balcony’s railing, resting it on it when she allowed herself to let out the whines and sobs she had been retaining the entire bloody day.
Rhaenys cries from the bottom of her heart, from the rottenest places of her chest and mind, broken. She wants to see her son again, and oh, her brave daughter; how much she misses them both. Every time she blinks, she just sees their faces, and the faces of their children, the only ones who are still by her side.
When she closes her eyes, she feels Laenor kissing her forehead and cheeks before departing to his trainings with Ser Joffrey; the Knight of Kisses, happily singing sailor shanties out loud. When she closes her eyes, she watches Laena combing her hair while walking around Driftmark’s hallways, gossiping with friends and bragging about her flights with Vhagar. When she closes her eyes…she sees Lucerys’ pink cheeks, and his ruffled hair being blown by the breeze while he compliments how much he loves the biscuits she makes.
Rhaenys sobs heavily, hiding her face behind her hands.
Seasmoke sings, but Laenor is gone, and now his son too -at least who he loved his son as-. After all these years, since the boy’s birth, for the first time ever, Laenor and Luke have something in total common…they have both been taken by The Stranger in the cruelest way possible.
And, in another room of Dragonstone, the princess Rhaena suffers too the loss of that boy of dark hair and pink cheeks.
The Chamber of The Painted Table would be completely alone, as it should be at these late hours of night, if it weren’t for Rhaena. The girl is seated on the mere floor, not minding its coldness nor its harshness; her feelings are worse than them, to be sure.
The young princess sits right in front of the lighted fireplace. Exhausted purple eyes stare at it with misery and no grace; her lips are chapped and parted, barely taking brief breaths in while she endlessly looks at the fire. Her back is slouched, and between her hands she holds a thick old book; hers and Luke’s favorite.
It is impossible to know for certain how many times they’ve read those Valyrian histories, right by this fire, or by his room’s. They shared endless nights reading to Joffrey, as much as when he was a babe as to just some nights ago. They read it to Aegon and Viserys too. They would read it alone, and then they would speak about it. They would stare into each other’s eyes…so purely.
Rhaena’s lips tremble while she looks down at the book in the middle of her salty tears. She caresses the hard cover with her cold fingers, sobbing, thinking of him and only him. She felt it from the start; Lucerys should have not flown from Dragonstone that day, away from her, nor any day of his life. She should have fought harder for him to stay, but she didn’t.
And now Luke is gone.
After a broken sob of her made echo, she opened her eyes when feeling someone taking seat at her sides. By her left, she finds Joffrey, and by her right, she finds Baela. The two of them carry tears in their eyes too, and stare at the fire with the same grief and heaviness as her, tired.
Rhaena weakly whines, placing a hand on Joff’s hair and pulling her to him. Her brother leaned his head on her arm, hugging himself to it, and wetting her sleeve with his tears. With the other hand, Rhaena took Baela’s, and she gripped her fingers in the middle of a sob, nodding to her. The sisters stare at each other whilst they cry.
-Aegon and…and Viserys would not stop crying-. The older sister speaks with a thin voice, briefly raising her brows. Rhaena gulps heavily, thinking of her dear baby brothers.
-…How could any of us?-. She whispers with pain, furrowing her brows.
Baela turns to the fire, gulping tightly. Sad and down, Joffrey looks at her, and sees how her jaw got clenched, and her tears shinier.
-It was mother’s dragon-. Baela pointed out in a sour whisper-. We let him take her, and look what happened-. The princess hisses with poison, thinking about The One-Eyed Prince, and the imminent hate he has from her, and all of her family.
While Baela curses Aemond’s name, Rhaena instead curses herself, and blames her too, for she can only think about how different things would be if she had at least a half of the bravery her father and sisters have; she would have claimed Vhagar, years ago, and none of this misery would be taking place at all.
-Where is mommy?-. A thin worried murmur left Joffrey’s lips. He looks at both his sister, and they look at him with parted lips and opened eyes, not even thinking about telling him the truth; that Rhaenyra sullies her wellbeing by being all alone and cold in the Stormlands, looking for their brother with screams, thunders and pain.
-She is…dealing with this in her own way, Joff-. Rhaena answered, as softly as possible, caressing the boy’s brown mane. Her sister nods quickly, backing her answer.
With a sad pout in his lips, Joffrey looked down, and his eyes fell on the fire in front of them. He misses her mother, and everyone else that, for some reason or another, neither are here with them.
-And Jace and Daera too?-. All innocent, he questions in the middle of a sob, looking up at his sisters again, whose eyes shined with sadness and surprise-. I miss them!-. The boy shrieks, hiding his face on Rhaena’s arm, hugging it tightly.
Rhaena closes her eyes with pain, and leans to hug the boy, consoling him the best she can. Baela, meanwhile, grows restless.
-Daera and Jace-, she names in a whisper, shaking her head. The princess gulps, afflicting her throat with despair while looking at them-. They need to know!-. She cries, curving her brows.
Their older siblings, being this far away, are detached from everything going on in the Crownlands; are they lucky for still not knowing? Or are they to be stricken the worst by this sudden news, with no proper notice? Of one thing Baela is sure and correct; they do need to know.
The echo of her words traveled around all of The Chamber of the Painted Table and, unbeknownst to all of them, Prince Daemon hides in one of the staircases of the room. With clenched jaw and fists, he has tears on his raged eyes and red on his cheeks. In one ear, he listens to Baela, Rhaena and Joffrey’s crying, in the other he listens to Aegon and Viserys’. In his mind, he listens to Rhaenyra’s.
The Rogue Prince clenches his teeth, and within a second, he leaves the room completely, his raged steps heading him to the office of Maester Gerardys. Daemon sobs and then growls, slashing away the tears that boiled on his face due to his hot blood.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, explicit sex (p on v), oral sex (male receiving), angst and sadness, adultery, virginity loss, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•••
《 The Husbands of Princess Daera Targaryen; The Mother Knight 》
•••
When the royal twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera Targaryen, firstborns of the presently King Aegon II and Queen Helaena Targaryen, turned six moons of age -nearly a year-, an unusual spirit of celebration and joy placed itself on the heart of Queen -now Dowager Queen- Alicent Hightower.
Forever her grandchildren’s pamper, Alicent ordered and had arranged a trip to the Kingswood in celebration of their half year of age. As soon as she demanded, everything was prepped, settled, and half of The Red Keep rode to the woods with rest and celebration as their purpose.
Queen Helaena, the kids’ mother, loved the idea of spending the night in nature, away from the cold castle she has lived all of her life. When hearing of the upcoming camp, she danced of joy and, with her, her brother Aemond, and the wife of his; Daera Targaryen.
-Fuck yeah!-. Daera holds her fists up.
-A marvelous idea!-. Aemond growls with a smile, grabbing her waist and lifting her in the air.
She cackled loudly, opening her arms widely while, from the balcony of her chambers, Helaena clapped and looked at the spouses with a bright smile.
As we well know, Daera is the little princes’ Godsmother; it was only and ever her duty to fly to King’s Landing and to spend ten days with them each moon, to bring them gifts and kisses and to help their mother in everything she needed. The gods blessed her when aligning her monthly visit to the exact week they were to leave to the woods.
And so, they did.
Royal wheelhouses and ferocious horses took them to The Kingswood on a sunny morning the capital was blessed with. When the royal family arrived, they found everything ready and settled, from their elaborated camping tents to the bonfire where the next lunch would be cooked; a greasy and gigantic wild boar that some lords of the court, with the help of prince Aemond’s riding skills, hunted for the day.
The settlement was beautiful; blue and clear skies shared by Kalistrox and Dreamfyre’s lifted spirits. Both dragons, as close as their riders, constantly coiled their tails between the clouds and flew together from here and there, taking smiles from the princesses, and blank eyes from prince Aegon.
Aegon hated the trip. Besides the lack of proper beds and cushions and mud-less floors, the thing he despised the most during it was the constants memories of fucking everybody about how his second name day was celebrated right in-
-“…in between these pines and breeze”. I know, my lord, I know!-. Aegon suddenly snapped to Lord Jason Lannister, faking smiling to him when the lion lord started too to tell his own memories of that long passed day-. Many have told the tale, already-. He chuckles with no grace, blinkless-. I’m told my sister declined your hand in marriage-. As mocking as ever, he scoffed a laugh behind his cup.
-Not quite how the tale goes …-, Jason Lannister, as cocky as ever, sips from his honey wine, not speaking any longer, something that Aegon cheered with a long sigh- and a long sip from his cup.
With time passing fast thanks to innumerable games, toasts, dances and songs, the night came quickly and without fuss. They were blessed by a bright white moon and a very tender breeze that would caress their cheeks and kiss away the sweat on anyone’s forehead.
Clapping to the rhythm of chord and air instruments, Helaena sits on a rug inside the main camping tent of the trip. Sitting with her on the floor, the image of Queen Alicent clapping along Helaena and rocking her grandson, Jaehaerys, on her knee brought many hearts to warm, especially Ser Criston’s, whose brown eyes were rarely away from the redheaded queen.
Alicent’s happy spirit was not a coincidence; turns out that the same day her grandchildren turn half a year, is her gone mother’s, Alerie Florent, own nameday. Always trying to keep a smile on her lips on that day, on her mom’s regard, Queen Alicent let herself out from some royal duties, and agreed with herself when thinking of the idea of a hunt.
Ser Otto, to his misfortune, had to remain in the Red Keep, attending to The King’s health and duties.
While Alicent and her daughter play and sing with the celebrated children, everybody finds their own doing as well. Prince Aegon found great comfort in the dancing of some young ladies of court. Ser Erryk, his Sworn Protector, would constantly and discreetly step in the middle of his sight, so that he’d stop looking at them with such lusty eyes. Soon enough, the prince came to his senses, and went to play with his children too. After he arrived, Helaena went to bed.
The princess Daera had excused herself to go flying with her golden beast, and so there Kalistrox is, flying high in the skies. The Golden Ray does fly, indeed, but the princess lied: she’s not with him up there. Anyone who’d look up to the sky would believe so, though.
Instead, we can find the princess away from the camp and its noise. Under the shine of the stars and the moon, and on a blanket she threw on the ground, the princess makes her own noise.
Daera moans, throwing back her head and closing her eyes while feeling the most addictive harsh thrusts her husband is giving into her from below her. He himself moans as well, owner of her hips and back of her neck.
-Aemond!-, she names with a breathy voice, airless.
On that blanket, prince Aemond is naked and sweated. His patch is nowhere to be found, and his eye never leaves his wife’s beautiful and damp face. The prince moans, clenching his teeth and holding her waist tighter. He makes great pressure with his legs, thrusting into her with no stop, going up and down, up and down. Magnificent.
-Fuck-, the prince growls. His neck is red, and she held it with a strong grip, looking at him in the middle of her moans-. You are so good- did you know that, wife?-. He asks, groaning endlessly.
-Am I?-, she babbles. She rolls her eyes blank, feeling how he was hitting her sweet spot time after time. The princess laughs, silly, clutching her legs to the sides of his body.
-You fucking are, aye, dearest-. The one-eyed answered with passion, grasping her mane from behind, and starting to thrust even harsher into her. That only brought a bigger smile, and louder moans from his love. She nails her nails on his neck, bouncing on his strong cock-. I love when you- hells!-, he can’t help but smile, throwing his head back.
She had been riding him before, but now, even though she is still on top, is he the one who’s doing all the job, hitting her from below. They both adore it.
-You love it when I give Aegon what he fucking deserves, don’t you?-. Daera looks down with a breathy smile, staring at the multiple hickeys on his chest and abdominals. He groaned within a laugh, nodding-. No one toys with my fucking husband-. She whispered with hurry.
They are talking about no less than an unnecessary spectacle Aegon decided to play on his little brother, taunting him in front of the lords and ladies when pointing out a graceless thing; Alicent had mirrors placed on the bridle of Aemond’s horse, for she thought about how challenging it must be for him, a one-eyed, to ride. Their mother was just being good-hearted, even though she kens he knows how to ride. A little naive, our Queen Alicent, but she just wanted to help.
Instead, that “help” won Aemond endless jokes and taunts from his older brother, Aegon, who turned red and clapped his thighs with great amusement. Less and lesser laughed, but he clearly had his fun. Whilst his brother ignored every word, ashamed, and their sister glared at the older, on her way to join the younger, princess Daera watched in silence from her mount.
It was a purely coincidental that, when arriving to the Kingsroad, where the horses run faster, Aegon’s saddle malfunctioned and made him fall harshly from it, landing on his very face with a loud and pathetic yell of pain, begging for help. The march had to stop for him. Queen Alicent ran worriedly to her eldest, with Ser Criston quickly following.
And, while Aemond and some lords only stared while they got him up from the ground, The One-Eyed Prince caught the cocky and disinterested smirk The Rogue Princess was mounting her black mare with. Unfazed by the “accident”, her horse walked past the crying Aegon with not one look, and she just keep riding with no worries, soon side-eyeing him with that constant smirk.
Knowing everyone else was rather occupied either laughing or looking at Aegon, Prince Aemond smiled with a bright and burning gaze, wide-eyed, and nodded towards her while slowly licking his teeth, already planning how hard he was going to fuck her.
-Goddess-, Aemond sighs, opening his teary eye and looking at her with an opened mouth. He praises her with his gaze, fucking her good. She clenches her teeth, squealing sharply-. You- you always do what you want, do you not?-. He speaks in the middle of his moans, so proud of her, of her way of being and acting.
-Always-. Daera answered with a smile and a moan, harshly jumping all over his dick, making it twitch. They are both so close-. You should try it, is fun-. She winked a cocky eye, and he laughed with no breath, squeezing her waist every time tighter.
-I am, presently-. The prince speaks fastly and, within a second, he turned things around, and Daera ended laying on the blanket, and him above of her, owning her legs and hips. She gasps, barely taking it in-. Fucking you-, he whispered, and did not wait a single second to keep thrusting into her, now kissing her neck.
Princess Daera opened her mouth along a loud moan and a huge smile, scratching his red back with her sharp nails, and opening all of herself to him. Aemond growls like an animal on her ear, and fucks her like one too, yet so lovely and full of passion. She shrieks and cheers, holding his long white mane into a fist.
-Vezhvenari ( I love you )-. A primal and longing grunt came from Aemond’s chest. Daera moaned, closing her eyes, and feeling closer and closer-. Vezhvenari, rūbā, rūs ( I love you, wife, mine )-. He chants and claims her with a passionate High Valyrian, owning her in every way possible.
With that, both the princes came, with no restriction.
She let out a wild roar of pleasure that her husband interrupted with a wild kiss and moans from his own. They melted into their lips, holding each other tightly and in the middle of savage groans and declarations of love.
Their bonded bodies rolled out from the blanket, but they cared little, and quickly started to fuck again, with madlust and mud.
•••
The memories of that camp, more than half a year ago now, are presently wandering around princess Daera’s mind. They came to her, as swiftly as a blink, and have installed themselves in front of her eyes, almost touchable.
Before her, she sees Helaena sitting on the floor, laughing and playing with her children with the brightest smiles on their faces. No one else matters, only them. Slowly, Daera cocks her head to a side while looking at them, while remembering them. Her eyes glow, almost smiling to herself.
But then, when Aemond came to the scene, her soft eyes lost their shine. The princess clenches her fists under the water, recalling how she rode the One-Eyed Prince that night; she hears her own moans in her mind, echoing, along his, that pray to her and claim her as his.
Daera closes her eyes, shaking her head. When doing so, she saw Aemond’s colored moaning face looking up at her with a silly smile and a tear on his cheek, gasping. Instantly, she flinched, and opened her eyes again. The princess gulps, not fully understanding why she’s ashamed of that memory.
The memory of her, fucking a traitor.
That night she was in The Kingswood, under the tall trees and fresh breeze from King’s Landing. Tonight, while reminiscing it, she sits on a warm wooden bathtub that steams, that hugs and protects her naked body from the cold harsh breeze of the outsides of her room, for she now stays in nowhere else than The North, at Winterfell’s castle.
And not alone.
While the princess is lost on her thoughts, her prince husband is right by the other side of the partition that now divides the privy from the rest of the room. Jacaerys remains seated on the bed, now with his feet on the floor, and his elbows on his knees, while his chin rests on his tense knuckles.
Queen Rhaenyra’s oldest son is nothing but a man now, and it shows, for he can’t stop his constant glances to the washroom. His eyes are dark, and filled of curiosity and perhaps something more. Every time he hears the water slightly moving, or the princess’ voice humming, something inside him twitches, not only mentally.
He can’t help but think of many things at the same time; from what his wife and him did, back in King’s Landing, when she made him cum on his pants by moving and dancing above of him with a sensuality he never thought would be lucky enough to be witness of. But he was, and beyond! For then, a couple days later, he found himself kneeled in front of her, kissing her cunny and fingering her flower with lust and desire and sweat. It was marvelous; she was a marvel.
Hasn’t he always loved her deeply? Didn’t he wed her just for her own good, and that of his family? Yes, but as of late, it has been no longer a secret that he started to fall and fall the more for her with every day, smile and kiss. And afterwards, when he thought it meet to consider that it would always stay that way, his wife also shares this desire, and listened closely to his love confession on The Neck!
From a moment to another, Jace stood up from the bed, growing restless. He could not be quiet for one more second. Growling lowly, he starts to walk in circles, constantly clenching and biting his own fists. He does not see it himself, but he walks and stresses just like Daemon.
Images flashes in front of his mind; Daera all over him, kissing his lips and humping on his clothes, in her bedchambers in King’s Landing.
-Gods-, the young man lets out a whisper, closing his eyes.
Lying closely and together besides the fire they made in The Neck, she smiles to him with dearness and longing, caressing his mane.
-Um-, he shakes his head to himself, playing with his hands.
His brown hair harshly pulled by her shaky hands while he licks all of her core, from up to down and from side to side. “Good boy” she called him, having him moaning while eating her flesh and drinking her juices.
Jace clenches his fists, once again, and closes his eyes harshly while walking in circles. His heart beats fastly.
And let us not forget, the passion with which she kissed him outside the dining hall of Winterfell. She pulled his hair and pampered his lips with no shyness, allowing him to taste the wine on her tongue.
With this last memory, prince Jacaerys stops walking, and takes a deep breath in. With his arms hanging to the sides of his body, he tilted his head to a side, and stared at the noble partition with wide eyes of curiosity and calculation. Now, he looks much and more like his mother, Rhaenyra.
Helaena, Aemond, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera faded away from Daera’s memory when some knocks from the other side of the noble partition brought her out of her mind. Taking a deep breath in, she silently thanked it, for she was just about to lose herself even more in those memories that, now, so much hurt.
-Yes?-. She is quick to answer, raising her brows.
-I’m afraid I drank far too much brew, sister-. Jacaerys’ voice speaks from the other side with repentance. Daera starts to smile, burlesque-. Would you mind if…?-. Shyly, he ponders.
-But of course-. Within a second, she answered, turning her head to look forward.
Listening to his steps getting close, the princess blinks slowly, with a resting face that almost looks like she’s smirking. She feels a heat growing in her chest when she felt Jacaerys’ presence entering to the washroom; she hears his steps coming from behind.
-I won’t look-. The prince said and, true to his word, he came in with a hand covering the right side of his face, totally blocking the sight of the bathtub, and the princess in it.
Amused, Daera turned around with a laugh, and rested her chin on her arm. When turning around, though, she grew speechless when finding her husband coming in with firm steps, and no shirt on him. She parts her lips, surprised, looking at his clenched abdominals while he walks.
-I will-. Shameless, she said, slowly placing her chin on the tub’s wall, following him with her attentive purple eyes.
That mumble made the prince to smile. He chews his grin, proud, turning on a corner to find the chamber pot. Daera twisted her lips when she stopped seeing him but, from her position, she still catches a little peek of his back, which is slouched while he clearly grabs his…oh dear gods.
The princess bites her lips, slowly and almost unconsciously, looking at him from feet to toe from the distance. She listens to his urine falling on the pot. It ashamed deeply princess Daera to find the sound stimulating. She rolled her eyes to herself, looking away with a tsk.
After finishing his need, Jacaerys fastened his pants’ threads, licking his lips while trying to ignore that his cock is -in fact- half hard. Since Daera got in the bathtub, if you must know.
The prince approached to a bucket of water placed near the chamber pot. He washes his hands and, with all the discretion of the world, he slowly turns his head around, raising a brow, and taking a subtle peek towards the tub.
Daera stares at him with not a blink in the middle.
Jace flinches and immediately looks forward again, tsking with his teeth clenched and eyes wide opened. His cheeks quickly started to burn as hot as Vermax’s breath.
Not caring about his intrusion, she looks at him from her place, quietly. As he has his back turned to her, the princess delights herself with the free sight of him; his brown curls falling on his neck, nearly reaching some moles on his clenched naked back. His color is so kind to the view; he is white, aye, but there’s a sunkissed tone on him that the beaches of Dragonstone have gifted him.
The Rogue Princess cockily narrows her eyes, seeing how he was almost finished with washing his hands. After licking her lips, and blowing away any memory she was having before, she places her mind in the now.
-You must want to bath-. The princess speaks, softly and interested.
Prince Jacaerys blinks widely, looking at the wall in front of him. He may be unspoiled and unsullied, not very familiar with sexual touch, but our prince is no fool. This is the perfect example of what an olive branch is. And gods be damn, he loves olives.
Slowly and gracefully, he gave a twirl. It was his head the first to turn; with the brown eyes of a pup, he looked at her with care and confidence, maintaining a closed mouth. When his body turned too, he faced her fully, with no nerves anymore; he didn’t allow them to flourish.
-I can wait-. Forever a gentleman, he says, softly signaling to her bath. And, from it, she placed both her elbows on the railing, endlessly looking at him with parted lips and glossy eyes. He felt breathless when the gods blessed her with that sight; the wetness of her delicate arms.
-You don’t have to-. Daera shrugged, her voice funny and calmed. Jacaerys narrows his eyes, starting to smile, almost with no breath-. Enough space, I think-. She sided a smirk, taking her elbows down, and resting her back on the tub, pointing at the rest of it.
But, what to think of the gods for? He has one himself, in front of him. Inviting him to share a bath.
-Daera-. He subtly tilts his head, taking a slow step forward, feeling a heat traveling around all of his body; it even reached his lashes.
-We bathed together a couple times, in the shores of Driftmark-. The princess recalls with an amused tone, shrugging again while looking at her own nails.
-We were children-. Still approaching, he smiles, looking sideways and then back at her. He glances at her shoulders, brown and trained.
-Still siblings, yet-. The princess turns her head, and looks at him with a raised brow, cocking her head with obviousness. Jacaerys breathes in deeply, mentally yelling to his fucking self to stop voicing excuses!-. Are we not?-, she questions, smiling calmly.
-We are-. Within the second, he answered, halting his steps.
His hands reached the threads of his pants. When seeing this, Daera afflicted her throat, and stared with no pretending. To be honest, this brought the prince’s nerves out. He keeps fastening them, and plays his fingers around them, looking at her, and taking two steps forward.
The threads now hang from his pants; it only remains for him to pull them down to be completely naked. The prince gulps, and stares at his wife. This one, as silent as never, sides a smile to him, getting deep into his eyes, which look back at her with a subtle yearning. And, after a common blink, she turned her gaze away, covering the side of her face as he had done before.
-When you’re ready, my prince-. She funnily speaks, automatically making the air lighter.
Both their laughs filled the washroom. Jacaerys bites his lips, chuckling, and then pulls his pants down, walking out of them. When hearing the cloth falling on the floor, the princess took a deep breath, and bit her lips as the same as he keeps doing. Slowly and carefully, he starts to get into the bathtub.
-Careful…-. With a whisper, she spoke to him, ever looking at the partition.
-Uhm-. He nods, placing both his hands on the tub’s side to descend with slowness and caution-. Gods, it’s warm-. He briefly chuckles when the water started to get a hold of his legs and thighs, and manhood.
-Right?-. Endlessly smiling, his wife giggles too, feeling how a second body was joining her bath, making the water even warmer. Fuck.
-You can look at me-. Jacaerys speaks in the middle of a light cackle.
Rarely obedient, but definitely wanting to look, Daera drew her hand down, and turned her head forward. The image of Jacaerys’ clenched abdomen sinking into the warm water, and his stretched arms holding tightly to the sides of the tub, while he’s looking at her behind his brown curls, smiling and breathing nervously- will never leave her mind.
When the prince settled into the bathtub, their thighs and legs touched, now harshly skimming against the other under the tepid water. When feeling her soft skin touching his, Jacaerys sighed heavily through his nose; his eyes darkened, and wandered around all he could see of her, which was not that much.
-There you are-. The princess mumbles, amused, slowly blinking while looking at him with a confidence that makes him sigh like an enamored teen girl.
Her arms and shoulders are naked and to the air, indeed, but all the oils, bubbles and fancy soaps in the water make it impossible to see further than that. However, the sight is one he’ll forever be thankful for; the proximity, surely, too.
-Here I am-. Kindly, he smiles with his brows raised and jaw clenched. Daera laughs a little, glancing at the waters and- damn it, not catching a single glance of what lays in the middle of his legs, down there in the water.
At the same time, they grow quiet, and stare at each other’s eyes. There’s something captivating in them, an intensity and a form of desire that makes the candlelight from around to take a second place, if we were to make a list of what shines the most in the chambers of Lord Cregan’s royal guests.
Briefly smiling, the prince looks down, eyeing the water and the bubbles. He chuckles a little, and lightly moves his legs, making them to bounce a little. Felling all of his manly hair skimming her soft thighs and knees, the princess breathed in deeply, slowly cocking her head while looking at him.
-This is nice-. He, then, mumbles. When he looks up again, he finds a curious expression on his wife’s face-. Being this far away from home…on the comforts of this warm bath…-, the brown-haired clarifies, his tiny grin haven’t faded away.
-Um-. She nods, now understanding-. Almost feels like we are not at war, doesn’t it?-. The princess smiles, somewhat in a fake way, resting her elbows on the tub's sides.
-We are not at war, Daera-. His soft mannered voice is quick to correct her.
-But we are-. Hers, as rogue as always, did too. Pressing his lips, he sighs through his nose, staring at her for some silent seconds.
-Um-, his head started to nod, gaining narrowed interested eyes from her-. Yes, we are-. With little of a problem, he agreed with her. Sighing, the princess' faces dyes almost with pity and tiredness, though a smile remains on her lips-. Mother has seemed rather...-, sinking his arms into the water, he searches for the proper words-...thoughtful, as to our next actions-. Jacaerys declared, sighing himself too.
Daera raises her brows and a "o" forms in her mouth while she starts to tilt her head from side to side, curious.
-Nights ago, you told me 'bout avoiding bloodshed-. She pointed with obviousness, which made the prince to tsk lightly, staring at the steaming water that hugs them both-. Is your mind changing, brother?-. The princess ponders, briefly taking a glance towards his marked clavicle.
-I do not thirst for blood, much less that of my kin, but...-. Jace clarifies, shaking his head and, looking sideways to the candles, he takes a deep breath in. Daera clenches her jaw, thinking of Aegon The Usurper, and how gladly she'd make him bleed-...so much would have been avoided, I confess, had we taken faster and harder action regarding the Green's doings-. He came to confess with great honesty.
Daera's eyes immediately shined, and she quickly raised her brows.
-Jace, I know!-. She speaks with nothing but agreement, nodding excitedly under his brown attentive gaze-. We...we betrothed Joffrey!-. The more hurtful of examples came out from her mouth, with a shocked and pained voice. Jace's lips trembled when hearing it-. Our little brother, sold like a goat!-. She laughs with no grace, resting her back in the tub.
-It was humbling!-. The prince hisses, nodding while looking at her. His wife made a tsk, scratching her forehead as her father does too-. To not say humiliating-. He adds in a low mumble voice, as if it was a curse he spoke.
-Lady Jeyne Arryn had you to lick her cunt-. Daera stresses with a harsh tone, opening her eyes widely. Maintaining a straight face, Jace couldn't avoid recalling how she herself taught her how to do that-. And, somehow, I fucking let it happen-. Bemused with her own person, she mumbles, looking away and shaking her head-. I should have taken her head...-, she suddenly ideated.
-Daera-, he quickly tries to bring her to her senses.
-And her cunny!-. She declared with no shame and a stiff lip, causing the prince to make a pout, almost reproachful-like, while looking at her in silence with raised brows-. Only saying-. The princess snorts, shrugging.
-I do understand your frustration; I share it, naturally-. The prince sides with her, lightly clenching his fists under the water-. "Dragons to the Vale", as if we had dragonriders to spare and share-. He can't buck scoff, rolling his eyes blank.
-Exactly!-. She wildly puts a hand out of the water to point at him-. I'll see Baela for the task, but we need her in Dragonstone-. Daera raises her brows, tapping a finger against the tub's wall. He closely listens, nodding.
Until, suddenly, he stops.
-Joff-. Curious, he named their little brother.
-What?-. Daera knits her brows, attentive.
-The Vale asked for a dragonrider, though no size was requested, was it?-. The prince opens a hand, waiting for an answer. Daera's eyes instantly shine, getting his point-. We can send Joff-, he stresses.
-With Tyraxes-. Daera whispers, and her husband starts to nod and to smile, vividly-. He'll be safe there!-. The relief of her voice had no comparison when realizing that her little brother would be well apart from the war-. And Baela stays in Dragonstone-, she smiles.
-Moondancer is swift, and knows her commands very well-. Jace raised his brows, proudly. Daera lets a cackle out, staring at him with bright eyes-. She shall stay-, he decided.
-They shall-. His wife agreed, smirking-. Very good-. She quickly nods, eyeing him deeper and slower than before. He nods to a side, sucking his cheeks from the inside before her intense look.
After taking a breath in, Daera looks down, her factions softening. Silent and curious, Jacaerys stares at her with parted lips, wondering what her thoughts are, and what her coming words may be.
The princess looks at the water, but she sees Jace forced to bring Lady Cunt Arryn to her fucking climax with his tongue, she sees the Whore of the Vale all entitled, asking for dragonriders of her own, she sees Lord Manderly agreeing to raise his banners for them only after offering Joffrey’s hand in marriage to his daughter, she sees the crannogmen of The Neck mocking her and trying to steal from her with no shame. Restless, the princess begins to shake her head, bemused.
-You see, that’s what it maddens me-. She suddenly whispers, looking up again with wide eyes. He listens closely, his brows a little furrowed-. We are House Targaryen-. Forever proud, she declared with a stiff lip-. And our House does not deserve to be treated as it lately has been: mocked-. She raises her brows, drifting a little in the water, making it hotter with the rage in her words-. Taken as fools, as servants, as pleasers!-. Daera smiles widely, though there’s no grace in her face, or in that of her husband’s, who spoke after her.
-I cannot disagree with your sentiment, wife-. He softly murmured, staring at her purple desperate eyes-. They ask for bestowals and marriages in exchange for something that they must give by tradition and by law!-. Jace heartly points out, opening his eyes bigly. His wife snaps her fingers and points at him, clenching her lips.
-We may be the House of The Dragon, but we’re toothless…or so it seems-. Daera snorted with a wary voice, looking around, and soon rolling her eyes blank-. Did you see what I did, to those people on The Neck?-. She asks from a moment to another, interested.
-I clearly did-. Jacaerys instantly nods, sighing when recalling the image of her standing over a rock, all covered in stranger blood while holding hands with the upper half body of a corpse; all while looking at him, and casually telling him that she found supper for their dragons.
-They felt entitled, and they got what they deserved-. Daera rises her brows to the top of her head, assuring. That’s when the prince looks down in the middle of a sigh, and started to shake his head from side to side-. Jacaerys-, she names him with warning, not wanting him to disagree with her.
-Your purpose is certain but the method was overdone, Daera-. With softness and a slight scolding, he looked directly into her proud purple eyes, which smirked with sarcasm.
-I took hands on the matter, and look what happened-. She points to her left and right, smiling at him. He cocks his head-. They will never be a problem again-. Within a second, she erased her pretended happiness, and snorted with cockiness and superiority.
-But oft and sooner than later you will find yourself with that kind of person again; what will you do then? Kill them too?-. The prince asks while shrugging, curious.
-It has worked so far-. Daera whispers with no repentance, shrugging the same as him.
-We can’t kill them all-. The prince says with simplicity.
-All the bad, yes, we can-. The princess dared, shaking her head. Her husband sides a small reproachful smile, blinkless while staring at her, who soon sighed through her nose-. Do not paint me as a beast, Jace, I know too to forgive and hope for the better. They call me the Princess of Flea Bottom, oy? It’s not been all festivals and smiles; I know my battles with them-. She raised her chin, prideful and honest, making him to smirk a little-… But it is a hard task, sometimes-. She confessed, lightly playing with her fingers under the water.
-What is?-, he questions.
-To trust they’ll do no longer ill-. Princess Daera answered-. People-, she names.
Aemond comes to her mind, and her mind called her a hypocrite, making her to remember all the countless times that she trusted the One-Eyed Prince with that hope of him never doing anything bad to her. So long as to the moment we speak, alas, he has usurped her family’s throne, stolen their birthright, and caused the stillbirth of her baby sister, Visenya.
The Rogue Princess feels a pain on her chest. She takes a breath, looking at her husband, who so closely listens to her, looking like he gets her words and feelings. Oh, he has no idea.
-Hadn’t it been for trust and hope, Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters would have not made it to the history books-. Prince Jacaerys whispered, pretending to accidentally linger a finger on a leg of her. Daera’s face softens when he speaks, and her eyes blinked slowly while looking at them, taking his words in-. Nor would have King Jaehaerys ordered the Great Council that made my grandsire King of The Seven Kingdoms-. He lifts up his brows and chin.
They smile tinyly, staring deeply at each other with a light glim of sadness in their eyes when thinking of Viserys; passed now. Daera’s cheeks begin to come up while looking at him.
-It’s no easy thing, dear wife, to trust-. The brown-haired prince whispers, briefly narrowing his eyes. This dear wife of him stares at him with no blink in the middle-. The path is yet uncertain but the outcome is one where we win-. He slowly nods, lingering again that finger against her legs. She blinks softly, tilting her head to a side-…We must trust-, he declared.
Daera’s eyes, which before were raging and holding curses, now are soft like snow, looking at him with a growing smile, and a sigh from her nose.
-I guess you are right, my King-. She had the guts to call him, curling up her lips, and giving a most playful grip to one of his knees. The prince flinches, and instantly smiles hugely at her, not believing that he was just called “King”, nor that her hands are so warm-. I could learn some things from you-. Cockily, she moves her shoulders.
-Ah-. Jace smiles, looking down-. It is me, in fact, who could learn a lot from you, good wife-. He pointed out, raising his brows and pointing at her with his chin-. She who everything solves-. Flattering, the prince smirks at her.
-I do not know everything, Jace, I just pretend that I do-. Daera funnily said with a playful voice, showing her teeth within a laugh. Jacaerys kept smiling, but did not take her jest as truth.
-Says the best dragonrider I’ve known-. The prince mumbles while discreetly rolling his eyes, glancing away. Daera parts her lips and, inevitably, gets surprised, very flattered by such high esteem. Her heart gets warmer when thinking of her dear Kalistrox, who’s grunting to the snow as we speak.
Under the tepid water, their legs touch more than before, slowly becoming more near to each other. The prince gulped and looked down to the tub, whilst the princess looked up and perched him with her discreet yet undressing eyes, which he soon met with his own. Jacaerys stiffens his shoulders, but starts to smile calmly when staring at her.
Daera sucks her right cheek to the inside, pursing her humid lips.
-You were right, before-. Jace suddenly commented, eyeing the water once again-. One feels at ease, in here-. He agrees, nodding when looking at her again. He finds dark eyes, and an almost prideful smirk-. The fact that Lord Cregan knows nothing of the usurpation, perhaps make sit a lot…easier-. He confessed in a sigh.
-Perhaps-. She nodded to a side, sighing too-. But tomorrow he shall know and, after we gain the support of The North, we fly home-. Daera planned. After doing so, she scrunches her lips and starts to shake her head with a bemused expression-. Perhaps this is our last night feeling this peace-. She shrugged with doubt but honesty.
And, while speaking, Princess Daera moved her legs, and placed them to the sides of Jacaerys’ body, making his legs to be in the middle of hers. He gasped, and parted his lips. She pressed her heels against his strong thighs, basically trapping him in the middle of her legs.
His body tenses, and he blinks slowly, feeling the warmth her legs have trapped him into; he loves it. Unhurried, he lifted his brown eyes at her, finding amusement and desire in hers. You can bet whatever in the Seven Kingdoms you want, that his are shining exactly the same.
The brown-haired dared to make a move too and, with no shyness, he slouched his back a little, placed his open hands on her legs, and wandered them up until reaching the thickness of her thighs, gripping them lightly- but slowly, and with passion and dedication. He caresses from up to down, whispering her name.
A harsh sigh escaped the princess’ lips, and within a second, we find her doing the very same with him. She slouched too, and claimed his legs with her delicate hands. She feels his strong muscles, his hair all around the place, how tense he is. When the purple-eyed reached the upper part of his thighs, almost reaching his behind, she digged her nails in his skin.
And when that pleasantly burned, he moaned.
-If this is indeed our last night feeling like this…-, the prince whispers under his breath, wandering his gaze around all of her beautiful face-…I don’t want it to ever end….-, he confessed a heartful wish, with the eyes of a begging pup.
Princess Daera sighs to herself, lightly moving her head while staring at him. She is besotted, marveled with his purity, his sanity, his true and honest desire he can no longer hide when they do so little as to simple look at each other. Lust and love are lingering on his brown eyes. Other eyes have looked at her before exactly like this, but these…they are entirely good; they cannot hurt her.
To herself, she wonders if Ser Harwin Strong was ever this handsome, this kind looking, this perfect flourishment of both kindness and yearning. If indeed he ever was, Daera does not blame her step-mother Rhaenyra at all. At fucking all.
-The curls suit you so well-. She whispered, from a moment to another, slowly starting to lean back, wandering her hands on his legs.
-Thank you, princess-. With a silly sided smile, and loving eyes, he murmured with dearness.
Daera leaned her back on the tub’s wall, placing her arms to the sides of it, relaxed. Jace blinks slowly, staring at her. And afterwards, whilst taking a deep breath in, the princess made her chest to come out from the water. Perfection itself.
Her breasts showed with no shame; thin and numerous waterdrops running down their circumference, rolling down on those perfect brown nipples. Them breasts stand so firmly with no effort; they shine and they are beautiful. They took all air out of prince Jacaerys’ lungs.
-In case this is indeed the last one, I do not want that the only bosom you ever remember is that of your mother’s-. The princess cockily smiled, lightly tilting her head while staring at him.
Jace is mouth-opened, flabbergasted, staring at them with no end. His own chest starts to come up and down, his breathing became heavy and his eyes even darker, as if that was even possible. He gasps, lowly, mouthing a word, but saying none. He is enchanted, definitely.
-I reckon you wanted to see them, did you not?-. She ponders in a low voice. She caresses her own tits, lightly grabbing and squeezing them with her fingers. The prince clenches his jaw, staring at that, and then at her eyes, with no breath-. Your eyes had been all over me, I could only presume-. She shrugged, faking so much innocence.
The prince places his hands to the sides of the tub, grabbing them with force and tense fingers, forever looking at her. His chest comes up and down, as well as his eyes, from her breasts to her enchanting gaze.
-Perhaps you…want to touch them, too?-. Daera questions, briefly narrowing her eyes.
Jace takes impulse, but quickly backed down, biting his lips. The water of the tub moves with a little harshness due to his sudden move. He clenches his fingers around the tub’s sides, and presses his jaw with force. Looking at him with no reaction, Daera blinks, and sides a smile.
The water moved again, harsher this time, when the princess took impulse and, within a second, stood up mighty and firmly, looking down at him. And, from down, Jacaerys shining gaze and open mouth admired the naked and dripping body of the goddess that stands before him, with power and pointy nipples and a bare round ass.
-Daera-, he named, breathless.
Daera reached for his hands, taking them with hers, and then placing them to the sides of her body. When feeling her hips burning against his mortal skin, the prince groaned, furrowing his brows, and he himself squeezed her waist and her hips, marveled. Under the water, his erection starts to come beck to its full power, and what a power.
Silly and lustful, the prince takes the liberty to follow her hands, which guide him through her skin. He caresses her thighs, her inner thighs, her waist and abdomen, almost reaching to her breasts, touching the base of them. He sighs and moans, narrowing his eyes when feeling how soft everything is.
The princess, barely blinking, thinks of Aemond. Her mind barked and scolded her. “No time to think of the fucker, of the betrayer, of the oath-breaker, the turn cloak, the traitor”. Daera starts to breath fast, looking down at his puppy eyes, his open mouth. “No time to think of the husband who stole your family’s throne and killed your sister”. He bites his lips, looking up her. “Time to think of the husband whose worst deed has been loving you while you neglected him”.
-If this is the last, Daera, would you spare me the mock….-. Jacaerys’ eyes look at her as a Septon would stare at The Seven-…and considerate granting me a favor?-. He asks in a whisper, caressing her waist.
With parted lips and a fast breath, Daera goes back to her thoughts in The Vale, after he made her come with his mouth. There’s a conclusion to them; she did not do it because it’s on her nature, because she’s a whore who runs from one man to another, or whatever bullshit. No. She did it because she deserved it. And so does Aemond, the gods curse him.
The princess hums, and lowers her height, taking his hands with her. Easily, and as light as a feather, Daera ended up seated on Jace’s lap, finding great comfort on his naked thighs and abdomen, clutching herself to them. They both moan, he with an enamored smile and shiny eyes, tightly holding her waist to accommodate her on him.
Daera groans and closes only an eye for a second when clearly feeling his member under her; it’s trapped between her abdomen and his, strong and hulk, fucking warmer than the candles themselves. She opens her mouth, and harshly grabs his neck from behind with both her hands.
-Tell me your wish, husband-. Her silky voice spoke over his lips and nose, sending him a fresh breeze of lavender and wine. He hums and bites his lips, grabbing her waist tighter than before when looking up at her glossy eyes.
-I want to be yours…-. He, then, confessed, mouth-opened and hopeful.
In that moment, she couldn’t help but to bite her lips strongly, taking a deep breath in and curving her brows to the top of her head, never looking away from him and his pleading lusty gaze.
-Oh, Jace-. She caresses his curly hair, losing her nails on his scalp, which made him to moan a sigh, and to grab her hips even tighter than before-…You are already mine-. Daera declared, heading down one of her hands.
That hand arrived to the middle of them and, with no further ado, it grabbed his pulsing strong cock. When feeling so, the poor prince lost all sense but pleasure; he moaned like an animal and melted right in the tub, rolling his eyes blank and opening his mouth in a breathless smile.
-Did you not know you are already mine, prince?-. Tauntly, she mumbles, wrapping her five fingers around his length, softly stroking it while her other hand remained pulling his hair, and her lips traveled to his neck. He thinly groans-. Aren’t you proud of it?-. She teases. His sensible neck.
-I am-, a breeze of a breath answered for him.
Jace melts even more, rolling his eyes blank when feeling- at the same time! the kisses on his neck, the pulling on his hair, and the strokes on his cock. He gasps, time after time, and he moans, stroking himself her small waist, marking all of his fingers on it. She is a goddess as it has never been before.
Daera, instead of pulling this time, pushed his hair, and that made his face to end right between her breasts; just as she wanted it. Jacaerys sighed trembly and didn’t even have to wait for a command. He knew he wanted to do it, and he knew he had her permission so, no wasting a single second, he opened his mouth wider, and cupped a whole tit of her into it.
The princess shrieked with pleasure, holding both sides of his head when feeling how he started to desperately eat both her breasts, getting them more wet than the water ever did.
-Jace-, she breathed his name, allowing herself to close her eyes and throw her head back.
Jace hugged her tightly to her, and he grunted, he grunted and furrowed his brows while he gladly buried himself in the breasts of the princess, both licking and grabbing them with no taste for stopping. He loves this new feeling, that of them on his mouth, on his hands, on his everything. He moans, yet again, caressing her back with his big hands, and endlessly licking her left nipple.
She cursed in the middle of a sigh, smiling and, from a moment to another, pulling him away from her breasts. With his mouth wet and his hair all disheveled, he looks at her with praise and extreme gratitude, mentally praying to her.
They kiss. It only took two seconds staring at each other for them to desperately melt their mouth against the other’s. He holds her face, and she cup his, both of them sighing and groaning while feeling their tender lips. Daera moans, getting apart, and whispering over his.
-Do you desire me?-. She asked, and he nodded, placing his hands back in her back, now lower than before; he wishes to meet her ass.
-Yes, so much-. The young man nearly whines, curving his brows and staring at her breasts and then at her eyes-. I lust for you, Daera, I burn for you-. He sobbed and sighed, closing his eyes.
-Do you want to do this, young prince?-. She caresses his hair, breathing over his nose, and then placing tender kisses on it. He tsks his tongue and clutches his fingers to her waist, drawing her even closer.
-I do-, he whispered, resting her forehead against hers. She feels his hands wandering around her behind, making it obvious how bad he wanted to grab it-. Take me, and let me take you-. Jacaerys mumbles, and shrieks lowly when feeling her abdomen pressing itself against his manhood, on purpose-. Oh, gods, please-. The boy pleads with a face of pain, tilting his head.
Daera bits her lips, inevitably moaning, for she had never seen someone so eager to do it, and that says a lot. He looks like he’s almost in physical dolor, begging for her touch and answer, praying for her love and kisses.
-Fuck, Jace-. She sighs, nearing her face even more to his. Almost shy, he gives her a quick kiss, tasting her lips-. Fuck-. She repeats, and he kisses her again, now slower-. Jace, I am going to fuck you so hard-. The princess whines, curving her brows, completely honest.
And he cheered with a broken moan, for that was all that he ever wanted.
Not holding himself anymore, he grabbed both sides of her face, and granted her a sudden and wild kiss, eagerly moving his lips on hers. Daera answers with the same ferocity, furrowing her brows and moving on top of him, pressing her teats against his chest.
And, speaking of them, it was only a matter of time before Prince Jacaerys came back to crazily kiss those blessed breasts, covering them with his kisses, saliva, hands and sighs. Daera smiles and keeps grabbing his curly brown hair, playing with it. He kisses and pampers the nipples and the flesh, not having enough of them.
Daera feels how he is more than hard already. His cock is strong and stiff, poking on her lower belly as some kind of weapon; its head is so round and yet pointy, boiling, touching her with warmth and desire. She groans and bits her lips, shaking her head all of a sudden.
The prince’s mouth is almost left in the air, for the princess stood up from a moment to another, standing again in front of him. The renewed sight made Jacaerys to sigh and to smile like a silly man. His hair is still possessed by one of her hands, which suddenly pushed him.
Jace saw the Seven Heavens when she pushed him towards her womanhood. Hungry por it, he places his hands on her thighs, and grants one quick kiss to her mount. He moans, shakily, closing his eyes, and instantly places another kiss, now one closer to her lips. With trembling hands, he sticked out his tongue, and licked in there. The princess hummed a moaned, but remained firm.
-Gods-, he whispered, fascinated.
He planned to lick again, now further and deeper and slower, but princess Daera had other plans, for she suddenly let go of his hair and, with graceful moves, stepped out of the bathtub.
Jace quickly turns his head, not losing her out of sight. The floor gets wet with all the water that her body and hair are dripping, but none care even a little. He bites his lips, and stares at her with eyes that shine more than fire itself. They stare at each other with so much lust; desire and passion own their bodies right now.
-Let me see you-. The white-haired princess asked, with a low but still voice, blinkless.
The Jacaerys that stepped shyly into the tub before, who kindly asked her to look away while he got himself undressed, was now gone. Now, more confident than ever, and with a big reason in the middle of his legs of why he’s no ashamed to show himself, Jacaerys starts to stand on his feet, rising his body with firmness.
Besides being one and a half head taller than his wife, the wooden bathtub is also tall. So, when he stood, and she looks, she had to raise her head, and to glance up with parted lips, and wide eyes of tremendous marvel, bemused.
From feet to toe, Prince Jacaerys is a piece of art itself. Waterdrops have the joy and luck of touching his skin while running down it. He is tall, he is strong, his abdomen is clenched as well as his legs and arms. His brown curls give him a touch of sweet, but his face speaks the manliest of words. He’s gorgeous. And in the middle of his legs…a greater marvel. ‘Tis big, it really is, but it’s perfect. And she was right; she was right since the first time she felt her underneath her.
It’s bigger than Aemond’s.
-Holy fucks-, Daera whispered.
This is not -of course- her first time seeing a naked man, neither the second, nor the third. Not even the sixth.
But, as we turn to Jacaerys, we can see he is in pure awe, stroked by the beauty standing in front of him. Her body is made by the very gods, he is sure. Those curves, that color, the way her skin shines, the way her nipples stand and the way her womanhood is so softly at sight, making him to want to go and kiss it.
This is the first time our Jace sees a naked woman, and gods be good, it is better than he could have ever imagined.
Starting to smile, Daera approaches to the tub, and he smiled too, looking at her.
-Come-. Playfully, she offers him a hand. With no doubt, he takes it, and begins to carefully step out of the tub-. Good?-, she watches his step.
-Good-. He answered in a whisper, looking down while he comes out. Soon, his bare feet ended on the cold floor.
Standing in front of him, with her smaller height, she looks at him with a pressed smile. Jacaerys keeps looking at the floor for two seconds more, and then he lets out a laugh and, within a second, raised his eyes and hands again, quickly cupping her head, and melting himself onto a kiss.
Daera sighs through her nose and laughs too, grabbing his arms and tenderly squeezing them, loving their thickness and strength. He hums with eyes closed, and places both his hands on her white hair, carefully and lovingly caressing it.
-Come with me-. In the middle of a kiss, she mumbles, and then kisses him again. Slowly and cautious, they start to walk at the same pace, him caressing his hair, and she caressing his arms-. Follow me-, she asks.
-Wherever-. In a quick whisper, he said, and then kissed her again. Daera laughs, curving her brows, and going to caress his thighs and hips, something he thanked with a moan from deep his throat.
When he less expected it, the prominent heat of the fireplace hit him once again. When they separated their lips to take air, he realized they were back in the bedroom, having left the washroom behind them, as well as printed foots of their wet feet on their way.
-Oh, gods-. He sighs with great pleasure, looking down at her with silky eyes and parted lips, soon biting them. Daera bites hers as yours, slowly caressing his waist, as if pondering what she is to do next. Oh, she surely knows.
-I think you’ll rather sit on this part-. The princess advices, softly placing her hands on his chest. Still smiling silly, he narrows his eyes with curiosity, taking slow steps backward when she started to walk forward-. I do not think you can take it standing-. She appeared to make a jest, smiling.
-Take what?-, the prince mumbles with interest, caressing her hair.
From a moment to another, she pushed him, and he suddenly ended up seating at the feet of the bed, wide-eye opened. The prince sees her smiling. And not a second after, she starts to get on her knees, right in the floor.
-Daera, you’ll hurt yourself-. Confused, he is quick to pull her hands.
The princess stops, looking up at him in the middle of her way. She thinks of all the times she kneeled on the floor, on rock, on the secret passageways, on sand, when giving pleasure to Aemond. He had never said that to her. For a moment, she felt disgusted when remembering so. And when thinking those away, and concentrating in Jacaerys, she felt thankful.
With a melted heart, she keeps on kneeling, while a cocky smile grows in her face.
-Oh, prince, I think it’s worth it-. She funnily mumbles, completely kneeling on the floor. Leg-opened, Jace gulps, and eyes her from up to down multiple times-. I think you’ll soon agree with me-. An amused whisper left her lips, and then she licked them.
-Daera-. His chest comes up and down, seeing how her eyes glance at his cock with a smile and her tongue out. She places her hands on his knees, opening his legs wider, and then caressing his hips and thighs-. Daera, Daera-. He quickly names, breathing even faster when she leaned front.
From the washroom, we can see how the princess bent her neck down, and then the prince threw his head back.
Jacaerys moaned loudly, not keeping any sound to himself when he felt his wife’s mouth suddenly wrapping his warm cock in the middle of a cocky laugh. The prince groans and whines, his chest coming up and down and his eyes rolling blank. He’s almost frozen, stiffed by the great amount of pleasure he is handling.
-Gods!-. He says with no breath. Daera hums lowly, tasting his hot skin and boiling precum. She scratches his thighs, loving the feeling of his cock’s head poking on the ceiling of her mouth, for it is so damn big. This is a challenge she is facing; the challenge of hiding it all in her mouth-. Hells, oh-! Daera!-, he chants her name.
Jacaerys twists on the bed. She guided one of his hands to his hair, and so he placed it there, caressing her white strands and curling his fingers into it while he blinks and wheezes and twitches with no end, enslaved by her tongue licking on his head, her cheeks sucking his sides, and her hand playing and pampering his two balls.
-Heavens, oh dear gods-. The prince moans with no end, taking his other hand to her head, and now holding the sides of it. The princess hummed, proud of this, and for that she spat on his cock’s head, and spread it with her tongue from up to down-. Seven Hells, Daera-. He speaks with no voice, nearly beginning to smile, for it feels so good.
Daera moves her head, tongue, cheeks and hand with passion and no break, not allowing the prince to take a single breath of air, neither herself. So, breathless, she sucks his dick while feeling how wet it is, and how wet she is getting as well, just by hearing his endless moans and expressions.
In one moment, when she spat on the base of his cock, and scattered all around the length with both her hands and her mouth, Jacaerys came to do what he rarely does.
-Fu…!-. A flinch cuts his words. Getting surprised, but not stopping, Daera hums on his dick, and wraps her hand around it even tighter. He slashes a hand on the bed, squeezing the bedsheets under him. She sucked her cheeks deeply, and licked his point with no stop-. Fuck!-. And then, Jacaerys cursed his mouth out.
She grunted with all the happiness of the world, starting to work him ever harder. Jacaerys moans loudly, harshly closing his eyes and starting to spread a wide smile all over his face while his chest comes up and down.
-Yes, yes-. He breathes fastly, throwing his head back, and caressing hers-. Yes, please-. He smiles to the ceiling, slaved of pleasure, Daera’s warm mouth, and her expert moves on him.
•••
The Hour of The Owl brings silence and quietness to The Red Keep, where the servants, cooks, maids, maesters and crew already are asleep, just as the royal family is too. Rather, they’re supposed to.
But, as we happen to encounter upon, Prince Aemond wanders around the hallways of the castle with steps that were both firm and, contradictorily, wary and slow. His arms are crossed behind his back, which is clenched and straight; his posture is impeccable, as it always is. However, his face is dry; the prince hungers, and is sleepy, constantly keeping his eye closed when blinking.
The prince is just returning to the castle, for his entire day he spent it in the skies, patrolling with Vhagar, flying and flying above The Red Keep and all of Flea Bottom, from the Street of Silk to the Street of Steel. Both the hills of Rhaenys -where the Dragonpit stands- and Visenya -where the Great Sept of Baelor finds home- saw the prince multiple times in the day, soaring in the clouds above.
Cautious and ever-silent, the One-Eyed Prince looked to his left, the One-Eyed Prince looked to his right, looking for either Meleys, Caraxes and, to his heart’s sorrow, Kalistrox. Thank the Seven, none appeared today, and so the green dragon Vhagar flew alone, and dully.
When he gets to Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond walks slower, finding that he was already near to the chambers he’ll sleep in; not his, but Daera’s. He’s not enjoying very much comfort in his chambers of late. In his wife’s, sleeps find him more easily, especially because he hugs the abandoned black coat of hers to his chest when trying to rest. But, due to “appearance” matters, he cannot be seen entering Daera’s chambers as if it was totally normal. For this, he uses the secret passageways of the Keep.
Normally, he would have gone to his own rooms to gain access to Maegor’s Tunnels but, when eyeing to his right, the prince grew confused when he found the doors of his sister’s bedchambers completely opened. He immediately changed his path, quickly heading there.
-Helaena?-. With hurry, he calls, quickly walking into the room.
The first thing he looks for are the children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera fondly sleep on their cradles, hugging their stuffed toys. Sighing through his nose, Aemond blinks and looks around the bedroom. The bed is empty, as well as the washroom and the divans. The balcony, however, is where he found Queen Helaena, firmly standing.
The queen’s little brother sighed again, now closing the doors, and locking them. He walks past the cradles, gifting light caresses to the twins’ heads, and then he heads towards the balcony.
-Sister-, the one-eyed called with softness and curiosity-. What are you doing here?-. He questions, receiving the night’s cold breeze when stepping out.
Helaena, with a softened expression and thoughtful eyes, stares at the city below them. She rarely blinks, playing with her fingers over her belly, and licking her lips when feeling them too dry. Slowly approaching, Aemond gulps, remembering the tense moment they had before, in the library, when she seemed to be…scared of him.
-I am sorry for what transpired earlier, in the library-. The prince speaks with softness as his voice, almost ashamed. His sister listens with parted lips, looking up to the clouds now-. I do not want us to…become estranged-. He mumbles, staring at her with eyes that, with every second passing, get fuller of emotion; sadness, and the yearning of compression-…after what happened…-, he said.
The Queen blinks, closing her lips, and slowly turning her head to look at him. Her clear eyes watch him with seriousness and what clearly is disappointment. How is it so easy for him to ask for no different treatment after having killed Luke, she ponders, as if it’s not going to cost us misery and doom.
-Helaena, is freezing-. Aemond suddenly complains, furrowing his brows, and wanting for her to say anything, even if it’s about the weather.
-Cold is remedied-. She said in a simple mumble, lightly shrugging. He narrows his eye, briefly tilting his head.
-Very well-. The prince whispers, nodding even though he didn’t understand her meaning. He sighs through her nose, still having the purple eyes of the Queen on him, in pure silence-. I…I will explain to her how everything happened-. Suddenly, he starts to mumble his plan, which made her to furrow her brows slightly, looking at the floor-. If- if I explain it well to her, she might understand how the things that happened, happened, and see that it was nothing but a…regrettable accident-. He looks down, forcing himself to not recall the joy that killing Lucerys brings him.
This time, Helaena definitely furrows her brows, turning to him a little more, though her body still faces forward. Aemond gulps, taking air in, and rising his look again.
-I know she is angry-. The prince nods, and his sister tilted her head-. And she has every right to be, I know, but if-
-Daera does not know yet-. Helaena interrupted him with a tired and heavy tone, now looking away. Her brother immediately blinks quickly, growing confused.
-How…?-, the prince stretches his head forward, loosen it-. How do you know?-. He quickly looks around and, just as it happened back in the library when his nephew mentioned “Daera”, the one-eyed imagines that his wife is around somewhere near, hidden and staring at them from the dark.
Helaena, shaking her head, lets him know it is not the case at all.
-A cloud of glum would be casted over King’s Landing if she already knew-. The Queen answers with a soft voice, wandering her eyes around her brother’s face, which scrunches with sadness and confusion-. You would feel her eyes on your nape, and…and her nails in your chest-. Helaena whispered, ever so calmly, barely blinking.
-I already feel it-, he weakly whispered with a string of voice, furrowing his brows.
-‘Tis not her glare the one you’ll feel first-. His sister corrected; Aemond knew she talks about all the eyes that cross the Blackwater Way whole, from Dragonstone. Rhaenyra’s, Daemon’s, Baela’s, everyone’s. All of The Blacks look at him from the distance and are making a hole on his neck-. But the most rabid-. She, then, adds.
The One-Eyed Prince’s lips came to twist down, bothered and unquiet. He gulps, fighting the tears that wanted to reach his purple gaze. He feels heavy and dark. What marvels him the most it’s that is not his doing the one that haunts him -having killed Luke-, but what has come afterwards; the fear, coldness and disliking he has gained from everyone. His mother, his sister.
I want mom; he thinks. He feels bad.
-I deeply lament…the feelings Daera may conjure-. A thin and shamed whisper comes out from the prince’s mouth. The Queen blinks hugely, looking at him with brows that started to get furrowed-. I miss her, horribly, and I want to tell her everything-. He blinks with sorrow, looking down at his dark black boots-…She must be destroyed…-. With all the sadness of the world, he mumbled, possessor of a painful lump in his throat.
-Destiny brings odds outcomes, no matter how painful the path-. The purple-eyed woman says her words with firmness that shook the prince’s chest-. Perhaps my cousin is realizing better-. She said, now with a stiff lip and voice, staring up at him.
-Helaena-. Flinching, Aemond scowls at her, growing restless.
-Daera has good men by her side-. Helaena points out, shamelessly looking at him with soft brows and loosen shoulders-. She has a husband-. The Queen talks, seeing brown hair and brown eyes in her mind.
-I am her husband-. The prince is quick to respond, clenching his sweaty fists to his sides, feeling them trembling.
-A finer one-. With no nerves nor shame and, most specially, no pity, Queen Helaena faced her younger brother with reproachful cold eyes, blinkless. In that moment, his breath left him. He couldn’t believe his ears when he heard those words from her, those words at all-. A doomless one-, she said, looking at him from head to toe.
-No-. Aemond shakes his head from side to side, clenching his lips. He gulps, though the lump only grows stronger-. You must sleep, sister, rest misses you-. His strong of voice whispered to her, not believing her beliefs, her declarations. Instead, he chooses to blame her irrationalities to the tiredness and exhaustion her pregnancy brings.
And the only mention of Prince Jacaerys brought two tears down from Aemond’s eye. He blinks hugely, gasping under his breath and looking at his sister with bemusement. He tried to imagine, only for a second, Daera finding love in Jace, replacing him for him. He imagined her throwing her sapphire rings way, and burning the belt.
-You must accept it-. Helaena shakes her head, looking at him as if it was more an advice than a scolding what she’s giving to him. She’s looking at him as if she is truly speaking truth, and that truth scared the One-Eyed Prince to the core, making his bones to tremble, his heart to shrink, and his blood to get cold-. Jace-, she whispered.
Aemond’s heart burns, which made him to sob, to take a step back, and to look at his sister with a frightened eye.
-Helaena, what have I done to you?-. Is what he could wonder, eyeing her calmed and eerie expression, as if she didn’t care to be hurting him this way. Though she is telling the truth. Would his brother -The Queen thinks- prefers her to lie to him instead?-. Why do you cut me so deeply?-, a whine escaped his trembling lips.
-The ponder relies in what have you done-. Queen Helaena corrected with no shame, clenching her fingers to the sides of her body. He scoffs, shocked, lightly shaking his head. The mannerism looked like Alicent’s.
-What?-, he mumbles.
Helaena blinked heavily, turning her gaze down. She licked her lips and, then, walked way from him. She entered the rooms, leaving the balcony and his brother behind. Silent and thoughtful, she approaches to her children’s cradles, holding their little feet, and smiling tinyly to them.
Prince Aemond remained frozen in the balcony, stricken by fear and terror, looking at the moon and starts with a teary gaze and parted trembling lips. He places his hands in the railing, and shakes his head from side to side. He feels the heavy breeze of King’s Landing touching his face and dark green leather clothes.
The One-Eyed Prince breathes deeply, his shoulders flinching in the middle of a sob. Red-eyed, he looks around the skies with dread and woe, looking to the clouds as if they were to give him some insight of what is he to do right now, what is to happen later. How to know if Helaena speaks truth? Does Daera still does not know?
Feeling the cold and harsh breeze on his face, the prince gulps, wondering something else.
Could the winds really blow heavier, and the clouds could really be darker, when Daera finds out what he has done?
•••
Jacaerys’ back clashes against the mattress.
The prince breathes fastly, having his curls all around his face, but he still looked up with a smile and dreamy eyes. Naked and with damp skin, he now lays on the bed. the brown hands on his chest that pushed him before caress his sides and abdomen, which made him sigh, all silly.
-Wife…-. With barely any breath, he whispers.
Smiling and of shiny eyes, princes Daera crawls on her hands and knees, endlessly staring back at him while she approaches and, eventually, crawls over his body too. Her curly white mane falls all around her back and shoulders, covering her breasts from time to time, bouncing with every move. Her body is bare and her shinning skin would bring any gentleman and knight of the realm to his knees.
From above, she looks down at him with desire and a smirk, feeling extremely free and alive. From below, he looks up at her with praising and a breathless open smile. To his eyes, she’s a siren and a goddess. All the happiness he’s feeling glimmers in his brown eyes.
-Jace…-. A longing whisper came out of her mouth. She said his name, not knowing her cousin, Queen Helaena, did so too at the same time, from the other side of the world-. Are you ready?-. She asks, caressing and massaging his broad shoulders with her tender hands.
-I am-. The prince does not take long to give his confident answer. He raises his manly hands and cups her small waist in them, gripping it and loving its nakedness, her beauty.
-Are you sure?-. Daera looks to his eyes in search of reassuring.
Before anything, she wants to truly know if she is the woman Jacaerys wants to deflower himself with, though she herself longs to be; but this is his decision to make. Prince Jacaerys almost laughed at her question, not mocking her, but wondering if he hasn’t been clear enough, if it isn’t obvious and almost touchable the fact that he wants her, only and ever her.
So, for reassuring’s sake, the brown-haired smiled, cupped her hands with both his hands, and drew her closer to grant her a fierce and loving kiss, closing his eyes. Taking his kiss as an answer, the princess sighed and played with his hair, kissing him back with the same feelings, the same wanting.
Slowly, and still pampering his lips and mane, the princess’ body guides itself to reach the prince’s manhood, which stands tall and hulky, pulsing with pleasure and desire. Daera caresses his cheeks, and gets her mouth away from his. Jacaerys breathes fast, looking up at her.
She wants to look at his face while doing. She holds his chin and, with no hurry, places her entry above of his cock, and starts to slowly sit on it with calculated moves of gentleness. The princess sees how her husband afflicted his throat, opened his mouth, and gasped hugely when that started to happen. His eyes glimmered even more than before, and his hands fiercely gripped her white curls.
-That’s it, that’s it-. Daera whispers with slowness, descending on him, looking straight to his brown eyes filled of love and surprise. Jacaerys moans, breathing fast, feeling how his manhood gets seated on and wrapped by some warm wet walls, hugging and squeezing it, bringing a pleasure to him that he never even thought could exists.
-Holy gods, Daera-. He fastly whispers, gulping and opening his mouth wider along a shaky moan.
-You are taking me-. She mumbled to him, with teary eyes because of how good he feels. He feels so good it’s almost ridiculous. The princess bites her own lips, keeping on descending with the slowness and care he deserves-. You are doing so great, Jace-. She sighs and furrows her brows, caressing his forehead with a hand, and his nose with the other.
-It feels so…-, the prince whines, feeling his cock twitching inside her. He groans, looking down for a second, and finding the heated image of his manhood burying in the middle of her legs. The sight brought a louder moan from him, and a smile too-. Seven hells, oh my- it feels so good, Daera-. He looks up to her eyes again, mouth-opened.
-You feel so good-. She moaned as well, playing with his curls.
After the deserved slowness, the princess took the wholeness of his cock. He is now completely buried in her, from the base to the top, and the feeling made the both of them to moan and to remove in the bed. Jace breathes fastly, squeezing her waist again.
-Fuck-. He cursed for the third time, which caused the princess to groan and laugh, staring down at him-. Thank you, Daera, thank you so much-. He looks up at her with tears in his eyes and a bemused smile, his eyes halfway closed.
-Nothing to thank me for, husband-. Daera purrs, firmly placing her hands on his chest, nearly clutching his nails in there, but she is merciful-…yet-, she added with a cocky whisper and a wink.
Jace tilts his head, laughing with curiosity.
Taking advantage of her hands on his chest, Daera starts to move herself forward and backwards, clenching her walls against his length. In that moment, the prince howled to the ceiling, gripping her waist even tighter, furrowing his brows with disbelief, and moaning as he never had before.
The princess bites her lips, bouncing on his dick to a perfect rhythm, making the bed to start to move with them. She opens her mouth within a moan, and looks down at him in every moment.
-Oh my- fucking gods!-. Below her, as her lovely slave, Jacaerys moans low-pitched, biting his lips, and rolling his eyes completely blank to the back of his head. The image made her walls to clench harder-. Hells- heavens!-. He groans, with a vein pulsing on his red neck.
Freely moaning, the princess thrives of pleasure as she enjoys how big and thick his fucking cock is. She feels how it is stretching her with every move and bounce. It felt bloody fantastic, out of this world; it fills her as no one ever has before.
-Jace, fuck, you are so good!-. Daera flattered in a moan, endlessly moving above of him. He moans with no stop, grabbing her waist and looking up at her with teary eyes of pleasure-. Good boy-, she sighed, squeezing his brown hair into a fist.
A louder moan escaped his lips when he was called that.
-What?-, a string of voice asks her. She bites her lips, smiling, noticing he liked that.
-You are such a good boy-. The princess kept the flattering, thus his moan kept loud too-. That’s why you get me to ride you like this-. She whispered within a groan, grabbing his neck from behind while bouncing and jumping on his cock.
-Yes-. He whimpers, curving his brows-. Ride me-, he repeated, becoming familiar with the term-. Ride me like this, Daera, forever-. The prince begs, moaning loudly, but still hearing the sound their clashing bodies are making.
-Oh, but do you think this is the only marvel you get to rejoice with?-. Cockily, she narrows her eyes and tilts her head, smiling.
