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Chapter Text

Princess Alaera Targaryen could not remember a time she had not felt guilty. For no one would think to blame the first child of a Prince of the Realm and his beautiful young wife for being a girl. But no one could ever forgive a second living child, born to the now king and his queen after many lost pregnancies and stillbirths, for being born a girl. Nor could that child forgive herself every time she heard her mother, again and again over the years, screaming from the pains of birth only to be left without a living baby son in her arms. She most definitely blamed herself for the untimely death of her mother, if not for the one of her long awaited brother Baelon shortly after. She thought she saw accusation in the eyes of both her father and her older sister.... If only she herself had been a boy, none of this sadness and lost hope would have plagued her loved ones. For she dearly loved them all even when they paid little attention to her. What value did a second daughter have for a royal family in search of a son and heir to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms?

At only seven years of age, after losing her loving mother and seeing her older sister Rhaenyra become heir to the throne of her father, did Alaera see an opportunity arise: as second born she could evade the traditional roles of a princess and, instead, become who she wanted to be. And there was only one thing Alaera Targaryen wanted to be: free. If only her love for her kin didn't keep her forever entwined in their destinies.

On her way to freedom, a nine years old Alaera had effortlessly bonded the - until then wild - dragon Rexhor, who had hatched in the Dragonpit some forty years prior out of a clutch said to have come from Vermithor and Silverwing. It had been the first time Alaera had truly felt acknowledged by her father. Everyone knew the younger princess spent much of her time in the Dragonpit, where she had even been found asleep as early as with only four years of age. Unlike all other babies of their family, Alaera did not receive a dragon egg in her cradle. After landing for the first time in the Dragonpit on Rhexor's back, she did ask her father about it. He then smiled abashedly and said he had wanted her to choose her own, that he knew her will would be stronger than to have her dragon selected by fate, that she would make her own choice when she found her match in a dragon. Ever since that day he was often heard speaking fondly about Alaera as his "wild child" as he obviously loved her despite her fault in missing some essential male parts. Let it not be thought that Viserys ever said anything of that sort to anyone.

Never did the king utter a word of disappointment about his Alaera. None of the guilt that clouded her bright eyes had ever come from her loving father. After all, she was the one that resembled him most of all the children he fathered in his life: just as beautiful as her mother Aemma Arryn had been, Alaera loved to read the histories of Westeros (after but also before the Conquest) and, even more, all there could be found about old Valyria, about its gods and especially about its dragons. Yes, she had an energy and a restlessness that reminded him more of his brother Daemon, but her pacifying nature was most definitely inherited from him. That trait forced her to spend much of her teenage and adult years flying between King's Landing and Dragonstone as the only constant tie between King and his chosen heir. For although the seven year age difference between sisters meant there had been no great friendship between them growing up, love had never lacked. More than once, after the death of their mother, had the young Alaera cried herself to sleep in the arms of her older sister.

Rhaenyra hadn't paid her very much attention growing up and later, so caught up in her new role as future queen, even less. The added drama of their father marrying Rhaenyra's childhood friend, Alicent Hightower, and fathering not one, but three sons (and a daughter) made the rift between the once true friends even bigger. It didn't help that her older sister was trapped in a marriage of convenience with their Velaryon cousin who, everyone knew, preferred his male companions in every way. Or that their three sons resembled the handsome Sir Harwin Strong and lacked the silver-blond hair and purple eyes of both Targaryen and Velaryon bloodlines. That is not to say that the relationship between the sisters was cold. Rhaenyra knew beyond a doubt that her little sister would forever be her ally, even if the whole world would be against her.

Rhaenyra's departure to Dragonstone had left the ten year old Alaera to turn to her younger siblings, the children being born to the young queen Alicent. The princess doted on them, read them stories at bedtime and even slept herself on the floor of the little children's room sometimes. Anyone knowing her saw how much love she had for all her brothers and sisters. She had even tried to grow close to her father's new bride but Alicent was still bitter because of Rhaenyra and always treated her with coldness.

Years later, on one of the occasions when the ailing king Viserys was trying to inspire unity to his family, he suggested Alaera as wife for their second son, Aemond. He did this at his name day family dinner, knowing none of his children would openly deny him if he asked something of them. By this time Alaera was twenty four years old and had already evaded multiple marriage proposals and had even escaped on dragonback two or three weddings organized without her knowledge. "How long do you want me to stay away this time, father?" she had asked after the third time and Viserys knew he must let his wild Alaera be if he wanted to have her around, for every time she left, she returned after an even longer period of time and always strained, sad, ashen even.

What he didn't know was that her main purpose when leaving was not to simply escape marriage but to find a cure for the unknown disease that was making him into a bedridden man of no old age. This had been her greatest purpose and ambition since she once saw the maesters care for his growing number of wounds. First she had turned to the library for answers, then, after not finding the needed knowledge in the medical texts there, she had petitioned the Citadel in Oldtown, where the maesters received their training, to open their libraries to her. It had taken several months of ravens and rides on dragonback, of asking, then of ordering and in the end pleading, but only succeeded after she convinced her father to intercede for her. It had been then that King Viserys had understood the great selflessness but also the stubbornness of his fifteen year old second daughter. He realized he would be unable to control her and, as much as his Council pushed for her marriage, no man alive would be able to leash his dragon-child.

"How about we ask Aemond if he wants to marry his older sister, no less than eleven years his senior?" she said not wanting to hurt the boy's feelings. She loved him in spite of his cold and vengeful spirit as she still remembered the sweet little boy of four who used to come to her bed when the storm outside scared him in the dark of night. "Promise you won't tell Aegon?" he would ask before he would climb next to her. She had never betrayed his trust nor did she want to reject him openly. Not that he wasn't already showing signs of growing into a handsome young man, but because Alaera had sworn never to find herself in a birthing bed screaming in pain. She would never become a man's child bearer, no matter how much she cared for him. Her life would not be about satisfying a man's quest for power and legacy with the price being her. But there was no way to explain that to a proud thirteen year old boy who, she knew, loved her enough to cross from being only her brother to also being her husband.

"I will do my duty to my family!" he said proudly, trying not to show any sign of hope or even a trace of a smile. Truth be told, Alaera was perfection in his eyes, not only because of her stunning beauty that had not faded at all with the years, but because of her strength, independence and intelligence. The fact that she was also a proficient swordfighter and archer only increased his admiration of her. They often took dragon rides together and it seemed to him that even their dragons, Vhagar and Rexhor, were pretty well matched, even if the elder female was quite bigger.

"I would only be foolish enough to marry for passionate love, little brother, " she said and winked at him. At that moment the thirteen year old Aemond knew there was no one else for him, no other woman that he could ever love. What he didn't know was that Alaera was no innocent maid and had discovered during her far travels that she preferred the company of women to that of men in her intimate moments, which was also fortunate as it could not leave her with child. Her answer was cunning as it not only told part of her truth but also avoided inflicting any suffering on the one-eyed boy who worshiped her already. Even later, as she stood strong on Rhaenyra's side against Aegon, never did his feelings for her falter.

"You wouldn't know what to do with our older half-sister, Aemond!" was Aegon's mocking reaction.

"Aegon!" exclaimed queen Alicent, shocked by her elder son's words, and not for the first time.

"You DO know wine does NOT help with that, don't you, Aegon?" Alaera raised her cup to Aegon and winked wickedly watching him squirm in his chair. The sixteen year old prince was already married to their sister, Helaena, and it was, unfortunately for the sweet young princess, not a happy union. She stood up, walked around to her brother and leaned to whisper in his ear, "Should I ask some of the servants about your...technique?" Aegon choked on his wine and Alaera patted him on his back while winking and smiling victorious to Aemond. If there was something she hated was a bully. She had not been there often enough to see all the times her half-brothers did the same to her sister's younger boys and that made her still see Aemond in a lighter light than was real. Aegon's jokes at his expense had taken their toll and the loss of his eye added to the hate Alicent poured in her son's ears had definitively turned him against their nephews. He was too loyal to actually consider aiming his venom toward his older brother who he otherwise disconsidered.

Her father understood her attitude and saw the diplomacy that the otherwise wilful young woman knew to use even in a family setting. Not for the first time the thought passed his mind, "What if Alaera would have been born Aeron? Could Aeron have kept Rhaenyra from her adult mistakes?"

Whatever fire burned and flowed in Rhaenyra, it ran deeper and hotter in Alaera. The great difference was in what each woman displayed: Rhaenyra had taken her role as heir to heart and was always regal in her ways, while Alaera was sunnier and smiled often, was open in her displays of affection but she also went on doing whatever she wanted, ignoring both rules set to her and the expectations of her position. She was very careful to never do anything that would throw a shadow on her perceived reputation although her father knew she cared little for it. She had simply learned from her older sister's doings and saw the complications that could arise from openly following one's desires....when one was a young woman. For her male siblings were never plagued by such considerations and went on visiting the Street of Silk without any second thought or blame placed on them. Many times had she seen Aegon and later also Aemond walk the secret passages deep inside the Keep leading to the city. They knew some of them, she knew them all. She had discovered them through many days and nights of trial and error while searching to get away from maids, maesters and septas charged with her care in all the times her mother was abed with child or after a pregnancy, when no one read bedtime stories to her and her heart called to the amazing beasts who nested in the Dragonpit.

She felt a kinship to them: they were kept tied up like she sometimes felt in the palace, ignored most of the time by those who she loved, just as the dragons were. Sure, those with riders were ridden every once in a while, but mostly they sat awaiting their riders to take them to the skies. She thought that as unfair, the tying, the waiting... She saw these majestic creatures as wanting to live free just as she hoped to grow to. She tried to visit Dragonstone as much as possible for she knew it was there where dragons nested and lived freely. It was there where she found Rexhor in a hidden cave on Dragonmount. She had read the ledgers of the dragon trainers and knew everything about all the dragons ever hatched to the Targaryens after the Conquest. His story, of a dragon born in the Dragonpit but never bonded by any of her forebearers, who then escaped to return to his birthplace every once in a while as if searching for something lost to him, had resonated in the child Alaera had been.

She first saw him fly around Dragonmount on one of her visits to her older sister Rhaenyra and went searching for his lair. Only once did she go in, singing in High Valyrian as her uncle Daemon had taught her older dragons raised by their family liked. And sure enough the great beast awoke and watched her sing, then spit fire close enough to her side for the girl to feel the heat almost burn her face. She made no move to protect herself, uttered no word to the dragon, did not even blink under his gaze, only watched him with awe. Then he showed her his open mouth, displaying all his sharp teeth, but still the little girl did not retire from his presence. When he set his snout down on its front paws and closed its eyes in front of her, she had known they were bonded. She steadily stretched her hand and slowly touched his muzzle. His deep intake of breath did not deter her, she simply waited for his breath to become even again. She then sat many a time on the beach outside his cave waiting for Rexhor to come to her and, though the beast had taken its sweet time, one day he flew out of his lair, made a few circles in the sky, spew fire in her direction several times but still she didn't cower. She simply sat in the sand watching him with a frozen calm so few Targaryens managed to display. He landed in front of her and then stretched a wing down for her to mount him. She did it as if they had already danced this dance many times before, slowly, so as not to spook him away. It was the first of many times that Rexhor carried Alaera between Dragonstone and King's Landing. Neither dragon nor rider ever allowed for him to be tied down or taken inside the Dragonpit, but he awaited calmly for his rider in the open space. When there were others there to train, fly or land, Rexhor would either take to the skies alone or simply coil around himself to make space for them. Yet he was always ready when Alaera came for him and none of the dragon keepers ever heard the young princess utter a command to her dragon, as if there was no need for that, as if their connection ran much deeper than words.

Chapter Text

Prince Aemond Targaryen would never forget the day he saw his older half-sister Alaera, the "sunshine princess" and forever smiling optimist of the family, look utterly broken.

The prince rarely missed a day to ride his dragon Vhagar, dearly paid for in blood. He might have been the last of his siblings to ride a dragon but he had made sure his was the oldest and most battle-experienced of them all. Some days he would fly so far out to sea that he almost felt lost, not able to see westerosi land anymore. He sometimes felt Vhagar was the one taking him wherever she decided, as if no matter what he wanted she was the one in control and took him with her of her own accord. On such a day with clear skies and tranquil sea sometime after his twentieth name day did Vhagar bring the one-eyed son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower much farther than he even realized.

He knew for sure there was intent in the direction of the dragon's flight, he just couldn't identify it. When he finally saw land, there were several islands pretty close to one another. Farther in the distance he could see smoke rising in the sky, sign of inhabitation. Did she bring him to the Stepstones? Why? He knew the region was plagued by constant conflict between the Seven Kingdoms ruled by his father and the Triarchy, when it existed.

"Dohaeris, Vhagar!" he said but to no avail. She started to descend and it was then that he saw something strange on the beach of a small, apparently uninhabited, island. Someone. Someone who looked to be in a bad shape, sitting alone without moving, head bowed, dressed in dark leathers. The closer he came he started to discern that that someone had a braid of long silver hair, darkened probably by both dirt and sand.

Realization hit him long before Vhagar landed close to the sitting figure. His heart started to race in his chest. "Stop it, Aemond!" he thought to himself. Almost two years had passed since the last time he had seen his older half-sister, Alaera. Every time he visited his father, it had been the king's first question: "Is Alaera back? Tell her to come see me..." He avoided going to see his father because all he saw was disappointment at his answer and longing for the daughter who had constantly been by the king's side whenever she resided in King's Landing. He envied their close relationship although he could see how affected Alaera was every time she came back home from her travels to find their father in an even worse state than before she'd left. Not only once had he found her silent with tears on her beautiful face under the ancient weirwood tree, her favorite place of reflection in all of the Red Keep.

Once, long ago, she had heard him approach and had looked at him straight with so much sadness in her eyes it had almost made him cry. Since he'd been a child, she had been the one always smiling in their family, the one always trying to bring laughter and good humor to all the others. Even with his cold demeanor, there had been no way to resist her smile and the games she made up to bring fun to her younger siblings. "Come, if you want, " she had said back then, under the weirwood. She often used High Valyrian with him as she'd found him on many occasions in the Red Keep's library where Aemond liked to study and perfect his mastery of the language while Alaera simply loved to read. "Is something wrong?" the eleven year old him had asked, also in High Valyrian. "Not anymore, " she had answered while ruffling his silver-blond hair with a small smile on her face. He had pulled himself away from her playful gesture that made him feel like a child but she had instead drawn him closer to her side. They had sat there, side by side, his right arm brushing her left one, in silent contemplation. He never again shied away from her, even in those silent, sad moments, for he felt that to be the true nature of Alaera. He even made a custom of laying his hand on hers between them because he loved the sincere smile that flowered on her lips whenever he did that.

Now, seeing her lift her face fractured something deep inside him. The sorrow on her features was unmistakable, more than he had seen anytime before. A desperation to know what happened to her overtook him. He leaped from Vhagar's back and ran to her.

"Alaera, what happened?" he asked in High Valyrian, grabbing her arms and lifting her from the sand, pulling her close in front of him while he inspected what could be seen of her body, searching for wounds. He couldn't see anything physically wrong with her lithe form, quite diminished since he'd last seen her.

"I failed, Aemond," she answered in a whisper as tears started to fall on her cheeks.

He violently pulled her to him, not able to look upon her as broken as she seemed to be. Of all those downhearted moments he had witnessed, this one was much worse by far. There had always been a glimmer of hope in her eyes, a resolution in her that however hopeless she felt, there was always one more possibility left, there still was some other way to explore and maybe find a solution to the problem. Not this time. She was broken and he did not know how to help. All he could do was hold her and try to give some of his strength, as she had with him so many times in his childhood. So he continued to embrace her tightly, to caress her back, to whisper calming words while her head rested on his chest. Long moments passed and, without thinking, Aemond leaned his head so that his left cheek was on her right temple, then he started kissing her hair. Little did it matter that her hair and her face, just like her clothes, though not wet, were dirty with and covered with salt.

"Tell me," he said as soothingly as he could after a long time, when her quiet sobbing had long stopped. He gently lifted her chin to him, without letting her out of his arms. He noticed how much smaller she seemed to him. It had been two years since he last had stood next to her and back then they were similar in height. Now he towered her by half a head, but maybe her posture made her seem even less tall. "Open your beautiful eyes, Alaera," he gently ordered her. "Please," he added and he then saw her make the effort.

"I failed," she said and new tears fell to her face. "I lost everything," she added desperately. She barely had a voice. How long had she been on this beach? Her clothes were dry but she was obviously still covered in salt and sand. Did she have to swim here?

"Where is Rexhor?" he asked all of a sudden remembering her mighty dragon whose first rider she was.

"Gone," she said and hid her face back in his chest. Never before had she held on to him with such force, with so much desperation, and because of that he understood.

"I failed him," she whispered some time later. "I failed him again," she repeated in a pained voice. "All I do is fail...."

"Never!" he said, pushing her head from him but without letting go and leaned to bring his eyes on the same level with hers. He almost violently shook her to make his words truly land. "There is no way that you could fail anyone!" he continued. "Do you understand me, Alaera?" No answer came. She held his gaze but there were depths in her light amethyst eyes that were resistant to his words.

"You don't understand!" she said at once, angry, almost screaming. "There is nowhere else to go! There is nowhere else to search!" He still didn't understand her meaning and it probably showed on his face. "There is no cure," she said once again softly, her voice barely a murmur, never breaking their eye contact. Understanding slowly dawned upon him. His features softened with compassion for the loss she was anticipating, only he knew it was probably much closer than she knew. "He is all I have," she whispered and never had he felt as much torment as her voice held.

"You have me!" he said certain of all that he held inside. She smiled sadly slowly shaking her head, her eyes dropping on the ground beneath their feet.

"Not after he closes his eyes for the last time, " she said, looking at him straight again. He understood exactly what she meant. Their father's death would separate them forever.

He was by no means impulsive. Well, not usually. Most of the time he could control himself very well. Except when anger overtook him and brought out the worst in him. But now there was something else just beneath the surface, a fire more intense that demanded to be let out. He fought for a moment or two but knew beforehand that particular battle was lost to him. He shook his head violently as if in an inner battle only he knew, watched her standing still, so resolute that they would soon become enemies, that he suddenly had to turn himself away from her, to not see her anymore. He looked all around but could not see anything. Nothing mattered, nothing but the growing ache in his chest at the thought of never meeting her again in the library or under the weirwood tree, of never again being warmed by her laughter, of never again seeing the sun when locking his eyes to hers. He stopped fighting himself and suddenly turned towards her and didn't stop his feet until he didn't clash his lips to hers claiming her whole in a single movement. He felt her utter surprise in her lack of movement and he froze thinking he had maybe completely misread her sadness as having nothing to do with him. But then she slightly moved her lips to better meet his and the world fell from existence around him when she slowly parted her lips and his tongue first touched hers. He didn't know how long it took until they were both left breathless and simply stood with their bodies flush against each other, mouths sharing the same air, both watching the other's lips move with the deep breaths they now needed.

After some long moments, she broke their contact, pulled his head to her and touched his forehead to hers. "Take me home, Aemond," she said quietly and he was all of a sudden hit by the reality of it. Once home they wouldn't be alone, as they were now. All the others would be around them, making it hard to get to her, to talk to her alone, to try to find out what had happened and who exactly he already wanted to kill for causing it. He separated himself from her and saw the distance already in her eyes. Her resolve to confront the reality she was escaping from here, alone on this island, was already steel hard. He straightened himself and nodded, never looking away from her.

None said anything as she walked to Vhagar and waited for him to first climb his dragon. She gently caressed Visenya Targaryen's old beast, the last of the three that had helped their riders conquer six of the Seven Kingdoms. Aemond heard a very quiet sound coming from his dragon who closed her immense eyes under his sister's touch, a clear sign of trust and comfort in her presence. He was almost reluctant to interrupt them for the image made something go very soft inside his chest. Something told him his older half-sister was now dragonless and, remembering her stroking, feeding and even personally washing Rexhor made him terribly sad. Once in the saddle he leaned down and offered her his hand. She looked him deeply in the eyes without taking it and he could read a renewed hesitation there. Did she consider staying here, alone?

"Together," he said in a most serious voice and her smile told him that maybe he could keep her close to him no matter what the future brought their way. She climbed behind him and held on to him in as if in an embrace for the entire flight back to the Dragonpit. He never wanted her warmth away from him. He never wanted the flight to end. But, as all good things end, this too did when Vhagar delivered them back in King's Landing. Reality hit him hard when the dragon keepers approached them and bowed deeply to Alaera then looked around them searching for her dragon. She ignored their silent question, nodded shortly giving no explanation, turned to look at him with a tinge of regret in her eyes and then started to walk towards the Red Keep.

He took a few long steps and slowed to walk beside her. They were quiet for most of the road home but he couldn't help but throw quick glances sideways to her. She either looked up in the direction of the keep already visible or down at her feet, as if gathering strength for what was awaiting her in her father's castle.

"Promise me, Aemond," he heard her voice, once again in the High Valyrian of all their private conversations. "Promise never to let Vhagar take you farther away than you were today!" she said, stopping him in his tracks by grabbing and squeezing hard his hand. He looked down to see her white knuckles and felt her cold skin on his. There was a desperation in her eyes that alarmed him and made him understand not only that something tragic had happened in this last travel of hers but also that she loved him deeply. He came closer to her and used his other hand to cup her face in it, never looking at anything but her eyes and recognizing that the fire burning there truly mirrored his own.

"I swear it, my love!" he said without thinking and only by the sudden breath she took did he realize his own words. What he still saw reflected in her eyes allowed him a glimmer of hope. But then she turned letting go of him and started walking away again as they were close to the Keep's outer gates. They were home.

Chapter Text

Princess Alaera Targaryen stood in front of the closed door hesitating. What would she find on the other side? How could she face him knowing the disappointment she was? From the moment of her birth to a childhood of quiet stubbornness to follow the rules imposed to a princess of the Realm, from her insistence to train like a boy to rejecting every marriage proposal ever presented to her and escaping on dragonback everytime pressure got too much for her free spirit. From her being away for most of her adult years and still returning empty handed. Failure was now her middle name.

She straightened her back and knocked softly on the door though she was almost certain there was no one inside beside him. She had stood there for long moments and no sound had come through the door. Maybe he was already asleep and she could escape the guilt of telling him she had found nothing of worth. She opened the door without noticing the still form of a person some meters behind watching her intently from the shadows.

Once inside she closed the door behind her and looked through the room still slightly lit with the last rays of the setting sun coming through the ample windows. She saw no movement so she walked slowly to the bed, on her way lightly touching the model of Valyria, now full of dust and spiderwebs. As she approached she could hear his raspy breathing, a sign that his health had deteriorated in the two years she had been away from Court and from Westeros. Her hand shook a little as she pushed the drape away from the right side of the bed, afraid of what she might see on the other side of it.

The sight that met her was horrifying: a body so reduced that it barely showed underneath the linens. She could barely imagine him capable of even standing anymore. His head was mostly covered in bandages, only the left side of it free. His skin, both on his face and his right hand, was ashen, with even darker areas of brown. She didn't even notice the tears silently falling on her face. She dropped on her knees next to the bed and very carefully took his hand in hers. If only she could give from her life to prolong his....or even just to make his a little bit better, she would. She knew then and there she would soon be fatherless, not only motherless. A pain greater than any she had ever felt in her body settled on her chest and threatened to take her breath away.

"Who goes there?" she heard his weak voice.

"It is only me, father," she replied, sorry to have awoken him.

"My sweet Alaera," king Viserys Targaryen said and strained to open his left eye. His second born daughter quickly tried to erase the wetness from her face. "Finally....I've been waiting for you....for so long...."

"I'm sorry," she started and desperation rose inside her. She should have stayed home, she should have remained by his side and not waste so much time chasing hopes and dreams of a mysterious cure no maester, surgeon or healer in the world knew of. "I'm so so sorry," she started crying again. She'd never cried as a child. Her mother's death had made her stern and quiet. But then her younger siblings had brought back her sunny disposition, it had been her way of trying to make their family happy, to balance the rules and expectations they were all burdened by. But since her father's health had started to worsen and the political machinations from behind locked doors had become known to her, she had turned into a sad if also driven young woman. Healing her father and keeping some sort of unity between the two factions inside her family had become her priority, her sole purpose.

"My wild child, no need to cry," he said weakly but with conviction and she felt a slight pull of her hand that held his. She raised her face to meet his eye that also had tears around it. "You are here now and that makes me happier than you know," he said and her mind flew to all the times they had sat in this very room, reading and discussing tales of old Valyria, of their dragonrider ancestors, of Aegon's conquest and the struggle for power that followed his death, principles of ruling and improving the life of the Realm's people and so much more.

"Father, I've failed you...." she said, unable to bear his loving look.

"Ooooh, Alaera...." he whispered and choked, then started to cough. It pained her to see him straining himself when it was clear he even lacked the strength of body the coughing required. She lifted him a bit, shoved more pillows to sustain his back and then looked around for something else that might help. "My tea..." he whispered and she found a cup next to his bed. She held it for him as he took a few small sips. Even that seemed to be a struggle for her ailing father. "Thank you, sweet child," he said, letting himself fall on his pillows with his eye closed. He seemed to feel better, even his breathing sounded less strained than before. Milk of the poppy, she knew, the last solution for those so very sick that no other remedy would work. She kept caressing his hand for who knows how long, admitting to herself for the first time that there was nothing more to do but be at his side and offer company and maybe some comfort. She kissed his hand reverently and exited his room to find the sun had long set and the corridor was now full of glowing candles.

She closed the door as quietly as possible and turned to find him leaning on the wall some meters away. They locked eyes and none could look away. He had changed and matured in the years she'd been away, no longer her dragonless little brother unsure of himself, but a man who exuded confidence and purpose. He reminded her a bit of herself at his age, back when her search was still full of hope, when she still had plans and lists of places where healers were rumored to be able to cure even the most severe diseases.

They started toward each other at the same time and stopped when they were only a handreach away. "I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence after long moments of searching her features with his inquisitive right eye.

"You warned me," she said and her own guilt made her unable to sustain his gaze. She knew he admired her still, as much or even more than when he had been a child or a teenager. She saw that and so much more in his look, a warmth and affection she felt unworthy of. The passion he had shown her earlier in the day scared her deeply, as she'd thought him too stern to ever let himself display that much fire.

He slowly covered that last stretch between them and delicately cupped her left cheek with his hand while his lips softly touched her forehead. The warmth that enveloped her made another chip in the armor she had shielded her heart with. When he took his lips away from her skin, she raised her eyes to him and knew she was truly home. Their interactions today had felt so natural and right, so comforting and loving, but then why did a small voice inside her warn of impending doom?

"Princess Alaera, welcome home!" she heard her step-mother's voice. How come none of them had heard her steps approaching?

"Thank you, your grace," she answered, turning to her left where the queen stopped and bowing her head slightly.

"You look...famished, my dear," Alicent Hightower remarked with no meanness in her voice. "Have you eaten yet?" Alaera did not miss the queen's eyes slipping between her and Aemond next to her.

"I wanted to first see the king," she answered.

"Well, I'll send dinner to your room," the older woman said. "And we should have some new dresses fitted to your figure," she continued studying her step daughter's body with critical eyes.

"No need, my queen," she said, smiling bitterly. "They would be wasted on me!"

"Do you not plan to stay with us long?" the queen inquired and Alaera heard a sharp intake of breath from her right side where Aemond stood watching her exchange with his mother. She could not help herself from quickly looking at him. She knew the danger there and felt her resolve diminish under his intense look and all it promised.

"I am here for the king. I will stay for as long as my father wants me here," she replied not leaving any doubt to any of them.

"Then we shall surely enjoy your presence for the foreseeable future, princess!" the woman clad in dark green replied with a somehow forced smile on her face. She turned her gaze to her son and said, "Aemond, I need a word with you. Sleep well, princess!" and she turned to walk away.

"Thank you. Good night, my queen," Alaera said and watched the woman walk slowly away, obviously expecting her second son to follow at once. He delayed for a moment, looked at her with intent and she felt there was much left unspoken. He then nodded shortly and followed his mother somewhat reluctantly.

Had her stepmother just saved her from a conversation she deemed herself totally unprepared for?

Chapter Text

Prince Aemond Targaryen had only love and respect for his mother but, for the first time in his life, did not care about her opinion. "You can't be serious, Aemond!" she had exclaimed the moment he had shut the door to her room behind them. He quietly watched her and waited for her to continue, but his stillness only seemed to amplify the queen's anger.

"Don't you see, Aemond?" she had continued, grabbing his arm as he'd stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back, looking over her head. "She is Rhaenyra's sister, more than yours! Open your eye, boy!" his mother had exclaimed. That made him look at her again.

"SHE is my father's daughter. SHE has shown me and your other children nothing but kindness and love, mother," he'd said with conviction, leaving no doubt about his affection for his older half-sister. The look of shock on his mother's face told him how unexpected this was to Alicent Hightower, that her most loyal and steadfast son would disregard her opinion.

"I don't know what happened between you two on that island," she'd said hoping that he would fill the holes, but he kept that memory to himself, like most of what truly mattered to him. "But do you actually believe she would stand beside you against Rhaenyra when time comes?" she'd continued some long moments later and touched the only unknown fact that kept him from running to Alaera's door even now. His lack of answer had amplified his mother's resolve to point all that stood against his deepest desire. "For the love of the Seven, Aemond, she's ELEVEN years older than you, my sweet boy!" she'd said coming close to him and taking his face in her hand and forcing him to look at her. When he'd finally met her stare, desperation had been obvious in both her voice and and her eyes. He hated causing her so much distress. He'd lived his life doing his absolute best to make his mother proud, as it had been clear to him how many other difficulties she'd encountered in her marriage to his father and in managing his older brother, Aegon.

He'd left his mother's room without a word. He felt it made no sense to recount to her all the times through his entire life when Alaera had been a true and loving sister to him, how she'd always tried to make him smile, how she'd encouraged him to try again no matter how many times he'd failed at something, be it learning his letters, riding a horse, speaking High Valyrian or bonding a dragon. Never had disappointment shown on her face when looking at him. But none of that would matter to his mother, only her being the true sister of Rhaenyra, his mother's old childhood friend who'd betrayed her trust in some unforgivable way he was not aware of. Once again, it was Rhaenyra who stood between him and what he wanted. His hate for his oldest half-sister only increased. That whore not only birthed bastards that now were ahead of him in the line of succesion to the Iron Throne of the Targaryens, but also most probably held the loyalty of the woman he knew was meant for him. Although the hour was late, he could not find the peace to lay in his bed and close his eyes. He stopped resisting and went to her door. He knocked a few times but no answer came.

"Alaera, I'm coming in," he said and pushed the door open. He looked around her room but could not find her anywhere. Only a couple of candles burned but the room looked just as uninhabited as it had a few weeks ago when he'd last visited it. On the table by the window he found an open book, the same she'd left there before departing the last time, "A History of the Targaryen Dynasty". He took it and read a few lines from the pages it was opened on. It described the death of Aegon Targaryen the Uncrowned together with his dragon Quicksilver at the hand of his uncle Maegor Targaryen flying Balerion the Black Dread who had usurped his nephew's throne almost a century ago. Last time he had been here the book had been closed, he knew that for sure.

He decided to give her the space she probably needed and left her room without noticing that the object of all his thoughts was sitting quietly on the balcony's side ledge, resting her back on the outside wall of her room, one leg stretched before her, the other dangling from the outer brink.

Sleep did not easily come to him that night. When he awoke he didn't delay in looking for her again. He needed to know if he was alone in this torment or if some hope existed. The door to her room was opened so he just walked in to find a maid making the bed.

"The princess?" he asked.

"She was already gone when I came to wake her earlier, my prince," the young woman said with a small curtsy. He left without a word. Next place to look was the library where she'd spent so much of her free time growing up. He would always find her there reading whenever she was home. She wasn't there and also not with the rest of the family in the dining room where breakfast was being served.

"Aemond, come break your fast with us," his mother said when seeing him. She was there with his sister Helaena, Aegon probably still sleeping off another debauched night, or maybe not even returned from it. It sickened him to think the unfairness of that degenerate being the older of them.

"I'm not hungry," he said in a harsher tone than he had planned to use.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Dragon of green searching dragon of red, wild at heart," his sister Helaena mumbled, staring at him. Not for the first time he suspected his sister to be much more than an idiot as his brother Aegon thought his sister-wife.

He left them to their meal and suddenly knew where Alaera would be. He found her in the king's room, sitting relaxed in a high backed chair next to his bed, reading in an animated voice to their father who was quite awake and looked at his daughter with much affection. He stood on the other side of the see-through curtains that separated the antechamber from the sleeping area, watching them between the flowing drapes moving in the pleasant breeze. He did not want to interrupt them as it was clear to him they were enjoying a very warm moment. He could only see her left arm on the side of the chair with some strands of her silver-white loose curls falling on it, so he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of her crystalline voice. The book was of course a history of the Targaryens of Old Valyria, but Alaera kept on interrupting the text with side remarks, some of them ironic or amusing, that made the king smile every once in a while or even contradict her or argue that she was mocking her ancestors.

"My prince," a Maester exclaimed, surprised by seeing him after entering the king's chamber. In truth he was not often seen in his father's room. This of course interrupted the pleasant moment between father and daughter taking place before him and the two looked in his direction surprised to not have been alone.

"My boy, come to see me?" he heard the king say.

"Good morning, father," he said sternly.

"Come, come," his father said warmly. "Sit," he said, "here, next to your sister," he motioned with his hand in Alaera's direction. Aemond brought himself a chair and sat looking shortly at her and finding her smiling warmly to him. "You've grown, my boy!" Viserys remarked and Aemond felt guilty for not having visited in a long time. His mother's reports always said his father was too tired or in too much pain to receive visitors. Not that Aemond was very anxious to see him. His condition made him uncomfortable and the thought of maybe someday having himself that disease frightened him to his core. "Two visitors in one day... You make this old man very happy, my children!" their father continued.

"Aemond and Vhagar brought me home from the Stepstones, father," she said, her voice deepening a bit. She looked lovingly between the two of them and Aemond noticed again a warm feeling enveloping his heart.

"Well done, my son!" Viserys said and started coughing but quieted soon after.

"We were lucky to be flying in the area," Aemond said then modestly. He had thought about that, about Vhagar taking him exactly where she was stranded alone, in need of help.

"Luck....or fate?" the king said. "Or maybe all the time you spent around dragons when you were a little girl created a connection..." Aemond could not believe his most crazy thought was actually put into words by his ailing father. He looked at his sister and found no surprise on her features, but a small one-sided smile. He knew at once it was the truth: Alaera had indeed called to Vhagar that day. Had it been on purpose, though? Or just an instinct, a need of help sensed by his experienced old dragon?

He stayed with them a little bit more and it was some of the nicest times he ever had with his father. When the maesters came to change the king's dressings, they were sent away. He followed her outside and didn't wait long to ask her, "Where were you last night?"

"Enjoying the night air," she answered, starting to walk away.

"Are you avoiding me, Alaera?" he inquired, following her but remaining a step behind her.

"Why would you think that, little brother?" she asked, not stopping.

"I'm not a little boy anymore," he said, grabbing her arm with just enough strength to stop her. "Look at me, Alaera," he said, coming close to her so that they breathed the same air. He noticed her chest raising with deeper breaths, as if affected by his proximity. Or so he hoped.

She raised her eyes to his and said nothing. "Talk to me," he said quietly. His eye kept slipping between her amethyst eyes and her parted lips and the distance between their mouths slowly grew smaller.

"I'm glad you came to see father today," she said as he was about to kiss her. He was certain she did that on purpose to change the direction of their interaction.

"I came looking for you, Alaera," he replied, not moving.

"I know," she said with a small smile but in a sad tone. "True as it is, it's also the wrong reason," she added, pulling her hand from his and leaving him. He breathed out frustrated, took a few deep breaths and started in the direction she had gone in.

He reached her just as she was entering the chambers of their sister Helaena who was sitting quietly with an embroidery in her hand. Her children Jahaera and Jahaerys were playing on the floor under her caring if somewhat distanced gaze.

"My sweet Helaena, I've missed you terribly!" Alaera exclaimed going in. The younger woman lifted her eyes to their older sister and dropped the handwork on the floor.

"I knew you'd escape, sister!" Heleana jumped from the sofa, ran to her and embraced her tightly. Aemond followed Alaera in and stopped, watching the scene. Alaera was completely frozen in shock at Helaena's words. She wasn't even embracing their sister back.

"You....saw me?" she whispered looking at Helaena intently when the other woman finally let her go.

"Wild dragon chained in blood, reborn in fire," Helaena said with a quick nod of her head while still holding Alaera's hands clasped in hers. Aemond saw his elder sister completely stunned, even terrified by the words. Could it be that Alaera didn't even remember some of the things that had happened to her?

"Blood and fire will follow whatever way, take everything...." their sister continued, not even aware of Alaera's frozen expression or of his own presence. But her words were sure to stay with her two siblings.

Chapter Text

Princess Alaera Targaryen could not look away from her younger sister's eyes. She saw a fire there that threatened to swallow her whole. Helaena smiled but was already detached from the impending doom her words suggested to Alaera's discerning mind. Deep down, she knew Helaena was a dragon dreamer, a Targaryen gifted with dreams and visions of things past and future, as Daenys Targaryen had been, foretelling the fall of Old Valyria and, in doing so, ensuring her family's survival. She had always paid attention to her sister's words and filled countless pages with them, adding in time her theories on the possible meanings.

She dropped her eyes to the hand Helaena was letting go of and saw it surrounded by flames, skin broiling, burned flesh dropping from the bones underneath. She gasped and blinked, but the vision was already gone when she opened her eyes anew. She stretched her hand, turned it, but it looked once again normal, healthy, unmarked. And then she realized: she had wounded her left hand many times while training with swords and had acquired several scars that were now nowhere to be seen. Her skin was intact, unmarred as if she was once again a small child. She started to frantically look for all the scars she knew she'd had. They had never before given her a second thought as beauty mattered little to a woman not interested in men's attention and favor. She started pulling at the sleeves of her dress searching for long healed cuts from swordplaying, then lifted her skirt to look for the mark left by a stone embedding itself in her right knee so long ago, when she'd been but a child running to her mother. It was nowhere to be found. She was shaking, not even seeing those around her. Helaena was back at sawing while Aemond came next to her and watched her intently.

"What's wrong? Tell me!" he said in an alarmed voice. She lifted her eyes to him but it still didn't make sense to her.

"Where did this happen, Helaena?" she asked, turning again to her younger sister.

"The dragon dreamer saved her line, wild dragons always go back," she answered while still continuing with her sawing.

"Valyria..." Alaera whispered to herself. She went to Helaena and dropped on her knees next to her feet. "Helaena, tell me what else you saw," she asked pleadingly.

Helaena shook her head violently not even meeting her stare. "Wild dragon chained in blood, reborn in fire, blood and fire will follow, wild dragon chained in blood, reborn in fire, blood and fire will follow, wild dragon chained in blood, reborn in fire, blood and fire will follow," she chanted shutting her eyes and shaking with increased violence as if avoiding to see some indescribable horror.

Alaera forcefully pulled herself out of her shocked state and stood up. How had she come to the Stepstones and from where? She knew Rexhor had saved her, but from what? There was a hole in her memories and she feared dwelling on it for too long. What had she traded only to return without the only thing she had searched for? And now her little sister was distressed because of her insistence and all she could think to do was to sit next to her, to embrace the younger woman and stroke her hair until she quieted down. Aemond came next to them and sat himself at their feet, trying to give Helaena some assurance by holding her right hand. She did eventually settle in her elder sister's embrace, with her head on Alaera's shoulder who kept kissing her forehead. As much as Helaena's state and her visions occupied most of her mind, she couldn't ignore the comfort Aemond's other hand slowly caressing her knee gave her. That only added to her other worries.

When she left the room, he quietly followed. None said a word until they reached her room. Alaera went to the table that held a water mug and a glass, poured herself and drank from shaking hands.

"What do you remember?" he asked, coming closer to her.

"Nothing...until just now," she said and looked at her hand again. The vision was just a memory, but she would never forget it.

"And now?" he insisted in a firm but also assuring voice from behind her, so close that she could almost feel his front on her back. Or was it wishful thinking?

She shook her head, trying to clear it, but of what? His presence was almost intoxicating and she couldn't understand why. It wasn't as if she'd had any interest in a man in...well, most of her life. She found women to be so much more beautiful, interesting, attractive, elegant.... But here was her little brother stealing her breath everytime he locked his stare to hers.

He did take that last small step and glued his chest to her back, enveloping her in his scent and his presence. He bowed his head over her shoulder to better see and took her hands in his, then turned them this way and that way, studying them attentively.

"I see nothing out of the ordinary," he said after some long moments.