-Teach me-. Eager of learning, as always, he open his eyes widely, and pinches her hips with his nails. Daera smiled, licking her lips, and slowly stopping the bouncing-. Yes, show me-. Enchanted, he caresses her legs and squeezes her knees with love.
Daera got herself away from his cock. The feeling made him twitch, and to moan with surprise. She felt empty, and he felt cold, all of a sudden. Then, while she rolled on the bed until laying besides him, he looked down to look at his red wet member, so eager and hungry for more.
Jace bites his lips, and looks to his right. In there, he finds Daera laying on her back, smiling at him with shiny eyes, and grabbing his hands with softness. He smiles, ready to learn.
-Get on your knees, dearest, facing me-. With tones of honey, she lightly pulls his hands. Obedient and curious, Jacaerys’ back leaves the mattress, and he starts to stand on his knees, in front of her, where she placed him.
-In- in here?-. He questions, eyeing the bed for a second, and then back at her. He feels the fireplace’s warmth caressing his back and kissing his shoulders, or perhaps it’s the warmth her lips left before.
-In there-. She nods, looking up at him. Daera smiles, caressing his fingers. Her chest comes up and down while she eyes the brown-haired beauty that stands on his knees in front of her, with eyes filled of nerves and love-. My beautiful boy-. The princess whispered, and then, in the flourish of love, kisses his knuckles.
Jace’s eyes get warmer and softer, smiling down at her with such a happy surprise, loving to hear these names she’s blessed him with. Lovingly, he slouches, and kisses both her knees, caressing her hot thighs and hips.
-Open my legs…-. Slowly, she guides him. The purple in her eyes shines so brightly-, and place yourself between them-. The princess whispered, smiling.
Smiling back at her, and after giving a last kiss to her knees, he grabbed them both with his hand and, with all the care of the world, started to make her legs apart, opening them slowly and with patience, not allowing the fierceness of his cock to interfere with the tenderness of his mind.
Daera bites her lips, and waits for a reaction when her legs are completely spread. Jacaerys breathes longly, losing his brown eyes in the marvel between her legs; beautiful and magical, purple and sublime. Little white drops that have been coming out from his manhood are sprinkled around her femininity, and he stared at it with glimmering eyes.
-Take me-. Her voice brought him back to reality. Teary and dearly, his eyes look at her again-. Remember how you took me in The Vale, with your tongue? You are to do the same now, but with your cock-. He sweetly and slowly says to him, as she caresses his legs with her feet.
-I…I put it in?-. He questions, placing his hands to the sides of her body, and slowly crawling closer to her, advancing between her legs.
-Yes-, she eagerly nods, licking her lips.
She grabs the sides of his head, and draws him closer. Jacaerys breathes fastly, moaning when he felt his cock skimming against her wet flower. She bites her lips again and, while looking into his eyes, she herself grabbed his manhood, and lined it with her entry. The prince twitches, squeezing the bedsheets under his fingers.
Jace blinks slowly, sighing over her face, and then he starts to slide into her. It was so easy, for it was so wet. Her womanhood gladly took him in again, but now it was under his control, under his body and shining eyes. Both princes moaned loudly, staring at each other when feeling such warmth covering them both.
-Fucking hells-. Daera groans with furrowed brows, grabbing his neck from behind. Jace breathes fastly, eyeing down their united members, not believing how good it feels-. You may move, now-. She kept on guiding him, whispering on his nose-. You can be slow and gentle, as much as you can be fast and harsh with me, Jace-. Daera mumbles, intertwining her legs his hips, pressing them against his back. He moans with a breathless smile, deepening more into her-. I am under your yoke now-, she declared with pride.
Charmed by both the liberties and her permissions, Jacaerys’ eyes rolled to the back of his head and moans from deep his throat came out when he started to thrust his cock into her in a slow repetition of in and out. Daera moans, curving her brows and quickly nodding, encouraging him to keep on.
Jace stares into her eyes, and groans while pushing in and out of her, making her body to bounce at the same pace as his. The prince moans loudly, caressing a side of her head and keeping balance with another one placed on the bed. He feels her hands pampering his back and the moles in it.
-Seven hells!-, the prince curses with no breath, thrusting into her with no stop at any moment.
-Yes, yes, yes-. The high-pitched moans that keep coming out of her lady mouth are making him to go faster from time to time, encouraged by the pleasure in both her mouth and eyes, which are staring at him with a shine he is lucky to be deserving of -. Fuck- you fuck me so good, my boy-. The princess sighs-. Good boy-
The caresses on his back and the praising from her mouth only makes him to thrust deeper into her, hungrier, having his pleasure and giving it back to her by the double. His cock touches every inch of her walls, he reaches and hits the end of her time after time, making her to go insane.
-Fuck!-. Whining, he licks his lips, and directs a hand to her right leg, tightly grabbing it when starting to thrust harder into her. The white-haired princess lets out a hot chuckle, throwing her head back for a second, and then looking back at him with a savage smile.
-You’ve excelled this, in matter of minutes, husband-. Her breath praises him with a grin. He grunts and sighs, staring into her eyes with a boiling lust-. You learn so fast, my King-. Daera cockily smiles, exactly knowing what those words would do to him.
In that moment, he placed both of his hands on her legs, possessing them, and then began to fuck her deeper and harder and faster, perfectly coming in and out of her in a pace that was making the bed to bounce, the princess to cheer with moans, and the fire to look pathetic against all the heat the both of them are emanating.
-My beautiful wife-, Jacaerys breathes in fastly, moaning while he takes her with all the willing of the Seven Kingdoms, taking sighs and moans out of her with no end.
-Jace!-. She curves her brows, staring up at him in the middle of his intense and god-like thrusts.
Mouth-opened, he looks to the wonder below him; Daera’s face is a poem written by love and lust, her shiny breasts are endlessly bouncing with every move of him, her walls are clenching to his cock every time more. This is a wonder, the one who has been given to him, and even though he has known it from the start, he’s close to starting to cry by realizing how good his fortune is.
-Oh, Daera-. The prince moans her name like a prayer, curving his brows and looking down at her with a fast breath. She smiles and bites her lips, holding both sides of his face while looking at him too-. Daera, gods, Daera-. He moans her, starting to tremble and to feel his hands losing strength; it is too much, and he loves it.
-You are perfect-. Daera whispered to him with love, drawing his face nearer to her. He whines, fucking her while looking at her in awe, captured by pleasure-. How…how good you fuck me, my King-. She coos him, smiling and sighing, her eyes half closed because of how perfectly she’s being fucked at the moment.
-You are perfect-. His breathless voice praised her too. He curves his brows, and grunts when feeling his legs trembling-. I think I’ll…-, he closes his eyes strongly, scowling at himself.
-Ow, you can-. The princess spoke with huge love, ending the distance between them, and granting him a long loving kiss.
Jacaerys fell to his elbows in that moment, and his body got completely pressed against Daera’s, laying on top of her while answering her gesture with passion and moans and tears, forgetting his own name and where he comes from. She hugged his beck, chaining him to her, hearing her name chanted by his shaky growly voice.
His cock thrusts into her faster than ever, making the bed to squeak, and them both to press their foreheads together and moan over the other’s lips. They hug each other, touching every inch of their bodies, burning one against the other.
-Daera!-, the prince gasped, holding a side of her face.
He gave a last thrust, and then he came to the height of his pleasure. Jacaerys twitched and moaned loudly, burying himself deeper into her when feeling such a huge wave of bliss clashing with his body and mind. His wife afflicts her throat and holds his neck in the middle of groans, letting him to have his moment.
Jace breathes fast, hiding his face between her neck and shoulder, making her to shiver due to his heated sighs and his silly mumbles. Daera bites her lips strongly, closing her eyes and heading her hands to his hair and back. She feels her prince granting slow kisses to her neck, gripping her thighs and legs.
-Gods…-, a growly whisper echoed in the pillow he was resting his forehead in. Looking at the ceiling, she laughs, lingering her fingers all around his back-. Daera…-, he named her, enchanted.
-Right here-, she funnily whispered.
After a shaky sigh, he got the strength to rise his head, and to look at her. He found the face of a goddess staring at him with loving eyes and the proudest of smiles. Breathless, he smiles too, briefly shaking his head.
Then, he is blessed by the sound and sight of his wife laughing cheerfully, just inches away from his face. Daera chuckles from deep her throat, combing his hair with her tender fingers, and tapping his chin with her own nose.
-How was it?-. She asks, tauntly casual, narrowing her eyes. Before her question, he opened his widely, letting her know immediately. Daera cackled to the ceiling, scrunching her eyes and nose.
While she laughs, he looks at her with no breath, and when she looked back at him, smiling brighter than ever, he blinked.
-I love you-. Prince Jacaerys whispered to his wife, within a second.
Daera let out a light gasp, slowly fading her smile away. She had heard it before, of course, but it was so sudden that he said it, and…and right. Love gets hold of the purple-eyed face when she sighs through her nose, and caresses his cheeks while eyeing his whole face with pure dearness, and appreciation.
-I love you too-. Princess Daera mumbled back to him, slowly.
The confession brought fast heartbeats to the prince’s chest, and a huge smile to his wet lips. Jace smiles at her with devotion and bemusement, admiring her everything. Daera smiles to him as well, pampering his cheeks while he pampers her chin and ears.
They love each other.
He’s still buried in her, and none of the both are eager to point it out and break the contact. Silent, she kissed his forehead, and hugged his head to her naked warmth chest. The prince sighed with comfort, closing his eyes, kissing her left breast, and letting his hands to rest on her white mane.
It was only matter of minutes for the prince to find sleep. A nice dream of crowns and kisses welcomed him warmly, and he stepped into them with a smile and a filled heart, holding his wife’s waist in one hand, and his mother’s hand in the other.
Caressing and kissing his brown curls, the princess remained awaken a bit longer. With easy eyes, a pressed smile, and a loving prince hugged to her chest, princess Daera looks up to the ceiling with love and hope, never wanting this moment to end.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, family drama, angst and mistrust, lots of flirting, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated
•••
《 Princes Jacaerys and Daera Targaryen in The North: First Night 》
•••
A soft cold breeze reached Jacaerys' cheeks. He breathed in deeply, opening his eyes a little wider than usual, for he seeks to take everything from the view in front of him.
Having been placed and accommodated in one of the tallest towers of Winterfell's castle, the landscape is not one of simpleness for the brown haired prince. So, standing behind a clear long window, Jace constanly narrows his eyes and allows little smiles to escape from his lips, admiring the white surroundings.
His companion, on the other hand, is not rather mesmerized with the views of the outsides. Instead, the princess Daera keeps her purple eyes placed in a map she had taken out from her luggage. A map of Westeros whole. In it, there are circles and notes made by hand; hers and her husband's.
Daera hums lowly, tilting her head a little to the left, looking at the places they've already gone to, and where they are now. They have come a long way, indeed. So far from home, now, in such short time.
In certain moment, Jace shivered from the cold, laughing lowly. He hugged himself, and turned his head lightly, giving a sidelong glance towards the room. He looked back to the white snow and, after feeling a warm rope pulling his heart, he turned again, and placed his brown eyes in the white hair of his wife.
He looked at her; she's quiet, standing beside a wooden table on which she has placed both her open hands and the map between them. She is slouching unconsciously, too concentrated on her reading.
After staring at her covered back for some moments, Jacaerys closed the window, and walked towards there with easy steps, looking as the wind no longer reaches her hair to blow her silver points.
-Our raven must be home already-. Jacaerys said, calmly.
When hearing him, Daera briefly raised her brows, directing her eyes towards Dragonstone, in the map. He's right; the raven they sent home from Heart's Home should have arrived there already. So, their family knows what they've accomplished.
-Uhum-. She agreed with him in a swift nod. Arriving to her side, Jace lifts an eyebrow, looking at her at all moments-. When flying back home, you and I are going to take the same path the raven did-. Daera declared, gaining a curious glance from him.
-No need to hide anymore-. Jacaerys mumbles, undertanding that it won't be of need anymore to avoid flying above cities or castles. When coming here, it was discreet. When going back, it will be with succes and more supporters than before, thus, no need of discression any longer.
-We'll cut through The Eyrie-. Daera decided, caressing the named place with one of her fingers; no ring in either of them-. Its sky already knows us, the wind is helpful and, it will make a statement-. She declared, nodding along her words.
-Agreed-. Jace quickly nods, placing a hand beside hers, on the map. Daera blinks slowly, staring at it-. We turn at the Crownlands-, the prince plans-. Before Rosby and after Antlers-. He says with confidence.
-After Maidenpool-, Daera whispers while reading the map-. Word will reach King's Landing within the hour, when we fly there-. She murmurs, finding imposible not to smile a little-. They'll know we're at it-, she giggled so very softly.
-Let them-. Jacaerys declared, crossing his hands behind his back.
The princess curled her closed lips into a prideful smile, glancing at the island and names on the old paper. When looking at King's Landing, again, he copied her.
-I wonder what they are doing right now-. Jacaerys murmured, not finding the possible answers away from his grap or knowledge.
-Playing ''the dumb cunts'', as we speak-. Daera said, and her throat tightened as her saliva tasted sour. Jace chuckled, showing his teeth.
The purple-eyed princess kept looking at King's Landing, still smiling.
Then, she glanced at Blackwater Bay. In the map, there is not one single line that makes any reference to a place only she knows. Lovers Island. So little, insignificant and lacking of richness that piece of dirt is, that is not even on the maps. Non-existent.
Her heart tightens. And when it happened, she closed the conversation, and the map as well.
-They'll know what's coming to them-. Daera promised, leaving the rolled paper on a chair beside the table they're in.
-Hm-, Jace agreed with her, nodding, and playing with a little piece of paper in his hand. Daera turned around, and looked at it with slowly closing lips; her eyes softened, and her fists closed at the sides of her body-...So will Lord Stark-, he whispers.
Between his fingers, he holds the handwritten calling of Queen Rhaenyra, to the Lord of the North and all of his vassal houses. Both princes know the weight of the words in there.
-House Stark is the last one of our journey; we must tread carefully, but we may know what the outcome is- the prince spoke with seriousness. His wife tilted her head to aside, almost cockily, intertwining her arms over her chest.
-What is the outcome?- she asked. Jace lifted his brows to the top of his head, as if the answer was an obvious one.
-A Stark never breaks an oath- he pointed out, quoting history.
-Ha, yes, none of the houses are supposed to- Daera raised her brows with a humorless smile, approaching him with two slow steps. -And the Hightowers just did- she recalled, nodding.
-I understand your doubt, wife, but I would not compare Cregan Stark to... Otto Hightower- Jace nearly rolled his eyes when mentioning that last name, which brought a special glint to his wife's eyes. -The Starks are a serious house, one with great honor and an even greater history with our House- he spoke with manner and confidence, continuously nodding.
Daera looked at him in silence, listening, as she rarely did. Jace breathed in and took a step toward her this time. A mirror near them reflected his brown eyes looking at hers with posture, and some hidden yearning.
-Cregan does not know yet that the Greens are toying with our throne. We have the upper hand, just as we did in The Vale- he recalled with soft murmurs. The princess nodded lightly, understanding. -He'll comply when he knows what's happening beyond the North- Jace assured, resting his lower back against the table.
Beyond the North...
When those words echoed in her head, Daera's smile started to fade slowly. She thought about home, wondering how everyone was doing – besides being so far away. Aware of her change in mood, Jace voiced his concern.
-What is it?- he questioned, as soft as the snow outside. And, even softer, he grabbed one of her hands as a sign of support.
-Do you think Luke is already home?- the silver-haired princess asked in a whisper, thinking of her selfless little brother with blue steel eyes and dark hair. When he was mentioned, Jace's eyes filled with understanding.
-Arriving, if not already there.- He answered.
-Yes?- Daera's eyes immediately shined, tightening his hand in hers. Her husband looked at her with honey-colored eyes, starting to nod.
-You may be at ease, Daera. Storm's End is a short flight from home.- Jacaerys voiced, as comforting as Rhaenyra had been the day she sent them out to fulfill their duties as princes of the realm.
-You are right...- Recalling that, she started to nod, sighing heavily.
-Whatever Lord Borros' answer, Luke is or will be home.- The brown-haired prince promised her, caressing her ever-soft fingers. Looking at him, Daera began to smile, little by little.
Oh, they know nothing...
-Am I doing it again?- she asked in a whisper.
-What thing? Being a good sister?- Jace narrowed his eyes, jesting, not wanting her to think about her “overprotectiveness.” It helped, for she revealed her teeth and laughed amusedly. -You always are,- he shrugged, smiling.
The silver-haired princess stared at him with a closed smile, thankful for him. Jacaerys looked back at her warmly and softly. Daera breathed in slowly, briefly recalling all the noise he made her produce, back in The Vale, in that lonely room they heated with their breath and moans. The whole region listened, she’d wager.
After some long moments of silence and stares, Jacaerys let out a sigh, and allowed his head to fall foward. With this, his forehead met hers, and Daera welcomed this with further touch, grabbing his other hand, and intertwining their fingers together.
Husband and wife rest their foreheads against the other's, finding comfort and warmth in there; all that they need in the middle of this storm -in all the senses possible-.
Moments then, Daera looks at her husband's hair, and starts to smile.
-Now...-. She mumbled, out of nowhere, grabbing his chin, and making him to look up. Jace parted his lips, looking at her with bright eyes.
Jacaerys smiles beautifully, staring at her. Daera lifts her cheeks up, caressing her soft chin, and feeling and inexplicable good-feeling on her chest.
-Let us do something about this-. The princess funnily said, ruffling all of his curly hair with her other hand.
Husband and wife laugh funnily, standing closely to each other.
•••
The sun covers Westeros with morning, bringing some singing birds and a soft breeze to King's Landing. Such breeze enters Prince Aemond's apartments, carefully blowing his white straight long mane.
The One-Eyed Prince stands in front of the chimney of his rooms, only that it is with no fire in it; cold and silent, just as him. His jaw remains clenched, as well as his fists, which are crossed behind his back.
The prince is thinking, oblivious of any sound or happening in his surroundings. He's alone. His ears are deaf, and his mind loud.
From a moment to another, a sudden memory made him remember Arrax's crushing bones when his dragon, Vhagar, ate him completely with just one large bite. When hearing the bones, and the dragon's cry on his mind, Aemond shivered, and clenched his jaw even tighter.
—VHAGAR! NO!— he yelled, that day above Shipbreaker Bay, filled with a fading rage, and a borning fear.
Aemond closes his eye, and gulps harshly, hating to be shivering time after time, with every memory he has.
The prince thinks of his lady wife, Daera. When she knows of her dead brother, if she still doesn't... what is to be of them? Will she hate him? Oh, such a stupid question to ask, being someone so clever. She will hate him; there's no doubt in that statement. And that statement has made sleep out of reach for him.
Aemond is not sleeping, at least not right. The thought of his wife hating him haunts him deeply. She always told him; ''she always told me, to leave her brothers at peace, and do no harm to them. But I did, now. I killed one of them. I killed Luke.''
He blinks, opening his eye, and staring again at the dry wood on his chimney.
—I killed Luke— he whispered to himself, softly and slowly. He feels a wave of pride running all around him. Oh, he should be so ashamed—. I killed Luke— Aemond repeated, one more time, thinking of Luke and only Luke.
And so, here is the truth; when taking Daera out of the equation, Aemond's doings make him feel nothing but powerful, proud, and terribly menacing. He only has confessed it to himself, and even sometimes it troubles him, but it is true; it feels good to have killed Lucerys Strong.
It felt bloody nice, to finally have acted on someone who had wronged him so much, who so much deserved to be treated badly; to pay, to suffer, just as he made Aemond suffer—multiple times—throughout his life.
Aemond's lips part, whilst his mind remembers all the damage Luke ever did to him. He doesn't even have to think about the fact that he took his eye, no, but all the teasing and mocking since they were kids, the cruel jokes, how belittled they made him feel, the snitching when telling everybody about him and Daera.
For the gods' sake, you name it. Luke's purpose, while he lived and breathed, was to make Aemond's life as miserable and hard as possible. Lucerys lasted years looking for this, and he found it. He found him.
Aemond closes his eye, once again, and a smile started to get hold of his face.
Ser Criston congratulated him. Yesterday, at nightfall. Pride shined in his mentor's eyes, while he murmured to him what a good demonstration of power it was to kill the Whore of Dragonstone's most useless bastard.
—An act made in haste, I might agree with your grandfather and mother on that part, but a smart one at that— Ser Criston had whispered while palming his back, and leaning to him under the prince's listening bright eye—... You made a good start, Aemond—. He promised him, friendly squeezing his shoulder.
Bringing his mind back to his quarters, Aemond's smile turns bigger with every second. But then, all of a sudden, he forced himself to erase it. Daera came back to his mind.
''I must see her, as soon as possible.''
But what will he do, anyway, when he sees her? What is he to do? Apologize? Tell her that it was a mistake, that he regrets it? He would be lying to her.
So, he'll lie? And, let us say that he does. He lies, and says he killed Luke by mistake. Does it make it any better? Fuck no. Accident or not, he killed her brother, and he has no escape from the fact.
As much as Aemond is harshly trying to evade his truth and assure that things will be good with his wife, there is no way out. Not this time. But the prince, alas, has not realized that yet.
Not wanting to keep thinking of that, the One-Eyed Prince finally looked away from the chimney, and walked out of his chambers, with that serious and cold face he always walks with.
Everyone looks at him, as custom, from the servants and guards, to the lords and their servants and guards. It is true that the one-eyed has always been familiar with all the stares he attracts while walking in a place. It used to be only for his patch and the empty socket below it, but now... now it's different.
People used to look down at him with pity or disgust when he was a shy child. Things have changed for him. People now look up at him with fear or mistrust, calling him ''Kinslayer'' in their minds, and through whispers.
However, though the reason they stare at him has mostly changed, he still knows how to ignore every single eye placed on him. Aemond keeps walking, firmly, knowing he is just better than anyone who is looking at him.
He does not watch, he acts and, for that, they call him a monster.
He wishes to have supper with his mother tonight. He wants to sit with her, and explain to her in great detail what was that happened the day he killed Lucerys Velaryon. Prince Aemond may be completely unfazed with the people's opinion of him. But Lady Alicent's, his mother... he couldn't live with her eyes looking at him the same way the others do.
And she is angry, he can tell, yes. Angry with him, totally. But he is her son. He's hers. What can she do, but accept and forgive him? Alicent has never given him her back, and the prince knows this won't be the first time.
Aemond halts his steps when a familiar sound reaches his ears. He cocks his head to a side, glancing at the library of the castle. He hears, again, chuckles coming from there.
All the serious facade fades from his face within a second. Prince Aemond smiled, quickly heading towards the library with fast steps.
When he walked into it, he encountered Jaehaerys on the company of a brown-skinned midwife, who sweetly reads a book to the little prince, who soon raised his eyes with curiosity when feeling someone entering the room.
—Jaehaerys—, his uncle, Aemond, breathed a smile when he saw him, approaching quickly.
Noelia, the midwife, shivered crazily when seeing the One-Eyed Prince nearing to them. She almost fainted, scared, when that wide purple eye fell on her being.
—Leave us—. He ordered without erasing his smile, directing it to his nephew, who looked up at him with a growing beautiful grin.
—My prince—. Claudia muttered, bowing her head to him, and quickly standing up from the table, leaving the child sitting alone.
It pained the midwife to leave the little prince alone with his malevolent uncle but, to her misfortune, he's the prince, and the prince gave an order to her.
Walking out of the library, Claudia gulped. With alerted eyes, she started to walk faster, knowing where to head to. Who to, better said.
—Little thing—, Aemond whispers funnily, taking place in the chair the midwife had left empty.
—Aemond—, his nephew mumbled with clearness, opening a hand to him. The prince laughs, feeling a light lump on his throat.
—Smart boy, you—. The one-eyed whispers within a laugh, taking his hand, and caressing his small fingers—. I missed you—. He confessed, breathing heavily, looking at his clear purple eyes which with so much dearness look at him.
Aemond realizes that, since he came back from Storm's End, these are the first pair of eyes that have looked at him like that, and not with fear or anger. That meant a lot to him.
—Oh, you are a year old, already, gods be good—. Aemond suddenly remembers, raising his blond brows—. Happy name day, my boy—. He sighed, placing a hand on Jaehaerys' head, and caressing his hair softly.
The child prince smiled at him, as if he was thanking the congratulations. That made his uncle laugh for some moments, looking at him with deep love. He breathes in, smelling the books around.
—What were you reading about?—, the uncle questions with great interest, raising his brows.
Jaehaerys blinks softly, and proceeds to point at the book opened in front of him. Aemond also looks, smiling, until his lips trembled when he saw a detailed drawing of Kalistrox on the page of the book. His heart sank, and his eye definitely got a little damp.
The Golden Ray, Son of the Sun.
—Learning your dragons, huh?—. Aemond scoffs, trying to keep smiling, but failing in doing so. He gulps, thinking of his distant wife, of the last time he saw her, of the last time she saw their nephews. He sniffs his nose briefly, thinking that the boy misses his aunt—. I miss her too...—, he confessed within a whisper that sank his heart in his chest even deeper.
It is just impossible that Daera ever leaves his mind, isn't it?
With one finger, Aemond caresses the image of the book, wrinkling his lips while he sniffs his nose again, not wanting the single tear on his eye to fall. He gulps harshly, pretending to keep smiling while he stares at his love's dragon.
—...Daera—, Jaehaerys clearly named. He's also looking at Kalistrox on the image. The boy is smart, for he appears to know that golden beast is his aunt's mount.
This is the first time that Aemond hears the boy saying Daera's name. Before this, he didn't even know he had said it before. Thus, Aemond opened his eye widely, and his chin almost reached the floor when his mouth fell open.
—''Daera''? Did you say ''Daera''?, Jaehaerys?—. Aemond babbles, shocked, placing a hand on his shoulder. His nephew blinks with simplicity, just looking at him—. Did you say her name!?— He questioned, as if the kid was going to answer.
Dipped in his mad love, Aemond stood up from his chair, and walked two steps forward, looking around desperately. He came to even think that Daera might be in the very library, hidden and waiting to come out. Aemond breathes heavily, pleading on his mind that she would do so.
But, who came into the room was someone else.
Queen Helaena had been grasping her own hands over her chest while coming to the library, and when she came in, her eyes filled with worry, and her mouth hissed with alert.
—Jaehaerys!—. She named and, within a second, quickly walked to him, opening her arms.
Her brother, who had been looking around the room in search of Daera, like a madman, could not believe his eyes when he saw Helaena taking his nephew in her arms, lifting him off the chair, and away from him.
Everything happened in the span of three seconds.
—Mommy—, a dear breath came from the child's mouth as he hugged back his mother.
—Helaena, what in the Seven Hells?—. The One-Eyed mumbles, blinking, looking as his sister grasped the kid to herself, carrying him and hugging his head with an open hand.
—You were alone with him—. Her breathy voice answers, as if it was reason enough to look this scared and protective of her son.
Aemond opens his eye wide, running out of air when he starts to connect the dots. He could not believe it. Not her; please, not Helaena.
—Do not do this, sister—. Aemond speaks carefully, approaching with two slow steps. Helaena wrinkles her trembling eyes, taking two steps back in response, firmly holding her child—. I beg you—. He blinks, shocked.
—You killed a child—. Helaena spoke with a heavy voice and even heavier tears in her purple eyes. Aemond gasps, airless.
—Jaehaerys is my nephew!—. He raised his frightened voice, pointing at him with insistence.
—So was the boy—. The Queen did not stutter when saying the truth, her eyes widely opened and her throat afflicted while looking at him.
Aemond lets his head fall a little forward, looking at her as if she were mad, which he now swears she is. This cannot be happening. She cannot be thinking it’s the same thing.
—Helaena...—, he named, as softly as possible.
—Daera's brother!—. She raised her voice at him, for the first time ever, clinging her boy to her body, and looking at him as what he is now. Not only his brother... but a Kinslayer.
—You- you- you know what they did to me!—. Before his sister's scream, he couldn't help but gag, surprised and shaken by her clear mistrust.
—He was Daera's brother!—. Helaena stresses the same fact, turning around and quickening her steps. Aemond breathes fast, starting to follow her with haste—. A child!—, a broken sob escaped Her Grace's mouth.
—Sister, wait!—. And with no previous thought, the one-eyed quickly grabbed one of her arms, stopping her fleeing. She instantly squealed, trying to shake him off, while Jaehaerys opened his eyes hugely—. I was a child too, Helaena!—. His trembling voice tries to justify himself, looking at her with desperation.
—Aemond!—. A voice different from his, firm and loud, yelled from a moment to another, interrupting everything.
Mom.
Aemond let go of his sister, and they both turned their heads around. They saw their mother, Alicent, and their little brother, Daeron, arriving at the library with shaky breaths, having heard half of what had happened.
The older prince gulps, taking a step away from his sister, but still looking at her. Helaena glanced back at him, just to soon depart from his side, and from the hall. And, oh, the look she gave him... it will haunt him until his final day.
With her tense baby boy clinging to her body, Queen Helaena looked at her younger brother with crystal eyes of fear, disappointment, and alert, like she didn't know him at all. With her mouth babbling nonsense, Helaena left them all behind, letting her face tell Aemond that he scared both her and Jaehaerys.
Aemond blinks slowly, feeling like this was an out-of-body experience. This cannot be real.
With his fists nervously clenched at his sides, Prince Daeron looked at his mother, who directed a quick nod towards him while looking at her other son. The youngest then gulped and walked out too, following Queen Helaena.
The One-Eyed Prince's chest comes up and down with slowness. With such slowness, he glances at his mother, who looks back at him with a tense posture, and a rigid expression of shakeness. She has been crying; the bags under her eyes betray her.
—Mother...—, the prince whispers, about to excuse himself. She had none of it.
—You must be very careful with Helaena and her condition, Aemond—. Alicent scolded with firmness, raising her brows. Her son's face turned into a confused one, narrowing his eye and parting his lips. She gulps, shaking her head and nearly rolling her eyes blank, remembering that he doesn't know—. She is with child—, the Queen Dowager informed, with no emotion.
Aemond went speechless in that moment, opening his eye hugely when hearing the news. He blinks quickly. He gets excited, scared, confused.
But his mother didn't allow him to even have a proper reaction.
—At these hours, you belong in the skies, Aemond—. Alicent speaks plainly, crossing her hands over her belly. Her son furrows his brows, lightly cocking his head—. You must take Vhagar, and patrol the skies—. She explained, never blinking while looking at him.
Aemond frowns, heavily confused, for it is not usual for his mother to be sending him up there. He stares at her with a growing mistrust, crossing his arms behind his back.
—Days ago, you didn't want any of us up there—. He remembered with a husky voice that was almost burlesque, wanting to know what she would say. What she answered, nevertheless, he did not expect it.
—Days ago, Rhaenyra's son was alive and hale—. Queen Alicent scolded him with no shame, scrutinizing him with her cold gaze, one he is not used to, and that made him tremble on the inside.
Aemond's lips parted, not hiding his hurt, and his mother did her best at pretending that she truly didn't care.
—I defended you, and Helaena, mother—. The prince hisses while taking some steps towards her—. He was calling Rhaenyra ''Queen''—, he recalls, desperate.
—As you called them ''bastards'' the other night, and no one died, Aemond!—. Alicent is quick to anger, rising her voice and opening her eyes widely at him.
Aemond scoffs, taking air in and getting prepared to answer that with quickness.
—And who taught me th—
—To the skies you go, now!—. But the Queen interrupted his mere trying of talking. He gasped, leaving his words on the air, and looking at her with hurt and disbelief. She, on the other hand, does not bat a single lash at him—...King's orders—. Alicent stressed, coldly.
The One-Eyed Prince looked at her a little longer, gulping. He clenched his fists, and did not say one more word. He walked past her, only staring forward, pretending that his chest was not aching, and that his eyes wanted to cry with no end.
Even dead, Lucerys keeps bringing problems to him.
When Alicent was left alone, she trembled wholly, breaking her coldness, and hiding her face between her hands to sigh shakily. She shakes her head from side to side, with a deep pain on her beating chest.
She sobs, trying to get herself together. At the same time, she hears armor clinking, and getting closer every moment. Alicent blinks, wiping away a sour tear, and turning her head around with a tired face.
She finds Ser Criston arriving at the library, and looking at her with his big brown eyes turned into soft clouds, only because he's looking at her.
•••
Daera and Jace have been fetched for supper, as Lord Cregan promised when they arrived.
The day had turned to night, the bright sky replaced by a dark, even colder one, which the Targaryen princes couldn't believe as they stepped out of their chamber, leaving behind the warmth they had grown accustomed to by the vivid fireplace.
At the moment, they are guided by the humble servant boy, Telio, who walks calmly in front of them, heading to the dining room of Winterfell's castle. Behind him, the princes walk side to side, sharing constant glances and little smiles.
Having known they were to face a great cold in the North, the spouses had come prepared for such weather.
Prince Jacaerys dressed himself with the colors of his father's house, for this occasion. Velaryon. An ocean blue velvet cape that falls until before reaching his knee is what makes him look so royal and prince-like. Under the coat, dark grey clothes contrast with his brown eyes and with the golden belt where he has his sword placed at. His fresh curly hair looks as soft as feathers, complimenting his face way more than straight hair ever did.
A long red dress covers Daera's body entirely, from her shoulders to her toes, keeping her fairly warmed. As well as her husband, a cape falls behind her back, only that hers is made of black leather, and is as sharp as the dagger and sword she carries on her belt too. Half of her silver curly mane is collected into a bun behind her head, and the rest of it falls freely on her back. She wears black gloves and, as a final touch, a golden thin necklace on her neck.
The brown-eyed prince blinks softly, tilting his head to look at his right. His wife glanced back at him, breathing deeply through her nose, and silently nodding towards him. He nodded back at her.
Soon, Telio knocked two wide doors, and they were opened from the inside by two knights. The fat and adorable northern boy smiles briefly, looking behind him.
-My princes-, he steps to a side, pointing forward. Jacaerys and Daera smile at him, grateful, keeping on walking.
-Thank you-. The prince tilted his head towards the boy, whilst taking his wife's hand into his.
Telio bowed his head to them, closing his eyes, and allowing them to approach. With thism the princes are welcomed into a room that the outsides of the castle must be jealous of; the eating chamber is warm, an orange lim tone lighting everyone's faces. Quite everyone's, for there are lots of people at the supper.
-Woah-, Jace mumbles, unevitably surprised. As they walk, each face and pair of eyes turned to look at them, following their steps with curious and troubled expression, looking at their fine clothes and shoes-. This is not like The Chamber of the Painted Table, at all-. He whispered under his breath, looking around with kindess as his gaze.
-Not at all-, his wife answers with a similar whisper, only that hers is filled with amusement-. I think the whole of Winterfell might be here-. She joked, which took out a scoff and a laugh from his chest.
They glance at each other, silently and discreetly smiling.
Though the room is full of multiple tables, in which handfuls of people eat, drink and jest, there is what it seems to be the main table. Raised in the middle of the dinning room, a large table of eight chairs has the Lord of Winterfell seated at its head, looking at the newcomers, from his place.
Lord Cregan chews with his mouth closed, and his moving lips smiled tinyly while watching at the two tourists looking around with what they thought was a good pretending of their surprise, though Cregan knows true; few are the lords that invite his town to dine with him, and it shows on the dragon princes' interest.
The young lord sniffs his nose, sharing a glance with the ones on his table, and proceeding to stand up from his chair. He grabs his silver goblet, and starts to rise it, in the middle of the room.
-Do I smell...lemon cake?-. Daera ponders, suddenly blinking with great curiosity.
-I am afraid I only smell some really good baked potatoes...-, Jacaerys mumbles, wandering his eyes around.
In between their interchanges of cravings, a mutter reached both their ears at the same time. A voice from a peasant woman in one of the tables.
-He looks more northern than Velaryon...-. She said, turning sharp eyes to the prince, and heading back to the close ones who listened to her.
Unbeknownst to her, the princes heard her. Jacaerys felt a pinch on his chest, which made him gulp and to clear his throat. His wife -as much as she would have wished to point her sword towards the peasant, and shut her at once- chose to inmediately succor to her husband's ease of mind.
-I think...-. Daera turns her head to look at him, a smile starting to take place on her lips as she pulled his hand. Jace's brown eyes shine again when he began to copy her smile-...I catch a glimpse of those baked potatoes-, she raises her brows.
-My princes!-. The voice of Lord Cregan made their heads to turn around. They keep walking as they look at his lordship with respect-. Be welcome, please-. He decently greets them, pointing at two empty chairs on the table.
Jace licks his lips, scrunching his wife's hand on his.
-We shall find out-. Mumbling, he gave her a sided smile, and then quickened his approaching towards the main table, followed by her fancy steps.
The princes kept on walking and, with them, dozens of eyes followed. Most of the glances, we must admit, are directed to the princess. Not even northern people, as pride and serious as they may be, can deny that god-like beauty that now walks between them, as an equal, almost.
This is the first time, for most, seeing a Targaryen. They young man may carry the surname too, aye, but he is plain feautured and as brown-haired as them; is the princess -his lady wife- who is the epitome of the ancestral Valyrian beauty. Those white curls falling freely on her back, never ending, bouncing with every step and giggle of her. Eyes as purple as the most beautiful of sunsets.
There's a warmth in her gaze that may remind many of their mothers or daughters, while others think about how they've never felt someone like this; her presence. Princess Daera, the Rogue Princess, has stolen many of a northern heart, just by her looks.
And all she has done is walk.
-Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and princess Daera Targaryen, I present to you all-. Lord Stark places the princes in front of the table with educaction, signaling at them when they finally arrived. The seated ones look with very much interest at them.
-Well met-, the brown-eyed prince nods to all of them, while his wife reads every face of the table, kind-looking.
-My princes, I present to you my mother, the Lady Bethany Bolton-. Cregan points as his mother with an open palm. On her chair, a black-haired woman of soft brown eyes bows her head to them with a cold but sincere smile.
-My princes-, she give sher respect.
-My lady, a pleasure to make your acquaintance-. Daera nods to her, crossing her hands on her belly. Jace smiled to her, lightly, tilting his head.
-If you please, princess-. Discreetly, Lord Cerwyn moved some of the empty chairs, signaling it to Daera, who quickly smiled and nodded, taking her seat, and Jacaerys with her.
-Thank you, my Lord-. She thanked him, and he bowed his head with a tight smirk, closing his eyes.
Taking seat besides his wife, prince Jacaerys heads a smile towards the rest of the table. Lord Cregan copies them, and returns to his seat as well, placing his cup on the table while looking at everyone.
-Who else do we have here?-. In a smile, Daera scrunched her nose, turning her gaze to a little boy seated at Cregan's right. The boy hid his face, blushing, which brought honest laughs to the table.
With formalities in the middle, Lord Stark presented everyone in the table to the princes. Besides his mother, there are two more kin to him at the supper.
The boy, sweet to the princess' eyes, turns out to be the lord's only child, and heir. Rickon Stark, name after his deceased grandsire, is a kid of grey eyes and pink cheeks, as pale as everyone from here. He showed princess Daera and prince Jacaerys five of his fingers, letting them know he is five years of age.
Lord Cregan's half-sister also dines with them. Sarah Snow, the bastard sister to Lord Stark, is not a secret. She is gently welcomed to her family and most the doings of them. Two years Daera's junior, she is of black long hair and blue eyes. Pale skin -again- as white as her surname aludes to. She eyed the prince Jacaerys with the curiosity of a child and the desire of a blooming woman.
Lastly, the princes met Lord Cerwyn's wife, Argaella, a loving confident lady of blond mane and strong factions that made her look like a painting. She's beautiful, and very quiet, but did allowed herself to flatter the princess' fine dress and her jewerly, a compliment that Daera took with all of her heart, and returned it with the admitting of her liking on the lady's silver rings.
With no further ado, they started to eat, at last, enyojing of roasted rabbit, baked potatoes and carrots, and a very strong red wine. The savours combined brought a sigh from Jacaerys' nose, and a nostalgic feeling on Daera's heart, for it came to her mind some memories of the delicious suppers she would have with Aemond, way back to their Seventh Heaven, in Pentos. She gulped those memories away, for her own good, along the meat and vegetables.
-Has your chamber been of your pleasure, my princes?-. Lady Bolton asked with a curios little smile, after cleaning with a napking her grandchild's hands.
-It is lovely, my Lady, thank you-. Prince Jacaerys answered with kindness, whilst his wife chuckled while looking at Rickon and the apparent joy he finds in smashing the baked potatoes with his own fists.
-How great-, Lady Bethany gave him a breeze of a smile, soon returning her attention to the young child and his manners.
While chewing the sweetened carrot, princess Daera look around the hall with dissimulation and interest, taking a few seconds to glance at every face present. She sees many a men, along their families and friends. What is curious is that they are also constantly glancing towards them, at certain times, with the common eyes of mistrust of northeners.
Jace attends to their surroundings as well, fixing his brown gaze in the ones nearest to them. More and more look at his hair with no pretending, which he forces himself to ignore. He's more concentrated on the expressions their faces give out, whether if they are content with their visit or no; he can see the feelings are split among the people.
-Husband-. Clucthing her globlet to her chest, Daera leans to a side, getting closer to him with a fun smile. At the moment of hearing that word coming from her lips, his smiled, and his body automatically leaned to hers too-. Pretend I say something funny-, she whispered, only for him to hear when she reached his ear.
The prince blinks, and inmediately lets out some chuckles while playing with his cutlery.
-Our plan is the same, aye? We shall not speak The Greens' name on this supper-. The princess dictates. Her husband nods and laughs, listening closely-. There are too many people in here, and we don't ken the half of them-. She pointed within a whisper, keeping a smile on her face, and caressing her goblet with a thumb-. Our aim lies in Cregan-, the silver-haired declares.
They got apart to see each other's faces, and smiled to each other, keeping appearances. Then, is the prince who leans back to her, who blinked rapidly with growing curiosity.
-He is testing us-, Jacaerys mumbled to her ears. It ashamed Daera having shivered when he spoke this close to her, but soon found interest in what he said.
-To what end?-. She asks in the middle of amused laughs, making the others to think they are just flirting and jesting; it is working indeed, for Lord Cerwyn raised his brows and sipped his wine with a smirk towards his lordly friend, both thinking that is quite obvious is hard to keep the spouses apart.
-He's placed us right in front of his people-. Jacaerys answered, with obviousness and a grin, glancing at her mouth and then at her eyes. That purple stares back at him while she nods with a curious smile, finding sense in his words-. A point of standing, wife-. He mumbled, cocking his head to a side.
Daera cocks her as well and, at the same time, they looked towards th commoners who eat and drink in the other tables. Things remain the same; they are constantly glancing and peeking at their visitors, scrutinizing them with cold eyes or murmuring with smiles, which could be both born from admiration or taunt.
The princess looked down and pressed a smile. Jacaerys read her expression with eyes as soft as clouds and a grin of sweet. When she looks up again, at him, she winked at him, and made her smile bigger. He was left smitten.
-My princes-, Lord Cregan called.
The calling brough their secret conversation to an end, and so both turned their heads to glance at him, looking easy and comfortable in their skins and furs. Let it not be denied; they are no less than priveleged princes of the realm. They are not intimidated by Lord Stark's people, which tells a lot to him.
-Yes, m' lord?-. Prince Jacaerys answers with manners, raising his brown brows.
-May I inquire as to why, with such a large family, only the two of you granted the North your presence?-. Cregan questioned, intrigued, narrowing his eyes as he cuts his meat. His family wondered the same thing, looking for answers from the princes.
-Ah, you see, as much as our family enjoys travels and journeys and tours, this time we could not allow ourselves the joy of parting all together, and leave our seat with no attend-. Princess Daera talks, with a sigh and a smile in the middle of her words, which they closely listened to.
-Oh-, Lord Cerwyn reacts with understanding, and his wife nodded while pouring herself water.
-The affairs of Dragonstone are endless, we must admit-. Prince Jacaerys rose his brows to the top of his head, and his cup to his mouth, delicately sipping from it.
-A task I am sure your family cares well to-. Lord Stark smiled, really tinyly, accepting the princes' answer, who nodded at him with kind smiles-. A shame, their business, but a toast to your visit-. He proposed, raising his cup.
-Cheers!-, princess Daera is quick to lift hers as well.
All in the table toasted to the princes, and then drank from their goblets. Rickon, with gladness, sipped the apple juice on his glass, soon getting a loving caress on his hair from his father. Daera stared at this with a smile, drinking silently.
While she tastes the wine, she allowed herself to close her eyes for a few seconds. Her traitorous mind placed the image on itself of Aemond smiling kindly, caressing the white mane of a faceless child, and then looking up at her with love. Suddenly, the wine on her tongue came to taste like Moon Tea.
Daera is quick to open her eyes and gulp the drink down, placing her cup back on the table. She shivered, and gulped once again, frightened by her own imagination, and haunted by her living memories.
Calmly tasting his wine, Jace eyes her with slight worriness, having noticed the unusual way she quickly put her drink away.
-And how large is that family of yours?-. The curious question from Sarah Snow made everyone in the table to look at her, though she headed her inquiry to the princes.
-Oh, well-. Daera cocks her head, and looks at Jace.
Lord Cerwyn leans to his friend, Cregan.
-I could never learn the Valyrian names, never!-. The vassal lord confesses in a heated whisper.
-Why?-, Cregan scrunches his nose with confusion.
Robard opened his eyes big.
-There's my mother Rhaenyra, and my brothers; Lucerys, Aegon, Viserys and Joffrey-. Jace starts to name with simplicity, looking at all of them-. My sisters are Daera, Baela and Rhaena. And my grandparents are Rhaenys, Corlys and King Viserys-. He names, ignoring the pain in his chest when mentioning the latter.
They start to blink slowly, taking all the similar names in. Cregan scratches his chin.
-You- you said Viserys two times, I think, prince-. Lord Robard points with doubt, narrowing his eyes.
-I know-, Jace shrugges.
-My father is Prince Daemon. And, there's also the second family of King Viserys with Alicent Hightower; Aegon, Aemond, Daeron and Helaena, whose children are called Jaehaerys and Jaehaera-. Daera keeps naming, playing with her fork and harshly forcing herself not to think too deep of those named.
-Two- two Aegon's, then?-. Sarah tilts her head slowly, not sure.
-Yes-, princess Daera nods simply, and the table shares confused gazes-. My mother was Lady Laena, sister to Laenor, of Rhaenys and Corlys-. She cared to add with a soft smile-. Ah, and there used to be a Vaemond-, she said on a whim.
-What?-, Lord Robard whispers while Cregan narrows his eyes.
-So...-, Lady Bolton blinks with slowness.
-So..., Lady Cerwyn does the same-. You have two Aegon's and two Viserys'?-. She asked.
-Correct-, Jace answers.
-And also princes -different princes- called "Daemon, Aemond, Aegon, Daeron and Vaemond"?-. She tries to follow.
-Exactly-, Daera nods with a smile. Stark and Cerwyn share a troubled look.
-And then "Baela, Laena, Rhaena and Daera"?-. Sarah Snow scratches the table as she wonders.
-Yes-, the princess confirms. Little Rickon blinks with confusion.
-"Jacaerys and Lucerys"?-, Lord Cerwyn pondered, lost.
-Me and my brother-, Jace smiles proudly.
-Jace and Luke, for friends-. Daera clarified, and Lady Bethany mouthed a confused "oh".
-"Daera and- and Daeron?"-. Lord Cregan tilts his head to a side.
-I'm better than him, but yes-, Daera shrugged.
-Then "Rhaenyra, Rhaena and Rhaenys"?-, Cerwyn keeps asking.
-Honored ladies-. Jacaerys smirked.
-"Laena and Laenor"? "Jaehaerys and Jaehaera"?-, Sarah narrows her eyes.
-Matching names for siblings are welcomed-. The princess answers with easiness.
-And...-Cregan narrows his eyes-...then, suddenly...-, he looks around-..."Joffrey"?-. He asked, highly confused.
-We went original with that one-. Jacaerys answered with total pride, shrugging, and Daera clapped at him.
The whole table is left with confused eyes and expressions, pretending that they understood.
-That's why!-. Lord Cerwyn whispered to Cregan, who sighed and closed his eyes while shaking his head, defeated-. Well!-. He suddenly raises his cup to the table-. Here's for learning all those names some day!-. He light-hearted joked.
And, though some would take the jest as an offense to the crown, the princes Daera and Jace understood his humor and laughed along everyone else, raising their cups and accepting the toast with gladness, which gave a good impression of them to the ones looking.
The time kept passing with easiness, as well as the supper. The food is delicious, to not say wonderful, and the wine gives the meat an almost sweet taste, melting it in the eaters' mouth, making them feel the comfort of a home-like meal.
Princess Daera is one that enjoys the wine over all. Constantly sipping and asking for refills, she can't help but to sometimes lose herself on her own mind. The red liquid on the cup has slowly started to make her body feel loose, and her thoughts restriction-less; a shame, for they are made of glum.
She has a million and one questions.
Is Luke home already? How is my grandmother, Rhaenys, doing? She tiredly flies and escorts the shipping galleons of the Vlearyon fleet. Is Rhaenyra crying, as we speak, mourning Viserys and Visenya? Is her father? How are Baela and Rhaena? What news from King's Landing, in the Black Council? How is Helaena doing? How are the children? Do they all miss me, as I miss them? Is Aemond coming to his senses, maybe, as he thinks of me? Is Aegon seating the throne right now? Is Alicent spitting on Viserys' corpse?
Even stupid questions; Will I ever go to Pentos again? Will it be with Aemond at my side, again? Will I ever be able to carry his child, at the end? Do I still want to? Do I hate my husband? Is he still my husband?
Daera licks her lips, pressing them strongly, and looking down, mentally screaming to her mind to shut up, if that makes sense.
-Pardon me, would someone be to kind as to show me a privy?-. The voice of Jace echoing in her ears brought her back to reality, and to the table.
The princess lifts up her head, eyeing the surrounding withing a second. She pretended she didn't notice Lord Cregan's curious cold eyes on her, which he didn't care to conceal.
-Right outside, to your right, my prince-. Lady Bolton answered with kindness, pointing towards the gates of the hall.
-Thank you very much-. Jace smirks, placing his hands on the table as he stands up-. My lords, my ladies-. He mannerly nodded towards everyone, who allowed his leaving with silent gestures. Sarah Snow, perhaps, looked at him for longer-. Wife-, he mumbles, looking at Daera over his shoulder.
The brown-skinned princess pursed her lips into a upturned smirk, eyeing him from head to toe whilst she nodded. Her husband licked his lips, and left the table with a smile, following the path the Lady of the North pointed beforewards.
Daera takes a breath and and, before Lord Stark could ask her about her prior silence she knows he noticed, she turned to him with a bright smile, and easy eyes.
-Exquisite supper, my Lord, this one-. Daera congratulated, rising her brows. The lord sides a smirk, eyeing her empty plate.
-Your kind words belong to the cooks, princess, I am afraid-. Cregan answered mannerly.
-Ah-, she smiled bigger.
-I only did the deed of hunting the rabbits myself-. He did confessed, opening a hand on the table.
-My congratulations to both the hunter and the cooks, then-. The princess pressed an amused smirk, cocking her head. That brought a laugh out from Cregan's chest, of what she felt proud of.
In total silence, and without excusing herself, the Snow girl stood up from the table, and left with no word, heading to the hall's exit. Her discreet leaving was cautiosly stared at by princess Daera, who blinked with slowness and stared at the two empty seats of the table.
The silver-haired sips of her wine, and her purple eyes gained that bright that has won her the soubriquet of Rogue Princess.
Meanwhile, on the outsides of the dining hall, Jacaerys walked out of the privy chamber after having found it with success. He rubs his hands fastly as he blows his hot breath into them.
-Gods-, he hisses, not believing the great temperature difference there is between the hall and the outdoors. Human heat is not a maester's tale, he is sure.
Before he could make his way back to the dining room, he is surprised by the presence of Lord Cregan's half sister, Sara Snow, who suddenly closed the doors behind her and, strangely, did not get surprise when seeing him, as if she had been looking forward to it.
-Oh, my lady-. Jace is quick to salute, still rubbing his hands, and giving a quick look around. Whilst everyone dines, there is only a handful of posted guards around.
-My prince-. She smirked at him, nearing with slow steps, calculating her proximity. Blinking softly under some curls of his brown hair the wind is blowing, he looks at her with interest-. Cold?-, she asks, looking for a moment to his repeating moves of hand.
-Oh, quite-. He gently chuckles, and she copied him, now standing in front of him-. I am afraid I am not very used to snow, and what it brings with it-. The prince confesses, red-cheeked.
-The hall inside is warmer, indeed, but I do think here is better and quieter to speak-. Sarah pointed, briefly shrugging while looking at him. Meanwhile, Jace grins while he studies his surrounding; everywhere he looks is covered by white-. Would you not agree, my prince?-. She tilts her head to a side, as to reach for his gaze.
-It is indeed beautiful, I will not deny it-. Jacaerys answered with an admiring tone, narrowing his eyes while he stares at the light falling snow. He clears his throat, and finally looks at her, which she cheered with a pressed smile-. Your household is unique beauty-, he flattered.
Sarah Snow, smitten and enamored of the prince's undeniable handsomeness, wished to believe that the flatter was for her, and not for Winterfell alone.
-You are too kind for a prince-, the girl dares to comment, smiley. Jacaerys narrowed his eyes, quite surprised with her sudden statement.
-Do you know many princes, my lady?-. The brown-eyed asks with a curious smirk growing between his lips.
-Uh, well...I do not-. Sarah clears her throat with a smile, and the prince giggled with easiness, nodding towards her-. But I have heard of some-. She confessed, raising a finger-. I have heard of a one-eyed, whose is said to have a cursed stare, and another whose dragon is a blood wyrm, as red as the leaves of a Weirwood-. The girl speaks with a low and slow tone, more concentrated on the prince's look than her own words.
Jacaerys smiles with his lips closed, looking down and nodding for a few moments. He knows she's heard, apparently, of Aemond and Daemon. He does not even want to speak Aemond's name outloud, nor even in his mind so, completely ignoring the mention of a one-eyed, the prince speaks of the other prince.
-Caraxes-. He named confidently, looking up again. Confusion stole the girl's frown when hearing that strange word-. The Blood Wyrm; he's the dragon prince Daemon, my wife's father-. Jace quickly clarifies, rising his brows.
Sarah scrunches her lips when she is recalled that, sadly, the prince is not free to court.
-Your sister-. The northern girl nodded, her words filled of a subtled dismiss. Jace breathes in, lightly furrowing his brows.
-His wife-. It was stressed, but not by Jace's voice, but by his very wife's.
The two brown-haired turned their heads around, the prince with surprise and the girl with a sudden shame, for she has been discovered flirting with the prince by the "sister-wife" of him.
Daera stands at the entry of the hallway with a relaxed posture, her left shoulder resting on a wall and her arms crossed over her chest. An easy expression owns her face, staring at the both of them with no stress at all. She supposed her mere presence would make the girl to step back; she was right.
Snow looked back at those penetrating purple eyes of the princess, who glared at her with a ever so silent menace, not needing words to express her desire of wanting her away from her husband.
-Princess-. Sarah bows her head and, within a second, starts to walk apart from him.
-Hmm-. The purple eyed hummed, gifting her a small smile when Sarah walked past her without looking up again.
Never too fluent in the language of girls, Jacaerys just assumed the girl cought cold and stepped inside.
He sides a smile, looking at his wife. She, arms crossed, looks back at him with eyes that began to shine with taunt, especially when she saw the embarrasment on her eyes.
-Curious girl-, he gently commented about Sarah.
-She wants to fuck you, Jace-. A scoff quickly leaves Daera's lips, and a gasp came from Jace's.
-Wha- what?-. He stutters, feeling his cheeks starting to burn.
-Keep up, brother-. Daera snaps her fingers tauntly, approaching to him with loose steps and cocky shoulders. He gulps, shaking his head-. She followed you as soon as you stepped out of the supper, looked forward to keep you away from it and, uh, she wa already fucking you with her eyes-. She explains with no shame, shrugging.
-Seven hells-. Blushed, he briefly rolls his eyes, not believeing he did catch those signs. His wife, now standing in front of him, smiled, almost moved.
The princess reads his face, silently. Having hers so near, he did the same, slowly closing his lips, and allowing his eyes to wander around her beautiful factions, both lighted by the torches around, and by his gaze's own shine.
-We are the Queen's envoys-. Daera recalls within a whisper. She rises a hand, taking some of Jace's curls into her fingers, and caressing them. The prince hums lowly, almost melting before her tender touch-. No distractions-, she lifted her brows, almost funnily.
-None?-, Jacaerys' mumble almost sounded like a complain, especially with his silly eyes and growing smirk making company to his loose tone.
The princess smiles silently, keeping on with her slow fondling on his brown hair. Suddenly, they catch the sound of approaching steps.
-My princes!-. A cocky tone of Sarah Snow from another hallway made Daera's eyes go blank-. My brother wishes to know if you would like to...!-
The Rogue Princess turned her hand into a fist in the mane of the prince, and pulled him to her within a second. With this, their lips clashed, their noses pinched each other, and their breaths became one.
When Sarah turned and came into the hallway, the rest of her words were stolen by a gasp when she encountered with the very intimate image of the spouses sharing a kiss, alone and in the dark. Her mouth fell open; she failed at gaining back the prince's attention.
This one is very much melting. Having forgotten of any cold he has ever felt in his life, Jace hums as he is vividly kissed by fire. He closes his eyes strongly, and grabs a side of her face to return such dear gesture with the passion it deserves.
In the middle of the kiss, Daera smirked, sighed, and came to break it when the girl took them by "surprise".
-Our apologies!-. Still holding her husband's hair, the princess turns her head around with fake startle. From the entry of the hallway, Sarah gulps, looking over the silver-haired's shoulders at the silly and enamored expression the prince stares at his wife with; eyes of fire, and desire for more-. Yes?-, she smiles innocently.
-My brother, Lord Cregan, wants to make you know that dessert is being served now, my princes-. The bastard girl spoke with a proper respect, sighing through her nose.
-Wonderful-. Daera's cocky voice answered within a second. She feels Jace's hand holding one of her cheeks still, warmly.
-We shall be there in no time!-. Prince Jacaerys announced with a firm voice, barely glancing towards the girl. Daera turns back to him, with dark eyes of satisfaction.
-My princes-. Sarah nods and, with nothing more, she leaves them alone again, for it is obvious they need it.
Daera licks her lips, staring at Jace. His chest comes up and down. He placed his other hand on her other cheek, now holding both. And now is prince Jacaerys who started a kiss with his wife, granting it to her with burning passion, almost hunger.
It gladdens us to say that, this time, she lost all power. The princess' knees shook, and her breathing trembled when receiving such a heated kiss from Jace. She melts on his hands, surrending to his dedicated lips and strong grip. She felt so dear, and desired; how she missed that.
They fight with their lips, though such a fight would be more considered an expression of desperate yearning than a figh. Both of them sigh, almost moaning, holding the other's face while they find craving in the other's mouth.
An image of Aemond flashed before her closed eyes. She imagined him seeing this, heart broken and bemused. When this happens, she quickly stepped away from the brown-haired.
They breath rapidly, staring at each other's eyes while they feel their lips burning. He gulped, only to breath even faster, briefly shaking his head.
She pictured and imagined, again, Aemond heart-broken because of her treason, because of her desire for Jace. When picturing it one more time, the princess shook her head, did not understand why she stepped away in the first place, and walked back to him.
Daera grabbed his neck from behind, and locked her lips with his again. Jacaerys grunted, so pleased when this happened. He answered ths kiss, holding her waist with both hands, scrunching its smallness. That took out a chucke from her, and gained him a bit on his inferior lip.
-Jace-, she named with passion.
Their lips meet, time after time, kissing with endless desire and hunger, as if their tums were not already full. He did not miss his hands when he lost them into her curly white mane, and she did not hold a moan when feeling his pants starting to poke on her.
-Wait, wait!-. Jacaerys suddenly breaks the kiss, causing the princess to tsk. He breathes deeply-. We- we must not insult Lord Stark; we must return, Daera-. He spoke with his eyes closed; only like this he wouldn't fall again into her charm, though he would be delighted.
-Oh-, Daera blinks hugely, quickly finding sense in his words-. Yes, yes, you are right-. She breathes in deeply, rising a hand to caress his hot nose, and then his wet inferior lip. He starts to smile, holding her gaze once again-. Dessert, right?-. The princess smiles tauntly, winking.
Moments then, everyone welcomed back the princes, who took their seats with calmed and kind smiles. They commented about the cold weather outside, as to why Jacaerys hugged himself with his cape.
They perfectly hid their fast breaths, and Jace's crotch.
•••
When the night befell on Dragonstone, and it was now the moon’s turn to witness its sadness and grieving, and not longer the sun’s, all the posted guards of the island looked up when hearing a loud and sharp screeching echoing from the clouds.
Soon, Caraxes and Moondancher appeared soaring in the skies, bothquickly and almost desperately flying towards the castle. Many looks from the land grew confused and worried, for there had been three dragons that left Dragonstone in the early morning; now, only two are returning.
The Black Queen and her yellow mount, Syrax, are nowhere to be seen.
Whilst The Red Wyrm flew down, Moondancer’s light green body raised higher in the skies, now flying about the castle, soaring and roaring, as if protecting the surroundings with jealousy and rage and nerves; all that she is feeling for her rider, Baela.
Princess Baela, who goes fainted and pale, on her father’s tense arms.
Caraxes landed harshly and quickly into the caves of Dragonstone, shrieking as his rider dismounted him faster than ever. The Dragonkeepers and the guards around stepped back, not having expected the prince to arrive with such a worried glum casted on his frowns. Much less they were expecting to see princess Baela’s loose body carried by him.
-Ābrazȳrys! (Princess!)-. A gasp escapes one of the dragonkeepers’ mouth.
In the castle, everything was quiet and silent.
The princes in it, however, did not took lightly the heated emotions they saw the dragons arriving with. Quick and quicker, Rhaena goes hand-held to Joffrey, who got away from the midwives and his baby brothers, and now runs with her older sister, the both of them worried and alerted. With them, their Sworn Protectors.
Daemon’s legs go fast too, and started to go faster when he came out from the library that connects to the dragon caves. Baela’s white mane endlessly bounces due to her father’s quick steps. Red-faced and anxious, The Rogue Prince enters a long hallway with haste and fury.
-GERARDYS!-. From a moment to another, his sharp voice cuts the wind and the silence, travelling through the halls of the castle-. GERARDYS, QUICKLY!-. He calls once and again, shouting with no care.
Rhaena and Joffrey appeared on his vision when they turned on a hallway, and both their faces dyed with total fright when they saw a pale Baela carried by their father.
-SISTER!-, Rhaena squealed, running faster.
-BAELA!-. Joffrey let go her hand, approaching quicker while feeling tears gathering in his eyes. Daemon pressed his lips, breathing anxiously when listening to the kids’ broken voices. They thought the same thing, prisoners of fear; not another one.
-FUCKING…!-. Prince Daemon was about to call Gerardys’ name again, but he shut himself up when he saw the Grand Maester arriving from the same hallway the children did.
-My prince!-. Maester Gerardys runs as fast as he can and, with him, Ser Erryk and Ser Lorent go fastly, going pale when seeing the princess’ condition-. In there, quickly!-. While still running, he pointed to closed doors; his office.
Daemon growled, walking quicker. Rhaena and Joffrey, in the middle of sobs, opened the doors with haste, stepping aside as soon as their father came in with red eyes and ears, fastly followed by the Maester and the guards.
-You can place her here!-. Gerardys spoke with hurry, opening his palms on a bed of stone that lays in the middle of his office. Not waiting for nothing else, Daemon swiftly placed his middle daughter on the rock, carefully holding her head when doing so.
Maester Gerardys instantly starts to examine her all, touching her arms, forehead and throat with an opened attentive gaze. By his side, Ser Erryk’s chest comes up and down, and stares at the girl with eyes of concern. This is his the sister of the princess he is sworn too; what kind of a protector he is, if she comes back to find a dead brother and a wounded sister?, he wonders.
-What happened?-, a sobbing Rhaena holds to her father’s arm, not driving her gaze away from her sister, as neither Joffrey is.
-She’s weak, give her- give her something!-. Prince Daemon speaks to the Maester with an acute and sharp tone that edges in worriness and nerves, clenching his fists to the sides.
-She’s just asleep!-. Gerardys’ diagnosis of the princess brought everyone their breaths back. The little Joffrey whines, holding one of Baela’s hand with a tight grip. Ser Erryk gulped looking down, and Rhaena sobbed when resting her forehead on her father’s arm, who remains as tense as before-. The princess is rather drained, however; sleep and some ale for her is of the essence-. He raises his brows, looking at the father, who grunted between his clenched lips.
Rhaena breathes shakily; her sweated forehead dances on her father’s arm. He looks down at her, gulping, and so she looks up at him. Her dry lips are parted, her cheeks wet, and her eyes filled with a sorrowing hope that brought dagger to the prince’s heart.
-…Luke?-, his daughter whispers, deeply wanting to know. Something, anything! But, alas, he posses nothing but the same knowledge as when they parted for Lucerys’ “rescue”: he is dead-. Did you…?-, she leaves her words in the air, grasping his arm, and expecting for an answer.
Daemon clenches his lips, closes his tired eyes and, with not a word, walks away from her grip and gaze, giving her his back when he turned to face the open doors of the rooms with a teary face.
-Father?!-. Desperate, Rhaena insisted, yelling to his slouched back. Holding Baela’s hand, Joffrey’s red nose sobs and expects for information too, though it never came.
-Dad?-. The little boy dared to insist, his voice broken and thin.
His children’s cries brought prince Daemon’s face down. Wordless, he looked down, grasping his sword’s handle with his sweaty words. And, though Joffrey did not understand his silence, Rhaena did, and it only demolished her furthermore.
The youngest princess lost all strength in her legs. She fell on the floor, kneeled, and broke herself in a mute deep cry, holding her own chest, and melting the stone floor with her salted tears. Joffrey started to cry when he saw her, and Maester Gerardys looked down with shame, caressing princess Baela’s sweaty hair.
Ser Erryk curved his brows, staring at the weeping princess with all the sadness of the world, but none greater than hers.
Rhaena sobs and sobs, time after time, shaking her head and staring at the floor while she does, finding no air in her lungs, nor will to keep living in this world of injustice and misery and murderers.
-Luke!-, she cried her betrothed’s name. Her brother’s. Their brother.
She should have never let him go.
New steps arrive to Maester Gerardys’ office, but no one but prince Daemon paid great attention to that. When the Rogue Prince looks up, he finds his cousin arriving with trembling feet and an afflicted throat. Heart-broken, Rhaenys arrives from just learning the death of her grandchild, Lucerys Velaryon.
The Queen Who Never Was stopped walking when finding one granddaughter fainted, and other crying on the floor. Opening her eyes widely, Rhaenys looked at Daemon for barely three seconds. He looked back at her with eyes of hatred and grief, blinkless.
Her armour clinked due to the sudden moves she made when she herself kneeled on the floor, and went to coo Rhaena on her chest. The girl cries harder, hugging herself to her grandma in the middle of her endless weeping. Prince Joffrey approached with hasty steps when his grandma also raised a hand to him.
Rhaenys hugged Joffrey’s head to her neck, and Rhaena’s to her chest, the both of them whining, sobbing and crying with no apparent thought of stopping anytime soon. The princess held them well, for she is no strange to the sound of the broken.
Princess Rhaenys pressed her trembling lips, being strong for them, while Prince Daemon remained apart and stiff, crying in his own silence and solitude, with no one here to coo him too.
•••
When the hour grew late, and all the plates were emptied and the bellies sated, the dinner at that great hall came to an end.
After such an inviting supper with the Starks and most of their friends, princes Daera and Jacaerys are being escorted back to their rooms, and by no one else that the very Lord Stark himself, who did not find bother in heading his visitors back to their assigned chamber.
The three of them walk together through the hallways, silent and comfortable, listening to the differents sounds of the castle, from children giggling and running, to the snowstorm outside the gates.
Princess Daera believes that the wine she drank may have played a part in the way she feels, for she feels good. Her steps are light and her face shines as bright as day, which has not ben the case in a time, as we well now. Under the influence of the red delight, she's confessed herself to like walking in this new place.
Soon, they at last reached their apartments, which made Jace to internally sigh, not knowing what were to happen for the rest of the night; he's not sleepy.
-We're here!-. The princess laughs with excitement, opening the door herself. Her husband watches her with a smile, whilst the lord also grined a little, looking at her white bouncing curls-. Lord Stark-, she turns to look at him, stepping backwards into the room-. Thank you so much for tonight, it was lovely-. She politely smiled to him.
-It was my complete honor, princess-. Cregan nods mannerly to her, with his hands crossed on his abdomen-. I expect you have a very good night-. He lightly smirked, sideways, revealing a dimple.
-I wish the same for you, m' lord-. Daera kindly said, cocking her head and, lastly, turning around to fully enter the room, leaving the men behind.
This left Jacaerys and Cregan standing at the doors. They look at each other, with the seriousness of gentlemen but also with the ease of two simple men.
-It is of my place as well to thank you for the supper, Lord Cregan-. Prince Jacaerys speaks with honesty, raising his brows-. After a long flight, such a good meal and its gracious host were welcomed by my wife and yself-. He smiles, with his hands behind his back.
-An achieved goal of mine-. Lord Stark smiled in a most graceful way, nodding to him-. May I inquiere how long you intend to stay in Winterfell, my prince? I wish only to ensure that your accommodations are met in the finest manner-. He lightly raised his brows, curious.
-We will not last long, my Lord-. Jace answered with no trouble, briefly sighing and then taking air-. Once the princess and I treat an important matter we brought to you, we may as well be leaving Winterfell-. He said, pressing his lips for some moments, as if thinking what comes after leaving.
-I understand-. An interest tone placed itself on the lord's voice as well as in his gaze, already knowing the princes were not here on the solemn sake of respite from their royal duties-. We may see to it on the morrow, after you've had a proper breakfast-. He proposed, slowly tilting his head.
-A most fair idea, my lord-. Prince Jacaerys nods with a smile and, just because, he glances sideways to the chambers.
With this, his jaw almost met the cold floor when realizing that Daera was getting changed behind the noble folding partition of the room. He cannot see her, for that's the partition's purpose, but he can see her brown fancy hands handing the dress on the folding.
-Gods be good-. He couldn't help himself from mumble, quickly taking the door's handle, and closing it a little bit more, giving her further privacy. Lord Cregan narrows his eyes, curious for his mumbling-. Well, we- we'll see you on the morrow, then, my lord-. He formally smiles, gulping.
-Indeed-, Cregan mumbles. He looks sideways to the chambers, still interested.
Thoughtful, Jace gulps, and cocked his head with pretended desinterest.
-And, just so that we are clear, uh...We only have one chamber for the both of us, correct?-. He narrows his brown eyes as well, pointing towards the room with his head.
-I only thought, my prince; you are married-. Cregan is quick to answer, never changing the interested and almost amused expression from his face-. Would you like another chamber, different to your wife's?-, he questions, his back slouched.
-No no no no-. Jacaerys rapidly shook his head, taking the door's handle again. Stark nods with his eyes hugely opened-. That will not be of need, thank you, my lord-. He quickly smiles.
-Whatever you wish, my prince-. Lord Cregan noded, fighting to not laugh, and already planning on telling the tale to Lord Robard-. Have a good night-. He takes a step back.
-You as well, Lord Cregan-. Prince Jacaerys nods to him, politely.
Then, the doors are closed, and the prince locked them from the inside.
When he turns around, he finds Daera coming out from behind the partition. He breathes in deeply, seeing that she's changed herself to a bathing robe of brown silk she brought from home. He soon came to know, by what clothes hang in the noble folding, that his wife is wearing not even undergarments, below that robe.
Knowing this, and adding the fact that she was approaching him with a mischievous smile and slow steps that seemed almost dragon-like, it was difficult for the prince to maintain a serious posture, or pure thoughts.
-Can I unsheathe your sword?-. Daera asks within a mumble when she stood right in front of him.
-I- I beg your pardon?-. Jacaerys almost chokes with his own saliva.
-For protection-. She hugely smiles, unsheathing herself his sword from his belt. The sound made him shiver, and the view of her made him hot. Amused, she walks around him and heads to the doors. He turns only his head, looking at her.
Daera crosses the sword between the door handles, giving them more security in addition to the lock. If anyone tried to force the door open, the sword would stop them and, moreover, warn the princes in time.
-One never knows-, she shrugs, playful, heading back to him.
Jacaerys sighs and stares forward again, playing with his clenched fists, thinking 'bout how dumb it was for him to misunderstand her prior question. The heated moment they shared outside the dining hall seem to have left some desires in the prince.
He looks down, slowly sucking his inferior lip. Watching him as an animal does his prey, the princess walked behind him with no hurry, staring at his brown curls and how his shoulders come up and down. His expression is a expecting one, and her eyes are dark.
-You are just like your father-. Jace commented while shaking his head, eyeing the sword across the doors.
-Prettier, I hope-. She tauntly mumbled, making him laugh. Daera smiles at him, keeping on with her path-. I will take a bath, now-. The princess informed.
The prince is quick to both imagine that and then blush.
-Very well-, he nods within a second, clearing his throat-. I shall close my eyes, then, or- or I may step out to the balcony as well, to give you privacy-. The prince propposes, opening his hand and speaking fast.
-No need of either-. The princess funnily said, and she herself started to drag the noble folding partition the washroom of the chambers.
-Oh!-. Understanding her idea, he fastly went for her aid, helping her to drag the partition-. Very well-, he mumbles, looking to the wooden bathtub, and the steaming water on it. Lord Cregan did mention, on their way to the chambers, that he had ordered the servants to ready some buckets of warm water for the princes.
Seconds later, they had placed the noble partition in front of the washroom, giving perfect privacy to anyone on it. After his wife thanked him with a smile, he ran his hands over his pants, and stepped away.
He soon finds seat on the bed. So, he seats, and he ends up facing completely to the washroom, which made him gulp. He stares there with no stop, though he knows he should, but doesn't want to. The prince scratches his thigh, and then he sees her bath robe being hanged on the folding.
Jacaerys clenches his hands nervously on the mattress, gulping once again before the limited view but his limit-less thoughts and wishes. He forces himself to remind he is a gentleman. What is this he's thinking?
-When did you pour the water in?-. Prince Jace questions, trying to wander away from his mind.
-When you were looking into Lord Cregan's eyes-. The princess' burlesque and funny voice answered. He rolled his eyes from the bed, laughing.
The brown-haired prince smiles, looking down. He sees, under the partition, her bare feet heading to the bathtub. Jace clenches his lips, then licking them. Then, he listens to the water accepting someone in it. The sound alone made him breathless.
-Gods be good-, he whispered, forcing himself to close his eyes.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, mentions of murder and death, angst and grief, parental abuse, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated
•••
《 Aemond "The Kinslayer" 》
•••
In King’s Landing, The Hour of the Ghosts has been calm and silent, so far. Most of the servants sleep, the royals sleep. The only ones who should not be sleeping, at these late hours, are the guards and knights protecting The Red Keep.
Nevertheless, it seems as to this is not of Queen Helaena’s knowledge.
The new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is restless, even though she has her nightdress on and is covered by the warm sheets of her bed. There’s a lonely and weak candle to the right, with a thin fire flame dancing around.
Whilst this fire is reflected on her purple eyes, they are looking at one side of the rooms. To the left of it, her children sleep in their respective cradles. They are quiet and easy, as they always sleep; she can hear their breathing from her place.
Blinkless, Helaena thinks of the fact that they are a year already. They are indeed growing fast, as Claudia told her not long ago. Their legs are longer each day, as well as their white hair and arms. Her children are a bless and a marvel, and beautiful, and hers.
Helaena is yet to wonder and question what the future has for them both, and for the one that now is growing in her belly. But, before she could start wondering about it, she heard two knockings on the door of her chambers.
The Queen parts her lips, immediately taking a seat in her bed. She looks at the door with blinkless eyes, slowly standing up. The girl looks down, the shadow the stands firmly from the other side.
She clenches her teeth, feeling her chest beating fastly while, with slowness, she approaches to the children’s cradles.
-Your Grace!-, she heard a feminine voice calling her. Helaena stops, opening her eyes when she recognized Claudia’s voice.
She let out a big sigh, placing her hands on her chest, and turning to look at her kids.
-You may come!-, her tender voice answered seconds then.
Her main maiden, Claudia, entered to the room, finding her standing in the middle of the room, in front of the cradles of the sleeping children. Ignoring her confusion as to not finding her in her bed, giving the hours, the servant woman spoke.
-Your Grace-, she bowed her head. Helaena looks at her with attentive eyes, blinkless-. Your brother, prince Aemond, has arrived from his errand-. She informed with a still voice.
The Queen feels her chest becoming heavy, as soon as Aemond came to her mind. She meets her fingers over her belly, clenching them with nerves. She remembers the feeling when she saw him off to Storm’s End, and now she’s feeling again. A great uneasiness.
-He has asked for your presence, and that of your family, in your mother’s bedchambers, my Queen-. Claudia informed with a soft whisper, looking at her.
Helaena raises her brows, and open her eyes big, moving them across the room with affliction and confusion.
-Why?-, she simply asked, almost looking as if she didn’t want to.
-I cannot say, Your Grace-. Claudia confessed, not understanding either the sudden reunion on the Queen Dowager’s apartments-. I can stay with the children, if you wish me to-. She proposed, raising her brows.
Helaena wrinkles her lips, looking at them while caressing her nightdress with her soft hands. She started to nod, agreeing with her lady in waiting.
-Please do-, the Queen whispers softly, starting to walk towards the doors. Claudia nods, completely entering to the room-. Beware the rats-. Helaena said while she walked, placing a hand on one of her elbows.
Claudia shivered when the Queen touched her, and furrowed her brows when hearing the weird order. When she turned her head around, she found the Queen already out of the chambers, having left her alone with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.
•••
Prince Aemond’s requirements were soon communicated to all of his family. It was just matter of minutes until his whole family was gathered at the rooms of Dowager Queen Alicent.
Ser Criston stands firmly outside the chamber’s gates, guarding the family from his place.
Inside, Otto stands near the doors, looking at the fireplace with blinkless tired eyes. He looks thoughtful and awaken, as if it wasn’t later than the middle of the night. Alicent plays with her fingers in the middle of the room, constantly looking at the ceiling or at the floor. It looks like she’s praying, and never can leave her eyes in only one place while doing so.
Aegon is sitting in one comfortable chair, with his head resting in his hands; he’s half sleep and half awaken, snoring softly with one eye open and the other closed. Daeron stands the closest to his mother, two steps behind her; he’s constantly scratching his eyes and silently yawning, the young prince is tired and was having just a perfect sleep before Ser Criston came to awake him on his rooms.
Queen Helaena stands as far as possible from her husband, in the other side of the room. She’s hugging herself, never speaking and blinking just sometimes., She has just the worst feeling on her chest, making it heavy.
But nothing as heavy as Prince Aemond’s conscious.
The One-Eyed Prince walks Maegor’s Holdfast, taking slow steps while he is on his way to his mother’s bedchambers, where he knows he’s family is waiting for him, just as he asked for.
Though his steps are slow, our prince’s heart beats fastly and with no control; is the only thing he’s listening to right now, almost louder than his thoughts.
He knows what he’s going to say, he just wants to delay it as much as possible, hence his slow steps. “Storm’s End is ours”, he’ll say to them. “And so is the wrath that will come from our enemies, The Blacks”, he’ll then proceed. “I killed Lucerys”, he’ll answered when being asked why.
“Because I wanted to”.
Ser Criston turns his head when the slim tall figure of Prince Aemond turned a corner and appeared walking in the hall.
When Cole saw Queen Alicent’s son walking into the hallway, back from his trip at Storm’s End, safe and sound, he thanked the Seven Gods, but kept his joy to himself.
The knight, blinkless, grabs the door’s handles, and nods towards him.
-My prince-, he greeted, trying to find his only eye, but this was in the floor since he started to walk towards him.
-Ser Criston-. Prince Aemond saluted with a hoarse and low voice.
Cole blinks one time, briefly parting his lips, noticing something off from the prince. A second then, he pulled the doors, and opened them for him. The entire royal family immediately turned their heads towards there.
When Aemond entered the room, he finally looked up. Everything felt like slow motion to him, all of a sudden.
Ser Criston closed the doors behind them, now inside the room too. Otto looked away from the fireplace with expectance. Aegon woke up, breathing deeply and raising his brows, kind of uninterested. Daeron sided a small smile, wavering a hand towards his brother. Helaena wrinkled her lips and remains blinkless; looking like she already knows what he did.
Aemond looks at his sister with his throat afflicted, and gulped, looking forward. And, in slow motion too, he saw his mother, the lady Alicent, sighing with relieve, and staring at him with a growing smile and hands that wanted to hold his.
-Aemond-. Alicent sighs, approaching to him.
Everything moves normally again for the one-eyed. He surrounded his mom’s body with his arms, and gave her a hug that, for his liking, ended too quickly. She stepped back, with raised brows, sighing again.
-Mother-, he whispers, slowly.
-What news of Storm’s End, grandson?-. The Hand of the King didn’t wait for any more greetings, going directly to the point. That made Aemond to furrows his lips, and his family to look at him with interest.
Aegon chews his lips, hiding a yawn between them. Aemond looks at them, and slowly opens his mouth, heading his eye towards his brother, who briefly raised his brows towards him, waiting.
-…Storm’s End is yours-. Prince Aemond declared, with tones as calmed as summer winds.
In that moment, a cheering sigh left Alicent’s mouth. A sided smiled crossed The Hand’s mouth, who nodded with pride towards his grandson.
King Aegon opened his palms, and a smile.
-Well!-, he cheers, giving an applause. Helaena flinched in her place, pressing her lips. Daeron smiles, excited for their notable winning-. They were wise enough, then-. Aegon says with pride and taunt.
-Yes-. Aemond agreed with a low tone, nodding. Helaena stares at him with no end, from feet to toe-. I shall marry the Lady Ellyn Baratheon, Lord Borros’ youngest daughter-. He informed; no joy or hope on his voice.
-Very well-, Otto nodded with pride. Alicent breathes in, forming a smile.
-She must be delightful, son-. The Dowager Queen says with politeness, actually not knowing a single thing about the chosen lady, but she’ll do for her son, she’s sure.
-Lord Borros will send a handful of his men, and by the end of the moon they’ll be established here, in King’s Landing-. Aemond informs with a monotone voice, looking at the Hand, who goes nodding while he speaks-. Three hundred knights, and forty crossbow man-. He starts to count. The King yawns again, rolling his eyes blank-. He’ll agreed to even send smiths, and a dozen-
-These numbers could have perfectly waited for the morrow-. Aegon interrupted him with a lazy voice. Everybody looked at him; Alicent blinked tiredly-. Why couldn’t you wait? Does promise of sleep scare you?-, he makes fun of him, snorting and rolling his eyes.
Aemond presses his lips, softly, taking air with slowness. He blinks, one single time, and feels his heart gaining more weight when he realized that it is time.
-I gathered you here because I wanted you to hear it from me, first than from anyone else-. Aemond speaks with easiness, never blinking, and looking at all of them.
Confusion immediately appeared in their faces, not understanding.
-The knights to come?-. Alicent wondered, siding a smile for a second. He stares at his mother with an expanded pupil-. Well, who else was to tell us if not you, son?-. She questions, honestly puzzled.
Helaena feels her chest beating heavily while she stares at her brother, who tightly crossed his arms behind his back.
-One of the bastards showed up in Storm’s End as well-. He informed with a still voice. Aegon parted his lips, slowly sitting straight on the chair. Alicent opens her eyes big, surprised, and Otto narrowed his, taking slow steps forward-. The small one-. He says.
-Joffrey?-, Daeron furrowed his brows.
-Lucerys-. Otto named within a second.
-Him-. Aemond nodded, blinkless. Alicent’s eyes got a little bigger, staring at him whilst her lips parted-. He was sent to Storm’s End as well, to proclaim his fake queen mother’s words-. He speaks with serenity, blinking, and nailing his only eye on the floor.
Ser Criston, standing by the doors, stares at him with a really curious gaze. Daeron bopped his head to a side, thinking of his half sister’s middle son, the shy one Luke.
-And…-, one of Alicent’s hands starts to reach her own clavicle, grasping it with anxiousness whilst she remembers the clear hate her maimed son has for Rhaenyra’s children, specially the one who maimed him in the first place-…what happened?-, the Dowager Queen smiles crookedly, fearing the answer to her question.
Everybody looks at Aemond, who remained completely silent. He just blinks, only one time, looking at the floor, knowing that his coming words would change a lot of things. He doesn’t know, though, in would in fact change all things.
He thinks of his wife, of how her reaction may be when she hears of the news, which she inevitably will do. He thinks of his family’s reactions. He imagined both their reaction when being told that “he did it accidentally”, making him stand as an idiot, or being told that “he did it on purpose”, making him to stand as a heartless kinslayer.
Things have happened. There’s no way back. He has to choose which way he’ll confess his murder; it will not be the one that will leave him standing like the Targaryen who rides the largest dragon in the world but, alas, couldn’t stop from killing a flea and his teenage dragon.
-I treated the bastard as he deserved to be treated-. The One-Eyed Prince speaks with a calmed voice, yet so bone-chilling, that it sent vibration through Alicent and Helaena’s spines. Aegon started to loosen his brows, while Otto furrowed his-. He was a traitor-, he looks up.
-An insulter-. Aemond mumbles, shaking his head and looking away, clenching his pointy jaw. Blinkless, Helaena starts to open her eyes hugely, staring at his face.
-Did- did you say “was”?-. Aegon questions, narrowing his purple eyes.
-He tried to take Storm’s End-. The prince speaks with quickness and firmness, nodding towards his family.
-Aemond!-. Otto named him, harshly, afflicting his throat. The one-eyed looks at him, cocky and frustrated. Angry-. Where is Lucerys?-, he asked, almost afraid.
Prince Aemond look at the floor, bopping his head a little. A thousand images flashed before his eye in a second, all of them of Rhaenyra’s sons mocking and mistreating him. Then, the image of Vhagar crushing Luke and his dragon in her mouth; the sound of the dragon cracking between her teeth.
We’re disappointed to point that, when those memories appeared on the One-Eyed’s head, his lips curved into a cocky and proud smirk that shined with evilness. For an honest moment, Aemond Targaryen recognized himself that having killed Lucerys Strong, his tormentor and enemy, brings a great sentiment of power and pleasure to his shrinked chest.
When seeing that smirk on his face, his sister, Helaena, immediately came to the knowledge of something; all is lost.
-Him and his dragon are gone-. Prince Aemond answered at last, breathing deeply, and finally looking up again-. Their remains, in Vhagar’s belly-. He said, tilting his head.
Helaena gasped enormously, quickly turning around and covering her whole eyes with both her hands. Gasping for air, she almost ran to the outsides of the room, towards the balcony. Aegon’s face nearly fell to the floor; he went speechless, opening both his eyes and mouth hugely. Sleep suddenly left him, leaving surprise and fright on his baggy eyes.
Ser Criston only blinked one time, looking at his pupil with bright eyes of shock and what appeared to be interest. The prince’s grandfather, Otto, became numb, feeling his legs failing him for a second. His chin fell to the floor, whilst his mouth reached for words. Fright is the most obvious in Daeron’s eyes, who breathed fastly and, confused, reached for his mother’s hand.
But Alicent is frozen, with eyes of fear and a breathing of pain. The red-head woman’s eyes began to tremble as if she was staring at a beast from hell, instead of her own son, who quickly became aware of that look in her.
-What have you done?-. Otto whispers, speechless and blinkless. Aemond furrows his lips, keeping his prideful chin up-…What have you done, boy?!-. He asked again, this time harder, making his brows to furrow as well.
-What had to be done-. Aemond is quick to defend himself. Daeron looks at him with terror, shaking his head. Alicent gags, and sniffed, feeling her legs and knees trembling.
-Idiot…-, she whispered with no breath.
Aemond quickly blinks multiple time, not knowing if he had mistaken what she said.
From the balcony, feeling the cold breeze of the night, Helaena breathes fastly, with her hands still covering her eyes, and her head shaking from side to side. Her heartbeat is wild, as well as the scream her mother let out from inside the rooms.
-YOU IDIOT!-. Queen Alicent scolded at her middle child, making her throat to hurt while feeling her chest burning. In that moment, Aemond jumped on his place-. You ruined us, that- that is what you have done! YOU SENSELESS!-, she roared.
-Mother-, he is quick to call. Aegon blinks anxiously.
Alicent gasps and turns around, covering her face while crying behind her hands. She walks away from him, and Aemond followed two steps of her, not liking the way she had looked at him.
Aemond Targaryen…who would henceforth be known as Aemond the Kinslayer to his foes…has returned to King’s Landing, having won the support of Storm’s End for his brother Aegon, and the undying enmity of Queen Rhaenyra. After killing Luke, he waited for both.
What the prince was not expecting, though, was for his mother, Queen Alicent, to look at him the same way she looks at Aegon: with disappointment, angriness, and as if he isn’t worth a single catch of breath. She’s looking at him worse than that.
-The Mother have mercy on us all-, Alicent weeps with true fear, endlessly scratching her own nails and fingers, hurting herself. Aemond blinks, steps behind her, looking at her back with desperation, wanting her to turn around.
Meanwhile, Aegon stood up from the chair, playing with his nails as he watches all with nerves and confusion.
-You only lost one eye-. Otto spoke with tiredness and shock; such a glum on his exhausted voice. His grandson side-eyes him, clenching his jaw-. How could you be so blind?-, he narrows his eyes, shocked.
Aemond opened his mouth, about to speak, but his attention turned when noticing Helaena fastly walking towards the doors of the room, running to her scape with fear and nerves, not looking at anyone.
-Helaena-. He quickly calls, expecting for his gaze to be answered-. The bastard deserved it-, he growled towards his grandfather, who gasped in shock. Aemond plans to follow his sister-. Helaena. Helae…!-
His words were left in the air when his mother turned around to look at him, finally, but only to make his head turn around with the great hurtful slap she slashed against him. Aemond’s whole face burned, while his cheek felt like dripped in boiling oil.
-YOU IMBECILE BEAST!-. The Dowager Queen, with all the pain of the world, yelled towards her favorite son. In that moment, Aegon walked to the balcony, Ser Criston looked away, and Helaena fled the room within a second, weeping on her way. Her brother Daeron was quick to follow-. What were you thinking?!-, she screams, made into a bundle of nerves, and grasping the neck of his jacket to shake him violently.
Aemond’s chest comes up and down. He is shocked, not cocky neither prideful anymore. He’s shocked, in pain by his mother’s curses, punches and looks towards him. Towards him. His only eye started to get teary, forever looking at her with parted lips.
-You just weakened your brother’s place in the throne, and by that your- OUR own safety and secureness, you insolent fool!-. Alicent speaks fastly and angrily; her voice makes echo in the whole room. Nobody is so much as breathing-. The gods will punish you, for this, Aemond! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!-. The Queen screamed with desperation and madness, shaking him with no mercy.
-Mother!-, he gasps, trying to hold her wrists, but not having the bravery too. He is crying salty tears, totally speechless by how he’s being treated. As a monster.
Alicent breathes fastly and trembly, looking at his only eye with a raging fear in her both. She’s looking and looking at him and still cannot believe it; the pain it causes her, that this is her son. She feels betrayed as she had never felt before, and by her own child, the one she trusts the most. She feels like she has done everything wrong. She feels guilty, responsible, for the death of Lucerys Velaryon.
-Ink and paper-. Alicent whispers, with eyes as weak as glass. Grasped by her, Aemond gulps, looking for the love she has always looked at him with; it’s gone-. Get me ink and paper, now!-. She ordered with a shaky voice.
-Your Grace-. Ser Criston immediately leaves for the errand, haven spoken too with a hurried tone.
-Mother-, Aemond is capable to whisper, doing it weakly.
-I’ll send letters-. Alicent completely ignored him, trembling while speaking, and stepping away from him, heading towards her table-. She’ll read them-, she murmured, as trying to convince herself.
-The council must meet at once-. The Hand of The King mumbled, quickly stepping back, and leaving the room within a second.
Otto left the doors opened behind him.
Alicent arrives to her table, planning to sit and start to write, but her pulse fails. She lands both hands on the table, and looks down with extreme pain. Her lips tremble while her chest aches and her head shakes. She’s speechless; not knowing what the future holds for them now.
Aegon had slowly stepped out to the balcony, constantly sighing and breathing deeply. He looks rather in trance than in pain; still not truly believing or understand that this is actually happening, that his brother killed one of Rhaenyra’s bastards heartlessly and coldly.
Criston had gone to fetch ink and paper. Otto went to gather the council. Helaena had fled the room. Daeron escaped too. Alicent ran to her papers and pens. Aegon stepped away to the balcony.
Aemond the Kinslayer found himself completely alone in the middle of the room, standing as quietly as a rock in a desert would do. He’s moveless, speechless, blinkless and breathless, punched and hurted. He is frozen as the new version of him takes place inside of his body; he’s looked at differently.
He expected reactions, of course, but this is different. After confessing he killed Luke, whether if it was with remorse or not, he turned into another being.
He is a monster now.
And this monster is the one that we will follow, accompany and watch until his last breath. We’ll be his only true companion, from now on; it is sad to say.
Aemond’s doom follows.
•••
“We’ll leave at dawn”, Queen Rhaenyra had declared.
And so, they are.
When the sun started to rise, beginning a new day, three white-haired people walked up one of the highest mountains of Dragonstone, where the fob was so much you could not even see the sea from here, too far away.
Dark Sister swings in Daemon’s belt as he walks with fastness; his closed fists at the sides of his body. With cold eyes, he eyes Caraxes, who shrieked when looking back at him, impatiently waiting for his rider.
Baela walks with the same determination of her father. Standing by his sides, she constantly wipes away tears that reached her cheeks, breathing deeply and trying to keep her mind as clear as possible while she glanced her dragon, Moondancer, ready to have her on her saddle.
Queen Rhaenyra’s long white hair flies in the wind. Out of the three, she walks the fastest, going with trembling knees yet steady steps. Red-eyed and with a stiff breathing, she looks up towards Syrax, her yellow dragon, who lowly grumbled and stepped towards her as well, unquiet and desperate.
Rhaenyra sobs, blinking hugely while looking at her.
-Your Grace!-, a sudden call reached her ears.
The Queen halts her walk, turning around her head with a confused expression. Baela and Daemon barely looked back, and kept approaching to their dragons, hurried to mount them at once.
The Queen finds a White Cloak in the radar of her eyes. Safely away from the dragons, Ser Erryk looks at her with curved brows and a serious expression, having been the one who called her. Rhaenyra presses her lips, harshly, turning around, and walking towards him so he didn’t have to get close to the dragons.
Ser Erryk gulped strongly, looking at the pain of a mother when Rhaenyra approached enough. He looks at her wet cheeks, red eyes, dry skin and hair, bags under her eyes and desperation on the violet of her pupils.
She wants to find her boy, he knows, so he won’t steal much of her time.
-I come to ask for my leave, Your Grace-. He said with a firm voice. She immediately scrunched her nose and brows.
-Your- your leave?-. She repeated with a broken voice, truly confused.
-The princes Jacaerys and Daera, Your Grace-. The knight names, making their mother to quickly blink-. I am sworn to the princess; ‘tis my solemn duty to go and tell her of the news-. He spoke with a stiff lip, blinkless.
Rhaenyra gags as she felt her chest shrinking when thinking of them two, who are so far away, and alone, and away. She gulps harshly, wrinkling her down-curved lips.
-You can’t-. Rhaenyra shook her head, raising her brows. Ser Erryk immediately blinks hugely, not having expected her answer-. You shan’t-. She steadfastly said.
-I must alert them, my Queen-. Erryk whispered with slowness, briefly raising his brows.
-I find nobility in your intention, Ser Erryk, but your Queen forbids it-. Rhaenyra denied with a trembling voice, lifting her chin up while hearing Syrax’s growls from afar-. My son is alive; no one will gainsay that, nor alert anyone with lies spread by the Greens-. She murmured between teeth, holding her rage while doing so.
Ser Erryk understood there was nothing more to speak of the matter. The Black Queen has forbidden him to take his horse and leave to the other side of the world to tell princess Daera, his sworn princess, about the murder of his brother.
The White-Cloak pressed his lips, and nodded, obeying her, faithfully. When seeing so, Rhaenyra takes a trembling step back, clenching her jaw, and turning around with a cold slow blink; she faced her dragons.
And just a few seconds after, Queen Rhaenyra had taken seat on her seat, and with angriness she grasped her saddle’s ropes and pulled them harshly, making Syrax to rise immediately; her husband and stepdaughter quickly followed.
The Rogue Prince, along a raging growl, made Caraxes to jump off the cliff, fastly taking a high place in the clouds along The Black Queen. Their daughter rose in Moondancer’s back, having taken a big flap of wings to take off from ground.
Left alone in the cold foggy mountain, Ser Erryk looked up to the skies with worriness and seriousness. He heard the raging roars of those three dragons up in the clouds, and he shivered when imagining that, were Luke found dead, it would only be a thousand times that burning rage ruling the skies.
Princess Daera’s sworn protector, unable to go and tell her the most hideous news, presses his lips and clenches his jaw while looking at the sky. In silence, he prayed to the Seven so that Queen Rhaenyra would find Lucerys Velaryon hale and healthy, alive.
If she doesn’t…may the Gods have mercy.
•••
Helaena blinks quietly, lightly tilting her head towards a side. Her tender purple eyes are at ease, while her ears hear a distant yet sweet and mother-like humming, making echo in her head.
The dearest, calmed, blinks again.
Suddenly, she finds herself standing between the cradles of her children, and the humming became clearer, almost as if it was coming from behind her. She takes a deep breath, curios, staring at her kids. They are sleeping, for its too late in the night.
Jaehaera sleeps in the cradle at her right, whilst Jaehaerys does in her left, closest to the doors of the chambers which, for some reason, are plainly opened. For another odd reason, Helaena didn’t pay much attention to it.
The humming becomes as closer as sweeter, making her to slowly start to turn her head around. While doing so, she feels a warm hand placing itself on her lower back, sending nice shivers through all of her body. Helaena blinks softly, fully turning her head around, hopeful.
She found Daera standing right behind her, giving a sweet blink and lifting her cheeks into a tender smirk towards her. Helaena immediately gasped, raising her brows when seeing her.
-Daera-, she sighed, as happy as ever.
Her cousin smiles bigger, never stopping her humming. Helaena closed her eyes and felt at peace, suddenly feeling some hair under her hand. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself caressing Jaehaerys’s hair, standing closer to his cradle.
Helaena grins tenderly, looking to her right. Daera stands by Jaehaera’s cradle, caressing the girl’s white mane while smiling at her, as lovingly as always. The Queen sighs, having missed her dear cousin.
“They’re growing so fast”, Helaena thinks. Her children are every day taller, and smarter. Even though they cannot properly talk yet, they understand when asked something; they nod or shake their head, they laugh when they find something funny, the boy more than the girl. They are becoming bright kind children; that’s something to be grateful for.
Daera turned around her head, locking her purple eyes with Helaena’s. They both smirked at each other for what it felt like a heavenly eternity.
Weird it was, then, when from a moment to another, Daera’s humming stopped, as well as her smiles to Helaena, and her mimes to Jaehaera. The brown-skinned princess suddenly looked as if Helaena was having a memory, which confused her greatly, and made her to blink multiple times.
Daera walked her own way, reaching the chamber’s doors and, soon, completely leaving, leaving the children and their mother alone. The Queen furrows her brows, stepping away from Jaehaerys, and heading towards the doors with concern.
But a sound stopped her from following her cousin. A squeaking.
Helaena stopped on her tracks, turning around again. With this, she found rats climbing to the children’s cradle. Their mother frowns, parting her lips and shaking her head with confusion, not knowing where the rats come from, or why they are heading to her kids.
More and more rats started to climb the cradles up, out of nowhere, just in matter of quick seconds. Helaena opens her eyes bigly, placing her hands on her beating chest, and gasping when she hears Jaehaerys and Jaehaera starting to scream under the sea of rats, trying to fight against them.
A scared gasp left Helaena’s tight throat when she sprinted towards the cradles. She couldn’t even see her kids’ faces anymore, for they were under yards of fat hungry rats, who were biting their bones and drinking their blood already when the mother reached them.
Helaena cries with terror, curving her brows and getting her hands all bitten and damaged by the rats. She tries to take Jaehaerys legs and pull Jaehaera’s hand, but they were glued to their beds; they were not applying any force. Helaena screams, not hearing herself.
They were dead.
.
Helaena woke up within a second, raising from her bed and taking a deep and desperate breath of air with her mouth fully open. All disheveled and with bags under her eyes, she shivers time after time, blinking sour tears away.
The sun from her balcony let her know it was morning already, an easy and silent one. She cared not.
The Queen jumped from her bed, barefooted, and ran towards her children’s cradles. Breathless, she looks at the both of them.
And they were there, the two, tenderly and relaxingly sleeping, not aware at all of their mother’s heavy tears and breath. She stares at the both with big eyes, making sure they were real, safe and healthy. They are.
Letting out a big sigh, Helaena felt her knees shaking weakly. She gulped, and looked at the doors of the rooms. They are closed.
Slowly, and tense, she then stares at the secret passageways of the chamber, which is also closed. For now.
•••
The more the day advances, the hotter its sun gets. And yet…they haven’t come down.
Syrax, Caraxes and Moondancer have flown around the skies of Storm’s End maybe a thousand time since they arrived, which was when the sun was still coming up.
Their red, yellow and green scales reflect the daylight as they flap their wings and look from left to right and from right to left with their great sighting. Alas, they haven’t sighted what they are looking for.
Signs of Luke.
Hiding behind the tall gates of his castle, at the highest place of Durran’s Point, the Lord of Storm’s End yells to his guards to keep their spears up, yells to his girls to hide under their beds, and prays to the gods with fear so that those dragons wouldn’t slash their anger at them.
Lord Borros is scared, every knows, but the man is yet so proud and unbreakable that he sits his very throne and grasps it with great force, waiting at any for second to Prince Daemon to cross the gates of his Round Hall, and take his head with Dark Sister.
But, currently having his mind off the Lord that took part in Lucerys’ murder, Daemon employs his concentration in rather looking at the salty sea and the brown sand at the beaches below them. His jaw is forever tense, whilst the under of his eyes are slightly red.
Flapping her wings faster than the Blood Wyrm, Syrax growls as she shakes her neck, and feels a heaviness on her chest. Rhaenyra feels worse. With the wind blowing her sweaty long white mane, and tears constantly blurring her sight, the Black Queen is rarely blinking, endlessly sighting the seas and the lands.
It is a pity to say that she even dared to look higher than her, to the skies, hoping to see Luke and Arrax approaching to them with quick flaps, waving a hand in the air, smiling, and letting her know that he is completely fine, that what she was told were lies.
But she hasn’t found him, not in the seas, nor in land, and much less in the skies.
Flying the closest to Caraxes, Moondancer soars between the clouds while growling lowly, always looking down for what her rider is also looking for. But her rider feels strange.
Baela is highly weak. Last night, after hearing the news of Luke’s assumed death, she and her parents argued until sunrise and then fled to Storm’s End. They have been flying for hours and hours, under a hot sun, between heavy clouds. She hasn’t eaten or drink anything for nearly a day now.
Daemon’s middle daughter fights against her exhaustion, forcing herself to keep her eyes open, and to keep looking for her dear brother. But her blinks are slow, her throat dry, her tummy empty, and her skin burning. She shakes her head, trying not to think of it.
-Luke…-, a whisper left her lips.
And, after not bearing the possibility of him being truly dead, Baela gave up to her senses, and fell unconscious. Her body gets loosen on her saddle, making Moondancer to immediately shriek with loudness, quickly stabilizing her wings so that her rider wouldn’t fall.
As soon as hearing Moondancer’s cry, Daemon turned around his head, and pressed his teeth tight when seeing Baela’s dragon fighting to keep her on the saddle. Thankfully, she’s wearing her belt, for she even got mentally ready to fight Vhagar in the skies.
Daemon didn’t lose a second, quickly taking action. Caraxes whistled with hurry, giving a swift turn and flying towards Moondancer with big flaps. The red dragon’s nose skimmed the green’s head, and she shrieked, shaking her head and following the command.
The both of them started to descend, heading to land.
Flying the highest, Rhaenyra looked down after hearing the fuss. She narrowed her eyes, fixating her red gaze on Moondancer. When noticing Baela’s loose body, Nyra furrowed her brows and parted her lips with worriness.
Soon, Caraxes and Moondancer landed in the same place. Even before his dragon reached land, Daemon quickly stood up from his saddle and nearly jumped from it, breathing heavily. While Caraxes whistles and shakes his long neck, Daemon ran down his red wings, rapidly reaching the ground. He didn’t stop running, and headed to Moondancer, who didn’t seem to welcome his hurry and approaching.
Moondancer opened her mouth and growled towards him; Daemon stopped and clenched both his fists and teeth, desperate. But, only seconds them, Caraxes rose behind him and, with great power, opened his big mouth and roared towards the younger smaller dragon.
While his red dragon defends him, The Rogue Prince kept approaching with the same hurry as before. Moondancer folded before the dragon of her rider’s father, and allowed him to get close to her. The green dragon bends her head, intimidated, as if she was asking for forgiveness. Caraxes only whistled.
-Baela!-, Daemon’s acute voice yelled her name with hurry.
Meanwhile, some steps behind Caraxes, Syrax arrived and landed too, growling. Rhaenyra was quick to take off her belt and walk down from her saddle with quickness, never driving away her scared eyes from her husband and step-daughter.
-Baela…-. When Daemon reaches Moondancer’s side, he finds his daughter completely fainted, pale and sweaty. With her arms loose at the sides of her body, she breathes with slowness; her lips are dry.
The Rogue Prince curves his blond brows, gulping strongly. Internally scolding himself for not paying attention to her before, Daemon starts to take her off her saddle, carrying his daughter on his firm arms. Moondancer purrs lowly, now understanding he’s only trying to help her.
Daemon turns around and begins to walk, with Baela tucked to his chest. When seeing the scene, Rhaenyra halts her trembling steps and curves her brows, hasping for air.
-Baela-, she nervously named, worryingly touching her pants’ fabric. With cold eyes, her husband walks towards his dragon, jaw clenched-. Take her home!-, her trembling voice said.
-I am taking her home-. His cold voice answered while walking up Caraxes’ wings with firmness, and then his eyes stared at her-. We are-, he pointed.
-No-. She immediately shook her head, looking away. Daemon hisses, opening his mouth, but she spoke before he could-. I haven’t found him!-. She quickly declared.
-Neither will you, he’s dead!-. His cocky and high-pitched voice answered with anger. Rhaenyra afflicts her throat and looks at him teary eyes; she shakes her head, not believing it. He tights his teeth, carefully placing Baela on the saddle. Caraxes purrs lowly, accepting the girl with no problem-. He is dead, Rhaenyra-. He says, softer than before, slowly walking down his dragons’ wing.
-I am the one to declare that; not you, Daemon-. The Queen denied, talking as firmly as possible, with red cheeks and pale lips.
-Aemond Targaryen already declared it, when he chased Luke with that hoary old bitch Vhagar-. He says between teeth, full of anger.
Just by picturing the scene, and her poor little child, Rhaenyra shook her head, with her lips trembling, and turned around, heading back to her dragon. Anxious, Daemon clenches his fists and looks madly at her.
-You are losing time, you are wasting it while they shit on your throne!-. He loudly yelled, opening his eyes big.
-I NEED TO SEE HIM!-. Rhaenyra faced him again and screamed with a mother’s rage, wrinkling her own chest. Daemon breathes fast, blinkless-. What if he’s scared, a-alone?! In all of this?!-, she ponders, looking all around.
Daemon remains in silence, not believing the incoherence she’s saying. She truly believes she has been lied to, and that her son still lives. But he knows truth, he can feel that he is not around anymore. Luke was his son too.
-The children need you-. He mutters, nearly with no emotion, looking at her painful eyes. Rhaenyra sniffs her nose, thinking of all of her other kids, but she shakes her head, not letting that to change her mind.
-So does Luke-. She whispered, convinced. The Queen turns around, whilst her husband stuttered, seeing her go-, more than ever…-her voice trembles while she approaches her dragon.
-Rhaenyra-. He calls her, but she starts to take her mount-. Nyra!-, he insisted.
-Take Baela home, give her water, food, and…! And do not let her come back-. Rhaenyra ordered, trembling and serious, sitting on her saddle. Daemon opens his mouth-. Neither you do-, her voice declared.
And after this, Syrax flapped her wings, and left land, heading back to the skies again. Now alone. Caraxes whistles lowly, looking up at her with narrowed eyes.
Standing on Caraxes’ wing, Daemon has his fists, teeth and jaw clenched with pure tension. He mumbles under his breath, staring at Durran’s Castle with great thirsts of blood and fire.
The Rogue Prince forces himself to blink, turning around, and cursing for the hundredth time on the day the name and life of Aemond “One-Eyed” Targaryen.
•••
This new morning is a silent one, in King’s Landing, of all places, which is known by its loud savage people. Differently than in other suns, they are silent now, waling with caution and looking at every corner before turning it.
The deaths caused by the red dragon Meleys still keep the subjects with grief and mourn. Even more than that, fear.
While Flea Bottom solves their own problems, the prince Aemond walked out of his room for the first time in the day. Every guard turned to look at him, as well as every lord, lady, maid, servant and ratcatcher.
It it’s the obvious. Everyone knows.
The prince goes as always, with a nice black leather fit, his black leather patch, his hair perfectly combed falling on his back, and his resting face of a man who does not care nor listens to what the others say about him. Today, to be honest, this is quite challenging.
Aemond’s walk is firm while he goes through the hallways, but he can feel every pair of eyes scrutinizing him, equally from behind that from the front. Nobody is pretending; they are all looking at him with incredulity and fear.
-He killed her son…-, a whisper said.
-Queen Alicent’s greatest son my ass…-, another one said.
Aemond twists his lips, pretending not to hear anything at all. Why is he to care? The ones mumbling about him are little and littler than him. No ones. That thought bring some peace to him.
-Monster-, a maid muttered.
-Kinslayer-, a Gold Cloak did too.
Aemond starts to burn from within, unconsciously beginning to walk faster, suddenly wondering why these halls are so fucking large. The people around him noticed his hurry, and a common word came to their mind: pathetic.
The prince’s mind turns its attention to someone of the small council who he suddenly saw walking towards that room. The Master of Laws, Lord Wylde, heads in silence towards the Small Council, for they’re about to have a meeting.
Deciding that he should attend it, just to know his brother The King’s further plans of “action”, Aemond started to walk the same path as Lord Jasper, to his unknowing, being followed from afar.
Soon, the guards opened the doors for Ironrod, who walked into the Small Council with easiness. Seconds later, Prince Aemond planned to follow the same path, approaching to the doors with cocky steps.
He expected the guards to open the doors for him. But, when noticing they were as still as a rock, he furrowed his brows, confused. He tsked, and decided to just do it himself. But, before he could even touch the door, one of the guards spoke.
-Halt, my prince-. He spoke.
The one-eyed looked at him with coldness and confusion, not understanding the restriction.
-You cannot attend the Small Council’s reunion, my prince-. The other guard denied, and the prince looked at him the same way: bothered-. Queen Dowager Alicent’s orders-. He cleared, looking away from him.
It was like a bucket of cold water being abruptly thrown to him, only that by his own mother, which makes it ten times worse.
Aemond is left speechless and blinkless, staring at the door. It is impossible to describe how insulted he fell, left out and ignored. And by her. By Alicent? This…this is so wrong.
Slowly, Aemond turns around, not directing one single word to the guards. His expression is cold and still; he starts to walk again the same way he came from. Everybody still looks at him; they know, they know, they all know.
How fast is word spread in these places? The whole of the Red Keep knows, maybe half of King’s Landing does too now. It is only matter of time until the news reach Dragonstone, if indeed it still hasn’t.
Aemond feels his heart sinking deeply on his chest, deeper than when he last saw Daera, when she ran away from him in pain and sorrow. Oh, he feels worse than that time, way way worse.
And this hasn’t even begun yet.
•••
The North is always The North. Coldness is, of course, expected, as well as heavy gray clouds and bone-chilling winds. However, we must admit that the change of both view and ambience of going from The Neck to Winterfell, was not subtle.
Who would have said that snow clouds would be so beautiful from the inside? Crystals of frozen water shined before the eyes of our princes, which sincerely took out more than two or three smiles from their lips.
Kalistrox and Vermax, after hours of straight soaring and flying in the high skies, are finally reaching their stop. At last, they have brought their riders to Winterfell, who will treat with its formidable young lord, Cregan Stark.
Daera breathed in with her eyes closed, feeling the cold air almost freezing her nostrils. That made her to cough and wrinkle her nose. She turned her head with amusement, finding Jacaerys already laughing at her from the distance. The princess rolled her eyes, smiling, and then commanding her dragon to fly faster.
Husband and wife looked down when the town appears before them. It is big and formidable, just as the books and maesters describe. Jace’s brown eyes shined with marvel, ashamedly exciting for seeing Winterfell for the first time in his life. The circumstances are not reason to cheer, of course, but the studying prince couldn’t help it.
Daera looks from over her shoulder for a few seconds, easily noticing the illusion on her brother’s eyes. She giggled a little, lowly, knowing that he would have a reaction like this when seeing the ancient town. It’s also her first time in The North too, so she has to admit some excitement herself as well.
And, while the princes think about their curiosity up there, the common people of Winterfell yelled, cried and ran with terror and despair when they looked up to the skies and saw those two dragons soaring in their skies and vanishing away their clouds with their huge winds.
Not having a single idea of their visit, you see, the whole town got scared and intimidated, quickly running for protection under a roof. As if dragons couldn’t burn wood. Thankfully, the occasion is not for doing so.
Able of hearing the cries and screams, Daera curved her brows and laughed softly, lifting her chin up with pride. Jacaerys chuckled as well, getting a tight hold of Vermax’s ropes, and making him to fly a little more apart from the town. Closing her smirking lips, his wife followed.
Soon enough, Kalistrox and Vermax found themselves landing in a snowy not-to-tall mountain that was well than enough apart from the people and their fear. The hill trembled a little, but it did a good job in giving the dragons a good landing.
The Golden Ray, though, growled lowly with disgust, looking to the strange and uncomfortable feeling on his paws. Snow. He shows his teeth with irritation, until he hears his rider’s laugh, which made him to direct his attention to her.
-I know, my boy, I know-. The princess sighed while taking off her belt. She immediately noticed Kalistrox’s disliking of the cold beneath his paws and claws.
-Vermax doesn’t like it either…-, a soft mumble left Jacaerys’ lips. He caresses his dragon’s neck with a little pity, silently asking for forgiveness. Vermax only purrs lowly, closing his eyes and shaking his head a little.
Sighing, Jace turns his head around. Daera did the same, finding him staring at her. They smiled at the same time and, too, started to walk down from their mount.
Both princes look fresh and clean, to the contrary of last night. As we remember, Daera found herself in the middle of an attempted attack from the crannogmen; five of them. She was alone, and without her dragon. She murdered the five of them, coldly and cruelly, we might add.
When prince Jacaerys found her soaked in blood and hand-held with the upper body of one of the men she killed, he got no explanation of what had happened, not until a while after. With her lips stained by heavy blood, she just smirked at him, and walked away.
Daera headed back to the lake, informing that she was to take a bath. For reasons of privacy, he stayed, walking around with beating nerves and worriness. For his tranquility, Kalistrox remained with her the entire time, also soaking himself in the river while his rider’s naked body got calmly cleaned by herself.
It was then, when she returned to the camp with clean skin and a change of clothes, that Daera explained to him what happened. When hearing her telling, Jace went pale, and couldn’t believe that he was so neglectful when being up in the skies. A thousand and one times he asked for forgiveness; a thousand and one times she told him it wasn’t of need.
With all of those bloodied and dead bodies, the dragons had a proper meal both at night and in the morning. The only thing they didn’t eat were the pack of bollocks from the men; Daera and Jace found them disgusting and didn’t allow their dragons to put their teeth in them.
-It was a quick flight, was it not?-. The princess asks with narrowed eyes as they walk, looking up to the grey clouds that conquer the skies.
-I thought the same thing-. Jacaerys nodded, walking side by side to her, looking at her face instead than to the clouds-. I may thank my company for it; time flies when I am with her-. He confesses sweetly and funnily mumbling.
Daera presses her lips, shrinking them into a playful smile, turning her head to look at him. Purple and brown eyes stare at each other silently. Slowly, they stopped walking, a little far from their dragons now, but very close to each other.
The confessions of last night make echo in both their heads; Jacaerys’ pure love for Daera, and her convincement of him being the right choice. He smiles a little, and she does so too, finding warmness in his stare in the middle of the cold.
-Shall we?-, the prince questions within a mumble, cocking his head towards the rest of the mountain, pondering if they should walk their way into the town.
-They already know they have visitors-. Daera shook her head, prideful and funny-. Let them treat us as so-, she shrugges. Her husband chuckles lowly, agreeing.
-We wait then-, he nods, calmly looking at her eyes.
Daera blinks one time, slowly, staring at him. Soon, she puts her attention in the prince’s hair. It looks like the winds of winter did something to his mane while they were flying deeper into the North, for his hair is all curly, disheveled, and falling to the sides of his face, almost reaching his shoulders.
The princess laughs, raising a hand and ruffling his hair playfully. Jace sighs heavily and closes his eyes.
-Is it a complete mess?-. He tsks, not even wanting to know how messy he looks.
-It looks better than you may think-. Daera smiles while passing her hand on his mane, looking at it. Jace sighs through his nose, feeling her touch.
-My hair is not familiar with these winds-. The prince spokes softly, his eyes a little narrowed due to the breeze around-. Only with Dragonstone’s, I fear-. He speaks.
-Hmm-, she agrees with a soft mumble, nodding and moving his curls with curiosity from side to side-. Change could be good-. The princess lifts his chin up, smiling. He starts to copy her, admiring her purple eyes-. You could keep your hair like this, like mine-. She smirked, prideful.
Jacaerys hums a low laugh, liking her words. He stares at her for some silent seconds and, then, in the same silence, he raises his hand and between his fingers he grabs a strand of white curly hair from hers.
Daera parts her lips, looking at him while he serenely caresses her hair and looks at it with a soft thoughtful expression. The princess breathes slowly, feeling his tender touch, and also remembering his words from last night.
Unbeknownst to her, she looks like she’s almost drooling, staring at him with both confusion and sweetness, lost in her mind. She can’t help but to think of how she has been feeling with him, these days of late.
The princess is finding great comfort in the company of her husband. Her fake husband. She and Jace have always been close of course, we know that, but as sister and brother. Lately, there has been more between them, way more; the list is crowned by last night confessions, and how he ate her in The Vale.
Daera gulps and, in that same very moment, both their dragons start to lowly growl, notifying them about possible menace. Still holding her strand of hair, Jacaerys lifted up his face and looked above her shoulder, eyes narrowed.
-Our host is here-. He informs with a serious tone, slowly letting go her hair.
With graceful moves, Daera turns both her head and body around, and looks in the same direction. Standing closely, side to side, the couple stares at a handful on horsed men riding towards them. Three of them are knights, the other two wear dark fine clothes of fur. They’re followed by two horses who are riderless, a brown one and a white mare.
-We shall meet them then-. The princess sighs, feeling Jace’s hand placing itself on her lower back. They started to walk. For a brief second Daera turns around her head, still hearing her dragons’ growls-. Kalistrox, Lykiri (Kalistrox, calm down)-. She raised her brows towards him.
The golden dragon seals his mouth, still grumbling a little. He kept quiet, but didn’t draw his eyes apart from his rider, as neither did Vermax, who watches Jace’s every step.
As their staying is supposed to be a brief one, the princes carry their luggage in bags that hang from their shoulders, nor to big or small; convenient for their flight and carrying just what they need.
As they walk down the hill and get away enough from the dragons’ reach, Daera and Jace see how the riders are getting closer. The man that leads them is thick and big, with long brown hair and a sword so big that you could see it from far, even though it’s sheathed behind his back.
The knights carry a very distinguishable flag with them. That of the howling wolf of House Winterfell. The princess’ purple eyes watch as the flag flutters in the cold wind around them. She interlocks an elbow with one of Jace’s, who accepted her grip with a stronger one, humming lowly.
At last, they all arrived. All being incapable of not doing the same: to look at the top of the hill, where a huge golden dragon and an ill-tempered green one stare down at them without a blink.
The three knights stay behind, whilst the other two men stopped their horses at a considerable distance, and then jumped off from them.
-Greetings!-. Jacaerys was the first to speak, standing firmly. By his side, Daera’s lips twisted in a little smirk, watching those two men approaching.
The man to the left is a slim tall one, of soft features and splendid posture, dark hair combed to the sides of his head, and sleepy yet awaken blue eyes. He seems welcoming enough, gifting a quick smile to the princess when he walked away from his horse.
As to the other man, this one is shorter than his companion, but bulkier, thicker, and clearly stronger, His big complexity is covered by infinite layers of fur. He may be brown-haired, but there are some lighter strands that make him look almost like a redhead, almost. He is young, older than the two of them but still young, and possesses eyes as gray as the clouds from the above.
On his chest, the sigil of a wolf clearly tells who is who here. The grey-eyed is no one else than the young Lord of the North, Lord Cregan Stark.
-My princes-, his voice welcomed them hoarsely but kindly, bowing his head just as his friend did at the same time.
Jacaerys keeps a straight expression, eyes soften. Daera is not known for keeping anything to herself, so she’s not trying to hide the cocky smirk on her lips while seeing the handsome lords bowing their heads to her. Oh, Baela would melt if she were here.
-I am Cregan Stark, at your services, my princes-. The strong one speaks with firmness, looking at the both of them.
-Lord Cregan-, Daera immediately nodded, naming him with respect.
-May I present Lord Robard Cerwyn as well-. He pointed at his friend, who bowed his head a new time.
-My princes, it is a high honor to make your acquittance-. His honeyed voice greeted them with true welcoming, which made the princes to feel easier every second.
House Cerwyn, of course, the closest and more noble vassal house to the Starks. Castle Cerwyn, their seat, is only half a day from Winterfell, so its no surprise that Lord Cregan asked for his companion’s presence to welcome the princes of the realm.
-My lords, it is our honor-. Jace speaks well mannered, nodding towards them-. I am prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and this is my wife-. He turns his head to look at her, reassuring the grip on their locked shoulders.
-Daera Targaryen-, she presents herself with humbleness, nodding towards the both of them.
-Princess-, Robard Cerwyn, one more time, bowed his head.
-My princes-. Lord Cregan does the same, for both princes, who look at him with kind small smiles, feeling the cold wind blowing their manes, which are now both curly.
The oldest of them must be Lord Cerwyn, looking the more mature, but the four of them are clearly around the same age, young and in the springtime of life. Prince Jacaerys, no doubt, is the youngest.
The knights from behind are still constantly looking up, fighting so hard to not be mouth-opened when eyeing towards the legendary beasts that watch them from the top of the mountain. It is, of course, the first time for all these northers seeing a dragon. Two, at that.
-Last night we received a raven from Lord Manderly, noticing us in advance of your upcoming visit-. Lord Cregan informs. Daera and Jace share a quick silent look; they know the raven only did so, and said nothing more. No one knows, nor even imagines that they are here because King Viserys is dead, and the Greens usurped the throne.
No, as he said, Lord Cregan believes this is just a humble and warm visit from the princes of the realm.
-We shared a nice supper with him, a night ago-. Daera comments with a little smile. Cregan closes one, nodding at her.
-From Heart’s Home to Winterfell in such little time-. Lord Cerwyn points out with honest curiosity, crossing his arms on his chest. The princes look at him in silence-. No greater pleasure than to see the world, I agree-. He laughs to himself.
-We think the same, my lord-. Jace joins him in a few chuckles, nodding. Daera sighs through her nose, discreetly, eyeing Kalistrox for a second. Lord Cregan watches her in silence, looking at the white curls that fall over her shoulders and back.
The white-haired princess thinks how they cannot lose a precious second while being here. They’re being subtle, yes, because they know the North is a place to really be serious in, but they canna lose time.
-Shall we mount?-. The princess suddenly proposed, charming, and raising her brows towards the riderless horses.
-But of course-, Lord Cregan is quick to nod, stepping to a side and pointing the way to her with an open hand.
Lord Cerwyn breathes in deeply, quickly heading towards the white mare to hold her on her place. Lord Cregan was swift too, checking her saddle alright. And Prince Jacaerys walked behind his wife closely, guiding her with a hand placed on her lower back.
All of the gentlemen hurried to help her, which took out an honest smile from her lips. Her husband offered her a hand, which she took with firmness while Lord Cregan held her saddle tightly for her.
Easily, Daera took seat on top of the white mare, who let put a soft whinny.
-Thank you-. The princess nods towards them. After seeing she was well stablished, the men headed to their own horses. Jacaerys walked towards his, the brown one, while looking up at her. Daera chews a smile, looking at him from feet to toe-. Hello, gorgeous…-, she mumbles, caressing the mare’s ears with kindness.
-We shall head to the castle now-. Lord Cregan informs, mounting a thick black horse, as dark as the night. Their horses all start to go back the way the came from before.
-Very well-. Jacaerys nods, running a hand through his curly hair, combing it to the back of his head, but it was still a mess. A mess that his wife glanced at with a sided smile, truly digging the new look of him.
The three knights now head the way, mounting their horses.
Low beastlike growls reach their ears, making Cregan to turn his head towards the top of that mountain. Thinking nobody was looking at him, he did not hide his awe, looking at there with parted lips and glowing eyes, admiring the dragons from above.
Having seen him, Daera starts to form a smile and them chews it, hiding it a little. She will never get tired of people’s impression when they see a dragon for the first time. These days have been full of those reactions, from the kids in Heart’s Home to Lord Cregan’s own open mouth.
-We hope we did not…alarmed your town, my Lord-. Daera speaks after moments of silence, turning to look at him.
-If we did, we apologize-. Jace is quick to say, raising his brows towards him. Lord Cregan starts to shake his head with softness.
-My wife ran and hid under our bed-. Lord Cerwyn amusedly confesses, riding his horse with a cocky smile. The story made the princes to laugh, Daera rising her brows with a funny pity.
-Then we do apologize-. The brown-haired prince smiles at him, humorous but still truly apologetic.
-No need, my prince-. Lord Robard denied with simpleness.
While they ride, Daera takes a moment of silence to stare around where they were passing through. It is not currently snowing, but everything is hidden under layers of soft white snow, which almost glows under the light of the sun that comes through the creaks of the clouds. The tall trees, the black rocks and small hills.
She is barely arriving, but admits to herself that Winterfell is genuinely beautiful. She is used to warm places, ones of sun, seas and grass. This place is quite different to King’s Landing, to Dragonstone, to Driftmark…to Pentos, even.
When Pentos comes to her mind, a person does too, inevitably. In her head, she sees Aemond. That sent immediate shivers down her spine; she gulps, feeling her mouth getting dry, and it is not because of the cold.
The reminisce of him forcing her to drink the Moon Tea, just a day after blessing Alyssa’s name, make her to shiver again. She thinks of his brother, Aegon, too. The fake King.
She thinks in everything that has happened in the spawn of just days. Alyssa, Viserys’ death, the stealth of their throne, Visenya, Luke having to fly alone to Storm’s End. Everything screams danger, and ill times.
Oh, and she doesn’t know yet…
When Daera achieved to come out of her thoughts, she became aware that they have left the mountains behind, and that now they are riding in the very same town they flew over before. She parts her lips, quickly paying attention to them.
There’s no one who is either hiding or dissimulating their interest and mistrust when looking at them. They look at them from feet to toe, their lifted-up chins and leather clothes. The woman of long curly white hair and noticeable purple eyes; a Targaryen beauty in all of its glory.
Jacaerys rides his horse with pride, looking at the people with easy attentive eyes. He thinks about how, one day, he’ll be King to all of these who are looking at him. The thought makes him both nervous and pride. But more than that: hopeful.
Daera is looking back at everyone, analyzing their different faces of cold eyes and strong features. Though most of them are not, she smiles, wavering her hand towards some kids, who saluted back at her within giggles and blushed cheeks. She chuckled, and most of the people know to appreciate her beauty, mesmerized by the white hair and purple orbs.
-I am the one to apologize now-. Lord Cregan speaks with certain uneasiness, riding between both princess, who looked at him with interest-. My people are not used of visitors from so far, you see-. He explains, looking down at his subjects with serious kind eyes.
Daera blinks with curiosity, easily noticing the great respect that they look at their young lord with. She smiles to herself, liking that.
-Nor that gorgeous, I’d wager-. Prince Jacaerys speaks coquettishly, eyeing his wife from the sides of his eyes.
To our surprise, Daera opened her mouth in shock, though she quickly tried to hide her expression, and just cleared her throat, looking away with a pressed smirk. Jace looks at her with a sided smile, playing with his horse’s saddle, and then looking forward too.
Lord Cregan and Robard, close friends, shared a discreet funny look, having noticed the princess’ flattered face.
Soon enough, they arrived to the seat of the Starks, the castle of Winterfell. They rode their horses into the patio, where they found a lot of people walking from here to there, adults running errands and kids playing around, dogs barking and cats hissing at them.
Jacaerys narrows his eyes a little, having expected a more organized welcome, but finding amusement in all the things happening at once. His wife, however, didn’t even think in the need of a royal welcome, laughing when she saw a kid throwing what it looked like cow shit to his brother.
-Dear gods-, the princess smiles, looking around.
Cregan’s horse stopped walking as soon as he jumped off his saddle, firmly landing on the ground while looking at his people with pressed lips and kind of reproaching eyes.
-Heavens-, Lord Cerwyn sighs, coming off his hoarse too. He sees princess Daera finding the people entertaining, while prince Jacaerys softly smiles at them.
Unbeknownst to the princes, the young Lord had left them as organized as possible. But, nevertheless, the heart of Winterfell never stays still, which was clear when, after the Lord left to fetch their visitors, a wind blew away one bed sheets a handmaiden was hanging. After that, all is history.
-Well, at least they do not seem offended-. Robard mumbles discreetly to Cregan’s side. Lord Stark grumbles, looking at the princes, who certainly seem more than fine with the multiple ongoings of the patio.
-Apologies, princes-. Lord Cregan heads to them, walking firmly. Still on her saddle, Daera looked down at him and smiled-. We are in the-
-No, no need-. The princess shakes her head with amusement, whilst her husband came off his hoarse, caressing his face-. A royal welcoming was not of need-. She assured.
Lord Cregan closes his lips and nods silently, thinking to himself that, as to now, the princess hasn’t proved to be some of the things she is described as. Gorgeous and charming, yes, but not mad as her father. Well, some people lie, and some not, especially about the royal family.
-This is better!-. Daera giggles, moving her legs to a side of the mare to came off it. Jace quickly starts to approach, but she didn’t see him, and easily jump off of her own with no problem. Jace stops and pretends to look around with interest, whistling.
Cregan raises a hand, signaling a call towards some people; two handmaidens start to approach to them.
-You must be tired, after such a sojourn-. Lord Stark speaks with manner, interestingly watched by prince Jacaerys.
Looking over her shoulder, Daera waves a hand towards a group of young adults who were looking at them. Shyly, they smiled and answered, making her to grin. There will not be a day where she does not enjoy to share with commonfolk.
- Perhaps you would like to step into your accommodations, my princes. A warm meal is on the making-. Cregan continues to speak, looking at the both of them, having noticed the princess’ nice “hello” to a few of his subjects-. Would you like that, my princes?-. He questions.
Jacaerys looks at her, and she automatically does too, cocking her head along a closed easy grin. They looked at each other for three seconds, and that was enough to decide that they wanted the same.
-We would-, the princess speaks their agreement.
Cregan nods with a little smile. The two servants he called before arrive to them, bowing their heads towards the princes and the lords.
-Fetch the princes’ luggage to their bedchamber-. Lord Cregan orders.
-Oh, thanks-. Jace quickly nods, giving them her bad, as well as Daera did, the both smiling briefly to them. The women bowed again, turning around and heading to the insides of the castle-. We thank you, for the hospitality-. He speaks to the lord.
-No need for so-, Cregan gently shakes his head.
-We will get stablished, then-. Daera informs with raised eyebrows, gripping herself to her husband’s elbow again. He breathed in, feeling her body’s warmth in the middle of the coldness.
-Then, we can talk politics-. The princes raised his brows as well, speaking lower than before. Cregan nods slowly, understanding that now there’s something to talk about.
-Very well, my princes-. He nods-. I’ll order your fetching to the dining room in around an hour, if you agree-. Lord Cregan informs.
-Perfect-, the white-haired princess agreed, and her husband did too in a silent nod.
-Then get comfortable, please-. Cregan mannerly speaks, pointing forwards-. If you would be so kind as to follow Telio; he’ll guide you to your rooms-. He gently asks.
They see a fat young boy waiting for them with a sort of a nervous expression. Jacaerys and Daera nod to the lords, and start to head towards the boy, who started to guide them with silent steps.
Watched by everyone, the princess followed Telio into the insides of the castle, soon finding dark walls and torches in every step they’d take. Fair enough, for the darkness that it can grow in the North, and not only at night.
While walking though a hall, keeping a distance with the guide, Jacaerys suddenly caressed one of Daera’s arm, and then interlocked her hand with his, caressing her fingers.
That made the princess to rise her brows, turning to look at him with a growing smile.
-You are feeling romantic?-. She questions tauntly, narrowing her purple eyes.
-You now know I am in love with you-. Jace narrows his eyes as well, playfully. Daera parts her lips, sighing with a dumbness she wasn’t aware of-. There’s nothing to hide anymore-. He mumbled, walking even closer to her; his arm skimmed one of her breasts.
-Huh-, Daera lets out a single laugh, faking surprise-. Do not be so explicit in front of Telio-. She whispered funnily, winking an eye.
The princes laughed freely; they rocked their hands while their chuckles echoed around the whole hall.
Until the news only we know about reaches Jacaerys and Daera’s ears, they are to be the only ones that we will get to see smiling and hear laughing, for a time.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, references to sex, angst and grief, mentions of death, HIGHLY EXPLICIT DEATH, mentions of blood, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡
■ ■ ■
《 Calm before the storm that already thundered 》
In Storm’s End, watchers on the castle walls saw distant blast of flame, and would hear shrieks cutting the thunders. Everyone that knew which dragons had taken off from Darren’s Defiance imagined the same: the two beasts were locked together, lightning crackling around them.
Vhagar was five times the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles. If there was a fight, it could not have lasted long. Though we did see what happened between the dark clouds, and so we can attest that the Fight above Shipbreaker Bay lasted more than perhaps ten minutes. Too little time for ones, mayhap, but let us remember The Queen of All Dragons could’ve easily ended the confrontation within a snap; it was prince Lucerys and his great rider skills than bought him and his dragon more time of life.
Yet, Arrax’s few remaining members fell, broken, to be swallowed by the storm-lashed waters of the bay. A leg and half-tail of his washed up beneath the cliffs below Storm’s End just hours after his butchering, to make a feast for crabs and seagulls.
So many theories arose between whisperers, in the years to come. Some claim that Prince Lucerys’ corpse washed up as well, and tells us that Prince Aemond cut out his eyes and presented them to Lady Maris Baratheon on a bed of seaweed. We know that’s excessive, and very much a lie.
Some say Vhagar snatched Lucerys off his dragon’s back and swallowed him whole. We know ‘tis the true version. It has even been claimed that the prince survived his fall, swam to safety, but lost all memory of who he was, spending the rest of his days as a simpleminded fisherman. Gods be good.
We shall give all these tales the respect they deserve…which is to say, none. Lucerys Velaryon, the sweet boy we lived, laughed and fought with since the commence of this story, died with his dragon. Our brother was fourteen years of age. His body was never found, though we yet may see that.
With his death, the war of ravens and envoys and marriage pacts came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest. But we will wait for the narration of this war a little longer. Believe us: the longer we postpone it, the better for our hearts.
Now we are up to date, knowing what is happening on each of the different sides of our history. We saw Jace and Daera conquering The Vale, we saw Aemond's and Luke's experiences in Storm's End, we saw Rhaenyra along her Black Council, and we saw Daeron arriving to King's Landing.
Now, let us turn back to him.
The youngest son of King Viserys I and his second wife, Alicent Hightower, is now at moments in the Godswood of the castle.
The prince, who’s just days away from turning eight-and-ten, is seated on a bench made of fine stone. From here, he feels a cold breeze and looks up at the white round moon, lightly smiling to it from his distance. The night is a quiet one that has brought him to reflections and thoughts.
His eldest brother, Aegon, is King of the Seven Kingdoms, sits the Iron Throne and is the highest authority of all Westeros. His elder sister has two beautiful children and is with child again, serving as a perfect wife to her husband. His elder brother, Aemond, flies about the realm to gain support for their brother’s throne.
Daeron can’t help but to think that his family is the freaking best. It only takes a glance to realize it; look at what everyone’s up to! There are times that the young man whishes dearly that he had grown here instead of Oldtown. He’d know them better, and he wouldn’t have had to ride Tessarion always alone in the skies. “How would it have been?”, he dreams.
The boy doesn’t know his luck.
-Daeron!-, a voice suddenly calls him. The prince stops smiling at the moon and turns around his face with tranquility, blinking quietly.
Dowager Queen Alicent nears to him with nervous steps, looking around anxiously while approaching with quickness. All of her jewelry clinks as she walks.
-What are you doing out here?!-. The Queen whispers, raising her brows as she reached to him, standing in front of her youngest son, who just shrugged-. It is dark and cold out here, and you alone-. She raises her brows.
-It is fresh-, he shrugges again, gifting her a little smile. Alicent shakes her head briefly, looking around-. The Godswood is always a good place to think, mother, which is what I am doing, do not need to worry-. The prince speaks funnily, cocking his head while looking at her.
-You must be tired, from your flight, Daeron-. The Dowager Queen speaks along little sighs, lightly moving her arms at the sides of her body.