She slightly turned her face toward his and stopped her lips just before brushing against his left cheek marred by the long scar that stretched from his forehead over his eye socket now covered in a dark leather patch and all the way underneath it. It didn't bother her at all, she found it to be just as much a part of him as her training leathers were of her. Defining, but not at all robbing of any quality. Maybe even enhancing. "Look closer," she whispered against his face and felt a quick tremble of his body still draped around hers.

He turned his gaze to her face and his eye dropped to her slightly parted lips. In that moment her thoughts slipped to this game they were playing and noticed how her chances at winning it were being destroyed. And how she would most probably love to lose it.

"Look again. What do you see?" she insisted and turned again to her hands still held in his. He groaned very softly in frustration but then turned his lavandel eye back down. He lightly touched her skin with only his fingertips with delicate movements she would not have expected of him, then slowly moving them from her fingers up to her arms and all the way to her shoulders, again and again. She could hear his breathing in her ear and noticed her heart starting to race in her chest.

"Perfection," he whispered with reverence and she slightly turned her face to her right to meet his gaze. She saw all she needed and also feared in his look. He wasted no more than a couple of moments and then slowly brushed his lips to hers. Although the lightest of kisses, a surge of energy coursed through her body making her shake. She'd never experienced that with any of her previous partners. She laid her left hand on his left one that now covered her abdomen pulling her even more into him, then entwined her fingers with his. His right hand guided her face sideways to better fit his, while his tongue slowly tasted her lips, compelling them to open to him. She used her right hand to stroke his neck, then strayed into his silky hair, all the while using a bit of pressure to pull him even more, if that was possible, to her. An explosion of heat filled her when she parted her lips and he invaded her, touching her, tasting her with no restraint. His right hand then slipped lower on her neck, again with light fingertips sending fine tremors through her body. He laid it on her chest where she knew her heart beat as hard as she'd ever felt it. After long moments they both lost all air and separated to take deep breaths, searching each other's gaze. She was completely surrounded by his body and, though that should have made her feel entrapped, all she felt was joy and comfort, excitement and security at the same time. She closed her eyes savoring the moment as she knew it could not truly last.

After some time, he turned her to him somehow without ever letting her out of his arms. He took his eyepatch off in a smooth movement and she saw the sapphire he wore there. He did it only at specific times that held some deeper meaning to him. She brought his face lower to her level and placed small light kisses all over it, stopping more around his left eye socket. It had never mattered to her that his face was marred, it took nothing away of what she loved about him. She hoped he knew that much about her, if not all that had happened to her during the long periods of time she'd been away.

"Marry me, Alaera," he whispered, never taking his eye from hers. She did not expect that. A declaration of passion, of lust mixed with affection, yes, but not an offer of marriage. She knew his mother would be completely against it. She had seen that reflected on the queen's face all those years ago when their father had suggested they should marry and she'd made a joke to not offend the feelings of a stern, already wounded boy of 13.

"Aemond..." she started to say but he cut her off.

"I love you, I've loved you all my life, I think....I've watched you come and go so many times, I started counting time only around the days you spent here. I cannot imagine anyone else I would want forever by my side," he said with a bit of strain in his voice, still holding her flush against his body. "I want no one else," he added and she felt the truth of that in his lower body pressed to hers. "Nor will I ever," he continued.

A stray tear fell on her face and he quickly caught it with his lips. She watched the tip of his tongue taste it and all her resolve to reject him, without hurting his feelings if possible, almost melted away. But not quite.

"We should have done it back when father first suggested it," she said smiling, some regret mixed in. "I think he saw us better than we ever did see ourselves," she continued, lost in his gaze. "But I wasn't worthy of you, not even then!"

"Worthy? What the f...?" he started but she laid the tips of her fingers on his lips.

"You are your mother's son, raised in the Faith of the Seven and that is not who I am," she explained. "That is not how I have lived my life, Aemond!" She saw some clarity appear in his eye

"I don't care about that...." he said and she broke out of his arms.

"You don't understand, little brother." she said and her tone became serious. "I am not a maid waiting to be taken to the Sept and cloaked under your protection, Aemond!" she said slightly mocking and the short pang of pain in his gaze hurt her too. But she had to make him see her for who she truly was now, not just for the sister he grew up with. "I have traveled the world even beyond what our maps show, Aemond...and I have tasted what life has to offer. Yes, I have mostly closed myself in libraries and scoured thousands of writings after a cure for our father, but there were nights when loneliness made me look for warmth and pleasure in the arms of people I was most definitely not married to. They blame Rhaenyra for..."

"You are nothing like Rhaenyra!" he interrupted furiously. She knew the mention of their older sister would provoke him, but she needed to know him too. She had loved the young boy he had been and now his strong and quiet demeanor, as a grown man, was more attractive than she would have thought herself capable of responding to. But she wanted to see how deep his mother's poison had infiltrated his being, for that was what she would have to contend with in the times to come.

".... I am so much worse than her, don't you understand?" she said with half a smile on her lips. "She was married to a man who would have rather shared his bed with his squire. So what if she found love somewhere else? Are we not all entitled to that, do you think?" she said softly hoping to coax a confirmation from him.

"She is a princess of the Realm and should have kept the oath she made under the eyes of the Seven!" he replied rigidly.

" Like Aegon did? What about Helaena? Doesn't she deserve respect from her husband?" she countered bringing their asshole brother and sweet sister, his true siblings, in to better sustain her idea.

"He's a man..." he said, slightly quieter looking to the side to avoid her provoking stare. Frustration oozed out of him. At least he would forget the marriage proposal. She even hoped he wouldn't want anything of that sort with her anymore. Yes, he had awoken strong feelings in her but she would extinguish whatever fire surged to the surface whenever he touched her. She had long ago forced herself to not form any emotional attachment to lovers. She had trained both her mind and her body to better suit her chosen purpose. But what was left to her now, after having failed it? A mind full of healing knowledge, all but the one she had frantically searched for, a body trained for the sword, and a tender heart hidden for too long. What was she now that her father lay dying?

"Oaths are equal to both man and woman, aren't they?" she wondered as if not knowing for sure, trying to make him see beyond the rigidity of the faith she had known, even as a child, was not hers.

He took deep breaths, she knew were meant to quiet his inner rage and, maybe, his hurt ego. His gaze became less angered and he turned sideways toward the door but stopped and looked her again. "They would be to me," he said and his voice, just as his gaze, expressed deep regret. She knew what it meant. They were on soon-to-be opposite sides of a conflict she had tried to avoid for most of her life.

He left quietly and she felt a chill go through her body, as if a freezing cold had just enveloped her heart and was now covering in frost the lone bloom there.

Chapter Text

Prince Aemond Targaryen was seen more and more walking the Red Keep, either to the dining hall or the library and even the godswood outside. Never before had he been by the King's quarters more than once a month at the most, if even that. Now he would walk by, maybe even look inside, as if searching for something or someone, at least once or twice a day.

He couldn't stop himself from searching for her. He had repeatedly gone through their last changed words, he had searched his memory for all of her gestures, had remembered her every touch again and again, her hands in his, on his face, on his neck, her fingers in his hair, her lips on his, her tongue entangled with his.... None of it convinced him that she did not love him or that she did not want him, even if maybe not as much as he did her. That did not bother him. What bothered him was that she seemed unwilling to risk it all for him as he would for her, without a second thought.

So he walked everywhere in hope of seeing her and finding that she was looking for him too. A few days had passed and it looked more and more like she somehow avoided meeting him alone. Sure, they had intersected at meals in the dining room a couple of times or in Helaena's quarters, but her gaze had not encouraged him to approach her later. She had been kind and friendly, all sunshine and smiles again, but that was not the true Alaera he longed for. He sat underneath the weirwood remembering her sad, her small smiles he would bring out and feel so proud of, the growing affection of those moments, the quiet comfort of shared silence between their younger selves.

"We've been waiting for you all morning, my Prince!" Ser Criston Cole, his mother the Queen's loyal protector and his sword fighting instructor said when they met by chance close to the exit to the training yard.

"My apologies, Cole," he said, frustrated by his own forgetting of the training hours. He was turning to continue but Criston's words halted him at once.

"Even Princess Alaera deigned to show up early today," the man said with a small smile on his lips. No other man knew Aemond as well as Ser Criston. He had been the princes' trainer from an early age, back when the boys had gathered almost daily in the yard to learn the art of wielding a sword. By that time Alaera , being older, was better than all of them, although her road had been much more difficult. The other knights of the Kingsguard often talked of her insistence as an eight year old girl, recently left motherless, to learn the sword. They had first tried to turn her away, but she came alone and tried to swing the wooden sword against imaginary opponents, copying the movements she had seen them make. They had then offered her help with the bow and arrow, all that she would give up the thought of learning the sword. She had fiercely applied herself and mastered it in less time than they would have thought if possible of a young girl...or even of a boy her age. When she had finally found no more challenge in that, she had quietly turned to the wooden swords again, until the King had allowed it. "Let the Princess find out for herself what it means to wield the sword," he had said and no knight had outright refused her again. "Maybe the difficulty of it will deter her!" he had said hopeful. It had not.

By the time Aemond came as a young boy to the yard, most of the knights offered her example in discipline and commitment to her half-brothers and later to her nephews too. Aegon dismissed it and made constant jokes about it, but Aemond noticed their sister going about as if not even affected by his words. She had the Lord Commander as trainer and none could deny her mastery or her technique.

Ser Criston turned to the yard and Aemond followed, recognizing to himself the bait he had just taken. He couldn't blame Cole, as he had exposed his admiration for his older half-sister even as a young boy.

"Ser Criston....and my brother, how nice of you to join us on this fine day!" Alaera exclaimed as if surprised by seeing the two men enter the training yard.

"Princess," Cole said respectfully, though, as always, slightly critical of her allowed presence on a territory reserved only to men, at least in his view.

"Sister," Aemond said, stopping opposite her, expecting something more from her, not wanting to show any of his hurt pride or of his still hopeful intentions.

"Ser Criston, I have neglected the spear for far too long. I truly came to love its mastery in my time in Dorne. Will you do me the honor of testing my knowledge of it?" she said, turning slightly to Cole who had stopped behind him.

"Princess, I see no need for you to train when you have us beside you should danger arise!" he said, denying her request.

"If only you'd someday surprise me, Ser Criston, and allow yourself the clarity of seeing beyond appearance...." she said knowing exactly who Criston Cole was and what he thought of her unladylike endeavors. As the story goes, Criston Cole had been fierce against her learning the sword and never deigned to teach her. "Thank the gods for your Lord Commander who proved impartial to the circumstances of my gender and became my respected master of arms," she said and inclined her head to Ser Harrold.

"You are completely wrong, my Princess!" Lord Commander Westerling said, smiling knowingly.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "Have I imagined all the training hours of my younger years?" she said jokingly.

"I only meant to say I was never impartial, my Princess. Your talent, your discipline and persistence in the face of imperfection and failure have all made me quite partial to your training," he said with some mischief in the last words. "Never have I been more proud of a student in this yard," he said, head bowing shortly.

"You honor me, Ser Harrold. I owe my life to your training which, together with my dragon, has kept me alive through long and dangerous times abroad. Her voice showed how deeply indebted she felt to the man who had taken his time to teach a girl, even if one of very noble birth. "But let me not waste your time, Ser Criston," she said and turned to the Cargyll brothers who were also there. "Will any of you, good Sers, deign to spar with me?" she asked and they looked at each other, smiled and walked forth at the same time. "Both of you? How wonderful," she said and winked in Aemond's direction.

"Princess, I find that completely inappropriate," Cole exclaimed.

"You are perfectly right, Ser Criston! What should we do?" she wondered. "Oh! I will simply need a second sword," she then said with a shrug. "You could have stood and faced me, maybe even proved to me how - inappropriate, was it?- my presence here is!" she replied not even looking at the dark haired man, while searching for another sword beside hers. "But now is just too late! See to your favorite and let me have my fun with those willing, Ser!"

Aemond watched mesmerized how Alaera met the two twin knights in a dance of four swords. Of course they didn't attack her at once but they certainly ensured she had no downtime between their assaults. She seemed to be able to follow them both without much trouble and, knowing she could not match them in strength, she didn't even try, really! She tripped one of them, then turned on the other one, pushed one only to then swipe her sword over the knees of the other, not restricting herself to fending off, but attacking in full force.

"I do really hope you would protect my father with more fierceness than that," she provoked them, noticing their slight reluctance. The two men shortly looked to their Lord Commander who then nodded slightly in approval. From that point on the fight became harder to follow, faster, more violent. She used her slighter frame and her speed to parry the blow of one while avoiding the other, then her feet to throw one to the ground while meeting the single sword of the other with both of hers. By the end of it their breaths of exhaustion were just as deep as hers.

"Thank you for the consideration you've shown me, good Sers," she said and inclined her head to them. Her words were an acknowledgement that she knew they could have truly hurt her had she not been a princess and a woman, but Aemond was not sure more than one of the two men would have survived a true fight.

He saw her then approach one of the twins and exchange a few words with him. Ser Erryk Cargyll nodded his agreement and placed his right hand on his left chest, head bowed. But what had he just agreed to? Aemond wondered and decided to find out.

"I'll leave you fine men to your training," she said departing the yard. "Maybe next time, Ser Criston," she said, turning in the door with an ironic smile and a wink.

"Princess," was all Cole said in acknowledgement.

She departed without another word and Aemond felt more alone than he had been a moment ago. As if her simple presence was enough to fill some empty space inside of him. He would have gladly followed but he had perceived no invitation from her, no sign that she wanted his presence, so he held himself back. He was proud enough to want her to eventually come to him, for her to declare herself to him as he had already done. But that decision did not hold long. Later that day he found himself again passing by his father's chambers and, to his surprise, the door was ajar and, through the opening, he could hear her voice. He could not resist the temptation to walk in and listen in to their conversation, so he stepped as quietly as he could in the shadows on the left side of the room, further from the windows, until he came close to the drapes separating the bedroom area from the antechamber.

"Why do you insist on that, father?" she asked in a tone full of annoyance.

"My sweet child, I want you safe and happy. It is all a father could ever hope for his daughter," he said in his raspy voice, but more alert than he had been over the past couple of days.

"I know and I thank you for that. The future....I see no happiness there," she said and her voice sounded as an acknowledgement of a hidden thought.

"The boy truly loves you, only a fool would not see that. Why not marry him?" their father said in a warm and kind tone.

"I can not give him what he wants," she said and sadness covered her words.

"What is that, dragon-child?"

"You know what, father," she said and her voice became ice cold.

"Children, Alaera? You are not that old...." he countered appeasingly.

"I was there, my King," she said after the longest pause.

"I do not unders..." their father started to say.

"I was there when mother gave birth to Baelon," she intervened, her tone cold. He heard her body shift in her chair, probably sitting up from her laid back relaxed position he had shortly seen her in when the curtains had moved with the breeze and slightly opened to his view. "I had been there before, curious why she cried while you rejoiced outside, those previous times. But that last time....and with a tournament in full swing outside and mother screaming in pain.... I had to see, I had to know...."

"Oh, my poor little Alaera...." the King moaned. "You shouldn't have been there," he added, equally pained.

"Maybe, but I don't regret it. As heartbreaking as it was to hear my mother scream in pain until she died from blood loss, I learned that day the most important lesson from you, my father."

"No, no..." their father said, moaning with a suffering that was most probably not of the flesh.

"You showed me what ambition does to a good man and who truly pays the ultimate price for it," she said keeping her voice steady, her words cutting.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my child....I'm so very sorry..." he lamented on and on.

"I know," she said assuringly and bowed to caress the man's hand and face. "I'm sure you regret that day, but I later understood your decision. Mother was dying no matter what, Baelon had a chance at least," she said with love and suffering now mingled in her tone. Could she truly forgive their father for the decision to save his baby knowing full well her mother would die? Was she really that selfless? Aemond's thought was interrupted by movement and the swishing sound of fabric.

"I swore that day it would never be me," he heard her say, her voice now clearer. "I will not be a breeding mare, used to bring little dragons into the world, to strengthen the family and add to the line of succession," she said and parted the curtains just in front of him. She looked him straight and there was nothing but conviction in her cold eyes. "I will never lay in a birthing bed for a man's ambition!" she added now for his ears more then for their father's.

"How about for a man's love?" he whispered softly, trying to put all his adoration and compassion in his words. They looked at each other deeply for long moments and he felt as if he was holding his breath awaiting her response. There was so much going on behind her amethyst eyes, a battle of sorts taking place inside of her and he had no idea if he even stood a chance. He knew it wasn't fair to Alaera to ask her to take that risk with him but he simply couldn't allow himself to give her up. A tear ran down her cheek and she covered the small distance left between them, put a hand on his chest above his heart and lightly touched her lips to his. There was only desperation and pain in that kiss, he sensed and it broke him to be the cause of so much torment. When she parted from him she simply turned to their father and closed the curtains behind her.

"I'm so sorry, my wild child...." he heard his father say quietly.

"It's all behind us, father," she said soothingly.

Aemond left them to clear his mind. Only in his room did he allow all his sorrow for the child she had been flow out of him.

He now understood why she had always rejected marriage, be it to the 13 year old him or to several other lords of the Realm come to petition for her hand. He could remember a couple of engagements planned without her knowing that she had escaped on dragonback. He even remembered that some 5 years ago, almost half a year after her latest departure, a news had reached them that Princess Alaera Targaryen had married Lord Alaric Dayne of Starfall. He had seriously beaten two squires and his elder brother Aegon during training that day. She had returned home a few months later, already widowed, for she had married an ailing man of 84 who had not been able to move his body for the last decade or so. It all made sense to him now. She feared becoming her mother, even after having been witness to his mother's and her sister's uncomplicated births. Even their younger sister Helaena had had no trouble bringing the twins Jaehaera and Jaehaerys to the world three years prior and Maelor just a year ago . But the wound the child inside her had been inflicted would never truly heal, no matter how many women around her would birth healthy children.

He walked aimlessly the Keep, passing and stopping several times at her door. What could he do or say to comfort the girl Alaera had been who had watched her mother die under the knife? He finally settled for the library where a fire was already warming the growing darkness of the night. This was where he had always taken solace from whatever had hurt or angered him in his younger years. Sometimes he had found his favorite sibling here, whenever she had not been away. For some time he didn't even search to see if maybe he was not alone. Still lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt a chill and only then noticed the open door to the balcony. He went to close it and stopped dead in his tracks. There, outside, on the right side ledge, sat the one who occupied all his thoughts and dreams. Back against the outer wall of the Keep, legs stretched before her on the ledge, not showing any fear of falling to her right where there was only air, eyes ahead over the water, where the sun would rise on the other side of night.

Aemond watched her for a time, but she did not acknowledge his presence, so he leaned against the wall on his right, not wanting to force anything but quiet companionship on his most beloved person. In that moment he resolved to be just what she wanted him to be, to put his wishes second to her needs, no matter what they might be. His patience was finally rewarded when she turned her gaze to him. He came closer to her but stopped just short of touching her left arm to give her time to reject his approach. She looked up at him and he recognized the conflict still taking place in her mind. He had just resolved his, but hers was so much deeper and more painful, he understood, it would not be settled in mere hours. He even feared the resolution she would eventually make and so he decided to be as supportive as possible in the meantime, to take whatever she could give and be happy to have her closer than ever before. She rested her head against his chest and his heart quickened in his chest. It would be enough.

He surrounded her back with his right arm and laid his hand on her right shoulder pulling her slightly more against him and waited for any small sign of rejection. When none came, he kissed the top of her head and settled his chin on it. He couldn't tell how long they stood like that but the cold night slowly cooled their skin. Later he sensed her lightly trembling, so he put his left arm under her knees wanting to lift her but she climbed down herself and they walked inside. She sat in front of the burning fire and watched the flames without a word. Not wanting to upset or even disturb her, he took seat a small distance away on the same sofa. She laid a hand between them and, after a time, he covered it with his own, as he had so many times before in the Godswood under the weirwood tree.

Some time later she got up and put a few new logs on the weaning fire, then returned next to him, but seated herself closer than before and leaned her head on his shoulder. She intertwined the fingers of her left hand with his right ones without ever saying a word, but he sensed her slowly relax. Aemond realized then this was so much more than enough, knowing she chose to stay by his side in peaceful quietness, not requiring anything else but his presence. He kissed her forehead and didn't even notice a tear falling from his right eye and landing on her face beneath his. She lifted her eyes to him, caressed his face with her right hand, her left one still bonded with his right one, and lifted her lips to softly touch his. He did nothing, forced himself not to respond although it physically hurt to hold back when all he wanted was to grab her whole and make her his. There was much contained in that long but soft kiss, affection, restrained passion, fear of the future, unwillingness to let go, yearning, so he simply let her do whatever she wanted. His needs meant nothing as long as she was suffering. She wanted him, he understood, but on her own rules. So he would not push in any way. When she separated her lips from his, he took his hand from hers, then turned to lie on the sofa, lifted her and settled her sideways in his lap, her left side settled on him, head on his chest, his right hand caressing her back, his lips intermittently kissing her forehead and her hair, his left hand covering her right one which had rested on his heart. Nothing had ever felt this good in all his life. True, he was still young, but this was where he was supposed to be, and this woman was the only one who brought him peace, the one who quieted his restlessness and soothed his own insecurities.

Prince Aemond Targaryen woke up alone, covered in a soft blanket, but happier than he had felt years before when he had first taken to the skies on Vhagar's back.

Chapter Text

Prince Aemond Targaryen was full of hope. It wasn't his natural state to be optimistic but his own decision and Alaera's tacit acceptance had given him more hope than he dared admit. Maybe they wouldn't be all he wanted them to be, but as long as she was there, he was content. So he walked more spirited the halls of the Keep searching for her presence but not finding it. Again. Was she ever where he expected her to be? Probably not. But that made her even more fascinating then he already thought her. Not finding her in any of the common places, he resolved to think her bathing in her own room and went about his day without worry. Later he stopped by Helaena's hoping to find their elder sibling there.

"Helaena, how are you today?" he asked, looking around the room more than at his sister.

"Looking for someone, brother?" Helaena asked in response, a rare smile on her lips. She was more insightful than people gave her credit, Aemond admitted to himself.

"Have you seen Alaera today?" he asked, deciding to be honest.

"We broke fast together earlier, but she has other things to do," she answered.

"What other things do you mean, sister?" he asked, intrigued by the notion that Helaena knew the whereabouts of Alaera better than he did.

"Pale dragons born of green, red their salvation, stone their escape," she said thoughtful, going about her needlework. He then noticed she was, maybe for the first time in his recollection, embroidering a dragon. Helaena was the only one of his true born siblings that had quietly rejected the Hightower green and had settled years ago on wearing mostly blue and therefore showed no overt allegiance to either of the two sides of the Targaryen family.

"A red dragon, Helaena?" he asked, drawing closer and watching her hands move with intent.

"Red the blood of the dragon flows, red is unity," she went on looking Aemond straight as if what she was saying was common knowledge, easily understood by all, not just by her.

"Helaena, I don't..." he started to say but his mother came in and he decided to go before she questioned him on the one subject they did not agree upon.

His steps took him by his fathers rooms just as Alaera was exiting them. She stopped as if awestruck by his presence there and he had time to look her over. She wore a simple red dress that was still a bit loose on her body, her long silver locks falling freely around her head and shoulders. She had much improved since her return but was still leaner than she had been before leaving two years ago. He noticed her face relax and a shy smile appear only to then realize it was a mirror of his own reaction to seeing her. He extended his right hand toward her and she froze for a moment not knowing what to do. The smile reappeared and she laid her left hand in his and he couldn't resist the temptation to bring it to his lips. He bowed slightly to brush his lips over her knuckles but didn't refrain from looking at her from under his lashes and noticed a slight rosy hue color her cheeks. He knew what kind of thoughts he would have liked to inspire her but he had decided to be patient about it, to go wherever she decided and at her own pace. He then straightened his back and entwined her left arm around his right one, not letting go of her gaze for even a second.

"Where to, Princess?" he asked softly.

"Where were you going?" she asked in the same intimate tone, still smiling.

"I don't seem to remember," he answered, returning the smile.

"The Godswood then?" she offered.

"With you, anywhere!" he replied, starting in the suggested direction, enjoying the feeling of her warm body close to his right side.

When they reached the weirwood he set a blanket on the ground and two pillows against the tree and they sat next to each other in comfortable silence. After a while she leaned down letting her head rest on the thigh of his stretched right leg. He lazily played with her silver curls falling free all around her head.

"Would you?" she asked hesitantly after long moments. Her eyes fixated on his and they told him the question was important to her as she searched his gaze for some hidden truths.

"Would I what?" he asked, unsure of her meaning.

"On the way here, you said 'anywhere'. Would you?" she asked again in a controlled tone but her eyes betrayed an insecurity she was trying to hide. "Leave all behind?"

"With you, yes," he said with conviction, never breaking eye contact.

"Forever in exile? No matter what would happen here after father's passing?" she insisted and he understood exactly what she meant.

"For my mother, I would have to..." he started but noticed her eyes suddenly diverted to another direction and remain there so he followed her gaze. Just a few feet away stood a young page of maybe 11 staring at his elder half-sister. She stood and signaled the boy to approach which he shyly did.

"Excuse me, M'Lady," he said and extended his hand to her.

She took the parchment he gave her and nodded smiling to the boy. "Thank you, Rob," she said softly. The boy gave a small smile and left hurried. She read the note and straightened her back, then turned to him sideways as if remembering he was there. He saw only decisiveness in her gaze. The intimate moment had passed and he felt its loss already, as if he lost her partially in the last couple of moments. What could have been in that message?

"I need to go," she said and stood to leave and he followed.

"Where?" he asked, following in her hurried steps.

"I... It's not a place for men," she said hesitantly.

"I'll come with you anyway," he said decisively.

"I'm going into the city and...you're not invited, Aemond!" she said hurrying away.

"You're not going in the city alone!" he said in a stern voice that felt more like him than all the conversations he had had with Alaera since her return.

They reached her rooms and she opened the door, stepped inside and tried to close it in his face. He pushed against it and kept it open. "The city is not safe for you alone, Alaera," he said, softening his voice as much as he could. He didn't want to attack her well-known independence that had gained her the moniker "wild dragon", they would only fight to no end.

"And the rest of the world was, little brother?" she said, laughing and turned her back going farther into her room. He followed her and closed the door behind him, then leaned on it and watched her move around the room wondering how he could convince her to let him accompany her.

"I'll simply follow you and there won't be anything that you can do to stop me," he said, crossing his hand in front of him and trying to look as relaxed and sure of himself as possible. She humpfed in a loud laugh as she grabbed some clothes out of the wardrobe and then walked to the bathing room, with a short smirk in his direction. "Don't you believe me?" he asked, noticing she left the door between rooms ajar.

"I believe you'll follow...." she said and he heard fabrics being pulled and moved against her body. He had to actively stop his legs from taking him toward her. "I also know you won't like where I go and what I'll do there!" she added and exited dressed in a simple dark brown dress, with probably the oldest boots she owned on her feet. She tied all her hair in a braid which she then twisted on top of her head, grabbed another piece of dark shawl and tied it around her head so that all of her silver locks were covered by it.

"More reason to come with you," he said simply as she went to the wardrobe again and retrieved an even darker overcoat of very coarse material. Were it not for her fine features, one could confuse her with a simple woman from the city. She removed her earrings, then pulled two knives, one short, the other one longer from beneath her bed and hid one in the folds of her overcoat and the other in a sling around her waist, but to her left side so as to not be visible.

"You should change, you are way too finely dressed for Flea Bottom, my Prince," she said ironically. He looked from her to his apparel and nodded. "I'll wait for you here," she said in an even, disinterested tone.

"No, you won't!" he said and grabbed her hand. "I'm not letting you out of my sight," he added and saw her roll her eyes.

"Good thing you didn't have this attitude 10 years ago or I would have never seen the world!" she exclaimed and pulled an old-looking bag he hadn't noticed on her shoulder.

"I grew into it," he said and smiled slyly, grabbing her hand again and pulling her out the door. He only let go when they entered his rooms at the other end of the corridor. She leaned on the door watching him as he did her just a few moments ago.

"Don't you dare!" he warned menacingly, his face just in front of her, less than a hand between them. She made the most innocent looking shrug, rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms in front of her chest feigning boredom.

He changed quickly, looking her way every once in a while, hoping to catch her spy on him, but he didn't get the satisfaction. She spent most of that time looking through her bag, probably checking that nothing important to their unknown mission was missing. He came out of his bathing room and couldn't find her so he frantically looked around. "Where the fuck..." he started under his breath.

"Language, little brother," she said from behind a tapestry that moved slightly with a light breeze, her voice almost admonishing but with a hint of humor in it.

"How do you know about this passage?" he asked, passing in the darkness beyond his room where she waited, leaning on the wall. Until his eye would adjust he couldn't even see her, but somehow knew exactly where she was, as if he could perceive her no matter the conditions. Or maybe he was simply imagining it, wanting to see a connection where there maybe was none.

"I have explored all the nooks and found most passages before you even started to crawl, little brother," she said in a breathy voice that held some regret in it. "No one bothered with where I was until they started to find me sleeping in the dragon pens..." she added and started on their way out of the belly of the Red Keep. None said a word, but each kept shortly looking at the other when they thought the other wasn't paying attention. When she noticed him slowing in front of Balerion's immense skull still surrounded by lighted candles, she came closer to him.

"Still impressed by him, even when you've been riding Vhagar for ten years?" she asked.

"Always," he answered. "Some things never change," he added and reached for her hand and held it in his, now looking at her with the same sense of wonder as Balerion inspired him, admiration and respect, but also something more, a warmth that softened something deep inside him.

"Not necessarily a good thing," she said softly, looking away from him, and he thought there was a tinge of regret in her voice. She walked away on the path leading to the city and he followed, wondering about the meaning of her words.

When they reached the exit, she paused, tuned to him and laid a hand on his chest with enough force to stop him too.

"Whatever you see or hear where we're going, remember you insisted on coming in spite of my refusal. If you ever feel like leaving, no one will fault you for doing so. If, on the other hand, you stay and show any disapproval, anger or disgust, I will not tolerate it," she said in the most serious tone she had ever used in his presence. He felt chastised in advance for something he had not done yet and maybe wouldn't even do. But it intrigued it all the more to know what preoccupied Alaera, what mattered as much to her as to warn him against such reactions. He nodded in approval. "It will be hard enough to explain your presence as it is...." she mumbled, shaking her head and then exited into the city.

He followed her through the streets and it became more than clear to him that she knew exactly how to get to where she was going. How many times had she walked these streets? Had she been alone or had there been a companion to guard her? Not that she needed it, but the city was not exactly safe, especially to a woman, not even to a man, for that matter. At some point, she stopped and pulled the hood of her coat to better hide her face. He looked around and saw some gold cloaks patrolling the streets and followed her example. Most of the men of the City Watch would probably recognise members of the royal family and attract unwanted attention to them. When the men left their sight, he took her hand without thinking and realized the gesture only by her short surprised reaction. She then started back on her way and did nothing to pull her hand out of his until they reached a well-cared for house with two stories in a less impoverished neighborhood, somewhere between Flea Bottom and the merchant quarter. She knocked on the door and a middle-aged man with much salt already in his hair opened it from inside and at once bowed his head.

"M'Lady, how good to see you again," he said with gratitude and respect in his voice, then looked in Aemond's direction and the younger man saw a glimmer of recognition there. "M'Lord," the older man acknowledged him with a slight bow.

"My brother insisted on guarding me on the way here," she said and stepped through the door kept open by the man inside. "This is Oren," she added to Aemond, "his wife is one of the kind women who take care of this place", she added.

"So good of you to come so hastily, M'Lady," Oren told her as she stopped right after the door to leave her coat on a hanger. "The girl is on the first floor, second door to the right. Sorelle says something is very wrong, that is why we dared to bother you," he added with some worry in his voice. "If you need anything, just say the word, M'Lady, and it will be done," he said and left them with another bow.

"Thank you, Oren, I will be fine," she said with kindness and turned to Aemond as the man left them. "Better stay here," she said.

"No," he said and saw her roll her eyes.

"Good," she said, almost satisfied by his refusal, but her sly smile told him he really might not like what he was about to see. "More men should see this, anyway," she added, staring toward the stairs. Following her, he noticed to the right a sitting room where there were several women, young and mature, all heavy with child, mending clothes and talking between themselves in pleasant tones, some giggling or even laughing.

"What is this place, Alaera?" he asked, grabbing his elder sister's hand and stopping her on the stairs.

"Well, it's a birthing house, of course. What did you think, silly?" she said and laughed at his awestruck expression, then pulled her hand free and continued up the steps. He followed without much conviction. She obviously knew the place and even nodded to another elder woman they met on the upper floor corridor. The gray haired woman bowed deeply but also smiled to his sister, whispering "M'Lady, welcome!" before going on her way.

"Lorena, please," Alaera said to the old woman who turned back at her words.

"Yes, M'Lady?"

His sister opened her bag and took out a bag and put it in the hands of the old woman. "For the needs of the house," she said kindly.

"Thank you, M'Lady! Only by your kindness can we keep this place open for the girls," the old woman said bowing again.

"It's the least I can do," she replied modestly.

"Since the Good Queen Alysanne, no one has bothered with the city or with its poor, M'Lady," the old woman said with tears in her eyes.

"Your words deeply honor me, Lorena," Alaera said softly, touching the woman's hand.

"It's good that you brought a guard with you, it's not safe out here anymore..." the aging woman added shortly looking at him but he saw no recognition in her eyes. She left without another word and his sister went to the door through which he could already hear some grunting sounds.

She knocked shortly and entered what was actually a small antechamber and then passed to the bedroom beyond it, dropped her bag on the floor and went to a basin with water set on a table by the window. He followed but stopped by the door in the first room, almost looking for some shadows to hide in. He admitted to himself to be out of his depth and wondered if, in the future, he shouldn't believe Alaera when she warned him.

He looked through the opened door in the bedchamber where a young woman of maybe 18 was lying in the bed, obviously in pain, holding for dear life the hand of another woman, somewhat older, who whispered encouragements to the younger one. Other two women, these ones more mature, around 40 years of age, had busied themselves around the bed and now, approached his sister, throwing short but curious looks in his direction.

"M'Lady, welcome," said one, the other thanking Alaera for her speedy arrival.

"Cora, Sorelle, good to see you again," Alaera said while she rolled up her sleeves and then started washing her hand in the basin.

"M'Lady, the pains started in the night. The baby is early and, I think, not fully turned," one of them said but looked his way again which Alaera noticed.

She threw him a short look and a small smile. "My...good friend would not let me come to the city unaccompanied. He will stay outside this room but, should his presence bother, tell me and he will leave," she said firmly, more for him than for the women, he sensed. He retired even more to the shadows where he found a couple of chairs and sat himself in one of them. "I firmly believe men should know more of these things as they are equally involved in what brings about days like this one," she continued loudly, making sure he heard her. As no one objected to his presence, she then went to the young woman who was now writhing in obvious pain and breathed deeply.

"Hello. What should I call you, my dear?" she said warmly sitting on the side of the bed next to the pregnant young woman.

"Rose, M'Lady," the young woman said between deep beats.

"What a beautiful name, Rose," she said kindly. "I will have to inspect you to see where the problem lies," she continued. "It might get quite uncomfortable, my dear," she warned. With her back turned to him he mostly guessed that his sister touched the young woman's distended belly, then softly whispered something and continued her inspection between the young woman's already spread legs. A small yelp came from Rose, but she then relaxed.

"My hands are always cold, I'm sorry," Alaera said apologetically when she stood.

"You were right," she said to the two midwives and quickly washed her hands again. "The baby lies sideways, but there is also good news," she added in an encouraging voice, turning to Rose and her companion, still holding the future mother's hand. "The baby comes a bit early and is not very big, so that only the turning will be painful. The birthing canal is already wide enough and the birth will not be hard, dear Rose," she said, taking the young mother's other hand and stroking it. "Are you in pain now?" she asked and the young woman denied it. "Good. I will first try from the outside, hopefully it will be enough," she said and he could see her working her hands on the girl's belly which caused her grunts of pain.

After long moments, Alaera turned from the girl and shook her head to the midwives. "Don't push, Rose. The babe lies with its back over the birthing canal," she said. "Just tell me when the pain decreases," she instructed the girl. "I'll have to try again," she added. "Rose, look at me," she said in a soft but decided tone. "Your baby's head is this big," she said, covering her fist with her other hand, "but my hand is so much leaner than that," she continued stretching her hand. "I will have to reach inside to turn the baby so it can pass through. There is no easy way to do it, but it is the only way to save both your lives. Do you understand?" she asked with compassion but also full of confidence in her voice. The girl nodded, sweaty from the effort she had probably already made to bring the child forth.

"There is a chance, M'Lady, that the babe will live?" the girl asked, still scared.

"More than a chance, sweet one," Alaera said, caressing the woman's hand. "I have done this several times and it has worked, both mother and babe lived each time," she said assuredly. The girl nodded, breathing deeply, trusting his sister's words. Did she truly have so much experience? Could she save them both?

She waited for the wave of pain to pass then positioned herself on her knees between the girl's legs once again. "Relax, relax, Rose," she said soothingly, all the while working with her right hand between the girl's legs and her left one on the outside of her belly. Rose whined and then screamed in obvious pain but, after long moments, quieted and started to breathe deeply. Alaera stood and went to the basin to wash her hands again, an expression of calm on her features.

"It hurts again!" the girls said, grunting again.

"Then push," Alaera said, smiling at the girl. "A few strong pushes and you'll have a baby," she added nodding to the other two midwives and to the girl's friend. One of the midwives sat between the girl's legs, her friend held her up in an almost sitting position and the other woman prepared some linens to swaddle the babe when it came. Alaera leaned against the wall next to the door separating the bedroom from the small antechamber where Aemond watched it all in silence. He could see her profile lightened by the last rays of the setting sun, her light eyes almost sparkling, maybe slightly wet with unshed tears, he thought. He couldn't stop watching her in spite of the grunts and screams coming from the room beyond. He only woke from his reverie when he saw her move suddenly. One of the midwives came with a bundle in her arms and said softly, "He's not moving, M'Lady."

"Lay him down," said Alaera indicating the table that also held the basin. Aemond sprung to his feet without even thinking and came closer to the door as to see the babe the woman laid on the table. Once set down, his sister turned the babe on the side, started rubbing his back and feet, but still no movement came from his small still form, no sound either. She turned the little one on his back, put her mouth to his and breathed in his mouth, removed herself just to take a deep breath and blew it then inside him again, then again several times. Only then did the baby start to cry with little coughs in between. The women started clapping and happily talking to each other.

"You're going to be alright, little one!" Alaera said to the babe cleaning him with the linen, then tying and cutting his cord into a shorter stump. She removed all the dirty linens and swaddled him in fresh ones, then held him again all the while talking softly to him and went to his mother.

"Congratulations, Rose! You did great!" she told the young woman.

"Thank you, M'Lady," the girl said with tears in her eyes. "If it weren't for you..." she said and started to cry.

Alaera bent to lay the baby in her arms, but the woman turned to her other side.

"What's wrong, sweet girl?" his sister asked, still holding the baby. Aemond could hear the girl cry softly, even from the other room. The other women had left the room, only one of them was still there gathering the dirty linen in a basket.

"I can't..." she started. Alaera sat on the bed next to her, baby asleep on her left arm, with her right caressing the young woman.

"It's ok, let it all out, Rose. You've been through something very hard today, my dear, but you are strong, you were strong for your baby," she said.

"I have nothing to offer him, M'Lady," the girl said between sobs.

"Your family?" Alaera asked.

"They are poor. They relied on the money I got from the Keep. Their house burned down 5 moons ago so I gave them all I had for the repairs. They don't have much, I'd be a burden..."

"What about the baby's father?" Alaera asked.

"He forced me...." the girl started but stopped at once, looking all of a sudden frightened. Her eyes slipped between Alaera and him, still standing in the door.

Alaera looked at him over her shoulder shortly, eyes full of anger, then back toward the girl in the bed. "Do you want him to go?" she asked.

"Not him..." she mumbled.

He knew the girl had recognized him and he was sure he also knew her from somewhere.

"Go, brother," Alaera said but he advanced closer to the bed.

"I know you...." he said, searching his mind for her face. The girl looked positively terrified, he noticed, and suspected it wasn't because of him, but because of someone else who resembled him. Rose turned her face to the other side and deep sobs made her body tremble. "You used to work at the Keep..." he said remembering her face less puffy, lean, smiling softly when she had curtsied. She had been a serving girl, he was certain. But he hadn't seen her in some time, he knew for sure.

Alaera looked at him then drew his attention to the baby she still cradled in her arms. She removed the linens from his head and Aemond saw the puff of silver-blond hair on the little one's head. At that moment the baby opened his eyes and they were unmistakable lilac, like his, like Alaera's. She most probably held a Targaryen bastard in her arms. Aemond stumbled back a step, his gaze stuck to his sister's who smiled softly, sadly, caressing the small baby in her arms.

"My dear," Alaera said, turning to the young mother. "I can help you. There is a place I know where your baby can grow without lacking anything. He can learn letters and numbers there, later a trade. Friends of mine run that place, good people just like the ones here."

"Here, in King's Landing?" the girl asked hopeful.

"No. The city is not safe for.... good people," she said, her voice full of disdain mixed with regret.

"Could I visit him?" the girl asked, her sobs fewer now.

"It is an island, so it would not be easy to organize. But I can find you a position at the castle there, if you are willing, and you would be close by, able to visit most everyday," she said assuringly and the girl nodded fast.

"Yes, Princess, I will do anything," she said, standing up a bit. "Anything to be close to him!" she said and reached smiling for her baby. Alaera passed him after laying a soft kiss on the baby's head.

"Good," she approved and watched mother and baby for a few moments. "Does he have a name? I have to send news of both of your coming to my friends, after all!" she said smiling.

"Laeron, if it pleases you, M'Lady," the young woman said blushing.

"Unusual name, but... very much appreciated!" Alaera said, her voice full of warmth.

"Thank you, M'Lady, from all my heart. You saved us both today. Thousand times, thank you," the girl said, grabbing Alaera's left hand and bringing it to her lips.

"I'm so sorry for all you have been through....not only today," Alaera said, head bowed in shame.

"It was all worth it, M'Lady, to have him in my arms now!" the young woman said, still holding Alaera's hand. "Thank you!" she said again, her eyes going between her small son and his beloved sister.

Alaera stayed a bit more to give some advice to the young mother and to exchange some hushed words with the midwives. The streets were already covered in darkness when they started back on their way to the Keep. They walked in quiet companionship for a while, somehow once again side by side, her left arm entwined and resting on his right one.

It took him quite some time to ask his questions. "How did you know about her?"

"I have friends in many places around the city, people who know I can help with....delicate situations," she said simply, not at all proud or boasting, either her skills or her connections.

"Did you know....about the baby?" he asked hesitantly.

"Know what, brother?" she replied inquisitive with a smile on her lips, stopping in her tracks and turning to him without letting go of his arm.

He huffed slightly frustrated and looked shortly somewhere above her head before turning his eye on hers. He should have expected her to put him on the spot, to tax his hesitancy to speak plainly and openly.

"Did you know that her baby was a...Targaryen bastard?" he whispered that last part.

"I suspected it. They told me she had served at the Keep for years but was let go some moons ago, so I deduced," she said smiling bitterly and he couldn't hold her gaze and once again looked to the side, ashamed of what he knew to be true, even when he couldn't put it in words. And here she was, the so-called "wild dragon" always accused of rejecting her responsabilities, the forever runaway princess, helping clean up their family's dirty secrets. He turned to start again on their way but she held him back, compelling him to look at her. "She's not the first he's forced into this, nor will she be the last, Aemond," she said with sad certainty in her voice. "And the tea your mother is giving them before sending them on their way doesn't work in many cases," she said and he was stunned by her knowledge of it. He shouldn't be, it seems. Even after so many years away, she apparently knew all the goings of their home. She was the one who started walking again and he followed.

"Where are you sending them?" he asked, breaking their intimate silence once they reached the belly of the Keep.

"Where our blood runs deep. Where our forebearers spilled their seed repeatedly for several generations so that silver-blond hair and purple eyes are nothing out of the ordinary," she said smiling.

He groaned in response, understanding exactly the place she meant. Silence fell between them again until they reached their rooms.

"Would they have survived?" he asked, "had you not been there today?"

"Probably not," he said simply. "I believe that is why Laena died," she mentioned their cousin who had been Vhagar's rider before Aemond and their uncle Daemon's second wife before Rhaenyra.

"Aemond!" they suddenly heard the Queen's voice as she approached, "and Princess Alaera, what a surprise!" she added stopping next to them. "We have missed you at dinner, " she said to her son. "I'll have something sent to your room, son! And to the Princess, of course," she quickly addded.

"No need, Your Grace. You son was most gracious and accompanied me on an errand to the city," Alaera said knowing questions would certainly follow.

"Yes, Aemond can be very...protective," the Queen said gazing between the two of them.

"If you'll excuse me, I must bathe the dust of the city away," she said bowing slightly to the Queen. "Your Grace," then turned to him, "thank you, brother, and good night to you both!" she said and entered her room closing the door behind her.

He watched her disappear in her room and only then faced his mother.

"Aemond..." she started.

"Yes, mother?" he asked expectantly. He knew what would probably follow and it made no difference to him. He knew his mind well enough and his mother's will would not bend it, not in this particular matter.

"She is lovely, to be sure..." she started, walking away from Alaera's room.

"She is intelligent, kind, brave, learned, loving, fair, powerful, beloved by the people, level headed, if we should really describe all my sister's qualities," he intervened.

"I know your preference for her, but, Aemond..."

"Let's not forget she is "the Dragon of Dorne", mother! The only Targaryen welcomed in Dorne since before the Conquest! The Prince of Dorne actually owes her his life and that of his heir!" he continued and his mother looked away from him, first at a distant wall, then at her clasped hands.

"Even if it makes sense from a political standpoint...." she had to admit but still avoided his stare. "She is 10 years older than you," she added, grabbing his hand in hers to better assert her opinion.

"Why should that matter, mother, when everything else makes sense?"

"Don't you want children, Aemond?" she asked.

"I think my brother has enough for the both of us!" he said in an angry tone, walking away from her. He had known for some time that his mother did her best to cover all of Aegon's blunders.

"Aemond! What do you mean by that?" she asked, grabbing his hand again to stop him from entering his room and closing the door behind him.

He took a deep calming breath and turned to his mother, made a few steps toward her and took her hands in his. “The Good Queen had children until late into her forties, dear mother. My brother's succession is already ensured so what would it matter if I had two or six children, as long as I'd make the family stronger?” he asked and saw her searching for a reply without finding one. “But don't worry, dear mother, Alaera has no interest in marrying me,” he said bitterly and noticed her exhale relieved as though she had just held her breath. He bid her good night and retired to his room to rethink the day and all its implications.

Chapter Text

Princess Alaera Targaryen didn't usually enjoy long baths. Sure, they were welcomed and she liked cleaning after hours of training or of walking around, but soaking for long was simply a waste of time. That evening though, she forgot herself there and only the repeated soft knocking on the door got her to rise from the already tepid water. Hair still soaking wet, a robe tightly wound around her, she opened the door to find her companion of the day standing with a tray full of food, face serious, maybe even troubled. She had expected him to want to talk after the events of the day behind them. His silence on the way back to the Keep only told her how shocked he had been, how out of place he must have felt the whole long afternoon they had spent in the birthing house.

Their eyes locked together, she expected him to say something, but he seemed wordless so, after some long moments, she moved aside to allow him to enter her rooms. He had obviously also bathed, for he was dressed much less formally than she had seen him in... years, probably. His hair was still wet and unbound, falling in a curtain around his shoulders. She sensed a heaviness between them and couldn't say exactly where it originated, if in the events of the afternoon or in the night they had slept in each other's arms in a quiet acceptance of their fast changing relationship.

He laid the tray on the table by the window and looked somewhat uncomfortable around the room, as if unsure what to say or do. Not exactly an attitude she was used to seeing in Aemond, not since he had gained a dragon and, through it, overcame his perceived failings as a dragonless Targaryen prince.

"I thought you might enjoy a late dinner," he said indicating the tray but he held his gaze stuck to hers.

"Thank you," she smiled softly and had to stop herself from jumping in his arms. Why did she feel this for a man so much younger than her, a man she had seen growing since the cradle? She had avoided men like a plague her whole life. Sure, most held no interest in her eyes, but there had been curiosity in her to explore that part of herself. But none of those she met either in Westeros or during her travels came even close to what this young man effortlessly made her feel.

She became conscious of her nakedness under the robe that now clung partially soaked to her body and felt her cheeks heat up. She was not a shy maiden, she had never been even back when her marital status was the constant talk of the Keep and of her father's small Council. She had not cared then of men and courtship and had overtly rejected every approach, only finding comfortable companionship inside her family. But now her half-brother sat in front of her making her self-conscious and almost afraid of her own body's unwanted reactions to him. "Sit, eat, please. I'll be right back," she said and retired to her bathing room. She closed the door behind her and leaned on it, noticing the heat starting to pool between her legs. She was tempted to jump back in the water and punish her treasonous body with a cool bath. Alas, the water was not yet cold enough for that. Anger rose inside her and the opened window tempted her more than returning to the room where a straight backed Aemond sat way too close to her bed. If only she could fly....

She tried to dry the water still dripping from her hair and when she was satisfied with that, turned to look for an alternative to the wet gown that clearly showed the reaction even the thought of him produced to her breasts. She only found the red dress she had worn that morning and nothing else. It would have to do, she thought, and changed into it.

After a few deep and hopefully calming breaths, she exited the bathing room to find him sitting without eating, his eye on the door she just came through. He rose at once and, ever the gentleman, pulled the other chair by the table for her to sit in. She shortly felt his warm breath on her neck and cursed her body for being so easily aroused.

"You didn't eat," she noticed the plates still untouched.

"I didn't come to eat, Alaera. I came so we could eat together," he said and his voice seemed to her deeper than usual. The roll of her name on his tongue sounded different tonight. His dark amethyst gaze never left her, so she admitted defeat and broke it first, assessing the plates and choosing something from them, although no hunger plagued her, but a rising tension that knotted in her belly.

"Then let's eat," she said, smiling somewhat forcefully. He followed her example and picked some food though it didn't seem to interest him anymore than it did her. She caught him looking at her several times and he didn't avert his stare so she held it everytime, hoping to encourage him to say what was clearly troubling him. Yes, he seemed quite controlled as he usually did, but she could perceive a tension in his posture that told her there was still much unsaid between them. She wanted to know all that was going through his mind but, at the same time, also feared what getting there would do to them. She knew that a darkness had grown inside him, she had noticed it over the years, from the disappointment of not having a dragon for his first 10 years and being the constant target of his brother's and nephew's pranks, to then being made inferior by the injury that had left him without an eye. The king's declining health and constant bickering inside the family had robbed him of a deeper relationship with their father and that had only added to his insecurities as second son and constant decline on the succession line. She did her best to understand him for she had deeply loved the boy he had been. She could not forget the constant affection between them throughout the years, even despite the growing distance between his mother and her older sister.

"Are there others?" he asked long after they had both given up on eating. None had had much of an appetite, she noticed. Or anyway, not an appetite for food. Damn her body, she chastised herself.

"Others?" she asked, making him huff in slight annoyance. She smiled wetting her lips with her tongue, which she only noticed she was doing when his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips and stayed there for long moments.

"Other..... Targaryen bastards," he said as if the acknowledgement debased him to some degree, after moving his gaze once again to her eyes.

"Yes, quite a few," she admitted, holding his gaze and feeling a strange pride in pushing his limits. She thought him capable of so much more, even of becoming her ally in the plans that were slowly developing in her restless mind. "Why, are you wondering if some are yours?" she asked with a sly smile on her lips.

"No. That is highly improbable," he said simply, but she noted a slight insecurity.

"Those teas the Maester prepares are nowhere near an insurance, little brother," she continued to taunt him. "And I used to see you leave the Keep with Aegon, years ago," she went on enjoying seeing him flustered.

"That was a long time ago. And the women on the Street of Silk most probably know how to take care of...such things," he said, holding her gaze, though with some difficulty.

"You'd think so," she said smiling. "You do not want to know how many women of the profession I've assisted over the years!" she said and enjoyed his overt discomfort.

"There is one sure method and, save for those first couple of times, it has worked perfectly for me," he replied, never letting go of her gaze, his elbows on the small table, posture more intimate than before.

"Really? You should impart those techniques on our brother, then!" she said mocking.

"Aegon is not one to restrain himself. And unlike his, my tastes are singular," he said and shortly dropped his gaze to her mouth again and she realized she was biting her lower lip. "But if you know of another method of certainly avoiding such complications, do tell me! I find myself quite interested in the subject," he said and his smile made it perfectly clear with whom he would use that method.

Though the heat coursing through her told her to take him up on the offer and merge their bodies together in every possible way no matter the consequences, their earlier conversation thread was still on her mind. She smiled sadly and put her own arms on the table, coming as close as possible with the table still between them.

"I've been doing this every time I come home," she said and watched his every reaction. No disappointment to her change of direction showed on his face. "I sometimes looked for your features in their small faces," she continued and saw a flicker of surprise mixed with shame, his eyes shortly dropping to the floor. "In the end, it doesn't matter, they're all my blood, innocent children in need of protection," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Have you already sent them all to....safety?" he asked.

"Some," she nodded. "Others are owned by people who are very much aware of their value, so much so that long and difficult negotiations are needed to achieve their freedom," she said, watching his face change to the cruel reality of those children, his eye widen in an awe-stricken reaction.

"These people...mean to use these children...." he started but couldn't seem to find the words.

"....in ways I would hate to think even of grown people being used in, let alone children," she said and finally reached for the wine he had poured them but that had remained untouched until now. She took a gulp even if nothing could cover the nausea she felt. "The girls are especially difficult to extract," she added, staring him down again. She saw his mouth open then close, his gaze falling to the table. He then reached for his also untouched goblet. She couldn't remember him drinking wine, maybe once trying it and not truly appreciating it when he was maybe twelve or thirteen. She had sensed a kinship to him in that also, for she had failed to develop a taste for the drink. "There are many people out there who see all of us as the unwanted ruler the Conqueror was. As invaders and killers, as violent and craven hiding behind the power of our dragons. We are more feared than respected, more reviled than loved, Aemond, and there is a wide market for ways in which to humble or defile us," she said, regretting the innocence of times when all that mattered was the smile of her parents and elder sibling and the hope of someday flying.

"Why do you do it?" he asked sometime later, after a couple deep gulps of wine. "There must be other children in similar situations..." he added.

"Because they are my brother's children," she said simply. "As despicable as that brother proved himself to be," she added in a disappointed tone. "They are Targaryens," she continued.

"They are just bastards," he replied, trying to appear nonchalant, to reduce the heaviness of the topic, and something inside her exploded destroying all the warmth of their companionship in an instant.

She stood up and slapped her hands on the table making all the cutlery move. "They are innocent children who did not chose to be born of a fucking degenerate Targaryen prince who thinks he can do whatever he wants without impunity," she said and saw utter shock reflected in his stare. "A man who defiles young girls against their will and goes on without giving a second thought to the damage he does in other people's lives!" she continued leaning on the table and almost towering above him. Maybe they were right to call her "the wild dragon", she thought, seeing herself reflected in Aemond astonishment. She had a temper but she mostly managed to keep it leashed. But not today. Not with him. He seemed to want to be around her, so he should first know all her faults before he succumbed to her charms, whatever they may be.

She took deep breaths to quiet the anger that boiled to the surface and threatened to spill out of her. She closed her eyes and somewhere deep inside her she felt another being, covered in a heavy blanket of darkness, now rousing from a deep sleep closer to death than to life and becoming enraged in mirror to her fury, a presence she had not felt in weeks. An overflowing joy seeped in through the rage that had filled her just a few moments ago and a stray tear fell on her face without her even noticing. He was alive. She straightened, left the table and stopped in front of the open window, pulling deep breaths of cold air inside her chest. Her closest friend and ally was alive and she knew at once they would be reunited. She closed her eyes again and reached for him again, extending her whole being toward him, hoping to give as much of her strength as possible to him. She noticed a growing heat inside her that rose and rose until she felt it explode in a breath of fire. She looked at her hands and they were at once heavy, as if burdened by shackles. She sensed the iron become warm, then hot, then disappear. He was freeing himself, she knew for sure. But she also knew he was deeply hurt, could feel pain all over her body, but she trusted their shared power and resilience. They were wild creatures who had carved their way to each other and had survived so many trials together. This time she hadn't been there for him but somehow her fury had infused him to rise again and fight his way out of the darkness of near death. They would be together again, she rejoiced in the certainty of that thought.

With tears falling free on her cheeks she turned to the man who had stood up from the table and was unsure of what to do. She cleared her mind having already lost the connection of a few moments ago.

"They are family," she concluded in a serious tone, "and they deserve better! The others will follow as soon as I get some real backing from the Small Council," she said matter of fact, careful to omit the expression "a NEW Small Council" that she was hoping for after the unavoidable demise of their father.

"You want to clean King's Landing?" he asked, eye wide with surprise.

"Why are we here, Aemond? To sit around the Iron Throne and go through the city leaving our seed on every street corner? We forced ourselves here, but ruling comes with obligations, not just benefits!" she said, making a few steps in his direction but stopping an arm length away. "Though crude in his methods, even uncle Daemon tried to bring some order to the city. That is long gone, my sweet little brother," she added and regretted her condescendence right away. But he had to be aware of the fact that the world was much bigger than the Red Keep and flying on dragonback here and there. "With power comes responsibility," she said simply.

"You'd make a fine queen," he said matter of fact, head tilted slightly to look at her towering him, a smile of quiet approval on his thin lips.

"I don't want to be queen!" she said with a sudden laugh. "Never did, actually. It used to bother me when I was young, what if I would have been a man, what kind of king would I have been? Would my marriage to Rhaenyra have been a happy one? But to me, the Iron Throne is made of chains. The chains that forced my father to demand the ultimate sacrifice of my dear mother," she said, full of conviction, making a few steps away. "All I want is the power to make our kingdom safer for those who cannot defend themselves. For no child is ever responsible for the circumstances of his or her birth, don't you think, brother?" she said and looked at him questioningly. She still hoped to influence his rigid thinking into her more liberal way of seeing the world around them.

But no answer came from him so she turned away. "It took me years to accept I was not at fault for being born a daughter instead of a son, that my mother would have died in childbirth even if I would have been a male. They would have pushed for more heirs to strengthen the fucking line just like they forced father to remarry so shortly after...." she said, choking on the words. He grabbed her hand and gently pulled her closer to him, turning her again to face him. He uncrossed his legs and she allowed him to pull her between them, towering him. He reverently kissed the hand he held and laid his left one on her waist.

"How do you not hate us, Alaera?" he asked, gaze glued to her eyes, searching to see deeper, to find where her reasons hid. Her left hand still clasped in his, she gently caressed his face with her other one and he closed his eye under her touch, exhaling deeply.

"None of you asked for this, to be born in this family, to be burdened with all the expectations that are placed on all of us," she said simply and he opened his eye. "I dare say your older siblings would be happier in another family altogether," she added with some sadness in her words and saw surprised assent in his gaze. "You did not kill my mother," she said with pain lacing her words and felt a stray tear run down her face. He laid his forehead to her abdomen for a couple of moments, then straightened his head and locked his stare to hers again. He used her hand still clasped in his to pull her down to sit on his left leg and then gently brought her face to his. He stopped for a couple of moments, their lips almost touching, and she knew he was giving her the choice. She searched his eye but found nothing to deter her there. So she stroked the nape of his neck with her left hand, her fingers losing themselves then in his long silver blond hair. She covered his lips with hers and all reasonable thought in her mind seemed to cease afterwards. She noticed his left arm caress her hip and her leg, then move to her back, his right one guide her head so that his tongue could better explore her lips and her mouth, their tongues move perfectly in sync with each other as if they had already danced together a thousand times before. His right hand then moved to stroke her left ankle up to her calf, then her right ones up to her knee. She trembled at the energy coursing from the spots he touched all the way to her core, pooling again with heat. She broke the kiss as she needed to breathe and noticed his hand also stopped wandering over her body.

"We can stop at any time, my love," he said, no other part of him moving but for his lips, his voice deep and assuring. As no answer came from her, he added, "I want to touch you, but so that you feel safe," and she understood his meaning. She nodded shortly and brushed her lips to his again and he responded to her, allowing her to set the pace and gradually deepen the kiss. She had never seen or imagined a man to be as restrained in his passion as Aemond was right now. She could feel his body strain to hold back under her touches, his manhood already hard and pushing against her right hip that was flush to his crotch. His hand slowly retook their exploration of her body, his left from her nape to her back and all the way to her backside then all the way up again, his right one steadily ascending from her knees between her thighs.

He suddenly stopped and broke their heated kiss, took deep breaths and looked her eyes for a renewed approval that came in the form of her right hand dropping from his hair between their bodies, all the way to his crotch. He inhaled deeply and moved the tips of his long finger over the seam of her sex. She knew she was already drenched there but the surprise in his gaze told her of him still being insecure of her feelings. His fingers stopped shortly reflecting his astonishment but she encouraged him with a soft stroke of her hand over his swollen manhood. He perfectly understood her and brushed her slit a few more times superficially before spreading her outer folds and meeting all the heat there with the tips of his fingers. He had no trouble finding the swollen bud at the apex of her thighs and languidly starting to circle it, every once in a while applying pressure directly on it. He watched her the entire time and she knew he enjoyed seeing her come undone under his ministrations. She repaided him in kind, continuing to stroke, sometimes gently, sometimes with a firm grip, his pulsating manhood through his breeches. She reveled in seeing the black of his eye widen with pleasure and smiled wickedly when his breaths started coming faster. His answer was in his middle finger descending to her opening and slowly entering her drenched core. She shortly held her breath as he started to move it in and out, making curling movements deep inside her, his eye never leaving hers. She whimpered when he added a second finger inside her, slightly uncomfortable at first, but exquisite when he moved his fingertips on a point of pleasure. She covered his mouth with hers and this time wasted no time to bond her tongue to his. At some point she noticed his other hand somehow further loosened the upper part of her dress, pulled it from her shoulder down and freed her right breast. He broke their kiss and fixed his gaze to hers while he took her nipple in his mouth, softly licking it at first, then suckling it. He closed his eye, lost in the act and she dropped her head back, further pushing her breast into his greedy mouth. Her body coursed with heat in his embrace, his mouth over her breast, two of his fingers inside her core, moving faster, his thumb on her pulsating nub, all taking her to the edge. She intensified the strokes over his manhood, not knowing how long she could keep doing that when her whole being threatened to dissolve in the fire growing in her, made unbearable by his touches. Their breaths came now short and fast, her moans of pleasure overlapping his groans. She moved her pelvis to better meet his fingers deep inside her, riding his hand, never letting go of his hardness in her right hand.

"Look at me, my love! I want to see you come!" he said, in an imperative tone mingled with beseech. She did and their bodies exploded at once, her core tightening around his fingers again and again, his seed released of his manhood in pulses under her continued strokes. Their eyes never left each other, basking in the other's look of sated pleasure. He took his hand from between her thighs and deliberately licked his fingers, never breaking their eye contact. "You taste so good," he whispered and she shortly held her breath. She knew right then this was only the beginning as he had just shattered all her defenses.

He slowly pulled her mouth to his but stopped short allowing her again to pull back, should she wish it. After a short moment of searching his gaze, she tasted him and herself on his lips, in his mouth. He groaned and her core clenched again at the sound he made, at the thought of her juice on his tongue. How could he have her ready again after making her explode just a few moments ago? She jumped from his lap and pulled her dress up to cover her upper body, then went to the still open window, her back turned to him. 'Now what?!?!?' her mind screamed at her. She heard him also stand and come toward her but stop a few paces away.

"Alaera..." he started but she didn't let him finish.

"I need to clean up and get some sleep," she said coldly, unable to look at him. A battle raged inside her: one half of her was elated and happy to have experienced that with him, the other one was trembling, afraid of the consequences of letting herself acknowledge her feelings for him and also acting on them.

"Alaera, don't push me away," he said calmly, pleading but also decisive.

"I've never...." she started but choked on her own words. '...slept with my brother? ...fucked a man? ....felt my heart explode in my chest at how much I love you?' What could she say to make him understand how overwhelmed she was by what had just happened between them?

"I've never felt something like that either," he said simply, coming a step closer to her. "Don't send me away," he said, standing straight in front of her. "Unless I make you uncomfortable," he added, offering her an out. But she couldn't find it in herself to lie and take it.

"You don't," she whispered honestly. 'At all! Quite the contrary!' she added to herself. 'You feel absolutely right and that scares the fuck out of me!' she continued to herself.

"Last night was the first time in forever I went to sleep happy, Alaera," he said and she detected the slight uneasiness in his voice, a sign that he was forcing himself to open to her, to give her parts of himself he had always kept hidden from all others. She knew it was hard for him and she appreciated him even more for it. "Because you were there with me," he added. "For whatever long we might have, if you'd agree, I want you to be the last thing I see before I close my eyes at night and the first when I open them in the morning. I want you in my arms for all the hours in between, forever if possible," he said, not making any move in her direction, leaving her the space to move, to reject him. But she did want him around her and inside her for the rest of her days, and that thought scared her to her core. Not even the immediate future was on their side, she knew in her reasoning mind, but that was not the part of her that craved for his touch even now, so shortly after having had him.

"Stay tonight," she said, giving into her weakness. "We'll see about...the rest," she said and turned to the bathing room. She washed herself in the tepid water, then covered herself in a clean nightshift. She was once again questioning her decision by the time he came back through the secret passage she had just opened, wearing clean breeches and a loose shirt. He dropped some day clothes on a chair and his boots next to it, then went to her door and locked it.

"I ruffled my bed. They'll think I woke up early and left," he said and came next to her noticing her eyes stuck to the bed. "Second thoughts?" he asked, seeing her uneasiness. She was tempted to send him away, but he deserved more than that for all the respect and restraint he had shown earlier. She knew for sure his male dominance screamed to be released, to take her in each and every way imaginable, but he had held himself back, out of love and consideration. Even if she had let no other man touch her before, she had had the curiosity to see most of what went on in the pleasure houses of the world. She knew what men were when unleashed and didn't lie to herself about him not having those same impulses inside. Her chest filled with warmth seeing him wait for her decision, his gaze soft and cherishing.

She took the bedcover away, climbed in bed and turned to watch him slowly follow her. He stopped in front of her, an arm length away, laying on his right side, watching her eyes. He gently caressed her face and murmured, "So beautiful," as if to himself. She moved herself closer to him and took off his eyepatch. He made a move to stop her but she pushed his hand away and held his barren face in her hands, analyzing it whole. She then placed kisses all over it, starting with the marred side, over the scar and the socket now occupied by a safire.

"So are you," she whispered and saw him at first uncertain of her words, searching her eyes for a sign of insincerity but not finding any. He then at once captured her mouth with his and drew her body flush to his. She couldn't ignore the already growing tension in his lower body and felt her own react to it. His initially passionate kiss turned soft and gentle until he ended it and placed a much chaster one to her forehead.

"Sleep well, my love," he said and settled her head beneath his chin, his arms enveloping her, their legs intertwined. Alaera Targaryen never felt more at home than that night, in Aemond Targaryen's arms, head on his chest, his heart beating strongly under her ear.

Chapter Text

Aemond Targaryen had fallen asleep feeling happy for only the second time in his entire life. Happier than he had been after his first flight on the back of Vhagar. Alaera's quiet but unflinching acceptance of his un-brotherly love had given him true hope for more, for a future together, something he had not truly allowed himself until then. He had slipped away from consciousness intoxicated by her smell, with his nose in her hair, his lips on her forehead, her relaxed body in his arms, their legs intertwined, her hand around him pulling him to her just as strongly as he was holding her to him. He would have gladly stayed awake to better enjoy the moment, but the exertions of the day and especially of the evening had taken their toll and he had slipped away into a dream of their future happiness, married, surrounded by three little dragons playing around their legs while the two of them couldn't keep their eyes from each other. Her smile was so open and true, he wondered when had he last seen her laugh so freely, unworried, unbothered by thoughts of a grim future she couldn't prevent.

He embraced her in the sunshine, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying her smell while hearing the happy sounds made by their little ones running around their legs in a game of catch. At once he was violently pulled away without warning by strong arms and then thrown to the ground away from her. He opened his eyes to complete darkness but was still able to hear her voice saying some indefinite words. Was that a foreign language? He knew she had learned quite a few in her travels, being most proud about her Roynish.

“Skoriot iksos issa zaldrīzes?” (Where is my dragon?) her voice cried out, anger like he had never before heard lacing her words that he now recognized as being High Valyrian.

He looked around as his sight got used to the darkness and perceived the tall shape of a person between himself and where he thought she was. The children, just like the light, had disappeared without a trace, the warmth of the sun gone with them.

“Alaera, where are you? Talk to me! Skoriot issi ao?” he shouted, switching to their ancestral language, trying to see beyond the shape between them. He had the distinct feeling she was farther and farther away from him and a coldness infiltrated his senses.

“Skoros emagon nyke gaomagon?” (What have I done?) he heard her ask, her voice pained, desperate even.

He started in the direction of her voice but was at once grabbed again by those same strong hands and, no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't free himself from them. It was a man, about the same height as him, covered in a dark long coat with a hood hiding his features and casting an impenetrable shadow over his face. “Who are you? Let me go at once!” he said, fighting that steely force, trying to get free. He could still hear her somewhere beyond, getting farther away, her voice now no more than a whisper. “How dare you hold me?” He heard an ironic short laugh from the man that was now so close that he thought he should feel his breath on his face. “Who are you?” he asked, stopping his thrashing, an impending sense of doom infiltrating his entire being. He was scared. He couldn't remember the last time he had been petrified with fear. Vhagar had taken that away from him, giving him the confidence to overcome whatever fears the small boy in him had had. “Show yourself!” he said and the man started to slowly raise his face to better face him and the hood slipped just enough to allow him to see the cruel smile on a sharp face. Even in the darkness he could see the sapphire glistening in the empty socket of the man's left eye. The man started laughing and he looked shocked at the familiar features. He was staring into his own face and he saw only maliciousness and cruelty there. He froze for long moments, forgetting all, lost in the features he knew were his own. He then started fighting the man again, trying to get away from him and his empty eye. That wasn't him. That could never be him. He was looking into death's eye and he felt more alone than ever before in his life.

“She can't save you, boy,” he heard his own voice telling him, cold and mocking, devoid of all feeling. “No one can save you,” he said again, this time in a serious tone, with a hint of regret mixed in. Those last words pierced him like a knife and the sudden pain in his chest jolted him awake.

It took him a few moments to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. He was sitting in Alaera's bed and he could see her in the moon's light thrashing next to him, mumbling unintelligible words. When he focused he understood some of them, as she was speaking in High Valyrian. “Skoriot iksos issa zaldrīzes?” (Where is my dragon?) “Skoros emagon nyke gaomagon?” (What have I done?) “Shijetra issa!” (Forgive me!) “īlon jāhor zālagon jeme!” (We will burn you all!)

He forced himself to leave aside his own nightmare and turned to her, laid first a hand on her shoulder, as unthreatening as possible, hoping not to scare her further. She didn't even seem to notice it, so he came closer to her and started whispering calming words. “Alaera, sweetheart, you are having a nightmare,” he said soothingly. It pained him to see her like this, trapped in a dream, voicing fears but also anger, uncertainty, even terror. He understood something about not finding her dragon, about danger probably to both of them, and he thought about how connected she was to Rexhor. He had never heard her voice a command to him but the big, dark beast was always there when she wanted him. He had never been housed with the other dragons in the Dragonpit, nor as far as he knew by the dragon keepers on Dragonstone. Ever since the male dragon had escaped the Dragonpit some forty years before, he had never again been chained. Alaera used a saddle only when she left on her travels, so that she could take some spare clothes with her, but never just between King's Landing and Dragonstone. He couldn't help but think about the fact that, ever since he had found her in the Stepstones over a month ago, she had never talked about Rexhor or his whereabouts, or about how she had gotten to be on that empty beach all alone. Maybe she was now, in a dream, reliving the times right before that. It pained him to think about her possibly losing her beloved dragon and now going through that all over again.

“Love, you need to wake up,” he said, pulling her to his body, hoping to give her some comfort. She fought him at first, but he kept her to him, caressed her, kissed her forehead and whispered words of love. She relaxed at once in his somewhat forceful embrace and started panting.

“I couldn't…. There was nothing I could do….” he heard her say and felt her tears falling on his chest. “It hurts so much…” she whimpered softly to his chest, her fist grabbing his linen shirt.

“I know, my love. It's going to be ok, Alaera,” he said, doing his best to soothe her.

“No, it's not,” she said and her tone was hopeless. It broke him in places he didn't even know he had.

“Alaera, look at me!” he said as he pushed her slightly away from him and forced her to look at him. “Whatever comes, we will face it all together, I promise, my love!” he said with so much conviction that he hoped some of it would transmit to her and give her respite. He watched her eyes and saw something there he was afraid to ask about: a clarity of thought that he had seen every once in a while in her, a certainty of purpose, a decision that no one could then shatter.

They remained still for long moments, her face in his hands, their breaths almost mingled, her blue eyes locked to his, more feeling there than he knew to voice. Her movements afterward were absolutely intentional as she sat pushing him on his back, then straddled him removing her sweat drenched shift in one swift movement. She took his face in her hands and crashed her lips to him with more passion than he had felt from her until that point. He recognised her to be completely unhinged. The strokes of her tongue on his lips and then in his mouth were not rushed, but decisive and he could do nothing but answer in kind. He instinctively pulled her naked body flush to his, regretting the shirt and pants still between them. She started slowly moving in his lap and he knew he was just a breath away from totally losing his self control. The friction between her crotch and his drove him to a precipice that he was more than happy to jump were it not for that little voice in the back of his head that told him she was not thinking clearly, that she might regret this in the morning. And that would break him in ways he would not recover from.

She quickly removed his shirt and the feeling of her breasts on his chest made him harder than he had ever been, almost ready to burst in his pants. Her lips then descended to his jaw and to his neck and he let his head fall back, knowing he had imagined this a thousand times over but, now that it happened, it felt better than his wildest dream. Her fingers worked to loosen his breeches while her lips once again descended on his, moaning when she found what she was looking for and started stroking him. His hands had slowly descended from her torso to her back and now guided her ass in her movements above him. He was intoxicated by her but he knew this was too fast. Still, he wanted it too much to actually stop. He wanted her and, finally, she seemed to desire him just as much in return. She broke their kiss and looked him in the eye and, with her right hand, guided his tip to her swollen bud, creating exquisite friction there. They both exhaled in a moan at the same time and she smiled, satisfied. She stabilized herself with her left hand on his right shoulder and continued to move his tip on her slit, between her opening and her apex. She moved slowly against his manhood, but all he could watch was her face: her eyes now dark, the black in the middle wide, engulfing the blue almost completely, her tongue wetting her lips, then her teeth grabbing her lower lip as she positioned him at her entrance. He could feel her core soaking wet with desire and he resisted the temptation to lift his hips and push himself inside her in one strong stroke. His hand held her hips and he felt the moment she started lowering herself to take him inside her. Against all his deepest hopes and dreams, he held her hips in place and stopped her movement, his tip still against her entrance, his manhood throbbing to plunge inside her core. His eye never left hers and he noticed the moment uncertainty appeared there. He knew her enough to not want her to give herself to him like that, in the heat of the moment, after a nightmare, when she instinctively needed soothing and maybe a distraction from whatever dark memories had just plagued her. Aemond wanted Alaera to give herself fully to him, to know her to be as devoted to him as he was to her. He wanted to wed her and then spend the rest of his life with her, but mostly he wanted for her to choose him above all others, in every way.

He noticed some worry, even hurt in her eyes and realized he was making her feel unwanted when, quite the contrary, he couldn't believe that he had been able to stop. He couldn't take her hurt look anymore so he pulled her lips to his and kissed them slowly, but with enough passion to feel her juice drip on him. She moaned in his mouth and he couldn't resist temptation anymore. He grabbed her body in his arms and flipped her on her back and lowered himself on top of her. He continued to kiss her lips, then dropped to her neck and then to her breasts, giving them full care, kissing each one, sucking and licking each hardened nipple while his hand caressed the other one. When he was satisfied by her moans, he dropped his mouth lower to her abdomen taking good care of her navel while his hand stroked her hip and left leg, tracing its length with his fingertips, then pulling it up and placing himself better between her legs. He felt her hips move invitingly and he looked up at her with a devious smile. Their eyes met and he enjoyed her attention, the way she followed his every move, the way her lips parted in anticipation when he licked his lips as his mouth dropped lower and lower. He continued to watch her as his tongue first met her swollen bud in one slow lick. Her moan was everything he wanted to hear from her, for the rest of his life, every night and, to be true to himself, every day too. When he started to circle it with precise movement her eyes closed and her upper body and her head dropped on the bed, but her hips moved slightly with his tempo, meeting his tongue. Her right hand was on his head, caressing it, fingers entangled in his hair. Her breath came faster and faster, shorter, and he watched her raise her head again, watching him move between her legs. She almost cried when he pushed a finger in her soaked core and started moving it against her front, searching for her most sensitive spot. His tongue never left her bud, only quickly to blow on it or to suck it between his lips. He pushed a second finger inside her and she wreathed against his hand, slapping a hand to her mouth to keep herself from truly shouting her building pleasure. Her other hand found his on the bed and they intertwined their fingers holding tightly to each other. He intensified his moves, never stopping to massage her inner soft spot when he felt her core even tighter against his fingers, and listened to her muffled moans of ecstasy. That was the most beautiful music to his ears, his Alaera panting lost in the pleasure he was giving her.

When she had stopped trembling under his ministrations, he took his mouth from her and slowly licked the fingers he had used inside her, with a moan of delight when he tasted her once again. She pulled him up to her and he once again allowed his weight to squeeze her underneath him, his manhood still stiff between her thighs. They kissed slowly, with intent, their hands once again caressing each other's body, leaving no part unexplored. She spread her legs to better accommodate him and once again moved against him, inviting him inside her, he understood. He stopped his caresses and pulled away, turning on his back next to her. He knew she must be unsure of what he was doing. How could he explain that he wanted nothing more than to sheath himself inside her, now and forever. But that he doubted it was truly what she wanted. Especially all that could result from that act. He breathed deeply and he sensed her turn on her side toward him but kept looking at the ceiling, breathing deeply, trying to quiet his roaring heart and his burning passion for her.

He felt her long fingers touch his face, then exert just enough force to turn his face slowly to her. Their eyes met and he recognised no anger there. “Tell me,” she said after long moments.

“You didn't want to risk it two days ago.” He did not take his eye from hers but, at the same time, he was anxious about what he might discern there. Was he just a phase for this most unattached Targaryen princess?

“Things change,” she said simply.

“Not you. Not this much. Not this fast. I want you more than I can put in words and I hoped you would want me just as much. But not because of a nightmare…. or a need for release,” he said calmly, glad that he could still be articulate with the throbbing in his nether region. It was hard to think straight when she lied naked next to him, naked and willing as he had only dreamed before.

“I love you,” she said just as plainly but he knew there was a “but” she had not voiced. But the words themselves elated him and Aemond struggled not to jump around in happiness, but to concentrate on what still kept her back. “Sometimes that is enough to lose my self control and to be willing to take the risk,” she added, obviously trying to explain her feelings but he had to admit to himself, he had hoped for more passion from Alaera when she, at last, professed her love for him. "I never felt this for…a man," she said quietly, as if talking more to herself than to him. But her unexpected words, the way she had said them, almost too quietly for him to hear, brought new hope and gave him the push he needed.

“Then marry me. Choose me. For I will never choose another, not for as long as my mind is my own,” he said with conviction which he hoped she truly understood to be a vow he would gladly make in front of all the gods, the Seven and those of old Valyrians.

She caressed his face with slow, delicate movements, then kissed him just as methodically, at first almost chastly, just their lips slowly brushing against each other, then advancing her tongue between them to explore his mouth and begin a languid dance with his own. He felt his wits slowly leaving him again and, in a forced effort, pulled his head slightly away from hers just as she was bringing her body to align and brush against his side. He saw the slight hurt look in her eyes but she recovered so fast he thought it might just have been in his imagination.

She took his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her again. “Aemond, you will have to marry politically, you already know that,” she said and he hated that Alaera was able to openly express things he deep down feared, things he even refused to think about. She was truly the one who could rule the Kingdoms with no trouble at all, she could manage all the intrigue and politics of a realm barely over 100 years old, a mingle of peoples who were still not all that used to be united under the rule of the dragonlords. He loved her even more for being so fucking raw and assumed, so honest and analytical. He could remember the exact moment when he realized she was the only true heir their sickly father had truly produced. Except himself, of course.

*****

Some ten years before, Aemond was still a dragonless boy bullied by his older brother and his cousins, all of them already dragonriders. Alaera had left some years before for the Citadel in Oldtown, full of hope and trust in her inquisitive mind. She had returned two or three times a year, slightly disappointed but still hopeful. After three years she had given up and decided to go to Essos in search of the knowledge she trusted was out there somewhere, waiting to be uncovered.