-Sort of-. The boy shrugges, once again, showing no distress at all on his eyes. He’s so different from his mother-. I realized…Aegon didn’t make a feast, as he said he would-. He notices, lightly narrowing his eyes towards her.
Alicent briefly presses her lips, raising her brows a little and beginning to nod.
-The King came to the realization that holding a banquet was not appropriate for the evening-. She attests, crossing her hands over her belly-. He found it best to…behold his wishes-, she showed a quick smile.
That was a lie. She hasn’t even seen Aegon since they were at The Iron Throne Hall and he declared a feast was to be taking place in The Red Keep. Truth be told, “the King” got drunk, forgot about his idea, and kept getting drunk.
-Ah, wise-. Daeron smiles, nodding. His mother nods in silence, starting to wonder where her eldest son may be now. She spent great time of the day in the High Sept, praying, so she wouldn’t know-. Mother-, he appears before her eyes again.
Alicent breathes in deeply, getting off her deep thoughts. Daeron blinks while looking at her, noticing the strong grip on her own hands and how tense her shoulders are. He wonders whether she’s cold or anxious.
-Care to sit with me?-, he proposes, leaning to the right, and making space for her on the bench.
-I rather stand-. His mother answered, preferring to have a clear sight of the whole garden itself, which is still lonely, only the two of them here-. Thank you, dearest-. She’s quick to add, glancing at him.
Daeron accepted her decision with no offense, but still kept the space for her. The prince breathes calmly through his nose staring at the moon once again. There is silent for some time, in which he got thoughtful, and she kept looking around.
-May I ask you something?-. The queen’s son questions, still looking at the white circle in the sky.
Alicent pressed her scrunched lips, immediately assuming that he’s to ask about the situation at presence. The war.
-You may, son-. She allowed after gulping, maintaining a serious expression.
Dowager Queen wonders what he’d ask. “What would happen to us if Rhaenyra steals my brother’s throne?”, “How are our defenses?”, “Why didn’t you fight back to Rhaenys and her dragon?”, “Will someone kill me and my siblings?”.
-Did my father suffer, mom?-. Daeron asked, blinking slowly. In that moment, Alicent became speechless, parting her ever-pressed lips. Haven’t expected that question at all, she looks down to him with eyes that started to show emotion-. Did he suffer much…before parting?-. He furrows his brows lightly, gulping.
There’s true worriness on her child’s eyes; he truly feels for the father that barely paid him any sort of attention. He is not resentful. He…truly is completely different from his brothers.
Alicent licks her lips, thinking of her words before speaking them, under the purple eyes of her Valyrian son.
-We did everything in our and the Gods’ power so that your father didn’t suffer-. Alicent answered with tones of sweet, sugar-coating King Viserys’ sickness-. We cared for him…until the very end-. She assured, gifting him a slow honest smirk.
When hearing so, Daeron sighed, forming a smile as well.
-I am glad-, he whispers-. I am thankful-. The prince looks to her with relieve-. I know he is too, mom…-. Daeron promised with gentleness, raising a hand, and holding one of his mother’s.
Alicent curves her brows, sniffing her nose. Her shoulders slouched and her lips smiled sadly to him. She looks at the boy with a troubled love, honestly not understanding how is it that he can be so good.
Feeling a great deal of easiness while being with her youngest child, Dowager Queen Alicent prayed for forgiveness from the gods, and then lied to him.
-He oft asked for you, your father-. Alicent softly says. She saw Daeron’s immediate surprise and how he instantly smiled. That made her to show her teeth.
-Did he?-, the young princeling asks, wide-eyed and smiley, wanting more than ever to had been here much much sooner.
-He did, many a time-. His mother whispers tenderly, gripping his hand, and caressing his white hair with other. Daeron sincerely smiles to her, lifting his blushed cheeks.
Alicent loves him.
-And did he also…?-
-You ought to sleep, my love-. The Queen interrupted him with a funny reproachful tone, raising her brows. The prince inevitably chuckles, standing up from the bench. She had to look up; all her children are taller than her.
-I shall then-. Daeron agrees, caressing her fingers. Alicent smiles softly to him, blinkless, appreciating his manly features yet all his soft-hearted gestures-. Good night, mom-. He leans forward, placing a sweet kiss on one of her cheeks.
While her son kisses her cheek, and she kisses back one of his, a part of Alicent starts to regret having sent him to bed, and whishes to keep chatting and feeling this kind of tranquility. But she’s also right; her son must rest.
-Sleep well-, she whispered, caressing his fingers with love.
-My queen!-. A startled voice called her from one second to another, Cole’s.
Mother and son both turned their heads with easiness. Still holding hands, Alicent has calm in her eyes and Daeron a little smile on his lips.
-Ser Criston-, the Queen greets him with raised brows. The knight looks highly relieved, walking into the Godswood.
-Worry not, my mother was not alone here-. The prince talks with a funny smile, starting to walk towards the stiff knight. From behind, still standing in front of the bench, her mother chuckles. The sound surprised her Sworn Protector-. Please see that my mom reaches her bedchambers safely, Ser-. He asks.
-I shall see it done, my prince-. Cole immediately agreed. Daeron winks an amused eye.
-Ser Criston-, he farewelled him with a respectful nod, smiling.
-My prince…-, the knight mumbled, nodding back to him.
After a last smile, Daeron left the Godswood. After her child left, Queen Alicent blinked many a time, and the smile on her face got erased. Feeling again her usual uneasiness, she gulped and breathed heavily.
She turns around and approaches to her Sworn Protector, who quickly walked towards hers as well, armored as always.
-Has something happened, Ser Criston?-. She asks distressedly.
-Nothing, Your Grace-. He quickly answered, standing firmly while looking at her-. I had been looking for you for a while, my Queen. Couldn’t find you-. The knight explained his former anguish.
When hearing no bad new, and the man’s worriness, the Queen sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds, relieved but still stressed.
-I was at the Sept praying, Ser Criston-. Alicent informed, scratching her forehead and making her bracelets to jingle.
Cole pressed his lips, staring at her with his brown big eyes, which blinked two times with growing unquietness. He takes a step closer, making her to open her eyes when he suddenly whispered.
-I beg your pardon for my boldness, Your Majesty, but you should not be wandering alone, neither outside the castle gates nor at night-. He mumbled with shame but insistence, looking over her shoulder while talking.
-The Sept is safe-, Alicent shakes her head briefly, making her long curly red mane to bounce with her while a troubled smile.
-…Yet these are not safe times, Your Grace-. The brown-haired knight murmured, this time looking down at her, with loosen brows and blinkless eyes.
Dowager Queen Alicent’s eyes started to became wary. She presses her lips, recalling the events that took place in the Dragonpit, where The Queen Who Never Was and her dragon Meleys broke the pit’s floors, rumbled roars of war, and nearly slashed their fury above all Alicent’s family, if it hadn’t been until a sudden change of heart from the Princess Rhaenys. Only her sudden mercy saved their lives, after attempting against them.
That’s when Alicent gulps, truly understanding his meanings. Cole stares at her with the same worried shame.
-I am your Sworn Protector, my Queen-. He recalled, justifying the advice he just gave her.
-You’re right-. Her airy and weary voice agreed with him, nodding-…you are-. She expanded her lips into a close sad grin.
Softly, Cole nods, lightly lifting the sides of his lips. She did the same and, with this, Queen and Sworn Protector gifted each other tiny but sincere smiles under the white light of the moon.
The redhead woman sighed through her nose, crossing her hands over her belly, and taking a last look around.
-Walk with me, Ser Criston-. She asks, beginning to walk calmly. Doubtlessly, he followed her by her side, as always.
They got into the castle, now walking among the great pale red walls of The Red Keep, having the light of multiple torches along their way.
Queen Alicent sighs, staring front.
-I wanted Daeron to come to King’s Landing not only to have the many dragons as possible with us, but to have him with us too-. She comments, briefly raising her brows under the listen of her guard-…Wanted to be able to see with mine own eyes that he was safe-, she mumbles, looking around as they walk.
Criston looks sideways at her for a second, silently moved by how she talks about her younger son. Seconds the, she sighed, highly heavily.
-Although, now that he is indeed here, I must confess a certain…uneasiness, regarding his safeness…-Alicent mumbles. Cole furrows his brows, looking at her-. I now doubt whether if The Red Keep is the best place to accomplish so-. She admitted, glancing at her feet for a second-. Wonder if it’s safe for any of us-, she quickly murmured, breathing with heaviness.
-The Keep is strong, Your Grace-. Criston is quick to assure and slow to agree with her, in this case. The Queen gulps, gently side-eyeing him while they walk-. So are our men at arms, our dragons and our defenses-. He firmly listed, sure of his words. He stares at her, closing his lips for a quick second-. And so are you, my Queen-. The knight added with confidence.
Alicent stops walking, looking at the floor. Ser Criston stopped too, standing straight and firmly. The Queen gulped, turning her head to look at him. She took a glance around, seeing that they were alone, and afterwards approached to steps closer to him.
Cole almost felt his heart bursting out from his chest.
-We deserve naught of this paranoia, Ser Criston-. The Queen murmured, shaking her head-. The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son-, she insisted with wide eyes, opening her hands and moving them tightly.
-As it has always been, Your Grace-. He quickly nods.
-Not to mention that it was my late husband’s desires, his own words! And…and his brother, Rhaenyra’s husband, no other than Daemon…we all know that one’s nature-. Alicent afflicts her throat with sincere fright. His eyes got cold when thinking of The Rogue Prince.
-Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us-. Ser Criston mumbled with sourness, clenching his armored hands to the sides of his robust body.
-A king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was-. Queen Alicent whispered with bitterness. Criston hums, remembering the stories Aemond has read him of Maegor The Cruel, his Black Brides and his reigning years of terror-…Under his judgement, my father’s head will be the first cut off, I do not doubt it, but your Queen, myself, will soon follow-. She spoke with a low voice, constantly curving her brows.
-Your Grace-, he makes a disgusted worried face, scowling at her.
-Nor will their spare my children-. Alicent declared, gulping so strongly, and blinking with so much fright when saying it. Even the harsh Criston shivered when thinking of that-. Aegon and his brothers are the king’s trueborn sons, with a better claim to the throne than her brood of…plain-featured boys-. Even after Viserys’ death, she can’t find herself capable of saying the word “bastard” out loud, yet no still-. Daemon will find some pretext to put them all to death. Even Helaena and her little ones…-, she whispered, having fright on her eyes. Cole clenched his jaw-. One of her boys put out my Aemond’s eye, never forget, though he was a boy-. She remembers, speaking in whispers.
-He was a boy, aye, but the boy is the father to the man, and bastards are monstrous by nature-. Ser Criston didn’t have the Queen’s sensibility towards the word, and spoke it plainly and without shame. The redhead parted her lips, not stopping him-. Should the princess reign, Your Grace, Jacaerys Velaryon would rule after her; Seven save this realm if we seat a bastard on the Iron Throne-. He spoke bitterly, in whispers.
-And Daera Targaryen by his side-, The Queen whispered too with sourness. Criston pressed his lips harshly when hearing that name-. We can only expect the worst from that girl too, for she’s no different than her tribe-, she denied while shaking her head from one side to another-. What she did to those man in The Vale…butchered them whole…-, Alicent narrows her eyes, recalling that great fuss from those years.
-As her father did to our city as well-. Cole remembered when The Prince of The City took his Gold Cloaks and dismembered nearly half of the capital’s smallfolk, punishing thieves, offenders, rapists and all kinds of evildoers.
Alicent strongly clenches her teeth, approaching one step closer, and whispering even lower.
-And she did it again…when she was here…-, she informed. Criston opens his furrowed eyes bigly, listening closely-. Ash and bone were taken to Flea Bottom by the breeze, from the coast where her dragon always nests-. Alicent whispers, narrowing her eyes-. The same day that she arrived to court with a brain-stained dress and tears of red on her hair-. She pointed out, recalling.
Criston immediately remembers that day, and how she walked into the hall of the Iron Throne with a cocky smile, all bathed in blood. Moments later, her father, The Rogue Prince, was decapitating Ser Vaemond Velaryon.
Alicent gulps, remembering the detailed report that the master of whisperers and Lord Confessor, Lord Larys “Clubfoot” Strong, brought to her about the mine of ashes on Kalistrox’s nest, and the smallfolk that attested to have heard voices of despair pleading for mercy in the air.
-…A bastard and a madwoman ruling the Seven Kingdoms…-, Ser Criston’s murmur came with sourness and angriness whilst he shook his head-. Unforgiving-, he denied.
-It is not just that it cannot be, but that it is not what should-. Queen Alicent raises her brows, insistent-. That chair belongs to my son-, she places a hand on her chest, over her heart-…It always has. Viserys told it to me…long ago too-. She confessed, blinking slowly.
When that came to be said, Ser Criston grew confused, not understanding the “long ago”, for the King died just recently. Alicent opens her mouth, but closes it quickly when seeing a brown-skinned servant walking nearby.
The Queen and her Protector remained silent. The servant, carrying a lemon cake on her hands, bowed her head and quickly walked away, soon turning on a corner and going elsewhere.
Alicent licks her lips, and breathes in deeply, looking at him again.
-Your Grace-, he whispers and nods, listening to her.
-When I was pregnant with Helaena…Viserys told me about a dream of his, a dream that- well, a dream that he had when Queen Aemma was still alive-. She whispered, surprising the knight, for he thought about how long ago that was-. He dreamed of a son birthed to him, being crowned!-. Alicent curved her brows, speaking with passion. Ser Criston parted his lips, shocked-. My husband expressed to me how much he desired that to be truth, how he saw in that dream The Conqueror’s crown placed on his son’s head and his sword on his hand-. The Queen recalls as if it has been yesterday, as it has been moments ago, and not more than twenty years-…He said he wanted it…-, she murmured slowly, blinkless, remembering that night.
Ser Criston, speechless, watches her every move and listens to her every word. This just reassures everything they’re fighting for; he thinks.
-He told me on Aegon’s second nameday-. Alicent confessed, closing her eyes for a few moments. Criston opened his widely, instantly remembering those times, that night, that hunt in the Kingswood where Rhaenyra made a fuss out of her emotions, as always, drowning herself in a cup of water.
Cole parts his lips, taking the information in. Moments then, he speaks.
-Prince Aemond once told me about the dreams some Targaryen have…-, he recalls with a low voice, and she starts to nod-. If I’m not mistaking…Daenys the Dreamer dreamed Old Valyria’s doom-. The knight says, thoughtful.
-Which happened, eventually, within the years; Daenys’ dream was true-. Alicent quickly nods, raising her brows. He gulps; he has always been kind of fascinates -to not say intimidated- by the Targaryens and their history-. Viserys’ is too-. She thinly whispers, from the bottom of her heart. Her knight looks at her with big secure eyes.
-It will be, my Queen-. He nods under the crystal hazel gaze of hers-. I shall be by your side and your children’s, until my last breath, Your Grace-. Fiercely, he promised, never blinking.
Alicent curves her brows, and gulps. She appreciates it heartily, closing her eyes while nodding. The Queen sighs with distress, caressing her forehead, realizing just now that she had been sweating.
-I thank you, Ser Criston…-. A soft whisper left her lips. He nods with determination.
Dowager Queen Alicent gulps, and then starts to form a smile on her closed lips. A minute then, she opens her eyes, and looks at him.
-…Helaena is with child-, she informed with an easy mumble. Ser Criston instantly froze; any firm look on him faded away and his eyes immediately shined with surprise and happiness, his mouth went open.
Such expression from her serious guard made the Queen laugh openly, which she rarely does.
-Maester Orwyle says her course is three moons already-. Alicent whispered with great emotion.
Ser Criston took the liberty to laugh, curving his brows, and clenching his teeth with excitement and pride.
And, as they speak of Helaena, let us turn to her…
Queen Helaena’s handmaiden, Claudia, delivered a small-sized lemon cake to the Queen’s chambers when she asked her for that favor. Claudia recalled it was not a favor but a duty for her to obey her commands; Helaena pointed out that not when it was this late and she should be asleep.
Nevertheless, the kind Claudia had not trouble in bringing the dessert to her rooms. After thanking her, and gifting her a slice of the cake, Helaena took the pastry into her bedchambers, having a shining smile on her lips, showing all her teeth.
The Queen sliced two slices of cake. Now we find her kneeled on the bed and, in front of her, are her two children. The twins both excitedly see their mother handing them a slice of lemon cake for them to enjoy; she was giggling as she handed it to them.
-Happy name day…-, Helaena whispered with a glim of love on her purple eyes.
Jaehaerys was the first one to cheer, shrieking and immediately starting to eat. Jaehaera soon followed, taking a big bite of cake with a smile on her face. Kneeled and slouched in front of them, Helaena scrunched her nose into a smile and clapped excited.
The mother sees how her twins enjoy their dessert. The hour has grown late, indeed, but it seems that neither of them are sleepy. In the solitude and darkness of the bedchambers, Queen Helaena is happy to share this moment with her children, who are already a year now. Time flies…
While they eat calmly, the Queen sweetly pushed the twin’s heads with softness and neared them to her to place tender kisses on both their cheeks. She laughed so happily when feeling the kids kissing her too, leaving crumbs of cake on her pale skin.
After kissing their mother, they went on with their dessert.
-Oh-, Helaena giggles with sweetness, passing a thumb in Jaehaera’s lips to clean some crumbs-. Messy girl-, she whispered along funny chuckles.
-Um-, Jaehaera emits amusing sounds while her mother cleans her-. Daera-, a sudden babble left her lips.
In that moment, the white-haired woman froze, slowly getting away her hand from her girl.
-Yes-, she silly whispers.
-Daera-. ‘Twas Jaehaerys now who spoke.
-UH- Yes!!-. Their mother laughs, covering her mouth that smiled greatly.
Helaena blinks in shock, not believing that they had just named Daera; they haven’t seen her for days already, and still said her name for the first time, perfectly and- and she’s not here to listen.
Helaena feels her lips starting to tremble, and bitter tears coming up to her sudden sad eyes while she still smiles. The Queen feels her children miss their aunt. And for the love of whoever god that exists, she does too. Daera hasn’t left her mind nor heart since the last time she saw her. She just never leaves.
But now they’re apart, far away and completely oblivious to when they shall see each other again. These quarrel between their families, these stupid acts…
Helaena sobs weakly, closing her sad eyes while her lips curved down. She weeps Daera’s name, yearning and longing for her. What’s happening scares her so much, and what’s to come scares her even deeper. It is not worry about herself she worries; is about the ones she loves…the ones that are far in more danger.
“Daera, Daera, Daera…”
It seems that Helaena got so excited when Claudia brought her the lemon cake, that when she closed the door and walked to her twins with pure happiness, forgot to lock.
The doors are opened without notice, making the Queen to quickly turn around her head, still slouched on the bed. Entering to her chambers she found her King husband, arriving with weary steps, baggy eyes, long thin scarring wounds in his arms, and a great bulk on his pants.
Helaena’s face instantly became paler than usual, and her throat afflicted. Her husband grumbles, delicately closing the doors of the bedchamber. He did lock.
-Come-, his hoarse voice fills the room. Her superior lip tremble, looking at his red tired eyes-. Come-, he did a soft hand gesture to her.
-‘Tis the children’s birthday-. She is quick to say, weakly and fearful, blinkless.
-Helaena, I said come-. The King raises his brows. He limped for a second, too drunk to keep a straight posture-. Come, come, come-. He tsks his tongue, hating she was so still.
-Not in front of them please-. The Queen wept with a shaky voice.
Impatient and chaotic, Aegon II growled with despair and shot out walking quickly towards the bed of the room. Queen Helaena gasped and fastly came down of it from the other side. The children’s father grunts, clashing his hands on the mattress with distress.
After rapidly glancing at the children, the Queen turned around and ran further from there; thus, he followed her and got away from the kids.
-When I tell you to come…!-, Aegon left the rest of his words in the air, spitting on the floor as he ran foolishly to her, nearly stumping.
Helaena breathes fastly, coming out to the balcony with fast steps and scared eyes. She looks everywhere within a second, clearly knowing she got no way out. When she looked down for a millisecond, she saw the spikes below Maegor’s Holdfast.
-…YOU COME!!-. Aegon reached her angrily, surprising her from behind, and grabbing her wrists with great strength.
Queen Helaena gasped airless when he touched her, nearly breaking her neck when she looked up as if she was burned in a pyre. She looked up, and yet what she saw wasn’t the moon nor the stars.
She saw a thousand hanging men of blue, red and green flowing blood.
She saw her mother standing on the shore of a lake.
She saw blood running down a woman's legs.
Aegon made Helaena to end on the floor, forcing her to sit, only to then crawl over her, pressing his manhood against her shaky closed legs. His queen cries with fear, eyes-closed, shaking her head while mumbling nonsenses.
-They dance…-. Helaena cries with a broken voice, suddenly gasping for air and opening her eyes. She finds Aegon on top of her; she feels his kisses on her neck and his hand searching for her womanhood-. N-no! No! No!-. She shrieks as an agonizing hart, wanting to crawl away from his touch.
-Ay no no no, Helaena, you- Just stay quiet, bitch-. Aegon tsks his tongue with so much annoyance, babbling out his words, keeping her wrists prisoners of his hands.
Helaena’s red throat pains while she cries endlessly, strongly closing her eyes while her tits are being licked and her skirt lifted. The Queen lets out a scared sob, now moveless. Her husband sighed with the smile of a fool, feeling her warm body.
With a hand, Aegon gets his cock out and taps it against his wife’s thighs, making her to squeal with great horror. She grunted a cry and nearly turned around to craw far from him, but he quickly let go of his member and grabbed both her hands again.
-No!-, a broken sob leaves the Queen’s itchy throat.
-I came here to fuck-. Aegon smiles charmingly, looking down at her with his red eyes-. Not to be suffocated by all this fucking weeping!-, he erased his smile and whispered right to her face with anger.
Helaena sobs, pressing her trembling lips, looking at her greatest nightmare talking above of her; he’s a demon paralyzing her.
-Your running away’s from me are at an end-. Aegon growls maniacally, violently pushing one of her legs, opening them. Helaena cries endlessly, shaking her head from side to side-. I am King now-, he whispers bitterly.
He harshly gripped her chin, squeezing it, and from a moment to another penetrated her dry womanhood within a second, completely entering it. The Queen let out a cry so hurted, afflicting her throat and showing her teeth with pain.
On the other hand, The King afflicted his throat with pleasure, and showed his teeth when he smiled madly.
-Oh, yeah-. He moans, thrusting into her time after time.
Unable to cry out loud due to the hand squeezing her mouth and chin, The Queen can’t but cry silently, moveless and speechless, only hoping for it to be over already.
-You…-, King Aegon II’s red eyes of madness stared right at hers. She’s now realizing that there’s blood under his left eye-. You are to serve me, sister-. He declared with a cough and a smile.
Helaena sobs terribly, feeling all of his violent thrusts, his violent grip. The Queen, weakly, could glance at her children for one quick second. She cried harder when finding them watching at them with parted lips; they’re no longer eating cake.
Queen Helaena weeps with great terror, closing her eyes strongly.
A thousand hanging men of blue, red and green flowing blood.
Her mother standing on the shore of a lake.
She saw blood running down a woman's legs.
-They danc-…!-. Helaena whines while her husband moans with a smile, trying his best to ignore her and just enjoy of her body-. They dance with crooked shoes!-, a broken sob left her throat.
-SHUT IT!-. Done with her nonsense, King Aegon punched his Queen right in her head.
And so Helaena was plunged into temporary darkness; she found calm.
■ ■ ■
Be welcomed to The Neck.
The narrow isthmus that connects the North to the rest of Westeros.
We’re now right beyond the border of the riverlands; we’re now officially in the North. Winds have change, of course; the wind is colder and harsher, dry but at the same time it makes one’s forehead sweat.
The swamplands of the Neck are by far the largest in all of Westeros, making it a rather unique biome. During day you can appreciate deep green trees, a lot of moss everywhere, and frogs jumping all around. However, ‘tis nighttime now, and the moonlight is not enough to light the lushness at its best.
Jace, Daera and their dragons had flown as discreetly as possible between the clouds of the night, for they didn’t want anyone to see them; they succeeded. The princes and their dragons took place as deeply in the swamp as possible, away enough from any camp and small civilization they checked from the skies. After wandering above the woods for some time, they decided upon a clean spot clean of mud or subterranean caves -at least cleaner the other spots-.
To their better accommodation, they opened in the ground as many of the bedsheets they could. They left two apart to cover themselves when they went to sleep, and with the remaining made an improvised mattress, not royally thick but neither too thin. In a free-of-sheet spot they left in the middle, they lighted a modest fire with a gentle sigh from Vermax.
With their “camp” now established, the princes are lying in their improvised mattress of fur. Both Daera and Jace have their heads resting in their luggage, using them as pillows. Both of them also have their respective dragon right by their side, keeping them warmer and safer. Basically, they’re surrounded by their dragons, who’re also lying in the ground.
Jacaerys is nearly falling asleep, tenderly watched by Vermax, who’s face is resting by his, breathing calmly too. On the other side, Daera has a golden tall wall by her. Kalistrox head rests over a fallen tree whilst his tail is nearly reaching the shore of a lake that is far from them. You cannot even imagine how uncomfortable it was for him to land in the swamp, watching to not mess with any tree. Matters to say that the one he’s resting his chin in is one of three he accidentally threw with one of his horns.
The Rogue Princess, playing with the handles of both her sword and her new dagger, which both remain strapped to the belt on her waist, watches her dragon with dearness. She raises a hand; her sweet fingers and palm caress Kalistrox’s limbs, lightly scratching them. The Golden Ray sighed loudly and purred with gentleness, blinking slowly. His princess smiled quietly.
The dragon’s sound made prince Jacaerys to open his sleepy eyes within a second, for they took him out of his nearing sleep. He breathes in with tiredness, humming lowly and scratching his eyes.
-Ouh shit-, the princess turns her head to look at him-. Sorry, did I wake you up?-. She whispers with same, scrunching her nose.
-No no, I was just resting my eyes-. The prince answers with a kind smile, and a hoarse sleepy voice. His sister snorts a little laugh, curving his brows-. Hmmm…-, he sighs again, crossing his arms behind his head-. They still ought to eat-, he remembers.
-Uhum-, his wife nods, eyeing Kalistrox while still caressing him. Jace lifts his gaze towards the Golden Dragon, feeling that it is a fortress that he’s looking at, for the beast is so tall and thick. He gulped, having the greatest of respects for his siter’s dragon.
-…He’s growing by the second, I think-. Prince Jacaerys murmured after some moments of quietness. Not looking at him, Daera lifted her lips into a small prideful smile.
-He is-, she agrees, whispering while scratching his limbs.
-Does he still fits in the Pit?-. He questions with curiosity, narrowing his eyes.
-I think he still does, at least he did the last time-. Daera shrugges, cocking her head-. Barely-, she quickly pointed, lifting a finger.
-‘Tis no wonder to me-. Jace mumbles, watching at his impeccable golden scales. He presses a smile, caressing Vermax’s horn with slowness.
Daera looks at Kalistrox distanced face. Her dragon eyed back at her, which made her to smile, kindly lifting her lips as a mother to her child would when seeing him laugh. The dragon purrs and closes his eyes, at ease.
The princess keeps staring at him, slowly becoming thoughtful. Jace looks at her again, finding her purple eyes looking at the fire interestedly; she looks beautiful.
-Do you remember that time when we were in the Dragonmont, walking over Vermithor’s nest?-. Daera asks from a moment to another, turning his head to look at him.
-Yes-, Jace quickly answers with an easy tone, raising his brows-. The other day when Daemon dared us to walk into the cave, and you almost did?-. He narrows his eyes with a playful smile.
-Haha-, his sister cackles two times. Jace chuckles, curving his brows-. That day-, she nods-. Well, did you know that…? Ah-. The princess accommodates herself better, turning her body to face him completely. Jacaerys did the same, interested, trying to not fix his eyes on the beautiful curve her waist has when lying sideways.
-Why?-. He questions, speaking curiously.
-I almost did because I wanted to see him, to see if Kalistrox could already be larger than him-. The princess confessed with honesty. That surprised his brother, whose eyes shined.
-Vermithor is to be said the second largest-. He murmurs, thinking of Vhagar, who is the first-. Do you think it possible?-. Jace asks with great interest.
-All the dragonkeepers from both Dragonstone and King’s Landing keep telling me these last moons is how much Kalistrox has been growing!-. The Rogue Princess speaks with a passionate hope, nodding quickly-. Vermithor barely flies out of his cave, what-…what if Kalistrox is bigger?-. She whispered, narrowing her eyes while picturing it.
-Can you imagine?-. Jacaerys smiles mesmerized, with narrow eyes too. His sister smiled, gladden with his same enthusiasm-. So, you wanted to know…-, he mumbles as he nods, recalling that day again.
-I still do-. The princess corrected him. Her brother raised his brows with acceptance, and she sucked her inferior lip with funniness.
Jacaerys gives her a cheerful smile, giggling lowly while looking at her. Daera chuckles lightly, still sucking her lips when she took a look around them.
A thousand cricket sing near them, as a hundred frogs do too. The sound of a stream soothes their ears when there is silence, which there was, until the white-haired spoke again.
-‘Tis weirdly ugly here, don’t you think?-. She comments, studying the surroundings. Prince Jacaerys did the same, only that with a growing smile on his humid lips-. Still, the northmen have never been known for a taste on eye-lusty lands-, she shrugges.
-What are they known for?-. The prince asks with an amused calmed tone. His wife makes a pout with her lips, thinking for two seconds.
-Baela once said they’re too pretty and too serious-. Daera shrugged, and he started to laugh-. I guess that sums them up pretty well-, she laughs as well.
-We shall see-. Jace raised his brows; she looked at him with cocky eyes, humming lowly when thinking about the lord they’ll be meeting soon-. And as an opposite to your statement, sister, I must admit I find certain beauty in this land-. He admitted with no shame, gaining a funny curious face from her-. Knowing something or someone’s story makes them more dazzling, I’d dare to say-. Jace nodded to a side.
-Ouh!-. Daera raises her brows-. Oh well, then…-. The princess drags herself a little closer and takes more comfort on her position, opening her eyes wide and smiling hugely when exaggerating curiosity-. I’m all ears-, she said with a funny voice.
Her brother-husband lifted his blushing cheeks and laughed. He took the liberty to also get closer, which his wife stared at with calculating smiling eyes, quietly.
-Well, there’s no much to it-. Jacaerys smiles modestly. She snorts and he grinned, rolling his eyes blank for a second-. In ancient times, the Neck was ruled by the Marsh King of the crannogmen-. And so Jace uses his “studying voice”, that he always employs whether when reading, discussing politics or -a new addition- treating with lords and ladies about alliances. Daera raises her brows, listening with a smile-. They submitted to House Stark when Rickard Stark, King in the North, defeated the Marsh King and took his daughter as wife-. He tells.
-Romantic-, she mumbles. Jacaerys licks his lips within a smile, looking down for a second.
-The crannogmen have maintained their ancient allegiance to House Stark, though…well, contact between them and the outside world has faded away to almost nothing, in these past years-. He mumbles while cocking his head, speaking softly-. Maester Gerardys told me-, he added-. But yet I know that the Starks wouldn’t even dream with disengage The Neck from them-, Jacaerys denies.
-Why not?-, she asked with a tender whisper, loving how he knows and speaks his histories by heart.
-The Neck presents a formidable tactical obstacle to anyone planning to invade the North!-. Jace responded with obviousness, raising his brown brows. She giggles and nods with great interest-. Did you know this place was instrumental in holding off the Andals during the coming of the Andals six thousand years ago?-. He asks with bemusement, shaking his head.
-Now I do-, the princess nodded, and he scoffed with marvel, now nodding.
-But, however, it is not effective against…ha, airborne dragons-. The prince said with undeniable pride, eyeing the two beast that sleep by their side.
-Such realization lead King Torrhen Stark, the last King in the North, to his decision to bend the knee to Aegon the Conqueror during the Conquest-. Princess Daera spoke with cocky smile and tone, raising her brows. Her husband licked his lips while smiling, nodding-. I used to read that story with father nearly every night, back in Pentos-. She remembers.
-Ah-, Jace smiles to her, slowly nodding.
-Hum-, Daera lets out a cute chuckle, turning her head to look at the white moon above-. The Conquest…-, she whispers-. Well, we already have something to chat about with Lord Cregan-. Daera cheers funnily.
-Aye-. The prince laughs, cheering too-. And a lot more of things-, he added.
-Yes…-. The princess breathes in deeply while looking around, not knowing that her husband is forever staring at her-. The North may not be the fastest ally, due to its location, but they surely will be the worthiest-. Daera points out with honesty, blinkless for a few second. She hears him humming, agreeing with her-…You’re right-. She mumbled.
-About what?-, he questions with a soft voice.
-Something is more dazzling when knowing its history-. Daera said into a playful sweet tone, looking at the trees and the stars above.
Blinkless, Jacaerys lifts the sides of his lips into a thoughtful expression. While feeling Vermax’s near body keeping him warm, the prince soon speaks his mind again.
-May I ask something, then, about our history?-. He questions with politeness, making her to look at him again. Her purple eyes smiled.
-Targaryen or Velaryon? I know many-, she proposes-. Wanna hear ‘bout King Aenys I and how I would give my live to have met him?-. Her face lit up with pride.
-…Us-. The Velaryon prince softly corrected her, barely moving his lips when whispering. Daera blinks bigly, only one time, staring at him with inevitable surprise-. I mean about…us…-, he whispered. And soon, she began to nod.
-You may-, she agreed.
-On our wedding night...why didn't you consummate with me?-. Jacaerys didn’t wait to ponder his question; Daera felt time froze. He’s blushing fastly-…Why didn't we?-, he murmurs.
-I…-, Daera blinks very slowly, finding the right words while beginning to shrug her shoulders-. I think that…I think that I never had thought about it before, honestly-. She has-. Good question-. She points at him.
-Uhum-, Jacaerys nods, patiently but presently waiting for an answer.
Daera presses her lips and sighs through her nose while staring at him. The answer is far from simple and yet it consists of an only word: Aemond.
-I guess I was heart-broken-. The princess Daera answered with a low tone, shrugging-. I was…besotted with another, you see…-
She still is.
-You have always been my brother-. Daera murmurs, lightly furrowing her brows. Jace watches her with attentive eyes and listening ears-. I always loved you as so-. She points out with a soft tone, nodding-. So, to have been turned into your wife, from a day to another, well…-. The princess sighs, opening her eyes big when she sighed with pure honesty-…I didn’t desire you-. She declared.
-Now you do?-. Jace’s question was automatic, asked within a second. Daera parted her lips, surprised. It was just then that the prince realized his thoughts had slipped out of his lips. He gulps, feeling heat reaching his cheeks.
Before speaking, the prince had been thinking about what took place in the Eyrie, between them. He thought about everything: Daera grabbing his jacket’s neck and pulling him closer to her; she purring at him, pushing down his shoulder so his mouth met her womanhood; she moaned with a smile and, while caressing his brown mane between her legs, called him a good boy.
Remembering all that apparently made the prince ask his question without much anticipation. But, accepting that he already did it, he moved on, and spoke again.
-Do you feel that I am…enough?-. He questions, narrowing his brown eyes. Nerves glim in them.
In that moment, sincere curiosity glammed on Daera’s purple orbs. The princess breathed in, accommodating her shoulders on their mattress; she got closer to him, blinkless under his gaze, which follows her every move.
She didn’t answer; but made another question herself.
-From the first day we were wed, and even days before that, I noticed that…-Daera narrowed her eyes, speaking firmly and curiously-…that you did want to consummate our marriage…-, the princess murmured.
They both recall that night. They had to sleep together, as the Seven dictate it must be done on a wedding night. They shared a bed, same blanket and same big pillow. She was drinking wine, jesting, joking, giggling all around; she was content…but she never touched him. And him…well, it seemed as Jace was starving even for a kiss on his cheek, or a caress on his hair, even a blow from her breath to his lips.
-You wanted to do it-. Daera points within a mumble, blinking slowly. She sees how his cheeks has gotten redder than before; he is not blinking, looking at her while nodding lightly-. And yet, you have always seen me only as your sister-. She says, recalling the feelings he used to have for Baela, their sister, not her. They’re faded now, since a long ago, but the question still rises-…Why was it so easy for you?-. The princess asked, confused.
Jacaerys breathed in through his nose, staring at her. The reflection of the fire flames dances in her confused face, in her curious violet eyes. Her long curly mane wiggles a little too, with the wind and Vermax’s breathing. After some seconds, the prince let a sigh out.
-Because I knew who I was getting wedded to-. The Heir to the Iron Throne answered with firmness, closing his eyes. In that moment, Daera grew even more confused, tilting her head to a side-. You are one of the most beautiful maidens of the realm, if not the most. Each lord -either paramount or vassal-, each steward, servant and knight speak of your beauty everywhere I go, anywhere I step into. There have been tourneys on your honor, men fighting for your favor and bless! Quarreling to just have you to look at them!-. Jacaerys speaks with admiration, narrowing his eyes.
Daera, bemused, listens with parted lips, which started to smile with surprise and flattery while looking at him. The princess scoffs while he talks, seeing the shine on his eyes, listening to the passion in his voice.
-I took as my wife the most precious and desired woman in the Seven Kingdoms-. Jace declared, straightening his shoulders whilst he talks, slowly taking seat in the mattress. She follows him with her eyes, having her head resting on one of her hands. He looked down at her, and stuttered, blinkless. Then he sighed; his shoulders fell-… I wanted to be up to the gift of owning that-. He confessed, simple but sincere, shrugging.
Warmly, Daera looks at him, curving her brows a little. That was shortly, for then she snorted with amusement.
-Oh-, she closed her eyes and widened a sarcastic smile on her lips-. So I am a responsibility for you, huh?-. Daera questioned with fun, laughing burlesque. Jace quickly furrows his brows, shaking his head with confusion-. Tell me, brother, is everything a duty for you?-. She tauntly asks, scrunching her nose.
-You are not following-. He fastly denied, firmly. Funnily, she pressed her smiling lips and nodded with gentleness, allowing him to speak again, thinking that she’d hear more of the same-. I see you as no trophy, I swear this to you-. The prince declared with a stiff lip, never stuttering nor blinking. His sister looks at him with eyes that slowly started to lose all glim of diversion-. I see you for what you are: someone there are no two of. I wanted to be enough for you-. Jace narrowed his eyes, slouching; his face got a little closer to hers, who’s staring at him with parted lips, shocked-…I still want to-. He confessed, true and honest.
The princess stares at him with reading eyes, analyzing every expression he makes. All are sincere and filled of dearness. He is speaking his truth, perhaps for the first time since the day they were wed.
-It’s not that is my responsibility to make you happy; I know you can very well achieve it on your own account-. Jace laughed a little, raising his brows. Shocked, Daera chuckles lightly too, curving her frown while looking at him at all moments. His brown eyes are dilatated-. It’s just that…you deserve that effort from me, it is the least- the least you deserve-. Jacaerys whispers as he touches his chest with his own warm hands, tapping his ten fingers over his heart, which is beating so fastly-. And as your husband -call it “duty”, if you so like- I want to give it to you; I want to make you happy-. The prince said with pure genuineness and openness.
Bemused, Daera lift she lifts the corner of her lips, curving her brows as well while looking at him with an inevitable tenderness, and surprise. “How not to feel this moved, this warmed?” She’s speechless, for he had never been so honest before, not like this. Not this…beautifully, in search of nothing more than acceptance from her.
Taking advantage of the tremendous loneliness of the swamp, the great distance from their home, and that he has already said too much, he sent all nerves to the Seven Hells…and leaned closer to his sacred wife.
-I lust for you, Daera…-. Jacaerys confessed with the sweetest of whispers, and the warmest of eyes. Daera gasped briefly, opening her lips, looking at him with pureness, and a light smile that began to thrive on her lips. He looks at them, breathing deeply-. I love you-, he murmured, a little weak now.
It is now that everything makes sense, that everything clicked in the princess’ mind. Jacaerys, her “fake” husband, had been slowly and silently falling in love with her…and it is just now that he’s having the guts to confess it, when they are at the other side of the world, in a cold swamp with their dragons.
-Oh…-, Daera sighed, raising a hand and placing it on his neck, caressing his brown hair with her tender fingers. He breathes deeply, always staring at her-. I love you too, Jace-. She warmly said, dragging her fingers to a side of his face to caress his burning cheek. He lightly raised his brows, lost on her purple loving eyes-…I always have…-, the princess whispered, honest.
Jace scoffed, with a happiness and nerves that he couldn’t hide very well. He bit the inner of his cheeks, sucked his inferior lips, and looked down whilst trying to hide a smile, chewing it. That expression remembered her of Rhaenyra. Daera leaned her head to a side and looked at him with a dear grin, feeling how warm his cheeks are.
-Oh, for the gods’ sake…-. Daera whispers, narrowing her eyes. She is so moved; she is so happy he has told her this. Why? Why is she? How does she exactly feel about this? Why doesn’t it bother her, as their whole marriage once did?
-I know that we married off for duty, but…-. Jace speaks, looking up again. He takes both her hands, resting his chin in them. Daera snorts a cute laugh, wrinkling the sides of her eyes-. But…!-, he laughs too, caressing her fingers-…I have learned so much from you, Daera; you have taught me so much-. He declares, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes-. I only ever want your best-. Jace whispers with softness.
-And I yours, my prince…-. Daera murmured with the same tenderness as him, feeling the soft caresses on her fingers.
Jace smiled to her, not showing his teeth. Moments then, that smile slowly started to fade away, which confused her.
-What is it?-. She whispers, holding his hands tighter. He smiles lightly again, looking up at her, then gulping, then fading his smile again.
-I also wanted to ask about…about Aemond-. Jace spoke, inevitably uncomfortable, pressing his lips.
When Daera heard his name, her body froze. She didn’t see it -thank the gods she didn’t- but when Aemond was named, her eyes flickered, and afterwards they blinked with what appeared to be shame, and embarrassment. Jace did notice it, gulping.
-Can I ask?-. With honesty, the prince asked for permission, patiently. His wife looked down with sad eyes, not wanting him to see the glum in her pupils, but he is. After some silent seconds, she starts to nod, allowing him to continue.
This is the first time they have said The One-Eyed Prince’s name between them, since they got married. He had faded to Daera’s past, until now.
-It has been a year already, I think, or nearly a year-. Jacaerys mumbles, starting to caress her fingers again. She gulps strongly, thinking of Aemond and all the- the wrongs he has done to her-. Do you…do you think this was the right decision?-. And so, Jace asked with no restriction. Her lips almost trembled in that moment, looking at him with them pressed-. Us?-, he whispered.
Slowly, Daera takes her hands away from his, taking seat in front of him while crossing her arms on her chest. The prince gulps, patient. Daera looks down, feeling a great lump on her throat, and a thousand knives on her heart.
She imagines a reality where she had never really been with Aemond; one where she would have married Jace, with heart and desire, not convenience and politics. A reality where he had never followed her into Flea Bottom, nor to that alley either. A reality where she had never seduced him first, nor defended his violence and cruelty. A reality where she…had never lied to her family and dear ones.
If that were her reality, she would have saved herself from so much pain, dilemmas, arguments and fights with her family. She would have saved herself from so many tragedies. As soon as she heard of the usurpation of the Iron Throne, she and her dragon would have flown to King's Landing and would have burned them all.
When hearing Jace’s question, Daera’s head thought by its own, not sugar-coating anything. It thought this: Everything would be easier if she wasn’t in love with prince Aemond Targaryen.
To think that hurted her so much, her chest ached. Daera gulps and shakes her head from side to side, whilst her husband waits for an answer.
She smiles tinyly, looking at him.
-Had I continued walking down with Aemond…-, her eyes flickered for a second-…I’d be lost…-, she confessed within a whisper.
What hurted the most was that it is no lie, that it is no “if”. Daera Targaryen has been lost since she fell in love with Aemond Targaryen. How expensive that’s going to cost her.
-You…-, Daera takes Jace’s hands again, firmer than ever. Blinkless, he looks at her with determination and love. She gulps, wanting to cry, but not succumbing herself to it-. You are my right decision, Jace-. The princess declared with a stiff voice, looking into his brown eyes.
-Oh!-. In that moment, the prince breathed out with a huge smile, and a relieved expression. She gulps again and starts to smile as well, pampering his fingers with soft caresses-. I- I am glad to hear that-. He stutters. Daera softens her eyes, sighing while looking at him-. I was always afraid to ask; I was afraid you…you resented me-. He admitted, pressing his lips with embarrassment.
-What?-, she parts her lips, opening her eyes big.
-Hence why you- why you never slept with me-. Jacaerys stutters and shrugges, being honest with her.
-That’s not true-. Daera is quick to deny, shaking her head. She holds his hands stronger, nearing them to her chest. The brown-haired prince looks at her with heart-eyes, listening closely-. I would never, never resent you on Aemond’s behalf-. She promised with firmness-. I am not cruel…or stupid enough to do that-. Daera rolled her eyes.
Jacaerys showed his teeth, laughing tenderly. Unable to don’t too, Daera sighed and chuckled with him, closing her eyes. As soon as she did it, she saw Aemond’s face, so quickly opened them again, gulping.
Daera looks down, pressing her lips with a thoughtful gaze, under Jace’s loving one. Moments then, she breathed in and started to stand up. He quickly did so too, looking around and then at her again.
-They haven’t dined yet-. The princess spoke with a soft tone, staring at her golden awaked dragon. Jace quickly eyes Vermax, who purred, looking back at him.
-You’re right-. The prince nods, now tending all his attention to his dragon.
Daera blinks slowly, caressing Kalistrox while breathing in. She got lost on her mind, until he called her.
-Daera-, Jace named. When she turned around, got surprised when seeing him already on his saddle, ready to take flight-. Join me…-, his voice is tender and his smile a happy one, cocking his head towards the sky.
She smiles softly, looking at his brown eyes.
-I shall join you, in a minute-. The princess said-. You go ahead. I will put off the fire first-. She says, pointing at the flames with her purple eyes.
Narrowing his eyes with that smile still on his lips, Jacaerys nodded towards her, smitten.
-Sōves, Vermax-. The prince commanded him to fly with a soft mumble, patting his neck.
Within the seconds, the green dragon of yellow eyes took off from the woods, easily dodging the trees on his way, for he has the perfect size for it. Soon enough, the prince and his dragon were in the sky, looking for a proper supper for the majestic beast.
When she was left alone with her dragon, the princess Daera blinks in silence. Her eyes got lost in the humid mud, her hands on her abdomen.
Looking at the ground, she thinks of Aemond.
It feels the last time she saw him was ages ago, and it was far from a pleasing encounter. “Where do we stand now?”, she asks herself, worried and inevitably angry. He has been doing so bad, acting accord his family’s whishes and not taking hers in mind. What she said to Rhaenys before parting off Dragonstone is true; she wants to punish Aemond for his sick doings, for placing a rapist on the throne. She will, but…when? When are they to see each other again? Where, how? Is she to fly to Lovers Island and expect for him to go too? She cannot. What would they say to each other? Would he kiss her? Would he ask for forgiveness as soon as he sees her purple eyes again? Those that have always give him love and understanding. How could he have betrayed them? When will he be sorry for it? Because he will. She’s sure.
Caressing her belly, she thinks of Alyssa.
How is it that, in this world, things go on so quickly? One day she used to not see herself as a mother, then she wanted nothing but a child product of her love with her husband, then they agreed on it, the next day her husband made her to drink away that child. “How could it be?”. Daera dreamed, and lost her dream so fastly in the bat of a lash, the blink of an eye, the breaking of a heart. A babe was supposed to thrive on her royal belly, but it didn’t; perhaps the gods wanted so. “Fuck you gods then, and give me my child”, the princess cursed in her mind. Alyssa was conceived in Lovers’ Island. And the very next day, in that very same place, she was taken away.
Daera curves her brows, pressing her lips while she thinks in all of that. Feeling her deep sadness, and turning his head to look at her glum eyes, Kalistrox purred with sweetness, looking to comfort her.
-Please, don’t…-. His rider sighed with a tired voice when she heard him. The Golden Ray still purrs, lightly, as down as her. Daera shakes her head, squeezing her belly with her fingers-. You’ll make me cry, dearest…-, she said with unquietness, sniffing her nose, and forcing herself to draw her hands away from her belly-. I will not-, she declared.
He blinked slowly, looking at her. Daera straightens her shoulders, and blinks a few times; then she glanced at him.
-Jikãgon jurnegon syt issa (Go for your supper)-. The princess ordered raising her brows. Kalistrox growls lowly, eyeing the sky for a second and then at her-. Go!-, Daera pressed her lips when seeing him slowly standing up from the muddy ground. The golden dragon carefully lifts his wings, shaking his neck with a little doubt on his gaze-. You’re hungry-, she whispered.
After another low growl, Kalistrox opened his wings as big as possible, crawling a little away from there. Daera walks backwards with no hurry, stepping away from his thick tail. She crosses her hand over her belly, seeing him shaking his neck again with unquietness while looking at the multiple trees.
Moments then, The Golden Ray took off with one big flap from his wings, which lifted him up in the air within a second. His paw kicked the tall pines when flying across them. They wiggled like crazy. Their wood and sticks cracked, making the princess to look up with carefulness, watching that nothing fell on her.
Having learned from his difficult landing from before, Kalistrox took off with skilled maneuvers. He zig-zagged, as he has watched Caraxes do; no tree fell, and he headed towards the grey clouds while roaring out with sharpness and freedom, quickly getting away from the humidity. Inevitably, his rider looked up at him while siding a small smile.
-Smart boy-, she whispered to him along a little chuckle.
Daera is now by herself in this ugly, lush and lonely swamp. The princess looks down at the fire that still burns in the middle of the furs. While looking at it, the princess’ ears catch the sound of a nearby stream.
She made a pout with her lips, grabbed an empty jar they had use for their supper, and followed that sound with easy-going steps.
While walking, the princess thinks of how beautiful Lovers Island is. When the sun is not blessing it, a clear moon is. The sand is always white and warm, the waters fresh and sound. A kind breeze always blows softly towards their handmade hut, and in there their home is always waiting for them.
Daera tried to picture all that, but here, in this swamp. Many would think that it wouldn’t be the same at all, but the princess thinks it would be the very same. Lovers Island is beautiful, but its meaning does not fall on its beaches, sun and sand; but in the lovers that live there. This could very well be Lovers Swamp with no problem.
After chasing away a couple of curious frogs with her hands, Daera soon arrived at the place where that sound she followed came from. She arrives to a small river almost entirely covered by fog. In here are less crickets than in the other place, so it is quieter.
The princess keeps walking, grabbing the jar in one hand, and her own fingers in the other. She plans to take some water from the river, to go and kill off the fire, and then join Vermax and Jace in the skies. A flight would make her good right now, to be honest; she has a lot of stress to free.
But, postponing her task for a while, Daera stopped walking at the very shore of the river, and remained moveless. A cold breeze blows her dress and her curly mane, making it to bounce on her back. Her arms are loose to the sides of her body, applying no force. The fog in front of her gets sad when seeing her sad face.
Lighted by the cold white of the moon, Daera’s sleepless purple eyes stare at the nothingness while she gulps and presses her dry lips. Her gaze is lost, thoughtful, tired, sad and in the water.
They joy of having won three houses to their side in the half of a day remains in her with honesty; she’d never forget Jacaerys’ hopeful eyes every time that a lord or lady said yes to them. However, great part of her knows that they shouldn’t be even doing this. They are taking the bother to go house by house, knocking their doors and pleading for their support. “Who are they?” “Who are we?”.
Daera thinks how she and her husband have been going around the realm, like fucking beggars, having to give things in exchange to convince the Houses to fight and advocate by their side. It is ridiculous, to say the least! It its demeaning and degrading to go as so…
As future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daera understand that exchanges, accords and betrothals are of great essence for the Iron Throne to keep good relations between the crown and its subjects. But we’re talking about war here, for the fuck’s sakes, not some feast or tourney, or wedding. Everyone should fight for the Blacks by law.
But no, here they are. They’ve licked Lady Jeyne Arryn’s cunt, given away Joffrey’s hand in marriage. The Houses are taking them as fools, it seems. And as the day goes by, Daera has been growing bitter and more bitter about it, not liking it one bit.
We are Targaryens.
The sound of a branch being stepped on brings the princess out of her thoughts. She blinks, still. Within seconds, two more branches crack, and then she detects the sound of footsteps in the mud.
After blinking again, Daera starts to slowly turn around. She turns her head with patience and a quiet expression, looking at what is behind her. And oh, gods be dammed, look at what we have here.
A group of five people has come out from the woods, arriving to the river with silent steps. There are three man and two women. They are all of small sizes; not dwarfs, but under the regular height of Westerosi people. They’re wearing clothes of colors similar to the swamp’s, fashion-less and ugly.
Perhaps that’s why they’re staring at her fancy expensive clothes and boots with lust.
Daera’s expression remains unfaced. She’s no longer sad, but calmed. She completely turns around, standing by the river’s shore, under the eyes of these ones.
-Good night-, she greeted with a polite tone.
-Good night-. One of the men greeted her, nodding towards her. We don’t know their names; we’ll call this one: Fuck.
-Beware, princess, there are many lion-lizards around these places-. Another of the men spoke, looking at her from feet to toe. He’ll be: Cunt.
Daera blinked and tilted her head lightly, instantly catching that they know she’s the princess. Great, no need to introduce herself then.
-Lion lizards?-. She gives them a confused smile, shaking her head.
-Dreadful beasts-. The third man raised his brows. This is: Dumb.
-Ah no, thankfully I haven’t seen none-. She kindly said-. But thanks for the warning-, her head tilts to a side whilst her hands meet on her belly.
Still, they keep getting closer, slowly but noticeable. Their steps are paused and marked, something she glanced at with tranquil eyes. Meanwhile, what they glance at is to the clothes and jewelry of the princess; her fine rings and leather dress must cost a fortune, not to speak about her white scalp.
Daera parted her lips when she sighed and scratched her forehead.
-Right…-, she mumbles with tiredness, nodding.
-Take off her clothes first, then do whatever you please-. One of the women spoke for the first time. How should be call her?
-She’s more worthy alive than dead, bitch-. Cunt spat to her. We’ll call her Bitch.
-Then don’t make her die, brute!-. The other woman spat back to him with an obvious tone, not even looking at him. This will be Dead.
Daera watches them all, person by person, looking at their steps and the manners of their hands. They’re armed, each of them with a rusty axe. She breathes in, looking at their faces again.
-Well, you’ve quickly made your intentions clear-. She sighed, making them to look at her with full amusement. A girl standing alone in a river, poor she thing-. Are crannogmen this direct then?-, Daera scrunches her nose, disappointed. Fuck and Dumb chuckled lowly, while Bitch twisted her lips with tediousness-. I like my men to entertain me-, she confessed whilst, under the enough darkness of the swamp, one of her hands so very slowly grabbed the handle of the dagger on her belt.
-I shall entertain you, princess-. Cunt growled with a smile. And it was here that he and Dead started to fastly walk towards her within a second, menacing. The others followed.
And within another second, Princess Daera got her dagger out of her belt, throwing it in the air. Its edge cut the wind sharply until it reached the middle of Dead’s eyes. The dagger crossed her skull and sliced her brains. The last thing she did was gasp, and then she fell hard on the floor, dead.
-Kalistrox, don’t come-. Daera whispered to the air, with a strand of white hair in the middle of her sight.
The other four cared naught about the fallen woman; they started running towards the princess. The closest was Cunt, who smiles while running.
Daera fastly leans to a side and scratches the river’s shore. Afterwards, she threw a handful of mud towards Cunt, who grunted when the heavy wet dirt ended up on his eyes and nose, making him to walk backwards.
-WHORE!-, a muted groan escaped his throat whilst he tried to wipe it all off his eyes.
-CUNT!-. Daera groaned as well, throwing more mud against Bitch and Dumb, but they dodged it and kept running to her with mad eyes. The princess laughs growly, unsheathing her sword.
-Don’t kill her!-. Bitch yelled with rage, and she ran slower when she saw the sword, getting a little scared. Fuck copied her.
Thus, Dumb kept running and became the closest to the princess, who took him off guard when making a savage expression with her face. The man, who cannot be older than twenty, furrowed his brows and, when he least expected, let out a loud and agonizing scream when a hand was cut from his body by her sword.
-AHHHH!!-, Dumb grabs his hand-less arm, looking at it with terror.
Daera laughs with great confidence, and that was her mistake, for the raged Dumb yelled with madness and grabbed her hair, pushing her with his remaining hand. The princess screamed, angry, and then she fell into the river’s deep shore, getting all wet by water and heavy mud. Her hand never left her sword’s handle.
-NO!-, Daera gasps in search of air, quickly sticking her head out the water.
Cunt had run to another part of the river as well, washing off the mud on his eyes while grunting with angriness. All the times that he found the strength to open his red and swollen eyes for a second, he glanced at the white-haired princess. He started to wash his face faster when seeing her falling into the river.
-GRAB HER HANDS, GRAB HER HANDS!-. Fuck yells quickly as he and Bitch ran to reach the princess.
-AHH!-. Remaining in the shore, Dumb breathes fastly while looking at his gone hand laying in the mud. He whines, staring at his bleeding wrist-. FUCKING BRING HER!-, he screamed to the river.
Daera breathed fastly, with her eyes blurry due to the water in them, but she saw something: those two small-sized beasts running towards her with more than evil intentions. She spat the water off her mouth, and took a deep breath.
Bitch runs faster when the princess’ head got dipped into the river from a moment to another. Fuck did so as well, yelling with rage when losing her out of sight.
-Fucking bitch! Where are you?!-. Bitch yells with alert, pushing all the water around her, wanting to hit the princess’ head by doing so, but she was far from her.
-Where are you?! WHORE!-. Fuck screams tauntly, licking his lips and smiling while from his mouth drops of saliva fall-. Fucking coward-, he mumbled with amusement.
-FIND HER!-, a scream was heard from Cunt, who’s walking to the shore near where they are. He pushed Dumb, who still cries for his hand.
Even though the screams continued, none was as loud as Fuck’s, who opened his mouth into a broken shriek when a sword suddenly cut his inner thighs and inner knees from a second to another, under the water.
-FU- FUUUCK! FUCK!!-. He yelled with extreme pain. Bitch quickly runs faster towards there, opening her eyes big when seeing the water turning red-. YOU- YOU…!-, he looks at the water around, harshly getting both his hands into it-. YOU FUCKING CUNT!-, he pulls something out.
Daera let out a pained screamed with her mouth open when Fuck suddenly pulled her out of the water, grabbing her by her hair. All her face and mane drips water while she roars with rage, looking at him, who roars back at her.
-BEAST!-, Fuck grabbed her hair into a fist, and his other hand slapped her strongly on one cheek.
-FUCK!!-, Daera roars. She holds her sword stronger, and head it right to his skull.
But Bitch appeared out of nowhere, arriving behind of her and taking both her hands prisoners into hers. Daera immediately screamed with rage, struggling against her grasp. Fuck grasped her legs the same way, trapping them, and that’s how the both of them began to carry her out the river.
-NO! NOOO! YOU WHORES, CUNTS, LET ME GO!-. The princess shrieks endlessly while dragged in the water-. YOU WEAK BEASTS, LET ME GO!-. Her yells never end.
-Bring her!-. Cunt waits for her in the shore with an ugly smile on his yellow teeth. Steps from him, Dumb is dizzy while looking at his bloody wrist.
-CUNTS!-, Daera grunts, not letting the river to take her sword away. She’s grabbing it tightly, while Bitch is incapable of taking it from her, for both her hands are busied in grasping hers to not let her go.
The princess was delivered to the shore, being harshly placed there. Within a second, Cunt grumbled and headed to her, going for the legs that Fuck fights against with a scrunched angry face.
While placing her in the ground, Bitch leaned forward in a way that made Daera’s eyes shine when she realized what she could do. Not losing time at all, the princess extended her neck up, opened her mouth, and then closed it along a wild roar. Daera bit the woman’s left breast, and squeezed it violently between her teeth.
Bitch let out a great scream, letting go her hands. Out of instinct she stepped away. At the same time, the princess wiggled her head ferociously from side to side; Bitch’s left nipple was torn from her breast by Daera’s harsh teeth, and then was spitted right into her face by the princess
The woman took six long steps back when she opened her mouth towards the sky to scream and cry with a pain none can even imagine. She grabs her bleeding teat, looking at it with extreme terror.
Oblivious to that, Fuck fights against the princess’s closed legs. She looks down there with rage, and opened her eyes big when seeing Cunt grabbing her knees with his big hands, and smiling up at her.
-No-, Daera’s voice trembles, and she realizes her hands are now free-. NO NO, STEP AWAY YOU CUNTS!-. She screams, about to slice them both in a half with her sword.
But a feet stepped on her armed hand, and a hand grabbed her other one. When she looks up, breathing fastly, she found Dumb’s handless wrist bleeding over her face. Daera immediately yells with pure rage, scrunching her nose and struggling even fiercer than before.
-Away!!-, Cunt pushed Fuck, taking his place in front of her. He squeezed her knees, and pulled them apart violently.
-FUCK!!!-, Daera struggled against him with rage, tears coming up to her eyes. Cunt grumbles when finding out the princess was wearing pants below.
-Queer bitch-, the man grunted, quickly pulling her dress’s skirt up, and beginning to break her pants with his bare hands.
Breathing fastly, Daera studies her surroundings within three second: Bitch whines for her lost nipple, rocking her breasts with agonizing pain. Cunt fights to take off her clothes, Fuck lines behind him with an excited evil smile, taking turn to rape her as well. Dumb steps on the hand she grabs her sword with, and grabs her other one while looking down at her. And, just a few steps from them, Dead lies dead with open eyes, with the dagger still on her forehead.
Daera blinks when feeling the drops of blood falling on her face from up. She looks up, and sees the Hand-less Dumb leaning towards her with a crazy smile while trapping her hands. Blinkless, he’s heading to kiss her lips.
And with these very lips of her, she spat harshly against his face from a second to another. The saliva that violently entered one of his eyes made Dumb to scream and to take a step away. He kept grabbing one of her hands, but: stopped stepping on the other.
Hissing, Daera dropped her sword, pulled the dagger out of Dead’s head, cut off Dumb’s remaining hand, and cut away the part of her dress Cunt was pulling away.
When the dress was cut and the pression of his pulling abruptly ended, Cunt gasped and staggered with no time to react. When her legs were free at last, the princess roared and kicked him with all of her strength and will.
Cunt fell right over Fuck, who yelled with pain when his bleeding thighs met the mud.
Daera heads the dagger to Dumb’s legs, and cut both his knees profoundly within a second, making a perfect line. The Handless man screamed agonizing-like, falling on his knees when being servant of the pain.
Before his knees ended right on her eyes, princess Daera fastly makes herself to a side, rolling in the mud. While doing so, she grabbed back her sword, never letting it go again. Dumb sobs with rage, going for her.
With a smooth rolling, Daera stood up from the mud within seconds and, as soon as she did so, she clashed her sword against Bitch, not even letting her to take a last breath. Bitch gasped before being sliced in a literal half by the princess’ sword. Her upper body fell hard on the ground, whilst her legs kept standing for a few more second.
After cutting Bitch in a half, Daera made a perfect circle on her feet and with her sword. Smoothly turning around, she slashed Dumb’s belly. Her angry expression faded away as soon as he died, when all of his bowels fell from his open abdomen. A stinking shit fell with them too; the princess stepped on it, and then cleaned her boots with Dumb’s face.
With dagger and sword now at hand, The Rogue Princess bloody face turns to look at the remaining two. The two that were planning to rape her.
Her breathing blows white strands of her disheveled hair. Blinkless and mouth-parted, she starts walking towards them, licking the blood on her lips.
When Cunt fell over him, Fuck couldn’t walk again. Pressed by the other man’s heaviness, he fell right on a big stone that crashed so hard against his lower back that it appears to have disconnected it from his legs, which are still cut and bleeding while he now drags himself away as quick as possible. Fuck whines and grunts as his elbows are the only thing helping him to move in the mud.
Meanwhile, Cunt is- well, he is running to her.
Daera turns around; her back collapses with his chest. He grunts and, before he could do anything with his rusty axe, the princess surprised him with a stab on his ribs. He gasps, opening his eyes big. Blinking two times while looking at the woods, Daera stabbed him two more times, in different places.
-Fucking…!-, airless, he gasped.
Letting out a sour chuckle, Daera suddenly starts to walk backwards with fastness. Cunt looks around with terror; the loss of blood tricked him bad, and he imagined the trees laughing and pointing at him whilst the princess pushes him with her own little body.
From a moment to another, Cunt felt he flew, and he did. For a second. He fell harshly on the river’s shore, dyeing the water with red. What’s weirdest is that the princess allowed herself to fall with him, only to then rise on her knees and stare down at him with hell-like eyes and evil twisted lips.
She grips her dagger tightly, closing her fist on it.
-I’m a Targaryen-, her honeyed though growly voice spoke while her hand slipped down his pants.
Her dagger swayed in the air, and then cut off Cunt’s hard erection. When his member was sliced off his body, the bleeding man screamed with pure pain, never taking his eyes off her. He saw her painted all in red, grabbing his bland chopped cock with a rogue glim on her eyes, and smiling to him within a blink.
-I’ll be taken as no fool-. The princess mumbled with rage, starting to fill his mouth of the mud around, filling even her own nails with it.
Cunt coughs violently as his throat and mouth gets clogged by dirt and water with no end. His eyes tears while he yells as louds as he can, desperately searching for air. Daera grunts, grabbing his head with a hand.
-Stay fucking quiet!!-, she grunted, dipping his face into the river.
Cunt struggles and kicks with despair, airless, swallowing both mud and water endlessly, nearly starting to cry blood. Whilst he grunts and tussle, the princess turns around her head. She sees the other one, Fuck, still crawling away. He’s already far, but she sees him. She hears him crying with horror, crawling away like a coward from his sliced thieves friends.
Daera presses her lips, pulling Cunt’s face out of the water. And before he could give his last breath for himself, the princess drew her dagger on his throat, and cut it with a clean move.
Cunt’s mouth dripped vomit, blood, mud and water. His eyes went blank, and his face dipped again in the water when the princess stood up and walked away from him, leaving his unliving body behind.
When Fuck hears steps near him, he turns around his head. Now, when he saw The Rogue Princess approaching to him with armed hands and raged mad eyes, he cried for his mother, and started to crawl and drag himself faster than ever, to no purpose.
Fuck tried to stood up while breathing fastly. Her knees trembled, but he was able to stand weakly. But before he could even think of running, a boo kicked his lower back violently and made him to fall back in the mud. He yelled loudly, with pain and terror. He turns around his head, finding the ugliest and most disturbing image of his life.
The white-haired brown-skinned princess, slouched to look directly at him, is bathed in blood and mud. Her chin, lashes and nose are dripping a red liquid that does not belong to her. Her teeth are stained on red too, as well as her jewelry and her chopped wrinkled dress. What disturbed him the most: the madness and pleasure that shines on the purple of her eyes.
The Rogue Princess grabbed his hair and pulled his head up with harshness. He gasps with pain, scrunching his lips while crying, feeling her breathing approaching to his neck.
-You’ll live a little longer-, Daera whispered with a growing smile.
Fuck screamed with terror, quickly silenced when the princess violently placed Cunt’s bleeding bollocks on his mouth and made him to chew on them.
■ ■ ■
Aemond and Vhagar’s flight was…a silent one. The breeze and the dragon’s breathing are one. Her wings flap quietly, her body soars calmly. The Queen of All Dragons, by all means, goes with tranquility, not worried by anything, neither ashamed of any doings.
On the other hand, the prince that rides on her back is not sharing her feelings at all. Vhagar might be serene, but Prince Aemond is a nervous wreck.
Lucerys has been slain.
Aemond’s only eye is blinkless. His gloved hands are held to his saddle with tension; his palms are sweating below the black leather.
He did it.
His hair is humid, priorly wet by the rain at Storm’s End. His lips are dry and constantly shaking.
He has killed him.
His heart has been beating with endless fastness for hours and hours. His teeth taste like iron; his tongue like blood.
He killed Luke.
Vhagar growls lowly when she sees the shores of King’s Landing already appearing in front of them. In trance, Aemond looks up from his saddle, staring front. When he saw the Red Keep from the distance, his heart stopped beating and his throat got afflicted within a second.
The prince breathes fastly, pressing his lips with anxiety. His dragon keeps flapping her wings, knowing she were to land in the beach nearest to the castle, where she always nests. But the closer they got to the heart of the capital; the more nervous Prince Aemond grew.
He knows his landing means one thing: his family will ask him how things went. He, then, shall tell them that: he won Lord Borros and House Baratheon to their side, he wooed Ellyn Baratheon, and made her his betrothed. And that he lost control of Vhagar, and got Lucerys killed.
Shamefully, he does not have the gut to tell them, at least not now.
The One-Eyed Prince parted his trembled lips and, within a second, he pushed his saddle down. Vhagar shook her neck; she immediately obeyed, and started to descend quickly, straying from the path towards King’s Landing.
Vhagar landed right in a high hill belonging to The Kingswood. It is night, and late, so no one is around nor near them. The green dragon lifted ton of dirt when she landed, when her wings flapped near the ground. She looked up to the white moon, with her small eyes.