About half a year later he had seen a giant dark shadow quickly passing the windows of the library in Maegor's Keep where he, his siblings and his cousins had their lessons with the maesters. He recognised it to be cast by her amazing dragon, Rexhor, the wild beast his sister Alaera had claimed when she was just a girl. He jumped at once and ran out of the room to look for her. He knew there was only one outer yard where full grown dragons could land and leave their riders at the Red Keep. That was where Alaera always landed Rexhor just long enough to climb down and send him on his solo flights. She allowed him the freedom he had gained for himself when he had broken his chains in the Dragonpit some thirty years before, in a time when every young Targaryen princeling born to the Good Queen Alysanne and to King Jaehaerys would try to bond with him. But he had nested on Dragonstone for thirty years until a quiet girl of nine had searched for him and found her kindred in the blue-eyed dragon.

By the time Aemond reached the outer yard, she wasn't there anymore and the dragon was already casting his big shadow over the city beyond the Keep. “Where is my sister?” he had asked those around, servants and guards alike. “Where is princess Alaera?” he had asked again when no one had answered. “She was just taken to the Great Hall,” a guard said. ”How so?” he inquired. “She was summoned by the king, my Prince,” the guard replied. “How could my father have known she would come today?” Aemond asked, finding all of it strange. “The order was given some fortnight ago, my Prince. We were all told, should princess Alaera arrive, she should at once be brought in front of the King,” the man explained and bowed. Aemond left without a word, running in the direction of the Great Hall where today the King listened to petitions. That meant all the Court would be gathered there. What could be so important as to bring his sister in front of all the Court, he wondered.

He had taken some shortcuts and had reached a side door to the hall and entered just as his sister came in through the main entrance. He had pushed his way between the people gathered until he had reached his mother's side. “Aemond, what are you doing here? You should be having lessons with the maesters!” she had chastised. “Rexhor flew by the window and I wanted to see Alaera,” he answered, not even looking at his mother, but searching beyond her to the top of the stairs where Alaera stood waiting to be announced and allowed to descend the stairs and approach the Iron Throne.

She was standing perfectly still and Aemond had been once again awed by her: tall and lean, looking beautiful and strong at the same time, dressed all in black flying leathers, the three headed red dragon of their house on the front over her chest, silver white hair simply braided, now in a bit of disarray as she had just came from flying, hands loosely clasped behind her back, the hilt of a sword peaking above her right shoulder. Her back was straight, posture proud but not boisterous, self secure, aware of her own power and worth. She looked more grown-up since the last time he had seen her, more than half a year ago. He had always admired her but now she looked exactly the part of his favorite female member of their family, queen Visenya Targaryen, sister-wife to Aegon the Conqueror, rider of the mighty Vhagar. Looking at his elder sister then, he thought that was how Visenya might have looked after flying around and winning battles and burning strongholds all around the seven kingdoms 120 years ago.

“The princess Alaera Targaryen!” the voice of a Kingsguard announced, covering the chatter in the hall that at once died down. Alaera started down the steps and a straight path opened for her all the way to the Iron Throne. She did not rush nor did she take small, fearful steps. She looked straight ahead but, passing him, she quickly turned her face to her left towards him, winked and he waved to her happy for her to have spotted him so easily between so many people. After that she had looked to her right where their sister Rhaenyra stood with her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. He heard Alaera say, “Sister,” respectfully to her elder sister, but he then saw Rhaenyra only acknowledge Alaera with a nod, without a word, her face expressing some suspicion. Aemond knew the two had not been close, as Rhaenyra was much older so that Alaera grew up pretty much alone but at the same time very close to him and his siblings.

“The Dragon of Dorne, welcome back!” their father, the king Viserys I said out loud, his eyes analyzing the young woman in front of him. Aemond thought he could see some surprise in his eyes.

“Your Grace?” Alaera said questioningly as she bowed not very deeply in front of the king.

“I have recently received a letter from Prince Qoran Martell of Dorne in which he congratulated me for raising such a special daughter,” he said for all those present to hear. Alaera said nothing, only raised an eyebrow. “He called you 'the dragon of Dorne', 'the only Targaryen always welcomed in Dorne, your dragon the only one safe to fly over Dorne',” the king continued, growing irritation obvious in his voice. He shifted on the throne of melted swords of his ancestor, bothered by her lack of reply. “What do you have to say to that, princess?”

“I cannot guess to the reasoning behind his letter,” Alaera said, no reaction visible on her calm features.

“He said you saved his life, that of his heir and also many of his noblemen,” Viserys said without taking his eyes from his second daughter.

“To be honest, Your Grace, it was mostly Rexhor,” Alaera said matter of fact. “We were flying in the region, we saw three ships being assaulted by pirates and we intervened. It proved to be the Prince of Dorne and his retinue,” she continued impassibly.

“You do realize the Prince has allied himself with the Triarchy against us in the war for the Stepstones?” he asked, leaning forward, as if to put more pressure on Alaera. Aemond watched it all as if it was a confrontation, mesmerized by the two, the King with his absolute power against the young rising star.

“The war uncle Daemon and the Sea Snake started on our behalf, you mean?” she asked as if having forgotten and just remembering the facts, needing his reassurance. “Your Grace,” she added with a small bow when she noticed their fathers growing anger.

“The Princes of Dorne have opposed us again and again,” the king said. “Who can say that Quoran Martell was not on route to plan an attack on us together with the Triarchy, daughter?”

“So I should have simply ignored five pirate ships attacking three vessels unknown to me at that moment? So close to our shores?” she asked innocently.

“Should I remind you of their obstinate resistance to our rule for more than a century?” the king asked.

“No need, Your Grace, for I already have the utmost respect for that,” she said quite seriously. At those words the room erupted in “oohs” and “aahs” of shock, but Alaera Targaryen only smiled when hearing it.

“And where have you been since, princess?” he switched with a smile and Aemond realized his father actually liked the exchange with his second daughter.

“Prince Qoran kindly invited me to visit Dorne and, as you know me, Your Grace, I am incapable of refusing the opportunity for discovery and exploration,” she said, her voice now laced with some irony. “I thought, what better way to improve relations with our neighbors?” she continued.

“So you have given yourself the role of my envoy to Dorne now?” the king asked, smiling, obviously approving of his younger daughter but still trying to look somewhat severe. Aemond felt at once jealous of the attention Alaera was given, but not of Alaera herself. He would have given anything for his father to look at him as he was looking at Alaera now, proud not only of her deeds, but also of her standing up to his not so veiled accusations.

“Completely involuntarily,” she said.

“And what, pray tell, have you discovered in your time in Dorne?” he asked with interest.

Alaera said nothing for long moments, but a small smile flowered on her lips. “Much, father,” she said in a quieter voice, as if reminiscing on beautiful memories.

“Then you will impart that with the Small Council at the meeting tomorrow!” he said, another warm smile for his daughter on his entire face. That was what a father's love looked like, Aemond knew, and longed to feel it too.

He had always loved Alaera, her kindness, her constant approval of him, her support in his times of self doubt making her his most beloved sibling in a way none of the others had inspired in him. But starting with that day, Aemond had done his best to follow her lead, to study as hard as she had, to read anything and everything, to improve his mind and knowledge, to perfect his Valyrian that he knew she excelled at.

*****

His thoughts drifted back to the present. He knew her words were true. He knew there was a reason both his mother and his grandfather had not spoken of any marriage to him. The right one would only come later, after the death of the king, their father. Only then would become obvious whom the second son should marry. He hated the thought of any other woman next to him. Even back when Aegon had taken him to teach him the ways of men and women, he had felt a repulsion for that act. With anyone else but her. When the first woman had seen his lack of reaction, she had told him to close his eyes and think of a girl he fancied. Suddenly the image of Alaera had materialized before him. He had been thirteen so certain thoughts were already in his mind, but always about her. And every time ever since.

He turned on his side to face her and took one of her hands in his. “Lucky me, they have Daeron for that,” he said with a smirk and brought her hand to his lips. She huffed a small laugh and shook her head.

“Two are better than one,” she said.

“Hard to marry a man already bound to his love,” he said and let go of her hand, then pulled her flush to him, taking her lips between his, slow and deliberate, doing his best to keep his control. He would destroy her resistance step by step, but for that he had to keep a cool head and not give into her temptations. For they were almost too much for his long suppressed passion.

Alaera teased him with his tongue, stroking his lips but he kept his together. Barely. He even had to think about his favorite philosophical texts to quiet the tension gathering in his body, so close to taking over and doing everything he had ever imagined to her willing body. He felt her slightly tremble under his soft touches every time his hand drifted over her naked skin, be it her shoulder, his ribs, her hip or her thigh. Her skin pebbled under his fingers and his manhood twitched with every new sensation. She stopped kissing him when she felt his slight movement against her lower belly and fixed her eyes on his again. A wicked smile flowered on her lips and she slowly licked her lips. That gave him pause. He knew he was in even more danger now. He made a move to pull away from her but her right hand circled him and the minimal squeeze was absolutely mindblowing.

“Not fair,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“Wh…. What?” he asked with some difficulty, breathing deeply, his stare gowing from her eyes to her lips and then to her hand now slowly pumping him. Extremely slow. He made a small movement to push himself between her fingers, his body inviting her to continue, to increase the pressure and the speed, even against what his mind had decided. To refuse her until she acceded to marry him.

“You got a taste of me, but I did not yet taste you, Aemond,” she said, blue eyes staring him down, then going to his crotch where his hard manhood pulsed in her hand. She crawled closer until her face came directly over his middle. She licked her lips, then softly blew over his cock. “I have never done this, so…. Bare with me,” she said and slowly licked his tip. They both moaned at the same time and he twitched. He ached to move himself up, in her mouth but he grabbed the sheet beneath and did his best to hold still, to let her do whatever she wanted with him. When he felt her warm mouth around him, slowly at first, then being covered more, he fell back on the bed, eyes closed. He didn't know how long he could last. Probably not long. One of her hands continued to pump his length while her mouth sucked him. As her other hand caressed his abdomen, he clasped it in one of his and opened his eye, locking it with hers. He could not resist tangling the fingers of his other hand in her hair, following the bobbing movement she made, holding himself back from guiding her, from pushing her down as to take him to the hilt. He had vague memories of experiencing something similar in those few visits Aegon took him to the Street of Silk, but it had never felt like this. Yes, those women had seemed more knowledgeable, but seeing Alaera so obviously enjoying him filling her mouth, taking him deeper and deeper every time, pushed him to the brink of absolute pleasure much faster than any other had before.

“I'm going to…” he started saying, knowing he would last no more. He tried to pull away but she intensified her sucking and the grip on his shaft, not letting him out of her mouth. He emptied himself in a few spasms, ecstasy coursing unbound through his entire body. Aemond Targaryen now knew rapture and its name was Alaera Targaryen. He knew then he would marry no other, no matter who commanded it.

Chapter Text

Aemond Targaryen heard the knock on the door and jolted awake. He looked around and, sure enough, he was not in his room. Nor was the beautiful woman still sleeping next to him a figment of his imagination. Thank the gods!

Another knock interrupted his appreciation of her youthful beauty. The words “Princess, should I come later?” and the shake of the door's handle made him jump out of bed, looking around for his clothes strewn all around her bed. Alaera was still on her belly, head barely lifting from the pillow, chuckling sleepily. The smile on her rosy lips made him want to do very wicked things to her, even more than her curves bare from the sheet tangled between her legs which was only covering her thighs. Her certainly loud reaction that he now knew would follow was all that detained him.

She stood from the bed and drew the tangled sheet higher around herself, then approached him lazily, with feline-like movements.

“I'm coming, Tora,” she said but stopped next to him, caressing his chest with the tips of her fingers and the sudden perking of his nipples made him stumble while still trying to pull his pants on. He stopped, gaze fixed to her bright blue eyes, seeing in them his own feelings mirrored. She chuckled again and got on the tips of her toes so that their eyes were on the same level, with her right hand sustaining herself on his still naked shoulder. Her left one then gently caressed his right cheek while she slowly brought her face close to his. He barely noticed her only garment, the bedsheet, falling between them at their feet, leaving her completely naked. The moment he felt her lips on his marred left cheek, leaving soft kisses downwards toward his lips, his mind emptied and his hands abandoned the terrible task of tying his breeches. His arms circled her body and pulled her against him, crushing her breasts to his chest just as her lips brushed his in the lightest of kisses.

“I don't need anything this morning, Tora,” she said, her piercing blue eyes on his. He couldn't break that connection not even should he want to. And he never would. He felt his own lips curl upwards in a smile. Right now he needed nothing else but her. “Nothing that I do not already have,” she added softly just for him and he lifted her the exact moment she jumped up, circling his hips with her long, silky legs, her arms around his neck.

“I brought you a tray for breakfast,” the maid added. The words made her eyes open wide and he saw a naughty smile move the lips he wanted to taste more than any food.

“We could eat,” she said softly, planting another playful kiss on his lips. “Leave it in front of the door, Tora! I'll pick it up at my leisure,” she said loudly and started kissing him in earnest.

“Yes, my Lady,” the maid said and they heard the clattering as she laid the tray down.

“Thank you!” Alaera called, then her mouth was on his again, exploring his lips, tempting him to part them and allow her access, even before the maid's steps disappeared. He pulled his head slightly away and fixed her with a serious stare.

“Marry me,” he said after some long moments. “I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life,” he said when her head dropped a bit, her eyes leaving his. “I want to worship your body day and night, without having to hide,” he added and his heart rejoiced when her eyes came up again, glistening. “I want to love you openly, Alaera!” he said and regretted not having read some more romantic poetry, so that he could say the right words to convince her of the strength of his feelings. “Look around us. Don't you see how rare this is, to find true, deep, requited love?” he asked and her limbs became tighter around him, her eyes becoming more and more bright with unshed tears.

Long moments passed as he was searching for an answer in her deep pools of blue. He could distinguish her inner turmoil and he regretted all that had made her so afraid of letting herself be loved by him. If her past had not made her into this exceptional woman, he would turn the world upside down to go back and erase the pain and the isolation, but mostly the horror of that singular moment that made her reject male affection and intimacy.

Her head moved oh so slightly down in an approving gesture and he thought he had imagined it. His head tilted in question to one side, incredulous. “You'll have to say it, Alaera, for I cannot believe anything less,” he said, his voice clipped.

She took a sharp intake of breath and the friction between her breast and his chest sent a shot of tension all the way to his crotch. He ignored the pulsing there and the uncomfortable push of his breeches against his skin, his eye fixed on hers, slipping shortly on her lips when she wet them as if preparing.

“I'll marry you, Aemond,” she said and with those simple words, barely breathed between her still plump lips, the greatest joy seemed to explode in his chest. He didn't even realize when he started turning around and around with joy, with her crushed to his chest. He stopped and brought her mouth to his, invading it at once, with all his repressed excitement. He didn't even notice when his knees slammed into the edge of the bed and he crawled on it with her still hanging from his torso and hips. She unclasped her hold on him and he felt at once bared, as if lacking the most important part of himself. He looked at her, on the bed underneath him, relaxed, arms stretched above her head, her unbound silver hair splayed in big curls around her head, watching him with longing in her eyes. He wondered if there was only desire that drove her or if her feelings were truly similar to his.

Alaera. It was her who made him feel complete, strong, accomplished, worthy as never before. He knew it had always been her, even in his childhood, who had always encouraged him to believe in himself, to improve, to find strength in failure and to continue on his path.

He slowly crawled above her, his eye never leaving hers, the black in the center of her blue pools getting bigger with his every lazy movement. He looked down at her body, at her lovely curves, at her lean but muscled thighs, her soft abdomen that showed the trace of tensing muscles underneath her unblemished skin as she supported herself on her elbows to bring her face closer to his. Her soft breasts were almost against his chest again when he closed the gap between their faces but only to smell her, brushing his nose on her temple, his cheek to hers, glancing shortly down at her feminine curves bared to his sight, waiting to be adored by his lips. He started to trail kisses all along the side of her face, her jaw, then fell to her collarbone and over her breasts and abdomen, alternating smelling her skin and licking it. When he descended to her navel and then downwards she grabbed his face and brought it up to hers, kissing him with abandon.

“I need you,” she moaned between kisses, her hands descending from his back to his waist, then pushing his breeches down. Her spread legs made it impossible to deny her. He already knew her taste and was dying to see just how well she fit around him. He felt his hardness spring free from his pants and brush uncontrollably against her soaked inner lips. He tried to stop himself but his body was moving against his wishes, rubbing his cock to her slick core, aligning himself to invade her. “Please,” she said against his lips and her voice woke him up. He took his manhood in his hand and rubbed his tip against the apex of her thighs while his tongue danced with hers.

“You can have me, all of me, whenever you want, however you want, my love,” he said, continuing to tease her with his tip, now bringing it to her opening and slightly pushing against it, just not enough to actually fill her. “...when we're married,” he added and retired. Her eyes sprung open, disbelief painted on her face, her chest lifting so temptingly with every deep breath she took, trying to calm her desire while taking his words in. Then she smiled wickedly and touched the tip of his cock, swiped the drop gathering there with a finger she then brought to her lips. She sucked her own finger, enjoying the taste of his juice, her eyes never leaving his.

“I'll make you pay for this,” she said softly but the promise in her words was not lost on him.

“How, my love?” he asked, dying to have her punish him for the rest of his nights. And maybe most days too.

“I'll find a way,” she said smiling.

“I can't wait,” he said, and dropped his mouth to one of her breasts, sucking shortly on her elevated nipple. “I can't imagine anything I would not enjoy coming from you,” he said and winked at her. “When you're my wife, of course,” he added and turned to lay on the bed next to her, took her left hand in his right one and brought it to his lips.

“Fine!” she said and turned laying on her back, closed her eyes and started caressing her body with her free right hand, first her breasts, then descended to her abdomen and downwards to her thighs, legs spreading just enough to allow herself access. He heard her breathing deepening again and turned on his right side to her and watched her touch herself. She turned her head to him and slowly wet her lips, eyes now open, stuck to his. Her deep exhale when her fingers first stroke her apex made him moan too. His hand drifted down to his cock, still engorged, throbbing to get release. He started to stroke himself in a rhythm similar to that of her fingers on her own pleasure point. He reveled in her every movement trying to memorize what she touched, how hard, the pattern, for when he would allow himself to unleash all his dreams of them into reality. The quickening of her moans and breaths accelerated his own ecstasy and, watching her come, he almost could imagine pushing her over the brink himself and then spilling inside her and not in his own hand. When their shaking subsided, they kissed slowly, lazily promising more for their next encounter.

They lay embraced, slowly caressing each other's faces, long enough to notice the sun ascend in the sky outside her big windows.

“The Queen…” she started.

“...is unlikely to approve, I know,” he continued, a trace of sadness in his voice. “I'll try anyway,” he said.

“And then?” she asked matter of fact, no maliciousness in her tone.

“We marry in secret, Alaera,” he said, in a self assured tone, one corner of his mouth upturned. “You're not getting away that easily, issa jorrāelagon,” he said and smiled wickedly.

“Actually, I'm not trying to,” she said and he discerned the surprise in her voice, as if she was just coming to terms with her own decision.

“You can,” he said, turning her face up to look him straight in the eye. “I'll do whatever you want, nothing at all if that's your wish. I'll be with you on your own terms,” he added, sadness enveloping him completely. He could not continue this game. He loved her too much to actually withhold his affection in order to force her into marriage. It had been fun and it had stretched his resolve beyond his limits, but in truth, he wanted her, no matter how. As long as she was his and he was hers, nothing else mattered. Marriage or not, she could do with him whatever she wanted.

“Good to know,” she said and smiled. “I want to marry you. It's only fear that held me back,” she said, a trace of shame in her voice.

“No one has fought for me as much as you have, Alaera,” he said. “You started when I was but a child and you never stopped since. It's my turn now, to fight for us,” he said and kissed her deeply, just enjoying her taste and feel, then stood and dressed. He needed to talk with his mother although he already knew her answer. But still, the respectful son in him had to at least try. He owed that much to the one who had risked her life to give him his. She said nothing and he understood why. “And then we'll talk all about those fears of yours, issa jorrāelagon,” he said as he swiftly dressed and then turned the key to open the door. He first looked through the barely opened door and only when he ascertained there was no one in the corridor did he exit her room, but not before he quickly brought her the breakfast tray and said, “You need to eat, Alaera!”

“You do not tell me what to do!” she said behind his back.

“Oh, I will and you'll like it, I promise,” he said over his shoulder with a grin on his lips and closed the door behind him.

Aemond first stopped in his room and washed himself quickly, noticing how he still smelled of her. He almost regretted scrubbing her scent off his body, but promised himself it was the last time he had to do it.

He went straight to his mother's rooms, knowing that he had a chance to find her before all her daily obligations. Lucky enough, she was there, drinking tea, lost in thought, a few written parchments spread in front of her.

“Aemond, what brings you here at this hour?” she asked kindly, sitting up from the chair, a bit alarmed by his unexpected visit, early in the morning.

“Mother, I know of all the reasons for reticence,” he started, taking her arms in his hands. “But I must ask you to agree to my marrying Alaera,” he said and noticed her stiffen at once.

“Not this again, Aemond!” she said, pulling away from his touch.

“It is not a whim, mother. And neither will it go away, as much as you had hoped for the last ten or so years,” he continued. “It only became clear to me, there is none better for me, none who has been there for me as she has, who has believed in me and encouraged me to become who I am today, with no criticism, no censure, only gentle advice and guidance.” He saw her roll her eyes and thought he might have to turn some of those attributes on his mother, for she had done her best for him, even when, between caring for his ailing father and his troublesome older brother, between politics and her numerous queenly engagements, there had not been much time left in the day. “Other than you, of course,” he added.

“She is ten years your senior, Aemond!” she said, grasping at straws with growing desperation.

“I do not care, I find the women my age superficial, simple minded and uneducated,” he countered simply. “And wasn't father twenty years your elder when he took you to wife?” he added, knowing it was a weak argument, easily dismantled.

“It is not the same and you know it!” she said, huffing. “She probably can't give you children,” she said.

“I don't particularly like children,” he replied. “My siblings can take care of that for us all. And didn't the Good Queen birth children even in her fifth decade?” he asked as if he didn't know exactly.

“The dumb ones,” Alicent sputtered. “Aemond, she's probably not a…. maid,” she whispered, ashamed of touching such a subject.

“I know, mother,” he said, imitating her hushed tone. He approached her and whispered, “She couldn't be given the things we have been doing, even this morning,” he said and felt a bit ashamed to have made his mother turn red with indignation.

“Aemond!” she exclaimed, appalled, her hand clasping the seven pointed star hanging from her neck.

“Lady mother, I know love does not seem like a good enough reason to you, but I have loved her all my life…” he started but she interrupted him.

“A child's obsession! All you ever wanted was a dragon and Alaera!” she said exasperated, as if reaching the end of her patience with an irreverent child.

“I loved her as a sister, up until it was suggested she might marry Aegon, long ago. I was about ten, I think…Only then did I feel a wrongness in that plan, I did not even understand why at the time. It just felt wrong,” he accentuated the word. “After you had Aegon and Helaena marry, did I see the unhappiness there and wished more for myself. Alaera is happiness to me. I will have none without her. Every time she came back I felt a joy beyond words, her gifts always catered to my interests and talents. She knows me, she understands me like none other….” To that he stopped as his mother came once again closer, searching his eye for a hidden truth.

“Does she really, Aemond?” she asked, undertones telling more than the words themselves.

“I…” he stuttered for the first time today.

“Or did you only show her your best side in order to make her believe in this dream of yours?” she inquired and uncertainty enveloped him in a cold coat. She must have read the wariness in him for she pushed on. “Do not fool yourself, Aemond. She will never choose you over Rhaenyra. No matter what she whispers in your ears at night,” she added with maliciousness in her voice. Was it jealousy, he wondered? He had heard how firmly would mothers hold on to their sons, not allowing younger women to truly win their affections for fear of being replaced. Was that why she had married Aegon to Helaena, the only woman she truly loved?

“She whispered firmly NO up until this morning,” he said, pulling at his respect for his mother, doing his best to see matters from her perspective.

“Just a ploy to entice you more,” she countered.

“Mother, you know her. You know she never wanted to marry. She could have had me six years ago when father proposed it. She evaded and still managed not to hurt the feelings of a little boy,” he remembered.

“She did not want a boy. She wanted her freedom to roam gods know where, with only gods know whom,” she replied with growing impatience. “But now, you have grown so handsome and powerful,” she said and she caressed his cheek, loving eyes looking up at him. “Now she wants you, probably in order to control you once your father leaves us,” she said with some venin in her voice.

“Think about it, mother!” he said. “If she and I were to marry, what a blow it would be to Rhaenyra's claim, for her own sister to switch sides!” he said, glad of the argument he had devised.

“Ha!” was his mother's reaction. “You are deluded, my smart son, to believe Alaera would ever leave Rhaenyra's side!” she said with the conviction of her intelligent mind but also because of the memories of her youth, when she and Rhaenyra had ignored the little quiet princess who had tried to follow them around a few times only to give up after being constantly ignored. He had heard the tale as a child from a teenage Alaera, still hurt by her sister's indifference, when she had seen him be ignored by Aegon.

“They were never close,” he said with somewhat less confidence. “They rarely see each other. And she loves me, mother!” When the queen shook her head in disbelief, eyes downed on her hands, playing with her rings, he continued. “I might be young, but I know her better than all of you. And I am bringing down her walls, more every day!” he said with renewed conviction.

“Ooooh, she has you well around her fingers!” she exclaimed, incredulously. “Did you know she has been writing once or even twice a week to her sister, telling her to come to King's Landing, as your father's condition worsens? Why do you think that is, my son? Just to offer Rhaenyra the possibility of saying goodbye? Or rather the chance to better uphold her claim, should the time come?”

“Alaera is fair beyond a doubt,” he said after long moments. He knew his mother had seen the astonishment on his face, but then again, he should not be surprised at Alaera' missives to her older sister. He would expect no less from a loving sister and daughter. “If we marry, she will remain by my side, I know it,” he added. “And mother, think about it, she is the “Dragon of Dorne”. The Prince of Dorne owes her a life debt, thrice over. She saved both him and his two elder children from certain death. She could call upon him to our side, should the need arise,” he said content with his reasoning.

“If she would agree with our cause!” she argued. “When have you last seen her interact with your brother Aegon?” she inquired, insinuating. He could not deny it, he had long noticed how Alaera went cold and stiff in Aegon's presence only to shortly after excuse herself for whatever trivial reason. The realization bothered him, remembering their talk the other night, and how strongly she had talked of their brother's faults. A shiver went through him. No, Alaera would never back Aegon's claim to the Iron Throne, not even out of love for him. His mother was right. He felt at once defeated. But still he knew, deep down, he could not give her up now that he was so close to having her, to truly have her, and not only for a night. Maybe, if all went according to his plans, a child would bind her to his side, even if reluctantly.

“I forbid it, Aemond!” he heard his mother's voice as if through a haze. He bowed his head stiffly.

“My Queen,” he said and turned to leave.

“Aemond,” he heard his mother say, stopped but did not turn to face her. “You will find love again, I promise you,” she said but still he did not turn to acknowledge her words. Aemond then opened the door to her rooms and left.

He did not stop until he reached his room. His resolve did not falter. His plan was made. Alaera had agreed so they would marry in secret, then influence their father to publicly encourage their union and then openly take her to wife. Afterwards a child would ensure that Alaera would never leave him, no matter what the succession might bring.

He did not waste long. He made a round about the Keep, annulled all previous engagements, sparred with Cole, but unable to concentrate, made the most basic mistakes he had mastered years ago. He excused himself feigning malaise and started walking only to find himself at her door, still covered in sweat and dust from the training court. After several knocks he entered despite getting no answer. She wasn't there. The room was once again tidy. He suddenly had a feeling of reliving this exact moment again and again and searched his memory for it. It struck him at once: she had left without a good-bye several times before, mostly after having the wishes of others forced upon her, mostly unannounced suitors. His mother had simply accused Alaera of selfishness, of not taking her responsibility to the realm seriously. Did the queen even know his sister had constantly searched for a cure for their father's illness, for more than half of her life? That she had traded her youth for dusty scrolls in dark corners of the world, all in hope of finding something, anything that might help their father? That all she had ever wanted was for peace and unity?

A cold sweat trickled on his back: had she left again? Alaera had admitted to him just this morning that she was afraid of them and he had simply left her without talking about it, without trying to appease her fears and find solutions. His own fear of losing her forced him into action: he ran around the Keep, not seeing anyone, not answering calls or greetings, even knocking some people over, barely mumbling a few words of apology, searching for her. Something else he had done before, in his younger years, those times when she had left without hugging him and promising him a gift upon her return. He had never known when he would see her again. It had been torture, he now realised, to have his most beloved person leave him again and again to the company of those who did not truly like or care for him.

After failing to find her in their father's rooms, in the dining room or in the library, he finally reached Helaena's rooms, now full of laughter for all three of his nephews were there, playing with their favorite aunt. Both Jaehaera and Jaehaerys were climbing on Alaera's torso to reach some toy she was keeping in a hand stretched high above her head, while little Maelor was crawling on all fours to them, Helaena trying to at least keep at least her youngest from attacking Alaera. Only she saw him arrive and went to him with Maelor safely in her arms, a small smile on her pale lips.

“Soon, brother, soon,” she said, suddenly with sadness in her otherwise placid voice. “For now, she is still here,” she added, her eyes falling on their laughing older sister, now assaulted by the only children Aemond tolerated. “But not for long…” he heard Helaena say to herself, while looking toward their elder sister. He heard her barely whispered words and the sorrow coating them and promised himself to do everything to keep Alaera here.

He watched them play and enjoy themselves for what seemed like hours, barely saying a word. What he saw was happiness, the kind he was desperate to feel and be part of. Alaera's constant laughing, her luminous smiles made him dream of seeing them every day, of being the reason she smiled and laughed. And he wanted his children in her arms, their little ones in their bed, playing and laughing together. He ached to make her as happy as she looked right now, with Helaena next to her, with Maelor asleep in her arms, with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera pulling at her arms and legs, every once in a while smiling at him between playing with them.

When the children were taken to their room for their afternoon nap, they left Helaena and made their way toward their rooms in quiet companionship. There was a tension in the air between them, only made stronger by the silence. Their steps in unison, he saw it as another sign that they fit each other in every possible way.

They entered her room without a word spoken, she closed the door and leaned her back on it. “She said no,” she stated simply. He could not look at her, but stood with his back to her, turned to the windows bathed in the afternoon sun, a breeze blowing the fine drapes.

“It changes nothing,” he said.

“It should,” he heard her clear voice behind him. He turned and her eyes were glistening. “She is your mother. I am certain she loves you and wants nothing but the best for you, Aemond. And that is NOT me!” she said with all the conviction he knew she was capable of.

He was in front of her in a couple of long strides. “How can you say that? When you know what I feel for you!”

“Because I know me. And I know what the future will bring. For I have truly tried my best to prevent it, but it is looming close, Aemond. Dark clouds are already circling us and the storm they bring will engulf us all. We will not come out of it the same. Some will not even come out on the other side.” There was endless desolation in her tone and all he wanted was to envelop her in his arms, to mold her into his body and keep her safe from whatever she thought was coming.

“We will weather it together, Alaera!” he said and brought his forehead to hers, eye closed, inhaling her fresh scent, with hints of lilac and pine. What a weird combination, he thought. But it was her, delicate flower hardened by a harsh environment. They remained like that for long moments, simply cherishing the nearness, the sound of each other's soft breathing.

He heard her deep inhale as if she was steeling herself and waited for her words. He knew her mind worked tirelessly and more arguments were coming to the surface, now that she had acceded to his request. “Aemond, if there is even a chance that this is more of the flesh than of the heart, let us get over with it. I do not want to have tempted you into something more than you would have otherwise given,” she said and he could not believe her words.

He blew out the air from his chest in utter disbelief. “If you would say next year, I would accept anyway. If you would say we can only marry in five years, I would wait. It matters not when or where, only that you receive my love and love me in return, even just a fraction of what I feel for you. Nyke kostagon umbagon nykeā glaeson syt nykeā tubis rūsīr ao, issa jorrāelagon!” (I would wait a lifetime for a day with you, my love!)

He saw tears now falling on her face without her even noticing them for she was busy pulling his face to hers, capturing his lips between her slightly parted ones. He tasted her salty tears and it made her mouth even sweeter to the ministrations of his tongue. As intense as this kiss was, it was not meant to lead to a more passionate clash of their bodies. It simply expressed the intensity of their feelings, now mutually and openly accepted.

“I need to tell you some things about me, about my past,” she said after he had dried her eyes with his lips.

“It would change nothing,” he said simply.

“Even so, I want you to know certain things, to better understand me and how I became who I am now,” she explained and he nodded. “Things that might even change…this,” she added, indicating between them.

“Nothing could,” he said and gestured to the table close to the window. Just then a knock on the door made them jolt in surprise.

“Princess, should I help you get ready for dinner?” the handmaid's voice came right after the knock on the door.

“No need, Tora, thank you,” Alaera said loudly as to be heard from the outer side of the closed door. “Go to dinner, I'll come too after I see father,” she said in a hushed voice to him.

She did not. She sent word that she would sup with their father. His mother looked displeased, sending him pointed looks that he did his best to ignore. He knew the queen would want to attack Alaera and also that there was no way to avoid it.

“Tell Alaera that I want to talk to her, Aemond. She is to come to my room after we break fast on the morrow,” were the only words she addressed him the whole evening. He had seen them coming, but they still sent a chill down his spine. As much as he trusted Alaera's word, a small part of him still feared her decision being overturned, either by his mother or by her own fears and doubts.

The time waiting for her that evening seemed to last forever. He paced his room and shortly wondered that the rug was still intact by the time Alaera came to him. The Keep was already quiet when she knocked and entered his room.

“How is he?” Aemond asked, containing his angst and uncertainty to the best of his capability.

“He was…awake. He wanted me to read to him,” she said, with melancholy in her voice. She came closer to him, stopping an arm reach away. “You should talk to him, Aemond, before….” she said and stopped, “before he leaves us for good,” she continued, reconciled with the future she foresaw. He looked at her for long moments, wondering if he should tell her how little their father's words mattered to him now. He nodded curtly.

“Mother summoned you to her chambers on the morrow, after we break fast,” he said, changing the uncomfortable subject.

“Tomorrow? I would have done it today,” she said with a wicked smile. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “All she knows, we might be married by tomorrow morning,” she said with a little grin, but he noted some doubt underneath it.

“Could we now?” he asked, playing surprise.

“We could, but we will not!” she said and sat at the table gesturing for him to sit too. “We still have much to talk about,” she said somewhat apprehensive. “And we will take the time to truly ponder afterwards, before we leap into the maelstrom of a secret marriage, little brother,” she said ruefully, probably enjoying the look of surprise on his face.

“As you wish, Alaera,” he said and took her hand to kiss it before sitting opposite her.

“As your mother most certainly pointed out, I am no maid. It would have been a very sad life if I had stayed one this long, “ she added ruefully.

“It matters not to me,” he said.

“Still, as you might have noticed, I lack ...in experience with a man. After…” She stopped and shortly looked away. “After watching my mother die, I rejected all that had to do with relations between men and women. I knew just enough to understand that not being touched by a man would mean my purpose in life would never be to bring sons into the world.” She paused as if unsure if to continue or not. He kept from making any gesture and simply allowed her to say whatever she felt like sharing with him.

“I did not think I would ever truly desire or love, Aemond,” she said with a small smile, probably thinking of her younger self, so concentrated on her studies that nothing else mattered.

“But you did,” he said softly, encouraging her to continue.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes on the open window facing the narrow sea. “When I met her, it was as if my whole body thrummed with some unknown sensation. Her eyes, her voice, the way she walked, her touch…” she said and the slight hitch in her voice made Aemond burn with jealousy.

“Who was she?” he asked.

“Coryanne Martell,” Alaera said with a wide smile. “Prince Qoran Martell's younger sister,” she explained.

“After you saved the Prince and his children?” he asked.

“Yes. He invited me to visit Sunspear and there I found so much more than I expected. Love. Two years older than me and so smart, so beautiful, so learned… I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Love changes you and the way you see the world.” Her voice drifted and she was obviously lost in memories.

“When you came back you were different. Grown. So self assured,” he said, remembering the day she had been brought into the throne room straight from the outer court because King Viserys had received a raven from Prince Qoran. “That day, in the throne room….you were glowing, Alaera. The smile on your face made me jump with joy,” he said and their hands found themselves on the table between them.

“I was in love, for the first time,” she said and he noticed the softness in her voice, but also the pain of loss.

“What happened?” he asked.

“She wanted me there, with her, not flying around the world chasing a dream,” she said simply. “After some two years, she stopped waiting for me, stopped receiving me with open arms….I understood, I too wanted to stay with her, to travel with her, if only she'd agreed…but she did not want to be parted from her family and her home for long stretches of time. So I went on without her. I looked for her in others, for her laugh, for her smell, for the sway of her hips, for her touch….” she trailed and Aemond did not miss the glittering in her eyes stuck to the darkness outside the window. “It never compared,” she said simply, “until you found me on that beach.” she said, her eyes again turned to him.

“Hmm. Only then?” he asked and he noticed the drop in his own tone. He could have sworn that Alaera had purposefully avoided him on her last visit, more than three years before. Her smile told him she knew exactly what he was asking about.

“You were so young!” she said with a slight shake of her head. “You still are, Aemond!” she exclaimed and he hated the direction her thoughts were taking. “But something shifted. And you were always around me and my body just…” she said and stopped. “I had never been attracted to a man… and one so much younger than me?” she said with a smile. “I had left you a boy, not yet as tall as I was, and came back to find a man taller than me, one who looked at me as if I was all he wanted in the world…”

“Because you were. You are,” he said with conviction and he hoped she could read the certainty in his eye.

Their eyes stayed glued to each other but he had the sense she was holding back something, a challenge to his affirmation.

“Is that why you ran and chose to take an older husband?” he asked the one question that had plagued him for the last three years. He felt a cold shiver going through him, thinking of an old man that he knew the lord Dayne to have been, touching her, holding her, bedding her. He did his best to relax his body against the back of the chair and flexed his fingers without even noticing, never taking his eye from her. He was more than surprised to see a warm smile appear on her lips. Those lips. Soft and warm and so sweet, he already knew. And again the image of a shriveled old man taking those lips….He inhaled deeply and pushed his growing anger down.

“When I married him, lord Dayne had already been immobilized in his bed for about seven years after falling from his horse. He could barely speak, mostly unintelligible, and had difficulties even eating more than porridge,“ she clarified, perfectly understanding his jealousy of her husband. “I did not want a husband, Aemond,” she said and the undertone told him why she still held back to some degree.

“You do not have to…” he started, wanting her to know he would hold back should she truly want it. She stretched her hand and captured his on the table between them.

“I know. It's all new to me, you see…. In my travels, I was curious enough to find out what it meant to be with a man. But only from a distance. I was never truly…tempted.” She made a break, her inquisitive eyes searching his for a reaction, but he only nodded in understanding.

“I actually met our great aunt Saera, if you can believe it. I stayed in her apartments and she showed me to one of her many pleasure houses. I saw there all that can happen between a man and a woman ...or more. I saw such a wide range of activities. But I was so detached, I had more interest in scrolls and books about diseases of the body.” She paused and he noticed some discomfort there and understood just how big of a surprise the attraction between them had been to her. He felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips but, as much as his pants started to feel tight, he willed himself to listen and not react. “It took coming back home to…reawaken,” she said and her smile told him she had not yet changed her mind.

After long moments of silence where their eyes stayed locked, she abruptly stood and the skirts of her simple but elegant dress swished around her feet in crimson waves. He could not stop himself from admiring her slender stature, knowing already the strong body and the beautiful curves hidden beneath. He burned to undress her and caress her entire body with both hands and lips but sensed some other purpose in her move. She approached him, still sitting, and looked down on him, some coldness in her sky blue eyes. He wondered how much he could read in them, be it decisiveness or passion, anger or happiness, it was all there for him to read. Now he knew he would not like her next words.

“We should keep some distance tonight and tomorrow and truly think of all the implications of a marriage, Aemond,” she said. “Think of all your mother has said,” her tone sending chills down his spine. “She is most probably right in all of it,” she added and her smile was anything but warm and kind, wryness dripping in his ears.

She then tried to pull her hand still clasped in his but he did not let go and stood at once, grabbing her waist with his free hand and pulled her to him, only a hand width between their bodies and their faces. Their eyes locked once again and he saw some surprise but also amusement now taking over her. He placed her hand over his heart and covered it with his.

“I understand her reasoning,” he said, his lips almost touching hers. “But think about it, Alaera, together, married, we could change it all, if only we would want it,” he said and he noticed her shortened breath. He lazily licked his lips anticipating her taste on them and it did not escape him that her eyes darted down and followed the move of his tongue. He allowed himself a half smile of success and inhaled deeply when he saw her involuntarily bite her lower lip. “Allow me!” he said and captured her just bitten lip between his own. He did his best to mark his claim with that kiss, with his tongue slowly but decidedly coercing her mouth to open to him, with the strokes of his tongue against hers. Her lips were his and nothing anyone would say could keep him from marrying her, if she'd have him. Damn all that would come. They were the blood of the dragon, the strongest of their family, and their love would conquer through fire and blood.