As soon as she landed, Aemond breathed with unquietness while he started to fastly come down from saddle, quickly getting off his dragon’s back. He gets endless chills whilst climbing down the ropes; his altered eye stared at her belly only for a second.
Aemond’s feet landed harshly on the ground when he jumped away from Vhagar. He breathes in and out, in and out, fastly and anxiously. He feels his legs trembling, and his heart about to stop beating. Is this how it feels to die? Is his body preparing him for a feeling even worst than this?
“Gods. Gods. Gods”
The prince walks with shaky legs, looking all around at the trees with his eye filled of despair. His parted mouth breathes heavily, the same as how his chest feels. He doesn’t feel his arms, which are hanging to the sides of his body.
-Fuck-, he whimpered with a string of voice.
“Help me. Help me. Oh, please may the Gods help me”
Aemond couldn’t hold himself for much longer. He fell right on his knees, making them to clash against the dirt on the ground. The prince shrieks while he looks around, looking for some light. He hasn’t one thought on his mind and, at the very same time, a thousand of them.
He’s in shock; that it is. The shock on him is so big that he’s thinking that by calling the gods for help he’ll get out of this. Well, he won’t. He’s fucked, he’s condemned. And he knows it. He knows what this means, Aemond is no fool.
He knows this will bring war. What he does not know yet: he has brought the doom of his family as well.
The prince breathes in, shaky, slowly turning his head, looking over his shoulder. He stares at Vhagar, who looked back at him with tranquility and blinkless eyes. Kneeled, the one-eyed huffs a dry laugh.
-What have you done?-, he whispered. His eye stared to her belly, and he shivered when thinking that Luke and his dragon are both literally in there, dead and butchered-. Oh- oh Vhagar, what have you done?!-. His voice shook with disbelief, looking at her.
Vhagar does nothing but to growl lowly and calmly, looking back at him with no shame nor pity. Queen Visenya’s ancient fierceness shined on her former dragon’s eyes. Oh, if dragons could talk.
“I did what I wanted to”, Vhagar would say, “What you also wanted me to do”. She knows her rider is just blinded by fear, or whatever, right now, but the truth is that: her desires were the same as his when they were in the skies. “Are you a coward now?”.
“Imma kinslayer”, Prince Aemond told to himself while looking at Vhagar’s huge tum. Is that what he’s supposed to say to his family? Or is he to confess that he lost control of his own dragon, like an idiot? What is he to do? What- what is to happen now?
Aemond breathes fastly, heavily overwhelmed by the whole situation; he is not having one clear thought at the moment. He feels like a child again. He’s just scared, and he wants to cry.
The One-Eyed Prince turned his head again and, from this high hill, he stared at The Red Keep. His chest comes up and down whilst his only eye, teary, looks at there with not one blink in the middle. Tired and wary, he starts to close his lips. His family is in that castle.
Hours, the prince thinks. Is just a matter of hours for the Black to know about Luke’s death, about what Aemond has done, if they don’t know it already. Then, war will come.
“War. War. War”
It is imminent. It's inevitable now. There is no turning back, and now the war is getting closer. It's almost at the door of his house.
And, when thinking of this, prince Aemond twisted his lips with determination, ceasing their trembling. He growled as he stood up from the floor, and ran towards Vhagar with stiff feet and legs.
He is scared, yes, but he can't afford to stay here, worrying and crying, cursing his dragon's actions. His dear dragon. No. He will act, he has to. And he has to do it now.
-SOVES, VHAGAR!-. With a loud growl, Aemond commanded his dragon to fly, pulling her ropes tightly when he took seat on his saddle.
Quick to answer, Vhagar growled as well, and took off from The Kingswood with a big flap from her wings. They rose in the skies again, flying faster than before. Aemond breathes fastly, clenching his teeth and jaw.
Tears come up to his eyes and then they run down his cheeks, one after another and another after one. Fright and shock have been keeping his thoughts at a limit. He doesn't want to think too far into the future; He couldn't stand it.
So…
He forces himself to live in the moment, to go to protect his family.
He forces himself to not think of Daera and the hate he’ll won from her.
He forces himself to think that he’s still on time, that they can prepare for whatever that may come.
Aemond forces himself to pretend that he doesn't feel a pair of raged eyes on his neck at all times, crossing the entirety of the Blackwater Rush.
■ ■ ■
Daemon stands over an open window. A red gaze of his crosses the whole sea; there is rage on his purple eyes, immense. His chest comes up and down with a slow infuriated breathing. His fists are tight to the sides of his body, he has tears on his demonic eyes.
More than one cry is taking over the room he’s in.
Viserys and Aegon are crying on their cradles; their faces are red and their throats are shrieking, constantly babbling, in the need of tending and kisses. They’re so uncomfortable and unquiet; there’s a reason for that.
Their mother, Rhaenyra, is crying louder than them. Her palms are flat open in a wall. Her head shakes from one side to another whilst her mouth whines endlessly and her closed eyes tear up with no stop. The Queen cries with the worst pain of her life; her chest feels empty.
In Dragonstone, the sky is still dark, but it is almost dawn, so a new day has arrived. All that can be heard around the castle is the crying coming from Queen Rhaenyra’s chambers, from her very self. Every lord, servant and knight either shivers or looks down every time a scream makes echo through the walls.
A dark cloud has been casted on Dragonstone, when news of Prince Lucerys’ death reached his parents’ ears.
-Luke!-, a broken sob comes out from Rhaenyra’s mouth. She cries brokenly, curving her brows and lifting her face towards the ceiling, looking at it with swollen eyes and a trembling open mouth-. Why?-, she whispers sorrowful. To only imagine it, her boy- her son…killed with no mercy-. FU- UCK!-, she cried with a torn heart, screaming loudly.
Master Gerardys had to quickly fetch something to make Prince Joffrey to fall asleep, for the boy became mad when he heard that his brother, Luke, had been murdered by their own uncle, the prince Aemond.
Joff cried less than his mother, but that was only because he busied himself with trying to escape the guards’ arms when wanting to take Tyraxes and fly himself to avenge his brother. With a mouth resembling his step-father and older sister’s, Joff swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Prince Aemond and even Lord Borros. Only the intervention of Ser Erryk kept the boy from mounting his dragon at once.
It was the same with his sister, the princess Rhaena.
-My baby…-, Rhaenyra sobs with a shaky voice, afflicting her throat.
In The Chamber of the Painted Table, when the news was announced, Rhaena fell from a chair to her knees, screaming, crying and whining so loudly that it waked the whole island entirely. Some even searched for some wound, cut or tumor in her, to see if it was that she was burning from within.
Rhaena screamed with so much pain, and squeezed her own chest with so much sorrow, feeling her heart being plucked away from it with no mercy, just as Luke’s probably was too. She cried the name of her brother, her betrothed, four times. After the fourth cry, her father ordered Maester Gerardys to sedate her too, and so he did.
Prince Daemon looks outside with lips trembling of rage, and eyes flickering of grief. His nose is sweating endlessly, and his mouth is dry. Every second he thinks of different moments of Lucerys. Training on the beach, laughing with his siblings, asking him to help with his saddle. Every second he thinks of different ways of murdering Aemond. Tie him barefoot on stones in fire, slicing off his cock and making him to eat it as his last meal, watch him burn.
Queen Rhaenyra squeezes her belly with one hand whilst the other remains flat on a wall; is the only thing keeping her steady while she cries her soul out. Her feelings are indescribable; no mother should go through this. With the blur of her tears, she can only see him. As a babe, as a child, as a young man. He has been taken away from her…he’ll never be grown up. Her boy. Her sweet boy.
You may be wondering where does Princess Baela stand, in all this. Well then, if you must.
The princess left the Chamber of the Painted Table with swift steps, airless. She reached her dorms, staggering, where she was free to yell as much as she wanted. She fell flat on her bed and cried until ending voiceless and with a sore throat.
She didn’t believe it.
Caraxes, Syrax and Moondancer’s shrieks were constantly heard very near the castle, startling the servants many times. They’re furious too.
Baela cried, but not for long, for now she finds herself walking with firmness and quickness through the castle’s hallways. There are dry tears on her swollen purple eyes, tears that she slapped away from her with angry growls. She is in denial, and scolded herself for her crying.
Soon, the princess arrived to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s chambers. She opened the doors within a push, walking into it with rage and despair. Before the harsh sound of the doors, Daemon looked over his tense shoulder and Rhaenyra lifted up her red face. Viserys and Aegon went silent.
They find Baela with a lifted chin and shoulders.
-Baela…-, Rhaenyra sobbed her name with weakness, looking at her from feet to toe. She looked at her, and her lips trembled when seeing her step-mother’s red sorrowful face.
-I come not to mourn-. The princess spoke harshly, shaking her head. Daemon starts to turn around fully, staring at her with wide red eyes of attention-. My brother is not dead-. She declared with a stiff lip, serious.
Rhaenyra sighed shakily, staring at her with curious eyes of sadness, and tilting her head to a side while heading both her hands to her flat belly. Daemon, blinkless, listens to his daughter too.
-This is not Luke’s end!-. Baela’s loud voice trembled when saying his name. Nyra’s lips shook too, though her head began to nod, slowly-. Not in the hands of a deranged wretch-, she mumbled with decision, shaking her head-. Let us look for him-. She decided.
-Look for him?-, Daemon fastly repeated with his sharp loud voice.
-Look for him!-. His middle daughter nodded with the same sharpness. Hopeful, Rhaenyra caresses her belly, and begins to nod with tiredness.
-Baela…-, his father mumbled, almost ashamed. He fears their hope, for it can only bring more pain to them-. They said th-
-Then you have been misled!-. She quickly cut his words, yelling with firmness. Daemon closes his lips, serious. He hums lowly, looking at the both of them with thoughtful sour eyes.
-Yes…-, a weak whisper came out from Rhaenyra’s lips. Her husband looked at her, and his gaze automatically became softer. She breathes in with deepness. Pain and decision on her eyes-. Yes-. She spoke firmer than before, letting go her belly.
-We’ll find him-. Baela approached to her with decision, holding one of her hands. Rhaenyra sobs and looks at her with curved brows, nodding with the same conviction.
-We’ll leave at dawn-. Queen Rhaenyra declared.
The three share a look between them, decided, but none of the two women dared to ponder the question “What if we don’t?”.
Nevertheless, prince Daemon stood tall, and walked towards them with slow harsh steps, staring at the both of them. Baela gulped, holding Rhaenyra’s hand tighter.
-Whatever the come out, the Greens’ bloodline will end on our dragons’ bellies, their heads on our shelfs…-. He speaks with poison and sourness. His wife’s lips tremble, whilst his daughter nodded, bitter as him-. We will breathe fire, and drink blood-. The prince madly declared.
He approaches to the both of them, with his irritated eyes shining with blood and vengeance thirst. He narrows his eyes.
-Gaomagon ao emagon zire isse ao?-. The Rogue Prince asked, filled of wrath.
[Do you have it in you?]
■ ■ ■
Back to The Neck, Vermax landed on firm ground, growling lowly. His rider, the prince Jacaerys, landed him near where they were camping before, as he calculated before coming down.
Coming off from his saddle, the prince sighs tiredly, patting his dragon’s back.
-I am sorry, Vermax-. He whispered with shame and pity, caressing him. Vermax growled with tediousness, closing his eyes and shaking his neck.
Sadly, there are no sheep nor mutton or cows in swamps, so the search for dinner for the dragons was a total fiasco. Vermax hungers, and it seems that he’ll have to wait until arriving to Winterfell and see what can be offered to him.
Jacaerys sighed heavily, petting him. As he saw, Kalistrox is still in the skies with Daera. They did not exchange words or glances as they flew, as each one was focused on their dragon's supper.
-Alright-. The prince sighs, starting to walk with full calmness. His dragon, purring, follows him slowly-. I know you’re tired but at least help me to…-, as he goes walking and looking front, Jace starts to furrow his brows, cutting his own words-…lit back the fire?-. He mumbles.
He was planning to lit a new fire. But as he approached to where they were before, he realized the fire was still lit, just as he left it. Jace tilts his head to a side with confusion, keeping approaching, and wondering if he was wrong.
When being closer, and seeing their furs and bedsheets, he knew he hasn’t wrong. This is their fire, which confused him, for Daera told him she’d stay to turning it off, and the she’d go up with Kalistrox. Now she’s up there with Kalistrox, he thinks, but the fire is still here.
As Jacaerys approaches to the camp, he noticed a piece of luggage that wasn’t there before, big and lumpy, too big to seem like one of theirs. The prince approaches with slow steps and curious eyes, staring at the luggage as he walks by it.
Jacaerys takes three more steps, looking at it with confusion and mistrust. Only seconds then is that he got to look at it from the front.
And right at that moment, the “luggage” came to life. Vermax squealed whilst Jacaerys gasped when they realized it was a man with his hands and feet tied that struggled against the ropes with despair and fear.
-Ah!-, Jace steps back with quickness; he’s shocked and scared, with his eyes wide open. He breathes fast, seeing all the blood that man is covered with. The man’s screams and pleadings of help are muted by some bloody hairy bollocks on his wide mouth.
The man, Fuck, cries and struggles with terror, moving like a worm in dirt. The prince Jacaerys breathes very fastly, as confused as grossed out, looking at him with wide eyes. Steps are heard near them. Fuck tried to yell loudly to the boy, kicking his feet and looking like he was…trying to warn him about something? …Someone.
-Nyke emagōn pōja havor [I found their supper]-. A taunt mumbling voice spoke behind him.
Jace turns around with frighted eyes. He afflicted his throat strongly, for his eyes automatically traveled to the ground, and in there he found more “pieces of luggage”. More bodies. But these are not alive, as the other one. They’re butchered people, long gone.
Dumb. A man with no hands, bleeding his wrist out; his belly all open, hence his organs on the floor, and his face stained by shit. Dead. A woman with a hole in the middle of her eyes, which are open. Cunt. A man that has no upper body, for neither his torso, arms chest or head are to be found; in the middle of his legs there’s no cock. Bitch. And another woman, literally sliced in two. Her legs are chopped like fresh ham, whilst her upper body lacks a nipple in one of her breasts; instead, is between her lips, soaked in blood.
Jacaerys breathes slowly and deeply, with eyes of fright and marvel, not believing his sight. Feeling his heart beating crazily, his brown orbs slowly began to look up, following a tread of blood from the cock-less body.
Soon, he comes to the sight of his wife standing over a rock. Her hand is holding another, that belongs to the upper-body to the cockless man. His throat is sliced, and his face stained with vomit, blood and mud; his eyes closed, his hand hold to hers.
Daera is bathed in red dirty blood, her pants and dress are torn, and her hair disheveled and wild. Her hands are bloody, so are her arms, so is her neck, her mouth, her teeth, her cheeks, forehead and her pupils. Little of that river of blood is hers.
There is a terrifying calm in her eyes, which are staring at him endlessly. Slightly swinging the corpse whom she holds hands with, Daera looks at Jace amidst all the blood that paints her eyes. Blinkless, she's breathing slowly.
Mouth-open, Jacaerys’ chest comes up and down. Mesmerized and terrified, he looks at his wife from down, not even smelling the blood, neither hearing the man’s pleadings and struggles. The prince merely blinks, shocked by the sight in front of him, the sight of her.
Unfazed by her blood-dripping face, The Rogue Princess looks back at him with easiness; a glim of taunt in her eyes. She sniffed her nose.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡
■ ■ ■
《 The Fight Above Shipbreaker Bay 》
. . .
-This is no conversation, Daera! These are accusations, insults, profanity!-. Aemond said loudly, hearing the dragons growl lowly, which he ignored-. “Injustice, disrespect, rawness” you say! You speak of those words as if they had not been tormenting me since the day I began to breath!-, he screamed furious and painfully.
She blinked openly, showing how confused she was, at which he dryly scoffed to.
-That is the problems with you blacks. You do not listen, you do not reach for information, you do not understand, you take everything for granted!-, his eyebrows curved angrily as he shouted-. You blame me of stealing with no consequences, but I am the one half-blinded after I made something for my sake-, he sourly murmurs, almost trembling, looking at her right in the eye-. And nobody moved a finger but my mother, nobody but her saw the injustice committed towards me-. Aemond gulped harshly-. You, questionless, did not…-, he whispered.
. . .
-You and your sisters fought me to defend your mother’s memory, to defend her on her very funeral’s day. I can grow to understand that-. The prince nods several times, caressing her fingers. She looked at him, seeing the sourness on his eye-. But Jace and Luke, everything they did, even that fucking night…they did it because they thought I did not deserve it-, he slowly whispered, resting his forehead on hers.
. . .
Luke raised from the sand from an instant to another, letting a wild scream out, and dragging the dagger all over his uncle’s face.
The scream Aemond let out at that moment made all the others to scream too, seeing how a river of blood rose in the air and he fell on the floor like a corpse, holding a side of his face in the middle of loud grunts and a fast breathing.
Aemond cried in disbelief, feeling the worst pain of his life, feeling how the sea turned into the blood that ran through his fingers with no stop.
. . .
-I have no word in what I am! I!-. Aemond points himself with desperation, shaking on his place-. They talk, and talk and talk about what I am! But is due to what HE made me be!-, he shouts brokenly, hitting his own chest.
-Who?!-, Daera furrows her brows, not giving herself time to think.
-LUKE!-. The One-Eyed Prince named him with poison in his mouth and hate in his saliva, and when she heard him, Daera afflicted her throat and closed her mouth, tensing instantly-. He is the reason why everyone talks about me! Will you deny it?!-, he accuses, tilting his head strongly.
-Will you really blame him for all of those wretched who don’t know to mind their own business?!-, Daera snorts opening her arms at the sides of her body, looking angry at him.
-Well who do you think made me a wretched in the first place?!-. Aemond shouts with a fake smile, approaching to her again and letting her see his pained eye being lighted by the near bonfire. Daera gulps, looking up at him-. Why do you think is so funny for them to mock me?! A Targaryen prince, yes! But a maimed one! Who maimed me?!-, he asks fiercely, knowing the answer so well-. Or are you blind too, as well as everyone else, hmm?-, he accuses, feeling his heart ache.
. . .
Daera and Aemond stopped walking in the very gates when seeing them staring at them in that way. Their faces said it all. Luke has talked. He told them all.
The princess shook her head, opening her lips and letting out a lot of air, bemused, not believing this was happening. The one-eyed gulped so sourly, nailing his only eye in Lucerys, and staring at him with a touchable hate and resentment, wrinkling his lips harshly.
. . .
Daera’s hands reached his, and he cried holding them tight and nearing them to his face, lying his forehead on them while crying and sobbing endlessly, not wanting to never let them go. To never let her go.
-Daera?-. A shy voice called her from behind, far, so low. And that was Luke.
He was in the door of Viserys’ chambers, with Jace by his side, both of them staring at her with worriness.
Daera did not listen, and kept staring to the sun, crying silently. But when he heard that voice, when he heard him talking, when he heard them breathing…
Aemond suddenly stopped sobbing, lifting his head and tensing his shoulders up, inhaling deeply, feeling that it was poison what he breathed. From behind, Jace and Luke saw him fixing his posture, in such a macabre way, like he turned into a different person right at the moment they spoke. He became a monster, and they saw it starting to turn around.
The Bastard Brothers. The ones to completely blame. Again. Time after time, screwing his life. They gave him a pig. They mocked him. Lucerys stole his eye. Lucerys told everyone. Jacaerys claimed his love as his. Jacaerys stole his wife. They have ruined the only thing that makes him to truly feel alive.
The One-Eyed Prince turned around, hurriless, making them to slowly see his face. His red face, wrinkled with pain and dolor, soaked with tears and poison, painted by injustice and abusiveness. All, caused by them.
Aemond stared at them with thirst of vengeance, his superior lip trembling, and a hate on his only eye that would never go away as long as he was staring at them.
Luke shivered whole, taking a step back with fear, while Jace opened his mouth with real perturbation, not having ever seen an uglier expression never before.
. . .
-AND HERE WE GO, defending them again!-. Aemond laughs with no fun.
-“Strong boys”?! Are you fucking shitting me, Aemond?!-. Daera moves her head from side to side, bemused-. Do you know what my father would have done to you?!-, she asks, scared and angry.
-Daera- FUCK!-, the prince yells, raged, feeling his whole body trembling. The fury caused by hearing Daera defending the brats I sone that is beyond compare-. That is the problem, that something happens to the ones that say the bloody truth!-. Aemond roars, filled of despair-. The have you…as their fucking marionette, defending the indefensible-. He taunts with poison.
-Shut the fuck up, Aemond-. She warns, raising her brows. His blood only boils hotter.
-No but they deserve so much more than what I said…Those fucking whore’s bastards-. Aemond spits his words, narrowing his eye, and making his wife to shiver strongly-. I…-, he shakes his head-…I want to set them on fire-. He whispered.
-Aemond-. She gags, breathless-. Take that back-, the princess mumbles, not blinking once, feeling her heart stopping before the nightmare that flashes in front of her eyes.
He, though, dreams with that nightmare to be true.
-I want to crush Jace’s skull, with Ser Criston’s morningstar-. Aemond whispers, filled with poison, looking at her. Daera gasps, curving her brows, horrified-. I want to collect everything they owe me-. The prince assures.
-I DARE YOU!-, she shakes with rage and fear, lifting up her brows. She them, wondered herself why she is feeling that much fear. Does she…believe him capable?
-I want to take an eye out of Luke’s face-. Aemond goes whispering, singing, almost smiling to himself while his wife gasps stopless, choking with her own saliva.
-If you put a hand in him…!-, she cries, covering her mouth while the tears pass it.
-Every time I see him, Daera, I just wished I was maiming him until blindness, to leave him so emaciated that not even a sapphire would fit there…-. This was his calmest tone of the night, yet so bone-chilling, and gross.
-WHO ARE YOU?!-. The princess screamed, attacking him with his own raving question. That made Aemond’s tears to fall faster, and his gaze to fill with surprise-. You- YOU LIVE FOR VENGEANCE! Son of a bitch, YOU LIVE WITH HATE!-, she accuses, hurted.
. . .
Then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.
■ ■ ■
A thunder strikes loudly right in Luke’s ears. He flinched with a little gasp. Though that was not at all the first thunder he heard since he departed Dragonstone, he still pressed his lips with unquietness, looking around.
And after a second thunder, the grey clouds around him started to get thinner. Just seconds later, his blue eyes found the view of a great edification made in the very shore of the sea, tall, grotesque and round. Storm’s End, at its finest, with a great deal of thunder drumming around it.
Lucerys holds his saddle’s handles tighter, feeling a turbulence on Arrax as they started to descend towards mainland. The prince gulps and feels his mouth dry, forever looking at the castle that he’s arriving to, one that is not expecting for him.
Our brown-haired princeling flew for too many hours already. This is a great flight he has made, for is very much longer than the “longest” flight he had made before this, which was from Dragonstone to King’s Landing. Now that is nothing compared against this. His hands are tumid, and his cheeks are freezing. What he’d give to have a bonfire right now.
Even though his flight was long, his feelings never changed. The boy is uneasy, nervous and anxious. He has never treated with a lord nor personally nor privately. His mother swore to him for this errand to be easy, but he still doesn’t know what to expect from it. These airs…he doesn’t like them.
He flew around the castle, arriving by its left side. Soon, he and his dragon reached the castle’s patio, where there were six guards on the gates, standing firmly. Arrax landed with swiftness, growling, and relieved that he has brought his rider to safety after such a savage flight.
Lucerys’ mother also promised a very warm welcome, but…when his dragon landed, those six knights barely blinked, as if they were used to see such a beast every day. Luke couldn’t help but to feel a little out of place, and ashamed. However, hearing Daemon’s voice on his head, he said to himself that he was not here to be praised nor clapped at.
Lightning was flashing from the east and a heavy wing blowing on Lucerys as he leapt off his dragon, his mother’s message clutched in his hand. He jumped off his saddle, landing on the ground with a firm posture. He wears the red cape Daera once gifted him, from one of her trips to the capital, and black gloves that were also gifted by her. The cape flies in the wind, whilst the gloves protect his hand from it.
As he started to walk, the prince sweetly caressed his dragon’s neck, silently farewelling him. The guards see that child approaching to them with nerves that he thought he was hiding well.
Guardsmen walking the battlements of the castle’s mighty curtain walls clutched their spears in sudden terror when a roar shook the very foundations of Durran’s Defiance. Prince Lucerys gasped, opened his eyes big and quickly turned around when hearing it too. Even Arrax quailed before that sound.
Luke felt his knees failing him for a second as he looked up at The Queen of All Dragons rising her head behind the castle’s walls. She growled, mouth-opened, and shook her long neck, making her roar to echo in all Storm’s End. The boy breathes shakily, in shock for some seconds.
He knows what Vhagar’s presence means. Aemond is here. Luke’s first intuition was to run. Oh gods, didn’t he want to run, to climb back on his dragon and quickly fly away back to Dragonstone. But he quickly demolished his own desire. And what would he tell, when returning home? That he saw Vhagar and got scared? That he decided to better return when “is safer”? Heavens. As if he needs more babying from Rhaenyra and Daera.
No. He will stay. And he will do as he was told to.
After gulping, Luke looks away and keeps approaching to the knights. They look at the boy, finding blue eyes and red cheeks. Nervous lips but brave eyes.
-I am prince Lucerys Velaryon!-. He announced himself, looking at the six of them-. I bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen!-. Lucerys told them with firmness.
Out of the six, two nodded and turned around at the same time, starting to march towards the gates of the castle. Doubtlessly, the prince followed them, not before glancing again to the green old dragon, who growled lowly from her place.
■ ■ ■
Prince Aemond has chosen a wife.
He shall marry Ellyn Baratheon, fourth and younger daughter of Lord Borros Baratheon and Lady Elenda Caron. Of twenty-and-one, she’s a fine lass of brown hair and blue eyes, as every Baratheon ever is. She’s boring, gossipy and fearful.
During today’s breakfast that was hold on the prince’s honor, he got to meet all four daughters of Lord Borros. Prince Aemond took no liking in any of them.
Cassandra, the eldest, was stubborn and disinterested. When left alone with the prince, she clarified she wanted to be no wife of no one. She declined any proposal before they could even talk. Aemond thanked the gesture, and didn’t cross any more word with her.
Maris. The second daughter. A pain in the ass. She had always wanted to marry into royalty, which was why she was trying so hard to impress the prince upon she being the perfect choice. She danced a piece in front of him and showed off her embroidery skills. The one-eyed yawned discreetly behind his sleeve, which brough her face to fire. They never talked again.
Floris. Well, she began their conversation by immediately asking him if his brother has ever considered to take a second wife, as his forebear did. Aemond quickly ended that conversation, irritated.
And…Ellyn. Boring, gossipy and fearful, as we said before. Nevertheless, the most tolerable among her sisters. But- oh but c’mon, this was no life-changing choice for Aemond. There’s no deep feeling or gut behind his choice. He wasn’t looking for a perfect wife. He wasn’t even looking for a one! Because he already has one…and she’s already perfect, the gods bless her soul.
The subject Ellyn speaks about the most is about children; she can’t wait to have kids of her own. Recently having lost a child himself, prince Aemond found comfort when imagining Daera with a bulged belly, caressing it while smiling to him. That image, as we know, is purely fictional, so then it brought him pain.
However, he picked Ellyn, because one of the four it had to be. He highly respects women, as we know. Criston taught him since he was little. But gods, weren’t these girls annoying? When it was announced who the prince had picked, Maris turned green of jealous, resenting the one-eyed. Ellyn cheered, but always trying to avoid to look at his patch. She has barely looked to his face.
Now, with lunch still to be served, they are reunited in the Round Hall of Storm’s End. Among the people here, we can mention prince Aemond, Lord Borros, his four daughters, septon, and maester, and twoscore knights, guards and servants. Also, among those who witness the meeting was Ser Bryon Swann, second son of Lord Stonehelm in the Dornish Marches, and a northern man called Golen Glover, who would have his own small part to play later between us. Soon enough, this latter one would have left in the middle of the reunion, for it was time for him to, as a task of his had already been done. The lord dispatched him with gladness.
Past morning hours, they’re all in the hall whilst haggling over dates and dowries for the upcoming wedding between the Targaryen prince and the Baratheon Lady. Aemond is in the hall’s left, dressed in black as always, with his hands crossed behind his back. Ellyn is right by his side, always silent and with a bored expression on her face.
While the preparations are discussed by the others, on one moment prince Aemond blinked, and lost his eye on the floor, thinking of something. He recalls -for perhaps the tenth time in the day- that today is the twins’ nameday. Shouldn’t he be here for the sake of his family, he’d be with Jaehaera and Jaehaerys doubtlessly. They’d be together, laughing and celebrating, with Helaena and with…and with Daera, the children’s loving aunt.
Everything going on is interrupted when a lonely guard arrives running to the hall, a little agitated. Everyone immediately looked at him. Aemond stared up at the man, serious and confused.
-My Lord-, the knight quickly greets Lord Borros who, from his seat, scowled at him with curiosity-. A dragon has landed on the castle yard-. He informed.
Aemond’s eye opened widely and slowly, looking at the knight with coldness. His heart instantly stopped, immediately knowing it was not a dragon from his family.
-Who is it?-, Lord Borros asks with annoyance, not pleased that the talk about his daughter’s betrothal had been interrupted.
-I could not say, my lord, but the rider is being escorted here as we speak-. The guard quickly answered. After licking his lips, Borros grunted and dispatched with a hand movement.
Aemond blinks slowly, looking at the floor. Lord Borros turned his head to look at him with wide eyes of interest.
-Is any familiar of yours joining us this noon?-. He questions with his hoarse yet loud voice.
The prince, as silent as a snake, slowly turns around on his feet, showing his back to everyone else and hiding his face when looking down. He blinks harshly, feeling a great nerve when thinking that this might be Daera. Oh fucking hells, it is Daera. She’s her family’s eldest, of course they’d sent her here. They are to meet then. Now, here! While they discuss his future marriage.
“Are the gods laughing at my from the heavens? Wouldn’t be their first time doing so”. Aemond gulps strongly, with a weight on his heart while thinking of his wife. The last time he saw her…he made her to drink a Moon Tea, and threatened her siblings’ lives with obscure desires.
-That he is a relative of mine, do not doubt it-. Prince Aemond’s silky voice speaks as he’s still turned to them-. But do not cheer, my lord. What comes may not be wedding congratulations-. He mumbles with slowness, gulping at last.
Lord Borros furrows his brows with expectance, staring at the open doors of the hall. Aemond gulps again, feeling his heart beating fastly, his hands starting to sweat, his eye nearly wanting to cry.
-Prince Lucerys Velaryon!-
And, when that name was announced, Aemond’s heart immediately stopped beating. His eyes opened wider, and his body tensed up completely, within a second. Fear and nerves automatically abandoned him as he started to turn around again. Hate and rage took their place.
He was wrong. They didn’t send Daera…
Aemond turned around with slowness and delicacy, staring at the newly arrived prince. And when he saw him, Luke became frozen.
They sent one of the bastards instead.
-Son of princess Rhaenyra Targaryen-, the guard announces.
Lucerys doesn’t believe his eyes. He almost has a heart attack when suddenly finding his uncle just steps from him, in the very hall, under the same roof, under the same thunders and lightnings.
All anxiousness from before were forgotten by Aemond. As sneaky and tauntly as ever, he stares at the boy from feet to head, using his only eye, and nearly poking him with it. For the first time in his life, Aemond feels joy seeing Lucerys. Well, um…let us call it joy.
When a thunder strokes, Luke forced himself to look away from there. Even though his little hands are now sweating below his gloves, he tells himself that here his uncle can’t hurt him, and won’t.
-Lord Borros…-, the boy names. From his seat, Lord Borros look at him with a cold and bored expression, already tired of his presence. Aemond looks at the lord too, delicately, blinking slowly, reading his face-. I brought you a message from my mother…the Queen-. He stresses, fearlessly and bravely.
Aemond presses his lips, humming lowly when thinking of the whore of Dragonstone.
-Yet earlier yesterday, I received an envoy from the King-. Borros answers, briefly raising his brown brows-. Which is it? King or Queen?-. He wonders. With his lips-parted, Luke quickly glanced at Aemond, who’s looking back at him without even blinking-. The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it!-. He pointed, and then laughed at his own joke, finding it hilarious. By his right, Maris snorted lowly, not finding him funny at all-. What’s your mother message?-. The lord asks with harshness, almost tauntly.
Without flinching, Lucerys raised a hand that held the paper Rhaenyra gave him before departing. A guard grabbed it, and took it towards Lord Borros. Meanwhile, the princeling again looks to his uncle, who rarely now was looking down, to the floor. There’s a brown-haired woman standing at his side. He hasn’t looked at her once.
Never a man of letters, Lord Borros grew impatience when who is supposed to read his messages didn’t make act of presence.
-Where’s the bloody maester?!-. He then shouts, looking all around. A lord from his court immediately nodded and shot out running to look for the maester.
The only thing heard is the wind.
Aemond stares at his nephew, back again, smelling his fear. Luke is frightened of him, he always has. And, oh, isn’t this a dream? The bastard alone, in a foreign land he doesn’t know. The only person of here he knows is one that has dreamt, since childhood, to slay him.
Lucerys, with great bravery, stares back at his uncle too, never flinching, but blinking. Aemond doesn’t. After some silent seconds, the little prince clutches his hand to his sword’s handle, below his cape.
The One-Eyed Prince remembers the last time they saw each other, when the boy snickered recklessly when a roasted pig was placed in front of him. Actually, the one-eyed remember everything that the bastard has done to him, every time they meet.
The maester, at last, arrives, running. Cassandra rolled her eyes at him. The old man is quick to take the paper, cracked the seal, and read the message destined to Lord Borros, who awaited with furrowed brows. Noticing some doubt on his maester’s eyes, the lord became uneasy.
Oh, and when being whispered to his lordship’s ears, a frown stole across his face, and his chest came up and down while his expression was an offended one.
-“Remind” me of my father’s oath?-. He speaks slowly, wanting to know if he had understood correctly. Luke remained as silent as a wall, not having expected to be talked at that way-. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact!-. Lord Borros shouts angrily, pointing at the couple of the room.
Ellyn looks at the boy with certain dullness, not entertained by his presence. On the other hand, the man besides her glares at that child with a passionate rage on the only eye he has. She can almost hear the violent thoughts he’s having.
-If I do as your mother bids…-Lord Baratheon leans front on his seat, staring at the princeling-…which one of my daughters will you wed…boy?-. He harshly asked, looking at his left, where Cassandra -grossed out-, Maris -nearly hopeful-, and Floris -serious- turned to look at him in silence.
-My lord…-. Prince Lucerys could only blush-. I am not free to marry-. He replied, thinking of Rhaena’s purple eyes and kind hands-. I’m already betrothed to my sister Rhaena-. The prince declares, looking sideways the cursed place of the hall.
Aemond is blatantly amused, with a cocky smirk on his lips as he senses the lord’s great reject to his half-sister’s poor leadership skills. That filthy whore. Uf, not to even mention her bastard’s clear lack of politics knowledge.
-So you come with empty hands-, Lord Borros says slowly, nodding-. Go home, pup!-. He tells, whilst prince Lucerys looked down with parted lips, instantly thinking how he has failed his mother, how disappointed she’ll be when learning House Baratheon does not stand with them-. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes!-. He spoke with severe harshness, making himself known offended.
Lucerys gulps, breathing in deeply.
-I shall take your answer to The Queen, my lord-. The boy agreed, stressing that word as if his life depended on it.
Prince Aemond breathes in with deepness and slowness, blinking lightly. His blood boils even though his lips smirk. Alicent is the Dowager Queen. Helaena is Queen, if anything. They are the true female monarchs at moment.
Luke turns around, starting to leave the Round Hall.
The Blacks go around saying whatever they want about people, naming whoever they want as they want, however they want and…without consequences ever.
At Aegon’s Coronation, the lives of his family were severely put in danger by Rhaenys and her attack in The Dragonpit. She killed dozens, harmed thousands, destroyed half the building’s floor and attempted against their well-being when placing her dragon right by their faces. Her dragon roared a war cry and left them frightened…with no consequence.
“My brother is King now”, Aemond realizes. Everything has changed, the course of history itself. Viserys -the cunt- is no longer here to protect and shield anybody from the consequences they deserve. “The bastard, oh…”. The bastard must taste justice for the first time in his life.
-Wait!-. The One-Eyed Prince’s voice filled the hall. Lucerys stopped walking, turning around-. My lord Strong…-, he beautifully says, with his arms crossed behind his back, and his eye wide opened.
Speechless, Luke walks back the step he had before advanced. He stares at his uncle in shock, not believing that again he is using this word.
-Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm…-Aemond walks gracefully. His coat rocks as he steps. Within the second, Ellyn walks away from him too, feeling a strange heat coming out of him-…trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?-. He wonders, narrowing his eye.
-I will not fight you-. Luke nearly scoffs, recalling the promise he made to his mother-. I came as a messenger, not a warrior-. He stresses firmly, shaking his head.
-A fight would be little challenge…-, the prince murmurs softly, looking at the floor.
His nephew takes a light step back, gulping for a second. But then again, he forced himself to keep a brave appearance. Everybody is looking at them.
-No-. Prince Aemond speaks harsh, raising a hand, and grabbing his black leather patch with his five fingers. And then…he took it off-. I want you to put out your eye-. He says maliciously, with a blue sapphire on his lost eye’s socket, shining more than the lightnings outside.
Lucerys’ facade was thrown away. The boy shivered strongly when seeing that gem in that place. He parted his lips, and took a step back. He remembers that time, in Driftmark, when he found Daera and him on the beach. He has never forgotten how his uncle grabbed him by the neck and curses his name while glaring at him with that cold blue stone.
Luke starts to get scared, really scared, recalling that he’s alone in here. Everyone in the hall stared at the prince’s sapphire in shock too, never believing that that was to be under his patch. Ellyn’s eyes showed great terror, and Maris nearly laughed.
-…as payment for mine-. Aemond speaks smoothly, staring at him endlessly. He does not blink. His hear is beating fast, for he knows everyone is looking at him with all kinds of fears, but he’s convincing himself of something: these are new times, things are changing, and so will their perspective of him-. Hmm, plan to make a gift of it to my mother…-, he taps his tongue in the superior part of his mouth, smirking briefly.
Lord Borros, blinkless, stares at the scene from his seat, anxious.
-One will serve-. Without having to look, Aemond fetches a dagger from his belt, unsheathing it. Afterwards, he threw it in the cold floor towards Lucerys, who looked at it in shock-. I would not blind you-, he shakes his head, merciful. Aemond breathes in deeply, deciding to -lords- deciding to add something else-. Wouldn’t want my dear wife to cry over a sightless brother…-, and with this, he spoke his mercy’s reason.
Looking at the dagger, Lucerys gulped and his heart skipped a bit in that moment. He looks up again, finding a cocky smirk on his uncle’s lips, he who had just disrespected Daera’s name and sake.
-You will not mock me-. The young prince spoke with as much confidence as he could, feeling attacked and unsafe-. She’s my brother’s wife, not yours!-. He pointed with firmness, almost yelling.
Aemond blinks cockily, slowly sighing through his nose while thinking of her.
-My lady-, he softly referred to the Rogue Princess. All ear listens to him in shock-. She cuddles with me every night; of those she is away from you lot. She wears two sapphire rings, and a belt and hair of my own, in her-. Aemond speaks of her with an indelible glim of sadness on his eye. Luke breathes fastly, shaking his head. Ellyn shared a confused look with her father, whilst her betrothed keeps chanting of…a woman he loves?-. She sings me to sleep, and wakes me up with the warmest of kisses-. The One-Eyed Prince narrows his eye, having a thousand memories at once. He smirks, looking at his loved’s brother-. She gives much and more, my Daera…-. He assured lovingly.
In that moment, prince Lucerys had a vivid image of his sister’s sapphire rings, those she never takes off, those he sometimes sees her kissing or whispering too without she knowing. It is the same sapphire as the one of his eye, the same color, the same…everything.
Luke breathes in fastly, pushing those thoughts away. He looks at the dagger, and then looks at him again, agitated. He made use of his last strand of bravery.
-No!-. And so he rejected the prince’s request, scrunching his nose.
Aemond opens his eye widely. His pupil, as huge as Vhagar.
-Then you are craven as well as a traitor, and a snitch-. Aemond declares with retained rage, calmed.
-Not here-, Lord Borros is quick to say.
And, as always happens in Daera’s absence, Aemond’s fury ruled over him.
-GIME ME YOUR EYE…!-. Aemond shrieked, running towards the child while grabbing the dagger from the floor. Lucerys flinched and trembled, gasping and walking backwards and dumbly unsheathing his sword-, OR I WILL TAKE IT, BASTARD!-. He growled with rage.
-NOT IN MY HALL!-. Lord Borros stood up, yelling at them.
Right at that second, prince Aemond stopped. He hurts his hand by how strongly he’s holding the dagger. His sane and lost eye both glare at the bastard prince with angriness and doubt. He didn’t want to stop.
-The boy came as an envoy!-. Borros remembers, letting everyone hear him-. I’ll not have bloodshed under my roof-. He denied-. Take prince Lucerys back to his dragon, now!-. He ordered to the guards.
Luke’s shoulders come up and down as he breathes fastly, sheathing his sword again under the cold gaze of Aemond, who pressed his lips while his whole body was shaking of rage.
The guards did as they were told; they escorted the young brown-haired prince back to the castle yard. Sighing longly, and with an evil smirk, prince Aemond played with the dagger between his fingers without looking at it, sheathing it again. He’s pleased of the bastard’s fear.
Lord Borros breathes with heaviness, taking seat again and simply rolling his eye, mumbling some curses. Ellyn gulps nervously from her place, not wanting to keep staring at that gem between that ugly scar of her betrothed.
Everyone kept silence while The One-Eyed Prince, smirking, placed back the patch on his eye, quickly fixing some strands of his hair. And there it might have ended, but for the girl Maris. Less comely than her sisters, she was angry with Aemond for preferring them to her.
-You marvel me, prince Aemond-. The lady smiles to him. Still smirking, he looks at her, as did her father and sisters-. Having beef with a child that still has not one hair strand on his bollocks-. Maris leans her head to a side. The prince’s face started to slowly change.
-Maris, for the fuck’s sake-. Lord Borros tsks his tongue.
-Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?-. Maris asked the prince, in tones sweet as honey-. I am so glad you chose my sister-. She sighed, relieved. Ellyn looked worried for herself from her place-. I want a husband with all his parts-. The lady declared, looking at her nails.
Aemond Targaryen’s mouth twisted in rage. The word “rage” falls short to what the prince truly felt in that moment. His only eye got blinded by hatred when he’s made seen as a coward cripple, as he has always been made to look like. AS brother of the King, he decided on something:
That ends today.
-Lord Borros-. Aemond walks towards his seat-. I ask you for my leave-. He spoke fastly and harshly, not blinking once. There’s a red tear covering his whole eye.
The Lord of Storm’s end shrugged and answered.
-It is not for me to tell you what to do when you are not beneath my roof-. He told him with simplicity.
He’ll come to regret that, soon.
Lord Borros’ knights moved aside as Prince Aemond rushed to the doors. Ellyn stuttered while trying to call him, but he literally ran to the exit, not ever looking a her again. She sighs, and blows a strand of her brown hair. Then the sisters started to fight, but that’s a matter we’ll leave to their father.
Outside the storm was raging. Thunder rolled across the castle, the rain fell in blinding sheets, and from time-to-time great bolts of blue-white lightning lit the world as bright as day.
Aemond runs under the rain, feeling his hair getting his soak, his pointy jaw dripping multiple raindrops. He growls as he walks, and every step he takes is a memory he has, echoing on his mind.
. . .
-You blame me of stealing with no consequences, but I am the one half-blinded after I made something for my sake-
. . .
-…they did it because they thought I did not deserve it-
. . .
Aemond cried in disbelief feeling how the sea turned into the blood that ran through his fingers with no stop.
. . .
Though the cold rain befalls on Aemond’s slim body, he does not flinch, he is not cold. His blood is hot.
His heart is boiling.
. . .
-I have no word in what I am! I! They talk, and talk and talk about what I am! But is due to what HE made me be! LUKE! He is the reason why everyone talks about me! Will you deny it?!-
. . .
-I want to crush Jace’s skull…-
. . .
The One-Eyed Prince turned around, hurriless. His red face, wrinkled with pain and dolor, soaked with tears and poison, painted by injustice and abusiveness. All, caused by them.
. . .
-I want to take an eye out of Luke’s face-
■ ■ ■
Aemond growled at the same time he began to climb up Vhagar’s rope, holding them with harshness and never blinking; his palms began to bleed but not he did care.
The One-Eyed Prince roars louder than his dragon as he fastly climbs to his saddle.
“If they can attack us without consequences, then so can we. What happens next is on their own heads”.
What happened next was war.
■ ■ ■
Price Lucerys is being escorted back to the yard of the castle, taken by six silent guards that march at a same pace by his sides.
He goes walking with them, but he’s heart is beating so rapidly and his knees are shaking so much that he’s swears he’s to faint at any given moment. Stressed, scared and desperate, the brown-haired’s peace dwells far from him in these trying moments.
So, he took the most stupid decision of his life.
-Pa-pardon me-. Luke stutters, halting his steps and the guards as well-. Can you please show me a…a privy?-. He questions, curving his brows.
The Baratheon knights, never-speaking lads, agreed to his petition. Some of them even feel pity for him. The boy obviously isn’t prepared for this kind of missions, much less alone and without anyone to guide him. Whose idea was this? Who allowed him? If it was his mother, “the Queen”, then shame on her.
Luke locks the doors, and lets out a shaky sigh. He closes his eyes and shakes his head from side to side, gulping. He feels how much his hands are sweating, and how his undergarments are wet because, well…the poor lad pissed himself a little when his diabolic uncle almost slashed his face with that dagger.
The brown-haired boy sobs as lowly as possible, covering his face with his black gloves. Anxiously, he tries to calm his breathing.
But oh, everything that Aemond said…it haunts him. Alleging that he’s still with Daera, and not only that, but that they are even married! “Is- is that true?”. Luke doesn’t believe it, perhaps doesn’t want to, but now, how can he explain those rings on her fingers? No no no no. There must be another explanation, a fair one! He may have been mad with his sister during these last days but he’s more than sure of something: she would never be with someone that would harm him.
Because that’s what Aemond wants, and he said it as explicitly as possible, out there in the Round Hall. He wants to maim Luke badly. He nearly made it, hadn’t it been for Lord Borros’ intervention.
Lucerys’ lips tremble, nearly beginning to cry. But he stopped, calling himself a coward if he started to cry. The boy clears his throat, and straightened his shoulders, breathing as deeply as possible. He must be strong. He must do the smart thing now.
Run.
Arrax roared agitated when he saw Luke sprinting out of the fortress, running to him with all of his clothes and mane soaked by the fierce rain above them. The dragon, anxious himself, ran to his rider to win all the time possible.
Arriving at his dragon’s side, Lucerys looks sideways for a quick moment, fearing to see The Queen of All Dragons. But surprisingly, he found more fear when not finding her in there. Vhagar was gone, completely. Her breathing and growls are no longer making echo.
Thunders clashes on his ears as he looks around, mouth-opened, blinking fastly due to all the raindrops falling on his eyes. Lucerys breathes quickly, grunting and placing his hands on the pale dragon.
-Tokymarvose![Focus!]-. The prince yells over the rain, speaking in High Valyrian-. Ley onh sitnu, Arrax! [Pay attention, Arrax!]-. He demanded, caressing his scales while he growls lowly, altered by the precipitation-. Lykiri… [Calm…]-, Luke speaks as softly as possible, petting him-. Rytes, ryvas! [Listen! Obey!]-, he remarked.
Without wasting another second, the young princeling climbed into his saddle and held tightly to it.
-Soves, Arrax! [Fly, Arrax!]-. He ordered firmly, with an anxious lump in his throat.
Within a moment, the young pale dragon took off from the castle yard, flapping his wings with quickness and strength, fastly rising towards the heavy clouds belonging to the present deluge.
Luke is grabbing his saddle’s handles as if his life depended on it, feeling how violently the wind is blowing and his face being hit by the rain.
Soon, Storm’s End and its great fortress disappeared from any sight of him. They now fly right above Shipbreaker Bay, where the eye of the storm is gathered, having no softness in it and, of course, no mercy.
The sky is so dark and the clouds so heavy that any would think that is nighttime but, in reality, is barely past noon.
Prince Lucerys breathes fastly, having a scowl on his face. His endlessly sipping all the water falling on his mouth. And yet, the boy is thirsty, and his mouth dry. He shakes his wet hair, shaking off some of the many drops in it. He sighs with tiredness, already wanting this to be over.
Something rumbles around him, something that felt like it was coming from everywhere. Something like a roar, a deep and mysterious one. The princeling quickly turned his head, looking back with great nerves. He kept looking around confused.
It didn't occur to him, on time, that where he should have looked…was up.
While a thunder rumbles, Luke realized that less raindrops were falling on his hair, but the rain was still savage as before. Confused, he looked up, and it that very same moment the rain started to hit him strongly again.
The prince presses his lips, mistrusted, looking at his right, then at his left. Then forward.
Vhagar came out of the clouds from one moment to another, directly towards him. Luke startled and gasped instantly, turning his head around while feeling that his heart stopped beating at all.
-HAHAHAHAHAHA…!-, an evil laughs makes echo in the sky as the green dragon hided again between the clouds.
Luke’s chest comes up and down. He opens his eyes widely, and quickly turns around again. Arrax immediately started to flap faster, not having to wait for his command to know that they are now, doubtlessly, in a great hurry.
As the small dragon flies as fastly as he can, an old green ugly thing appears right behind him, with huge wings and wrinkled face. Lucerys looked back over his shoulder, shrieking, only to find that ugly thing opening its mouth a taking a violent bit of the air he was breathing.
When Luke yelled, Arrax instantly starts to fly lower, escaping.
-I SEE YOU, ILIBONOS![BASTARD!]-. A raged voice came from the old dragon’s back, full of hatred and evilness.
‘Tis Prince Aemond Targaryen and his great dynastic dragoness, Vhagar, who pursue the young prince and his inexpert dragon into a less than fair confrontation.
Vhagar took another bite of air, and grumbled when trying to get the small dragon between her paws but failed. Both lady dragon and her rider saw Arrax plummeting quickly, getting away from them. Ah no no, they won’t allow it.
The Queen of All Dragons roared savagely as she, fearlessly, made a narrow turn and started to fly on plummet as well, going in a straight line right behind the other two young ones. Feeling a great deal of air blowing on his wet mane and face, prince Aemond grunts with lips sealed.
These sealed lips are smiling, nevertheless, smirking with great pleasure and maliciousness as the prince can almost hear his nephew’s quailed shrieks and sobs. Aemond is almost starting to laugh, highly amused by all.
-TERYH! HARRAS! [QUICKLY! TURN!]-. Lucerys yelled with despair when looking back for a second and finding the old dragon approaching quickly to them from behind.
Arrax does as told, soaring with his wings whilst giving a turn and starting to fly as low as possible; his rider whines. Tightly held to his saddle, Aemond growls with his fierce eye nailed on that ugly brown mane, following it at all times.
Luke wrinkles all of his face when he pulls his saddle with great strength, making Arrax to do a certain turn, flying sideways. The young boy, while pulling and pulling, whined and sobbed with despair. He’s given to fear already, incapable of deny that he’s scared.
Had the sky been calm, as his sweet sister Princess Daera’s eyes, Prince Lucerys might have been able to outfly his pursuer, for Arrax was younger and swifter…but such eyes were not between the clouds, hence why the day was as black as Prince Aemond’s heart.
Aemond cackles with his mouth wide-opened. His smile is a beautiful and blissful one while his eye shines with a big satisfaction. He rocks on his saddle from side to side while following those little beasts, more than glad. Oh, lords…he’s so happy.
In a moment, the smallest dragon let out a shriek of seemingly hope when he found a safe place. A narrow opening between two gigantic sea stones, where he and his rider fit perfectly. The other beast, bigger than the sky, couldn't fit.
When the dragonling and its pup rider hided between those rocks, The One-Eyed Prince roared with rage and strongly pulled Vhagar’s rope, making her to fly higher.
The green dragoness roared with him, rising her huge body.
-Little fucker-, Aemond’s hoarse voice mumbles under his breath while, from beneath, he stares at Arrax swiftly flying between the stones.
“The bastard is hiding, as always” the prince thinks with rage. Lucerys doesn’t know how to face things, how to treat or confront them. “Let this be a lesson to him, for the future”.
With tears rolling on his red cheeks, the bastard prince looked up with eyes of fear. He saw The Queen of All Dragons’s grotesque body soaring over the rocks, going as calmer as an old woman herself, but completely menacing and lethal.
Vhagar was five time the size of her foe, the hardened survivor of a hundred battles.
As the rain grew every time more savage, Aemond looks around while he licks his lips, having lost Luke out of sight. He growls, smiling and nearing his chest to his saddle when holding it tighter. “He can’t be far”.
Lucerys gulped and looked forward again; Arrax flapped his wings with great fastness, already coming out from those two stones that gave them a temporal protection.
Aemond forms a smile that wrinkled his pointy dripping chin. He thinks -time after time- about all the times that bastard has wronged him, of all the ill things he has done to him with no repercussion. And finally, after all these years, he’s returning the favor, he’s bringing justice. He’s making Luke feel as helpless as he felt that night.
Completely free, The One-Eyed Prince laughed wickedly towards the sky.
Vhagar flaps her enormous green wings, beautifully snaking in the sky with her huge body as his rider caresses her back with his gloved hands.
Luke breathes fast, but starts to breath even faster when feeling Arrax beginning to shake his neck with great anxiety and uneasiness, wanting to turn around. He gasps again and again, holding his saddle tighter.
-To home, Arrax! HOME!-. Luke yells his orders, with heavy tears rolling down his cheeks. Arrax roars desperately, turning around from one moment to another and flapping with quickness-. HOME, ARRAX!-. He screamed.
Aemond growls while he looks around, trying to find the little bastard again. He licks his wet lips while Vhagar soars.
-Gēlȳni enkā goch jemela! [You owe me a debt!]-. The One-Eyed Prince yelled so that all the sky would hear him. He clenches his teeth, holding his saddle with only one hand-. TAOBA! [BOY!]-. He tauntly calls, wanting for him to hear.
The only sound is that of the rain and his dragon. Aemond hears it while looking left and right, slowly. Until, from a moment to another, a broken scream reached his ears too.
-DAOR, ARRAX [NO, ARRAX!]-
And a blast of dragon fire is spitted right directly into Vhagar’s face. Aemond gasped in shock when he saw his dragon growling painfully when being attacked. She closed her eyes and sticked her tongue out, feeling the youngest’s fire hit her.
Arrax and Luke flew swiftly in front of them, and Aemond followed them with his eye as they passed.
-DOHAERAS, ARRAX, SYMUNAI BESOTS! [OBEY, ARRAX, SERVE ME!]-. Lucerys yelled with all the strength and fear of his life, being quickly carried away by his scared dragon.
The Queen of All Dragons opened her mouth with a loud growl of rage and shook her neck fiercely, with thirst for blood. Her rider instantly grew pale.
-NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!-. Aemond starts to yell loudly, shaking his head from side to side-. NO, VHAGAR, NO!-. But despite his screams, the green dragon turned and began to follow the same path of the other. Aemond’s heart beats savagely-. DAOR! [NO!] SERVE ME VHAGAR, NO!-. The prince pulls the ropes as tightly as he can, hurting his hands and throat while screaming-. DOHAERAS, VHAGAR! [OBEY, VHAGAR!]-. He insisted and insisted, trying to get her away.
Here is when the Prince Aemond started to think straight, to think clear. That turned him into the more terrified one. This is not only his nephew, bastard of her half-sister and prince of the realm…This is the loved brother of his wife.
As Arrax flies fastly, Lucerys looked back for a second and then straight forward again. And when he looks forward, his eyes got cleared with hope when he saw the ending of the dark clouds. He prayed and prayed.
And his prayers were answered, for Arrax took the prince out of that storm. They found themselves in a clear calmed blue sky. They have left thunders and lightning behind them.
Lucerys blinks multiple times, shocked. He breathes in and out, in and out with fastness as he looks all around with an open mouth. The princeling looks at all sides, realizing that they indeed have escaped the old beast.
The boy thinks in one thousand things at the same time; his heart is beating so fastly.
He thinks of Dragonstone, of what he’s to do when home again after this experience. He’ll learn to sail a fleet. He’ll hug Rhaenyra, squeeze her tightly. He’ll never argue with Daera anymore. He’ll tell Rhaena, that he loves her.
And with this in mind, the prince looks to his right. Afterwards, he looks to his left.
In less than a second, he cowered and let out a half scream as Vhagar emerged from the clouds with his mouth wide open, her millions of sharp teeth piercing him and his dragon in less than a blink.
-VHAGAR!!-. Aemond screamed like a wretch, startling on his saddle and extending one arm forward, only to catch air.
-NOO!-, he hears bones cracking and sees blood splashing everywhere only with a bare jaw movement the dragoness made. Some she swallowed; others fell-. No…!-, he lost his voice in that moment.
Aemond’s hands fell loose to the sides of his body. With his mouth wrinkled down and his eye wide opened, he turns around in his saddle, and looks down with shock.
What he finds is half-a-wing, half-a-tail and half-a-paw of Arrax, falling broken to be swallowed by the thunderclouds and the storm-lashes waters of the bay.
Prince Aemond starts to turn his head, slowly, whilst his only eye gets was dyed red, filled with tears and true terror. His mouth gets dry, and when he closed his lips and gulped his throat hurted. His tongue tastes like blood.
His ears began to hear war drums, that were growing louder and louder with every shaky breath he’d take. His chest comes up and down and his brows curved dreadfully.
An explosion after explosion after explosion after explosion.
Feeling his whole-body trembling, Aemond knew the war drums growing, beating and exploding in his ears were warning him of something.
Daera’s fury.
■ ■ ■
When night was very well fallen on Dragonstone, a raven arrived to its shore.
Maester Gerardys gave it directly to Queen Rhaenyra, without cracking the seal. In those moments, the Queen was putting to sleep one of her middle sons, Joffrey. Cuddled in the boy’s bed, Nyra didn’t wait a moment to open the paper when realizing it had Jace and Daera’s initials in the fold.
When reading the message, the Queen sighed, smiled, and immediately gathered her Black Council, leaving Joffrey to sleep with a kiss on his forehead. Rhaenyra didn’t notice, but Joff followed her secretly, wanting to attend the court at present.
The Black Council quickly met in the Chamber of the Painted Table. In there, Queen Rhaenyra announced that her children, Jacaerys and Daera, had won House Arryn; they won The Vale to their side. Strategics and tactics were immediately put in the table, wasting no time.
The young Joffrey, hiding beneath a wee table and its cloth, is peeking at everything with a mesmerized eye. When seeing Baela and Rhaena on the other side of the room, he wanted to snicker, but contained himself; he wants to remain hidden.
Rhaena stans near a window, having her pink dragon-egg clutched to her chest, caressing it distractedly while she stares at the dark night sky. Baela sits beside Lord Gormon Massey and Ser Erryk Cargyll in another table of the room, pointing a map of the Crownlands and they speak.
Prince Daemon was not in the room. He was rather busy, occupied with the preparations of his march to Harrenhal. That, until a guard until a guard stopped him in his tracks, right in the middle of a hallway, with eyes filled of fear.
The guard spoke.
Now, prince Daemon walks with slowness. Guards at each side of the hallway see him pass and remain stiff. The only thing the prince hears are his own steps, barely, listening only to the echo of them, to the…pressure they make on the floor.
His slow steps head him to the Chamber of The Painted Table.
He is crestfallen; his hair bounces slowly as he walks, his lips are parted and loosen, whilst his eyes are covered by a curved frown. His eyes are never blinking, holding a thin glass layer in them. Perhaps this is too risky to say about our brave Rogue Prince, but he looks…traumatized.
From his hiding place, Joff turned his head around when his father enters the room. The boy was about to snicker playfully, but as soon as he saw Daemon’s face, his lips stopped smiling and fell down with slowness. The kid gets confused, following him with his brown eyes.
Daemon arrived to the room in pure silence. The chamber is full of people, everybody either occupied on a talk, a discussion or in a book or a map. Each of them is doing something, working and thinking, the prince’s children included.
At the head of the Painted Table, Rhaenyra was carefully listening to Lord Bartimos, Ser Lorent and Ser Steffon. The Queen was really into the conversation, until something made her to turn her head. With this, she finds her husband entering the chambers. She blinked when seeing him walking with his head low.
As he starts to walk by the table, the prince sniffs his nose, and then raises a hand to squeeze it lightly, not wanting to sob out loud. His wife’s eyes opened a little wider than usual, wondering if she saw wrong.
Not understanding his silence nor his ashamed walk, Rhaenyra starts to get confused and worried, following him with her eyes. Ser Steffon follows the queen’s eyes and he finds Daemon walking by him.
The knight only looked at him for a second; he nodded towards him and mouthed the words “my prince”, afterwards returning to his prior talk. The prince didn’t hear anything.
The girls start to look at their father too, from their different places. Baela furrows her brows, and Rhaena tilts her head.
Rhaenyra doesn’t understand why he keeps crestfallen; the Queen starts to have a bad feeling about all of his silence.
Not too long after, Daemon arrived to her side, finally lifting up his eyes, revealing the tears in them. Nyra didn’t have time to react, for he took a hand of her into his, slowly starting to turn around and making her to do so as well. Rhaenyra gripped his fingers instantly, turning around, and looking at the burning fireplace with a curious expression.
The spouses now are with their backs turned to everyone; no one sees their faces anymore.
Foolishly crawling on his knees and hands, Joffrey comes out of his hiding place. Slowly, the boy starts to stand up, staring at his parents with parted lips and confused crystal eyes.
Little by little, everyone else in the chamber begins to look towards there as well, not understanding why they were whispering or hiding their faces. Prince Daemon never is ashamed of his words and, Queen Rhaenyra is always open to her people. “What is- what is going on?”, many wonder.
Rhaenyra listens closely, with her head lightly leaned to a side. Her brows got furrowed within a second.
-They report that Ae- Aemond was at Storm’s End…-
Daemon lets Rhaenyra’s hand go, crossing his own on his chest, feeling it hurt while he still speaks. The Queen starts to slouch little by little, listening.
-…Rests of a pale dragon was-washed up in the coast…-
Air left Rhaenyra’s lungs, whose wide eyes traveled to the fireplace.
Everybody in the room hears the echo of the prince’s words. Joffrey’s lips started to tremble. Baela stands up from her chair with shaky legs, terror on her eyes. Rhaena trembles from the window, slowly turning around her head.
-Lu-…Luke…Luke has been slain-
That was only heard by The Queen.
Rhaenyra’s shoulder stiffed up from a moment to another, her body rocked in the air and she limped loosely, nearly falling. Her head moves slightly while looking at the fireplace; her heart stopped beating.
Daemon looks down, letting his own tears fall.
Her knees got bent when a fire started to consume her from within in. Rhaenyra grabs her own belly and squeezes it between her fingers. She slouches and cries, cries and cries, whining with despair and pain.
Rhaena shakes her head, blinkless. Baela holds her weight with a table. Joffrey began to cry with fear when hearing his mother’s whines. He nearly fell back, quickly grabbed by Ser Erryk.
Rhaenyra shakes her head from side-to-side time after time. She touches and touches her belly, feeling it empty, feeling that something lacks in there. Oh she cries, tear and tear coming to her pained eyes.
But from a moment to another, an invisible force grabbed her shoulders and straightened them firmly. She took a deep breath while her head stopped its shaking. Her eyes reflected the flames of the fireplace, which trembled when she looked at them.
Rhaenyra began to turn around with stiff feet. Her shoulders come around first, and then her face start to do so too.
She revealed a swollen red face, with a sour tear on her right cheek and angry sharp brows. Her superior lip trembled. The Black Queen stared forward with mad grief in one eye, and war in the other.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warrnings: constant swearing, oral sex [fem receiving], fingering, innocence kink (is that even a thing???), manipulation, adultery, mentions of killing and kinslaying, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡
■ ■ ■
Kalistrox and Vermax, officially, have arrived to the Kingdom of Mountain and Vale.
From any point of the sky, both dragons can see the greatest castle of the region, The Eyrie, which majesty stands at the top of a tall mountain called The Giant’s Lance, and not for nothing. The structure is so pointy and sharp, so delicate and elegant.
“As High as Honor”. House Arryn’s motto couldn’t be more appropriate for them.
From the backs of their dragons, princes Jacaerys and Daera looked down with open lips, marveled by all the trees below them, and all the Mountains of The Moon in the surroundings. Everywhere they’d look, they’d find a mountain or a waterfall somewhere nearby. The Vale of Arryn is beautiful, to say the least.
Soon enough, after soaring in circles in the skies for a few moments, to make themselves noticed, they landed into the lush forest under. Kalistrox and Vermax both growled, curious and uncomfortable, feeling caged between all the trees that surround them.
With Jacaerys Velaryon and Daera Targaryen having descended upon The Eyrie on the prince’s young dragon, Vermax, and the princess’ ancient one, Kalistrox, their mission truly began; they will win The Vale of Arryn for their mother, Queen Rhaenyra.
-Shh, shh…-Daera shushes Kalistrox, caressing his golden scales while walking down his wing, looking around. Also glancing at the surroundings, her husband jumps down from his dragon, petting his head while he shrieks lowly.
Unconsciously walking towards the other, Jace and Daera looked at the many great tall trees, barely seeing the end of them, for they were so tall. They’re not used to be in the woods.
-I cannot remember the last time I was in a forest-, Jacaerys confesses with a curious smile-. Do you?-, he asks, narrowing his eyes to look at her.
Daera blinked slowly, looking away from the trees when remembering the last time she was in a wood. Six months ago, when her nephews Jaehaerys and Jaehaera turned half a year. Queen Alicent took the spirit to celebrate it with a camp to the Kingswood. She was in King’s Landing in those days, on her usual monthly visits to Helaena and the kids, and Aemond.
-…I do-, she answered, mumbling softly. Jacaerys looked at her, noticing nostalgia on her purple eyes.
The princess has a lot of quick memories, all at once, of that time in the woods with the royal family and the lords that accompanied him. She played with the kids non-stop, gossiped with Helaena only to be answered with laughs and scrunched-noses from her, hunted with the lords, bathed naked in a river, secretly danced with Aemond behind the trees at night, kissed with him… How could things be so different now, just from a moment to another?
During their flight here, Daera became aware of something that broke her heart. Lost in random memories and counting random days, she realized that…today is Jaehaera and Jaehaerys’ name day. Today they’re turning a year, and she’s not with them, and neither can. Their aunt, who loves them so much, is far far away from them on this special day, and there’s literally no way she could be there.
She was supposed to be at King’s Landing today, having returned with Rhaenyra on dragonback, as they promised, but everything went to shit. And they’re now here, at The Vale’s wood, away from anyone or anything they know.
-Is something wrong?-. Jace’s question took her out of her mind. Daera quickly sniffs her nose, raising her brows and looking up again.
-No, no-. She shakes her head from side to side-. Only smelling the pine trees, aren’t they lovely?-. She narrows her eyes, smiling and looking around again. Nevertheless, he remained looking at her.
-Daera…-, he whispered her name with softness. The princess glances at him, closing her lips, knowing that he knows there’s something up with her-. It is only me and you, and it will only be me and you during the whole length of our mission; for the first time is like this-. He raises his brows, getting closer to her with slow steps. Daera gulps lightly, curving her eyebrows while hearing his sympathetic tone-…I think we should tell each other everything-, the prince confesses with honesty.
The Rogue Princess gulps again, and starts to nod, actually agreeing with his statement. It is true. The Queen has given them a great responsibility to take, only to the two of them. The best thing is for them to act as one, then, and for that…they’ll have to break some walls.
-I miss Helaena a lot-, she whispered-…and the children…-Daera confessed. Moved, Jacaerys sighed, listening to her-. They’re turning a year today, did you know?-. She smirks tinyly, thinking of those two precious.
-Do they?-, the prince get surprised-. Has it…has it really been a year since we were on Driftmark?-, he asks, not believing how fast time has passed.
-An exact year-, she mumbles with a little sad smile. She couldn’t help but to also think that it has been to an exact year since Luke snaked on her and Aemond, on the beach. The day that everything changed for them, when everyone knew of their affair-. Time does fly, indeed-. She sighed.
-It does…-. Jace whispers, remembering too that night, the very same night the idea of marrying her came to his mind, to save her from Aemond’s hands.
-And I- I fear for them, for Helaena and the children-. Daera confesses, sniffing her nose with unquietness. He furrows his brows, wondering why-. They’re practically alone in that Keep…and I’m not there to help them-, she murmurs, looking down. Daera hurted herself with her own words, thinking of Aemond, thinking that he was in the Red Keep, not having an idea he was actually at Storm’s End.