Chapter Text

Alaera Targaryen left the room of the man she had grown to truly love over many years, first as brother and, more recently, as something more. She walked the halls of Maegor's Keep still restless, still not believing her strength in leaving his room.

Aemond's effect on her mind and her body was still unthinkable to a person who had lived her life striving for complete control over herself when she had no dominion over what happened around her. The thoughts swarming her mind ranged from running away from King's Landing that very night and never coming back to going back to his room and begging him to finish putting his mark on her. Her body ached to have him but she recognised it for what it was. She knew that the intense feelings were not just of her body, but of that thinking part of herself who argued against it and against herself. The same intensity had been there with Coryanne ten years past and she knew now, after all the time since their separation, that it had been true love and not just lust.

It took her quite some time to quiet the raging in her mind and plan the next day. She had made him a promise and she had the mind to keep it, even if she did not trust the future would allow their union to last. But Alaera had given years to the realm in the best way she had known, had even sacrificed her first love in hopes of finding the elusive cure to her father's ailment, even if to no avail. No she longed to live for herself once more, as she had only done for a few moons, on her first visit to Dorne. More than ten years later, impending doom on the horizon, she wanted to stop time and just enjoy the possibility of happiness. Even if she had to steal it, even if she had to hide it from the world.

She woke up early, before the sun had even appeared, and followed the mostly unknown maze of catacombs beneath to Keep all the way to the Dragonpit where the dragonkeepers spent their entire time, having lodgings near to it. After putting her plan in motion, a sense of doom filled her but she made a conscious effort to ignore it. Too long had she only thought about the well-being of others. For once she would be selfish and follow her heart's desire. Even should she burn for it. The possibility did cross her mind, but she shoved it in a dark recess of her suspicious mind.

After getting back to the Keep, she shortly freshened up and then proceeded to go to the Queens quarters. She knocked and the answer came right away. "Come!" She heard a cool voice. She stepped inside and her father's second wife, Alicent Hightower, turned to her, the woman's mouth drawn in displeasure.

"My Queen," Alaera said, bowing and letting the Queen have the first blow.

Ever since marrying her father more than two decades ago, their relationship had been good, if only on a superficial level. A sixteen year old Alicent did not know what to do with a little girl of seven who refused to speak for almost three years, who only read books and hid in the Dragonpit. The Queen had never truly tried to get close to the weird little girl Alaera had been and, after all that took place between herself and Rhaenyra, the Queen had become even colder to her former friend's little sister. Alaera had been happy that his father's wife at least allowed her to be close to her children. Only later did she begin to suspect that Alicent had been relieved to have Alaera spend so much time with her young ones so that she did not have to and was therefore able to give more time to all her other obligations, all the while knowing their loving elder sister was there for them. Which Alaera had most happily done, as she saw a new chance in her younger siblings, a family whose attention she did not have to beg for. But Alicent's tolerance which might have boarded on sympathy had its limits. Marrying her favorite son was most probably not something Alicent Hightower was willing to allow.

"You plan to marry Aemond, I hear," she said, watching Alaera's every reaction. Alaera was impressed by the direct approach and she admitted to herself having sympathy for the woman in front of her.

"He asked, several times. In time I became inclined to approve," Alaera said simply, not shying away from the older woman's prying eyes.

"Seems like an awfully short time," Alicent said in a lower voice, as if to herself and Alera acknowledged the truth of it. She did nothing to indicate her assent though. "Why now, Princess?" the Queen said, more animated, even taking a few steps toward her. "Why not before, when the King proposed it?" she added, almost irritated.

"He was a child back then. And I loved him as a sister does, nothing more. I did not want him to accede without knowing he had options, just because his father pushed him. I would never marry someone who is not an adult, capable of making such life-changing decisions for themselves," she added and she saw in Alicent's eyes a small reaction, a sign that the Queen had understood her allusion to Alicent's marriage to the King when she was but sixteen. The Queen let her eyes fall to her ringed fingers and nervously toyed with one of them, rotating it on her left ring finger.

"I hope you know I do not approve and no septon will be allowed to officiate, Princess!" she said after long moments, raising her eyes to Alaera. The younger woman saw the steel there and was not surprised.

"I did not expect anything else, your Grace," Alaera said, putting no feeling in her voice, then bowed her head slightly. She made a move to leave, but the Queen stopped her.

"I did not release you, Princess!" she said in a voice now filled with dread. Alaera acknowledged with a small bow and remained unmoved. "Will you marry him anyway?" she asked with a glistening in her eyes, a sign that she was holding her tears from falling.

"You tell me there is no way to do that, your Grace. So how could I?" said Alaera, regret dripping in her tone. Even as Queen, the woman in front of her had no power over her son's decision. Alicent Hightower was left without reply, only looking straight at Alaera, eyes still questioning, probably wondering why Alaera was not fighting, why wasn't she arguing to convince the elder woman of her feelings and good intentions, of the supposed value of a marriage to Aemond. As there was none for Alaera, not other value but the binding of her life to the man she loved, there were no machinations or ill intent. She saw no reason to try to convince a woman in a loveless marriage that her son would be happy with her. "But you ask the wrong question, my Queen," she added softly, wanting the older woman in front of her to understand her, if only a little.

"What do you mean?" Alicent Hightower asked, some hope in her voice.

"You should ask why did I accept to marry him at all," she said kindly.

"Why then?" the Queen asked, somewhat impatient, feigning disinterest in Alaera's motives.

"Because I love him in ways no other could. I see the man where every other high born lady would only see the Prince," she said and smiled warmly, thoughts of his warm embraces and passionate kisses filling her chest with warmth. "I see the kindness where others would see only the power," she continued. "I see a strength where others would see only a horrible scar to be covered," she said and noticed a small tear fall on the Queen's cheek. The auburn haired beautiful woman in front of her rushed to wipe it away with her hand, in a gesture meant to hide something she probably perceived as weakness. She then came close to Alaera and laid a hand on her clasped ones.

"But do you see the anger? Or do you delude yourself that forgiveness has erased it?" Alicent asked, looking Alaera straight in her eyes and the concern there was more than obvious. A pang of doubt blossomed in her already inquisitive mind. It had been her choice to believe that he had grown beyond the pain of the past injuries, either of body or mind.

"Do you not think him capable of pure love, your Grace? Or to receive it for himself, beyond title and power?" Alaera countered but she knew that she was grasping. She could duel with words until dusk, but the truth would only reveal itself in time. Judgement was close, anyway. So why not live until then? Why not love for as long as it was still possible?

"Even should you marry him, Princess, it might very well be very short lived," the Queen said, making a few steps away from her stepdaughter and Alaera noted some regret there. Had the Queen understood just how profound their feelings were? Could it be that part of her was inclined to approve of their union?

"I know, Your Grace," she said with a wry smile. "That makes it all the more precious," Alaera said and felt her own eyes sting with unshed tears. She approached the Queen and said, "Wouldn't you want to have true love for a moon than none at all?" The Queen's eyes widened and Alaera knew it had been a low blow. She could not imagine living the Queen's loveless life, only caring for politics, realm and the children she gave a man she respected more than loved.

Her vision then blurred at once and she blinked rapidly trying to remove the disruption. When it cleared she thought she saw an elderly woman, tall and elegant, still beautiful even if her face was stern and unsmiling, dressed in a simple silver dress the same shade of her hair pulled in a bun at the base of her neck. The woman turned to her and he knew her at once. Those blue eyes, the color of the sea on a sunny summer day, she had seen again and again over the years, whenever a reflective surface happened to be in front of her. She saw no happiness in that woman, probably double her age. Was that who she would become? Stern, unfeeling, imposing, unbreakable? She did not feel like that. But maybe the future would mold her into it. She blinked rapidly again and noticed the look of concern on the Queen's features, now softened by kindness and maybe even some concern.

"Could we try to find a way of unity and peace, Your Grace?" she said and touched the Queen's clasped hands. "Of love, even," she added and she thought she saw a flicker of hope in the other woman's eyes. "Of late there seems to be so little of it in the Keep," she added and she knew at once she had misstepped again. She had basically blamed the queen for the distancing between her siblings. She had called the woman unloving. The Queen's eyes became cold and cutting once again and she pulled herself from Alaera proximity, turning her back to her.

"I hope I have made my will clear to you, Princess!" Alicent Hightower said coldly. "You may go!"

Alaera knew their conversation had come to an end but hoped for some small change in the Queen's heart. Not over her marriage to Aemond. No, she doubted Alicent Hightower would ever willingly give her beloved son to Rhaenyra's little sister for that is what she would always be to the queen. No matter that she had spent more time with Alicent's children than Alicent herself, at least in their younger years. But she dared to hope to have instilled some kind thoughts about their family, for they were all still a family, no matter how many real or just perceived insults her elder sister and their father's wife held against each other.

After leaving the Queen's chambers, Alaera went to see the King. Even given how strained their relationship had been over the years, the little girl inside her, mostly ignored by her father, not only before but even more so after her mother's death, still longed for his love and attention. Of course, adult Alaera understood, after seeing what type of father he had been to all of her younger siblings, that he was simply not well equipped for the role. And mostly, she recognized his incapacity to move on after his most difficult decision, that impossible one that had scarred both of them irredeemably. Still, in her times of uncertainty or sorrow, she looked to him for comfort or guidance.

"My...wild child," he said when she sat by his bed, his words mixed with a moan of pain. He was having a worse day than she had seen since her return home.

"Father, how can I help?" she asked, downhearted by his suffering, and took his only hand in hers. Beyond his failure as a father, she loved him and hurt to see him in such a state.

"Forgive me...." he said, as his eye was closing. Alaera feared he was too tired for a conversation, so she made a move to leave, but his hand weakly gripped hers. "I am here, father," she assured him and he opened his only eye to look at her.

"Time will soon come....It will be upon you, sweet child, to keep the peace...my Jaehaerys," he said with warmth mingled with pain and regret in his voice.

"That might prove to be a most difficult task, father.... given the path you have laid in front of us." His look of disbelief did not deter her in the least. "Don't look at me as if you do not know what I speak of, my King," she said, some leash inside her breaking. "You should not have married a girl of sixteen, daughter to your Hand and.... your chosen heir's best friend!" she said with more honesty and openness to her father than ever before.

"I should have named you Alysanne... you are just as outspoken to your King as she was to hers!" her father said, and she noticed the sliver of amusement in his otherwise raspy voice.

"No," she said and shook her head. "No other name would have fit me, father. I am Alaera Targaryen and no one else. I think it foolish to name a child after some forebear in hopes that they will grow up to resemble some long dead great-grandfather or aunt. I was lucky enough to have been allowed to be myself...."

"You took that for yourself, my wild child.... you owe that to... no one," he said with increasing difficulty and a barely felt squeeze of her hand. She saw pride in the way he looked at her and it warmed a place deep inside her where the feeling of loneliness that had plagued the child she had been still resided.

"Maybe to you, father, for being understanding..." she said with a thankful smile on her lips. He had allowed her more freedom than any other young girl of any rank could have dreamt of. It probably reflected irresponsibility on his part but she would not judge him for it for she had truly rebelled against every boundary set to her.

"I should have been.... more present in your life...." he said with increasing difficulty and she noticed him becoming more and more tired.

"Not just in mine...." she whispered. "Your indifference has created monsters..." she said to herself, not wanting to throw that accusation on a dying man.

"...but I fear now, my influence.... would not have made you better," he said without having heard her whispers, then his voice failed him. She helped him drink some of his tea and laid him back on his pillows. He squeezed her hand again and she understood he felt his impending death and had chosen this moment to open his heart to her. "Alaera, you carved yourself true to your inner fire and.... and you did it better than any other in our family.... maybe with the exception of my grandparents," he said but was interrupted by a bout of cough. "You are truly theirs.... more than you could ever be mine!" he said with more conviction than she thought her ailing father capable.

"I..." she started to say but knew not what to say. The lightest squeeze of his weak hand reassured her.

"I fear... your fight is just beginning, my dragon child," he said and she recognized the apology behind his words. "But I believe.... you will be the one to only resolve to violence when absolutely necessary.... and find the best way to peace," he continued, more and more strained, but the power in his stare told her this mattered to him, that these words were his last plea to her. But above all else, that he was putting the mantle of conciliator on her shoulders. Now, when she was contemplating throwing all responsibility out the window.

"Ooooh, if only.... If you had been a son... I would have long left this world to join your mother..." he said, his eye closed, his hand letting go of hers. Tears streamed down her cheeks and anger burned hot inside. She knew the truth of his words. She would have been a strong king. But she was strong nevertheless, even if sitting the Iron Throne was not meant for her. All she was ever told was that she was a woman and men were the ones born to rule. But a powerful feeling emerged from deep inside her, from some hidden place that she had ignored all her life. As if from a memory of the future not yet lived, Alaera Targaryen knew at once that she would not sit the throne simply because she did not truly wish it, but she would rule nonetheless. No matter what the future had in store for her, she would be there to carry the weight of ruling because out of all her siblings, none was as fit for it as she was.

When the maesters came to check up on the King, Alaera left his chamber in a daze. She never thought herself a dragon dreamer, but still, when faced with big challenges, slivers of a possible future revealed themselves to her. In those rare moments she felt as if those variants were right in front of her stretched fingers, almost ready for her to grasp, as though only by stepping back and refusing them would they fail to come true. That was how she felt in that moment: as dark and violent as the future seemed to her, she would have to use all her intelligence, political savvy, cunning, perseverance and power to reach the other side of the storm and bring some semblance of peace.

She found herself sitting under the weirwood tree, watching the sunshine streaming through the red leaves of the tree. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her skin, the shadows forming behind her lowered eyelids, until the light of the falling dusk dimmed and no longer warmed her. She felt the loss as acutely as if it had been an unnecessary but still beloved limb, a part of herself that she did not need but regretted losing, a coldness enveloping her soul even more than her body.

"Alaera," she heard a voice, but it seemed to come from somewhere so far away that she didn't even pay attention to it until a dark shadow covered the meager remains of the sun and a gentle hand touched hers. Only then did she open her eyes and saw him standing in front of her, a look of deep affection softening his otherwise sharp features. "Will you allow me to accompany you to dinner?" he asked and offered her his hand. She smiled and accepted it, a tingling sense of pleasure and comfort extending to her body from the fingers that touched his.

They walked hand in hand to the family dinning room where the queen and Halaena already sat waiting for the rest of their small circle. They sat next to each other and an agreeable feeling seemed to fill the room. Alaera noticed a few criticizing looks thrown by the queen in her direction but she chose to ignore them and simply enjoyed the intimate family dinner. Aegon also joined, a somewhat rare occurrence, but he was in a reasonably good mood, so that time passed pleasantly. By the end of the evening he was already deep in his cups and Halaena seemed more and more distanced from them all, as if some discomfort was waiting under the surface ready to take over depending on her husband's mood. Once again, Alaera felt a surge of anger at the thought of her sensitive sister being bound to the man her sweet Aegon had grown into. Before getting into an argument about things long decided by others, she bid them all a good night and left the room, ignoring Aemond's questioning looks but also the inquisitive ones of not only Alicent but also Aegon.

Later, after she thought them all gone to their beds, did she make her way to Aemond's room. After only one soft knock, he opened the door and made way for her to enter. "I thought you might have..." he said after closing the door behind her.

"Tomorrow, at dawn, on the hill next to the Dragonpit," she said and extended toward him a big satchel she had brought with her.

"What is this? What have you planned?" he asked, coming closer to her and she could not stop the warmth spreading through her at his simple approach.

"We are Targaryens, so, if we should happen to find ourselves tomorrow still wanting to be united, a Valyrian ceremony will be performed," she said as detached as possible. A small part of her still hoped he might change his mind. Sure, it would hurt, but she knew deep down, their chances at a long lived, happy marriage were inexistent. "You will find all the needed garments in that satchel, cleaned and pressed," she said, in a purely informative tone and turned to leave.

"No septon?" he asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward his warm presence. He wasn't much taller than she was, but his presence was still imposing.

"Later, when father publicly proposes it again," she said and turned to go.

"Alaera, that is not what..." he started to say, clearly containing his disappointment.

"It is more than I ever thought I'd do with a man, Aemond," she said sharply. "ANY man!"

"Except the one you did marry," he intervened, with an eyebrow raised.

"A dying man, a purely tactical decision to get your mother's court off my back!" she argued. "I wanted to choose how to live my life and not let others do it for me!" she argued and the look of shame on his face told her he understood. "So yes, I married a man I knew would soon die. It was my way of winning a game governed by rules set against me!"

"I know..." he started, abashed.

"I do not believe in the Seven. They stood and watched me beg for my mother's life but still took her from me," she said, sadness and pain infiltrating her voice. He came closer to her, arms stretched to take her in his arms, but she showed him her palm in a clear sign to stop. She longed for the comfort and warmth he obviously wanted to give her, but wanted to first make her point. She had had time to think of marriage, she had loved and lost, had lived so much more than him. He had to understand the weight of this decision.

"I am a Targaryen. If we bind ourselves in a Valyrian ceremony, that is a true marriage to me. That would mean forever to me. I do not take this commitment lightly, Aemond. Nor will I step back at any point, as long as we remain true to each other."

"Nor will I," he said self assuredly. A feeling of doubt nagged at the back of her mind, in a deep recess where her most untrusting side lived.

For long moments they simply stared at each other, so much remaining unsaid. Was it real, she wondered. Or just the result of sibling affection, need for attention, longing for the better times of their younger years, when the insults of others, when politics and intrigue had not yet touched them. Was it just the both of them deeply wanting a true and profound connection not yet found anywhere else? She hated this doubt, this uncertainty when just hours ago she had thought their union her most intense desire.

"Think of all that can go wrong, Aemond," she said and his eye narrowed slightly in response. "Only come if you are willing to defy anyone and everyone for our marriage," she added, then turned and left his room. She stopped in the hallway, hand still on the doorknob and rested her forehead on the door to his room.

"Sister!" she heard a voice with a streak of malice in it and she turned her head to find Aegon a few feet from her. "Visiting Aemond's room?" he asked and came closer to her. "And at this late hour?" he continued with an overplayed reaction of shock, his hands covering his mouth opened in an expression of utter shock. "What will the people say?" he said, in a theatrical tone of surprise.

"Why would they care?" she asked with nonchalance.

"Well, you are much older than him.... Are you trying to corrupt our little brother, sister?" he asked, taking a few steps around her and she noticed a slight uncertainty in his steps. Was he drunk? Already? Still? Who knew, with Aegon?

"More than you already did, Aegon?" she asked and crossed her arms in a stance of annoyance, but continued to follow his movements. A drunk Aegon was an unreliable Aegon.

He stopped in front of her and touched his chest as if she had hurt his feelings, his mouth once again opened in an O. "Is that jealousy, Alaera? Would you have wanted to be his first? How unthoughtful of me to teach our brother the ways of women when you seem so ready to!"

His cruel laugh snapped some inner strand inside of her and all that her sharp tongue was ready to throw his way disappeared into oblivion. She felt her face change its setting and a painful warmth filled her senses. She started toward him and noticed the surprise on his face when she stopped in front of him and took his face in her hands. They were similar in height so their eyes were on the same level. His expression was first of surprise, then it turned to a questioning one.

"What happened to you, Aegon?" she asked softly, a pain she had not felt before sending pinpricks to her eyes where tears threatened to make their way out of her. "What happened? How did my sweet little brother turn to...this? Mean, cruel, uncaring..." When tears spilled out of her eyes, she noticed him mirroring her, a pained expression now settling on his features. "Tell me! What happened to him....How did that little boy turn into...you? I want my brother back!" she said, now angry. He tried to pull himself free of her hands, but failed to put much strength in the movement, but then left his hands covering hers.

"What do you..." he started to mumble, but she couldn't stop. A dam had broken and she did not have the power to rebuild it. She never let go of his eyes, never allowed him to look away from hers. He needed to feel this, to feel her pain. She wanted him to know how much it had hurt her to see him grow so different from the boy she had loved so much, to see him completely lose the kindness and innocence of his childhood.

"Don't you understand, Aegon? How much you meant to me? You were my hope, my one and only hope for a true family! Father, Rhaenyra, they had no time or patience for me after my mother died. They ignored me and my pain, but then you were born....You! You were the sibling I wanted to love and cherish as I had not been by them. You were supposed to fill the void in my soul. You and I, we were meant to heal the rift in this family, to stop the ambition and resentment of others from tearing us apart. It was supposed to be you and me, Aegon! You and me."

She felt the tears fall freely on her face, but the breaking inside was something she had not allowed herself to dwell on until that very moment. She closed the small distance left between them and embraced him with more force than she had ever done before, as if she were hanging to him for dear life. Alaera felt him bury his face in the crook of her neck and then, to her surprise, his tears wetting her skin. There was desperation in both of them, a need for some long forgotten connection to resurge and mend all that had been broken in their relationship, to fill the space she had left empty when she had left them to go looking for naive hopes and empty dreams, to repair all that he had destroyed with his carelessness and eventually depravity, which she had witnessed, even if in small doses.

"You left," she heard him whisper against the skin of her neck. His arms still held on to her and she stiffened at his words. "You left me," he said again, more honesty in his tone than she remembered hearing from him in...forever. She drew herself a little away and took his face again in her hands, forcing his eyes to hers.

"You were born because of ambition, Aegon," she said and paused, as he creased his forehead in disbelief. "In a way, so was I. A king needed a male heir. And what a disappointment I was!" she said, laughing bitterly, tears still in her eyes.

"Then what was I?" he asked, looking downwards.

"A sweet boy. My beloved little brother. Before Helaena and Aemond and long before Daeron, you were mine. My one family," she said and kissed his cheek. "But for others, we are just instruments for their ambitions, Aegon. That same unending ambition will probably be our downfall. I recognised it early on. The hunger for power. I knew I had to stop it from tearing us all apart. I did my best, obviously not enough, to prevent father's untimely death. I thought...as long as he lived, we would be a family. That's why I left. All I ever wanted was to have a family, a true one, a loving one."

"I want that for you, Alaera," he said, at once animated with what brotherly affection remained of the strong love they shared as children. "For us! I want to give that to you," he said and she saw shimmering in his eyes again.

"That time is soon approaching, Aegon. You will soon have the opportunity to give us all a family, a strong and united one. A loving one," she said and, beyond the wine still clouding his eyes, she thought she saw her loving little brother of four who would follow her everywhere, with whom she'd spend most of her days outside of her lessons.

"I love you, Aegon," she said and felt a lonely tear streak her face as she was kissing his forehead. She did not tell him that what she loved was the memory of him and not the man he had grown to be.

For the rest of her life, Alaera Tragaryen remembered that last moment of closeness she had shared with her first born brother, with the one sibling she had cherished the most when she was a child herself, the first person she had been allowed to shower with all her love, the one who had never rejected her in the hardest times of her childhood.

Chapter Text

Sleep evaded Alaera Targaryen on the night before her Valyrian wedding to Aemond Targaryen. As deep as her feelings for him were, she could not stop the seeds of doubt from sprouting in her mind. She was not tired enough for sleep to overcome her hyperactive mind so she took to walking the Keep and then its secret passages. After all, she had used them constantly in her youth, when she had been denied from attending her father's Council meetings.

Even before she had left for the Citadel in her fourteenth summer, she had wanted to better understand the politics of the Kingdoms and the machinations taking place behind closed doors. Recognizing that those would forever be barred to the untamable second daughter of the king, she resorted to getting the wanted information by spying. There was, after all, no malice or ill intent behind her curiosity, simply interest and search for knowledge.

But on that fateful night her steps took her close to a meeting of the Small Council, one that was secret enough to be held after the hour of the wolf and several good hours before sunrise.

“Are we certain then, that the Sea Snake is dying?” Tyland Lannister asked.

“All missives seem to indicate it so,” Otto Hightower, King Viserys' Hand and the queen's father answered.

“It is the perfect opportunity for Vaemond Velaryon to petition for the right to follow his brother, should he die, on the seat of Driftmark,” Jasper Wylde interceded.

“But didn't the Sea Snake already name the boy, Lucerys, as his heir?” inquired Lannister.

“Not formally,” answered the Hand.

“Then it is settled!” Tyland said decisively. “Vaemond Velaryon will arrive in time to present his petition on the morrow and, by the will of the King's Hand, be given right to Driftmark, therefore putting a deep shadow over the legitimacy of the Princess' sons,” he said boastfully.

Alaera was unable to sleep afterwards. She sent not one but three ravens to Dragonstone, ensuring that the news would reach her sister no matter what.

When she made her way to the cliff next to the Dragonpit a couple of hours later, only one thought occupied her mind: did the queen know of her father's plan? Did her sons know? She saw no indication of it in Aemond, but then again he wasn't the most forthcoming man. Aegon had seemed pliant to her spontaneous plea last night, with no hint of him being involved in a plan to diminish their older sister's claim to the Iron Throne. For, in the end, it all revolved around who would next occupy the throne after King's impending death.

She now doubted the decision to marry Aemond even further. Who knew what other plans the secret council had already set for the unfortunate moment when her father would join her mother in the afterworld? At once she hated her decision to leave King's Landing and gallivant around the world for so many years, putting not only her life but also Rhexor's in danger, and for naught. Damn her youthful belief in herself and in the world, thinking it ready to offer a stupid girl the knowledge so many maesters had not managed to acquire over centuries. Not once did she stop along the way and listened more than watched the waves hit the cliffs below, wondering about what if's and also about the way forward.

To no surprise, she arrived last at the meeting place. A look at Aemond and she knew he recognised the doubt on her face. “Ao māzigon (you came),” he said simply, giving her the opportunity to say whatever was on her mind.

“Kessa (yes),” she said. She studied his features in the growing light of the still unseen sun and wondered if she was making but another mistake. She had trusted herself and her judgment all her life, but they seemed to her now to have failed her. Would this one purely emotional decision prove to also be a mistaken one? No answer came, but her hand longed to take his extended one. He waited long moments with no sign of impatience, but with a look of love and longing. Whatever else the world had in store for them, she trusted that much, his love for her. When she took his hand, a feeling of calm enveloped her at once, all traces of uncertainty and doubt washing away with the sound of the waves beneath them.

They listened to the ceremonial phrases, they said the required words, they tasted each other's blood and were therefore bound to one another in the Valyrian way of their ancestors. The smile on his reddened lips sent tendrils of warmth through her, ones that gathered not in her core, but in her chest. Their hands fit together so much so that even his calluses seemed to intertwine with hers. Not that she had as many as before. The hold of his hand was strong, but it did nothing to restrain her. She felt free to disconnect at any moment, but did not want to. Ever again, if possible.

They thanked the dragon keepers for the ceremony, left them the ceremonial robes and headwear, then walked hand in hand back to the Keep, smiling all the time, exchanging almost no words.

Alaera felt right. Not whole or changed in any way. She simply felt like this union had always been there, waiting for her to see the righteousness in it, the fit between the two of them. For they had always had similar interests, the differences rising more from the inequality of their sexes than from an imbalance in disposition.

They strived to act the same as always, go about their day as if it was just another normal day. They entered the Keep and followed the corridors that lead to the family's rooms. As they passed Helaena's, their sister was coming their way. She stopped as if struck by lightning staring at them both, then exploded in a big smile and ran to them. In an uncharacteristic effusion of physical affection she embraced and kissed them both.

“I'm so happy for you, brother!” she said to Aemond planting a kiss on his cheek, then turned to Alaera. “I knew you'd see reason eventually!” and kissed her too. They were both so stunned by Helaena's exuding warmth, that by the time they came to, she was already gone.

They decided to go sparring to take some of the edge off after that morning's event. They separated to get changed for it and convened to meet in the training yard. On her way there, Alaera heard the news of Rhaenyra's arrival so she detoured to receive her older sister.

By the time she reached the front gate, her sister's brood was already there and only Lord Caswell was present to receive them. She rushed over and jumped to embrace her sister with all the excitement gathered in three years. Her extremely recent almost-wedding might have also made Alaera more inclined to openly express her joy.

“Rhaenyra, you've finally come!” Alaera let go and examined her stunned older sister with a critical eye. “You look good, sister! Motherhood suits you well!” she concluded and smiled widely. “Uncle,” she said curtly and looked shortly at her sister's husband, Daemon Targaryen himself.

“Would suit you too, Alaera, if only you'd…” Rhaenyra started on her tone of concern.

“Yes, yes, “ Alaera said dismissively, interrupting her older sister who then rolled her eyes. “I see the baby grows nicely. Big brothers, what do we think?” she asked her sister's boys, all gathered around after descending out of the carriages that had brought them all here from the docks. “Jace, Luke, what do you say, are we finally getting a little girl?” she asked as she was hugging her sister's older boys.

“Aunt Alaera!” they both said, smiling glady. She always regaled them with pretty wild tales of her travels and never shied away from clashing swords with them either, so it was safe to say she was their favorite. On the rare occasions she was actually there, that is. Alaera loved her sister's children, both her sisters' children, even though she had no wish to have her own, ever.

“Jace, don't grow so fast! You'll soon tower over me!” she said, ruffling his hair.

“Aunt!” he protested, pulling himself away from her.

“Joff, where are you? Come give me a hug, you little rascal!” she said and the boy made his way from the back where he had been holding Rhaena's hand. He was much shier than his older brothers, but Alaera loved his softness. She hoped it would never be completely snuffed. He threw himself in her arms and held her tightly. He too loved her stories and the presents she made a point to never forget to bring. After all, Dragonstone was no big port and there wasn't all that much entertainment there for the younger children of the Princess who were not even allowed to play with the children of the villagers.

“Rhaena, you've grown so beautiful,” she said, kissing the cheek of her younger cousin.

“You are too kind, Princess Alaera,” the young girl said and bowed slightly.

“Leave the Princess part, cousin. We are family!” she said and hugged the shy girl. “And how I've missed those chubby cheeks!” Alaera exclaimed when she reached the back of the group where little Aegon and the youngest, Viserys, were held by their nurses. She kissed them both and didn't stop until they started laughing at her which in turn made her even more joyous.

The group then started to move to enter the Keep. Only after her sister's children were several paces away did Alaera turn to Daemon and pinned him with her cold blue stare. “Uncle, are you the reason my sister does not answer my ravens?” she asked, suspicion clear in her slightly hushed tone.

“Alaera!” Rhaenyra exclaimed. “What ravens?”

“The ones I've been sending to Dragonstone every three or four days since I've arrived here, three fortnights ago,” she said and saw her elder sister's eyes widen a bit in reaction to her words, then throw a quick glance to her husband.

“I received some, I think,” Rhaenyra said, her voice somewhat uncertain.

“I've written it's imperious you come as soon as possible, that father is in a bad state. That you should say good-bye, as long as it's still possible,” she said quietly, after pulling her sister slightly to the side, so that others would not hear. “You should not leave King's Landing, sister,” she added just for her ears.

“Rhaenyra is with child, she needs her rest. I've done my best to shield her from dark omens…” Daemon said, his tone derisive.

“Shield her from reality too, do you?” Alaera cut him off. “I would not have insisted, were it not bad, Rhaenyra,” she said, laying her hand on her sister's. “My ravens yesterday, did you at least get those, about Vaemond's request?” she asked.

“Yes…” her sister started.

“My daughter Baela had already written about Vaemond's foolish petition,” he said proudly.

“Oh, good, at least the missives of others do actually reach their destination!” Alaera said, forcing an ironic laugh. “But let's not dwell on such insignificant matters in front of the Keep's door. You should rest, sister,” she said and motioned for the group to proceed without her.

When Daemon started to walk past her, Alaera grabbed his forearm and stopped him. “I am truly glad you only put the sword in my hands and nothing else, uncle!” she whispered for only his ears.

He chuckled still looking ahead to where his wife was looking for him, then turned his face to Alaera and said, “You still haven't figured out why, did you, dear Alaera? And I thought you were the smart one!”

Alaera felt her eyes widen, then noticed her head spinning. Could it actually be that Daemon was implying what she thought he was implying? No. He wouldn't dare. Not even him, the Rogue Prince, would dare suggest the kind of treason she was thinking about. She must have heard wrong. She must be thinking of madness when he was probably just playing with her mind. But why? What could he have to gain?

Her vision blurred to the present and several memories filled her mind: Daemon bringing her the carving of a dragon when she had been but a small child, Daemon smiling at her, Daemon teaching her High Valyrian, Daemon hugging her after her mother had died, Daemon sitting next to her in the gardens, trying to talk to her several times those three years she had not uttered a word, Daemon watching her learn the bow, Daemon finding her alone in the training court swinging a stick at the exercise dummy when there was no one there, Daemon picking up another stick and giving her lessons. Daemon telling her stories of the riderless dragons of Dragonstone while she quietly listened. Daemon taking her to Dragonstone when she was nine, showing her the caves on the Dragonmount. Damon's approving smile and obvious pride when she flew back to King's Landing on Rexhor's back.

Alaera felt her blood turn to ice and anger start to boil inside her at the same time. She tried to steady herself and curled her right fist until her nails bit deep into her palm, while her left hand closed even tighter round his forearm. She didn't even notice her fist making contact with his chin or the pain shooting through her arm until Rhaenyra's voice sounded in her head. “Alaera! How dare you?”

“Leave her be, dearest,” Daemon said, rubbing his chin. “It's my fault, I taught her how to throw a punch, she's just a good student,” he said, carefully guiding his wife toward the Keep all the while watching Alaera standing but two feet in front of him.

“Trying to manipulate me like you did my sister will not work,” she said in a soft voice so she could not be heard by the people glaring their way. A princess punching her uncle was a juicy piece of news that would soon circulate the entire Keep. Not that Alaera cared. They called her the Wild Dragon behind her back, maybe it was time to actually act like it. She turned her attention to him again. “Even should it be true, I am sure my mother would not have wanted it known. If it is but a lie, then you besmirch the reputation of a dead woman who cannot defend herself. Whatever the truth, I care not. And I hate you for saying it. The only question is, why tell me that now? What do you have to gain from it?” Alaera said, watching his every reaction.

“Maybe I am simply trying to give you some perspective, dear Alaera,” he said. “Good punch, by the way. Could be improved, but good, nonetheless!” he said, rubbing his chin, still amused. She noticed a trace of pride in his voice but chose to ignore it. She would not be his creature.

She huffed a non-amused laugh, then came closer to him. She stood straight so that their eyes were almost on the same level. “Pray, uncle, that your life never depends on me!” she said, then turned and left. She barely saw around her, almost ran into several people, but she got to the training yard just as Aemond was sparring against Criston Cole and his beloved morningstar. She had to admit Aemond won with more elegance than she had thought him capable of.

“Well done, my Prince,” Ser Cole said. “You'll be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I don't give a shit about tourneys,” Aemond replied and Alaera noticed his stare and followed it to her sister's elder boys. “Nephews, have you come to train?” Aemond asked mischievously.

Whatever the boys would have replied was interrupted by the guards shouting “Open the gate!” Vaemond Velaryon entered the yard with his men carrying the Velaryon banner, the white seahorse on the blue-green of the sea. Alaera noticed the look on young Lucerys' face and inwardly cursed Harwin Strong' good looks as well as Rhaenyra's naive search for short-lived happiness.

Alaera decided she had acquired quite a lot of anger and was in need of an outlet for it. “Come, brother,” she said walking in the circle of onlookers that had surrounded the previous display of arms. “How about you spar with someone who's not afraid to kick your ass?” she challenged him, picking one of the training swords and swinging it around. Not nearly as well balanced as her own and somewhat heavy, but it would do. “Watch and learn!” she said and winked at her nephews before turning to Aemond. “Don't hold back, little brother!”

It was not the first time they had clashed swords, but they danced around one another with more energy and lust for life than ever before, turning their sparring in a display not only of swordsmanship but also of knowledge of the opponent's strengths and weaknesses. When they finally stopped their duel and acceded to equality, breaths burning in their chests, muscles aching all over, silver hair in disarray, there was probably no one around them who was not in awe. Some even turned their eyes away, sensing the charge in the air around the two Targaryens not able to take their eyes from each other, the world with its people around them forgotten. For both Aemond and Alaera knew the intensity of their sparring today was nothing but a mating dance, a promise of similar battle of wills but in chasing each other's highs later that night.

They did not rush to their rooms, but walked side by side, not touching, their secret their own and all the more cherished because no one was the wiser. They threw furtive glances at each other every once in a while, but then smiled and took their eyes away as if afraid of being caught. Alaera felt her heart pouncing hard as if ready to spring out of her chest. She had done it. She had followed her heart even when her mind screamed at her to look around, to see the storm brewing, to search for ways of dismantling it. But no, that hidden emotional side of her yearned for him, to connect and intertwine both her body and soul with the one that had waited patiently for her to come back to him, to notice him, to love him.

They reached the door to her room and their excitement was palpable. She opened the door and stepped inside backwards, slowly, never breaking their eye contact. Aemond mirrored her movements and took a few steps backwards, back straight, hands clasped behind his back, his entire posture rigid, as if he was holding himself back. They stood like that, stone statues, breathing deeply, eyes drinking each other in, not wanting to ruin the magic crackling between them. Who knows how long they would have stood like that were it not for the servant girl exiting Aemond's room a few doors down from Alaera's.

“I drew your bath, my Prince,” she said when she saw him, then curtsied and left in the other direction.

Alaera simply nodded and ever so slowly shut her door, eyes still glued to his. She leaned on the door and tried to sooth the whirlwind inside her. She knew tomorrow might be the beginning of the end but could not convince herself to concentrate on that, on finding solutions she knew already were nowhere to be found. The mess her sister was in was most definitely her own doing and nothing Alaera might do would solve Rhaenyra's troubles. So she would live for herself today and face tomorrow's storm when it hit. The soft knock that came from a far wall snapped her out of her thoughts.

She cranked the hidden mechanism behind the immense wall carpet depicting Aegon and his sister-wives riding their dragons in the Conquest and stepped aside allowing Aemond to enter. He did slowly, shut the hidden door and stopped in front of her, just a couple of feet separating their bodies, his lavendel stare on her eyes, never leaving them, never faltering. Just like him. Intense. Controlled. Reliable. Immovable.

She couldn't say which of them made the first move, but the thrumming between their bodies became unbearable and they at once covered the distance and slammed against each other, their lips crashed together, no limb left unmoving: her arms on his shoulders, his around her waist, one of her hands in his hair, one of his in hers, guiding her head to better fit their mouths in their dance, then down on her back caressing her, then she felt herself being lifted in his arms and her legs simply left the floor of their own accord and clasped themselves around his narrow hips, her backside sustained by his strong arms. They were moving and she knew exactly where to. He stopped by her bed and let go of her. She snapped her eyes open when his lips left hers. She knew exactly what he meant. He was once again giving her time to decide, asking for permission for more.

“Yes,” she said softly, barely a whisper between their lips, separated now by only two inches of heated air.

“How?” he asked, with no pressure or expectation in his voice.

“All the way,” she answered, surprising even herself. She had planned to hold back for a while, avoiding a child at an uncertain time like this.

“But…” he started, concern obvious in his tone.

“I'll take care of it,” she said, her eyes falling to her hands, nervously clenching at her side. There was a morality issue for her there, but one that she had not voiced with him. As life was sacred to her, she hated to interrupt one, but preventing it was something she understood to be necessary under certain conditions. Life was so much more than black or white, than either following religious norms or being a heathen. Life was to Alaera everything in between. No, she had never wanted a child of her own, but she still could not imagine herself stilling one that already grew inside her. Should it ever happen.

“But you said there was no certain way…” he said, taking her hands in his, caressing them.

“There isn't. If fate beats me and my knowledge, then so be it,” she said and shrugged, a small smile on her lips. He looked at her appraisingly for long moments, then brought her hands to his lips and his forehead to hers, in thankful acceptance of her decision.

A loud knock on the door made them jump a few steps away, breaking their closeness. “Princess, excuse me,” her handmaiden's voice came through.

“Yes, Tora?” she asked, a bit of irritation coming through her words.

“Princess Rhaenyra requires your presence in her chambers,” Tora answered. Alaera could not refrain from rolling her eyes.

“Of course she does,” mumbled Aemond, none the happier. He came closer to her and pulled her gently to him, then kissed her forehead. “Go. See to your sister,” he said and trailed a few soft kisses down next to her eye, then on her cheek and the last one on the corner of her mouth.

“Tell her I'll be right there, Tora,” she said loud enough to be heard outside the door.

“Yes, milady,” the young woman answered and most probably left to convey the message.

“I'll go take my bath,” Aemond said with a small smirk. “Hopefully, it's cold by now…” he said and winked at Alaera.

As he was exiting her room through the secret door, Alaera realized something. “Aemond!” she said and he stopped, turning to her questioningly. “Rhaenyra is our sister, not just mine!” she said with conviction.