Knowing that Aemond was completely dedicated to putting Aegon on the throne -which he achieved- Daera feels that now Helaena and her children are truly alone…
-I understand your sadness, wife-. Jacaerys nods, raising a hand to caress one of her arms. She curves her brows, softly, looking at his brown comprehensive eyes-. Know that they won’t be alone for long. You’ll see that, as soon as this is over, you shall reunite with them again, under different terms than these-. He promised, so sure of himself that he actually made his wife to start to smile.
Trusting in that good fate, Daera smirked towards him, lifting up her cheeks. Jacaerys copied her expression, sweetly smiling to her, feeling a little blush on his cheeks.
-You’re good with words, sweet prince-. She whispers with softness, making him to look down, still smiling, and flattered. Daera sighs, caressing his arms and then patting them-. Let’s go to lady Jeyne Arryn now, so you can show off your wise mouth with her too-. She winks an eye, beginning to walk. Jace sighed and chuckled, following her right by her side.
The riders said goodbye to their dragons, promising they’d be back soon. Both princes walked between the trees of the forest, soon remembering of that time they were in here too, with their other siblings, when they were still kids.
In this very forest was that The Rogue Princess gained her soubriquet, after she murdered three rapists that tried to harm her and her sisters. Always a good moment to remember that one.
■ ■ ■
When the Valyrian princes reached The Eyrie’s gates they presented themselves to the guards standing outside. The knights were informed they were before prince Jacaerys Velaryon, firstborn of the Realm’s Delight, and princess Daera Targaryen, firstborn of the Rogue Prince.
They demanded to have an audience with the Lady of The Vale, and none refuted their wish. The princes were immediately taken into The Eyrie, being guided by three honorable knights of House Arryn. The princes were always side by side, he by her right and she by his left.
The castle’s insides are more than beautiful, perhaps more than the outsides. The walls are great and the floors well-polished. Many ancestral heraldries are in disposal around the hallways of the castle. A strong breeze comes from every part they look to. The fortress’ freshness is immaculate.
Soon, they reached the High Hall of the Eyrie, where they found a high throne. And, in there, Lady Jeyne Arryn looked down at them, powerfully seated on a huge and majestic throne sculped in the form of a very delicate tree.
The woman is a redhead woman of strong factions, her eyes are as blue as the sky above her land. Her red hair falls to her back and in front of her shoulders. Some strands of it are over her breast, which are almost in full display, for the lady wears a very open dress, with a wide neckline that reaches the beginning of her belly bottom.
-I present to you, my lady: the prince Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Ser Laenor Velaryon and princess Rhaenyra, and the princess Daera Targaryen, daughter of prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Laena Velaryon!-, one of the knights announces with a firm voice.
Jace and Daera stopped walking at the same time after they entered the rooms. The princess smiled tinyly when her mother was named, while the young man parted his lips, bemused, being incapable of not glancing for a quick second to the woman’s breasts, white and big.
The woman looked at him too, better said she stared. A smile crossed her lips, while a shine appeared in her eyes.
-My lady-, Daera bowed her head down.
-My lady-, Jace does the same, both respectful.
The Maiden of The Vale, Lady Jeyne Arryn, was five-and-thirty, more than ten years their seniors. Never wed, Lady Jeyne had reigned over the Vale since the death of her father and elder brothers at the hands of the Stone Crows of the hills when she was three.
There exist many tales about her, many that both princes have heard of. Some tell that this famous maiden was in truth a highborn harlot with a voracious appetite for men. Others attest that Jeyne Arryn prefers the intimate companionship of other women.
We ought to point out that this is not Daera’s first time in The Vale since she was declared The Rogue Princess. She has returned other times after that, in some of the trips she accompanied princess Rhaenys to. However, this is Jace’s first time in here since that time. He remembers little, and doesn’t know which is the truth about the lady’s preference. Daera does. The former one is the true one.
But, we are here to attend to the matters that happen in the High Hall of The Eyrie, rather than its bedchambers.
-Princess-, Lady Jeyne Arryn salutes the white-haired woman, who nodded towards her, serious. They have never been very fond of each other because, as we know, The Vale is not very fond either of the girl’s father, Daemon-. My prince…-, she then looks at Jacaerys, bowing her head.
-My lady-. He nodded too, keeping a serious expression. He holds in his hand a rolled paper-. We come in the behalf of The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen-. He informed.
-“Queen”?-, Jeyne repeated, slightly furrowing her red eyebrows. Jace breathes in, pressing his lips.
-If it hasn’t arrived to your knowledge yet, then we may inform you that…my uncle -my husband’s grandsire-, Viserys, has…died-. Daera informed with a slow pace, raising her brows to the top of her forehead. Her heart and Jace’s ached internally when thinking of the passing King.
The lady on the throne’s lips parted, surprised.
-Viserys died?-. She asked, with a light sorrow being palpable on her voice. She breathes in, blinking a few times and raising her shoulders-. No raven has arrived from the capital in these days, no word announcing the death of King Viserys, nor about the coronation of princess Rhaenyra as Queen-. Jeyne informs, briefly shaking her head.
-Because dragons fly faster than ravens-. Daera nodded. Jacaerys smirked tinyly, side-eyeing for a second. Lady Arryn, lips-parted, nods slowly, looking at the two of them, and then fixating her eyes on the boy-. My cousin, Aegon, has usurped the Iron Throne-, she suddenly informed as well, making her to go speechless.
-He was crowned King, unfairly, while my mother was in Dragonstone, unknown to the new of King Viserys’ death-. Jacaerys tells with a serious tone, looking at the lady, who stares at him with furrowed brows.
Lady Jeyne looked down for a second, clearly thoughtful. It clearly is much to take in, in less than five minutes since their arrival. She would have first invited them to some crackers and tea, but the matter is indeed too delicate to postpone.
-My lady-
The Velaryon prince’s voice made Jeyne to look again towards them. She sees how they both walked three steps forward, getting closer to her high throne. She recognized the look of bravery on both the princes’ eyes.
-We have come to ask for your support and that of your land, to have you by our side, and to fight for our Queen’s right and honor-. Prince Jacaerys states, truly forgetting the paper he has on his hands.
-The loyalty and fealty from your House and your vassals to our cause is what we ask you-. Princess Daera speaks with calm yet seriousness, with her hands crossed behind her back-. For some days now The Hightowers have been believing they can get away with their treason and treachery-, she raises her brows.
-With The Vale standing by us, they’ll start to understand it will not be that way-. Jacaerys stated.
The princes were well listened by The Maiden of The Vale. She heard every word and thought about every statement. After some quiet moments, she blinked, resting her back against her throne.
Jeyne planned to speak, but went silent when she noticed someone entering the room. The princes turned around too when hearing those steps.
-Maester Mushkun-. Lady Arryn nods towards him, who immediately started to approach towards her, with a paper on his hand-. Can’t you see I am in the middle of an audience with the princes?-, she asks, honestly wondering why he came if he was not called.
-Pardon me, my lady, my greatest excuses, but…-the Maester bows his head quickly towards the princes, who answered with puzzle, curious. Mushkun walks up the stairs towards her seat-. A raven has arrived, my lady…from King’s Landing-. He informed.
Jeyne turned to look at them with open lips. Jace and Daera froze at that moment, getting tense. They looked at each other, clenching their jaws. The lady blinked, slowly taking the paper on one of her hands.
-Thank you, Mushkun-. She mumbles, starting to open the roll. The princes move on their places, unquiet-. Leave-, she ordered to him.
The Maester bowed, and walked down the stairs again. Nervously, and quickly side-eyeing the princes, he walked away, soon outing the room. Jeyne bit her cheeks, and looked down to the paper, reading it silently.
-Fuck-. Daera whispered, and her husband turned to look at her-. Fucking cunts, fucking assholes, fuck!-. She curses under her breath, tightening her fists behind her back. The prince gulps nervously, glancing towards the lady again.
While Lady Arryn reads, she raised her brows and scrunched her lips, giving a huge blink. She continued reading, scoffing lowly. Then, she closed her eyes for some long seconds, tilting her head, and breathing in deeply. Everything under the highly curious gaze of them two.
Jeyne rolled the paper back, softly and delicately. She looks to the young ones, having her jaw clenched, and a thoughtful smile on her lips.
-Dragons do fly faster than ravens, then-. She says.
She let the paper to fall on the floor. The breeze immediately blew it away. Jace parted his lips, and Daera furrowed her brows strongly.
-Thrice have mine own kin sought to replace me-. Lady Jeyne told Prince Jacaerys and Princess Daera, who listened interested-. My cousin Ser Arnold is wont to say that women are too soft to rule-. She says, tilting her head to a side-…I have him in one of my sky cells, if you would like to ask him-. She raised her brows. Daera’s lips lifted up a little, smirking sideways-. Your Prince Daemon used his first wife most cruelly, it is true…-, the Lady confesses in an ashamed sigh.
Daera stopped smirking, pressing her lips and clenching her throat. Jace looked sideways at her, pressing his mouth as well. They both know about the story of Daemon’s first marriage, how he’s said to have coldly murdered Lady Rhea Rhoyce of Riverrun. Daemon’s first daughter does not believe this tale, but this is not the moment to fight it either.
-But not withstanding your mother’s poor taste in consorts, she remains our rightful Queen, and mine own blood besides, an Arryn on her mother’s side-. Lady Jeyne went on saying, with honesty, while nodding-. In this world of men, we women must band together…-, she slowly realizes, looking at her feet for a few seconds.
Daera and Jace stare at her with a hope they could not hide very well, at least not him. All they want is support, reassurance. A safe feeling that they will win, and that everything will be alright.
-The Vale and its knights shall stand with her-. Lady Jeyne Arryn declared with a firm voice, standing up from her throne.
And that’s what they got.
The prince’s chest got filled with air of pride and relieve when they breathed in deeply. Daera opened her lips, starting to smile with glory. The lady wanted to chuckle when she saw the excited look the spouses shared.
-…But I will need Her Grace to grant me one request-. Lady Jeyne Arryn added, raising her brows. They look at her again, curious.
-What might that be?-, prince Jacaerys asked, looking like he would give her anything she’d ask for right now.
-Dragons-. The Lady of The Vale answered, firmly, walking two steps down her throne. Jace and Daera got surprised, listening closely-. I have no fear of armies. Many and more have broken themselves against my Bloody Gate, and The Eyrie is known to be impregnable-. She shrugged, taking another step towards them.
Slowly, Daera closed her lips with softness, understanding now what she was asking for.
-Our enemy has dragons too…-, the princess pointed. The lady smiled to her, raising her brows, and nodding.
-I saw you arriving, flying and soaring up there-. Jeyne says, crossing her hands over her belly. Jace, only for a brief second, glanced at her exposed breasts-. You two have descended on us from the sky, as Queen Visenya once did during the Conquest…and I was powerless to halt you, and I hate feeling powerless-. She narrows her eyes, almost ashamed-. Send me dragonriders-. The lady demanded with firmness.
Daera and Jace both admire her determination, for her people and for herself. Daera thinks of Baela, knowing she’d be perfect for the task. And so, she takes a step front, nearing to the lady.
-We shall see it done, my lady-. Princess Daera agreed, which made a smile to appear on Jeyne’s closed lips-. You shall have dragonriders to defend your land-. She promised.
-Then it is done-. Lady Arryn cheered, raising her brows. She looked past the princess, to the prince, whom she found smiling too. Their eyes connected, and the boy instantly felt nervous, pressing his lips. She keeps smiling, licking her lips-. Another request would be welcomed, wouldn’t it?-, she mumbles.
Daera furrows her brows, looking at her suspiciously,
-May I confess to you, my prince, that a lot I have heard of the Velaryon force, but had never before seen one from up close?-. She tells Jace, taking another step down. Now she’s at their same level, near to Daera, whose fist started to clench behind her back. Jacaerys stares at her, mouth-opened, silly-…At least not one this handsome-, she adds, shrugging.
-Oh-, Jace put his palms together, letting out a laugh. He’s flattered, not because he was called handsome, but because he was called a Velaryon so confidently. He loves that.
-Where is this leading to?-. Daera asked with little patience, with a wide irritated smile on her face, fighting to not curse. That’s the princess Daera the Lady Jeyne has known all her life, so her tone didn’t surprise her.
-I shall make my last petition-. Lady Arryn informs, nearing to the prince with slow marked steps. He gulps, fighting to not look down to her chest. Daera follows her with her eyes on fire-. I want you to fuck me on my throne-. She simply asked to the prince.
Jace immediately turned red, quickly trying to pretend it while breathing in deeply. Within a second Daera gasped, filled of courage.
-‘Am fucking sorry?! What the fu-…?!-, and before she could end her curses, Jacaerys quickly grabbed her hand and pulled it lightly, raising his brows. Daera shuts up, flabbergasted.
Lady Jeyne only watches with calm, forever smiling.
-My lady, um…-Jace licks his lips, breathing in while still holding her hand. Daera breathes fast, nearly killing her with her eyes-. I am afraid that, uh- well…-. He sighs, and then clears his throat under both woman’s glance-. I’m still keeping my first time, my lady, to…someone dear of mine-. Jace’s cheeks turned so red while speaking, not looking at neither of them while doing so.
Lady Arryn raised her brows while she still smiled, surprised. It really shocked her to know that princess Daera -the most lustful princess of the Seven Kingdoms- hasn’t still bedded her one-year husband. Daera, on the other hand, is speechless. Is this truth? Is Jace keeping his deflowerment…for and to her?
-Well, who am I to judge?-. Lady Jeyne sighs, shrugging. Jace gulps, while Daera stares at him at all moments, mouth-opened-. However, then, you can bring me to my climax with your tongue…can’t you not?-. She narrows her cocky eyes, not giving up.
Daera grumbled once again, but her husband quickly pulled her hand again.
-We ask you for a moment, my lady-. Jace asks for, gulping.
-And you shall have it-, she instantly permits.
Jacaerys presses his lips with doubt, looking at Daera, who looked back at him with raged eyes and twisted mouth.
■ ■ ■
-Jace, what the fuck?!-. Daera whispered loudly, as soon as the doors were closed.
-Daera!-, he raises his brows, turning around.
Lady Arryn gave them access to one of the many halls of The Eyrie. This one is huge and with no one in besides them. The windows are tall and open, and in the middle of the room there’s a very large white table of marble, of eighteen chairs.
-How dares she to ask such a thing?!-. Daera hisses with rage, walking into the room. Her fists are tight to the sides of her body-. I should have punched her!-, she growls.
-Let us talk this through, sister-. He recommends, slowly raising his brows while approaching to her.
-Are you not angry?!-, she narrows her eyes and turns to look at him, shrieking.
-Oh I should have punched her because I’m angry?-, he shrugges-. Which I’m not-, he quickly clarifies.
-Well- you should!-. Daera stutters, hitting her own thighs and shaking her head from side to side, troubled.
-I have heard that the Lady of The Vale is this way, Daera-. Jacaerys whispers with honesty, nearing to her. She presses her lips, clenching her jaw while he approaches-. She asked for dragonriders and her- her satisfaction…it seems that we shall give her both-, he says, slowly raising his brows.
-No-. Daera shook her head, gulping-. She’s taking advantage of you, wickedly! You already told her that you haven’t even had your first time, and yet…!-, her complaining was interrupted by him, who cleared his throat with shame when hearing her saying it.
-I am not Luke, Daera-. Jacaerys interrupter her within a whisper. She was left mouth-opened, realizing that she was doing it again-. I am a man-. He states, sure.
Daera closes her mouth, and gulps. Slowly, she looks at him, from feet to toe, seeing his tall height compared to hers, his strong jaw, his broad shoulders. He’s right, she sighs, he is a man.
That's something she remembered most vividly when she remembered that thing they did in King's Landing. When planning on making Alyssa to pass as his daughter, she took him to her bed and…there, she didn’t expect to feel that heat that took over all of her body while seducing him.
She remembers his sharp whines and how big and hulking his cock was, and that was below his clothes. She remembers how it felt to have it poking strongly against her core, and she remembers too how he had to hurry to the washroom to clean himself after they were done, for he cum so hard and abundant.
Looking at his brown eyes, Daera gulps, realizing that she doesn’t want Jeyne Arryn’s cunt to be the first that he ever tastes. That can’t be his first one!
But, is it Jeyne Arryn’s cunt the problem? Does Daera care because its Jeyne Arryn’s cunt, or because is a cunt that…is not her own? Does she want to be Jace’s first time, is that it? Is it that she so much likes his inexperience? Is that she wants it for herself?
The spouses stare at each other, silently. Jace has realized how her brows are now furrowed, and her throat afflicted.
-The faster we finish here, the faster we will be leaving to Winterfell-. The brown-haired prince points with a soft whisper, lightly raising his eyebrows.
Daera’s trembling lips closed harshly when she neared her chin to her shoulder, looking up at him with eyes of doubt and seriousness. He stares at her for many silent seconds, reading her face. He took a step closer.
-I can accept that, as my sister, you don’t want me to do it-. Jace whispers softly, lightly raising his brows. Daera remains silent, staring at him-. But, if it is as my sacred wife…-, he takes a step closer, and in that moment her lips parted-…then speak it now, Daera-. The prince asks with a pleading tone, weakly, curving his frown, and looking at her from up closely.
Daera breathes slowly, looking at the nerves and desire on Jacaerys’ eyes. It’s so obvious, almost touchable. What the princess isn’t being aware of is that her eyes are showing the very same emotion, and he was noticing it with no restriction.
Those nerves on his eyes kill her, turns her on. Fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck Jace. Fuck life. Fuck it.
-As your fucking wife, I want you to do it good-. Daera raised her brows, approaching even nearer.
In that moment, Jace froze up, opening his brown eyes hugely. She tilts her head to a side, gulping, and glancing at his neck for two seconds.
-You have no idea on how to do it, do you?-. She whispers, taking another step towards him. Jace breathes heavily, playing with his fingers at the sides of his body, looking down at her feet. He silently shook his head-. Say it-, she ordered.
-I have no idea on how to do it-, he answered within a whisper, blinking slowly. He wanted to hold a part of her body, any part, but didn’t have the courage to do it by himself.
-Ow, Jace…-she hummed, closing her eyes while breathing in. He licks his lips, and then gulps-. The magic is in one’s tongue-. Daera says with her brows up-. You lick everything that you find yourself with-. She speaks with a sweet voice. She placed a finger under his chin and made him to look up, to look at her.
Jacaerys felt dizzy -in the best of ways- when looking at her dilatated purple eyes, those that right now are so fixated on him. Holy gods, he thinks, does she desire me?
-There’s a button in the middle of a lady’s cunt, you know?-. The princess whispers, narrowing her eyes. In that moment he trembled, closing his mouth harshly-. When using your mouth down there, you must suck that button, as many times as you can, as hardly as you can. As if you were starving you must suck, lick and kiss-. Daera speaks with passion. At the same time, she’s feeling a heat burning in her own button.
-Gods-, he let a great sigh out, trembling. She bit her lips briefly when he did so, mesmerized by his obvious innocence, curiosity and horniness. He’s alluring.
Daera suck her inferior lip, looking at his mouth. She hums, raising a hand, and directing it towards there. Jacaerys trembled when her thumb pulled his inferior lip down. He whined when she rubbed the tip of a finger in there.
-Oh, look at that…-Daera hums, looking at her finger, seeing the heavy saliva she got out of Jace’s mouth. His shoulders come up and down with his fast breathing-…it looks like you’re ready-, she mumbled, flirty.
Screw it.
-Oh, come on-. Daera grunted, grabbing his cloth’s neck from a moment to another and pulling him with her when she started to walk backwards. Jace stutters, quickly following her like an idiot-. Come on, come on, come on-. She speaks fastly as she climbed to the top of the table, seating on it with quickness.
Daera grabbed her skirt, and started to pull it up. Placing his open palms at the side of her body, in the table, Jace breathes fast and desperately, and went speechless when seeing her legs and thighs starting to be shown, just for him to see.
-Seven hells-. He whined, like a pup, stumbling on his own feet even though he was just standing.
-Down, fucking hells-, while mumbling a cursing, The Rogue Princess places an open hand on his head and pushed him down. So weak and mesmerized, Jace was taken down with easiness.
Prince Jacaerys fell to his knees, and the hand on his head pushed him so his nose would clash with the bare skins of her legs. The prince whined weakly, curving his brows and opening his lips, smelling the sweet aroma of hers. She smells like lavender. ´
Completely stunned, Jace babbles against her skin, closing his eyes. Daera bits her lips, opening her legs slowly. Very timidly, he places a kiss on one of her knees, tasting its sweetness. It made him to whine, yet again, and to kiss it again.
-See it-, he heard a low whisper from his wife.
When Jace opened his eyes again, he was left speechless. He is face to face with some kind of marvel, some kind of a flower-shaped thing. It is so beautiful, it is so purple, it is…oh gods, it is wet.
Daera smiled, she did it bigly when seeing Jace’s reaction seeing a cunt for the first time. His rection is all hers, and she adores it. The princess hums, biting her lips for a moment.
-You honor me so much, Daera-. He whispered, nearly with no voice. He hears her giggle. He wanted to look up, but was too mesmerized on the sight-. But whe- where are your undergarments?-, he mumbles, silly.
-Irrelevant-, she cocked her head.
He felt a push on his head from the hand of it. The prince hums weakly, tilting his head to a side, admiring the pretty little thing he was staring to. When recalling the points Daera gave him before, he started to get nearer, breathing fastly.
When his breathing clashes with the wetness of her cunt, Daera straightened her back and breathed in deeply, anxious. She looks down, pushing him again. Jacaerys placed his hands on the floor, where he as kneeled, and opened his mouth.
After almost a year of being married, prince Jacaerys Velaryon for the first time tasted his wife’s, Daera Targaryen, savor. In that moment, they both knew it would never be the same again. In that moment, he discovered the taste of heavens.
It’s deliciously salty.
-Fuck!-, Daera sighed deeply when feeling the first lick from him.
Jacaerys hummed so sharply, rolling his eyes blank with bemusement when feeling the soft flesh under his tongue. He started to move it, so slowly, fearing of breaking something -the poor boy-. Jace licks from side to side, feeling the button going along his tongue.
He looks up while doing it, terribly nervous, but not wanting to stop nevertheless. She finds Daera biting her lips and her hips trembling while she looks back at him. He whines with weakness, scratching the floor with his nails while he directs his tongue to all places possible, as she told him before.
Daera loves power. She’s loving to see Jace nervous of pleasing her, he’s trying so hard and, fuck, so good. She had almost forgotten that the prince is gifted. He learns everything that is teach to him. And he learns fast.
-That’s it-. The princess whispers, caressing his brown mane-. Breath, breath Jace-. She pulls his head, driving him away. Jacaerys breathes fastly and deeply, looking at her with silly eyes and hungry mouth, almost smiling-. Fuck, you son of a bitch-. She mumbled, amused herself, never having imagined that he would look so good and slutty while doing this.
-Am I doing it alright?-, he questions with a fasted breath.
She didn’t answer, on purpose, and without notice pulled his mouth back to her cunt. For no one’s surprise, he actually cheered this, and quickly began to lick all of her womanhood again. She bit her lips, chuckling growly, and making circles with her hips, dancing against his mouth.
He did what was told. In one moment, he prisoned the button on his lips, and sucked it deeply against his cheeks. That was the first time that Daera moaned, doing it loudly and with a smile, jumping on the table. When she did, he whined loudly as well, closing his eyes when feeling tears gathering in it.
-Fuck, fuck, Jac- ow!-.Daera howls with an open smile. He’s licking and tasting everything, always poking with his big nose on her sensible flesh-. Fuck!-. She growls, pushing his head harder.
The young man between her opened legs grunts, clashing his hands against the table and scratching the marble to the sides of her body, going deeper on her cunt. When she saw his hands, she was quick to take them, and to make them clash against her own thighs, grunting too.
When Jace realized he had the permission to touch her skin besides her cunt, he squeezed her thighs tightly, pressing them so hard, almost nailing his nails on them. Daera trembled under his touch, opening her mouth wide. She moaned when seeing his big manly hands squeezing her legs as if they’re made out of sand.
The princess moans, and from a moment to another she climbed completely up the table. The prince followed like a hungry hound, quickly getting on the table too, letting his shoes to fall on the floor. He whines with great desire, crawling with his hands and knees while she crawled back with her elbows and feet, looking at him with a smile.
-Come, come-. She babbles with quickness, taking his hair again, and pulling him towards the middle of her open legs.
Jacaerys groaned sharply, taking her thighs again and now pushing them, opening her legs wider. The princess moaned with a surprised smile, making a fist that pulled his brown hair with force. He whines so sharply, with pain and pleasure, licking the dripping cunt of his wife, which is getting every time more wet, damping all of his mouth and cheeks.
“Is this heaven?”, the prince dared to think. “How did I live eight and ten years without knowing about this marvel? Perhaps I was not living at all”
Feeling all of her insides trembling, Daera closed her legs and trapped Jace’s head in the middle of them. He felt blessed, and never stopped licking her tasty womanhood. She hums two times, and opens her legs again, breathing fastly.
-See, see-. Speaking with no breaths, she makes him to look at her, pulling him away. He licks his wet lips, looking at her eyes-. Give me your hand-. She whispers, sitting on.
-My hand?-, he babbles, licking his lips again.
Daera takes his right hand, for he’s right-handed. Her own hand made two of his five fingers to go down, the two of the middle. That confused him. Why is she making him do this strange sign?
-Is this…-Jace looks at his hand. Only his thumb, index and pinky finger are up-…is this some signal?-, he wonders.
-It is to finger me-. The Rogue Princess answered with a whisper filled of lust and fun, batting her lashes. He parts his lips, speechless-. Do you want to learn?-, she questions.
-Yes-, he answered without thinking about it.
Daera chuckles, taking his hand and guiding him. Jace gasps lightly when he sees her directing those two fingers of the middle towards her cunt, under her button. The prince gets worried, and then he nearly yelled when seeing those finger just disappearing into her womanhood.
-Ow, fuck!-. But he didn’t yell, because she seemed to like it so much. He saw how she gasped and smile, and began to move his hand with hers, making them fingers to come in and out.
-Oh my gods, heavens-. He whispers, shocked, feeling the wet insides of her. He gasps, looking at the enjoyment on her face. Jace breathed fast, starting to make those moves by his own, taking his fingers in, and then out.
-Yes-, she shrieks, making her hips to dance in circles. He blinks bigly, moaning lowly when hearing the sound it was making-. Yes, yes, oww fuc- yes Jace-. Daera grunts, biting her lips-. Faster-, she whispers.
-What?-, he fears.
-Stronger!-, she demanded.
The prince lifts a side of his lips, bemused, and started to make his fingers to go faster. That made the princess to moan quicker, and louder. Breathing fast, he also made his fingers to clash deeper on her interior, until reaching the end of it. Daera shrieks, as a dragon, pushing his head towards her.
Their foreheads met. They breath fast over the other’s face, looking at each other’s eyes. Daera’s are half closed, but yet are looking at him in the middle of her moans. That image will remain with the prince Jacaerys until his last day.
-Does- does it hurt?-. He asked, fearful and a little doubtful.
-Not at all, brother-. She moans, and he whined, biting his lips and going faster-. Yes, yes, fuck yes, Jace!-. She cries with great pleasure, humping on his fingers.
Taking a great liking to it, Jacaerys started to do it as fastly as he could, rapidly going in and out with his fingers while he whines. Daera moaned, lying her back again in the table, and twitching as if she was on fire.
Jace had the greatest of ideas. He returned his mouth to her cunt, but didn’t apart his fingers from it. So, the princess now has the man’s round tongue and bulky fingers doing marvels to her wet womanhood, almost taking her to the skies above The Eyrie.
-Yes, yes! Holy fuck- fucks, Jacaerys!-. Daera cursed and laughed towards the ceiling, pulling his hair with no mercy, completely messing it up.
Breathless and decided, with tears on his brown eyes, Jace sucked on the button with softness, licking at the same time that he sweetly pushed his fingers inside of her.
And with this, Daera finished fairly. He admired how the princess suddenly clenched her legs and twitched in the table, moaning and breathing as if there was no air around her. She pulled his hair so strongly, and grabbed one of her breasts with violence, gripping it.
-Daera-. He whispers, breathless as well, looking at her all.
-Ow, fuck. Goodness…-, she sighs with her eyes closed. She licked her lips, and slowly opened her legs again-. Give it little kisses, Jace-. She orders. The prince was obedient, nearing his lips to the womanhood again, blessing it with soft kisses-…It does marvels when a lady finish-, she murmured with a smile, caressing his brown mane.
While pampering it with tender kisses, Jacaerys looks up to her. The princess smiled silly at him, biting her lips while pampering his hair.
-Oh…-Jace grunted-. I want to do it again-, he confesses, ready to start to lick again.
-Jace-, she quickly stopped him, closing her legs. The prince seemed so disappointed, and hungry, leaving his lips open-. You, um…-she caresses his brown hair-…you’re an expert already, I’m afraid…-the princess guaranteed, raising her brows.
When hearing so, the brown-eyed Velaryon prince smiled, with his heart beating fast and his face all wet. She smiled back at him, kind of amused, adoring his enthusiasm. He never lacks it.
-Then I shall ask you for the last time…-Jace murmurs, slowly coming down of the table. Still lying on it, Daera follows him with her clear eyes-. May I-
-Go ahead-. She nodded before he’d finish his sentence. Jacaerys presses his lips, sighing through his nose while looking and her-. As soon as you’re done, we’re off-. She closes her eyes, resting her head on the table. She hard silence-. Go, now!-. The princess ordered with a funny playful voice.
-Alright-, Jacaerys sighed, turning around, and walking away from the table.
After closing the doors behind him, the prince felt his knees shaking. He covers his own mouth and closes his eyes, moaning as lowly as he could. With a hand, he touches his pants, feeling how hard his cock is. It has been like that even before seeing his wife’s womanhood.
Knowing that there is no time to start thinking about what just happened, Jacaerys quickly directed himself to the High Hall of The Eyrie, standing firmly. And, when he arrived, Lady Jeyne Arryn turned her head to look at him, from her seat.
-My prince-, she raises her brows and smiles when seeing him arriving.
-My lady-, he nods, heading towards the throne with quickness. She parts her lips, tilting her head.
In less than ten seconds, she had prince Jacaerys kneeled in front of her, ready to satisfy her. Jeyne became almost nervous, raising her skirt with all the quickness of the Seven Kingdoms, easily giving herself to him.
Prince Jacaerys closed his eyes, and pretended this was Daera again. Lady Jeyne left out a moan within a second.
Meanwhile, Daera had stayed in the table of marble, lying on it while the breeze comes through the big windows of the lonely hall. Blinkless, she looks up, staring at the chandelier that hangs above of her.
Shocked, she gulps, lost in her mind.
She has just been unfaithful to Aemond. She cheated…
“No no no no, I didn’t!”, Daera quickly comes to her own defense, gulping. Come on, come oooon! It wasn’t cheating. “It was for the cause!”, she convinces herself, “Lady Jeyne Arryn is a woman of specific desires, that shall have them accomplished if they want her to do something” Daera knows this, Daera knows this woman. This was necessary!
She didn’t cheat on Aemond as much as she didn’t either back on King’s Landing, when she made Jace cum on his pants. It was for a…cause…as well. “Everything has been justified”, she swears.
But, being the truth unbeknownst to Daera's wish of feeling innocent, she lusted for Jace, during those prior moments. A huge part of her wishes to denies it, and does it. However, one can't never be too alone to not hear oneself. The Rogue Princess knows she desired her fake husband.
Oh, she wanted him. She wanted for them to do it. She felt so good when she grabbed his hair and violently made him to kneel on the floor to face her cooch. It felt so good to feel his breathing on her flesh, to have his tongue on her flower. It felt good, hells, didn’t it?
…Why?
With her brows curved, Daera gulps and blinks with shame, looking at the ceiling of the hall. Why did I -she started to wonder- if am a married woman, enjoy to have another’s mouth on my femininity?
Is it because of how betrayed she feels by Aemond? Did a part of her want to…betray him back? Is that it? This is her first possible answer.
In the last few days -which have passed too quick for her liking- her true husband has made sure to do evil doings, to act as the devil himself. Aemond had obliged her to abort her baby. He conspired against the crown, when his father's corpse had not even cooled, along his mother and allies. He placed Aegon in the throne, stealing Rhaenyra and Jace’s birthright. He had Rhaenys locked right below his apartments, probably left to starve if she didn't declare for Aegon, and he didn’t care.
Daera has been hurted by him time by time, every time worst, and yet she has showed incredible mercy from her heart, having defended him and think him good, despite his actions. However, perhaps a part of her did want to punish him for them. That part, it seems, is the very one that was incessantly burning for prince Jacaerys moments ago.
So, following this logic: she wanted to betray him too then, to be about. But here is where the logic falls: to what end? How is Aemond even supposed to know he has been betrayed by his wife? What, will she fly to King’s Landing midst war and shovel it to her face? Is Jace going to tell him? Hells no! There’s no way this “desire of justice” would be fulfilled, because Aemond won’t feel the same way as her, because he wouldn’t know it.
This takes us to her second possible answer, which she translated more into a question.
Is this her nature? To run to another man’s arms when things with him are bad? Another man’s tongue, better said. Is…is Daera the same girl she was before loving Aemond? Carefree and from bed to bed? She had never been with someone into a love relationship until she got into one with Aemond. He may not be her first lover but he’s indeed her first love.
Could it be that, now that she feels like she’s losing him, she knows she has the right to desire others?
Daera immediately gasped before her thoughts, feeling a great pain on her chest.
NO! She is not like that, she knows it! “I am not some harlot and I am not losing Aemond!”, she convinces herself of. No one can gainsay her. She made herself to erase every prior thought she had, and declared the truth answer to what happened with Jace:
It was for the cause.
The princess furrows her brows lightly when she started to hear moans from outside the hall, traveling through the hallways. They were female and very indecent, coming from the High Hall of the castle.
Daera tsks her tongue, rolling her eyes with a very bitchy face.
Oh, for the fuck’s sake! The moans started to get louder and louder, until the doors of the hall were almost trembling. Daera grunted with annoyance and had to cover up her ears, cursing in High Valyrian.
“I at least moan with grace”, the princess thinks, “this one does like a goat”.
■ ■ ■
Jeyne Arryn, Lady and Maiden of The Vale, kneel on the floor with grace and delicacy. She bowed her head and softly opened her arms to the sides of her body, having a light smile on her lips.
Jacaerys and Daera stand in front of her, side to side, looking down at her with prideful eyes. The princes start to look around when noticing all the knights of the surrounding kneeling as well. The Maester did too, and some servants in presence did the same.
Daera smirks, pressing her lips, and nodding at them.
Lady Jeyne raised her head, looking up to them with her glowing blue eyes. She looked at the prince, giving a slow blink. He gulped briefly, nodding at her. And lastly looked at the princess, widening her smile a bit more. Daera looked down at her with easiness but yet a little of taunt, biting her cheeks.
Still on her knees, Lady Arryn opened her mouth.
-The Vale is yours, my princes-. She declared, having faith in them, and in their mother's cause.
Jacaerys parted her lips, and Daera smirked with hers, deeply breathing in. She turns her head, and he did so as well, blinking multiple times with excitement.
The princes stared at each other with pride, and a big feeling of achievement.
■ ■ ■
Soon, Daera and Jace were arriving back to the woods. Jeyne became a little disappointed when learned that the princes weren’t staying the night, but was glad to see them off, knowing they had others pressing business. She gifted them two baskets of bread, cheese, ham and grapes. And a generous bottle of wine, for their troubles.
When feeling their riders close, both Kalistrox and Vermax lifted up their heads, glancing through the trees. And there they saw them, arriving while laughing between them. The golden dragon purred with a sweet hurry, shaking his neck.
The princess looked up when she heard them, and instantly laughed harder.
-Hey!-. She raises her eyebrows and scrunches her nose, almost running towards him. Jacaerys sided a smile, nearing to his dragon as well-. My love-, she whispers, caressing his neck’s scales while he touched a cheek against one of hers, purring.
-How did you behave?-. The prince asks funnily, scratching Vermax’s chin, making him to growl with softness.
Daera hums while caressing Kalistrox’s cheek, seeing his golden eyes looking around constantly, narrowing them while groaning.
-They don’t like the woods-. The princess points out, sighing. Jace does so as well, slowly walking away from his dragon after carrying one of the baskets on his saddle. When noticing he wanted to talk, she raised a hand towards her own dragon, and also stepped away from him. Kalistrox purrs lowly, seeing her go-. Could you imagine how dangerous it would be to raise dragons in a forest?-, she wonders, crossing her arms.
-A catastrophe-, he agrees, nearing to her with calm steps. The sun still lights above them, passing through the green leaves of around-. That’s why there’s sand in the Dragonpit-. He recalls with a smile, raising his brows.
-Ah-, she lets a laugh out, nodding. They laughed together.
While the breeze caressed their skin, clothes and manes, the spouses look at each other for some moments of silence. All they could hear was the wind, and their dragons’ breaths. She smiles a little, taking air in.
-How was it?-, she questions. The subject of the question was obvious, for the prince immediately sighed through his nose, and looked around with nerves.
-She is definitely sort of…a savage soul…-, he narrowed his eyes while his cheeks started to burn red. Daera laughed with taunt, nodding. Chuckling lowly, he looks at his feet and the grass under them, stepping on it. Seconds then, he looks up, finding her eyes-…Thank you for teaching me-, he murmured.
Daera’s purple eyes softened, and a light smirk crossed her lips while looking at him. The part of her that we were speaking of before started to get awaken again, for she briefly felt that desire again.
When she became aware of it, she gulped and smiled, pressing her lips and taking a step back while caressing an arm of his with gentleness.
-I’m afraid they will like the North far less-, she changed the subject back to the former one, raising her brows and cocking her head towards the dragons-. Jacaerys looked at her with softness, pressing his mouth too.
-Then we shall part now-. He proposed, lifting his chin-. So, they don’t last longer in it-, he says.
-Ah, we agree-. She winked an eye on him, making him to laugh briefly. Daera chuckles, starting to walk backwards-. Go on-, she cocks her head and he starts heading to his dragon as well-. We’re halfway home now, can you believe it?-. She chuckles.
-I can-. Jacaerys laughs with pride, jumping onto his saddle.
After accommodating the basket with her luggage, Daera took seat on her saddle, seating on it with a playful smirk while looking ta him. Holding his ropes, Jacaerys smiled back at her, biting the inner of his cheeks.
Before leaving The Eyrie, the princes asked Lady Jeyne for ink, paper and a raven. As The Rogue Princess and the Heir to The Iron Throne took the skies again with their dragons, a raven black as night left The Vale towards south, flying to Dragonstone, to deliver the Blacks word of they having wined The Kingdom of Mountain and Vale to their side.
And so, having the confidence that good news will arrive to their family, Jace and Daera rose up with their dragons together, again, flying as one, at the same altitude and speed, ruling the clouds and sun with their power.
They didn’t know bad news were almost to their way to Dragonstone too.
■ ■ ■
Kalistrox and Vermax fly low, making the breeze that reach them a little softer and kinder. Golden and green dragon both soar over a small-sized yet deep clean lake, which waters are almost like glass; it is clean, calm and transparent.
Leaning to a side, seated on her saddle, princess Daera turned her head and looked down, having a sight of the fishes than swims under the water, almost at the same speed they fly to. The princess giggled with sweetness, wrinkling her eyes.
Pines and all kinds of trees seem to be never-ending in The Vale. They have been flying for nearly three hours, and that green sight of leaves has been under them during all of them. This is not called The Kingdom of Mountain and Vale for nothing.
With a smirk on his lips, prince Jacaerys looks forwards while narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t find the river’s end, which made him to giggle with excitement, now wanting to follow the water’s way until reaching its last drop.
Having that goal in mind, he turns to look at his right. There, in the distance, Daera was smiling while looking at the water. Soon enough, she felt his stare, and seated back straight on her saddle to stare back at him.
They shared a look, and smiled to each other with warmth.
They looked at each other until a peculiar sound came to their ears: screams. Though they were not screams of fright, nor of hatred or bravery. They were screams of awe. Screams from…children.
Daera blinked with hope, and looked down again. By flying so low, her eyes easily found a group of kids, five of them, all yelling towards the sky with surprise and excitement, shocked by the magnificent view above of them.
By the river’s bank, the children jumped on their places and waved their hands towards The Golden Ray and Vermax, mesmerized by how the sun was shining on their scales and how the former’s wings were so large that the sun was no longer reaching their smiling cheeks.
As her dragon kept flying, undisturbed by those happy shrieks and salutes, princess Daera blinked with open eyes while a smile started to grow in her lips. Moments then, she grunted a laugh and pulled her saddle, looking down to the ground. Kalistrox immediately obeyed her, growling lowly, and turning around his huge body.
Curious, and smiling as well, Jacaerys pulled the ropes of his dragon too, and made him to turn. They followed, by far, with curiosity.
The children walk backwards with open mouths and shocked eyes, loosen up their shoulders and whole bodies when they see the golden dragon was heading right towards them. Kalistrox flapped his wings with slowness, calculating his landing. Meanwhile, on his back, Daera shushed him and caressed his scales.
Seconds then, The Golden Ray landed on the very river, fitting only less than half of his body, due to its shortness. The lake, deep enough, covered the dragon up to before what would be his knees. Kalistrox purred. Liking the feeling of mud and water on his huge paws and claws.
The five kids blinked with awe, mouth-opened, seeing how a brown-skinned lady of white long curly hair and purple eyes smiled at them from the back of the dragon, who opened one of his wings and extended it until reaching ground. The children walked three steps back, feeling the beast’s golden eyes always staring at them.
-Hello!-, a sweet voice came out of that woman’s mouth-. Hi to everyone!-. She chuckles, starting to walk on the wing her dragon has just placed for her.
-Ah! You’ll hurt him!-. One of the kids, a small brown-skinned girl -of perhaps five- gasped with worriness when seeing her stepping on the wing. Daera raised her brows towards her.
-Ouh no, I won’t-. The princess assures her, unconsciously walking slower-. See? I’m not!-. She laughs, leaning to a side to caress Kalistrox’s wing. The children hear his purr, and it made that little girl to chuckle with amusement.
Daera’s feet touched still ground, arriving in front of the children, separated by a modest distance. They looked at her with eyes filled of curiosity, and she looked back at them with gentleness, almost capable of touching their sweet enthusiasm and innocence.
-He is very strong-. The princess comments, raising her brows and pointing towards the golden dragon, whom they stared at with marvel, giggling a little.
-What is his name?-, one of the boys asked. He’s white as milk, and of brown eyes.
-His name is Kalistrox-, Daera answered with pride and softness.
-And what is yous?-, another of the girls, this one if pale skin, asks with curiosity.
The brown-skinned princess smiles kindly, looking at the five of them with easiness.
-My name is Daera-. She answered, starting to walk towards them, who smiled at her-. Now, I wish to know what are yours-. Her brows raised funnily, while her lips smiled warmly as the children approached to her.
As the day is almost reaching its end and welcoming night, the skies are dyed by a lovely color orange, and the clouds shaped like hearts and arrows -if we have some imagination-. The dusk at presence is a beautiful one, blessing those underneath it, in that river.
Prince Jacaerys landed Vermax on the other side of the lake, on firm ground. His young dragon purrs with calmness, thanking there was not a tree near enough to bother his comfort. Behind his green scaled tail, however, pines are plenty.
Jace came down of his dragon with calmness, standing on the grass with a relaxed posture. He sighed through his nose, caressing Vermax’s neck while looking across the river, looking at her.
Daera has taken seat on a rock that works well enough as a chair. Her legs are crossed, and on there the littlest girl is seated, the white one of blue eyes, whose name is Jocelyn.
There’s Jocelyn, the youngest one, of four. There’s Isaiah, of six, chestnut of brown eyes. There’s Marli, the brown girl, and her twin brother, Kezzie, of five.
-And where did you hear that?-, Daera scrunches her nose and smiles, looking at the girl on her knees, who had just told her that she knows dragons are from the moon.
-My mother told me-, the girl chuckled with pride.
Daera giggled, showing all of her teeth. She can’t help but to think of her Alyssa and her Visenya; two babes she never got to meet. She wonders if they would have been as sweet as this one, Jocelyn, is.
The princess, with no bother at all, has opened her ears to the children, hearing all the myths, tales and theories they have hard about dragons. This is the first time any of them have ever seen one, and they excited; she’s delighted to listen.
While seeing her laugh, Jacaerys walks from the other side with a thoughtful smile. With calmness, he’s walking to the other side, heading to a path of stones that help to cross the river by foot.
-Would you like some sweets, children?-. The princess asks with a curious smile, immediately receiving cheering and positives answers from the children, who quickly said yes-. You shall have them then-, she laughs, making a sign with two fingers towards Kalistrox.
The golden dragon growls lowly, and starts to extend his neck towards her with slowness. The children squealed with excitement, seeing how Kalistrox’s head was feet above of them when he neared his body to his rider.
-Seven heavens-, Kezzie whispered with awe.
Princess Daera laughs lightly, heading a hand towards the luggage packed near his neck. She opened a small pocket of one of the bags, and took a handful of honey sweets.
-Here you have-, she offers them to them, who instantly cheered and took al the mints, tasting their sweetness with happy smiles.
-Thank you!-, the little Jocelyn smiles as she tastes her sweet.
-You are very welcome, sweetling-. Daera chuckles, caressing the girl’s brown hair with softness.
Kalistrox started to growl from the deepness of his throat, staring forward with menace. Hearing him, Daera quickly turns her head towards the wood, parting her lips.
-Behind me-, she is quick to order, and the children were quick to obey, though they did it with confusion.
Agitated sounds come from the woods, and moments then a handful of armored knights came out from there, galloping with swiftness and distress, looking alerted. Daera pressed her lips, and Kalistrox immediately growled, lifting his head higher while looking down at them with fire on his eyes.
Jocelyn smiled to them.
-Daera-. Jace shot out running immediately towards there, feeling his heart twitching when looking at the armed men arriving.
The knights had come out of the woods with fierce, but quickly trembled when looking to the beast standing on the river, and raising to look at them with even more fierceness and menace. All the men trembled, and two fainted within the second, not having expected the sight of The Golden Ray when riding out of the forest.
-Ouh, well-. Daera tsks her tongue when seeing those two fainted on the floor. She sees the other men stuttering and trembling, forever looking at her beast. She holds Jocelyn tighter to her chest, not knowing who this people were-. Lykiri…-, the princess ordered to her dragon, who growled with fury, nevertheless.
-Daera!-, Jace reaches her, at last, standing right by her side, shielding the children as well, and looking at the knights with seriousness-. Make thy selves known!-. He ordered with firmness, while his wife just looked at them from feet to toe with interest.
-Hya!-
-Quick!-
Two screams are heard from the woods. Jace stands tensely, while Daera remains seated on that stone, rocking Jocelyn on her knees, simply studying the people and the situation itself. Her golden dragon, as fierce as always, studies nothing, and only waits for a command of hers. ´
Soon enough, two more men and their horses come out of the woods, but these are not knights as the other are. They wear fine clothes, fine boots, fine gloves, and a fine perfume. They’re lords, of course.
And out of those two faces, the princess Daera recognized one.
When the lords arrive, with worried expressions, they see Isaiah, Kezzie and Marli shielded by a brown-haired young man, and Jocelyn seated on a woman’s knees. A woman of brown skin, purple eyes and white curls that looked at them with serenity and curiosity, blinking one time.
One of the two lords is slim, chestnut, and eyes as brown as Isaiah’s. Aye, she kens who this man is. She met him years ago, on a trip she did with her grandmother, Rhaenys, to Lannisport. This is Leowyn Corbray, lord of Heart’s Home, a vassal house holding fealty to House Arryn of the Eyrie.
-Lord Corbray-, the white-haired woman greeted, siding a smirk.
-Princess Daera-. Gasping, the lord quickly bowed his head, full of respect. When hearing the girl’s name, and obviously having seen her looks, the other lord opened his mouth with surprise, now knowing who she was-. It is an honor, princess, to…make your acquaintance, once again-. He nods, looking at her again.
-It is indeed-. She leaned her head to a side, caressing Jocelyn’s hair-. This is my husband, prince Jacaerys Velaryon-. She presented him with a nod, placing a hand on his arm.
-An honor, my prince-. Lord Corbray bowed his head, as did the other one. Jace nods towards them with the same respect, holding his hands behind his back-. My princes, may I present to you…Lord Desmond Manderly, of White Harbor-. He speaks with manner, pointing at him.
-My princes, it is a high honor to meet you both-. Lord Manderly closed his eyes and bowed his head to them.
Daera and Jace looked at each other within a second with their lips parted when hearing where this lord is from. The North. White Harbor, the main seaport of the north. House Manderly, a vassal house holding fealty to House Stark of Winterfell…just where they’re heading.
-Lord Manderly, the honor is ours-. Prince Jacaerys says with a gentle nod, looking at him, and then at his wife for a second.
-It is-, she nods as well. Everyone keeps constantly eyeing Kalistrox, both marveled and terrified of his size and fiery eyes. He had retreated a bit since his rider told him to, but yet he doesn’t fail to shake all of their spirits, and knees-. We’re at Heart’s Home then, I take-. She guesses.
-We are, princess-. Lord Corbray answered.
-Ah-, the girl nods-. Why so far from home, Lord Manderly? If I may ask-. Daera questions with curiosity, narrowing her eyes for a moment.
-Lord Manderly has come to see to the arrangements of a settlement between our Houses-. Lord Corbray was the one to answer with politeness, making the princes to look at him with interest. He eyed Isaiah and Jocelyn for a second-. You see, we are to betrothe our youngest children-. He explained, raising his brows.
-Ah…-, Daera narrowed her eyes, while Jacaerys nodded-. Do not tell. This is your child?-. She questions, placing a hand on Isaiah’s head, who chuckled while looking at Lord Corbray, who smiled briefly.
-He is, princess-. He nodded, and then the boy ran to him, giggling. Daera formed a little smiled, which she chewed and erased, keeping a calm expression.
-Father!-. Copying his friend, Jocelyn jumped down from Daera’s knees, and ran towards the lords with an open smile, soon hugging Lord Manderly’s right leg. Daera raised her brows briefly, as did Jace, now understanding.
-And whose children might you be?-. Jacaerys mumbles with interest, turning to look at the brown-skinned twins, who looked at him with shyness.
-They are my cousin’s children, my princes-. Lord Corbray answered, then looking at Kezzie and Marly-. Your mother has been looking for you, twins-. He reproached, raising his brows. They just shrugged and laughed.
Daera breathes in and then sighs, quietly standing up from that stone, taking Jace’s side. She looks at the knights for some moments, noticing they were eyeing her as well. She found a smitten smirk behind one of those helmets, which made her to scoff.
-And you, my princes?-. Lord Manderly, with eyes as cold as the very White Harbor, look curiously at them-. Enjoying the warmth of The Vale as well?-, he wonders.
The princes both pressed their lips. They looked at each other, sideways, for two silent seconds. After them, Lord Corbray spoke.
-Though no raven has arrived to Heart’s Home from the capital, my eldest son has, this morning. He brought with him…grieving news, my princes-. Lord Corbray speaks with glum and respect, looking down. Jacaerys and Daera remain serious, staring at them-. We lament the death of our King…Viserys-, he said.
The wedded princes gulped and pressed their lips. They saw how Manderly made a similar expression to Lord Corbray’s, one of pity. Daera breathed in profoundly, looking around to the knights, the kids, the winds and the sun.
-I propose we find a more fitting place to treat such…troubling matters-. The princess said with determination, raising her brows towards the lords. By her side, her husband gulped, thinking of her passed grandsire, and the impostor that has taken his throne.
-We shall-. Lord Corbray was quick to agree, firmly nodding-. Please-, he pointed the way for the Valyrian princes.
■ ■ ■
Heart’s Home posses a castle of great height and beauty. It is of white marble, as most of the castles in The Vale. It is located on a mountain, of course, just behind the same woods of the river from before.
Turns out that Jocelyn, Lord Manderly’s youngest daughter, and her newly-betrothed, Isaiah, Lord Corbray’s youngest son, decided to gone out to play with their friends without notifying anyone. As soon as their parents became aware of their “disappearance”, they alerted the guards, who immediately went out to look for them.
As we saw before, the guards did find the children, only that they were not alone. It came of surprise to everyone to have the princes Daera and Jacaerys on Heart’s Home, with their dragons, calmly chilling by the side of the river, and playing with the young lords and ladies.
Now, after being formally welcomed in the Great Hall of Heart’s Home, the princes were escorted to another hall, a big one with big three windows, a wooden table of six chairs, and multiple paints of the castle and Vale itself. Only princess Daera, prince Jacaerys, Lord Corbray and Lord Manderly entered the room, besides two guards that joined them.
The spouses are seated side to side, and in front of them, the lords are too. In front of all of them, a warm nice supper is served, though none has eaten yet. The guards stand in the gates of the room, totally silent, as if they were not there.
Lord Corbray plays with his fingers, having a thoughtful look on his face. Lord Manderly thinks too, slowly blinking. In front of them, Jacaerys and Daera stare at them with quietness and silence, letting them think.
Both lords have just been informed that House Arryn -The Vale’s ruling house- had just swore loyalty to the princes’ mother, the Queen Rhaenyra. A paper lies in the table, being read time after time by the lords. It is Lady Jeyne Arryn’s handwriting, affirming her fealty to House Targaryen and the course of its true line of succession, which belongs to The Blacks.
They’re treating more with Lord Corbray than with Lord Manderly, being this his land. They’re letting him know, of course, that his lady paramount has joined to their cause. Almost obligatory he has to do the same. And, doubtless, he will.
-Dragonriders will be send here, to The Vale, to protect your lands and your families from any attack coming by green hands-. Princess Daera speaks with honesty, raising her brows. Lord Corbray caresses the paper, drawing the letters with his fingers while looking at her.
-Dragons in The Vale?-, he whispered, not hiding his surprise. Lord Manderly blinked with the same feeling, briefly clearing his throat.
-Aye-, the prince nods-. Your joining to our cause will be answered with both protection and gratitude from us-. He assures. He’s slouched, with his elbows on the table. By his side, his wife seats lady-like, with her hands on her legs.
Lord Corbray presses his lips, and looks at the both of them. Those purple Valyrian eyes of the princess stared at him with expectance and quietness. The prince’s brown ones are the same. The lord sits straight, breathing in.
-House Corbray will stand with you-. Lord Corbray dictated with decision. The princess started to side a smile, while prince Jacaerys looked at him with high respect. Lord Desmond listens closely-. Heart’s Home will be by your side, do not doubt it, should it come to war-. He declared, heartfully.
-You honor us, Lord Corbray-. Jace nodded, clenching his jaw.
-The Queen will repay your great disposition, my lord, you can be sure-. Daera smiles with gratitude, blinking calmly. Lord Corbray nodded towards the two of them, keeping a confident expression.
After a few seconds of silence, both princes directed their eyes towards the same person. Lord Desmond Manderly. He instantly became aware, and pressed his lips tight, not scared of eye contact.
“His turn”, Daera thinks.
Jacaerys taps his fingers on the table with softness, while the princess opened her mouth and narrowed her eyes.
-I have heard that…the Lord of White Harbor always arrives to the hall with a big laugh-, Daera raises her brows, and places her elbows on the table-. Does the distance from your house make you this silent, my lord?-. She questions with curiosity.
-No, it makes me this preoccupated, princess-. He answered with a hoarse voice, thoughtful. The confession surprised the princes and the other lord.
-What troubles you, lord Desmond?-. Daera mumbles with interest, leaning her head to a side. Manderly sighs heavily through his nose, staring at his supper, but feeling no hunger for it.
-My appetite is gone-, he says-. I came out from the walls of my city to find peace in this warm forest…for me to be with my children, and for my children to be with their sire-. Lord Manderly takes and caresses his fork, briefly raising his brows under their interested gazes-. What I find outside of my city’s walls…-he looks up at them-…is a war between kin-. The lord sighed with tiredness, letting the work to fall on the table.
Daera hided it, but she shivered in that moment. She thought about Jace, Daemon and Baela. Then she thought of Aemond, Aegon and Daeron. She thought of every member of the family, even of Alicent. It is as the lord says. They are one family, but of two sides. As it has always been…
-No war is taking place, Lord Manderly, with all due respect-. Jacaerys shook his head from side to side-. We are just taking caution, and assuring whose and which houses will be by our side if…-he gulps-…if the dispute reaches a peak-. He clarifies.
Lord Manderly blinks slowly while looking at the both of them, and then he scrunches his nose.
-In the North, kinslaying is cursed-. He commented with seriousness.
-It is everywhere-. Jacaerys instantly nods-, under the eyes of every god-. He raises his brows, recalling that, in the North, they worship the Old Gods.
-Blood from no Targaryen vein has been spilled-. Daera states with confidence, making the three man to look at her-, and neither will be, if The Greens see and realize that they do not stand a chance against us, if they see we have both The Vale and The North with us-. The princess stressed “The North” and raised her eyebrows, continuously tapping a finger on the table to get her point straight.
Lord Manderly breathed in, and then closed his eyes, briefly shaking his head and calmly standing up from his chair under the sight of all. He walks slowly, looking outside the windows. Jace and Daera presses their lips with patience.
-I am not the Lord of The North-. He shakes his head, sighing briefly. Daera hums lowly, clenching her jaw-. And you have come to The Vale looking for The Vale’s response. Here, I am only a coincidence-. He states, shrugging-…Why would you even want to convince me?-, his eyes narrow, speaking with humbleness.
Proud as fuck, this one is. Daera turned to look at Jace when he stood from the table too. The sound of the chair made Lord Manderly to turn, seeing prince Jacaerys rising with confidence while looking at him.
-Each flag that can fly next to ours is important, and for yours we would be eternally grateful, Lord Manderly-. The Heir to the Iron Throne spoke firmly, standing besides the seat of his wife, who looks at the lord with crystal serious eyes-. As we speak, we have Winterfell as our next stop, and there we’ll treat with the Guardian of The North-, he assured, surprising both lords.
-You’ll uh…speak with Stark too?-. Manderly questions with surprise, fully turning to him.
-Personally-. Jace quickly nodded-. And it would be a great honor to start our join to Winterfell by having the support of Lord Cregan Stark’s greatest lord vassal-. The prince declares with seriousness, nodding three times.
Lord Manderly looked down after blinking, thoughtful and flattered, most than all flattered. He hums lowly, constantly touching his white moustache. Prince Jacaerys waits patiently for him to think but, after a few moments, princess Daera stood up from her chair within a second, doing it fiercely and decided.
-We understand your fear about kinslaying, Lord Manderly. Trust me, we do-. She heartily nodded. She did kind of tell a lie, for her greatest wish has always been to murder her cousin, Aegon. “Who cares if I lie, anyways?”-. The last thing we wish for is war, but the first thing we want is the birthright of Queen Rhaenyra to be given to her, properly. But is has been plucked away by the usurpers-. Princess Daera speaks with courage, walking some steps pass her husband, who looked at her back with passion, agreeing with her words. Desmond reads her face whole, thinking-…We need you, my Lord-. She slowly declared, staring at him.
Lord Corbray sighed, more than convinced by the princes’ words. Pass some silent seconds, Lord Manderly came to speak.
-White Harbor is not unsympathetic to your mother’s plight-. Manderly declared, opening his hands towards them-. Mine own forebears were despoiled from their birthright when our enemies drove us into exile on those cold northern shores-. The lord remembers, narrowing his eyes for some seconds-. When the Old King visited us so long ago, he spoke of the wrong that had been done to us and promised to make redress-. Desmond tells with his hoarse thoughtful voice.
Jacaerys and Daera listen carefully to him, hearing his story. Lord Corbray does the same, interested too in the tale of his friend.
-In pledge of that, His Grace offered the hand of his daughter Viserra to my great-grandsire, that our two houses might be made as one…but the girl died, and the promise was forgotten…-, he spoke with a kind of shame and pity, pressing his lips to then sigh.
And, understanding what was being asked of them, the princes realized they are facing a bargainer shrewder than Lord Corbray. Daera gulped, turning her head to look at Jace, who bit his cheeks and also looked at her. They stare at each other in silence, talking with their eyes.
The spouses were quick to decide that they must do what it must be done, for the sake of their family and their safeness. So, moments later, the princes stared at the awaiting lord back again, at the same time.
-I understand that you have two younger daughters, Lord Manderly-. Prince Jacaerys says, walking forward-. The youngest, Jocelyn, will marry Lord Corbray’s youngest son, am I correct?-. He raises his eyebrows, reaching his wife’s side, who briefly tilted her head.
-Indeed-, Desmond quickly nodded, interested. Daera gulps, crossing her hands over her plain belly.
-We have a little brother, Joffrey, the same age as your other daughter-. The princess says with firmness, and his lord’s eyes began to shine. Jacaerys breathed slowly, closing his eyes for a second-. Joff will marry your daughter, as soon as all the fuss is over, and Rhaenyra seats the throne-. She declared.
And, so, Lord Manderly let out a big laugh.
-We have a compact-. Desmond vividly nods, approaching to them. Jace smiled slightly, while Daera just nodded-. Now that is worth fighting a war for-. He snickers with confidence, narrowing his eyes.
The brown-skinned princess blinks slowly, traveling in time for a second, and remembering when she herself was forced into a betrothal, to Jace. She couldn’t help but gulp, thinking that she’s now doing the same for her lovely and innocent Joffrey. “He’s so young” she sorrowed. But perhaps that is for the best… And it indeed is for their cause.
Gaining back her posture, Daera breathes in and comes out of her mind. When she does so, she looked down, finding Lord Manderly kneeling before the two of them. She parted her lips, nearly smiling, and narrowing her eyes.
-Your mother’s birthright will be recovered, and we shall have our Queen-. Lord Desmond said with determination, looking up at them. Jacaerys clenches his jaw-. I swear to you the fealty of my men, my house, and my soul-. He promised, truthful, not blinking once.
Prince Jacaerys and princess Daera breathed in with deepness, staring at the lord in silence. Seconds then, they turned their heads to look at each other. When glancing at the other’s eyes, they found similarities. They’re shining. Pridefully and victoriously.
■ ■ ■
The princes weren’t staying the night at Heart’s Home -even though it is already dark-. They would fly until reaching The Neck, where they would make camp and feed their dragons. Afterwards they’ll head to Winterfell.
When the two lords at presence learned of the princes’ plans, they both made their own contribution.
Lord Corbray gave them warm furs and bed sheets, along a basket of fresh bread and salted meat, for them to find as much comfort as possible in their camp. Personally, he gifted a wee silver dagger to the princess, even though she already had one on her belt. She thanked him, and promised him to let him know how she’d name it when she’d find the proper alias.
Lord Manderly took the trouble to redact a letter and send it with a raven towards Winterfell immediately. In the paper, he announces the Valyrian princes’ arrival to the Guardian of the North, Cregan Stark. As his greatest lord vassal, Desmond knew his lord would appreciate the heads up. The raven will arrive first than the princes, for they will make their stop at some point. Nevertheless, the bird won’t.
The day has officially ended; thus, the night has officially arrived. One day. One day, and Jace and Daera won for their side the fealty and loyalty of three big houses of Westeros.
That was something that Kalistrox and Vermax celebrated when, once again, they took off from the ground, and continued their voyage again.
Both dragons shriek loudly and sharply as they soar with fastness above that river. The moon shines right above their heads, lightning all the surroundings and whereabouts beautifully. Older and younger dragon fly side by side for some moments, until Vermax roared and flapped his wings faster, taking off to the heights. On the other hand, Kalistrox flew even lower.
The Golden Ray roared with power, caressing the water with his wings as he flapped them on it two times. Water splashed on Daera’s face, and she laughed heartily when that happened, having a bright smile on her lips, and a great shine on her purple eyes.
The princess chuckled and pulled her saddle, scrunching her nose. Kalistrox shrieked and immediately dipped his body high and higher into the skies of above. He flaps his wings with fastness, quickly getting away of the river, of the woods, of a soft breeze.
A strong wind blows on the princess’ face, and she laughs while crossing cloud after cloud, until her dragon gave a harsh flap an got them out of them. They reached a clear dark sky, to which Vermax welcomed them with a happy shriek. Kalistrox roared back with the same greeting, shaking his long neck.
The prince Jacaerys turned to look at his right with a smile on his face and red on his cheeks. Princess Daera did the same, flying right by his side while looking at him while giggling, having her hands in the air, all perfectly lighted by the blessed moon of this day.
Daera licked her lips, and Jace pressed his, the both doing it with high pride. They felt it in the air as they looked at each other, it is obvious. They are a perfect match. A powerful couple.
They will win the Seven Kingdoms back.
The spouses blink, and turned their heads to stare forward, having the same pride on their eyes while riding their dragons. They faced the moon, more than ready to face everything that their next and last destination could give them.
Winterfell.
■ ■ ■
Had their brother’s “shorter, safer” flight gone as well, much bloodshed and grief might well have been averted.
The tragedy that befell Lucerys Velaryon at Storm’s End was never planned, on this we can all agree. The first battles in the Dance of the Dragons were fought with quills and ravens, with threats and promises, decrees and blandishments.
The murder of Lord Beesbury at the green council -by the hands of Ser Criston- was not yet widely known; most believed his lordship to be languishing in some dungeon. Whilst sundry familiar faces were not seen about court, no heads had appeared above the castle gates, and many still hoped that the question of succession might be resolved peaceably.
The Stranger had other plans. For surely it was his dread hand behind the ill challenge that brought the two princelings together at Storm’s End, when the dragon Arrax raced before a gathering storm to deliver Lucerys Velaryon to the safety of the castle yard, only to find Aemond Targaryen there before him.
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡
■ ■ ■
The matter has been decided, then. Jacaerys and Daera would fly to The Eyrie, in The Vale, and then towards Winterfell, to gain support from the North. Lucerys will go south, to treat with the greatest lord of the Stormlands, Storm’s End’s lord, Borros Baratheon.
Everyone in Dragonstone already know this, save prince Daemon, who still remains disappeared between the mountains and the rock hills of the island, since this early morning. Nobody truly knew what he was up to and, honestly, nobody seemed to care enough, for they were attending to more pressing matters.
The morning keeps advancing in time whilst most of the staff of Dragonstone help prepare everything the young three princes will need for their travels, from a meal before parting to their packing and their most needed personal artefacts.
And, while the servants are kind enough to completely worry about this, princes Jacaerys and Daera are in his chambers, still not properly dressed to part, but readying all the abouts of said departing of theirs. They both stand side to side, looking at a huge map of Westeros the prince is owner of.
-We’ll get to The Eyrie today, of course, hopefully before nightfall-, Jace says with a calculating voice.
-Aye, we’ll be there before the sun leaves-, his wife nods, licking her lips. She narrows her eyes, twisting her mouth for a second-. Luke’s flight is faster than ours, of course-, she points Storm’s End in the map, and The Eyrie at the same time.
-His is an hour shorter, or perhaps even two, considering the strong winds of the Stormlands-, the prince bops his head to a side. Daera breathes in deeply, feeling tension on her shoulders. He side-eyed her, sensing her worriness-. And Arrax is still small, he shall be swifter with that wind-, he says.
-Yes, or more helpless-. She quickly refuted, raising her brows. He presses his lips, looking at her. Seconds later, she sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head, and reminding herself that she should not worry-…If treating with Jeyne Arryn turns out fast, which will be, we’ll leave to Winterfell this very night-, she decides.
-We shall-, he heartily agreed.
The doors are opened, and Ser Erryk comes through them, opening his mouth to talk, but princess Daera was quicker.
-The fuck you want?-, she questioned within a second, not even looking at him. Jace gasps, and the knight just blinks.
-Daera!-, her husband scolded within an ashamed murmur. The princess remains with a sharp expression, looking at the armored one for a moment. He looked at her too, silently and serious-. Please speak, Ser-. Jace allows.
-My prince, my princess-. He bows his head to both-, the princess Rhaenys-. He announced, taking two steps back.
Afterwards, their grandmother walks into the room, quietly. She wears her riding armour, for she’s already ready to depart to The Gullet, as it was settled. Seeing her, Jace and Daera both remained silent, only nodding. Ser Erryk bowed, and walked out again, closing the doors of the room. Rhaenys watches them with interest, seeing them reading a westerosi map.
-Alright-, Daera sighs-. We’ll not be tired yet after gaining The Vale, so we’ll leave immediately to Winterfell, right?-. She keeps making the plan they were doing before.
-Right-. Her husband instantly nodded-. Which is…very, very far away-. He sighed briefly, twisting his mouth while analyzing the map. Rhaenys walks slowly, analyzing them instead. They’re deeply concentrated in their matter, the both of them with the same calculating eyes-. Here-, he points.
-Oh, yes-. Daera raises her brows, looking at the spot he’s tapping with two of his fingers-. The Neck-, she nods.
-We’ll camp in The Neck, right after crossing the border between The Riverlands and The North. We will be more than halfway there; it will be the perfect time to rest, and to feed the dragons-. He planned.
-Mind that we’ll be close to the Kingsroad…we cannot fly up there. We do not need anyone but our objectives to see us-. Daera shakes her head, and he nods with interest, listening to her. Rhaenys blinks quietly, halting her walk, and standing close to the table, in front of them. She stares at the two blue sapphire rings her granddaughter wears.
-Yes, you are right-. Jacaerys mumbles, nodding-. Then we’ll be keeping our distances with Moat Cailin, and Castle Cerwyn-. He declared.