“Hmmm,” was all he said noncommittally as he left without another word. Alaera knew right then and there that not even a sliver of his love for her could ever transfer onto Rhaenyra. She would forever have to be a buffer between them.

Once again with worried thoughts in her mind, she made her way to her sister's chambers.

“Alaera!” Rhaenyra said, coming toward her, arms open to embrace her, but stopped just a few inches away, assessing Alaera's somewhat disheveled appearance. “You could have washed before coming,” she said critically, but with a smile of understanding on her still beautiful face.

Alaera could not stop herself from seeing their mother in Rhaenyra, couldn't detain her mind from remembering the same words coming from Aemma's lips. She blinked back the sudden tears pricking her eyes.

“What is it, little sister?” Rhaenyra asked concerned, one hand instinctively going to her round belly.

“I barely remember mother…. But you look and sound so much like her,” Alaera said, studying her elder sister's face.

Rhaenyra ignored Alaera's state and embraced her with more strength than the younger woman could remember in the rare occasions they had hugged. Alaera was taller than her sister, but felt her warm breath and then wet tears in the crook of her neck and, in turn, held Rhaenyra with just enough firmness not to constrict her growing baby.

“You have her sky blue eyes,” Alaera heard her sister say gently, then, after another few long moments, Rhaenyra let go and wiped her wet cheeks. “Three years, Alaera!” she said, changing subjects and tone to reprimand her younger sibling. “You stopped writing after the first year. No raven, no sign that you were still alive….”

“Did you send a search party?” Alaera said jokingly.

“Ever the joker, Alaera!” Rhaenyra chastised, but could not hide a small smile. “Daemon inquired with all his earlier contacts over the Narrow Sea. The Sea Snake also. You even missed the birth of Viserys! I could have died, for all you knew!” Rhaenyra said.

“I was there for little Aegon's birth. It was clear to me you had mastered the art by then,” Alaera said with a wink, turning to look around the room and noticed the sky outside darkening with the coming storm. “Not like I can predict when you next decide to add to your brood, Rhaenyra!” Alaera said. “Where is the aforementioned brood?”

“Exploring the Keep, I guess, The little ones were taking a nap after seeing father…. Oh, Alaera, he looks awful,” Rhaenyra said and sadness engulfed her.

“I know. I was shocked too when I arrived and first saw him. But he has better days… We talked every other day. I read to him. He is still himself, most of the time,” Alaera said. “But you cannot go, Rhaenyra!”

“What do you mean?” Rhaenyra asked, alerted.

“He is not long for this world,” Alaera said carefully. “You should spend some time with him, say your goodbye… Be here when he should leave us,” she added, trying to convene to her older sister just how soon they would become fatherless.

“Is there nothing else to do?” Rhaenyra asked, walking nervously around the room. “That's what you've been looking for, isn't it? Have you found nothing of worth? Something that might help him….” she pleaded, turning her amethyst eyes to Alaera's, searching for hope where there was none left.

“What I found, Rhaenyra….” Alaera started and dropped her eyes to her hands. She saw them burning, once again. Heard a loud roar, angry and bone chilling, she almost felt his protective presence behind her. She could not resist the impulse and turned, but he was not there. Would he ever be again? She thought he might have risen, but was it maybe just a trick of her desperate mind, to hope for a miracle, for her most horrible mistake to be erased, the debt forgiven? But those monsters would never let them be. He might never be with her again.

“What is it, Alaera?” She heard her sister coming next to her and realized she was probably acting crazy, looking behind her where only the room and its door into the Keep's corridor was, searching for something that wasn't there but in her mottled memories of horrors half-forgotten.

“Don't ever let the kids fly toward Valyria, Rhaenyra!” she said, grabbing her sister's hand in hers. “They should never go there! No one should!” she said and she felt as if one of her limbs was being pulled from her body. She saw the shock in her sister's eyes.

“You didn't, Alaera!” she said, eyes wide with horror. “Tell me you did not, you stupid fool!” she said, angrily. “You read the stories about Aerea Targaryen returning on Balerion and her…death. A thousand times, Alaera! You used to pester me about them, you followed me around the Keep asking if I thought them to be true or not,” she said and Alaera remembered her morbid fascination with those books when she had been about ten, with the depictions of Aerea's mangled body. She even remembered asking their father, Balerion's last rider, if he had seen some marks of the presumed wounds the ancient dragon had returned with carying Aerea, almost dead, on his back.

“I don't remember. I have some stray memories… more like those left after nightmares. Pieces of something horrible you do not know if it actually happened. I'm not sure…where I was. Or what took place there. But my body is…different. More resilient than before. No marks. Look, Rhaenyra, I have no scars,” she said, pulling at her clothes, baring her arms where so many signs of her active childhood had been. “You know how many scrapes and cuts I had as a child…even a few burns from when I tried to make mother tea when I was four. They're all gone,” she said. “And Rex….” she said and stumbled, unable to continue.

“Alaera, where is Rexhor? I haven't seen him since you left Dragonstone three years ago,” Rhaenyra asked, concern obvious in her voice. “He always came back to Dragonstone. How have you never put him in the pit, I do not understand…” she commented on her sister's odd custom of letting her dragon roam free when she did not need him. No one had understood how was it that Alaera never bound Rexhor, either in the Dragonpit or on Dragonstone, but allowed him his freedom and still always had him fly her whenever she wanted.

“I don't know….” Alaera murmured. “I fucked up, Rhaenyra…” Alaera dropped on a low footchair, bent forward in desolation, elbows on her knees, head bowed between her palms, unable to face her older sister. “I keep dreaming…of words. "Give us the blood of the dragon”, they said. I understood “blood of the dragon” to be me, my blood, my life even,” she said with sorrow dripping from her words. “How foolish…. our damned Targaryen self entitlement!” Alaera said, bitterness in her tone.

“What did you do, little sister?” Rhaenyra asked, stunned.

“I agreed,” Alaera whispered, unable to face her sister's stare. “I think they gave me something, a so-called cure that would only heal a recently sick man. Only afterwards did they tell me…they laughed at me. “Blood of the Dragon” meant Rexhor's blood, not mine. They played on my pride and fooled me into agreeing to trade the one creature who has stood by me all my life. The only one who chose me.”

Rhaenyra said nothing. She simply watched Alaera, one of her hands covering her mouth, astonishment written all over her.

“Why would you…?” started Rhaenyra after a long silence.

“For our family. To keep father alive. To preserve peace,” she said simply then burst into a bitter laugh. “I gave my true family for the family who ignored me when I needed them the most,” she said, her eyes staring into her sisters. She wanted Rhaenyra to say something, but even if she would, Alaera knew it would change nothing. She had chosen the life she had led and nobody's words would give it the meaning she felt now was missing. No words would change Rhaenyra into the sister she had needed as a child or the one she had strove to be to her younger siblings.

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, at a loss for words.

“Do not concern yourself, sister. I chose my way and I must now pay for all the mistakes I made while chasing delusions of peace and familial love!” she said, raising to her feet and turning toward the door. Rhaenyra stretched a hand to grab hers but Alaera was just out of her reach.

“Alaera….” Rhaenyra said, catching her younger sister and grabbing her hand. “Is he still alive, you think?”

“I think so,” she said, her eyes straying to the open window, feeling the wind starting to blow outside and remembering flying through both storms and blue skies on Rexhor's back. “I can…sometimes feel him,” she said and a stray tear fell on her cheek. She remembered his pain, his anguish and it tore her soul all over again. “Go to father, ask for his help, Rhaenyra,” Alaera said, changing the subject before she fell to the floor into a ball of pain and regrets right there. “The Small Council….is mostly green,” she added with conviction in a hushed but decisive tone.

“We saw him already and he barely recognised us, Alaera,” Rhaenyra said, accepting the change in subject. “He was in so much pain.”

“I've been trying to convey that in my letters, Rhaenyra, though it would have made little difference. Try to talk to him again. Sometimes he is better than other times,” she added then turned to the door.

“You know what awaits me on the morrow,” Rhaenyra said and Alaera turned to her, abstaining from saying what was on her tongue. That Rhaenyra had laid her own bed and must now lay in it. “Say what you will, no point in biting your tongue now, little sister,” she said reading Alaera's countenance.

“We all have to pay for our mistakes. Sooner or later the debt comes due,” she said, no accusation in her words, not after telling Rhaenyra about her own failings. Rhaenyra said nothing, wordlessly acknowledging their companionship in this too. She turned from Alaera and sat on a chair, looking out the open window to the dark clouds gathering. Alaera waited and was about to go when she heard her sister's faint voice, as if lost in her thoughts, talking only to herself.

“Do you ever wonder, sister, how would it all be if only one of us would have been born male?”

“I did ponder upon it once or twice,” Alaera admitted, coming closer to her elder sister. She leaned on the windowsill watching the skies outside dark with heavy clouds, a storm not so far away. “I do not know if we would have been a good match, Rhaenyra,” she said with a small smile. “Whichever one would have been a male, I somehow doubt ours would have been a happy union. Almost seven years between us, you a summer child, me a winter one. And you do like older men, sister,” she added trying to lighten the mood. She looked shortly at Rhaenyra and noticed her sister's lips slightly curling up, but only barely, then she turned back to the window and the gloom outside them.

“But our mother would be alive…” she said and Alaera knew this was truly what hurt her older sister. It had been the most painful memory of her entire life, also, to have seen and heard her mother dying under the knife of the maester in the hope of bringing forth a male heir for their father. A small tear fell on her cheek before she even noticed the pricking in her eyes.

“Probably not. They would have pushed for another and another… They forced father into a second marriage even when he had just named you his heir, all so as to secure the line!” she said with a callous laugh, turning from the window and sitting down on the floor facing her sister. “One son would have never been enough, Rhaenyra. Jaehaerys and Alysanne had fourteen children and it still came to the Grand Council. Most of their daughters died in childbirth. Mother was doomed from the very start. Even her mother before died birthing her, so maybe we don't stand much of a chance…”

“Is that why you evade motherhood with all your might, little sister?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice softening as she locked her amethyst eyes to her sister's blue ones.

“You've done well enough for both of us, Rhaenyra!” Alaera said in a cheery tone, as if to distract them both from thoughts of their long gone beloved mother. “But I can't say I haven't feared each and every birth of yours….” she added, the love for her elder sister evident not only in her words, but in her eyes too.

Not long afterwards her sister's children arrived, then Daemon with Baela and Alaera was invited to stay with them for dinner. She took much joy from their youthful exuberance even when it was somewhat tempered by the impending petition over the succession of Driftmark. She left their company not much later and was happy to find a warm bath prepared for her. But not even the pleasant water did manage to soothe her. The whirlwind in her mind was perfectly matched by the tempest outside her windows.

Her eyes closed, she heard him come in, his quiet steps stopping by the door between her bathing and sleeping chambers. He said nothing, just leaned against the doorframe, most probably not wanting to disturb her. Alaera decided to postpone tomorrow's worries and allow both of them one last night of ignorant peace.

She opened her eyes, looked at him and lost herself in the intensity of his stare. Alaera would have wanted to read his mind, to sift through his thoughts as if they were hers but she was truly afraid of what she would find. She might not have been there for the worst moments of his life, but he had in time imparted to her the brunt of it. She missed the young boy who, after some encouragement, told her of all his woes. But here was a closed off man who gave her his love, if not the truth of his convictions. Was it enough to build a future on? Who knew? Maybe some of those gods most people chose to put their lives in the hands of. Alaera Targaryen chose to carve her own way in life. She did it mostly based on cold logic and clear purpose, but all her rules were now overthrown by the loving look in Aemond's eye.

He must have understood her quiet invitation for he came toward the bathing sink and sat down next to it. Alaera turned to him, put her arms on the sill and perched her chin on her hands, but said nothing, simply relaxed enjoying their renewed closeness. Aemond sat just opposite her, arms crossed on his knees, simply staring at her as if there was nothing better for him to do.

“What do you want?” he asked sometime later.

“For the world outside my room to disappear,” she said jokingly.

“You'd regret it if it would,” he said knowingly and she was struck, once again, by how well he seemed to understand her.

“Then make me forget it,” she said, then stretched a hand and unbound the patch covering his empty eye socket. When she gently caressed his scarred face he leaned his cheek into her hand and closed his remaining eye. That simple gesture of trust and love swelled the warm feeling already in her chest. He covered her hand with his right one and brought her palm to his lips, his eye opening as he did that. Aemond kissed her palm with reverence and his eye never left hers. Alaera knew this moment, beyond others already gone or those about to happen, would stay with her, buried deep down in that place where love hid long after it was thought to be gone.

She pushed herself up just enough to cover those few inches still left between their faces and he met her lips with his soft ones. The kiss started soft but the intensity grew fast, their tongues exploring each other's mouth with insatiable hunger.

She broke the kiss, unwilling to prolong her own torture and stood from the bathtub. He was stunned by her sudden movement but his stare quickly changed from surprised to appreciation. He left no part of her wet body unseen and she felt heat overtake the chill everywhere he looked.

Aemond then looked around and found the towels already prepared, took one and started to dry her wet skin, slowly, each arm, her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, then went around the tub to continue with her back, leaving soft kisses everywhere he had just wiped. She had no idea that kisses down her spine could be so arousing. Neither her backside nor her thighs were spared but warmed under his touches. When he came back to face her he started again with her neck but made his way to her already peaked breasts. He licked each hard nipple, then suckled it while his fingers trailed the side of her breasts. Then he moved down to her ribs and on to her belly. As his lips made a slow trail down toward her thighs she felt herself drench anew in preparation for something he did not seem hasty to enact and was about to lose her equilibrium so she put one of her hands on his shoulder for stability. He turned his eye to her and the smile on lips told her he knew exactly what she wanted. He licked his lips suggestively, eye still glued to hers.

“Don't close your eyes, issa jorrāelagon (my love)!” he said, commanding right before his tongue licked her lower lips, both his hands sustaining her hips. She grabbed both his shoulders, uncertain how long her legs, still in the water, would sustain her. She watched as his tongue found its way between her folds to find that incredibly sensitive spot already throbbing to be met by his ministrations. The moan that escaped her told him everything he needed to know so that he increased the intensity of his mouth's movements until she started to tremble riding her high. He did not stop until he felt her quiet under his hands still strongly holding her hips. Only then did he stand up from his kneeling position and licked his lips, then took her face in his gentle hands but did not kiss her.

“I would spend the rest of my life on my knees in front of you, Alaera!” he said and watched her eyes for approval. He lowered his mouth to hers, capturing it with more passion than their earlier kiss. Only then did Alaera realize she was truly and completely lost in love with Aemond. She pulled him to her, pressed her breasts to his chest irritated by the shirt still covering his skin and the bathtub still separating their legs. She wanted everything and anything separating them gone, evaporated into nothingness if possible. He grabbed her underneath her buttocks and lifted her to him, mouths still exploring each other. She clenched her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her into the next room and only let go when he laid her on her bed. She cared not for her still wet feet or her soaking hair, all that mattered was that they were together, for at least this one night.

Alaera watched him removing his shirt and trousers with an unnerving calm she did not share. Was he making her wait on purpose? Was it some kind of revenge for her earlier rejections? She stood from the bed, no longer wanting to be so far away from him. Their mouths found each other again, both their lips already swollen but still so eager to be explored. She felt him hard against her lower abdomen and her hand trailed down, stroking until he moaned in her mouth. She then started to kiss his sharp jaw, then his neck which pulsed in the rhythm of his beating heart only to then lower her lips to his chest, giving each of his nipples its due. When she made a move to go further down toward his abdomen he put a finger under her chin and raised it to him.

“No,” he said when their eyes met. He then lowered his mouth to hers again, tasting her every corner with his tongue, all the while his arms enveloped her and brought both their bodies on her bed. She felt his weight crushing her into the mattress but mostly wondered to the perfection of feeling his hips nestled between her spread thighs. His warm breath descended with his lips to her neck, her collarbones, then he nipped the sides of her breasts. She arched her back to push against his exploring mouth when his lips captured her nipples once again. It all felt intoxicating, too good to have denied herself for weeks. She caressed his arms, his torso, his back all the while moving her pelvis to meet his even better, to invite him deeper. She sensed his hardness nudging at her entrance but he stopped his every move and raised his head above hers, his stare clear of the passions she was certain was clouding hers.

“Are you sure, Alaera?” he asked, his breath mingling with hers.

That question right there broke the last damn holding her back from him. Apparently nothing ignited her desire more than being asked for permission by the one she already lusted for. “Yes,” she said three heartbeats later. He still did not move so she allowed him his time as he had done for her many times before. Her body thrummed to take him inside but she stilled herself waiting for his decision. Their eyes never broke away when she felt him nudge her heated core and slowly sheath himself. Exquisite pleasure mixed with some pain because of the sudden stretch coursed freely through her when he advanced all the way, burying himself to the hilt. The sounds escaping them in unison mingled with their breaths into music to her ears. She delighted in his every moan, every grunt that paired with his thrusts, at first slow and torturous, then faster and deeper, to slow down once again afterward.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she heard his deep voice pleading and commanding at the same time, his body having stopped his movements inside her. “Don't leave me.” She opened her eyes and understood he wanted her eyes on his, that he needed every possible door open between them. She nodded and he intertwined the fingers of his right hand with her left ones, pushing them into the bed above her head. Only then did he start again his strokes in her drenching core, making her forget everything except the feel of him inside and around her. Alaera struggled to keep her eyes open when her breath intensified and she felt herself lose control of her body. “Where do you want me to…?” His voice brought her back from the brink of the precipice. “Inside…” she answered between moans. “Or wherever you want,” she added and he covered her mouth with his while his movements came stronger, pushing her over the edge into uncharted waves of pleasure. She felt him empty himself inside her, then slow down for a few more strokes, all the while his eye was still fixed to hers. She drowned in his intensity and knew she would never again feel as much love and desire as he gave her. He lowered his forehead to hers, breathing deeply the same air, eye at last closed. She caressed his cheek, never wanting to feel him part from her. Any contact seemed essential to her at that moment.

After long moments, he kissed her forehead and let himself fall on his left side on the bed, but pulled her with him, keeping her nestled to him, right arm around her, his right leg trapping hers. None said a word but so much passed between their eyes, never leaving each other. Smiles appeared and disappeared from their lips, soft kisses were passed, which sometimes deepened until breath became necessary, caresses were laid on both of their skins. They fell asleep entangled, none wanting to consciously let go.

They did not sleep much that night, slumbering in each other's arms after reaching a high only to awaken when one of them moved ever so slightly in the other's embrace. The slight rubbing of their skin reignited their desire to once again intertwine their bodies in another chase of each other's ecstasy.

Sunrise woke them up because none had thought to pull the heavy dark curtains the night before. Alaera sensed the warmth of the sun but rejoiced more in the feel of the warm body enveloping her, flush against her back, slowly stirring from sleep himself. Hot breath on her neck and her ear, then soft kisses trailing from her left cheek to her neck and her shoulder. She could not help herself but move even closer to him, when possible, only to meet his already stiff cock against her buttocks. His left hand found and started caressing her breast while her left hand went to stroke his hardness.

“You're killing me,” he whispered in her ear and lowered his long fingers from her breast to her already swelling bud, then lower even to her entrance. “Already wet for me….” he said, surprised and delighted by his discovery, plunging first one finger, then two in her core, in and out, coaxing faster and faster breaths from her. He stopped right before she climaxed and said, “Open your mouth,” then removed the fingers she had soaked and brought them just before her lips. He was perched on his right arm, eye already on hers, a rueful smile on his thin lips. She first licked his fingers without breaking eye contact, then took them fully in her mouth and closed her eyes, never stopping the strokes her left hand was giving his shaft. When his fingers were clean, she moaned softly, opened her eyes and asked, “Are you going to fuck me now?” “Hmmm,” was all he noncommittally said but he allowed her hand to guide his tip to her opening. She arched her back to better align herself to his cock and pushed against it, practically sucking him inside her soaked core. He steeled himself and allowed her to move against him, to take her pleasure as she wanted, to use him and his willing body to her own purpose. When she slowed down a bit, he took over and drove a rougher rhythm as he had already noticed she enjoyed after a softer start. His fingers found her enlarged nub and started circular moves around it, coaxing her pleasure and increasing moans. Just a few strong strokes later she constricted around him and that was all he needed to reach his own high.

A sudden knock on the door startled them both. “Did you lock the door last night?” he mouthed, almost without sound.

She raised her shoulders, uncertain. “I don't usually,” she whispered. Another knock, louder this time, and Alaera pushed Aemond out of the bed to the side which would not be seen from the door should someone come in. He was taken by surprise but still managed to catch the side of the mattress and to drop down without a big thud, then glared menacingly at Alaera's smiling face.

“Princess, I have brought you your breakfast,” Tora's voice came through and Alaera noticed her stomach growling and laughed.

“Did she ever…?” he started to mouth and looked briefly down her naked body.

“Tora knows I mostly sleep naked. But the state of the bed…that I do not normally manage,” she said quietly, then louder, “Leave it there, Tora. Thank you!”

“Yes, Princess,” the woman replied. They remained quiet until the sounds outside the door winded down. Aemond went to the door, checked it and found it to be truly not locked. He turned to Alaera and rolled his eye, then locked the door.

“A punishment might be in order,” he said softly as he came back toward her with slow steps, stopping at the edge of the bed. She crawled lazily to him, then stopped on her knees, in front of him.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked innocently. As he said nothing, she crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them upward and did not miss his eye slipping to them shortly. She tapped her lips with her second finger and said, thoughtfully, “I might have an idea….” His raised eyebrow indicated interest, not that she had doubted it. She raised herself level to him, placed a soft kiss on his lips, then lowered herself on her belly so that her face was right in front of his hips. She blew softly on his cock, then looked up at him and asked, “Would something like this do?” then took his still hard manhood in her hand and gave it a small kiss on the tip. “Or like this?” she said and took him in her mouth. His eye closed and head dropped back was all the answer she needed. She alternated licking and sucking, massaging his balls, pumping his shaft with her hand until she heard his breathing becoming shallow, then increased her rhythm until he started trembling, sign that he was about to come. At that precise moment she dropped his shaft from her hand and mouth, stood and left.

“What…?” he started asking as he watched her walk toward the bathing chamber.

She returned, brought her front flush against his back, kissed his back and reached a hand toward his stiff cock and gave it one more lazy stroke, not enough to make him come while whispering, “Never pull out while I'm coming!” She then turned and left again.

He followed her to the bathing chamber, slowly stroking himself. “You cruel, cruel woman,” he said, his eye watching her every expression.

She slowly came in front of him, a wicked smile on her lips which she then pressed to his. She started to kiss him, slowly, superficially, just a bit beyond chastly. His strokes increased and she looked down at his engorged cock. “Where do you want to come, Aemond?” she asked softly, a sign their battle of wills had ended.

“Just kiss me, I'll do the rest,” he said, his breathing becoming once again short and fast. So she did. He opened his mouth to hers and with their tongues entangled pumped himself to climax in her embrace. A few moments later, his breaths once again normal, he looked between them and saw his seed on her stomach.

“A waste, some would say,” she said and picked up a drop of it with a finger, then licked it, her eyes on his. “But not you,” he replied, then shook his head slightly, smiling. He took her in his arms, kissed her slowly and deeply, then said, “I love you. Forever. Let's get you clean,” he said and looked around the bathing chamber, noticing the used, cold bath. “I think mine will be fresh…if probably also cold,” he said. “I'll go look. Come in a few moments….” he added then turned from her to pick his clothes off the floor and leave when she grabbed his hand and stopped him. She came closer, embraced him and whispered in his ear, “I do love you too, Aemond!”, then kissed his scarred cheek softly and let him go, a true smile now touching not only his lips, but his eye too.

They cleaned themselves in the bathing chamber by his room where fresh water had already been prepared for him. “And before you ask, I did actually lock the door before you came, my beloved Alaera. I would not want us to be interrupted,” he added with a grin.

“Interrupted from what?” she asked, pretending not to understand his meaning while she scrubbed her naked body from the traces of their intense and repeated nightly….and morning activities.

“What a cruel women have the gods fated me to love,” he said under his breath.

“Then you won't be coming to my room later tonight?” she asked gingerly, wiping her body dry, not even looking his way. He came closer to her, took her in his embrace, nibbled on her ear and whispered, “You could come to mine,” and they both laughed just before their mouths met each other again.

They split to separately make their way through the day and Alaera Targaryen felt lonely once again. Not because it was new to her, but the night with Aemond, and the past fortnights too, had all made her feel less alone. Desired. Cherished. Loved even. She hated to miss that. Not that she thought Aemond's feelings for her might change after today, but because she knew everything else around them was bound to suffer terribly after this day's event.

Chapter Text

With the petitions about to start in the Throne Room, Alaera rushed the corridors when a servant informed her her father required her presence in his room. She huffed but went as instructed, to find her father awake and dressed, sitting in an armchair.

"Good morning, father," she said and kissed his left cheek, the one not covered by a golden mask. "Don't you look well today!" she said, a trace of wonder in her voice.

"Only to you, my wild child," he said and even his voice had a renewed vigor to it, which surprised and gladened her. "Say, have you been running today, Alaera? Your cheeks are quite flushed," her father noted, looking closely at her. She felt herself getting even warmer than she already felt.

"I was on my way to the Throne Room, father, for the petitions, when Lorin found me and told me of your summon," she explained. "So I rushed here," she added.

"Good," he said. "Bring me my crown," he said and looked around. "It's right there on the table," he showed her and she brought it.

"Here," she said and placed it on his mostly bald head.

"Thank you, child," he said and kissed her hand. "Now let us go hear these petitions!" he said and stunned Alaera. A knock on the door came. "Come, come," he said and four servants came to carry his armchair closer to the Throne Room. It was on another level of the Keep so there would have been no way for him to walk all the way there. Still, Alaera was astonished into quietness, never having expected her father to show such drive and strength again. "I might need your help ... .but hopefully I will manage. Stay next to me in case I need you though...." he said before the men lifted him.

As planned, he rose from the chair right before the great doors to the Throne Room were opened and his name was announced by one of the Cargylle twins. Alaera listened to the words and her skin pebbled in response. She knew it was the last time her father would be announced as King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

Alaera was pained and also impressed by her father's resolution to make the slow advance to the Iron Throne by himself, but she followed his steps, watching for any instability, ready to jump to his aid. She also watched the people gathered to witness her sister's demise on this day and their reaction to the sudden appearance of their king. The incredulous look on Vaemond Velaryon's face, the exchange with Otto Hightower, the mix of guilt and concern on the Queen's features, Rhaenys' astonishment traced with respect, Helaena's guarded cheerfulness at seeing their father walk on his own once more, Jace and Luke's relief, Rhaenyra's pained joy at seeing her father make this inhuman effort to come to her aid, Aemond's cold indifference, Daemon's honest worry for his ailing brother, Aegons's callous amusement at the following spectacle. Her family. Those she had given her youth for. Regret tasted bitter in her mouth.

"I will sit the throne today," her King told Otto Hightower and Alaera felt a pang of malice.

Her father stumbled a bit and one of the Cargylle brothers jumped to his aid, but the King refused. She stopped behind him, uncertain of his capacity to climb the steps to the Iron Throne, but Daemon came from Rhaenyra's side and offered his help. Alaera felt it was better to let the younger brother help his older brother and king than intervene. Her eyes fled to Rhaenyra who in turn looked from the two men to her and nodded slightly, maybe thinking Alaera had something to do with their father's presence there. She wanted to clarify that but it wasn't the right time. Truth was, she had not spent her night trying to help Rhaenyra's cause, but only her own. It had been her time of selfishness. The only question was, how soon would she pay for it? For Alaera Targaryen had never been given anything of worth for free.

"I must... admit... my confusion," he father struggled to say after sitting his throne for the first time in years. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys." Alaera was glad to see her aunt's opinion given weight in a matter, as she considered her to have been the stronger candidate to King Jaehaerys' succession more than thirty years before.

To everyone's surprise, Princess Rhaenys gracefully rallied to Rhaenyra's side, agreeing to the double betrothal of Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena. Rhaenyra seemed pleasantly surprised, which meant the offer had been shortly made, probably the day before, and no answer previously received. When Rhaenyra's eyes slipped over her, Alaera made the smallest gesture of approval with her head and her sister answered with the smallest smile.

Alaera did not fail to notice the smirk on Aegon's face and his bland look around the room. Unfounded mischief with no other purpose than to provoke a reaction, just a childish way of gaining attention.

"Well... the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." Alaera sensed her father's forced energy winding down and knew he would not go on for long.

"You break law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir," Vaemond Velaryon said, barely containing his anger at the most probably missed opportunity. Alaera rolled her eyes thinking the Sea Snake would probably survive and all this would have been for naught. "Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon," he continued, failing to accept the battle lost. "No. I will not allow it." Here he had made his mistake. Even a dying Targaryen is still a dragon ready to burn his enemy to ashes. Or at least that's what they had fashioned themselves to be.

"Allow it"? Her father asked, incredulous that someone would dare contest his regal decision. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

"That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine," Vaemond shouted in Luke's direction. Alaera's heart bled for the boy who obviously knew he was no true Velaryon even having been raised and loved by Laenor, Rhaenys' son.

"Go to your chambers!" Rhaenyra told her children, then to Vaemond, "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," the King intervened. Well, that was never in question, thought Alaera. "And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark." Ouch, she thought. Many are.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this..." He just would not go down. Not much in his head, Alaera mused. He was a Velaryon, nobody would take his name away, he could still father ten Velaryon children, if a woman...or several, agreed to it.

She heard Daemon's soft taunt to Vaemond, "Say it," and made a step forward trying to stop Velaryon from continuing.

"Her children... (shouts) are bastards!" he shouted before she reached him, so she let her extended arm fall back in front of her. She shook her head knowing what would follow. "And she... is... a whore."

Alaera saw the glee on Aegon's face and the small callous smile barely raising Aemond's mouth corners and dropped her head, closing her eyes. She heard the crowd gasp and her father's heavy breathing when he said, "I... will have your tongue for that!" From the corner of her eyes she saw Daemon move swiftly, Darksister already unsheathed in his hands and jumped to move between him and Vaemond but she was too late. Most of Velaryon's head was already separated from his neck.

"He can keep his tongue," said Daemon whipping his Valyrian steel sword on his coat and turned to go back to his previous place when his eyes met Alaera's and smiled a satisfied smirk just for her. She shook her head, hoping he understood what she thought about provoking and answering in violence.

Her father started groaning and everyone made a move to help him, the Queen called for the maesters, while Alaera turned and ran to the door beyond which a chair waited for their King. She went with him to his chamber but knew she was useless to him there. The maesters had never taken her "foolish ideas" into account over the years, so why would they now? Not that all the knowledge she had gathered could truly change something for her father. But maybe it might have ameliorated his suffering to some extent.

She walked the corridors lost in her thoughts, doing her best not to accidentally bump into anyone when she heard her name called. "Alaera, I was hoping you might come," Helaena said, and the words woke her up and only then did she notice Aemond coming from the other direction, following Aegon who was animatedly talking to him. He turned his handsome face to her and their eyes met briefly, both their mouths slightly open as if words were about to come out but were withheld for a later time. Alaera could not help herself and deeply inhaled his crisp smell, her mind already jumping to a moment when she had breathed it in while kissing his naked skin. Their hands touched briefly in passing and it sent a shiver up her arm jolting her awake from her reverie. She was truly doomed. Neither stopped but they both turned their heads to follow the other, unable to let go of even that fleeting connection. It was only interrupted when a servant walked in their line of sight and Alaera heard Helaena address her again. "I can't find Dayana and the children have to be changed for their nap."

Later, after leaving Helaena to get ready for the supper their father had sent word was to take place that evening, she stopped by the crypt where the Silent Sisters were preparing Vaemond Velaryon's body for burial. She had never liked the man, his excessive ambition having brought his sudden downfall. Alaera understood following one's dreams but not in the detriment of one's survival. She was not surprised to find Rhaenys Targaryen there, silently watching. Alaera said nothing, she found words to be cheap and even lacking in true meaning on such occasions, but stood for quite some time next to her aunt in quiet companionship.

Only when she turned to leave did she hear her father's cousin say, "Thank you." Alaera nodded and made to leave, but changed her mind and said, "I wish I would have been born in a world where succession was blind to gender, where you were Queen and my mother would not have been pressured into giving my father a son!" She left without seeing the glistening in Rhaenys' eyes.

When she at last reached her room, Alaera received a missive through one of the child pages. She knew him to be a good contact to Mysaria, the infamous White Worm. After finding out about her brother's proclivities, Alaera started to inquire after the fruits of his adventures and, in doing so, was put in touch with the most informed person in the city. They found to share an interest in improving living conditions for the less fortunate children living, or rather fighting for survival, in Flea Bottom and Alaera gladly donated in exchange for the information she looked for every time she was home. It had proven to be a most fortuitous collaboration as she had already bought the freedom of several children who strikingly resembled her eldest brother.

In making her preparations for later that night she postponed changing for the feast so that, of course, she would be late. She had looked for Aemond earlier but he had not been in his room. She met her father on the way to the dining room and followed behind him. Everyone was already there, the two groups that made up her family split on the two sides of the table. Her fathers chair was placed in the middle between the Queen to his right and Rhaenyra to his left, with each of them having her children on her side of the table. Alaera felt like rolling her eyes, but abstained. With difficulty.

"Oh, my! I'm apparently a bit late..." Alaera said. "Father, my Queen, I do sincerely apologize! I just couldn't find anything suitable to wear!" she said abashedly, shortly looking down at her red dress, then with a warm smile on her face at her family already seated around the table.

"You look absolutely beautiful, my dear," the King said in a warm voice, if a bit raspy. "Red suits you... very well," he added with a smile.

"Thank you, Father," she said and made a small curtsy. "I do remember a time when both my sister Rhaenyra and the Queen wore it a lot," she added, smiling at the two women she had named. "It is my way of bringing an homage to both of them and their friendship of old.....You know, back when you used to completely ignore your little sister, Rhaenyra!" she added in an exaggeratedly reproaching tone of voice but with a smile and a wink to her older sister.

"Oh, Alaera," Rhaenyra said and warmly smiled at her younger sister.

Only Daemon laughed out loud, but most around the table swiftly looked at Princess Rhaenyra or at the Queen and, observing the relaxed faces of the two women, felt comfortable enough to also enjoy the moment and smile.

"Could I please have a chair?" Alaera said, still standing opposite the King. She looked around the table and evaluated the seating, purposefully ignoring the empty one between Aemond and Helaena. "I do think here, between my dear brother and my eldest nephew would be just perfect!" she said, laying her right hand on Jacaerys' shoulder and her left on Aegon's. "So that I can see you, father!" she added with a small smile full of warmth.

"No one has seen me... as much as you lately, my Jaehaerys!" the King said. "Sit next to Aemond... he looks absolutely forlorn," he added with a nod of his head to his right. She shifted her eyes to Aemond who shortly looked at the King and recognized some mutual understanding there. He then slowly sat up and pulled the chair next to him waiting for her to sit. Alaera noticed Rhaenyra's eyes becoming wider in surprise and shrugged her shoulders in answer.

Admitting defeat, Alaera still took a moment to bend and whisper in Aegon's ear, "Behave, little brother!" with a squeeze of his shoulder, then went to where Aemond waited for her, one hand on her chair, one behind his back, the image of sterness, face of stone but with a soft light in his eye she thought was just for her. "Thank you," she said as she sat.

"You look gorgeous," he whispered while sitting down to her left.

"I didn't know you liked red," she whispered back so that only he could hear.

"Green would suit you better," he whispered and she almost choked on her drink. "But honestly, I prefer you in leathers with your sword in hand trying to kick my ass in the training yard," he said for her ears only, not even looking her way, just slightly bent to his right where she sat.

She laughed out loud and many around the table looked at her, probably wondering what could make her laugh given that she sat between the mostly absent Helaena and the most rigid person there. "Careful what you wish for, little brother!" she said without even looking his way, then noticed his right hand finding hers left one under the table and starting to caress it with his thumb. She loved how her cold skin would start to warm under his touch.

Their father interrupted the improper thoughts starting to form in her head. "How good it is... to see you all tonight... together."

After that the Queen offered a prayer. "May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest." Aemond had let go of her to clasp his hands for his mother's prayer, but grasped hers again right after.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems," their father started to talk. "My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes... and their betrothed."

"Hear, hear!" was heard all around the table, mostly on the side opposite Alaera and from herself, hers the only voice on this side of it. She then noticed Aegon leaning just a bit to his right. "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman," she thought she heard and her right fist clenched in her lap.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides." The King continued, and cheers renewed opposite Alaera, who now stared at Aegon. She followed him as he continued to speak to Jacaerys who clenched his jaw in obvious constrained anger. Even Baela, next to him, seemed a bit distressed. Her father standing with difficulty interrupted the interaction she was watching, ready to jump up and dismantle it, should it come to worse than just words exchanged.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other... in the years past." The King removed his mask and let it fall to the table, some disdain in the gesture. "My own face... is no longer a handsome one... if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me... as I am. Not just a king... but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grand sire. Who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you." She could not stop the pain growing in her chest. He sensed his impending end just as she knew it to be.

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly."

Alaera noticed various feelings on the faces around the table: regret on Daemon's, pain on Rhaenyra's, compassion on Baela and Rhaena's delicate ones, disgust on Aegon's, sympathy on Helaena's. She did not dare look at Aemond, she was afraid to.

The King sat with obvious difficulty, the speech having expended too much of his little strength. Her sister then stood with a cup in her hand, still under the effect of their father' words.

"I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood... more loyally by his side than his good wife. ( poignant music playing ) She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." Alaera wanted to jump and kiss her for her words.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We are both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you... and to your house. You will make a fine queen."

Alaera did her best to quench the flicker of hope in her chest. Alicent's words were something she had not hoped to hear, let alone in that sincere tone. Her attention was then once again snatched by her most troublesome brother, now leaning and whispering something to Baela, way too far away for her to hear, but she seemed to discern something like "well satisfied" and made a move to stand but Jace preceded her, his barely constrained anger obvious when he slammed his fists to the table.

"Jace." Baela said, with more self control than her nephew.

Aemond suddenly let go of her hand and stood as if in response to a provocation. She suddenly felt as if she had no idea what was happening and she had no control whatsoever over the situation's development. To her relief, Jace controlled himself and his words came out friendly, if not very well chosen.

"To Prince Aegon and... Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles."

"To you as well." Aegon managed with no sentiment, maybe even disappointed his taunts had not fully reached their purpose.

"Beware the beast beneath the boards," Helaena whispered softly next to her and Alaera sensed as if control over the whole situation was slipping between her fingers.

"Well done, my boy," the King said to Jace, now back sitting in front of him.

She bent toward Helaena and whispered, "What beast, Helaena?" but her sister stood and raised the cup in her hand. "I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk."

Helaena's words and the ease with which they were uttered broke her heart. The thought that her kind younger sister thought every marriage must be like hers to Aegon raised a wave of anger and bile to Alaera's throat. Her eyes went to the Queen who had pushed the union between Aegon and Helaena only to avoid her daughter's marriage to Jace, as Rhaenyra had proposed in an attempt to bridge the growing gap in their family some six years before. Alicent Hightower was not happy with her daughter's speech but no sign of guilt showed on her elegant features. Alaera felt her feet almost push to stand from the chair. She wanted to kick someone but could not decide if the Queen or her first born son should be the first recipient of her anger.

Her father's voice snapped her out of her fury. "And also to my two still unwed children to my right... " the King intervened, looking straight at Alaera. She felt Aemond shortly squeeze her hand in his and resisted the temptation to pull it out of his. She refrained from looking at him although she would have some words for him later. Was he the person she had seen over the past fortnights, the one he showed when they were alone, or was he the man who had just stood up apparently ready to fight when Jacaerys was about to make his toast, probably baited by their asshole brother just a few moments ago?

"I still hope you will trust this old man... enough to take his heartfelt advice. I do see you two for who you truly are and I know... your union would bring you both much happiness. If only I'd be allowed to also see it..." the King continued and Alaera noticed the shock on the faces of those around.

To her left she saw the Queen straighten her back in surprise to the words, eyes wide turning at once to her and to Aemond next to her, sliding from one to the other. Otto Hightower's first reaction was to shake his head in utter disapproval.

To her right Helaena clapped her hands with a big smile on her face, nodding in enthusiastic approval. Her sweetness continued to surprise Alaera, knowing the unhappy marriage her younger sister had with Aegon. He was looking at them with a smirk and a knowing look. She truly did want to smack him. She then observed the utter shock in her nephews' expressions, Daemon's look of contained anger and Rhaenyra's absolute astonishment.

Still under her father's scrutiny, Alaera knew it was her turn to make a step toward bridging the gap. She also sensed it was most probably the last request her father would make of her. Aemond started to caress her hand again, squeezing it slightly in quiet assurance that whatever her answer would be, he would understand.

"Be the conciliator you were born to be, my Jaehaerys," her father said in a slightly more authoritative tone accentuating the name of his grandsire, King Jaehaerys, called "the Conciliator" because he had reunited the Realm after the civil war for succession started by his uncle, Maegor the Cruel.

A cold shiver coursed through Alaera's body. How dare he place such pressure on her, after all she had sacrificed to hold her family together? Had he truly not understood why she had roamed the world for almost half her life, why had she closed herself in musty libraries for months at a time, not seeing sun nor rain until reading the last scroll supposed to hide some scrap of information on an ailment similar to his?

She clenched her jaw, then said, "If it would make you happy, father, I consent," with a slight bow of the head to her King. She did not miss the shock on her older sister's features. She ignored the looks around the table, people throwing each other looks of disbelief and allowed herself to feel almost happy, even hopeful. For all that had happened between her and Aemond over the past weeks, she had not been ready to share it with the rest of their family. Keeping those blooming feelings to themselves had made them all the more precious, to be kept away from prying and critical eyes. She finally looked at her betrothed who then raised their interlocked hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles, his amethyst gaze exuding adoration.

"Now that makes my evening even happier!" the King said with a small curve of his lips. "Let us have some music."

"Wipe that smug smile from your face, darling!" she said not even looking Aemond's way. "You've been to see him today, haven't you?" she asked, remembering he wasn't in his room when she had looked for him.

He nodded. "Should we maybe tell him we're already married?" he whispered barely moving his lips, the eyes of the room still on them.

"More like promised....Not like we have stood in front of the Seven!" she countered under her breath.

"We bound ourselves in the eyes of the gods of Valyria, as the Targaryens of old, WIFE!" he said for her ears only, not even looking at her. "And I know you don't even believe in the Seven," he added, lightly pinching her hand.

"Do you want your lady mother to kill me for robbing her of her favorite cub or would you rather have at least one more night with me?" she asked him with an eyebrow raised accompanied by a knowing smile. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and smiled satisfied when his gaze lowered to her mouth.

"My lips are sealed," he said with a deep breath, once again locking his eye to hers and raising her hand to his lips again. "...for now," he added with the smallest turn of his lips and she smiled in return. She didn't miss the questioning looks they got from all those around the table.

"We'll tell him tomorrow," she said, looking at their ailing father again. "Let him enjoy his triumph over his wildest child," she added, then noticed her sister's meaningful look. "I'll be right back," she said standing and and made her way to the other side of the table, passing Jace who had gallantly excused himself from Baela and invited Helaena to dance.

"You've raised him well," she told her sister, leaning on the back of Rhaenyra' chair, both watching the two dance.

"Thank you. You can't be serious, Alaera!" said Rhaenyra, turning her body to look up at her. Alaera raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I did not think that to be your type," her sister continued.

"And which did you think my type to be, Rhaenyra?"

"Well....not him. You used to talk so much about Dorne, about your friendship with Prince Martell's sister...." she grasped at memories of long ago.

"Coryanne..." was all Alaera said, eyes looking away into nothing.

"I thought for sure there was a man there too," Rhaenyra mused.

"No. Just Coryanne." Alaera clarified and the inflection in her voice made Rhaenyra's eyes open wide in realization of what her younger sister was saying.

"Oh. Alaera. I did not think..." she said, at a loss for words.

"I hid well." Alaera said with a small rueful smile, eyes still holding some regret.

"What happened?" Rhaenyra asked, concerned.

"She wanted me there, with her, not away on a futile quest most of the time," Alaera said, shrugging.

"I am so sorry," Rhaenyra said, taking Alaera's hand in hers.

"I am not, Rhaenyra. That love is still part of me. It opened my eyes to the world in ways I thought were not meant for me," she said dreamily. "Anyway, father has been pushing for this marriage since before Aemond's voice changed!" Alaera replied.

"Ha!" was Rhaenyra's reaction. "Since when do you care what father wants from you?" she added in a low tone, disbelief obvious.

"I did not when he proposed Aegon," she said scoffing, but then her tone changed. "Look at him, Rhaenyra!" Alaera said, suffering dripping from her voice. "We won't have him for much longer, sister. If this is what I can do to bring him some peace at his end..... I failed at everything else anyway," she added, unable to look her elder sister in the eyes.

"Alaera, you did more than any of us. Don't put blame on yourself where there is none to be found!" Rhaenyra said, caressing her younger sister's hand. They were holding hands and both looking at their father as he turned his head to them, his eye gleaming. The moment seemed ominous to Alaera.

"So, do you have names prepared?" she asked with forced cheer when their father looked away from them, back to the two young people dancing.

"Well, Visenya, if it's a girl," Rhaenyra said, caressing her round belly with a loving smile on her lips.

"You can't be serious, Rhaenyra!" Alaera exclaimed.

"You know I wanted our sister to be called Visenya..." she started but stopped, remembering that sister proved to be a brother, Baelon, who only lived a few hours after their mother's death.

"Yes! And I thank all the gods I do not even believe in that you only got that idea in your head after I was already named!" she said emphatically.

"Why? I would think you, of all people, would appreciate her fierceness and strength," Rhaenyra said, looking up at her younger sister.

"Queen Visenya might have been a fierce warrior, but she was a bitter, unloved woman who most probably killed her nephew..." Alaera started.

"Aenis was a bad king!" Rhaenyra intervened.

"Aenys was the Conqueror's chosen heir. Visenya then usurped the throne of his son. Remember Aegon the Uncrowned? All so that her son Maegor can ascend the Iron Throne, kill Jaehaerys' two elder brothers and force his niece Rhaena to marry him after having killed her husband. Please, do not name my niece after that horrible woman!"

Rhaenyra was shortly stunned by Alaera's tirade, then burst into laughter. "Oh, poor baby, you really would have hated it, to be named after her...." she said, laughing with tears in her eyes.

"Fuck, yes!" Alaera said with conviction, then laughed wholeheartedly. Only afterwards did she exit their little bubble of gaiety and glanced around to notice the smiles on this side of the table. Her eyes then slid to Aegon, alone, bored, draining glass after glass and Aemond, stern, turned sideways from her, watching Helaena and Jace dance.

She snapped out of her contemplation when her father started groaning in pain, and leapt up, leaving Rhaenyra's side. The Queen called for the guards to take him away and she went with him.

They were just around the corner from the dining room when he signaled the men to stop and put him down. He reached his only hand to her and Alaera kneeled in front of his chair taking what was only skin and bones between her hands. "It's time for you to let me go, wild child," he said weakly and she barely noticed the tears falling from her eyes while she shook her head, denying his words. "It is your turn now.... my Jaehaerys," he said and fixed her with his only eye. "But take care to not only fight...but also to live," he said and his worry for her seeped through his words. "Try to forgive me, Alaera...." he said, then started to groan again, eye closed in pain.

"My King!" Maester Orwylle said, hurrying their way with what must have been a cup of milk of the poppy in his hands. "Drink this," he said, holding the cup to the ailing King's lips. Alaera stood and made a few steps backwards, her whole body trembling. She stopped when her back hit the hard wall of the corridor, watching the guards take her father away. When they were out of sight, she let herself slip to the cold stone floor, allowing the tears to fall.

When she returned to the dining hall, there was no more music playing and everyone was standing. She stopped in her tracks when she heard Aemond speak.

"'Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?" Jace punched his face but did not do much damage, Aemond still holding his cup in his hand, a mocking smile on his thin lips.

Rhaenyra called Jace's name, Luke ran to his side only to be grabbed by Aegon and pushed down hard against the table, Aemond pushed Jace with enough force for him to fall down. Not even Alicent shouting "Stop!" did much to quiet the spirits. Jace got up but was then detained by guards from his attempt to attack Aemond again.

The Queen took a hold of her second son's arm and asked, "Why would you say such a thing before these people?" obviously distressed by the turn of the evening.

Alaera, still standing by the door, was unable to move.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," she heard him answer, then turned from the Queen and pulled his arm out of her hold. "Mmm, though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs." He turned again to Jace who managed to escape the guard holding him and started again toward his uncle but was stopped by Daemon stepping between them.

"Wait, wait!" said Daemon then turned to Jace and pushed him back with a simple look and a raised finger.

Rhaenyra intervened too, saying "Go to your quarters. All of you go, now." Luke, Baela and Rhaena started to leave, only Jace stayed a couple more moments, unwilling to take the step back from Aemond, even when both his mother and stepfather had already put a stop to the conflict. He then walked to the entrance but stopped next to Alaera on his way out and whispered to her, "Are you really going to marry him?" glancing angrily at Aemond one last time.

Daemon then turned to Aemond, standing in front of him, a look of amusement on his chiseled face. Aemond actually seemed to consider the stand off recognising a true and worthy opponent in his uncle, then turned to leave.

"Mm." was all the sound he made. When he reached the door where Alaera stood frozen, Aemond stopped and looked at her with expectation in his demeanor. She turned her eyes from him and he understood her dismissal and left, followed shortly by Daemon.

He stopped by her side, put a hand on her arm and brought his lips to her temple. "Good choice, dear Alaera!" he whispered, then brushed his lips to her skin. She pulled at once both her head to the sideways from his lips and her arm out of his grip. Without even looking at him, Alaera felt him smile mischievously but did not give the satisfaction of her words. She had already made him a promise the day before and was certain he had not yet forgotten.

"It's best, I think, if we go back to Dragonstone," she heard Rhaenyra say to Alicent who was now close in front of her.

"You've only just arrived," said the Queen, taking her sister's hand and caressing it. Rhaenyra let her eyes drop to their hands and a look of warmth in remembrance of their close friendship softened her resolve.

"Let me see the children home. I'll, um... return on dragon back," she said.

"The King and I would both like that," replied the Queen, obviously happy with the response.

Only then did Rhaenyra leave her once friend and come toward Alaera. "Well, that was..." she started to say, but Alaera interrupted her.

"You cannot go, Rhaenyra!" she said with all the conviction she was capable of.

"I must take the children...." she started explaining.

"I mean it. I can take them, but you and Daemon must stay for what is to come," she said, her eyes trying to transmit all that she knew in her soul to be true. That their father would not see the sun again.

"Alaera...." Rhaenyra shook her head. "Syrax will bring me right back. You'd be stuck on Dragonstone," she said.

"The time for hiding on Dragonstone has ended, Rhaenyra. This is what you have prepared yourself for your whole life. This is why you sent Laenor away and took Daemon to husband," she whispered close to her sister's ear and saw her eyes widen in surprise. She had never told a soul she had accidentally met Laenor in Volantis almost five years earlier.

"What...?" mumbled Rhaenyra startled almost to speechlessness.

"Father said goodbye to us tonight. Do not ignore it!" Alaera said, then turned and left her sister's side. She could not force others to do what she thought, only guide them and hope they chose right. After all, she did have her own plans to take care of.

Her first impulse was to look after her father again and her feet took her to his door where she was met by the Queen about to enter her husband's room.

"Princess, it is quite late, the King needs his rest," the Queen said, compassion mingled with something resembling accusation in her tone.

"Yes, my Queen," she said, looking one more time with regret at the closed door behind Alicent Hightower's back. Alaera then bowed her head slightly and turned to leave.

"Princess, you know quite well that I do not agree with your union to my son, but being the wish of the King...." the Queen said, playing with her rings. Alaera turned to her, then came close to the older women and placed her right hand on the Queen's, stilling her fingers.

"He will leave us soon, my Queen. Very soon," Alaera said, her voice already mourning her father. "Forgive a motherless and soon fatherless daughter for wanting to grab with both hands what happiness is given to her with an open heart, even if it should only last for a little while."

Alicent Hightower had no words for Alaera, just a curt nod of understanding, empathy filling her eyes. After all, she too had lost her mother long ago, when she had been but a girl of fifteen. Much older than Alaera who saw her mother cut open when she was six.

Alaera then went to her room and started to change when she heard a knock on the door. "Come!" she said, almost certain it was not Tora. As expected, Aemond stepped in. He closed the door behind him and made a few steps in her direction, then halted, probably put off because she was ignoring him. Which she was absolutely doing, in a very immature attitude, she realized and stopped pulling at the laces tying her dress. She hated those damn things. So impractical.

She breathed deeply, then glanced at him. For all intents and purposes, he was once again the calm and collected man she knew...and had spent a very intense night with. Just last night. In this very room. In her bed which was once again pristine. Even if it meant all the servants knew of her nightly activities. As if it made any difference at this point. They called her wild, she might as well live up to it.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked, indicating the laces of her dress.

"Thank you," she said and he slowly approached. She turned her back to him and tried to get as much of her long curls away from the laceline. Which meant her neck was now exposed and she was able to feel his warm breath on her skin.

She knew not how much experience he had with undoing women's dresses and, although it seemed to her he did have some difficulties at the beginning, after the first few inches he easily worked the dress open. On every strip of skin he bared, she felt small caresses of his long fingers that sent shivers down her spine and made her core already clench in anticipation. She steeled herself for the discussion they must have in order to salvage even a sliver of their presumed love.

She heard him inhale deeply then take a step back signaling that he was done.

"Thank you," she said, turning to him, holding her dress which was now loose on the upper part and about to fall from her. She searched his gaze for something, anything, holding back every question or reproach her tongue burned with. Long moments passed and he said nothing, so she allowed her bubbling anger out. She let her dress fall down and noticed his gaze drop over her almost see through shift underneath, then trail back to her face. She shook her head in disbelief, then pulled the shift off too and, fully naked, went to an armchair where she had laid her clothes for the night and started putting on the dark riding clothes.

"Where are you going?" he finally asked.

"I have a previous engagement," she said, throwing him an incredulous look.

"I thought we had a previous engagement," he said, coming a few steps closer to her.

She turned at once, abandoning the clasping of her tunic's buckles. "And I thought I had bound myself to a man that had overcome the offenses and injuries of his childhood!"

Aemond's anger surfaced at once and he covered the few feet between them in a heartbeat. "They mocked me. He took my eye." he said in a voice so deep and low it resembled a growl. She instinctively raised her right hand to his face, but his immediate pull of his face away from her gesture made her stop midway.

"Father killed my mother and for many years all I wanted was to take a knife to his body. He went on to marry and father children with no care for his six year old little girl who fucking. stopped. talking. for three whole years," she said, all of a sudden brimming with more rage than she had ever shown him.

Aemond pulled her to him and almost forcefully embraced her, his lips on her forehead. "Fate punished him to his state today!" he said, his hand caressing her back. Alaera answered by holding him tightly, as if the strength of her arms would be able to mend the rift between them.

"Then let fate take care of those who've hurt you. Live for now, for this!" she pleaded, grabbing his face in her hands, eyes locked together, trying to convince him of what she knew they could have. "Not for revenge." she added.

"You weren't here, Alaera. You do not know how...it was for me," he said, turning his gaze from her, anger and sadness combined in his low voice.

"I know...and I'm sorry for that," she said, not letting go of his hand. "I didn't know that I was...needed. I was never even wanted, so how could I have known...?" she said, her own inner child's sorrow resurfacing.

"I wanted you here. I wanted you close by. I wanted your company.... every time I came to you, in the Godswood, in the library, in the training yard, in the Dragonpit," he said with more pathos than she had thought him capable. "I needed you." He added, purple gaze once again drowning her, his hands holding her face so close to his, their breaths mingled.

"I didn't know.... I grew up so alone, no one paid any attention to me. All they wanted from me was to be a proper princess and marry some lordling. I was so desperate to find some purpose for myself beyond breeding for some Lannister or Tyrell..."

"You left me to their mercy and this happened to me!" he said with bitterness and barely contained rage while he pulled his patch and then the sapphire out of his empty eye socket.

"I'm sorry..." she said, tears streaming down her face.

"And you blame me when I finally have them at my mercy?" he asked through gritted teeth. "When do I get the debt repaid?"

Her hands slowly caressed his face, then descended to his chest halting over his heart. What did it beat for revenge when he had promised it to her? She broke their eye contact and lowered her eyelids, then leaned her forehead in the crook of his neck, allowing herself to enjoy their closeness, to inhale his scent, to feel his heartbeat under her hand. After some moments, her hands slowly moved down to his sides and she lifted her eyes to his. She saw his gaze search hers for understanding and his mouth move an inch closer to hers but also noticed the doubt that kept him from straightforward kissing her.

She had to restrain herself from covering the small distance between their lips. She grabbed the long knife sheathed to his right hip and pulled it between them, offering it to him. "Just take one of my eyes out and be done with it!" she said, pleading.

He stumbled back a step, his eye widened in shock.

"Take it and let it be over," Alaera added, her tears now gone. "An eye for an eye, isn't it?"

"It is not your eye that is owed to me," his voice still laced with barely restrained anger, frustration and pain.

"I pulled that boy out of his mother, I choose to pay whatever he owes you," she said with utter conviction. "Take it now and let your wound heal, Aemond," she pleaded, this time in a more personal tone. "Let yourself love more than you hate," she continued, taking a step closer to him, offering him his own knife.

Aemond then grabbed her wrists and pulled her so close to him that she could almost feel the heat of his body, the trembling of his taut muscles. He lowered his head, closed his eye and brought the palm of her right hand to his scar, angling his face into her touch. After some moments he pulled her head to his and united their lips in the most chaste kiss they had ever shared. There was only pain and longing in it. It felt like goodbye to Alaera.

"I would hate myself even more than I hate him," he said, just a breath between their lips. She knew right then that her battle for his heart was lost. He had chosen his hate for Lucaerys over his love for her.

"We could have had it all..." she whispered, full of regret.

"īlon nykeēdrosa kostagon, issa jorrāelagon, (we still can, my love)" he replied, full of conviction.

"How can you say you love me when you give into hate at every turn?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Because I do love you..." Aemond replied sternly.

"Just not enough," was all she could say. She took her coat from the armchair and left through the secret corridor.

Chapter Text

By the time Alaera had finished her dealings and delivered the orphan to Sorelle's care, the sun had already ascended the sky. Next she went to the docks in search of the right ship to take her charges to the intended destination. Normally, she would have waited, searched some more. She was certain there were more silver blond haired children in the slums her brother so frequently visited, but she had a feeling of impending doom that made her quicken her plans.

She had promised that young mother, Rose, security for her and her newborn and she would deliver them and her newest charge into safety. She knew some of the ship owners that often made trips to Dragonstone and found one she trusted enough. It took several hours for it all to be settled, for the young mother with her baby and the little four year old girl whose freedom she had paid for last night to be packed and delivered to the ship. Alaera watched it sail away and hoped the raven she had already sent to her friends had reached its destination on Dragonstone.

In between her travels, she had met three wonderful women, all meant to be mothers, but all lacking that which they deeply desired. All three had known loss, either of the child they had born or of the partner they would have built a family with. One had simply been unable all her life. Meeting Alaera Targaryen had meant a chance for them all, as the Princess knew of children in need of care, safety and love but also had the means to ensure that. And so a home and school for orphans had been built on Dragonstone, under the shadow of the castle, close to the village where other children with similar features grew and played.

Not all the children in this ever-growing house had silver-blond hair and lavender eyes, but every couple of years Alaera would find such children in the slums of King's Landing or in the brothels on the Street of Silk and bring them there. Apart from the three women and the husbands of two of them, no one knew the true identity of their benefactor, but a silver haired young woman would sometimes visit with gifts for the children. Every once in a while one of them would recognise her from some long forgotten memory of another place, maybe cold and dirty, maybe dangerous, from which she had pulled them out of. They called her “the good aunt” and nothing made Alaera happier than being trampled down under their happy hugs.

The Princess made her way back to the Keep with heavy steps, hiding her face and hair under the hood of her dark coat. It had been irresponsible of her to go alone to a brothel known to cater to the most disgusting wishes, run by a man of no morals. The White Worm had laid the way for her, and had long tried to buy the little girl with golden-white hair and amethyst eyes, but the owner knew well how much a Targaryen looking whore would bring him in just a few years. Looking at the silent girl, Alaera wondered if she wasn't already late, if they had not already hurt her.

She had lost patience with Mysaria's negotiations and would have gone alone to conclude the trade, but for White Worm's insistence to take one of her people with her. Rushing into it had been a mistake but luckily her companion had spirited the little girl out just as the owner realized he had a real life Targaryen look alike alone in his den, which might bring him faster the coin he was losing with the girl. Alaera had lost two of her dearest knives in the fight that ensued, but had not left unscathed: a purple collar was already obvious around her neck and a couple of her ribs were probably cracked on her right side. Her head, which had been bumped against a wall hard enough to make her almost lose consciousness, still hurt and made her dizzy every once in a while. The scraped hands and knees didn't even count. She was alive. He was not anymore.

Reaching her room through the catacombs, Alaera noticed nothing had been moved since she'd left it the night before. There was no fresh water or a bath waiting for her. The red dress she had worn last evening was still on the armchair where she'd thrown it in her rush to leave Aemond's presence.

It took a lot of effort and pain to disrobe. Everything seemed to hurt. She found a big purple bruise on her right thigh. It matched the ribs, she thought. Must have been the time he had pushed against the wall. She would lie to say it was the first beating she had received in her life, but at least she knew what to do about it. She cleaned as best she could with the cold water in the basin, spread ointments on her wounds and then left some wet cloths on the balcony, hoping they'd be cooler later to be applied where her flesh was already swollen.

All she wanted was to lie down and sleep. The night before with little to no sleep with Aemond and then the previous one with its missadventure has expended all her powers. She didn't even find the strength to dress in a night shift and climb under the covers. She must have dozed off for when she opened her eyes again there was no more light left outside her windows. She jumped from her bed only to be met with searing pain. Yes, definitely broken ribs, she thought remembering her body was still made of flesh and bone. Something grated at her mind, now and from before, when she had arrived. What was it? She went to the door of her room and found it to be locked, strangely, from the inside. Had that been Aemond last night, after she had left? She went through the hidden door of her room and knocked on his. No answer. She tried to open it but it was blocked from the inside. She returned to her room and realized what was different. Silence. More silence than on any given evening in the Red Keep. Sure, her windows looked to the outside of the Keep and not toward some inner courtyard but still, some noise was bound to come through.

She dressed quickly in the first dress she found, thankful it was a loose one, from days when she had more meat on her. From before her last travel, the one she mostly could not recall. She was shocked by an unexpected thought: what had she done with her life? What did she have to show for after twentynine years in this world? But then she cleared her mind of pointless musings and left her room. No servants anywhere. Guards everywhere. She managed to evade a couple by hiding in the shadows but Criston Cole's eyes were too discerning to miss her, even in her dark dress.

“Princess Alaera”! He exclaimed and she noticed the surprise in his eyes.

“Ser Criston, where is everybody?” she asked.

“We have been looking for you, Princess,” he said, shaking his astonishment. She did not miss his avoidance in answering her question. “Allow me to accompany you to Her Grace, the Queen!” he said and indicated the way.

“I want to visit my father first,” she said, not following him. He stopped in his tracks and, after a moment, turned to her, a look of sadness on his features. “The Queen is by the King's side,” he said and she knew he was still hiding something. As she followed him on the quiet corridors that feeling of impending doom spread its cold claws in her already aching body. Alaera Targaryen straightened her back and accepted whatever was to come. She could not control the world around her but she was master over herself. That was her best weapon and her strongest defense.

In front of the King's rooms she breathed in deeply and welcomed the pain radiating from the right side of her ribcage. She could take whatever waited on the other side of the door. Flashes of red blood flowing and her mother screaming in pain brought tears to her eyes. But she blinked fast and held them in. She knew. Her tears would soon flow for another.

Criston Cole opened the door and the light of dozens and dozens of candles told her what she already knew. She stepped inside and he followed. She saw the queen standing next to the already wrapped body, the lithe shape of what had once been a strong man and father, even if a weak king.

“Your Grace, the Princess Alaera… wished to see the King,” he said and the Queen turned to them, lowering a handkerchief from her nose.

“Thank you, Ser Criston, you can leave us,” she said and came toward her. “My dear Alaera, I am so sorry…” she started, reaching for Alaera's right hand with her left one.

“When?” Alaera asked, eyes glued to the body, trying to reconcile herself to the new reality, the one she had dreaded for half her life.

“Sometime during the night your father, the King, has left us,” she said, sorrow still in her voice.

Almost a full day gone. She was too late, Alaera knew.

“Does…does my sister know?” she asked, snapping herself out of the pain, knowing she had no time for mourning.

“It has been decided,” the Queen started to say, taking her hand away from holding Alaera's, who in turn dropped her eyes to the Queen's movement. “That Princess Rhaenyra would be informed on the morrow.”

“Excuse me?” Alaera asked. “My sister should be here to light fire to our father's pyre and to receive his crown,” she said with growing conviction.

“Princess, I must tell you… Last night, your father, the King, told me with his last words that he wanted Aegon to be king after him,” she said and Alaera raised an eyebrow, her gaze burrowing into the dowager Queen's eyes, searching for the truth of her words. “He told me of a dream, of Aegon being King, of uniting the Realm…” she continued, but then Alaera interrupted her.

“Did he also tell you about the Song of Ice and Fire?” she asked, watching the Queen and seeing recognition in her eyes.

“How do you…?” Alicent mumbled.

“Father told you about the Conqueror's dream, not your son's. He was talking to his heir…not to you!” she concluded.

“How would you know?” the dowager asked intrigued.

“Simple. He told me the same about a fortnight ago. He had probably drunk too much milk of the poppy and thought me to be my sister. He called me Rhaenyra and proceeded to tell me about a dream the Conqueror apparently had… a prophecy then passed down from king to heir to this day,” she said and saw the Queen's eyes enlarged with deep shock. “I do no know my brother Aegon to have ever cared about ruling or the good of the people. And father knew it. He would have rather had Helaena on the throne!” she said and huffed.

The Queen came to her senses and replied, “Helaena will be Queen by Aegon's side!”

“Do not fool yourself. The only true power will be Otto Hightower! All this just because he cannot let go of power,” Alaera said with confidence, approaching Alicent, then continued close to the woman's ear. “It is why he sent you to my father's chamber not long after my mother's…death,” Alaera said, stumbling on the last word. The Queen lowered her eyes and started turning her rings on her fingers. “I do not blame you, Alicent Hightower. You probably did not think you had a choice. You were then a dutiful daughter, later the best wife to care for my father in his decline. For that at least I am deeply thankful.”

She followed the older woman's every reaction to better understand her and knew the tears that started to drip down her cheeks to be honest. She covered the Queen's hands with her own, stilling them. “Now be a good Queen and recognize that out of all of your husband's children, the best suited to sit the Iron Throne is Rhaenyra,” she said with all the conviction she was capable of, keeping her voice soft but strong without seeming aggressive. She needed Alicent to see the truth in her words and not think herself pushed around. For that was her drama, forever being at the mercy of others, doing the bidding of the men in her life with no regard for her own will. Were it not for her cold treatment of Alaera in her childhood and the poison she had dripped in her own children's ears when growing up, Alaera would even feel compassion for the woman.

The Queen raised her wet eyes to Alaera and she had the feeling Alicent was about to agree with her. But then she shook her head, her eyes once again falling to her wreathing fingers.

“I cannot allow my children to be…. harmed if Daemon should rule with Rhaenyra!” Alaera knew right away the Queen was expressing her strongest fear.

“I know exactly who Daemon Targaryen is, my Queen, and I would have no qualms whatsoever to stop him should he come anywhere near any of my siblings or their children with ill intent,” Alaera said and Alicent's eyes shot to hers.

“You cannot ensure their safety,” Alicent said, head shaking in sad disbelief.

“Both me and Rhaenyra would ensure that. I know her. You know her….even better than me, maybe,” Alaera said with a bitter smile. “She is not mean or vengeful. She is a mother and will understand your concerns as you surely do hers. If your children accept her rule, she will have no reason to act against them. If Rhaenyra has a daughter, she could marry Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and little Aegon could be betrothed right away. A new order could be installed. The ruler could choose not a first born, but the right one from between the younger generation of the family,” Alaera led with an alternative she had long mused upon. “Or another Great Council could elect from among the contenders,” she added. “The people could appoint their next ruler, notwithstanding birth order or sex,” she said, her long overthought ideas overtaking her discourse.

Alicent seemed to actually consider all that Alaera was expressing, her fingers for once still. Until they weren't anymore, the rings once again being turned, the Queen's head turned away, shaking. “Rhaenyra would never disown her bastards,” she said bitterly.

“They might not be Velaryons,” Alaera acceded, “but they are Targaryens!” she said with conviction, basically making Alicent look at her just through sheer will power. “They were carried for nine moons and birthed into the world with great pain by a Targaryen. Dragons hatched to them confirming they are Targaryen. And we are talking about the Targaryen throne. Why should the father matter more than the mother? What effort do fathers put into their children?” she asked, her voice now softer, her eyes slipping to the still body of her own sire.

“The men of the Realm would not accept such ideas, Princess!” Alicent said, some regret in her voice.

“You mean to say your father and your elder sons would not accept such ideas,” she said, with bite in her tone.

“It is a men's world we live in, Princess,” the Queen said.

“Because we allow it, my Queen. Because women work against one another, even when they are worthier than the men that oppose them,” she pleaded.

“One cannot change the world radically simply because one wishes it,” the Queen said sadly.

“But one can make it even worse by covering up mens violence upon women,” Alaera spit her fire and the Queen froze at once under the accusation in Alaera's eyes and words. She shifted from the younger woman and continued to nervously turn her rings around her fingers.

When she faced Alaera after some time, she was once again poised. “You said you love Aemond. Then stand by him. Stand by us and ensure a peaceful transition. Convince Rhaenyra it is for the best and they can remain unbothered on Dragonstone,” Alicent Hightower offered.

“Aegon has no empathy, no care for the people, no respect for those beneath his station, no compassion, no morality. He can not be King.”

“I will be there to guide him,” the Queen said, trying to infuse confidence in her own words, Alaera thought.

“As you did before? Allowing him to do whatever he wants, with no consequences, ordering moon teas and menacing young girls into silence?” Alaera asked, approaching the Queen.

“A mother does what she needs to,” she replied but without confronting Alaera's steely gaze.

“Hmm. Do you remember Rose, my Queen? The sixteen year old maid you paid off and gifted one of your teas some nine turns of the moon ago? I delivered her beautiful baby boy a few days ago. He reminded me of someone. A boy I loved with all my heart many years ago, when I myself was a child with no one to love, back when no one cared for me. The same silver blonde hair, big beautiful lavender eyes, upturned nose, rosy cheeks. I wish you could have seen him. He almost killed his mother coming into the world but I took care of it. In a good way. I took care of several of your grandchildren, my Queen. Oh, no, do not worry, all is well, they are safe and sound, far away from those who would wish them dead.” Alaera mused, almost to herself.

The Queen gave no answer, looking down the whole time. “If you want to marry Aemond, you will consider my request, Princess! Lord Commander?” she said loudly, to be heard from outside the door. “You understand, of course, you cannot be allowed to leave your room until the coronation. You will stay by our side, be a dutiful betrothed to my son and I will consider allowing you to wed,” she added as Criston Cole approached. Alaera registered his rise in status and wondered what could have happened to Ser Harold Westerling since the day before. “Take Princess Alaera to her room and lock it from the outside. Place a guard in front of it too!” she ordered.

“Yes, Your Grace!” he answered.

Alaera nodded, then approached his father's wife. “Do not forget this evening, my Queen. Do not forget I offered you the means to ensure your children's survival and well being. After tomorrow, I will be powerless to defend them. And so will you,” she said, with deep regret coating her words.

With one last long look toward her father's body, she left the Queen to continue her mourning alone. She followed Ser Criston outside, but after a few steps halted. “Take me to my brother, Aegon,” she said, hoping it might work.

“Her Grace, the Queen, gave clear instructions. The future King is not to be bothered tonight as he prepares for his coronation!” Criston Cole said, in his probably rehearsed tone of great import.

She bit her tongue and then walked to her room in perfect silence, exchanging no other word with the new Lord Commander. There had never been any shred of friendship between them and Alaera could not forget how he had obliterated Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, Laenor's close friend, on Rhaenyra's wedding day. And with no impunity, for that was what truly angered Alaera, the exemption from responsibility.

He locked the door behind her and she took a few moments to clear her thoughts. She was so tired and her head still hurt, either from the heavy blow taken the previous night or from the events of this evening, she could not decide. It made no difference. She had to move. She had to leave her previous life as daughter of the King behind and accept she was now a free agent, one lacking the means to truly make her will law.

Dressing in her riding attire took longer than she would have thought, as the pain she experienced in several body parts seemed to be even stronger than before. To be expected. It would be better on the morrow, should she lay down and rest. Which was not an option. She armed herself with all the knives she owned and strapped her sword to her back, then covered it all under a black cloak. One last look around her room was all the goodbye she allowed herself. Would she ever be back? She could not answer, for the first time in her life.

She took the secret passageways, glad to find no guards had been posted. A sound somewhere behind her made her turn but she could see no one there. Most of this hidden corridor system developed by the untrusting Maegor the Cruel, wanting to always have an escape route, was not lighted. Very few torches shined their meager light here and there, mostly where passages crossed, merged or diverged. Alaera should not have been surprised when, slowly walking backwards, she clashed against another moving body. Pain forgotten, she drew her sword and aimed it at the other's neck. She discerned a familiar face. The man was taller than her, dressed in white Kingsguard garb, his hair long and unbound.

“Ser Erryk?” she asked.

“Yes, my Princess,” he answered, his eyes between her face and her sword. He lifted both his arms in a sign of peace.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be guarding my usur…” she stopped, considering the man in front of her had been Aegon's sworn sword for quite some years and knew of all his worst qualities. But she knew not where his loyalties now lay and a mistake might cost her the chance to send news to her sister. “My brother Aegon?”

He did not reply, but holding one palm toward Alaera, moved his other hand lower to the bag he was carrying, taking care not to move his head as her blade was still at his neck. She kept her eyes on him, knowing that should he make a move against her, it was there she would see the first sign of it. But the resolution she noted in his eyes was not against her, she thought. Only when he extracted a golden object out of his bag, did she lower her eyes shortly. She felt her eyes widen in utter surprise when she recognized her father's crown, previously worn by her great-grandfather, King Jaehaerys. It was the crown of two mostly peaceful Kings, unlike the one the Conqueror had worn, a black crown of ashes and burned blood.

“I am taking this to your sister, Princess Rhaenyra,” he said simply and she lowered her sword.

“You will not see me stopping you,” she replied with a small rueful smile. She remembered a time she was a bit taken with him, before he had become, in her eyes, complicit to her brother's despicable deeds.

“Come with me, Princess, I can get us out of the Keep,” he said, full of conviction.

“I can manage, but thank you, Ser!” she said, then went around him to go on her way, but stopped suddenly. “Ser Erryk, could you free my aunt, the Princess Rhaenys and take her to the harbor? I fear she must have been locked in her room and pressured into giving her support to the usurpers,” she mused aloud. She felt ashamed about having forgotten about her father's cousin. And her dragon Meleys. Damn it.

“Already on my way, Princess!” he said and bowed, then made to leave.

“Tell my sister…” she started after him, but stumbled on her words. The knight turned and waited for her to continue. “Whatever happens, tell her I tried,” she said and left without waiting for an answer. She tried to make her way to the tower where the ravens were kept and bred, but she did not get far. Even cloaked by darkness, all the corridors were being intensely patrolled by guards obviously loyal to the greens. They did not seem at all impressed by the hanging bodies strewn across the inner yard. Alaera descended again to the bowels of the Keep and followed the known path past Balerion's immense skull and did her best not to think what might have happened to her most devout companion, the one she had doomed in her boisterous ambition to heal the unhealable. She welcomed the pain in her body, it was so much lighter than the one in her heart.

She left the Keep and made her way to the docks once more but had to wait for the early hours to inquire after boats or ships sailing to Dragonstone. She had prepared several small rolls of parchment with the dark news for her sister. She managed to employ two boat captains but she did not truly trust them or the speed of their sails. To be on the safe side, she sent the same message to Driftmark also, hoping that, against all odds, the Sea Snake had survived and maybe even made his way to his seat.

Alaera raised her eyes above the city and stopped her gaze on the Hill of Rhaenys, where the Dragonpit stood in all its magnificence. Where she had learned so much about dragons from the dragon keepers, even if she had not really trained there herself. Rexhor had waited for her in a deep cave on the Dragonmont and training had somehow not been necessary between them. She decided to make her way there and free Meleys so that she might follow Rhaenys. Even if she had most probably been bound her entire life, Alaera was certain the she-dragon would find her rider or, worst case, fly back to Driftmark and wait for her aunt there.

To her surprise, as the sun began to shine, people were basically being herded in the same direction she was making her way. She knew she stood out with her black clothes and three headed dragon on her chest, which she did her best to cover with her cloak even if, between so many people and under the growing sun, it was becoming way too warm for her liking. At least she had tightly braided her hair away from her face so that its color could not be seen from under the hood.

She reached the Dragonpit where hundreds if not thousands were already gathered. She did not wait to be spotted by the guards posted all around the hall, but made her way to the level below and toward the caves where dragons were housed.

“Dārilaros Alaera!” (Princess Alaera) a voice addressed her. “Skorkydoso kostagon nyke dohaeragon ao?” (How can I serve you?) the dragon keeper, the same older man who had officiated her ceremony with Aemond but a few days before, asked with a small bow.

“Skoros sia ivestretan naejot gaomagon?” (What were you told to do?) she asked, seeing others walk around with purpose.

“Dārys Aegon kessa gūrogon Sunfyre naejot se jēdrar.” (King Aegon will take Sunfyre to the skies) was the answer. Of course, Alaera thought, a show of Targaryen force and might to conclude and better justify the coronation.

“Nyke jorrāelagon Meleys,” (I need Meleys) she said simply.

“Yn ao daor kipagon meleys, dārilaros!” (But you cannot ride Meleys, Princess!) he said, surprised by her request.

“Gaoman daor jaelagon naejot kipagon zirȳla nykēla,” (I do not want to ride her myself) she said appeasingly. “Tolī se urnēptre iksis gaomagon jaelan zirȳla daerēdas naejot sōvegon naejot Driftmark mērī,” (After the show is done I want her freed to fly to Driftmark alone) she explained.

“Skoros nūmāzma se dārilaros Rhaenys?” (What about the Princess Rhaenys?) he asked, concerned about Meleys' rider.

“Nyke pāsagon ēza issare daerēdas ondoso sir,” (I trust she has been freed by now) she said with as much certainty as she could muster.

After a few moments weighing her words, the dragon keeper said, “Kessa sagon gaomagon!” (It will be done!) and bowed in agreement. To her luck, the dragon keepers served all Targaryens, not just the one wearing the crown, and they did it in such a way as to better care for the dragons. In the end, Alaera thought them capable of treason in order to protect a dragon. That was pretty much what she had just asked of the man.

She made her way to Meleys' den and the Red Queen raised her head from her lying position and affixed her golden eyes on Alaera.

“Rytsas gevie,” (hello beautiful) she said, simply looking at the red beast. She said nothing more, as she searched some deep place inside her where her respect and appreciation for all dragons resided. Even as a small child she would escape notice when her older sister was training with Syrax in the Dragonpit and make her way to the caves where Caraxes, the riderless Dreamfyre and a few younger hatchlings were housed. She had hated to see them there, in the darkness, with only some torches for light, when they were meant to soar the skies. Alaera remembered speaking to the dragons, but how exactly was unclear to her, as her High Valyrian was not yet that good.

Meleys' golden eyes never left Alaera's blue ones, but after a while the she-dragon lowered her head back in front of her body and half-closed her eyes. Only then did Alaera dare to approach her and touch her snout in a caress. “Sȳz riña,” (good girl) she said softly. “Sōvegon naejot Driftmark!” (fly to Driftmark) she said in a commanding tone and the Red Queen once again opened her eyes wide.

“What are you doing to my dragon?” came a sharp voice from the darkness.

“Telling her to follow you to Driftmark, aunt, where I thought you were headed,” Alaera said without turning from the dragon now wide awake, big eyes affixed to the woman behind Alaera. “But I'm glad to see you've escaped the Red Keep, at least,” she added, turning to Rhaenys.

“I could not leave her,” Rhaenys said and approached her dragon who in turn stretched her snout to greet her rider.

“Good! Then my business here is concluded, I will leave you to get ready… though it might be some time until the obscenity upstairs is finished,” she added with disgust in her tone. “I suggest you stay hidden until my usurper of a brother takes his dragon for a ride,” she added, turning to leave.

“I will not cower and hide!” Rhaenys replied and Alaera turned apprising her aunt, trying to discern her meaning. “But how come you are not up there challenging them in the name of your sister Rhaenyra?”

“With what backing? A sword and a few knives?” she said irritated, as if it wasn't all she could think about. “I tried!” she exclaimed. “I told Rhaenyra not to leave King's Landing. I tried to negotiate alternatives with the Queen last night. I was not allowed to see Aegon. What more would you have me do, Princess?”