-Also with Torrhen’s Square, which is partially on the way-. The princess points to the map. Her husband nods slowly, agreeing. His wife hums, seeing what else they could cover.
-A fine strategy-, princess Rhaenys spoke, for the first time since she entered the rooms. Both princes looked up, staring at her with raised brows and serious expressions, lightly nodding-. Are you ready, then?-. She asked.
Daera breathes deeply in, afflicting her throat. She turned her head to look at Jace, who did the same to look at her. He almost started to smirk.
-My prince-, Ser Torres, Jace’s sworn protector, sneaks his head into the room, making everyone to look at him-. The dragonkeepers are asking for your presence, my prince-. He informed with a kind tone.
-Thank you, Ser Torres-. The prince nodded. The knight did so as well, and walked out again. Jace fixes his posture, looking at both woman-. If you’ll excuse me-, he politely says.
-Go ahead, we’re done here-. His wife allowed, while Rhaenys just smirked tinyly to him, nodding.
Afterwards, prince Jacaerys left with his Sworn Protector by his side. Daera’s, then, made sure to close the door. She and Ser Erryk shared a quick glance, where her eyes were cold towards him. The knight just pressed his lips, and closed.
The room gets filled with silence. The younger princess stares at her map, nodding to herself.
-You seem to feel rather displeased by your Sworn Protector-, Rhaenys notices, starting to wander around the room once again, stealthy and slowly, looking at her from head to toe.
-Aye-, she affirms, not trying to hide it-. He helped the Greens to hide that Aegon raped a child the other day, and the gods know who else-. Daera informed with no desire of being discreet, she even spoke a little louder, perhaps so the White Cloak would hear her.
Rhaenys raised her brows briefly, perturbated by the fact. She gulped while walking, remembering those cheers in the Dragonpit that dared to call that monster a King. She killed at least the half of them.
-Hmm…-, Rhaenys looks thoughtful, quiet. Before her silence, Daera separates her gaze from the map, looking at her with a light interest-. Sometimes even the purest of heart can be terrified by the most dangerous-, she pointed out with a calmed tone.
-“Purest of heart?”-, Daera repeated, furrowing her brows-. That man did nothing to help that child-. She refutes, speaking fastly.
-That man brought Rhaenyra’s crown to her-. The older princess spoke quick as well, raising her frown with confidence. Daera seals her lips, serious, shaking her head a little-. He made himself an enemy of that falsehood, of the Fake Crown, without anyone having asked him to do it-, she pointed.
The Dragon Goodness remained silent, glancing at the map again while gulping. For a moment there, she recalled all the times she would go out to Flea Bottom with Helaena, and how she’d always encounter the Cargyll twin in the abouts and joke with him. Until knowing about Dyana’s rape, Daera was actually…nice with him, she remembers.
-If it wasn’t for him, well…-. Rhaenys breathes in deeply, looking at her own rings of silver, and gulping with some unquietness-…perhaps I wouldn’t even be here, nor speaking with you, granddaughter-. She confessed.
Such confession confused the youngest prince, who furrowed her brows and parted her lips with alert, not understanding.
-Ser Erryk was the one who helped me out of my bedroom-cell, and who guided me through the savage mob of Flea Bottom to head to the Pit-. Rhaenys tells her with honesty, looking at her. Daera is left speechless, opening her eyes widely-. He fought brother and turned his cloak to the Greens, to help me- to help us-. She says, briefly nodding with her head under the surprised look of her granddaughter-…I owe him my life-. The Queen Who Never Was declared.
Daera breaths out, in shock, blinking hugely. Everything started to make sense, as why he arrived just hours after Rhaenys did, with that crown and willing. He not only escaped the Greens during the fuss, but…
-He took action before all even started-. Rhaenys pointed out. Daera gulps strongly, feeling a lump on her throat by the only idea of her grandma under the possibilities of being murdered by those monsters-. That’s how desperate he was to flee Aegon’s side…-, she muttered, scoffing.
-Grandma-. Daera sighs, in shock, approaching to her-. Why- why you hadn’t told me?-. She asked with worriness, taking her hands in hers, gripping her fingers.
-We hadn't had much time alone since my arrival-, Rhaenys answered with a soft tone, looking down. She stares, again, at those blue rings the girl always wields. In that moment, the older princess’ face became somewhat tired, and disappointed-. And besides…you rarely pay attention to me…-, she muttered, weary.
Daera quickly looks down too, realizing she was eyeing the rings. Aemond. Daera’s lips trembled with weakness. She pressed them tightly, and drew her hands away from her.
-Grandma!-, Daera gasped with discomfort, stepping back and walking away, not looking at her again. Rhaenys immediately followed, going behind her with quick steps.
-I am not afraid of telling you “I told you so”-. Her firm voice scolded with no repentance. The younger princess, feeling her trembling lips again, walks towards the balcony, going slower while receiving the fresh sea breeze-. He was always his mother’s son, Otto Hightower’s grandson and Aegon’s brother first than your husband. He always was-. She pointed out, shameless, speaking the plain truth.
Princess Daera stands on her balcony, facing the sea with a glum face. Her tired purple eyes rest in the ground while she twists her shaky lips. Her beloved’s image doesn’t leave her mind as he’s being spoken of with ill.
Rhaenys breathes in deeply, feeling her granddaughter’s pain while she speaks this way about him. This is not the first time that such scenario takes place, at all. But she does hope this is the last time, though.
-Their never-ending lust for the throne was always that family’s doom, and shall continue to be it-. The Queen Who Never Was speaks and walks firmly towards her, getting closer.
-On that we agree, grandma, but he’s not like his family-. Daera spoke quickly and trembling, instantly defending him, which made Rhaenys to sighed tiredly, and to answer immediately.
-I never liked Aemond, Daera-. She denied. The princess furrowed her brows, closing her shaky lips-. He may had been sweet you for a time, but he always tasted and smelled like poison, and now his true colors are truly coming out-. She warned, firmly and serious, staring at her white curly mane. Rhaenys gulps, keeping silent for three seconds while her eyes got soft-…It pains me deeply to see that it had to come to this for you to realize it, my dear one…-, Rhaenys confessed within a low tone.
The Rogue Princess listens with a sour expression, shaking her head. Pentos flashed before her eyes, forbidding those ill words of Rhaenys to get into her mind.
-We still have time to recover the Iron Throne without shedding blood. And if we are, then he also has time to realize what he is doing, and repent it-. Daera dictates, raising her brows. Her love for him is making her to speak as if she doesn’t know him, for the true Daera knows that Aemond would first let lighting struck him than to admit that he was wrong-. He’ll come around-, she muttered, sure.
-Daera!-, Rhaenys grew desperate.
-He is my husband-. She suddenly turned around, facing her again, with sourness and firmness-. I thought that you, more than anyone else, would understand that I cannot give up on him so easily!-, Daera raised her brows.
-He already did on you-. Rhaenys spoke within the second, unfazed. Daera felt her heart sinking in that moment, almost stumbling. She clenched her jaw, breathless, lightly shaking her head-…as soon as his father died. He had the first chance, and didn’t let it go-. She pointed the truth with no mercy. Grim tears started to appear on the younger’s purple eyes-. As I wasn’t’ going to declare for his brother, he didn’t care about leaving me to rot in that room, locked and alone…-. Rhaenys murmurs, serious.
Daera whimpered for a quick moment, keeping a strong face, but she wanted to cry. Oh, she wanted to cry so hard when picturing Aemond leaving her grandmother to starve, or to the King’s Justice hands, just because she didn’t declare for Aegon. Hadn’t Ser Erryk helped Rhaenys…would he really have done that? No. She will not believe that.
-You’re angry…-Rhaenys mumbles, staring at the sapphire rings again. Daera fastly hid her hands behind her back, gulping strongly-…but you don’t hate him… yet-. She bopped her head to a side, analyzing the situation-. You are the eldest, Daera. You’re suppose to be the wisest-. Rhaenys scolds with bemusement, shaking her head.
With her eyes filled with heavy tears that still haven’t fallen, Daera shook her head from side to side, harshly clenching her jaw.
-I expect to punish Aemond myself, grandma-. She declares, and Rhaenys narrows her eyes, listening to her-. I plan to force him on his knees, to make him cry out of pain and to beg for pardon. I’ll make him to sing his pleading of loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra-. Daera talks with harshness and angriness, poison like-…But he’s my husband…-, she stressed, once again, lowering the tone of her voice.
Rhaenys parts her lips, bemused.
-I fear for you, child-. The grandmother confesses, muttering. The granddaughter blinks-. I fear that your blindness regarding the truth may lead you to…extreme madness, when finally recognizing it…-, she whispers.
Daera gulps, remaining silent. For a moment, only for a moment, she wished to express all her pain to Rhaenys, to cry on her arms. She wished to tell him how she and Aemond were going to have a child, before all of this. “I didn’t drink my Moon Tea that night”, she’d tell her. But that would only get Rhaenys’ panic to a higher level, when hearing that Aemond then asked her to do drink the tea instead.
“So first he promises you a bastard, and then obliges you to get rid of it”, she kens Rhaenys’d say. Daera hates that word, and Rhaenys hates Aemond.
So, no tale of the gone Alyssa was told.
-Have hope, grandma, please…for my sake-. Daera sighed after long moments of a tensed silence-. Trust that, at the end…everything will be fine…-, she trusted heartily.
Rhaenys gulps strongly, with two tears on her cheeks. She stares at her beautiful first grandchild, who has grown to be so strong and graceful. They will part ways, for now. She has no more desire of fighting, but to farewell her.
So, Rhaenys took the girl in her arms, wrapping her in them. Daera sobbed strongly, hugging her too, closing her eyes harshly.
-Be careful, dearest…-. Rhaenys weakly whispered.
-You too, grandma-. Daera mumbled as well.
The Queen Who Never Was kisses her granddaughter’s two cheeks with deep love, having a great lump in the middle of her throat. She trusts Daera in everything, but this.
■ ■ ■
Prince Lucerys walks through the hallways of the castle. He is all ready to go now, all dressed and armed, all settled for him to leave to Storm’s End.
He goes walking firmly, and yet, he’s noticing how the people around is looking at him as he passes by. And there is worriness in their eyes, from the cook’s to even some of the knights’ and guards’. The reason is simple: they don’t believe him capable of taking this errand by his own, without his brother or sister.
Lucerys could get mad with the people looking at him, but how could he blame them? Because it is true; he has never done anything without Jace, Daera or Rhaenyra’s help. They’ve pampered him too much, and now this is the cost: he’s unreliable. But he’ll show them. He’ll show them all he is as capable as all the rest of his family.
The prince reached the nursery of the castle, opening the doors to walk into it. Inside, he finds his siblings, the lot of them, who immediately looked at him. On a divan, Joffrey is seated on Baela’s knees, being hugged by her. Rhaena rocks Viserys in her arms, tenderly, as well as Daera is doing with Aegon the Younger. Jacaerys stands close to his wife, smiling to the babe on her arms.
The siblings all agreed to gather here, before their departing.
It was impossible to not think of the fact that another babe should be with them at this moment, but Visenya is gone and…well, they’ll have to live forever with that pain.
-Well-, Daera sighs, softly rocking Aegon while looking at all of her siblings after Luke closed the doors behind him-. We will be…apart, during some days, then-. She said, speaking with a twisted small smile.
The Rogue Princess and her husband are ready as well to leave. Jace wears fine clothing and a long cape that shall keep him warm. Daera has covered her arms again, hiding her wounds, for she’s wearing a long-sleeved black dress, perfect to ride, as well as her leather boots. They both carry swords with them, and a small dagger is hidden discreetly in the prince’s belt.
-The days will pass quickly-, Baela assured with a hopeful tone, caressing Joffrey’s hair, who remains snuggled up on her knees.
Jacaerys blinked softly, staring at Baela, Joff and Rhaena, and forming a slow smile on his lips as he took steps closer to them. The three of them looked at the other three with dearness and yearning, already missing them.
-How long you’ll be gone?-. The little boy asked, sadly. Rocking Viserys, Rhaena pressed her lips and looked at them. Daera sighed with a tired smile, while Jacaerys cocked his head, and Luke was the one who answered.
-I’ll return the sooner, Joff-. He promised, nodding to him. Daera looks at the blue-eyed prince, lightly gulping-. I may even be here already for tomorrow’s supper-, he smiled, lifting his cheeks.
-Really!?-, Joff opened his eyes big, excited, which made them all laugh-. Oh well then- then it won’t be for too long!-. He realizes, relieved.
-No it won’t, sweet thing-. Daera assured with dearness, smiling at him. Joff twisted his lips into a happy smile, staring at her. Discreetly, Luke also took a glance at her, pressing his mouth.
Softly sniffing Viserys’ head, Rhaena blinks with slowness, thoughtful, looking at the floor.
Jace sighs through his nose, fixing his eyes on the middle sister, who looked back at him with firmness. He blinked calmly, looking at her.
-You’ll be in charge now, Baela-. The prince dictated, whilst his wife neared with slow steps, rocking Aegon and looking at her too with a trusted tiny smile-. See that everything is in order while we’re away-, he asked.
-I will-. Baela answered with firmness, staring at both their older siblings, who smiled at her with confidence-. You shall find things in order, when you come back to us-. She promised, serious and sincere.
-Good-, Daera nodded, softly raising her brows.
-There is…- When they heard Rhaena's discouraged voice, everyone turned their heads to look at her-. There’s no way of making you all stay, is there now?-. The younger girl questioned with severe sadness, already knowing the answer.
Lucerys parted his lips after gulping, nervously moving on his place. Daera furrowed her brows, carefully placing Aegon on his cradle. When hearing her, Jace walked towards her.
-Rhaena-, he sighed her name, placing his hands on her shoulders, and gripping them with dearness. She gulps, tired, while rocking Viserys-. We have been apart before-, he pointed, smiling with sadness.
-Not in the middle of a war-, she mumbled shaking her head. Baela gulped, and Daera walked closer with sad eyes, understanding her fear. They’re all sad, to be honest.
-We’re not in war, we’re avoiding it instead-. Jace corrected, raising his brows. She sighed, just nodding.
Jacaerys gave her a look the same as Rhaenyra’s soft loving one. Afterwards, he placed a kiss on one of her cheeks, and then he hugged Baela, as their farewell, doing it tightly. Both younger sisters smiled to him with sadness, the youngest with a heaviest one.
Seconds later, Jace turned around while Daera walked closer; Lucerys looked at them both. Then, the three of them stared at each other with a weird kind of heaviness. They know they must leave, but a part of them wishes to stay.
-You’ll do greatly, brother-. Jace spoke towards Luke with trust, siding a smile. Luke furrowed his brows and corresponded the smirk, slightly nodding.
Then, the younger of the three directed his light blue eyes towards his older sister. They all recalled their discussion, and how they haven’t made peace since then. Daera looked at him, softly but serious. He gulped.
-So…-, Daera sighs, approaching to him while cocking her head to a side-…are you sure, then?-. She asked within a murmur, blinking softly.
Her bad.
-Why- why wouldn’t I be sure?-. Lucerys fastly furrows his brows, taking a step back. Daera stutters, quickly shaking her head-. You doubt of me too, don’t you?-. He scoffed, this time looking at all of them. Joffrey got confused.
-No, no-. Baela instantly shook his head.
-I cannot stand everyone treating me as- as some baby!-. The boy complains, uncomfortable.
-Luke, I don’t want to fight with you-. Daera says as calmly as possible, briefly showing him a smile.
-No. You don’t want me to tell the truth-. Luke shook his head-. But y’all will hear it-, he declared, looking at the others, who watch him with discreet worriness, allowing him to talk-. I am the future Lord of The Tides. Our grandsire is- is alive. I have time to get ready, more than enough, and now that’s what I’ll do, whether you pamper me or not-, he raises his brows, speaking bravely-. And I am sorry, Rhaena, but I am not willing to let my fright win over me…nor yours…-, the prince stated, somewhat shameful at the end, looking at his betrothed with compassion but firmness.
Rhaena’s sad eyes fell on the floor, keeping silence. Jace listens to his brother with his chin up, proudly. Joffrey looks up to him, admiring his total bravery, and Baela sighed, trusting in him too.
-I can do this, and I will-. Lucerys dictated, as firm as he could, though his voice trembled a little.
He looked at Daera. She breathed slowly through her nose, forming a tiny smile, and shaking her head from side to side.
-I believe in you, Luke, I always have-. She said, and he didn’t believe her-. I'll be able to talk to you well when we're done then…-, Daera foresaw, tiredly raising her brows.
- You will be able to talk to me well when you stop seeing me as a child-, Lucerys stated, not as an argument, but as a fact. She understood it otherwise.
-Luke, you are a child!-. She suddenly shrieked, opening her eyes big, and making him to flinch.
-Stop fighting!-., Joffrey instantly yelled, irritated. Lucerys, who was about to fight back, closed his mouth. Everybody made silence too, turning to look at the little one, whose lips trembled for a second.
Daera eyed Luke, then Joffrey, then Luke, and lastly Joffrey, sighing while forming a smile, and walking towards him with a playful look.
-Ow, Tamer!-. She scrunches her nose, and he starts to giggle when seeing her approaching-. You are my child, are you not?!-. Daera asked tauntly, lifting him up from Baela’s knees, and clearly making fun of Luke, on purpose.
From his place, Lucerys strongly rolled his eyes, breathing in deeply. Jace couldn’t help himself and laughed a little, walking towards his wife.
-Hells, I’ll miss you so much!-, Daera places loud kisses on Joff’s cheeks, making him to endlessly laugh. She smiles funnily, turning to look at her sisters, who looked back at her with tiny smiles.
Closing her lips and placing Joff back in the floor, Daera smiled to them with warmth and confidence. Jace arrived to her side with a similar expression, hugging her sideways, by the shoulder.
-This is it…-, Baela whispers, gulping.
Daera, Jace, Baela, Luke, Rhaena and Joffrey, all together in the same room with the babes Aegon and Viserys, looked between each other during seconds they didn’t want to truly pass. The feeling is a strange one, for this situation never happens. They are used to always be together, always enjoying each other’s company. Always by each other’s side.
The doors of the nursery are suddenly open. Daemon walked in with fast steps and a fast breath. They all turned with curiosity, seeing him for the first time in the day. For some, their last time.
The Rogue Prince breathes in with deepness and slowness, looking at each of them with his crazy eyes wide opened. His children look at him with calm and quietness, kind of knowing what he’s here for. He has heard the new of their departing, and has come to say goodbye.
And a single look was enough from him. Daemon watched at his oldest daughter, and Rhaenyra’s older sons, the three of them ready to go to fulfill their missions. He blinks, just one time, remaining with his lips parted, and a slow breathing.
He stared at Daera, who slowly raised her closed lips and lifted her cheeks. She smiled to him, calmly. He sighed longly, briefly moving his head to a side.
He trusts them.
-The Queen is calling for you…-, prince Daemon’s low voice mumbled. Baela, Joffrey and Rhaena turned to look at Jacaerys, Lucerys and Daera.
Queen Rhaenyra’s Envoys lifted their chins up, instantly attending.
■ ■ ■
And there she is, Rhaenyra, standing in one of the huge balconies of her castle in Dragonstone. The Queen faces the sea with a thoughtful gaze, lightly playing with the rolled papers she has on her hands. Ser Erryk, the White Cloak, stands a little far from her, quietly.
The wind blows Nyra’s hair and face, caressing both. She thinks about the errand she’s about to give to three of her children. Her heart is worried, she cannot lie to herself. She worries about Jace’s desire to be perfect in everything, and how that could get him in trouble. She worries about Daera’s bad temper, and how easy she can get into a fight. She worries about Luke’s innocence, for he sometimes doesn’t know how to face the world’s nastiness.
The Queen starts to hear steps getting closer; she knew they’re coming. She breathed in with deepness, slowly. On the other side, she knows they’ll do just fine, putting aside all their flaws. She has raised them with heart and soul, and this’ll show now, when they take this responsibility.
Daera, Jace and Lucerys arrive, all the three walking together. They see Rhaenyra turning around to face them with a calmed face, and Ser Erryk standing there in silence, with a huge book on his hands. The princess eyed him for a second, sharing a quick look with him while recalling what Rhaenys told her this morning.
-Your Grace-, Daera nods, looking at her.
Nyra looks at them too, briefly showing a smile. Afterwards, she looks down at the papers on her hands, sighing shortly.
-It is said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men-. She raises her brows. Luke gulps, eyeing for a second the great sea behind his mother-. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps-, a soft mumble left her lips.
Jace nods slowly, with his jaw clenched with seriousness. Daera remains with a tender face as she listens, with her head lightly cocked to a side. Rhaenyra looks at the both of them, and breathed in deeply when recalling their temper.
-But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms…we must answer to their gods-. She informed, and the girl inevitably furrowed her brows when hearing so-. If you take this errand, you go as messengers…not as warriors-. The Queen dictated, serious, shaking her head. Lucerys turned his head to look at his siblings, who looked back at him in silence, not liking the idea much-. You must take no part in any fighting-. She ordered.
-And…-, Daera sings innocently. Rhaenyra clenched her jaw when she starts to smirk-..what ifff…?-
-Swear it to me, now-. The Queen interrupted her, serious. Daera closed her mouth and sighed, knowing that it’d be useless to defy the Queen’s orders-…under the eyes of The Seven-. Nyra states, turning to look at the White Cloak.
Ser Erryk approaches to them, now revealing that he was holding a huge bible of Westeros’ most popular gods, the Seven. Daera couldn’t help but to gulp. Aemond’s religion, the one that she so many times has mocked and disrespected. “You’ve got to be kidding”.
Lucerys was the first to take a step forward, and to place his hand on the sacred book.
-I swear it-. The boy heartily promised, looking at his mother, who nodded lightly towards him, thankful.
Meanwhile, the couple behind glanced at each other with eyes of doubt. This is not their religion, true, but it is as Rhaenyra said: it is their people’s.
Serious, and almost in a menacing way, Nyra then looked at the both of them. Blinkless, she didn’t need a word to force them into the oath. Daera sighed tiredly, nearly rolling her eyes.
-Fine, fine-. She mumbles, taking a step forward along Jacaerys. The both of them placed their hands on the bible.
-I swear it-, he declared with honor, raising his brows.
-I swear it-, she babbled under her breath. Ser Erryk blinks reproachfully.
-What was that?-, Nyra narrows her eyes.
-I swear it!-, Daera repeated, now firmly and with determination. Without anyone’s realization, Luke bit the inner of his cheeks, nearly smiling with amusement.
Rhaenyra blinked softly, and sighed briefly, turning to look at the knight.
-Thank you-, she nodded. Ser Erryk stepped back again, returning to his place. Luke, Daera and Jace look at her, who eyed the papers on her hands-. Cregan Stark is…close than your age than to mine-. Rhaenyra confesses, looking up to the eldest siblings-. I would hope, that as men, you can find some common interest-. She said to Jace, who blinked with listening-…and as warriors too-, she added, eyeing Daera, who showed her a quick smirk.
Nyra offers the letter to them, and it was Jace who took it.
-Yes, Your Grace-. He agreed whilst his wife nodded. Rhaenyra looks at the both of them with a sided thoughtful smile, not only feeling but seeing too the confidence they have in themselves.
She looks down, twisting her mouth a little. Two seconds then, she looked up again. And she found Luke. He’s scared, and believes he’s good at hiding it. The Queen’s eyes got so softer.
Daera and Jace also looked at their brother, feeling their chest shrinking a little. It is hard, they must admit, to know he will be alone on his errand.
Rhaenyra bopped her head, signaling him to approach, and he instantly did, mouth-opened and with worried eyes that yet were curious, and brave.
-Storm’s End is a short flight from here-. Is the first thing The Queen assures with her characteristic soft tone-. You have Baratheon blood from your grandmother, Rhaenys-. Nyra recalls with a hopeful tone, raising her brows. Daera blinks tenderly, forcing herself to not think of that lie-. And…Lord Borros is an eternally proud man-. She said it so confidently and almost funnily, that it made Luke’s heart lighter-. He will be honored to host a prince of the realm…and his dragon-, his mom promised, heartfully.
Lucerys closed his lips into a loving smile, looking at her with tender blue eyes that got calm for a least these brief seconds. She smiled at him too, shining with warmth.
He looks down, seeing their united hands. Silently, Daera watches at that too, internally thanking that he’s at least accepting Rhaenyra’s comfort, for he’s obviously avoiding everyone else’s. But if he is calm…then she’s too.
Rhaenyra caresses his fingers, motherly, and then places his correspondent paper on his hand, closing it.
-I expect you will receive a very warm welcome-, Nyra assures, tenderly and sincere. Luke smiles dearly, looking at her.
-Yes, mother- Your- Your Grace-, he nervously stutters, quickly correcting himself. Rhaenyra smiled, and he chuckled, looking down for a few moments.
She caressed his arm two times as he walked back to the side of his siblings, who quickly looked at him with softness. When Lucerys arrived to their side again, the three of them looked to the Queen again, for the last time.
Rhaenyra stared at the three with a frozen small smile on her closed lips. Her eyes shine while looking at them with slowness, taking her time. Her mouth made a little pout, a touched one, when she realized -perhaps for the first time- that they truly aren’t children anymore, that they’re no longer as little and innocent as they once were, when she could carry them in her arms.
That only means that…she has to let them go. And, so she did.
-…Go to it then-, Queen Rhaenyra permitted, raising her brows.
■ ■ ■
-…Are you ready, sweet boy?-. Daera murmurs softly, giving a light blink.
Kalistrox blinked as well, really slowly, purring sweetly as he feels his rider’s hands caressing his chin and one of his horns, pampering him. The dragon shrieks with dearness, feeling her body’s warmth near his.
They’re in one of the huge mountains of the island. And, near them, the princes Jacaerys and Lucerys are with their bonded dragons as well, each of them on a side of the hill, having their own space. Jace mumbles things to Vermax’s face, while Luke silently caresses Arrax’s neck.
The princess Daera chuckles a little, lowly, while hearing her dragon purr. In one moment, he opened his eyes again, and they became sharp and narrowed all of a sudden. He started to growl with menace, looking at some place. She realized a person was close when her dragon seemed distrustful.
With the strong wind blowing on her white curly long mane, Daera turns around, narrowing her eyes. And it was Ser Erryk, the White Cloak, who entered into their sight. The knight walks up the hill with a serious expression, which turned a little nervous when hearing the golden dragon’s growling. Daera parts her lips, narrowing her eyes.
The Cargyll twin stops walking at a very prudent distance, as far from the dragon as possible. His silver armor shined under the soft sun of the cloudy day. He stares at the princess, firmly and quietly, clearly waiting for her acquaintance. His mouth is closed, and his jaw tense, keeping a straight posture. He sees, from afar, those violet eyes watching a him; some strands of her white hair salute him due to the strength of the wind.
Daera hums lowly, caressing her dragon for a few more seconds. Then, she started to walk, heading towards the knight, who immediately clenched his jaw even more, maintaining his seriousness.
-Princess-, he greets when she’s at a close distance-. You asked for my presence, I was told-. He informed, holding his helmet between his hand and his waist, feeling how the breeze is also blowing his long long hair.
-I did-, she raises her brows, walking with her black leather boots, stepping on the short grass of the hill-. You came quickly-, she notices, briefly smirking. Ser Erryk takes a brief breath in, lightly nodding.
-I know you have an errand to attend, my princess-. The knight answered, and the princess smirks calmly, eyeing him from feet to head in one second. He keeps silence, waiting for a command or so. But, instead, he got another thing.
-My grandmother, princess Rhaenys, told me this morning about…about what you did for her, in King’s Landing-. Daera said, sighing at the end of her sentence, and finally arriving in front of him, halting her steps. Ser Erryk kept a straight face, though he did feel surprised. He wasn’t expecting the subject-. You helped her out of The Keep, when The Greens were…well, being asshole, as usual-. The princess mumbles, crossing her hands over her belly. Her heart ached when thinking of Aemond, as it has been aching lately, every time she thinks of him.
Daera blinks with a thoughtful face, staring at him. For a moment, he almost felt naked. Those purple eyes of her feel like the gods themselves are watching his every step, his every mistake and achievement.
-It was my duty, princess-. He answered, as firmly as possible.
-But it was not-, she shakes her head and shrugges with simpleness-. Your duty was to be by Aegon’s side while he was being crowned. Instead, you helped my grandma, and made yourself an enemy of the Fake Crown, a traitor-. She raised her brows, and bops her head to a side. The knight nearly gulps, almost looking down-. I thank you-, the Dragon’s Goodness said, and Ser Erryk’s lips opened, and his blue eyes blinked only one time. He’s speechless-. Honestly, I thank you for…everything you’ve done for us, in these trying moments-. She confesses, narrowing her eyes.
The White Cloak gulps, fixing his posture even more, clearly flattered, and hiding his nerved. The princess chuckles with no shame, pressing her lips into a funny smirk.
-My heart beats where justice lies, princess-. Ser Erryk declares, serious, with a light nod.
-Ow, we have ourselves a poet here-. She mumbled, and saw him nodding again. “Does he ever laugh?”, she thinks. Daera bops her head to a side, breathing in-. When Aegon raped Dyana, Ser Erryk, what did you do?-. She asked, from a moment to another.
He wanted to gulp. Instead, he answered immediately.
-The lady told me herself, princess-. He says, nearly with no emotion at all-. Afterwards, I went looking for the prince’s mother, and when I found her, then I-
-I want to know the answer of a man-. The princess interrupts him, fading his words in the air-, not that of a knight’s-. She clarified, sincere and serious.
Ser Erryk remained completely silent. He didn’t blink, always staring at the purple sky of her eyes. He gulped, looked down, and then looked up.
-I cursed the prince’s name, and cried to sleep, princess-. Erryk answered, as an honest man. Daera afflicted her throat, not having expected such a raw answer. She loved it.
Blinkless, she stares at him, and he stares at her as well, feeling that he’s almost letting his helmet fall on the ground, for his arms were losing their strength the more he looked to her. He sees her lips opening with slowness, and her teeth almost smiling. She’s alluring.
-Daera!-, a distant scream came from Jacaerys, who already is mounted on his dragon’s back, as well as Luke on his.
Daera gulps, and keeps staring at him, suddenly shaking her head for two seconds.
-I may now confess to you, Ser Erryk, that is an honor to have you as my Sworn Protector-. The princess spoke with firmness, nodding. He has been looking at her at all moments, but his eyes suddenly got shinier, perhaps, when she said those words. She noticed how that affected him, and she couldn’t help herself, and smiled-. Take care of everyone, and my family, while I’m away-. She asked, curving her brows for a second-. Take care of my siblings…please-, she sighed.
-You don’t ever have to ask, princess-. Ser Erryk mumbled under his breath, as honest as sure, not blinking once.
Daera felt the confidence on his voice, and the truth on his words. That made her to smile. That made her to laugh, even. She gifted him a full smile, showing all of teeth beautifully while looking at him. He noticed how her cheeks lifted, and how some small wrinkles appeared around her eyes. He knows guards, knights and protector are not supposed to smile, but he couldn’t help himself. Ser Erryk answered the princess’ gesture, smiling with his lips closed, and lifting up his cheeks with honesty.
Daera bit the inners of hers, chuckled, nodded, and then turned around, not looking at him anymore when she started to walk away. Ser Erryk sighed with his nose, and turned around, beginning to walk down the tall hill.
She goes sharpening her expression when she started to walk towards her dragon. Kalistrox growls, shaking his neck, and lowering it while she approaches. Both Jace and Luke looked at her, seeing the confidence on her face.
-Let’s end this treachery, then!-. The Rogue Princess yelled with courage, louder than the breeze and the ocean. At the same time, she walked up her dragon’s wing, climbing it towards his back.
Ser Erryk stopped walking, turning around his head with parted lips and opened eyes. He stares at the three beasts getting ready to finally depart. Their riders on their backs, fearless.
Daera turned her head, looking at her brothers. Jace looked back at her, nodding with the same confidence that`s on her face. They both nodded. She looked further, towards Luke, finding his eyes as well. Lucerys looked at her with nerves he so harshly tried to hide, but couldn’t. He closed his mouth, gulped, and looked away, pressing his lips. The princess blinked a few times, staring forward again.
Dragonstone hears a roar, one that made everyone to look up. Rhaenyra from the balcony. Joffrey, Baela and Rhaena from a low hill. Daemon from the castle’s gates. They all looked up, turning around when that roar was heard.
Vermax and Kalistrox appeared flying side to side, at the same speed and height, batting their greens and golden wings, respectively. Meleys flies somewhat behind them, soaring with her huge red wings. And Arrax, the youngest and smallest of them all, flies last.
The four different-colored dragons flew together for a few moments, the four of them by the same clouds and feeling the same breeze, constantly roaring while flying, making everyone to hear them. In Dragonstone, everyone did, farewelling them from the grounds, not being able to see their princes’ faces, their family’s faces.
Afterwards, each dragon took a different path, their correspondent one. The Red Queen went right, taking Rhaenys with her. The Golden Ray and Vermax kept flying forward, going faster than the others. Arrax and Prince Lucerys, then, flew south.
Luke turned around his head, looking at the castle for two seconds. He looked at the balcony his mother was standing in. His brows were up and his mouth open when he looked at his home before he and his dragon flew into a dense wrap of dark clouds.
Soon, no dragon was on sight.
From their hill, Rhaena gulped harshly. Her chest felt heavier than ever when she saw her siblings and grandmother disappeared in the sky. She saw her betrothed leaving, all by himself.
Joffrey looked down, sighing with his nose, tired and sad. Baela blinked slowly and calmly, sighing too, and then looking at his little brother.
-Come-, she softly holds his hand, and he gripped it, scratching one of his eyes-…You’re tired-, she mumbles.
-I am-. The kid mutters, starting to walk, and taking her with him. Baela hums with softness, grabbing him between her hands to carry him. Joffrey quickly hugged himself to her as he was being carried-. I’ll miss them-, he said with a weak voice, sad.
-There’s no need, brother-. Baela chuckled softly, walking down the hill while the wind blows her mane-. They’ll be back before you even notice-. She promised to him. And to herself.
Rhaena was left alone in the mountain. She cared little, actually. They’re already separated, anyways. The young girl keeps looking at the sky with heaviness and sorrow, hoping to see Arrax turning around and landing on Dragonstone again. Perhaps Luke forgot something, and had to come down to look for it. If he would…she would not let him leave again. Rhaena hoped Lucerys had left his gloves.
But he didn’t come back.
Someone arrives at the girl’s side, making her to turn her head around. Daemon stands by her right, looking at the ocean with seriousness and his characteristic neutrality. She stayed the same way, not even blinking, not even speaking.
Father and youngest daughter look at each other while the wind caress both their white mane.
-I don’t want to stay on a tower, looking up at the sun and clouds, while my betrothed and my siblings risk themselves out there…-, Rhaena said with seriousness, shaking her head.
Daemon looks at her with barely any expression on his face, cold and thoughtful. He listened. Blinkless, he raised a hand, and caressed one of Rhaena’s arms, from her shoulder to her wrist.
-Come with me-. The Rogue Prince said, turning around, and heading out.
Rhaena gulped, still not blinking. She looked at the sky again, at the empty sky. She thought about them. And after doing so, she gulped, clenched her jaw, and followed her father’s steps, going behind him with firmness.
■ ■ ■
Aegon has been realizing, quickly, that people now look at him in a different way. He is King now, and the respect that has raised between the walls of The Red Keep towards him is astonishing.
Ladies in waiting smile to him, guards follow him without even being asked before, and the people of Flea Bottom praise him. Hells! He has only been King for a few days, and he already has fucked every single woman that walks or breaths in front of him. The feeling is marvelous, and his reality a most attractive one.
“Days of glory seem to have arrived”, he is sure.
It’s like…fuck, it’s like everyone is finally seeing his true worth. It only took a crown placed on his head for people to notice. And now, under his reign, they have! Aegon’s word is law. Everything is more than perfect. He’s now thinking so high of himself, for he’s also realizing his true worth. He is The King of The Seven Kingdoms, for the gods’ sake. “I am the most important person of the realms”.
Ah, another important subject -besides him- is that his grandsire, Otto, arrived this early morning from Dragonstone, having already talked with princess Rhaenyra, The King’s half-sister. The Small Council had an immediate reunion, long before the sun had even risen.
Otto informed what happened on Dragonstone, including prince Daemon’s blood thirst. They’re now waiting for Rhaenyra’s promised answer she’s deliver to King’s Landing. It didn’t arrive yesterday, so the Greens are hoping for it to arrive today, as soon as possible. Most than all, Alicent is; the Dowager Queen hasn’t been able to sleep, to anxious for the answer and too angry that she still doesn’t has it yet.
When hearing his grandsire’s experience on Dragonstone, King Aegon grew restless. He couldn’t believe that his uncle, Daemon, dared to ask for The Hand’s head and didn’t receive punishment for it, for an insult to The Hand is also an insult to The King, and Aegon wasn’t planning on just accepting that, until his Hand told him so.
-Words are nothing but so, Your Grace. There are times when a King must take a threat heavily, but another times…lightly, to prevail peace-. Otto had spoken with his characteristic cockiness and firmness, when they were reunited on the table.
The King just looked away from him, rolling his eyes for a second, telling to himself that that was a very weak philosophy from his Hand. He’s The King! No threat should be taken lightly.
Today is a new day, Aegon’s third as King. Things have been…considerably calmer than they’re supposed to. Rhaenyra has kept her distance, as she should, and the people are content with their new king, as they should too. Dowager Queen Alicent, any ways, walks and speaks with a glum face, always nervous and stressed. But, we’re happy to say that something has brought her peace today: the arrival of her youngest son.
Alicent walks down The Red Keep’s stairs quickly. Her steps are fast and rhythmic. Her long red hair bounces on her back and shoulders, while she delicately holds her dress’ long skirt, watching to not trip with it. She goes through the hallways, she passes by lords and ladies, not even glancing at them. An anxious smile is on the Queen’s lips, and her eyes -very unusually- are shining.
-Your Grace-, Ser Criston, following her at all moments, keeps up with her and her swift pace. His armour clinks and his black hair bounces too as they quicky walk down the stairs. He sighs, stressed, watching that she doesn’t trip. She’s almost running!
Moments before, Alicent was in her chambers, seated by one of her windows while looking outside to Flea Bottom. It was so early that she was still wearing her night gown, which she changed herself toafter the Council’s meeting. Then she saw it. That swift dragoness, with scales and wings as blue as the night sky, of a medium size but of vivid soul. She saw it soaring in the skies and landing at The Dragonpit. Tessarion.
The tall gates in the hall of The Iron Throne are opened from a moment to another by the two guards outside. From there, Dowager Queen Alicent and the Commander of the City Watch, Ser Criston, came quickly into the room. She with an excited expression, letting out a sigh when she finally saw him.
Daeron.
Her youngest son, dressed in fine clothes of tender wool, is mouth-opened. The prince barely paid attention to the sound of the gates, for he was far too marveled in the sight he has in front of him, which is that of his eldest brother, Aegon, seated on The Iron Throne.
The young boy blinks with a dumb expression, taking the image in. The whole hall is empty, and yet his brother has been seating in there for the gods know how long. There’s a crown on his head, one he recognized as the Conqueror’s crown. There’s also a sword resting on a side of the throne…the Conqueror’s too.
The King stares down at his little brother with a cocky expression, knowing what he’s exactly thinking: “That I look great up here”. Aegon sucks his cheeks and narrowed his eyes when their mother suddenly stepped into the room, breathing fastly.
-Mother-, Aegon saluted, serious, giving a light nod.
When hearing the greeting, Daeron came out of his bubble. His brows furrowed lightly, and his head turned around with curiosity. That was when he realized that Alicent was at presence, standing in the entrance of the hall. She’s looking at him with parted lips and relieved eyes. He immediately forgot about his brother.
-Mom-, he gasped, quickly turning around fully to walk towards her.
Queen Dowager let out a very weak chuckle, but she did laugh, also heading towards him. Seconds then, she wrapped her child in both her arms, placing a hand behind his head, and the other on his back.
From the throne, Aegon pressed his lips, glaring at them. He felt jealous when seeing his mother so freely showing love to his brother. Why isn’t she like this with him too?, he wonders. He has seen her hugging Helaena too and, ha, let us not even talk about Aemond, who definitely is her favorite, but Aegon hasn’t realized that yet.
-Oh, mother-. Daeron whispers, hugging the redhead-. I am so sorry…for father…-, he muttered, so lowly, giving his condolences to her.
-We shall talk about that later-, she whispered back, talking over his chest. All of their children have grown taller than her, with the years passed.
Alicent closed her eyes, sighing deeply. The relieve she feels is one of deserved recognition. Her father, Otto, is already home, as well as her son, Daeron. She’s calmer, for sure. Now only Aemond is to arrive, which she’s waiting for deeply. The family would be united and, of course, they’d have Lord Borros’ answer.
-Now-, Alicent sighs, separating from him to pat his shoulders. He looks down at her with softness, holding her elbows-. How was your flight?-, she tries to give him a smile, though she’s so tired.
-I found kind winds, thank the gods-. The boy answers, and she nods, gulping for a second-. Oh, greetings, Ser Criston-. He saluted, becoming aware of the knight standing far from them, as quiet as always.
-My prince-, he greeted back, nodding. Daeron pressed his lips into a tiny smile, that soon faded when he looked down at his mom again, lightly furrowing is brows.
-Mother, what- what happened to the Dragonpit?-. He suddenly asked, making her lips to part, and her eyes to open wide-. I tried to ask the dragonkeepers, but they seemed sca-
-Brother!-. The King’s sudden call made the two of them to suddenly remember his presence. Alicent and Daeron turned their heads towards him, the two holding the other’s elbows-. You are always more than welcomed here. Your presence always lifts some spirits up…specially mother’s-, Aegon points, sometimes cocking his head from side to side.
Daeron breathes in, and then sighs, chuckling while he faced his brother completely, excited.
-I’m flattered, Your Grace-. The boy nods, shrugging briefly. Alicent closes her lips, facing Aegon too, now as serious as always. The King stares at her for two seconds, and then breathes in, talking again.
-We shall have a banquet this night, on your behalf and honor, brother-. Aegon announces with determination, raising his brows. Alicent quickly furrows hers.
-I’m afraid that’s far from wise, my King-. Dowager Queen speaks, shaking her head with heaviness. Both her sons remain silent, only that the youngest glanced at her with curiosity, and the eldest stared at her with seriousness-. The realm is still grieving-, she pointed, shrugging-. To hold a feast would make seem that-
-Yes, but I am King-. Aegon interrupted her with a clean laugh, wrinkling his eyes and scrunching his nose. Alicent remains blinkless, whilst Daeron made a surprised pout with his lips-…hence I decide when the realm grieves...and when it feasts…-, he cocks his head to a side, smiling.
Ser Criston blinks slowly, staring at the King, and then at the Dowager Queen, who is completely silent. Soon, she slowly closed her lips, gulped, and nodded towards the highest authority of the room: her son.
-Marvelous. So it shall be done!-. Aegon claps, standing up from the throne. Daeron looks up at him with pressed lips, sort of confused and uncomfortable, not liking the way he just treated their mother-. Today, we feast-. The King decided, grinning.
■ ■ ■
Aemond’s thin and hydrated lips were delicately sipping from a golden cup. The prince, as usual, is all dressed in black, covered by leather. He sips and sips, tasting an actual good wine, savoring the age of it.
After some more sips, the prince takes the cup away from his mouth, slowly. He dedicates to look around the hall he’s in. In a great hall of Storm’s End, he’s with people that dine and drink on the honor of his presence, and yet no one truly acknowledges him, not really.
Everyone is either dancing or toasting, drinking or eating. Lord Borros, in the morning of this present day, had arranged a “small breakfast with his closest companions” in the behalf of the prince Aemond. A mere excuse to have wine early, perhaps, but who knows? Again, the wine is good, at least.
Aemond’s night was little pleasant, to be honest. That chamber was cold, even though he left a fire lit the entire evening, and the bed wasn’t as nearly as comfortable as his own in the Red Keep. He hated the bed from last night. Huh, yes, we’re talking ‘bout the same man that had been delighted of sleeping on furs in the floor whilst being on some deserted lonely island, into a hut of wood.
The circumstances, of course, are entirely different. He always slept with the company of his wife on those furs. Here, last night, in Storm’s End, he was alone. He only heard his own breathing and only felt his own touch. Daera’s hands are always warm.
-My prince!-, a hoarse and enthusiastic voice called him.
When The One-Eyed Prince looked up, getting his eye away from the red wine on his cup, he found Lord Borros Baratheon heading towards him; he was not alone. The lord goes with a big smile, and four women behind him, all of them brown-haired of blue eyes. All of the four girls were looking at him. One was curious, one was nervous, one was scared, and one bored.
Susena, Floris, Cass and Maris Baratheon they are, respectively. The ladies of Storm’s End.
Prince Aemond left the golden cup on a table of wood. He clenched his jaw, and tilted his head slightly to a side. Afterwards, he hummed and stood up, feeling a pinch on both his heart and mind at the same time.
He doesn’t want to do this.
But he must.
So, he will.
■ ■ ■
Under the sun of King’s Landing, on her balcony, the quiet Queen Helaena sews a delicate embroidery. The girl’s purple eyes watch at how she sews the nylon with slowness and delicacy, not hurried at all.
She’s embroidering the figure of a white hart stag. She saw one in her dreams last night, and she found it so beautiful and magnificent that she’s now capturing its image with the thread, so as to never forget him. Something she did forget about his dream, unfortunately, is the person she was with. She knows that she saw someone petting the stag, caressing its horns and humming a familiar song, but now Helaena doesn't remember either the person or the song. Maybe continuing to embroider will help her remember, so that's what she has continued doing, although without fruit.
Helaena turns around her head for a second, taking a look to the insides of the room. In there, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera play vividly with their mother’s maid, Claudia. Both twins giggle and shriek with emotion as they play with toys along their nanny, who constantly gives them tickles and makes them to laugh.
The kids’ mother chuckles a little, scrunching her nose with sweetness while looking at them. Soon enough, Claudia became aware of her look, stopping the tickles for a second. While the children laughed, the maid sighed and pressed a smile on her brown lips.
-They’re growing fast, Your Grace-. The woman spoke with awe and dearness. When hearing so, the Queen giggled again, showing all of her teeth.
-Aemond-, Jaehaerys was heard babbling. Claudia chuckled, already used to hearing the prince’s name from the kids’ mouth.
Whilst Claudia returned to play with them, Helaena’s smile became a little crooked, and soon it disappeared from her face. Her heart hurted when she heard her son calling his uncle, who was still away in Storm’s End.
“He should be here, with them. Daera should be too. The kids miss both their uncle and aunt. They should be here, specially today”, Helaena thinks.
The doors of the room are suddenly opened, which made Helaena to flinch on her seat, quickly looking at there with terror. The first person that came to her mind was Aegon, which frightened her. But, against all odds, who came into the room was another brother of hers. Not Aegon, nor Aemond.
-Helaena!-, Daeron smiled hugely when he found her in her balcony, beautifully lighted by the sun of the morning.
She sighed through her nose, briefly raising her brows. She quickly got up of her chair, tiredly, feeling her body heavy, but yet she smiled, scrunching her nose while standing up.
-Sister-. The youngest brother neared to her with open arms. She chuckles a little, halting her steps when he reached her. They held hands, touching only their fingers. Her lips trembled a little-. You’re radiant-, he sighed.
-You have been missed, brother-. Helaena spoke with a tender and soft tone, tilting her head to a side, almost resting her chin on a shoulder of hers.
-I’ve missed you all too-. He smiles shaking his head-. Though it is a shame why I…had to come here today-. The prince lowers his voice, now speaking with a little of sadness. His sister had a similar expression, erasing her smile-. Father was…a good King…-, Daeron mumbles, looking at the floor.
Helaena slightly twist her lips, blinking with softness. When thinking of Viserys, her mind went back to her childhood, back to that time when he called her beautiful, and gave her sweets. Her fondest memory of him. He’ll be missed, at least by two of his children with Queen Alicent.
-Yes-, was all she said, whispering. Daeron looks at her again, soon having a smile back on his face. He grabbed her hands tighter.
-But you’re Queen, sister!-. He spoke with so much joy, surprised, raising his brows. His sister went emotionless, twisting her lips again-. Ah, mother must be so happy-. He tsks, wondering about that.
Helaena hums lowly, taking her hands off him, not wanting to touching him any longer. Daeron, knowing she has certain touch tolerance, only dedicated himself to smile, not offended. She gulped and looked away, not having like his happy statement about her being Queen.
Having grown up mostly away from King’s Landing, and his family, Daeron knows little about his siblings’ real life, very little. He may love them, due to the boy’s pure heart, but doesn’t truly know them, not really.
-Ah, gods, look at them!-. Daeron gasped and opened his eyes big when seeing Helaena’s children, who looked back at him with curiosity, not letting go their toys-. Hello-, he greeted the maid, who bow her head to him, serious-. Oh, wow!-. He whistles, nearing to the children.
Crossing her arms, Helaena smirks a little, staring towards there.
-They’re so grown-. Daeron whispers, shocked, smiling under the curious gazes of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.
-…They turn a year today-. The children’s mother informed, sweetly and proudly, calmed. Her brother gasped, opening his eyes big.
Indeed, it has been a year since Queen Helaena gave birth to her twin firstborns. A year since that night on Driftmark, celebrating Lord Corlys’ name day. A year since all the fuss in the lonely parts of the beach, where prince Lucerys found princes Aemond and Daera coupling in a secret tent. A year since…everything changed forever.
-They’ll love their brother-, Helaena guaranteed, raising her brows with a proud smile.
-What?-, Daeron tilts his head, confused.
His sister giggles and, tiredly, places a hand on her belly, smiling down to it with dearness and exhaustion. Daeron, once again, gasped, letting out a surprised shriek. She chuckled lowly, nodding with her head.
Helaena’s is with child. Once again.
■ ■ ■
Darkness. Pure and whole darkness. If it weren't for the torch that Prince Daemon carries in one of his hands.
The Rogue Prince, at the moment, walks under Dragonstone. He goes through the tunnels of one of the subterranean caves of the island. The air is hot, the breeze inexistent, the echo remarkable. He hears each of the steps he gives. And, the steps of who’s with him.
Rhaena walks right behind her father, tightly held to one of his arms as they advance through the cave. The girl’s scared expression is lighted by the fire near it. She’s sweating, they both are, but the main reason of her sweat is her nerves, and uncertainty.
-Father…-, she whispered in one moment. Feeling her tight hold, Daemon hums. Just because, he thinks about how of his three daughters, Rhaena has always been the one of stronger grip, since she was a babe-…what are we doing here?-, she asks, whispering lowly.
After seeing Daera, Jace and Luke flying away from Dragonstone, everyone found a thing to do, for the errands in the castle are rarely scarce. Prince Daemon, as we may recall, called his youngest daughter to accompany him. She remained silent when realizing they were headed to the Dragonmont, but now, walking under the mountains and hills of her home…Why are they here? Why has he-
-Why have you brought me?-, Rhaena asked, still whispering.
-Even though your step-mother doesn’t see it…-. The prince begins saying, looking forward as they walk-…we’re at war-. He declared, sourly-. ‘Tis time we start acting like it-. Daemon dictates.
His daughter blinked slowly, gulping, and holding his arm tighter. She didn’t understand him fully, for he often talks with riddles -which he ironically hates from other people- but she did understand something that was clearer than water: he wanted to show her something.
From a moment to another, Daemon stopped, making her to stop as well. He turned his head to face her, and she raised hers to do so too, with her lips parted. He watches her in silence, reading the nerves on her eyes.
-From now on, follow me from far-. He ordered, lightly pulling his arm away. The girl instinctively held him tighter, not letting him go-. Rhaena-. Daemon murmured, calmed. She afflicts her throat, slowly letting his arm go. His sleeve is wrinkled. When having nothing to hold on to, she gulped.
Her father simply turned around, and started to walk faster. She gasped, beginning to walk right behind him.
-From far!-, a harsh whisper makes echo in the cave. Rhaena stops talking, gulping again. He kept walking, not looking back at her once. When he was at a considerable distance, she started to walk again, doing it tensely and nervously, always looking around. All she sees is stone-. And stay silent…-. He ordered.
Rhaena holds her own hands over her belly, sometimes scratching her fingers unconsciously. She gulps, and gulps, looking at the vivid flame her father carries with him as he walks, far from her. The girl thinks of her siblings, remembering that time that Jace snaked into one of the caves of the island, and nearly got himself lost. Uf, Nyra scolded him so hard that day, and he was prohibited to fly Vermax for a week. Jace’s hardest days.
Rhaena nearly smile because of her memory, but something got her instantly out of it.
-Drakari pykiros…-, a profound intonation made echo in the cave, coming from her father’s mouth-… Tīkummo jemiros…-. His feet reached stairsteps, walking on them.
Rhaena parted her lips when she heard him singing in High Valyrian. She opened her eyes big with interest, walking a little faster, never losing him out of sight.
-Yn lantyz bartossa-, Daemon sings while he walks up those stairs of stone. Rhaena soon followed him from far, looking at his back with puzzled eyes-. Saelot vāedis-. The prince glances at the floor, seeing how humid it was.
It’s not water, he knows, not from any leak nor dripping. This is steam. Breathing’s steam.
Rhaena walks between two columns of stone that stand perfectly, holding the cave in them. She stared at them with high confusion, and then at the stairs too. She didn’t know there was anything built down here, but the workhand is impeccable…yet so old and ancient. Where are they?
-Hen ñuhā elēnī, perzyssy vestretis-. The prince sings, slowly beginning to bent his knees. Right after the columns, Rhaena stops walking because he did too. She remains with her hands crossed, attentively looking at him-. Se gēlȳn irūdaks…-, Daemon sings beautifully, to her surprise, looking up as he reaches the floor-…Ānogrose…-, his voice was deep.
He placed the torch on the floor. It made echo.
She understand every word he’s saying, she knows he’s singing Hāros Bartossi, as she has seen him doing before, as well as her sisters, but why now, and here? Caraxes is not here, not even close.
-Perzyro udrȳssi…-, Daemon looks forward with open eyes as he slowly stands straight again.
A strange sound starts to be heard from the pure darkness in front of them, though it was not strange to them. Rhaena froze completely in that moment, afflicting her throat when she recognized that sound.
There’s a dragon hiding in the darkness.
-Ezīmptos laehossi…-, the prince looks there with carefulness yet full interest, alerted-. Ahh…-, he intones harmoniously.
Daemon’s voice was muted by the loud noise caused by a dragon that born within the darkness, suddenly lighting all the surroundings when he opened his big mouth to breath a mountain of fire, expulsing it all towards the ceiling of the cave.
Princess Rhaena gasped with terror, opening her mouth and taking two steps back while her eyes opened hugely. Her purple orbs shined when the flames got reflected in them. Her heart nearly stopped beating, but instead it started doing it violently and quickly.
The fire of the dragon lighted himself, showing the Targaryen princes his true colors and appearance, allowing them to see who they were standing in front of. Rhaena gasped time after time, shaking her head while looking up.
Vermithor, The Bronze Fury.
-Hae mērot gierūli…-, Daemon sings softly, almost sweetly, looking at him with no fear on him. Vermithor shrieks with an open mouth, nearing to the prince under his eyes. Breathing fast, Rhaena stares at the dragon’s face with marvel and fright, speechless. He’s so close to her father, ho didn’t even blink-. Se hāros…-, he stares at it with calmness and respect.
The dragon growled menacing, inches away from his face, showing all of his old and long sharp teeth.
-Prūmȳsa sōvīli…-, Daemon shakes his head a little while he sings with pure softness, letting the dragon to take his sing in. Vermithor purred and growled at the same time, looking at him face to face, seeing himself reflected on the prince’s eyes-…Gevī dāerī…-
And Daemon watched himself too in the dragon’s eyes, seeing himself rising his hands towards it, to touch it.
And meanwhile, his daughter stared in shock and awe, realizing that her father -doubtlessly- was preparing the dragon to be claimed by a dragonrider.
■ ■ ■
Fire breather
Winged leader
But two heads
To a third sing
The fires have spoken
From my voice:
And the price has been paid
With blood magic
With words of flame
With clear eyes
To bind the three
To you I sing
As one we gather
And with three heads
We shall fly as we were destined
Beautifully, freely
■ ■ ■
North of Dragonstone the sky is a mix between blue and orange, a lovely sea with gold sprinkles, a beauty to the eye. Not a cloud is around, but two dragons are.
The breeze blows Daera’s white curly mane, looking like a cloud in the middle of so much blue in the sky. Such a strong wind sneaks into her dress, keeping all of her body fresh. The princess, riding her beloved Kalistrox, turns her head, glancing to her right.
Prince Jacaerys rides his dear Vermax, that green dragon the same age as his, with as much calm as he can have in these moments. Though the sky is calmed, he’s not very much. On his mind he goes reciting the terms they’ll take to the Eyrie and to Winterfell. He knows they have to be perfect.
They’re almost arriving to The Vale already, for the wind and clearness of the skies have been the loveliest with the princes and their voyage.
After looking at Jacaerys for some more seconds, Daera sighed deeply and returned her sight forward, slowly closing her eyes and breathing in. She thinks of Aemond. Oh, Aemond.
Rhaenys told her so many things this morning, when they were alone at Jace’s chambers. Her grandmother was nothing but direct and brutally honest. Daera knows it, she just doesn’t want to accept it. Hells, the girl doesn’t even accept that she doesn’t accept it. She swears her husband will eventually see which is the good side, even though he has spent all of their marriage remarking and remarking that he belongs to the other one.
“But this time is different”, is Daera’s argument. Yes, she and him have argued many times about Green and Black, we know that. But now we’re talking about war threats, war times. For the fuck’s sake, is different! Her husband won’t leave her side during these harsh moments. He promised he never would. And she believes him; she believes Aemond is a man of his word.
Daera feels light tears coming up to her eyes, which she closed harder, breathing deeply though her nose. She pleads that everything turns out fine; she knows it will, for it has to. Daera knows there can’t be a version of the story where they do not get out of this one.
Jacaerys and Daera, our princes, are so far from everything. They’re flying above of everything at the moment, so high in the sky, ruling it side by side, as they one day will with the Seven Kingdoms.
Being this far, how would they know that while they fly -while they inhale the fresh air and constantly give each other small smiles- in another part of the gigantic sky the worst of the worst is happening? How would they know that that will break their soul, hearts and sanity when word of it reaches their ears?
Being this far, how would Daera know that Aemond was never a man of his word?
The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.
《 The Invitation's Second Season 》
Masterlist
Warnings: constant swearing, explicit sexual content, mentions of death, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡
■ ■ ■
■ ■ ■
-Aemond!-
We are, at the moment, in another land. We’re not at King’s Landing, nor Driftmark. Hells, we’re not even at Dragonstone.
-Hmm…do you like it, doll?-
-Yes! Fu-…fuck!-
We are not at Lovers Island either, a place we are very fond of. No. But, we indeed are with those lovers owners of the island. In a luxurious and most fresh manor, located in a city full of commerce and tales, we are with them.
So, here is where we are. In Pentos.
The princess lies on the huge bed of their room. There’s not a single cloth on her brown silky body. The only thing she wears is her husband’s mouth, in the middle of her wide-open legs.
-JESUS CHRIST!-, Daera roared when feeling a spicy bite.
-Who- who Is Jesus Christ?-. Aemond questioned, suddenly confused.
-Don’t stop!-, she squealed, pushing his head from behind with one of her hands.
The prince chuckled from deep his throat, reuniting again his thin marvelous lips to his wife’s cunt, which is endlessly and beautifully dripping, covert in desire for him. Daera moans loudly, closing her eyes and sighing with a smile full of pleasure.
-Yes…-, she thanks.
Aemond hums, grabbing and squeezing her thighs strongly as he breathes in deeply, trembling. He sucks her purple clit, sucking it all between his lips, teeth and cheeks, never letting it go. Such pressure made her wife gone to madness, causing her to scream in High Valyrian towards the ceiling, clashing her feet against the soft mattress.
-Gods, Ae…!-. Breathless, she squeals, curving her brows.
He loves her enjoyment. He could feel she’s almost coming, for he knows her to well, so he wanted her to finish with the most glorious of feelings. And, as we know, he’s an expert in granting her this.
She bites her lips while looking at that shiny blue sapphire that stares back at her from the middle of her legs. Daera cries, feeling the damping in there, hot water dripping out of her as the prince’s tongue goes in and out of her whole. She sucks her cheeks, trembling.
Aemond blinks with softness, looking up at her while he massages her thighs with his ten long fingers. He squeezes the leather belt in one of them. Moments then, he places one of those fingers in her hole, sticking his tongue out. For a moment, she felt an emptiness, but this was greatly brief, for two fingers came to fill that empty hole, going inside of her. The prince moaned when hearing the slushy sound his fingering made, while the princess roared, lit in the fire of her great pleasure.
-Yes, yes, yes! Oh fuck- fucks, gods, Aemond!-. Daera twirls in bed, squeezing her own tits as she burns from within. He smirks, licking his lips and moving his fingers endlessly inside of her. Oh, when he curves them, molding them as a hook, grasping her littlest breath away-. FUCK, FUCK!-. She yelled.
The one-eyed prince blinks in awe, mesmerized by her lust. He hums, kissing one of her inner thighs. Then, he sticks his tongue out again, and licks her butthole without stopping the thrusting of his fingers. The white-haired woman laughed in that moment, with no air, squeezing his long white mane between her fingers. She felt a force pulling her chest; she moans.
-Oh-, Daera coos, curving her brows-. Love, I am-
-Come-. He mumbles, as breathless as her, keeping the same rhythm on his fingers. He hears her squealing, so sharply. He sees her twirling, so marvelously-. Come, goddess-. He smirks, narrowing his precious eye.
-Fuck!-, she growls, closing her eyes strongly-. AEMOND, OH dearest fuck-! Oj! OH!-, she throws her head back.
Aemond saw the Seven Heavens when, at the moment of reaching her glorious point, she harshly closed her legs and trapped his head in the middle of them, squeezing him. The prince moaned along her, taking the chance to suck again on her clit, feeling it beating and pulsing as a heart. Daera cries and laughs out loud at the same time, having the greatest of climaxes, while her husband, breathless, granted her some last seconds of full ecstasy.
Moments then, he came to breath again, when she opened her legs, letting them loose and wide. Daera’s chest comes up and down as she regains her breathing, having a satisfied smile on her shiny face. Aemond opens his eye, face to face with his work of art. Her cunt, wet and swollen. Beautiful.
-Fuck…-, the princess sighs, tired. Her husband hums, placing a dozen kisses on her legs and inner thighs. The last one was on her clit, which made her laugh, naughty-. Come here, handsome…-, she whispers, biting her lips.
Aemond smirks, licking his lips, and climbing on top of her. He crawls with his hands and knees, slowly. Daera giggles and raises her hands, meeting his boney cheekbones. She caresses them as he looks at her from above, smiling. The princess bites her lips, once again, lowly moaning while she stares at the maker of all her orgasms.
It is just dawning here, in Pentos. The room whole is painted by a strong golden sun that comes from the huge balcony of the room. Most of the city still sleeps, while the other part already wanders around the street. They, nevertheless, attend to their own matters.
Perhaps it is not necessary to clear it up but, just so that we’re sure…we are in the past. For this is just a memory, one of the many of their Seventh Heaven.
They woke up at the same time, miraculously. They planned on to get breakfast but, as we just witnessed, The One-Eyed Prince didn’t need to go far to find a proper meal. Neither did The Rogue Princess, who before this also had breakfast with his body. His cock, to be blunt.
-Ouh, to wake up like this every day…-. Daera wishes, funnily, while he snuggles next to her, both naked. He chuckles, raising his brows and nodding-. I would always go to sleep if knowing we’d wake like this-, she jested.
-I’d have no problem in fulfilling your wishes, while we’re here-. He mumbles cockily, making her to smile. He breathes softly, staring at her gorgeous face, which is all illuminated by the golden sun, as well as his. She smiles, giggling-…My wife-, he mumbled, placing a kiss in one of her strands of white hair.
-Ah, my husband-. Daera sighed too, placing both her hands under her chin, endlessly looking at him. With a light smirk, he eyes the blue sapphire rings on her fingers. Soon, she glances at them too, immediately smiling wider-. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?-. She questions, mumbling.
-Yes-, he quickly responds, calmly. Aemond starts to rub his fingers against hers, caressing them with love. The princess stares deeply at him, in love, giving a soft blink.
-How did you know the exact measure of my fingers, love?-. She questioned in a low voice, interested. Forming a calmed tiny smirk, Aemond neared his lips to her hands, and placed a kiss on both rings. Mesmerized, she looked at him with loving eyes.
-Luckily, sometimes your sleep is too deep-. The prince answered with taunt. His wife instantly laughs, making her face to shine. He chuckles as well, scrunching his nose for a second-…We were in our island, and you were tired after we drank, and made love-. He goes mumbling, and she listens with a fairy-like gaze-. It was not a hard task, to grab your hand, see your fingers and…count the lovely inches in them-, Aemond murmurs with softness, caressing both rings.
-Every sentence you speak, Aemond…-she sighs, closing her eyes for a second-…sounds like poetry, did you know that?-. Daera whispers, mesmerized. Flattered, he giggles a little, pressing his lips while staring at her.
After seconds of lovely looks, he leans front, and kisses the two rings again under her enamored violet eyes. While kissing them, Aemond’s hand traveled to her thighs, and there he caressed the leather belt wrapped in the right one.
-Oh…-, the one-eyed sighs. She hums lowly, sucking her inferior lip for a second, not taking away her eyes from his.
-I will never take them off-, Daera promises-. Nor my rings, nor my belt, for they are yours as well… As well as myself-. The princess declares. The prince stares at her with deepness and dearness, keeping silent-. I want to always have a mark of you in me-, she confesses with no shame, raising her brows.
-You shall have it-. He mumbles, nodding-. As I shall have yours as well-, he nods to a side, referring to his leather eyepatch, the one made for her to him. Daera smiles lovingly, nodding for a few moments.
-When we are away from each other again, when I’m back at my home and you back at yours…they’ll be our marks of each other-. She murmurs with dearness, looking at the deep violet ocean on his eye. Aemond hums, sighing through his nose. He couldn’t agree more.
-…Never take them off…-, Aemond asked, caressing her curly mane.
-Never-, Daera quickly agreed, narrowing her eyes.
Afterwards, they both start to grin. Husband and wife, merely inches away, smiled lovingly to each other, breathing each other’s air, and feeling each other’s skin. The both of them chuckled, going on for a kiss.
■ ■ ■
Aemond’s only eye stays fixated in a blank, for he is lost on his mind, deeply. His lips are parted while his breathing is slow, and heavy. His face is illuminated why a dim fire near him. The chair he's seated in, of wood, is cold as metal, and uncomfortable.
Just moments ago, we were in the prince’s thoughts. In his memories, to be exact. The image keeps repeating on his mind, once and once again. Daera smiling under the sun of Pentos, naked, warmly, approaching to give his mouth a kiss.
Every warm image fades away from his mind when a violent and loud thunder broke out in the sky. Aemond flinched on his seat, pressing his lips and turning around his head to look at the window of stone that remains in the other side of the room. From his seat, he sees lightnings coming and shining every two seconds, and more thunders heard from not too far. Outside is raining harshly, since hours, and hours.
The prince gulps, turning his head back around. He looks up to the shelf above the fire, where some of his belongings are. He only looked at his patch, his leather patch, the one his wife made for him. He has taken it off, for he’s almost going to sleep. Though, alas, a sixth sense of him is letting him know that perhaps he won’t get any sleep tonight.
Aemond blinks slowly, standing up from the ugly chair. He takes the patch, and caresses it with his two thumbs. He gulps, once again, thinking of his love, the princess Daera. When doing so, he can’t but to sigh with heaviness, wondering a thousand and one things.
By now, she probably already knows it all, about Aegon’s coronation, the threat of war. Perhaps his grandsire already visited Dragonstone and told them the terms. “How did it go?” he wonders. “How does she feel? What is she thinking? What is she thinking of me? Does she…despise me, miss me or hate me?”, the prince opens his eye big while thinking of this.
The Targaryen man growls, lowly, returning the eye to the shelf, and walking away from it. Crossing his hands behind his tensed back, he starts walking all around the room, thoughtful, stressed. He walks pass the big bed, the big bookshelf, another big chair. Everything is here is too big, he has noticed. No delicacy or classiness, much less an effort in an agreeable interior design. Nothing like his home, in The Red Keep. But, right now, he’s away from there.
With Aemond Targaryen, we are at Storm's End. Bastión de Tormentas. The seat of the formidable and strong House Baratheon.
Aemond arrived after midday, right before the moon replaced the sun, though in this place it feels and looks like it is always nigh time, for the heavy clouds of storm barely allow any sun ray to pass. "Helaena would hate this place", was one of the first things that crossed Aemond's mind when flying through such dark skies.
And, despite the coldness of the place, the prince turned out to receive a very warm welcome. Ignoring the fact that more than half of the courtyard guards urinated themselves when Vhagar landed, everyone looked surprised and amazed when his arrival was announced. Were they waiting for it, perhaps?
On the Baratheons behest, it was most surprising to have the prince under his roof just hours after receiving word from his home, for just hours before his arrival they had learned that they had a new King, the prince's older brother, Aegon. As for the other side of the coin, they haven't even heard a word from King Viserys' supposed heir, princess Rhaenyra.
Borros Baratheon was a man of much different character than his father. "Lord Boremund was stone, hard and strong and unmoving", Queen Alicent told his son before seeing him off. "Lord Borros was the wind that rages and howls and blows this way and that", she described to him.
Though his mother told him as much of the Lord he was to meet with, prince Aemond had been uncertain what sort of welcome he would receive when he set out, but Storm's End welcomed him with a feasts and hunts and jousting. Two of each in only one day, just for the prince to enjoy.
Lord Borros is an eternally proud man, and he nearly clapped with joy when seeing that he had a prince of the realm under his roof, and his dragon. And, oh! with what great offers King Aegon II sent his brother to his land.
The servants served a fine supper only for the prince and the lord. They dined in a warm great hall and, in there, Aemond let him know what he was after.
-Companionship, my lord-. His hoarse voice spoke with mannerism and delicacy. Seated in front of him across the table, Borros narrowed his eye, really interested-, between our houses. To take our causes, and mold them as one-. The prince says, calmly.
-And which cause would be yours, if I may ask? -. The lord asks with a smirk on his face.
-To preserve my brother's kingship as what it is: his birth right-. Aemond states, being carefully listened by all the men in the table-. It was my father's final wish for him to be seated on the throne. And I swear this to you, as I witnessed it myself-. He says, and kind of lies, for he knows of Viserys' final wish only by his mother’s mouth. But, to be frank, Aemond does not care 'bout lying if it is about his shitty father.
-Ah...-, Borros nods slowly, curious. He, then, narrows his eyes, smirking again. He's so bluntly interested, which Aemond looked with a fake smile, pressing his lips-. And my cause, what would that be?-. He questions.
-Protection, of course, from the Crown-. The prince raises his brows. The Baratheon lord closes his lips, fading his smile a little.
-Protection, yes...-, he murmurs, almost losing interest. Aemond hums, narrowing his sharp eye, and lifting his cheeks into a cocky smirk.
"Forgive me, please, Daera"
-And, as I understand, a fine Lord always looks after a fine betrothal for his heirs-. The prince adds with confidence, raising his brows.
In that moment, Lord Borros looked up with shiny eyes, lusting for the proposal the prince just spoke out.
-I have four daughters-, the lord told the prince, who gulped for a second, playing with his fork under the table-. Choose any one you like-, he spoke with total disposition, nodding.
-Hmm-, Aemond fades his smirk a little, thinking of his wife-. It will...be my honor, my Lord-. He nods.
-Cass is oldest, and she already flowered, but Floris is prettier. Ellyn is very fond of children, but if it's a clever wife you want, there's Maris-. Borros speaks fastly and proudly of his girls while he sips of his ale under the silent eye of the prince.
Aemond just listens, not even nodding. He didn't like any of those names, and he's more than sure he won't like any of those girls either.
During the supper, Lord Borros came to speak a truth only for the both of them to hear: Rhaenyra had taken House Baratheon for granted for too long.
-Aye, princess Rhaenys is kin to me and mine, some great-aunt I never knew was married to her father, but the both of them are dead, and Rhaenyra...she's not Rhaenys, is she?-. His lordship told Aemond, cocking his head.
-Hmm-, he just hummed, shaking his.
-I have nothing against women-. Lord Borros went on to say-. I love my girls, for a daughter is a precious thing-. He confesses, with true dearness shining on his eyes when speaking of his children. In that moment, Aemond gulped, thinking about the Moon Tea he made Daera drink. Alyssa. He shivered harshly-. But a son, ahh...should the gods ever grant me a son of my own blood, I'll tell you, my prince, Storm's End would pass to him, not to his sisters-. He shook his head from side to side, wiggling a firm finger in the air-. Why should the Iron Throne be any different?-,
Aemond blinks slowly, keeping silence. Daera was promised queenship, he recalls, for she's "wife" to Rhaenyra's heir, Jace. None of the three will ever sit the throne now, he thinks. Aemond wants to dance of joy when thinking so about his half-sister and her bastard son, but he has to confess to himself that Daera would have been a great Queen, perhaps the greatest of their line. But we cannot dream of that, for is no longer her destiny nor reality, and he knows it, as neither is his to be King.
And with a royal marriage in the offing...Rhaenyra's cause was lost, she would see that when she learned that she had lost Storm's End. Lord Borros will tell her so himself, he promised the prince, all drunk and happy.
-"Bow down to your brother, aye" I'll tell her!-. Borros swears, raising his cup. Aemond chuckles a little, raising his as well, and liking that image on his mind-. "It's for the best". You see, my prince, my girls would fight with each other sometimes, the way girls do, but I see to it that they always make peace afterward...-, he says.
Aemond sipped his wine with doubt in that moment, thoughtfully. Oh, he's afraid that his siblings and Rhaenyra are nothing like Lord Borros' daughters. He hopes Rhaenyra accepts those terms, because if she doesn't...well, better to not even think of it.
Lord Borros and Prince Aemond made arrangement for the next morning, to hag about dates and dowries, and for him to finally meet the four girls, and to choose which one he'll have to take as wife, and to welcome on his bed.
Borros gave him a room, one of the finest of the castle, and now here he is, supposed to be asleep. But he's far away from dreaming. He fears he'd dream of Daera, or the child they never had, or of war. He fears he'd dream of all of them.
With slow steps, Aemond approaches to the window of the chamber. Silently, he stares at the violent rain outside. As loud as it is, he can still hear Vhagar's snores from outside the walls of the castle, nesting and sleeping under the cold cruel drops.
While looking at the storm, he can't but remember again that warm morning in Pentos, again. He sees Daera in his mind, again. He sees them both naked, hugging and kissing each other. He almost heard her sweet laugh.
Aemond gulps with pain, pressing his lips, and looking down to the floor, thinking of her.
-Daera...-, he whispers her name-...How are you, my love?-
■ ■ ■
Daera remains blinkless. Her face is moveless and her expression is cold. Her fiery eyes stare down and only down. Her body is tense, and her fist are tighten at the sides of it.
At her left and right, Jace and Baela stand the same way, as silent and attentive as hers. Steps behind them, each of their dragons stand quiet as well. Kalistrox, Vermax and Moondancer remain tense and ready to act. They're all looking at one same thing.
From the height of one of the tallest mountains of Dragonstone, they are looking at that lonely galleon that flies a banner of a three-headed green dragon. She approaches to the port quickly, helped by the strong cold breezes of the island.
In the bridge that unites the castle with the port, Prince Daemon Targaryen, the White Cloak Ser Erryk Cargyll and a dozen guards wait for the Greens' arrival. With his hands resting on the handle of his sheathed sword, Daemon paces back and forth quickly, impatient. He looks like a caged cat. A caged dragon. Now that's more dangerous.
-Son of a bitch...-, Daera pressed her fists stronger while looking at that green dragon. It is hideous. It is ugly. It is Aegon's-. Piece of scum!-, she murmurs with rage. She sees that no cannon blast comes from the ship, nor any other sort of weapon.
Baela lifted her chin up, always keeping sight of the entrance bridge of the castle, where her father awaits with the guards. Jacaerys constantly looks at the skies, looking for any foreigner dragon, but finding none, thank the gods.
The three older siblings of the family keep their eyes open at all times, sighting the skies, the grounds, and the seas.
Meanwhile, the other children had been sent to their rooms. They are all gathered in Joffrey's, at the moment. Joff, Rhaena, Luke, the twins and two midwives are inside. Four guards outside, at all times.
-Gods-, Lucerys sighs, as nervous as a goat, walking from one side of the room to another. Rhaena does exactly the same, but calmer, keeping a serene serious expression.
The twins eat, while Joffrey keeps seated on the bed, with his head down. The boy is really sad, still grieving the babe his mother lost this morning. His siblings are still with that pain too, but are also more attending to the happenings of the moment.
-Gods-, Luke sighs. Rhaena raises her head, paying attention to him-. Heavens, I should have gone with them!-. He tsks, stressed.
-Luke! Rhaenyra ordered you to remain with us!-. She remembers, raising her brows.
-But- but why?! I- I'm a dragonrider too, Rhaena!-. He points out, never halting his nervous walking. Joffrey raises his head, looking at him with teary eyes.
-Keep calm-, his betrothed sighed-. Everything will be fine!-. She promises heartfully.
-Wait, I- I am a dragonrider too-. Joffrey spoke from a second to another, hopeful.
Both his siblings turned to look at him, and then sighed, sharing a tired and worried look.
Back in that high mountain, the three siblings watch attentively the people that are now heading towards prince Daemon and the guards. Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Orwyle, the White Cloak Ser Arryk Cargyll, and a dozen and a half guard.
For a moment, for a brief moment, Daera feared who would come off of that ship. She feared to see Aemond coming down of it, walking to face her father with his grandsire. Oh, Daemon would have immediately taken his head, that's for sure. But her husband stayed back at King's Landing, or that's what she thinks.
They're so far in the mountain that they cannot hear their voices, perhaps only some echoes. Jacaerys narrows his eyes, glancing at the sky, and then at them again.
-Well, they're not fighting-. Baela mumbles, attentive.
-Not yet, at least-. Jace responds, cocking his head.
-That disappoints me-. Daera grunts, looking at there at all times. Her husband snorted.
The three of them, and the three dragons as well, turned their heads to the other side of the island. From there, Syrax made act of presence in the most powerful way, shutting the Greens' mouth at once. Otto and his people stared at the sky with hidden fright, watching the dragon getting closer and closer.
-Fucking burn them already, Nyra-, the elder sister wishes.
-Daera-, the elder brother scolded.
-What?-, the younger sister defends her, making him to sigh.
Rhaenyra walked through them as if they were no threat, not being afraid of them. Afterwards, she faced them for the first time, showing them her crown, telling them her name.
-I'm Queen Rhaenyra now-. The children kind of hear that echo. Baela smirked, nodding in silence.
They started to talk, apparently. Daera eyes everything and, for a second, she fixed her gaze on Ser Erryk, who stands alongside her father. The princess notices a man just like him standing by Otto's side. The Cargyll Twins are together but apart at the same time. Daera gulped, finding it incredibly sad. But, well, she finds herself in a pretty similar situation as well, save that her husband isn't here.
They all flinch when seeing Nyra suddenly walking towards Otto, getting dangerously close.
-Mother-, Jace instantly gasps, and Vermax squealed.
Rhaenyra plucked Otto's pin of Hand of The King off his suit, just to threw it right in the ocean, yelling something to his bare face.
-Fucking traitor!-
Daera nods, anxious but excited, desiring to hear that command from the Queen to take all of the traitors’ head. "Come on...what is she waiting for?"
The Grand Maester of the Greens approach towards The Hand and The Queen, something the siblings carefully watched at. Some kind of paper was handed to their mother, which confuse them greatly.
-Can't Otto Hightower read their own terms?-. Baela scoffs, furrowing her brows.
-Then what they were talking about for so long, before?-. Jace questions with anxiety.
-This is being too much talk, in fact, they should be killed at once!-. Daera growls with her fists tight, pressing them and watching at Otto with deep hate.
-Sisters, we should not be the first one to draw blood. It would be the worst for us-. Jacaerys pointed, raising his brows with insistence. Daera just grumbles, shaking her head.
-And what assures that they haven't already?-, Baela answers back, with the same distrust of her sister, who just stayed silent, staring down at them.
Jacaerys sighs through his nose, closing his lips, and not saying anything anymore.
And from a moment to another, Daemon took out Dark Sister from its sheath, and was immediately copied by both his men and Otto's. The children in the mountain immediately flinched, feeling their heart skipping a beat.
-Fuck!-. Daera takes a quick step back.
-Hells!-. Baela flinches, while Jace gasped and automatically reached for his sword.
-Ser Erryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure myself!-. Daemon's raged echo was as clear as loud.
Syrax rose her chest, opening her mouth to roar with discontent and warning, opening her wings. While everybody looked at the yellow dragon, Daera walked backwards with her throat afflicted, and then turned around, running.
-Dae- Daera!-. Jace glanced at her for a second, to then instantly look back at his mother while Baela breathes with worriness.
In five seconds, Daera climbed to Kalistrox's back, taking off the ground. They left from behind, directly towards the clouds, so no one but them saw them. It was all too fast, and they got lost into the clouds right when Rhaenyra put an end to the threat of quarrel.
-No!-. The Queen ordered to her husband and men.
Jace and Baela keep in their stations, as tense as a rock, attentive to any suspicious move from the enemy, but they were all frozen. Seconds then, they see Daemon placing his sword down, and looking at his feet with heaviness and rage.
-Good...-, Jace whispers, fearing bloodshed.
Rhaenyra turned around, and started to leave, instantly followed by Daemon, whose eyes can't be any angrier nor more upset. He was thirsty for blood, and so were his daughters, Jace noted.
After all danger was gone, Syrax roared and took off from the bridge, flying above of them while heading to her nest. Baela followed the yellow beast for a few seconds with her purple eyes, and then she met Jace's brown.
-Let's go see mother-. The boy orders, raising his brows.
-Yes-, she quickly agrees, taking a last glance to the skies, which were clear.
Minutes later, the bridge and the outsides of Dragonstone were empty, once again, no one but guards in there.
The Greens have sailed again, heading back to King's Landing. The crew is silent as everyone do their assigned work. But, in a determined moment, they all stopped doing so when a strange sound started to be heard.
Otto furrows his brows, parting his lips and quickly turning around. He knows that sound by heart. Dragon's wings.
From a moment to another, the clouds got cut by sharp golden wings, and the air whistled as The Golden Ray flew in it, reflecting the sun in his whole immense body. On his back, the princess Daera mounts him, looking down at them with eyes sharper than Valyrian steel.
The Hand of The King gasped in that moment, petrified, while his unit yelled and pointed at the sky with terror.
-DRAAGON!-, Ser Arryk Cargyll warned, loudly and strongly.
Daera presses her lips with poison, going as fast as the wind, directly to their pathetic ship, staring at their ugly green banner. She breathes in and out multiple times, grunting. She wishes to yell, to burn them, to kill them.
Sir Otto gulps, walking backwards while The Golden Ray flies directly to them, never ceasing his speed. He's almost starting to pray. He meets her fierce eyes from the distance. They're burning.
But Rhaenyra has given an order. And Daera will listen to her Queen.
She let out a raged grunt, pulling Kalistrox's horns and making him to change directions. The Golden Ray roared, passing right by the ship as he did. The whole craft wiggled abruptly in the water, from side to side, making most of the men to fall on their knees within a second.
Otto grabbed himself to firm wood, breathing fastly. He looked up to the golden dragon, and he saw how his rider threw something from her place, throwing it so violently and quickly from the skies. Then, that thing ends up just meters away from the ship.
Kalistrox roars as he flaps his wings away from there, disappearing in the skies again within two seconds, taking his angry rider with him.
Breathing fastly, Lord Hightower runs with trembling legs towards the other side of the ship as this one keeps rocking, still agitated by the pass dragon's nearness.
He looked into the sea, wondering what was what she threw. And, stuck on a wet rock the size of a horse saddle, was what she had catapulted from the clouds. Otto narrows his eyes, raising a hand to call men of his while still looking at it.
A leather belt.
■ ■ ■
After the first tense meeting between the Blacks and the Greens, on Dragonstone’s bridge, Queen Rhaenyra has gone to attend to her baby children, Viserys and Aegon, exclusively by herself. She gave orders even to the midwives, to not interrupt her nor come into the room. Such orders were also directed to her husband, prince Daemon.
Everybody was expecting for something to happen. So, right now, the castle is on hold.
Princess Daera is standing on her bedroom’s balcony, all by herself. A fresh strong breeze blows both her mane and dress, caressing the wounds in her naked arms and shoulders. Daera sighs, perceiving every inch of her body. She hasn’t stopped feeling a lack of pressure in her right thigh since she took that belt off it. It’s like an…emptiness.
The belt is no longer with her; she threw it in the ocean, near the Greens, right where it belongs. She didn’t want it to mean something, she wasn’t even sending a message, no. She just…wanted it off, away, and to never see it again. All the memories attached to that belt, she didn’t need those memories wrapped in her skin, not now that they hurt her.
Daera wonders, “was it the belt that was aching me so, or the knowing of who it belongs to? …My husband”. “Was it the belt I wanted to get rid of, or…was it him?”. When thinking so, she pressed her lips with great strength, not bearing such and blunt and hurtful question.
“I want to get rid of Aemond”. The princess cannot make herself believe it, much less say it. She guls strongly, feeling tears coming up to her violet eyes. Daera sobs, curving her brows, and placing her hands on her belly.
If he only knew how much pain he’s causing, how much damage. He made her to drink Moon Tea, and their dream child became a never-to be-child. The same happened with her stillborn baby sister. Aemond and his family placed Aegon on the throne, and that killed Visenya. He has taken her child, her sister, her family’s crown.
Daera sniffs again, shaking her head from side to side, crying in the silence of the balcony, in the breeze noise.
She is so sad. “I am so sad”. This is darkness, pure darkness the one she’s in. And yet, she isn’t allowing herself to think of the word hate. She doesn’t hate him, even if she should. Daera knows that she holds no hate for him because when she thinks of him, she cries because the despair of wanting for him to see the truth, to regret his doings, to ask for forgiveness, to change sides. To be by her side, forever.
Daera thinks is impossible for her to hate Aemond. And, so, she hates herself for that.
She knows of the hard life her husband has have to life, she knows few people has been kind to him, but she has always spoken her mindset to him about this. “Be better than them, not worst”. Aemond, of course, never seemed to completely agree to that. Now we’re explicitly seeing that in fact he didn’t. “But…what if he does?”, she hopes in the deepness of her heart. “What if he gives Aegon up, in time, before all this escalate to worst scenarios?” Though, what could be worse than this? Viserys, Visenya and Alyssa; they’re all dead.
Daera looks up at the night sky, seeing the starts shining brighter than ever thanks to the tears on her eyes. The princess sobs with weakness, tired, looking at Meleys and Moondancer flying above the castle. Her lips tremble as she thinks of everything at once.
Whilst a side of her mind wonders about all this questions, the other side keeps imagining about how it was, how it looked, Aegon’s coronation. The mere image of him seated in The Iron Throne brough nausea to her stomach, which she held in the middle of a sob, closing her eyes.
How was it? Was Aemond happy, fulfilled? Did Helaena said something against it? Were the twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, in the coronation as well? How did the subjects react? Are they happy? Were they mad? Did someone scream Rhaenyra’s name out loud? Did someone cry Viserys’ death? Did Alicent? Did any of his children? Did Aegon smiled when having the crown placed on his head? Did Aemond root for him?
When picturing her cousin smiling with the Conqueror’s crown on his head, Daera nearly gagged, holding her belly again, and shaking her head from side to side, feeling sick. If she isn’t hating Aemond now, then she probably never will, because how could she picture him clapping midst Aegon’s coronation, and not having extreme desire of killing him right in that moment?
Daera sobs with pain, feeling her lips trembling.
And then, the door is knocked. She instantly flinches, opening her eyes and quickly wiping away her tears, she gulps and clears her throat, accommodating her dress.
-Coming!-, she answered firmly, not wanting anyone to know that she has been crying-. I’m going!-, she smirks tinyly, walking towards the door.
She thanked the heavens that someone had knocked the door, because she wasn’t over at all. After wondering about all the things that already happened, she planed on to suffer while wondering what was to happen in the future. Thank the gods, she didn’t have time for that.
Daera clears her throat, opening the door.
-Yes?-, she smiles.
Such smile didn’t last long, for she faded it away at the moment of seeing Ser Erryk, alone, standing outside of her quarters. He immediately bowed his head down. She afflicts her throat, bemused.
-Princess-, he greets with extreme respect, still bowed.
-Up, soldier. What the fuck do you want?-. Our Daera, as sweet as ever, asks.
As we know, the princess has been predisposed to the White Cloak ever since she learned that the prince he used to protect, Aegon, raped Helaena's maid, Dyana. Ser Erryk knew, and told no one.
-My princess-, he murmurs, giving a salute with his head, rising again. She looks at him with cold eyes, crossing her hands over her chest.
-Speak, if you are to speak-. The woman commanded, raising her brows, irritated. She watches her sky-blue eyes, which wandered around her face for a quick second before he deeply breathed in, clenching his shoulders on his big silver armor.
-The Queen has called her Council to gather at once, in The Chamber of The Painted Table-. Ser Erryk informs, and she quickly cocked her head.
-Good-. Within a second, Daera walks out of her room, and he quickly drew himself away so they wouldn’t touch each other. The princess slammed the door closed, walking with firmness and quickness-. Has she said something yet?-, she questions, only looking front.
-Not more than informing she’s about to detail her encounter with Lord Otto Hightower, princess-. Ser Erryk answers with seriousness as they quickly walk through the multiple hallways of the castle.
-Hmm-, she nods. Silently, walking behind her, Erryk eyes her arms for a second, seeing the scars in them. He gulps, almost ashamed, recalling that night. Daera blinks, thoughtful for a second-…Your brother was with Lord Hightower, yes?-. Daera asks, serious.
-Yes, princess-. The Ser answers immediately, nearly with no emotion on his voice. Daera gulped briefly, knowing that there has to be a seriously sad feeling on both the twins’ hearts. Such a shame, really.
They keep walking. And, while doing so, the princess starts to almost physically feel some eyes watching the wounds of her arms. And the only eyes in the hallway, besides hers, are his. So, from a moment to another, she turned around, facing him.
Ser Erryk had to apply a mystical force to stop his body so that he didn’t clash with the princess, who raised her face to look at him with a daring expression. He goes mute, not expecting such deep eyes nailed on him.
-I know my wounds are there, Ser, I do not need your eyes to remind it to me-. She mocks him with taunt, clenching her jaw. Erryk parts his lips, feeling the sea breeze on his forehead.
-My sincerest apologies, princess-. He said, nobly, as a soldier should speak. She hums, lowly, staring at him-. I am sorry-. The knight repeated, this time slower.
Daera narrows her violet eyes, cocking her head to a side.
-Does it shame you, is that it, Ser? To know that my wounds were painted by your prince?-. Daera taunts, mumbling with mocking. She noticed his eyebrows coming down, furrowing above his blue eyes-. Oh, please, don’t say that now he’s your King-, she whispers.
Ser Erryk stood still, looking back at her at all times. The Targaryen princess’ mockery would normally make every man to look down, if not run away, especially to a knight of the realm. But he’s standing his ground. Good wood, she confesses to herself.
-I have a Queen, princess-. Ser Erryk corrected, so politely and well-spoken, not falling into her judgmental traps. Daera closes her lips, listening to him. He breathes through his nose, looking at those purple eyes. He could tell she has been crying-. And I guard someone else now-. The knight declared, serious.
Daera narrows her eyes, curious. She leaned her head away, scoffing for a quick moment, confused. The princess hums, taking two steps back. He took two steps front.
She gasps.
-No-, Daera shakes her head, walking three steps more back. Ser Erryk took three steps forward immediately. Her soul left her body-. FUCKING HELLS, NO!-
■ ■ ■
Everyone at The Chamber of The Painted Table turned their heads when the doors are suddenly opened with violence. The lords furrowed their brows and the royal family raised theirs. Princess Daera arrives with smoky ears and angry eyes. Behind her, Ser Erryk silently stands, looking at her with a blank face.
-I will not have this!-. The princess arrives with complains, walking into the room with a raised finger.
Rhaenyra sighed heavily, pressing her lips, and looking at the girl with her brows raised.
-Daera-, she warns. From a corner of the room, Rhaenys watches the scene with amusement, completely silent.
-I do not need myself a sworn protector! I never have!-. Daera declares, walking towards her with a troubled expression, tired. Nyra immediately shook her head.
-Well, now you do-. Rhaenyra speaks with simplicity, placing a hand in the Painted Table, looking attentive to it. Daera snorts, still agitated.
-Whose idea was that?!-, she questions.
-Mine-, her step-mother quickly answered, looking at her again. Daera shushes, parting her lips with doubt, embarrassed by having a knight sworn to her, this of all knights-. You need protection, a sworn protector, Daera, and your siblings as well, and…! yours is Ser Erryk-. Rhaenyra dictated with a firm voice, wiggling her head while speaking, and glancing again to the maps.
-But…-, Daera looks around and, in that moment, she realized that all of her siblings had a knight by their side. Ser Lorent is with Baela, Ser Denyss with Luke, Ser Abin with Rhaena and Ser Torres with Jace. She doesn’t know it, but Joffrey has two protectors to his name. And, by her side then, is Ser Erryk.
Daemon, as present as he may be in the room, seems to not be paying the smallest attention to his daughter, or to anyone really. The Rogue Prince keeps reading the table, mumbling things to himself, constantly humming lowly, plotting schemes and wars on his mind.
-Gods, Nyra-. Daera sighed, about to complain again.
-That’ll be it, Daera-. Rhaenyra quickly interrupted her, looking at her by the side of her eye.
Daera held her breath, looking at her too. It was not only her stepmother who ordered her to make silence, but her Queen too. So, grinding her teeth, Daera kept silence.
-Hm…-, she walks away, leaving Nyra’s side. She just sighed through her nose, crossing her hands over her flat belly. Just this morning it was still swollen with child.
-The Greens came with terms from King’s Landing, delivered by Otto Hightower, this evening-. As her Black Council was already complete, Rhaenyra didn’t wait a second to start talking. Everybody looked at her, including Daemon, who pressed his thin dry lips. Daera walks towards her siblings, being followed by her Sworn Protector. While she approaches, Luke stares at her with parted lips, timid-. They…employed great persuasion, and reasoning, when making such terms-. She confesses, raising her brows.
-They didn’t, they were just talking shit-. The Rogue Prince scoffs with a sharp burlesque voice, nearly rolling his eyes.
Lucerys looks at Daera, who calmly placed herself between Rhaena and Jace, listening to their Queen. Luke gulps, briefly licking his lips while staring at his sister. As surprising as it may sound, he and Daera haven’t talked since their strong discussion of this morning, during breakfast. They’ve barely spoken a word to each other, for the day was exhaustingly “busy”. They’ve never been this silent between them.
-What are the terms?-. Baela asks, interested, with her hands crossed over her belly. Daera hums, wanting to know as well as Jace, who lifted his chin up.
The Queen remained with her lips parted, thinking. Seconds then, she breathed in, opened her mouth, and let her council to know the terms brought by The Greens.
Rhaenyra’s possession of Dragonstone would be confirmed, which will pass to her trueborn son, Jacaerys, upon her death.
Jace stayed blinkless, clenching his jaw. His mother raised her brows towards him while speaking. He blinks, just one time, briefly shaking his head. His wife and him shared an uncomfortable expression, glancing at each other.
Lucerys would be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon.
Luke gulped strongly, parting her lips. He turned around his head, finding Rhaenys’ eyes already placed on him. She immediately looked down, tense. The boy, nervous, looks at his betrothed, who looked back at him with hopeful eyes.
Viserys and Aegon, the twins, would be given places in Aegon II’s court. Aegon The Younger as The Elder’s squire, and Viserys as his cupbearer.
All the siblings flinched in that moment. Baela’s face shrinked with disgust, Jacaerys placed his fists on the table, Rhaena stuttered, Luke shook his head within a gasp, and Daera let out a great only laugh. Their father, Daemon, grunted under his breath, impatient.
Any knight or lord who conspired against Aegon’s ascent would be pardoned.
Ser Erryk pressed his lips, fearless, lifting his chin up. Daera looked at him by the side of her eyes, for a second, seeing his lack of intimidation, or desire of pardon. The princess, then, looks back at The Queen.
-Interesting terms, your grace…-. Maester Gerardys mumbled, doubtful.
-Do not lie, Maester, they’re dog shite-. Daera spat with venom, disgusted. Rhaenyra sighed and placed two fingers on the table, shaking her head.
-Aye-, Daemon fastly agree.
-What do you mean? They’re very generous, I think!-. Rhaena immediately points. The lords around them narrow their eyes, wanting to voice their opinions.
-They’re pity terms, and no more-. Jacaerys dictated with a firm tone. His wife instantly nodded, supporting his saying.
-They are terms, true terms-. Queen Rhaenyra points with certainty, cocking her head to a side.
-Wait- you…you aren’t planning on accepting them, are you, your Grace?-. Princess Daera asked, narrowing her eyes. Daemon hummed, shaking his head.
Rhaenyra chose not to look at anyone. With a finger placed over King’s Landing on the map, the Queen stares at said place with thoughtfulness, hearing all of the different opinions.
-…I understand the desire of avoiding bloodshed-. Prince Jacaerys speaks with reason, keeping his jaw clenched-, but having my little brothers as The Usurper’s servants will feel like no victory to us-, he declares, serious.
His mother blinks, looking at King’s Landing.
-Bloodshed is not even of essence-. Princess Daera denied, taking a step forward. Ser Erryk and her husband look at her, listening. Daemon sighs through his nose, looking down-. We only need one head to claim victory, Your Grace-. She raised her brows.
-Rebellion from their supporters would still be a threat, princess-. One of the lords spoke softly towards her. Daera presses her lips, looking at him. The room is now very quiet-. War is, indeed, of essence-. He pointed out.
Daera snorts lowly, looking away. She sees her shoes, believing that everything could be over if they just let her to take Aegon’s head with her sword.
-It's no easy thing for a man to be a dragon slayer-. Prince Daemon's unusual soft tone came to fill the room, to fill his wife's ears-. But dragons can kill dragons-, he says. Daera gives a loosen blink, looking down-...and have-, he pointed.
Daera's terror came to her mind; the possible image of Vhagar and Kalistrox fighting in the skies scaries her. And worst, Aemond and herself on their dragon's backs while doing so.
-The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon-. Daemon pointed with no doubt, softly.
-Viserys spoke often of the Valyrian histories, I know them well-. Queen Rhaenyra answered while reading the map, serious-. When dragons flew to war...-, Rhaena nearly shivers by only imagining that-...everything burned-, she recalls the history books.
Lucerys gulps, as well as some of the lords did too. He shares a glance with Rhaena, who gulped harder. Jacaerys bites his own tongue, turning to look at his wife, who stares at the floor with melancholic eyes.
-I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone-, the Queen denies. Daera tsks, sighing.
-Are you considering the Hightower's terms, Your Grace?-. Lord Bartimos questions with a serious tone. Luke and Jace both look at him, side by side.
-As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos?-. Rhaenyra questioned, narrowing her eyes-. Ensuring peace and unity?-. Daemon moves his fingers with impatience, glancing at his children and then at her again-. Or that I sit the Iron Throne, no matter the cost?-, she wonders, clearly not waiting for an aswer.
-That's your father talking-. The Rogue Prince mumbled, tediously, walking away from the table, heading to the warm fire of the room.
-My father's dead-. Nyra quickly answered. Baela raised her brows. Ser Erryk looked at prince Daemon with cautiousness-. And he chose me as his successor!-, she recalls.
-This is getting personal-, Daera mumbles under her breath.
-Hasn't it always been?-, Jace mumbled as well. They both sigh.
-To defend the realm!-, Rhaenyra stresses-. Not cast it headlong into war-
-Well, the enemy have declared war!-. Daemon's voice suddlenly gets louder, making everyone to get surprised. Jace and Luke instantly turned around, facing him. Rhaena parted her lips-. What are YOU gonna do about it?!-. And he screamed, this time for real, raged towards his wife.
Everyone froze. Daera turned her head to look at her father with round eyes, not believing he spoke to her that way. Jacaerys tighted his fists at the sides of his body, clenching his jaw, not liking that tone towards their mother, their Queen.
Nevertheless, Rhaenyra remains unfased, only staring at him, harshly.
-Clear the room-. She ordered, and not another word was needed.
Within ten seconds, everyone but The Queen and her Prince Consort got out of the chamber while they both were sharing silent and harsh glares.
It is late, it is night. Everyone is either tired or angry, most probably both.
However, someone that didn't look upset at all was princess Rhaenys, and that is something that Rhaena noticed while they were coming out of the room. Her grandma looked excited, almost smiling, and she headed towards a hall that does not lead to her actual apartments.
"Where is she going?", Rhaena wonders, "Grandma rarely rides Meleys at night, much less in Dragonstone". The young girl narrowed her eyes with curiosity and, without an explanation, she took her betrothed with her.
Meanwhile, when Daera came out of the chamber, she was nearly grunting, touching her temple with both her hands while walking. She hears the doors closing behind her, and for some reason it sounded so loudly that it hurted her ears. The princess sighed, closing her eyes with tiredness, starting to walk faster.
Her steps are fast and losing. She’s like running and walking at the same time, sometimes stumbling. Everything aches, suddenly. She starts to get dizzy.
-Fuck-, Daera mumbles, heading her hands to her belly, and gripping it between her ten fingers. She thinks of everything.
Daemon and Rhaenyra may be fighting right now, which she hates. The Hightowers came with awful terms. Rhaenyra seems to be pondering about accepting them. The kingdom is at threat of war. She has lost her child. She has lost her sister. She has lost her uncle. Her husband. Her safeness.
Daera grunts, lowly, walking faster and faster, feeling like the walls around her were about to squash her mercilessly. The princess realizes that steps as fast as hers are following her, along the constant clinking of an armour.
-Princess!-, Ser Erryk voice follows her with a worried face. Full moon eyes, and parts lips, holding his sheathed sword. She looks like she has been poisoned!
Daera kicks the doors of her rooms, and runs desperately to her balcony. Her sworn protector runs behind her. He sees how she covered her mouth with both hands, and he noticed her cheeks suddenly getting inflated.
Three seconds then, Daera opened her mouth along a hurted roar, and vomited desperately towards the ocean, letting her head to hang out of the balcony.
-Seven hells-, Ser Erryk mumbles as he approaches quickly.
-You- FUCK! Help me with…!-, Daera gags and furrows her brows, disgusted by the absolutely sour vomit that keeps coming from the deepness of her empty stomach-. My- my hair!-, she yells between gags and sobs, desperate.
Ser Erryk breathes in and quickly holds the curly white mane of the princess, getting it out of her face and forehead. That allowed her to puke harder, choking with her own fluids as she felt the sickness leaving her body. But oh, what a way.
Daera feels tears coming up to her eyes while she vomits. In the middle of all, she suffers with pain, tiredness and despair. She couldn't avoid it, she had to, for she just has so many bad feelings on her. Everything is going backwards, from bad to worst. How is this going to end? How are they going to come out of this?
The doors of the rooms are knocked, but just out of policy, for they were left half opened when the princess and the knight came in running.
-Daera-, the soft voice of Jacaerys speaks as he, with caution, enters the room, looking around. And when he saw towards the balcony, his blood stopped flowing. Dae- Sister!-, he gasped, immediately running towards there.
Prince Jacaerys ran to the balcony.
-What happened?!-, He asks the knight, taking the princess' mane on his hands, and out of his. Ser Erryk breathes a little fast, looking sideways at her for a second.
-I- I'm fine!-, Daera's tired voice said, as she was done puking, now recovering her breath.
-The princess appeared to get sick, my prince-. Erryk answers to Jace, who listens while he looks at her with worried eyes, holding her hair in one hand, and patting her back with another.
-I said I'm fine!-. Daera stressed, and yet, she keeps her head hanging out of the balcony, fearing she may puke again.
-Have you eaten something today? -. Her “husband” questioned with a hard tone, furrowing his brows. She remained silent. Or after noon, at least?-, he insisted. Daera closed her eyes, and hummed tiredly, resting her forehead on the stone of the railing. That was answer enough. Heavens, Daera-. He tsks.
-I'm afraid I...didn't even finish breakfast-, she remembers within a low mumble, recalling that she interrupted her morning meal when standing up to discuss with Lucerys. After that, well, Rhaenys arrived, Visenya died, they had a funeral, Rhaenyra was crowned Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, and The Greens came to ask for their surrender.
Ser Erryk briefly parted his lips, looking at her with silent but thoughtful eyes. Jace curved his brows, sighing deeply, and shaking his head slowly.
-Ser Erryk, fetch something to eat and drink for my wife at once, please. The prince ordered without looking at him, and only at her, worried. She hums, still eye-closed and resting her head on the railing.
The knight didn't waste a second. He agreed and quickly abandoned the apartments, closing the doors of it. Ser Erryk almost ran to the kitchen of the castle, to ask for a nice supper for the princess.
-Daera…-, Jace called, softly and weakly.
-Oh…-, she sighed with her eyes closed, hating the bad taste her mouth now was-. I'm alright-. Daera mumbled.
All she hears, for three seconds, is silence. She felt something falling on one of her arms, from one moment to another. A drop. Wait, tear. Daera opened her eyes, and didn't even care whether she'd get dizzy again, and she raised herself with fastness and quickness.
She found Jacaerys' teary red eyes. The brown-haired prince looks at her with blushed cheeks and trembling lips. His breath is fast, and his expression obvious.
He's tired and sad too. He too has lost a lot today. More than one can count.
-Jace-, her voice trembled, and her arms held him.
Prince Jacaerys broke out crying, not holding himself anymore. He melted into his sister's chest as she hugged him tightly to it, starting to sob as well. Daera hates to cry in front of her siblings, we know she does, but this… this is too much. This is far too much.
Jace sobs and closes his eyes strongly, clenching his teeth in the middle of his desperate crying. Daera cries quietly but harder, with a great emptiness on her heart.
She holds her hair, and he holds her waist, both of them hugging each other until ending kneeled on the floor, crying and sobbing.
Burning in grieve.
■ ■ ■
As well as it did in Dragonstone, night has arrived in King’s Landing.
Flea Bottom, at the moment, is divided in two. A part of it goes around their lives as if nothing has happened at all, as if thousand weren’t killed this morning, in The Dragonpit. Another part, then, grieves those loses, and another tinier part, the most conscious one, fears the consequences of that precise happening of this morning; the crowning of Aegon Targaryen as King of the Seven Kingdoms, a place that definitely wasn’t his to take, as King Viserys the Peaceful made clear during twenty long years.
For instance, the smith brothers we recently came to know, Ajy, Jay, Yja and Jya, are locked in their house, which is tiny and of dim light. They haven’t come out since the attack on The Dragonpit and, since then, they haven’t stopped thinking about what is to happen, and to come.
Yja, the mute one, sits in a corner of their small dining room. For such tall brothers, their chairs are pretty tiny, to be honest.
-All right, what if...it was a joke?-. Jay suddenly proposes, smiling and opening his strong arms.
Ajy, the oldest, and Jya turned to look at him with troubled faces, annoyed.
-Shut up, Jay-. Ajy scoffs, rolling his eyes.
-He was crown King and- and, as far as I know, nor princess Rhaenyra nor any of her family members are here or were here during the coronation-. Jya talks with nerves, raising his brows-. He was crowned just when they left-, he mumbles, bemused. Yja nods and sighs, agreeing.
-And they probably already know about it-. Ajy mumbles, with his chin placed on his knuckles. His brothers look at him, all of them worried, and nervous. He blinks, thoughtful-…And they won’t stay quiet. You know that, right?-, he asks.
-Hm-, Jay nods, pressing his lips while looking at the floor-. They…-
-They’ll declare war-. Jya pointed out, raising his brows. The four brothers shivered in that moment, staring between each other, terrified of the idea of King’s Landing under attack.
-Shit-, Jay sighs, closing his eyes-. Shit, shit! Right when I was going to buy that wee bonny rug I was saving for!-. He grunts.
Ajy slaps his hands in the table, standing up from a second to another. They all make silence, raising their gazes to look at their older brother. He licks his lips, and starts to nod.
-We cannot wait-, he says.
-…For the rug?-, Jay mumbles.
-For the war!-. Ajy states, and he quickly nods, now understanding-. The town will be save no more-. Yja and Jya stare at him with nerves, the both of them waiting for a direction. Ajy sighs through his nose, blinking a few times-. We’ll leave King’s Landing-. He decided, serious, stepping away.
The brothers were left speechless, blinkless.
-We leave in a few days, after setting everything-. Ajy’s voice disappeared with him as he walked away from the dining room, heading to their chamber.
Yja blinks slowly, letting out a long sigh as he takes the information in. Jya starts nodding with decision, pressing his lips. Jay makes a pout with his.
-Alright, well… At least we’ll leave knowing how hot princess Daera looks using a sword-. Jay mumbles with pride.
-Seven hells, shut up!!-. Jya yelled annoyed. While the smith brothers talk about their future leaving, Flea Bottom’s night life thrives, as always. As we said before, only a few are really aware of what has happened, and more important, what will.
But, while the town is all noise and drink, The Red Keep is under a profound quietness. It is as if every person in The Keep has decided to turn into a Silent Sister, devoted to clean the death and stand close to The Stranger.
There is a guard in every corner of the castle. The servants walk with discomfort, feeling like they’re being watched at all moments. Perhaps they are.
Dowager Queen Alicent, in her big and lonely rooms, sits right by one of the huge windows. Already dressed in her night gown, the red head stares to the outsides at all times. Sometimes she looks to the skies, sometimes to the sea, for she’s waiting for people that may arrive through both ways.
Through the ocean, she expects to see a lone galleon with a green three-headed dragon arriving to the shores, for in it her father will arrive, returning from Dragonstone after telling Rhaenyra the terms of peace Alicent wrote herself. They were all credited to Aegon, of course, for nobody can’t know the King speaks only his mother’s words. With the arrival of the ship, she expects to finally know an answer to this dithering and anxiety.
Through the skies, she’s expecting to see one of two dragons she’s waiting for. Vhagar, and Tessarion. Aemond is to return from the Storm Lands, after winning Lord Borros’ daughter’s hand in marriage, and his support to their side. Daeron, her younger boy, is to return from Oldtown, for he has already received word about the situation in King’s Landing.
Alicent sighs impatiently, hugging herself as she lifted her hazel eyes to stare at the blue clear sky. Nothing. The Queen’s mind waits for her father, while Alicent’s heart waits for her children.
In the same level of Alicent’s quarters, Helaena walks around hers. She has locked her doors, and put the twins to sleep. They dream calmly as their mother wanders the room with slow and delicate steps.
Helaena, somewhat dizzy and extremely tired, looks around while walking. She constantly caresses her belly without even notice it, distracted by her thoughts and sights. One second, she gazed at that wall that leads to the secret passageways of the castle.
She remembers all the times she saw Aemond and Daera going in and coming out from that secret door, always doing it happily. They would hold hands, smile at each other, or discuss sometimes, but most of the times they were always together when crossing that door. Is theirs, she thinks. But now that they’re both gone, away from it, it sends chills down her spine.
The princess looks at it from up to down, and then furrows her lips down, almost with disgust, glaring at it for three more seconds, and then looking and walking away from it.
Jaehaerys cooed softly; she looked at him.
■ ■ ■
Night has completely fallen now, in Dragonstone, our beloved and ancient island. The sky is starry, whilst the land is foggy, for the tall and many mountains of the place bring fresh midst and cold haze with them during nighttime.
Things are still quiet. Better said tensed, but let us not describe the ambience with such a glum word. So, yes, things are quiet in the island.
In the chambers of the Dragon’s Goodness, princess Daera Targaryen, she and her husband, prince Jacaerys Velaryon, lie on the lady’s bed together, in these late hours. Besides them, in a nightstand, there is a glass and a plate, both of them empty and a little dirty, for drink and food had been in them before. ´
Ser Erryk, the princess’ recently named Swore Protector, remains outside of the bedroom, firmly standing right in front of the doors, keeping the entrance under his watch. The knight, wearing his shiny armor, is nearly blinkless, attending to each end of the hallway.
Jace’s hair is all disheveled, as well as Daera’s. While lying in bed, front to front, he slowly caresses the wounds on her arms, which are barely starting to heal. His fingertips follow the lines of dry blood, never-endlessly. Aegon’s nails drew those lines, with violence and no care. The only memory makes the brown-haired prince to shiver, and to clench his jaw.
She has eaten already. After her vomiting, her husband immediately sent the knight in search for food. Minutes then he came back with a lemon juice and a delicious broth made by Dyana, Dragonstone’s newest staff member. The princess ate as if it was her last time, which scared her brother a little, but then he encouraged her eating, also scolding her because of not having eaten anything during the whole day.
For a stupid moment, Daera wondered whether she pukes because se was starving, or as a signal that she definitely has lost the baby she once hoped to carry on her belly. Then, of course, she called herself an idiot, for that baby was never even there. How, huh? Aemond didn’t even give it time to.
With her right cheek resting on her pillow, Daera blinks slowly. Her purple eyes are staring at the fire of the chambers, seeing the flames dancing; she barely blinks while looking at them. The dancing flames. From a second to another, she came to remember one of the times she has seen Vhagar breathing fire.
-Vhagar!-, Aemond called his dragon, grasping his wife's thighs as they both stare down to the island-. DRACARYS!-, his voice commanded, firmly and loud.
The Queen of All Dragons, within a second, raised her head and opened her mouth, expelling a mountain of totally orange flames, which immediately lighted the surroundings. As Aemond growled with a pride smirk, Daera formed a grin when she had a clear sight of the island, now perfectly knowing where to land.
Daera shivers, parting her lips. Parting his as well, Jace stares at her face, which is warmly shining due to the lighting of the fire.
-What is it, Daera?-. He whispers, and she looks at him-…What has been keeping you so quiet all these hours?-, he wonders, curious. She scoffs briefly, through her nose.
-Everything has…-, she whispered too, as honestly as she could. The prince presses his lips, immediately understanding. His heart aches too because of Visenya, and Viserys, and his mother, because of…everything, as she just said-. To only picture it, Jace…-. Daera sighs with disbelief.
-To picture what?-, he questions, lightly furrowing his brown brows. Her purple eyes, reflecting the fire nearby, blink with some kind of fear, and her head shakes for a second.
-Dragon attacking dragon-. She then said, within a low and dense whisper. Jace gulps, opening his eyes a little wide, shivering when picturing it too. She curves her brows, breathing in and looking at him-. It’s fucking frightening-. Daera claims-
-It most definitely is, wife…-. The boy agrees, nodding. She gulps, looking down for a moment when hearing such word. “Wife”. That’s what she now does not know if she is to Aemond-. Such picture may hunt every mind that dares to think it-, he confesses.
-Yes-, she sighed, closing her eyes, and gulping again-. Jace, I don’t want Kalistrox to fight Vhagar…-, Daera sobbed lightly, with honesty and pain. He raised his brows, surprised by her specification. She sniffs, shaking her head-. She is a monster…and my mother’s dragon-, Daera murmurs, hurtful.
And Aemond’s.
-Easy, Daera, easy-. Jace talks before she gets deeper into her imagination. He sits on the bed, and takes her hands, making her eyes to climb to his face, looking up at him with a worriness she’s obviously trying to hide from him-. Fear not-, he softly whispers.
-That may be the worst fucking advice you’ve mouthed, shithead!-. His wife instantly shrieked, wrinkling her nose and quickly sitting on the bed. A smile almost drew itself on his lips, for it felt good to hear her usual funny cursings after such a sad day-. Fear appears to be my ally right now, for I know how to end this war, but all the men in that fucking table seem to desire to lengthen it as much as possible!-, she complains, furrowing her brows sharply.
-And our Queen is not listening to their urges-. Jacaerys instantly pointed, holding her hands tighter, and intertwining her fingers with his. Daera cocks her head to a side, listening to him with wide eyes-…and that’s what should occupy your mind-, he says-.
-That’s what should occupy theirs!-, she raises her brows, and then sighs heavily. Jacaerys stares at her with his sweet brown eyes. He’s full of trust and calmness, something that confuses her so much.
Daera madly wants to ride through the skies and hunt Aegon II Targaryen; end this at once. Her husband, on the other side, unconcernedly assures there’s nothing to be afraid of, and no need of riding nor hunting. They are their parents’ children.
He caresses her fingers; such a soft touch made her breathing to go a little calmer, which honestly surprised her. Her chest has been feeling heavy, and he’s making it a little light.
-I highly doubt that things come to matters of battle, Daera-. Jacaerys said with a recomforting tone, soft and sure. She blinks slowly, breathing in deeply-. It has been…two days since Viserys died, and everything has been kept under control-. He pointed, and that’s when he kind of lost her.
-The cunt has been crowned!-, she instantly grunted.
-There has yet to be a death of a King that doesn’t come with succession quarrels and temporary doubts-. Jacaerys instantly answered, making her to listen again. With her brows furrowed, she closes her lips-…but they pass. They always have, Daera, through history. It’s what I read of, daily!-. He stresses, trusted, briefly showing her a smile.
The Rogue Princess starts to blink constantly, truly hearing his words, which are rarely…making a lot of sense. He’s right. What if this is just a moment? A temporary doubt, as he said?
-Aegon may play King for a day or two, but the truth is one that’ll happen: he does not belong there. We do-. Prince Jacaerys, Heir to The Iron Throne, claims to his wife, princess Daera, who blinked with bemusement while staring at him-. We haven’t had to fight, have you notice? Everything has been done under diplomacy, as it should be-. He pointed, hopeful.
He does not know, of course, about Rhaenys unleashing Meleys under the roof of The Dragonpit, killing hundreds and hurting thousands.
Daera sighs longly, briefly cocking her head to a side. He looks back at her, grinning lightly while softly holding her hands. She sighed again, now letting out a chuckle. His heart lit up with that sound.
-Perhaps you’re right, but be assured, I only wish to slice Aegon’s head-, Daera sighed within a smile, closing her eyes. Jacaerys laughed, closing his too.
The prince presses his smiling lips, and then he headed towards her, for a hug. So, he hugged her, firmly and lovingly. Daera curved her brows, erasing her smile and quickly hugging him back, tighter and deeper. The both of them sighed when feeling the other’s warmth.
-They won’t we there for long-. The brown-haired prince whispers in her ears. Daera shivers, thinking ‘bout The Greens-…I promise this to you, wife-. He swore.
And moments after that, both princes couldn’t hold themselves for very much longer. They lied on the same bed, and fell asleep with quickness, tired and exhausted.
They deserved a good sleep, for they’ll rarely get any in the next night to come. Or the next. Or the next one to that. Nor in the next.
■ ■ ■
The next morning brought with itself a most joyous and relieving new. Lord Corlys Velaryon is healthy, and at Dragonstone.
Only a few have seen him, though. Not even the Queen has yet blessed her eyes with the sight of the Sea Snake, after almost seven long years. But, then again, some have seen him indeed.
Early in the morning, Rhaenys went looking for her three granddaughters; Baela woke up alerted, Rhaena worried, and Daera sleepy, awakened by soft caresses on her hair, and she left, leaving Jace sleeping alone in the bed. None of the three understood why their grandma sneaked them out of their rooms at very early hours.
Soon enough, they understood.
When entering to one of the halls of the castle, they saw Corlys standing in the middle of it, using a cane, but healthy and strong. It seemed like none of the girls could believe their eyes. Though Rhaena, for a second, looked like she was pretending her surprise, as if she already knew he was here. Did she?
Lord Corlys got as surprised as they. He couldn’t believe his old eyes when seeing those three young women standing in front of him, the two oldest now taller than his wife. Corlys stuttered, he really did, starting to realize how long he really was away.
“Rhaena is a recently bloomed flower, soft and delicate. Baela is fire made skin, vivid and alive. And Daera is a savage beauty, gorgeous and a fearless warrior.” The Sea Snake confirmed that the way Rhaenys described the girls before bringing them to him were, absolutely, truth.
-Grandsire!-, Baela screeched the harder when the three of them ran to him. They all were happily hugged by the old man, who surrounded them with his arms in the middle of bemused chuckles and smiles under Rhaenys’ prideful eyes.
They three were Laena’s living images.
After tight hugs and heartful declarations of love, Corlys got recalled that they’re also Daemon’s daughters, for they slashed him with harsh words, especially from Daera’s mouth. They cursed his fleeing, and called him a coward right to his face, also under Rhaenys’ prideful eyes.
-I, uh…-Corlys was left speechless-…I am truly sorry, my girls. Though I doubt the effectiveness of my sorriness-, he spoke with shame, curving his brows.
-You are right-, Baela raised her brows.
-It is useless!-, Daera claimed.
-Uhum-, Rhaena nodded.
-Indeed-, Rhaenys mumbled from her place.
Corlys opens his mouth, stuttering, and then sighing with a tired smile.
As the morning kept going, word spread all over the island that The Sea Snake has returned and is among them, walking and breathing. When hearing so, some would even gasp, as if it was about a ghost they were hearing of. Well, they kind of are.
Jacaerys woke up alone on Daera’s room; Ser Erryk wasn’t outside either. When hearing of the news, he understood for himself where Daera and his other sisters probably were. Then, however, he wondered why he wasn’t called too, for he’s also Lord Corlys’ grandchild, isn’t he?
Joffrey, the poor lad, was so confused because of everyone fuss about The Sea Snake’s return. In the boy’s defense, he barely remembers all the stories that has been told to him about his grandsire.
Lucerys gulped the harshest in his life when the news was told to him. He barely showed any reaction, as if he already knew his grandsire was there, in the very same castle as his. His blue eyes showed a weird kind of worriness, though his thin lips smiled with relieve.
Queen Rhaenyra called a meeting with her Black Council as soon as everyone broke their fast. Every lord and knight headed to The Chamber of The Painted Table as soon as hearing so, finding the royal family already there, though not complete.
There were only the mother and her boys; Rhaenyra, Jace and Luke. None of the princesses are at presence, and prince Daemon is nowhere to be found. Some saw him walking towards The Dragonmont, very early in the morning, but that was his last time seen.
The morning is clear and fresh. The castle’s multiple halls are well lighted by the sun, and a soft breeze enters its multiple windows as well, including The Chamber of The Painted Table. Alas, the feelings that surround it are not as pleasant.
Rhaenyra is seated at her chair, with her eyes down and her brows furrowed, deeply thoughtful while the men around her, all standing, have endless discussions.
-The purpose of war is to fill graveyards, my dear Lord St. Aunton-. Lord Bartimos speaks with taunt-. The trick is to put more of their men in the ground than your own!-, he added.
The Queen’s sons stand by the sides of the table as well, though they remain silent. Luke and Jace, standing side by side, glance all around the hall, seeing the discussing men and hearing their annoyed voiced. The older brother, in one moment, glances at the younger.
-You slept well last night?-, Jace questions within a murmur. Luke flinches, coming out of his thoughts.
-Why, yes-. He answered with swiftness, confusing his brother a little.
-Doesn’t it seem so-, he confesses. Lucerys sighs, looking away.
-Thanks for the flattering-. The boy whispers, burlesque. His older brother twists his mouth, planning on asking about why he didn’t sleep well last night, though he maybe knows why.
-Easy words from a lord who commands from the safety of his castle-, Lord St. Aunton answered calmly, raising his brows.
-Doesn’t make it any less true-, Lord Bartimos instantly pointed out.
-The Lord of The Tides!-. And suddenly, a loud announce made by Ser Erryk catches the attention of all ear and eye of the room. Rhaenyra quickly moves her head, standing up from her chair-. Lord Corlys Velaryon!-, he named.
Jacaerys and Lucerys instantly looked towards there, right at the moment when The Sea Snake’s cane made echo between the walls. Jace raised his chin, whilst Luke parted his lips, nervously holding his hands over his abdomen.
-And his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!-. Erryk announces as he watches front, having Queen Rhaenyra at his side.
Everybody stared at the stairs and, just as the White Cloak announced, Corlys walks the steps down with Rhaenys at his side. And, behind them, also coming down, are their three granddaughters. Daera, Baela and Rhaena. The three of them wear black and red today, contrary to the usual, where at least one of them wears the Velaryon blue.
Daera eyes the hall as she walks behind her grandparents. One of the first thing she catches is Ser Erryk, who’s standing besides to her step-mother. He closed his lips when she placed her eyes on him for two slow seconds. The knight remembers when princess Rhaenys came to her rooms in the erly morning, and ordered him to remain on his place.
-My Lord-, the Lord of the Tides greeted, noticing all the looks of awe towards him. For many, it is as if they were seeing some kind of legend and, well, let us allow him to be. The man has fought in The Stepstones twice, and lived to tell it.
-Lord Corlys-, Rhaenyra sighed his name when greeting him, immediately attracting his gaze.
As son as they came down from the stairs, the princesses headed towards the same place without even having to say it. They three walked to the end of the Painted Table, where their brothers were expecting for them. Luke and Rhaena shared a quick glum look while she was walking.
-It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again-, the Queen spoke with honesty and a smile towards the old man, who nodded in silence, looking at her with interest, and wide eyes. Behind him, his wife, who remains silent with a quiet smirk on her thin lips.
-I’m very sorry about your father, princess-. The lord then said, speaking loudly-…He was a good man-, he says with a light sorrow. Viserys’ daughter thanks him with a silent nod, pressing her lips.
After so, Corlys turns his head when hearing the steps of his granddaughters stepping away. He, then, saw Daera placing herself behind Jace, whom she shared a quick smirk with, and the same happened with Rhaena and Luke, who nodded towards the other while looking at their eyes, briefly smiling. Baela stood besides Daera, crossing her hands above her belly, and gifting her siblings a swift wink.
Lord Corlys parted his lips when seeing them, all, standing together. The boys have grown so much; as well as the girls. They’re all grown up… They’ve become a team, he can see.
The Sea Snake cocks his head, soon noticing that the royal family is not entirely complete.
-Where is Daemon?-, he asked, boldly. The girls were wondering that themselves, having noticed their dad’s absence since they arrived.
-There were other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention-, Rhaenyra answered with quickness. Daera and Baela shared a curious glance, silently.
After raising his brows, Lord Corlys just hums, and walks forward, helping himself with his cane. Pressing his lips, Nyra follows him in silence.
-I had hope to see you when waking up-, prince Jacaerys suddenly whispered, only for his wife to hear. She opened her eyes big for a second, rolling them.
-Jace, not now-. Rapidly, she scolded. Soon, Jace realized how doubled-sensed that had sound. His cheeks started to burn.
-Your declared allies?-, lord Corlys questions after taking a look to the Painted Table.
Rhaenyra suddenly felt like a child. She approached to the table while giving a harsh nod, gulping.
-Yes!-, it was her answer.
-Too few to win a war for the throne-. He pointed out. Rhaenyra opens her mouth, doubtful, while her children glanced at their grandsire with cockiness, proud themselves of their declared allies.
-Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon and Stark-. The Queen says while nodding, looking at the banner of said houses.
-Hope…is the fool’s ally-. The Sea Snake reproaches, raising his hairy brows. Lucerys gulps, blinking and then looking at his mom.
-Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house-, Rhaenyra points with sureness-, but all of them swore oaths to me!-, she quickly reminded, lifting her brows.
-As did House Hightower…!-, he recalls. Daera parts her lips, turning her head to look at him, and feeling an ugly weight on her chest when hearing that house. Of course, she thought of Aemond. What is he doing now?-…if I remember-
-As did you, Lord Corlys-
The Queen got tired of being taunted at, and answered with coldness, leaving everyone speechless, including the very Lord Corlys, who just remained with his brows up and his mouth open. Jace forms a smirk to the side of his face, prideful. Daera blinked with confidence, looking at her grandsire.
Corlys remains silent, turning around to watch at every face of the hall, studying it. His eyes drove themselves to his grandchildren, whom all looked back at him. Luke holds his hands with obvious nervous, looking away after connecting their eyes. Corlys sighed through his nose, not believing how grown the little boy now is.
Ser Erryk sees the expression of pride on his protected princess. He noticed, in the moment she entered the room, that she’s still “showing off” her wounds made by King Aegon II, as a way of reminding everybody how beast of an animal he is. She’s definitely not one scared of blood, nor of daring.
-Your father’s realm was one of justice and honor-. Lord Corlys’ voice covers the room as everyone is listening to him, including the Queen, whose jaw is clenches-. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand!-, he denies loudly.
-Fuck yeah-, princess Daera agrees.
-Daera-, Rhaena quickly tsked.
Corlys stares at the Queen with confidence, wisdom, and decision.
-You have the full support of our fleet, and house-. The Lord of The Tides declared with total determination. The children breathed with hope and surprise, while those same feelings shined on Rhaenyra’s eyes-…Your Grace-, he slowly bowed his head to her.
-You honor me, Lord Corlys…-. Nyra confessed, bemused.
Lucerys sighs through his open lips. He blinks, and looks at Rhaena, who looks back at him with softness and a smile.
-I told you…-, she mouthed. He chuckles a little, closing his mouth back again.
Rhaenyra turns around to see at Rhaenys. She was already looking at her, with one of the sincerest smirk she has ever given. Something is changed in her grandmother eyes, which Daera realized and thanked with relief, staring at them two.
-Princess Rhaenys-, Rhaenyra nods, thanking her as well.
The Queen Who Never Was nods back at her, almost seeming pride. Rhaenyra looks at Corlys again, smiling. But then, realizing that she’s showing far too emotion, the Queen breaks her chuckles and breathes in, looking at the table again.
-But…-, she bites her inner cheeks, still fighting against her smile. In silence, Luke knows her too well, noticing her desire to cheer-, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm storm and united-. She determines-. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand-. The Queen says.
Rhaena listens to her with a pleasing smirk, nodding endlessly, agreeing with every word. Oh, how much Rhaena admires her step-mother’s position in the middle of all of this. However, Rhaena’s grandsire didn’t seem to understand this much.
-You do not mean to act?-, Corlys questioned, confused. Humming, Daera agreed with his question. She has said it before and she’ll say it again: all’d be solved by taking Aegon’s head at once.
-Taking caution does not mean standing fast-. Rhaenyra corrected, raising her brows.
-But it could be, Your Grace, if we employ to much time in just cautions-. Princess Daera spoke with her brows up, softly. Her family and the lords glanced at her, and her step-mother quickly answered.
-I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war-. Nyra replied with total determination, crossing her hands over her belly while studying the table. Daera sighed, closing her lips into a tiny smile, and nodding.
Unfaceted, Corlys just nodded and shrugged, accepting her reasons. He walked some calmed steps closer to her, being watched by everyone while he did so.
-The consequence of my…near demise, in The Stepstones…is that we now control them-. He said, just like that, from a moment to another. Rhaenyra instantly looked at her children, parting her lips and looking back at them. They also went speechless, opening their eyes widely-. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time-, he informs.
-Oh gods-, Luke sighs with no voice.
-A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed-, Lord Corlys goes into detail-…The Narrow Sea, is ours-. He declared, raising his brows towards The Queen.
Daera blinks fastly, shaking her head. A huge chuckle left her lungs in that moment, and her chest started to beat really fast. The own the seas! They own THE sea! They have the upper hand, by far. They have the sea, the more dragons, the more willing.
-Oh goodness, oh fuck-. Daera trembles and chuckles, placing her open hands on the table-. You were right-, she whispered, amused, looking up to Jace.
He looks down at her, thoughtful, but gibving her a hopeful smile, nodding. She giggles again, breathing fastly, and then staring forward.
-So- So what do we do, grandsire!?-. The princess asked with a vivid voice. He smirked to her, also placing his hands on the table, making everyone to look at it.
-If we further seal The Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing-. He goes pointing and they go nodding, perfectly understanding his strategy.
-I shall take Meleys and patrol The Gullet myself-. Rhaenys declares, stepping besides Rhaenyra while looking at her husband. Speechless by her willing to help, the Queen looked at her, who looked back too.
The Queen Who Never Was gave Queen Rhaenyra a soft smirk, slowly breathing through her nose.
Daera laughs through hers whilst she reads the map, nodding. She feels like she’s seeing the fucking future! With all this strength to their side, this dithering will be over most likely within the week, if not before. And then they’ll be safe again, and having what is theirs.
-Fuck me…-, she whispers to herself, already beginning to think how she’ll do to gain a royal pardon to Aemond and Helaena. But it’ll be fine, Rhaenyra is not a murderer nor cruel; she’ll pardon her half-siblings but Aegon, who’s the actual one to blame, besides Alicent and Otto, of course. They two shall rot in a cell and the false King shall meet Daera’s sword’s end. But Aemond, Helaena, and the children, oh yes, they’ll be fine. But, ah fuck! How will she fuck with Aemond now that they’ll all live in The Red Keep? Well, she still has that to figure it out.
This is the problem about Daera. She sometimes thinks too fast.
-When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to The Red Keep, and force The Greens’ surrender-. Lord Bartimos plans, convinced, and the Queen listens carefully, staring at the table. Jacaerys is doing the same.
-If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, The Eyrie, and Storm’s End-. Rhaenyra declares with seriousness. Luke nods while hearing, as hopeful as his sisters.
-I’ll preprare the ravens, Your Grace-. The Maester Gerardys spoke with his usual kindness.
The Queen nodded towards him, convinced. Though, then, someone refuted to this.
-We should bear those messages-. One of the prince’s voices fills everyone’s ears, and it wasn’t Lucerys’.
Rhaenyra lifts her chin and looks forward. The girls and the other boy turned their heads to look at the older brother. Jacaerys was the one who spoke, and he too, as his mother, keeps his chin up, standing with a bad posture but a good willing.
Daera slowly parts her lips, narrowing her eyes. He looks to her for a moment, and then looks back at the Queen to talk.
-Dragons can fly faster than ravens…-He says. Luke’s blue eyes flickered, and he scolded himself the moment he started to fear the idea of going outside of Dragonstone alone. He pressed his lips, and gave a harsh nod, looking down when agreeing. He didn’t notice Rhaena’s silent look on him. She pressed her lips strongly, disliking Jacaerys’ idea, and Daera’s apparent love for it-…and they’re more convincing-. He states.
-Less chit chat nor dithering if we are the ones to go-. Princess Daera quickly spoke after her husband, supporting him. Queen Rhaenyra stares at them both with cold eyes, serious-. Ravens cannot speak for themselves either, but we can-. She raises her brows.
-We can also write-, Rhaena reminded.
-But better is to speak-. Everybody in The Chamber of The Painted Table was left surprised when Prince Jacaerys and Princess Daera, husband and bride, said the same answer at the same time. That made Nyra to part her lips, and Rhaena to be toothless.
-One landing of both our dragons, and they’ll already be ours-. Daera speaks with desire of permission, hunger of adventure, and her husband nods with the same feelings-. We’ll be back in days-, she shrugs, confident.
As many lords as knights look at the both of them with prideful gaze, never having doubt the fierce children of The Queen. Ser Erryk watched at her princess, having his lips pressed. She glanced at him for a second, showing him a mischievous smirk. The White Cloak almost laughed. They both know they’ll be parted were she to take this mission.
-Send us-. Jace pleads. At his sides, Baela smirks, Daera nods, Luke waits for the answer with parted lips and opened eyes, and Rhaena fears for all of them with her mouth shut.
-The prince is right, Your Grace-. Lord Corlys agreed with pride on his voice, smiling at Jace, and then looking at his mother.
Nyra eyed The Sea Snake, and then looked back at the children. Now they’re all five looking at her, all of them waiting for an answer. Baela wants to be as involved a they can, to win back their throne. Jace remains serious, knowing that ‘tis the right step. Daera licks her lips with a smile, knowing they’ll win every bannerman they go to visit. Lucerys gulped his fear away, and nodded with confidence, bravely. Rhaena hates her sibling’s braveness, she hates Luke’s most of all, and waits for a full, total, completely denial from the Queen.
-Very well-, Rhaenyra nodded.
Rhaena’s breathing left her body. After this, she didn’t hear much more. Her shoulders got loose and her eyes lost in some point of the room. She doesn’t like this. The youngest girl fears their courage, for it’ll take them apart from each other. Only together victory will be ours, as it has always been. They’re grieving, for the gods’ sake. The worst idea right now is to…leave.
-Princes Daera and Jacaerys will flight north-, The Queen dictates.
-I’ll get my fucking boots-. Daera snaps her fingers, and Jace nods.
-Easy, Daera-. Her step-mother scolded-. First, you’ll go to The Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn…and then to Winterfell, to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North-. She explains with a firm voice, while they nod.
Daera starts to furrow her brows when she sees Nyra’s eyes falling on Luke.
-Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End, and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon-. She ordered to her middle son, who listened with parted lips, silent.
The eldest sister, Daera, blinked harshly, and gulped harsher. She hadn’t realized that Luke would be assigned a place to fly too. When she said “we” she was referring to Jacaerys and herself, not…Luke. The idea of him flying out of Dragonstone, alone on his own, didn’t appealed to her one bit.
But, remembering her fight with Lucerys on yesterdays’ breakfast, she gulped and remained silence, for now, not wanting to speak out loud her discomfort in front of everyone. Perhaps she’s beginning to understand that that would shame him, maybe. But, hell no, he can’t go alone. She doesn’t want him too.
-We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore!-. Queen Rhaenyra speaks with decision and trust, having a tiny smirk on her lips-. And…! the cost of breaking them-, she added, fearless.
Lord Corlys smirk with his lips closed, agreeing, and nodding towards her with pride.
■ ■ ■
-When we are away from each other again, when I’m back at my home and you back at yours…they’ll be our marks of each other-. She murmurs with dearness, looking at the deep violet ocean on his eye. Aemond hums, sighing through his nose. He couldn’t agree more.
-…Never take them off…-, Aemond asked, caressing her curly mane.
-Never-, Daera quickly agreed, narrowing her eyes.