“Then allow me!” Rhaenys said and went for her riding attire, stored not far away.

“What do you intend to do, aunt?” Alaera asked.

“What you cannot, dear niece. Stop the… obscenity, you called it? …upstairs,” she said with the smallest but still wicked turn of the lips. “Dāez ñuha zaldrīzes!” (free my dragon) she said loudly in an imperative voice and two dragon keepers appeared a few moments later to follow her command.

“The pit is full of people. How do you plan to safely disrupt the ceremony?” Alaera asked, uneasiness in her voice.

“The same way Sunfyre is expected to emerge,” Rhaenys said with a shrug. “Come with me, Alaera! We will fly then to Dragonstone. Your sister will need your support in the times to come,” Rhaenys said with compassion. She might not be friend to Rhaenyra, but she was fair. Alaera nodded in approval and helped her aunt don her riding clothes.

They made short work of it and took Meleys to the ramp to the pit's main chamber but it was blocked by several guards. Outside the crowd was roaring, cheering their new anointed king and Alaera knew they were too late. The guards were alerted to see the unexpected big red dragon appear and she could hear them shouting to warn others. This was not going according to plan, she thought.

“You won't be able to avoid harming people!” she shouted to her aunt. “Let's wait until….” she pleaded but only found decisiveness in Rhaenys' face.

“It's too late, they've seen us. They won't let us leave. Climb up now, Alaera!” Rhaenys shouted and extended a hand to her. Alaera approached the Red Queen who was flattening her left wing for her to scale, but then looked at the amassing guards who had been obviously instructed to stop their ascent into the pit. She looked at her aunt again and shook her head. “Please, dont!” she yelled, but knew her aunt had made the decision already. Alaera took a few steps back from the beautiful beast and watched Rhaenys steel herself, then shout “Sōvegon!” to her mount.

Alaera retired with the dragon keepers deeper into the caverns and heard and felt at once the deafening sound and shake of destruction. Meleys had broken through the floor of the pit and emerged in front of the erected stage where part of her family now stood. She turned her back to the explosion of stone and dust and crouched down in an effort to protect her head. The air was at once unbreathable and she started coughing up the dust infiltrating her windpipe.

The shouts of terror and pain coming from the level above permeated to her and made her get up and ascend with difficulty through the debris. Meleys and her rider were standing in front of the podium where she was able to discern the dowager Queen positioning herself in front of Aegon, now wearing the Conqueror's crown, his sword Blackfyre still clutched in his right hand. Criston Cole was shielding her sister Helaena and Aemond stood in a fighting stance next to him. Otto Hightower commanded “Open the doors!”, but was then backing from the approaching beast.

Alaera recognised Meleys' stance of preparation to attack, the rippling of her muscles under her red scales, the stretch of her strong neck. She looked at her aunt but being so much lower and to the back of her right side, she could not discern the woman's face. “Don't do it!” she shouted but did not know if her voice was heard in the uproar of hundreds of people shouting and clamoring to get out of the immense hall.

She did what had been an instinct ingrained in her for the last twenty years: she concentrated on the dragon, she extended her will in both command and plea to the creature now barely restraining its anger. Alaera knew deep down the anger was less of the dragon but more of the rider, Rhaenys' resentment renewed after the injustice she most probably still felt had been done to her through the decision of the Great Council of 101. She, the first born descendant of King Jaehaerys, had been passed over in favor of the younger Viserys, Alaera's father. Such wrongdoing leaves a mark, no matter how well one manages to reconcile themselves in its wake.

“Gaomagon daor zālagon zirȳ!” (Do not burn them!) she shouted with all the strength in her body, when the dragon's head backed a bit in preparation for what Alaera knew to be the spewing of fire. All that came was a roar, but Alaera felt a sense of acquiescence meeting her extended will. Had she gotten through to the dragon? She was stunned as she looked at the Red Queen turning and taking flight toward the opening doors. Alaera thought she saw a critical look as her aunt shortly met her eyes. Rhaenys had heard Alaera's command and did not appreciate another trying to control her dragon. But maybe she just imagined it. Maybe it was her own high strung mind that made her see things where there were none.

She exhaled deeply, having the feeling she had stopped breathing long ago. Coughing followed and she thought she must have only dust coating her mouth.

“Alaera”! She heard an angry voice screaming in her direction. “It was you!” Aegon said, making a few steps in her direction. It did not take long for two guards to grab her and bring her, with some difficulty, through the debris to the base of the stairs where her newly crowned brother stood. “How dare you?” he asked, coming down the steps toward her.

“How dare I…what? Attempt to stop our aunt from burning you while she escapes captivity, you mean?”

“How dare you talk like that to your King?” he howled, approaching her, his face just inches from hers, his body shaking with barely contained rage. She felt his breath and a few droplets of spit on her face, but remained unflinching, then slowly turned her face to look at him.

“You never wanted to be king, Aegon,” she said softly but with knowledge of her brother in her words. “You never wanted this,” she said, head shaking, and sensed him calming down a bit.

“Father named me his heir right before his death,” he said, feigning more confidence than he actually had.

“You know he did not. Whatever you've been told…. you know, Aegon!” she said, schooling her voice into compassion and understanding for the little boy who had been overlooked by his father. “How could he when you never showed any interest in ruling, in politics, in all the obligations attached to sitting the Iron Throne?“ she continued, feeling his resolve diminish.

“Bend the knee, Princess, and swear your allegiance to the King!” said Otto Hightower, coming behind her brother and interrupting them.

“My King is dead,” she said loudly, no amusement, only pain in her voice. “The only King I acknowledge is our father and you are not the heir he named!” she continued standing still, back straight, poised with confidence, even if she knew it would only provoke him more.

“Of course, you want that whore and her bastards on my throne!” Aegon spewed, his anger inflamed again.

“Rhaenyra took the time and the effort to sit the Council on countless meetings, unlike the rest of us,” she said, indicating to the direction where Aemond and Helaena stood.

“Until she ran to hide on Dragonstone with her tail between her legs,” he said, with a sneer and deprecation in his tone, now circling her.

“She did what she thought best for her children,” Alaera countered with a dismissive shrug though she had not agreed with her sister's decision over six years before.

“For her bastards, you mean,” he countered, a jeer on his lips, stopping on her right, his face close enough to hers that she could feel his quickened breathing on her cheek and smell the wine on it. Her eyes were watching the people behind him, Helaena with her face turned from the scene, the dowager Queen nervously turning the rings on her fingers, the Hand following their exchange with interest and also looking around after who might hear it, Criston Cole steeling himself into immovability, eyes ahead into nothing, but listening, of that she was sure. And Aemond, his right eye affixed on her, sometimes slipping to their brother, probably trying to anticipate what will happen next, his stance showing he was ready to spring into action.

She turned her face toward Aegon and asked, “Who cares for your bastards, brother, the ones you forced on whores and unwilling maids alike?” her mouth close to his. She saw the look of surprise in the widening of his lavender eyes.

“Bring me my dragon!” he shouted into Alaera's face. “Now!” She made no move but noticed Aemond's eye glue itself to hers, something resembling fear in his features. Even Helaena turned her eyes full of anxiety to her older sister.

“Your Grace, I don't think….” Otto Hightower started, making a step toward them, but Aegon turned a cutting look to his grandfather and the Hand bowed and backed away.

As Sunfyre had already been prepared, it took the dragon keepers only a few moments to bring the beautiful golden beast up. “Kneel and swear fealty to me as your King and you live, sister!” Aegon said, once again calmer thanks to the assuring presence of his dragon, taking a few steps back up the stairs, away from Alaera and Sunfyre.

“I will not.”

“Sunfyre,” Aegon started in a loud voice and she saw Aemond's hand coming from behind to grab his right arm. Alaera slowly turned to Sunfyre to her back and raised her eyes to her brother's beast. Her instincts took over and she opened herself to the golden scaled dragon, pushing her thoughts toward him. “Ao gīmigon nyke, Sunfyre,” (you know me, Sunfyre). The dragon brought his snout closer to her and inhaled, taking her scent.

“Brother, don't!” she heard Aemond say, but Alaera ignored it as she did not dare break eye contact with the dragon about to burn her to ashes. She felt no animosity from him, not from his bodystance, nor from that place inside where they were starting to touch. “Gaomā daor jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon nyke,” (you do not want to hurt me) she continued to say without ever moving her lips. She felt she did not need to. No true words were needed now just as they had not been twenty years ago when she had found a golden hatchling in the depths of the pit and cradled him to her chest.

“Dracarys!” came Aegon's imperative voice and Alaera smiled at the dragon.

“Kesā daor zālagon nyke,” (you will not burn me) she continued to think and the dragon brought his snout down to her. She raised her right hand toward him and he pushed into it, welcoming her touch.

“Dracarys, Sunfyre!” Aegon screamed but no reaction came. “Dracarys!” Again, no flames appeared but Sunfyre looked toward his rider, as if questioning his reasoning. “What did you do to my dragon, you bitch?!?!” the newly crowned King howled at his elder sister. She couldn't even lie to herself and say she didn't enjoy the hysterical look in his eyes.

“You should have paid more attention to your dragon, little brother,” she said, turning toward him again. “Sunfyre has long missed your company…. unlike the young maids in the Red Keep, he actually wishes for it,” Alaera replied sweetly, a look of endearment to the quiet but exquisite golden dragon next to her.

“You fucking witch, I will have your head!” he screamed, springing down the steps two or three at a time. She did not move and expected to be hit in full when Aegon stopped just a couple of inches from her, his neck outstretched so that their faces were again too close for her liking. She saw Aemond behind him, restraining his brother.

He was straining to get out of the hold, but Aemond had more strength than his anger granted Aegon. “I should have cut you that time I found you with your breeches down, forcing yourself on an unwilling girl. You disgust me.” she said, calm and collected. “You are not my brother,” she added and turned her eyes from him.

“Ser Criston, bring me my sister's head!” he said, his gaze still glued to hers, not even looking toward the man who had just crowned him. She knew he hoped to see fear in her eyes or her demeanor, but she was not some cowering maiden so she stood her ground, back straight, defiant. She looked up the stairs where the new Lord Commander of the King's Guard, still next to the Queen, made a move of uncertainty, as if deliberating if he should comply. Aegon pulled himself from Aemonds grip and shrugged, composing himself. “Your King commands you!” he added, turning his head and his eyes to Ser Criston.

“My King, she…is your sister…” Cole said, his eyes on Alaera. Never her friend, never one to utter a kind word to her, but somehow he still had a shred of honor.

“She is a traitor! She will do everything to put her whore of a sister on the Iron Throne!” Aegon continued his tirade.

“My King,” the Hand intervened, “the Princess will be put in a cell and tried for her offenses, should you find some kindness in you to forgive her outburst today,” he pleaded for her life.

Alaera looked suspiciously at Otto Hightower, trying to understand his reasoning. The only motive she could find was that he was unwilling to commit outright violence that would push Rhaenyra, once she found out, into action. The fool still hoped to peacefully usurp her sister's throne. She almost burst into laughter: he truly did not understand Targaryen blood, even as it coursed through the veins of all his grandchildren. He still saw them all as instruments to be used in order for him to acquire more and more power. His lust for it would be his line's demise. She only hoped he would live to see it all unfold, as she knew it was already too late to stop it. The hatred in Aegon's eyes told all she needed to know.

“Kindness? She made my dragon….disobey me!” Aegon uttered through screeching teeth.

“Me? How could I have done such a thing?” Alaera asked, feigning innocence, but before she had closed her mouth she was struck so hard that her lip burst and she stumbled slightly. She saw Aemond spring toward her but then stop midway, straining to detain himself. She straightened herself right away, not wanting to give the usurper the satisfaction of seeing her down. Drawing her blood would have to suffice.

“Ser Criston, bring me her head! I will not say it again,” he added, trying to restrain himself.

“My King, submitting your own sister to a trial for treason would surely send a strong message to all those who might raise arms against you,” Criston Cole spoke, with a short look her way. Who would have thought, Rhaenyra's spurned lover defending her life?

“Husband, she is our sister,” Helaena said, stepping forward and grabbing Aegon's right hand. “She has loved us, read stories to us all of our childhood, she has taught us of our roots, of dragon riding, she has struggled to teach us High Valyrian…”

“Helaena, don't…” the dowager Queen tried to interrupt her daughter, coming closer to her and laying a hand on her shoulder. Helaena made a sudden move to draw herself out of her mother's touch without even looking at her, then continued her plea.

“She helped bring our children into the world, Aegon,” she said, bowing her head to her husband in hope of touching a sensitive cord of sibling love inside of him. Alaera felt her eyes sting with unshed tears for her amazing little sister now begging for her life to the monster she was married to. Didn't she know it was too late for Aegon? Their father's distancing and growing dislike of him had made too deep of a wound in him and no kindness resided there anymore. To prove her point, the newly anointed king pulled his right hand out of Helaena's and unsheathed his sword.

“Fine, I will do it myself,” he said, starting toward her.

“Do not touch her!” came the coldest of voices from behind Aegon. Aemond stepped slowly but decidedly in front of his older brother, shielding Alaera behind him.

“You too?” Aegon said, with a leer on his lips. “I should have known you had acquired a taste for older women,” he said, then made a move to go around Aemond and continue toward Alaera. She saw Aemond grab Aegon's left arm in a steel grip that stopped the shorter man from advancing. She watched him intently and although his back was to her, she noticed his stillness: not a hair of his silky mane moved for what seemed like long moments. When Aegon made a move to pull himself free, the one-eyed prince turned his face to speak to his brother. Though it wasn't loud, all around heard his words clearly.

“Touch her and you die.” There was no room for interpretation in his words. Aegon lifted his eyes to his younger brother.

“How dare you speak like that to your King, to your older brother?” he spat the words.

“Allow her to live and I will do all that you ask of me,” Aemond said and something broke inside Alaera. Of all their recent days and nights together, never did she feel his love more than in that moment. The breaking inside was their future being ripped from them. Not that she ever truly believed they had one. But he had convinced her to hope. That early morning a couple of days ago when they had said their vows in High Valyrian and tasted each other's blood had planted a seed of hope deep inside her.

“What did she do to you, little brother?” Aegon leered at her beloved. “Is she that good between the sheets? I should try her myself….” he went on but a whimper escaped him and she knew Aemond had squeezed his arm hard enough to bruise.

“She's my wife.” Aemond said loud enough for all to hear, then again to their brother. “NOT. ANOTHER. WORD. My King!” and then let go of Aegon, made the few steps to reach her and took her left hand in his right one. He stood proud, looking forward, with his back straight and his jaw thrust up.

“What?” came the voice of Allicent Hightower. “Aemond, what is the meaning of this?” his mother came next to Aegon.

“It was our father's wish and we respected it,” Aemond said.

“Is it true?” asked Alicent, her eyes shifting between Alaera and Aemond.

“If it is true,” Otto Hightower intervened, “it is a great opportunity, my King,” he said in his honeyed tongue. “To show the people that not even Princess Rhaenyra's own sister backs her claim, it would be gods sent!” Aegon was considering it, obviously. He was not stupid, after all.

“Is it true, Aemond?” Alicent insisted, grabbing Aemond's left arm. He only nodded curtly, his right hand squeezing Alaera's in a silent warning. They shortly gazed at each other and she knew he was pleading with her to go with it.

The dowager Queen lowered her head shaking it, but the Hand took over. “Was it already consummated?” he asked and his nephew turned his stone cold stare to him.

“I saw her coming out of his room at night,” Aegon intervened. “They've been fucking alright,” he said, smirking.

“Actually, not that night,” Alaera said, her tongue working without her, but a squeeze of her hand quieted her down. “Several times,” Aemond said, answering the Hand's question.

“You could already be with child?” Alicent asked Alaera and only then, under the scrutinizing eyes of her stepmother, did she realize she had completely forgotten in the whirlwind of the previous days to drink the moon tea. Or, for that matter, any of the other variations of it she had learned over the years.

“Little dragon red and green…” Alaera heard Helaena mumble under her breath.

Her head snapped to Aemond and he looked at her in turn, his glare probably just mirroring her shocked one. His hand once again squeezed hers in reassurance and she felt slightly relieved. What power did he still have over her when she knew quite well that, even with all the love binding them, they were already drifting away from each other.

“Well, not exactly what we had planned,” Otto Hightower started, “but an opportunity nonetheless!” he said, cheerfully, trying to alleviate the tension still running between the elder two siblings. The new King was still leering at his older sister who was now ignoring him as if he did not even exist. “Tonight, at the feast, we will celebrate a wedding too,” Otto announced.

“Let's see if you can keep your wife on a leash, little brother!” Aegon spat in their direction and left surrounded by his Kingsguard, still frustrated by the turn the proceeding had taken.

The carriage ride back to Keep passed in a haze for Alaera. So many thoughts were spinning in her head, but she couldn't concentrate on any of them. She needed to get out of King's Landing and she had missed her best chance. Chances. All because of her fucking principles. Hundreds had been hurt or killed and she was a prisoner. Well done, Alaera, she thought bitterly to herself. At least Rhaenyra would get the news, either from her messages or through Rhaenys and Ser Erryk Cargyll.

She looked outside the carriage that was transporting her together with the dowager Queen and her sister Helaena. Aemond rode proudly on a beautiful black steed, throwing short glances to the carriage every once in a while. Aegon flew above them on Sunfyre, delighting in the attention and admiration of the smallfolk. People were cheering on the sides of the streets. For whom, she wondered. Didn't they know how many of them lay wounded on the floor of the Dragonpit, how many had already died there just a little while ago? Didn't they know what kind of man now flew on his golden dragon above the city? Had they any idea about the war looming from across the Blackwater Bay? Were they ready for the coming storm that would rain fire and blood upon them all?

Chapter Text

Aemond rode uncertain of the future. Alaera had just declared herself full heartedly and unequivocally for Rhaenyra and Aegon had tried to execute her, by dragonfire no less. His hope for a future with her were crumpling to dust and not even riding the biggest dragon in the world could keep his wife by his side.

He slid off his horse and opened the door to the carriage, then helped his mother and his sister Helaena descend. Aemond looked at Alaera, still sitting ashen in the back of the carriage, face turned to the window next to her, shoulders downfallen, her entire being expressing sorrow and despair. He did not say a word and waited for her to look up at him. When she finally did, he stretched his right hand toward her, offering to sustain her while climbing down. Not that she needed it. Not his fierce Alaera. Aemond's heart skipped a beat when she looked at him, truly looking, her sky blue eyes fixed to his. He would have given ten years of his life to be able to read her thoughts in that instant. The feel of her hand in his was like coming home, like being warm when on the point of freezing to death. He delighted in the feel for those short moments until she was standing next to him.

Side by side, they ascended to the top of the hill where just three days ago he had sworn himself to her. Everything was now prepared for the ceremony honoring their father, the late King Viserys. Dreamfyre, Helaena's dragon, had been brought too and, after a short wait, the newly anointed King, their brother Aegon landed on his beautiful golden beast, Sunfyre. Words were said, both by his grandfather the Hand and by the High Septon. Aemond noticed Helaena moving closer, one small step at the time, to Alaera's other side from him. Her eyes were pointed forward, to the pyre where the body of their late sire had been laid. He then noticed Helaena take Alaera's right hand and he took her right, the three of them standing now shoulder to shoulder, united for a moment in time. Aegon was a few steps away from them, a bit jittery, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in impatience, his eyes fleeting between his dragon, the town and the sea. He did not want to be there and had no problem showing it.

When the time came, Aemond watched as Aegon made a few steps toward the pyre and opened his mouth, but closed it and threw a poisoned look at Alaera. He steeled himself and said loudly, “Sunfyre, dracarys!” This time the dragon did as instructed and incinerated the last remains of the one who had been Viserys Targaryen.

Later, when the sun was already starting its descent and the pyre had collapsed in a pile of burning wood, when no shape was visible on top of it anymore, Aegon turned in impatience and basically signaled the ceremony had come at an end. Aemond noticed Alaera's hand being pulled from his and turned to see Helaena watching her older sister intently. “Come, sister, it's been too long since I've ridden Dreamfyre!” Alaera turned her eyes to him and he thought he saw uncertainty there. She started to open her mouth to say something, when Aegon interrupted them.

“You can do as you please, my Queen, but our devoted sister will stay with her husband!” their newly anointed king decreed, leaving no room for interpretation. Aegon looked directly at him, completely ignoring his sister-wife and added, “If you want to fuck her on Vhagar, have at it. But let's not drop her on Dragonstone,” he said, winking at him and then walking away. “Not alive, anyway!” Aegon added, over his shoulder.

Alaera pulled her hand free and kissed Helaena's forehead. “Go, sweetheart. Don't let Dreamfyre miss you even more. I will see you later!” The young Queen nodded with regret, squeezed her older sister's hand and left them alone.

The ride back to the Red Keep was uneventful. Helaena had taken Dreamfyre to the skies, but went in a different direction to Aegon and Sunfyre. He knew there was a rift there, but as they had never been a true love match, Aemond was not surprised to see their marriage deteriorating. He promised himself to do his utmost to save some of his to Alaera.

The carriage now carrying his wife and his mother was slow so that, by the time they arrived at the keep, Aegon was also descending from a gorgeous white steed, having returned from the Dragonpit.

“LIttle brother!” he said, approaching just as he was about to say something to Alaera. “I'll see you two lovebirds at the feast. There'll be a small ceremony at the end,” he said, indicating just how important their union was to him, then made a few steps away but stopped and turned back to him. “Keep your wife on a tight leash, if you don't want me to do it myself,” their new king said and Aemond recognized the not so veiled threat.

They walked the halls in silence. “I'll arrange for your belongings to be moved to Aemond's room,” the dowager Queen said with resignation in her voice, a disapproving look evident in her eyes.

“Thank you, but it will not be necessary. I grew up in that room, it will continue to be my room. But Aemond is welcomed to join me there, should he want to,” Alaera added on an afterthought, but he did not find her tone at all inviting.

She proceeded to enter her room without closing the door. He followed and saw her demeanor change at once: her head lowered to her chest, her back no longer straight, shoulders fallen inward…. Her sadness permeated through the sudden change in posture.

He walked around to face her and allowed himself to truly see her for the first time since the Dragonpit: her lower lip was bloodied and swollen, but at least not bleeding anymore. A big red mark was visible on her left lower cheek and jaw next to the burst lip. Anger emerged anew inside of him but he kept in check, knowing full well nothing good would come of letting it out now. She was not the one who would pay for this day. But he did keep count and never forgot insults.

Aemond waited until she lifted her beautiful eyes to him and tried his best to interpret what he saw there. Hopelessness was obvious, he expected it. He knew full well everything today had gone completely opposite to what she would have wanted. He made another step toward her, offering to comfort her. She stood unsure, holding herself back, but after long moments Alaera covered herself the last inches left between their bodies and succumbed to his embrace. He loved the feel of her body melded into his, her arms around his waist, her hands on his back, pulling him closer. That pull melted him whole. He did no delude himself that she might need him but he lived and breathed to feel her wanting and accepting him.

He was so glad of their unexpected closeness that he barely noticed her small whimper of pain. He almost jumped away from her and started to inspect her closely. She understood his meaning and undid the high collar of her coat so that he could see the dark purple bruise that marked her neck all from side to side. “What the fu…?” he started but she continued to undress and uncovered a big blue-purple swelling on her right side, over her lower ribs. “Alaera…” he mumbled but she just shook her head. When her trousers came down her right thigh looked just as bad as her ribs. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, trying to calm the fiery anger rising inside of him.

“Who did this to you?” he asked with bbarely restrained anger in his voice. To better suprrss it, he took her face gently in his hands, gaze burrowing into hers.

“No one,” she started with a shrug. “He's dead,” she corrected herself and closed her eyes, another sign of her trust in him. At least physically, she trusted him. To hold her, to embrace her, to never hurt her.

“The night I let you go alone in the city?” he asked, already blaming himself for all that might have happened to her. For all that had already happened while he had slept in his bed.

“It was not the first time…” she said matter of fact and he wanted to howl but withheld his animal reaction. “I … underestimated the situation,” she explained, not knowing the fury raging inside him. Better that way, he thought. She should not be reminded of his sometimes impulsive nature.

“Never again, promise!” he said and she smiled but it was a bitter smile.

“I can not,” she replied, resigned. “But I know my knives well, Aemond,” she said, pointing with her head to the many weapons she had removed with her clothes. She turned and went to the bathing chamber where a fresh warm bath had already been prepared for her. She grunted a bit as she lowered herself in the water and he followed her, sitting next to the tub, unable to leave her presence. A comfortable silence enveloped them both and he enjoyed it. In the stillness he could pretend all was well, that the events of the past three days had not occurred, that they were just bound and hopeful for their future. But had she really been that? Looking back, she had given herself to him with such intense abandon that he now suspected it had been her way of seizing a moment she did not believe could truly last. The thought hurt him more than any of his many sword training injuries had. Almost as much as his missing eye.

“You left…. me. Again.” Aemond said, almost forcing the words. Her eyes showed no remorse, only sadness.

“It is who I am, I guess.” Alaera said, no taking her eyes from him. He sensed some regret in her tone, but she did not shy away from responsibility, at least. “I choose to act even should it take me away from what I love. Rhaenyra, just like everyone of us, deserves to know her father has died. No matter what faults she has, she should know she has lost her only parent,” she continued and, for all his animosity for the whore, he understood Alaera's reasoning. He would kill anyone who would hide from him the news of something, anything, happening to his mother.

“Were you ever coming back?” he asked after some time, a little bit of hope almost choking him. Did he really want to know?

“To be a prisoner? To be forced to marry Tyland Lannister or…” she asked but he interrupted.

“To be with me!” he said with pained conviction.

“I've been alone all my life,” she started, avoiding the intensity of his words.

“Not anymore. Never again. As long as I live.” He noticed the change in her eyes at his words. He believed them even if she might not. Aemond knew she could not abandon her beliefs and support Aegon's rule, but he was certain he could find a way. If only she'd believe in him enough, if only she'd stay by his side, he could do it all.

He was mesmerized by her eyes, by the molting lava coursing underneath her skin. He knew it already, from their few nights together, from that last one of total giving to one another. He knew what hid behind the growing black of her eyes. It was her way of showing her love even if she was probably already planning her escape. He disrobed with her eyes never leaving his, not even when he dropped his breeches and remained bare, already halfway hard. All he needed was her gaze on his and he was ready and willing. He could ignore all the ways she favored the blacks if only she looked at him with that exquisite mix of love and lust in her eyes. She drew her knees to her chest and made space for him in the tub. He lowered himself in the water, not even noticing that it was already much cooler than the scolding hot he preferred. He was trying to find place for his long legs when she slowly stood and straddled him.

“You're hurt…” he said as she was gradually bringing her mouth to his.

“I don't care,” she said and brushed her lips to his.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he said, drawing his head back from her.

“This is not how you'll hurt me, Aemond,” she said with conviction and took his lips in a passionate kiss, her hands making their way from his shoulder to his neck and his hair. He was already intoxicated by her closeness, by the feeling of her warm breath on his skin, by the taste of her mouth, by the way her nipples perked in contact with his chest, by the friction between her sex brushing against his. He instinctively enveloped her in his arms and brought her even closer to him but her wince made him stop, open his eye and raise his hands away from her body. “Don't worry,” she said softly, kissing his cheek. She guided his hands still frozen in the air to lie on the edges of the tub, then traced her fingers over his skin lazily up to his arms and shoulders, then down his chest. Her eyes were concentrated on his, while she placed a few soft kisses on the corner of his mouth, on his scar, removed his eyepatch and kissed above his missing eye. He could not take his gaze from her. How could this perfect woman want him, love him? There was so little in him good and worthy of her.

When she started slowly moving above him all coherent thought left him. He noticed her reach between their bodies to guide him inside her and lower herself on his shaft. He delighted in the way her eyes closed as pleasure invaded them both. His hands grabbed the edge of the tub with all his strength, doing his absolute best not to take her in his arms again, to fight against his innermost wish to bring her so close to him that she would become a part of him, to mold her to him so that she could never leave him again. He controlled himself just enough to be able to watch her and to allow her to set the pace, the deepness of the strokes. Her eyes stayed on his, barely interrupted by a few kisses, supporting herself on his shoulders. Her breasts constantly brushing against his chest only added to the intensifying friction between them and sunk him into an abyss of pleasure he never wanted to emerge from. When her body constricted around him and her breath became ragged, he allowed himself to meet her with a few movements of his pelvis only to then release his hold on himself and follow her over the edge into uncharted waves of ecstasy.

This was happiness in its purest form and Aemond never wanted to leave this moment. But in the aftermath it felt ominous. It felt like goodbye, like she was shutting everything else out for just an instant to allow them both one more taste of what their lives could have been like.

They stayed like that, Alaera straddling Aemond, collapsed against him, her head in the crook of his neck, his nose buried in her hair, placing soft kisses on each other's neck every once in a while. When the water turned cold and she started trembling, he helped her out and wiped her body, placing the lightest of kisses where her body was bruised.

He first went to his room for some fresh clothes and then searched her closet, choosing the dress with the highest collar he could find, a gorgeous red one that would make her look like the Targaryen queen she was meant to be. His queen. She was lying in bed naked and all he wanted was to stretch his body next to hers until the world would force him away. And even afterwards. When he brought her the dress, she just shook her head in denial, but she stood and took the white shirt still hanging from one of his shoulders and put it on. Seeing her wearing his shift that barely covered her behind melted some deep place inside and he smiled like a fool. But another thought stole his moment of joy.

“Would you have gone with Helaena?” he asked then, unable to hold his tongue.

“Do not ask questions you already know the answers to, Aemond. I do not want to hurt you….I love you,” she said, pulling the cover over herself.

“But not enough to stay,” he said, realizing that, even were all his secret dreams to come true, it would still be naught without her.

“Aegon cannot be king. He has no knowledge of ruling, no understanding of the people, no compassion, no moral compass, no empathy.” She halted, probably hoping for his approval, but he simply waited for that steel inside her to come out, as he knew it would. He needed to know her mind, not just deduce and wonder. And Alaera did not disappoint him. “I will never stop, as long as I live, Aemond!” she said and he knew that whenever his brother would fall, she would be there, that only then would she lay down her sword.

“And your whore of a sister does?” Aemond replied without thinking and knew at once he had stepped wrong.

“She's a whore…why, because she searched for love with three men? I shared my body with more women than that… even if I only loved one of them. But that doesn't matter, does it? Men will never accept that women have the right to bed whoever they want,” she said with a wry smile. “I enjoy my body, Aemond. I like the kisses, the touches, the buildup, the body parts coming together, I like coming and making others come. And as big a whore as I am, you say you love me. You certainly enjoy fucking me.” He could not believe his ears, the way she simplified all that was happening between them. As if her body had made him love her and not the thousand little moments beyond when she had made him feel seen and understood. Yes, things had shifted when his voice had changed and his thoughts full of lust had turned to her in his dark hours, lonely in his bed, touching himself.

“Her bastard would follow her on the Iron Throne, instead of true born Targaryens!” he said, holding his frustration in check.

“They were carried for nine months by a Targaryen. They were birthed with great pains by a Targaryen. Dragons were born and bonded to them,” she said and her tone became stronger and stronger. “Why does the mother mean less than the father?” She was a Targaryen woman who did not appreciate being considered less than a man. He was left without answer for he did respect and love his mother much more than he ever did his father. Then again, it had been his father's approval he had yearned for all his life. Maybe that is why he had grown looking up at his father's second child, the one the King seemed to actually respect, enough to even allow her to choose her own way in life, a wayward daughter he had always received with open arms even if she had never done as she had been told.

“They would be closer to the throne than me!” he said, his voice low, but earnest.

“There it is, your pride! It shall be your downfall, my love!” she said, with so much sadness it made him stop and lose himself in her eyes.

“Might be, but I will not have those who've maimed me take seats of power!” he said, revealing the wound still festering deep inside him.

She stood from the bed and came to him, enveloped him in her arms and kissed him softly. “I had hoped, Aemond, that you had found purchase from all this pain…. I am sorry,” she said in his ear, raised on the tips of her toes to be at the same level as him. “ I really wanted to believe that you would not let hate and revenge rule you. You could be so much more than that…”

“I will be, with you by my side!” he said, pulling his head away to look at her again, to try to convince her with his gaze of the truth of his words.

“Not if you stand by Aegon's side,” she shook her head. “You will simply be the enforcer of his hate…and yours, it seems!” she added, disappointed. “And I will not stand by and watch you darken that heart I love so dearly,” she added, taking a few steps away from him.

With his stare wide in shock at her words and her physically distancing herself from him, Aemond barely heard the door opening behind him and the steps approaching him from behind

“Here you were, lovebirds!” Aegon said. “Already working hard to give me a nephew?” he asked, cheerful. Aemond snapped out of his frozen state to see his brother come next to him and appraise Alaera from head to toe. She did not cower under his eyes, but stood proud even if his shirt was barely covering her sex and was only laced to the middle of her torso, leaving her breasts partially exposed in the front. “Sweet sister, I finally see what you've been hiding under all those dresses and riding clothes for so long,” he said, circling her, his tone bringing Aemond's blood to boiling.

“Aegon, let's go….” he started, trying to distract the king.

“Brother, I did not know you had it in you!” Aegon exclaimed mischievously, his eyes roaming on Alaera's naked skin, stopping on the big dark bruise on her thigh. “Choking too?” he asked, turning Alaera's chin up to better inspect the bruise around her neck. “Or do you like it rough, sister? If so, just tell me! I could show you some things I'm sure dear Aemond still hasn't mastered yet,” he said, his face now closer to hers.

“You couldn't even if you tried,” she said, their lips close enough to breathe the same air.

“I could prove it to you, if you insist, sister!” he said and Aemond noted the threat in his voice. Aegon was too close to Alaera for his taste, but he restrained himself rather than worsen the situation. She stood her ground, not flinching which gave more gravitas to her following blow.

“You wouldn't be able to get it up to me, Aegon!” She said and their brother's eyes widened, showing his growing rage.

Aemond prepared himself to jump in in case Aegon would make a move to strike her again. “You know why?” she asked in a soft voice. “Because that little boy who came to my bed night after night for just one more story is still in there,” she said, laying her hand on their brother's chest, “and he still loves me. That sweet boy who was jealous when his little sister joined in, so much so that he constantly pushed her out of my bed… that little boy I loved so much...I mourn him every time I look at you,” she said with pain and regret coating her voice. Aegon's eyes were slightly glazed and this time not from too much wine. He was truly shaken by her words. “But you, Aegon, you actually think you are still entitled to that loving older sister you had.”

Aemond watched them both with no idea what might happen: would Aegon hit her again or would Alaera take him in her arms? They faced each other in perfect stillness for long moments and he did not expect to hear Aegon say, “I'll show you just how much I love you, sister. Soon.” his voice dead serious. “But not today! Don't make me send the guards to drag you to the feast,” he said, cheerfully right after, then started toward the door. “And do put something on, I wouldn't want my court to find out yet another sister of mine is a harlot!” he said and winked, then left the room.

Aemond stood unmoving, clenching and unclenching his fists, something he found himself doing more and more over the past couple of days. He left to get dressed for the feast and, when he came back, he was met with the most stunning vision: almost as tall as he was, silver white hair braided on the top half and flowing in big curls down to the middle of her back, clear blue eyes - the only unusual Targaryen trait, just like the Good Queen Alysanne and her mother, Queen Aemma - animated with intelligence, slender body with beautiful curves inviting to be caressed, poised stance accentuated by her deep red dress, with its long sleeves and high collar, snug on her upper body then gradually flaring over her hips and her legs, with black dragons intricately stitched on the collar, down the front and also on the hem. She was the embodiment of all he admired and loved. A beautiful mind in a beautiful body.

They walked side by side to the great hall, now decorated with green and golden three-headed dragons. Aegon stood already at the middle of the long table on the dais, between their grandfather, who would continue in his function as Hand to the King, and their mother, the dowager Queen. Next to Otto Hightower were seated the other members of the Small Council, the Grand Maester, Jason Lannister and Jasper Wylde. Helaena sat next to her mother, playing with the cutlery, avoiding any eye contact. Alaera took the seat next to Helaena and Aemond followed. He tried to pay attention to all those present, to wean out looks with hidden meanings and intentions, but all his senses were attuned to his right where his sister-wife sat quiet, only sometimes exchanging a few words with Helaena. The Hand said words of praise for their newly anointed King and few for his father before him, followed by lots of cheering from the lords and ladies present at the festivities, but to Aemond it all seemed hollow, wrong even.

He was disgusted by his brother's behavior, already drowning in his cups, grabbing serving girls and even eyeing some high born ladies. When Helaena left to put her children to sleep, Alaera stood to follow but their brother saw her and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him.

“Not so fast, sister!” he said. “You'll have your moment later,” he added, winking, and led her almost gentlemanly back to her seat next to Aemond, then pushed her shoulders to make her sit down. He bowed and said to her ear, smirking “I do hope you've said goodbye to that old slut of our sister. Not like I'll ever let you see her and her bastards again!”

“If she's a slut, so am I, but you surpass us both by far, Aegon!” she said, snorting, and Aemond took a deep breath. This night would not end well. Who would have thought that such animosity could exist between Aegon and Alaera? He wondered. Well, truth be told, his mother had warned him that Alaera had not said a word to Aegon in years. Stil, he did not expect…this.

“I'm a man, I'm allowed to do whatever I want, unlike you bitches,” he said smiling, to her ear.

“Brother!” Aemond intervened, but Alaera had already loosened her mischievous tongue.

“You're a spoiled brat who thinks dipping his wick is all that's needed to be called a man!” she replied and a smile appeared on her exquisite features, for the hall to only see to loving siblings exchanging words.

“Do enlighten me, sister, what does make one a man in your eyes? Tell me, how did little Aemond here get you to spread your legs?” he asked, and Aemond stood, turning to his brother. He had had enough of the insults the sack of wine was throwing at his wife. Alaera then turned her eyes to him, but talked to their asshole brother.

“Quite simple. Even when I was on my knees in front of him, he would ask for permission,” she said and something trembled deep inside his chest. She then turned her beautiful eyes up to the man behind her. “You should try it sometime. Maybe some would actually want you, for once.” As hard as she sometimes made it, he did love her wicked sarcasm.

“Only what I want matters, sister. You will learn!” he said and circled her throat with his right hand. Aemond grabbed his left arm and whispered, “Hand. Off. Her.” and Aegon took her hand from Alaera's neck. “Soon,” the King added and left them both to wonder what kind of revenge he was plotting.

“What are you doing, Alaera?” Aemond asked, after sitting back down. She said nothing, ignoring him. “Why are you provoking him?”

“I'm doing what I should have done long ago,” she replied, not even looking at him.

“It is too late, accept it and move on!” he said, covering her left hand with his on the table.

“Ziry gaomas daor gūrogon naejot sit se Targārien dēmalion!” (He does not deserve to sit the Targaryen throne!) Alaera said, with anger restrained in her tone, and a glimmer of hope bloomed in Aemond. Maybe now was the time to tell her. Maybe, just maybe, she would understand his barely forming plan and help him achieve it with as little bloodshed as possible.

“Kessa daor,” (He won't) he said, quietly, so no one else could overhear. “Daor syt bōsa!” (Not for long!) he added, and saw her face turn to him in astonishment.

“Skoros...?” (What…?) she managed to stammer.

“Daor kesīr,” (Not here) he said, watching those around them, aware of every possible ear turned to their barely breathed conversation. She made a move to turn to him, probably to ask more, but their brother announced it was time for their wedding ceremony. Several “oohs” and “aahs” were heard around the hall, but the two of them were still caught in their own exchange.
He stood and donned the Targaryen traditional black mantle, then offered her his right hand, his gaze imploring her to follow through so they might then be allowed to leave this farce of a feast. She laid her left hand in his and he clutched it like his life depended on it, and maybe, after tonight, it really would.

They descended in front of the big table and the High Septon said the words, which they barely heard. None of them truly cared for the marriage vows in the faith of the Seven when they had voluntarily said the Valyrian ones. He placed on her shoulders the heavy black cloak with the red three-headed dragon embroidered into it and it felt strange. She had been a Targaryen longer than him, she had been the one to teach him so much about the blood of the dragon, about their history and their forebears, it had been as if she had given him a sense of Targaryen meaning and purpose. To now place the cloak of the Targaryens on her back in a sign of inclusion and protection was almost an insult to the dragon she had always been.

But he doubted the same thoughts were now crossing her mind. Alaera was most certainly trying to discern the meaning of his earlier words and he dreaded the strong possibility that she thought him inclined to help her bring Rhaenyra on the throne. Which he would never do, as long as blood still flowed through his body. He now dreaded the moment they would be once again alone and she would await an explanation. “I am hers and she is mine,” he said and believed it with all his strength.

“I am his and he is mine,” Alaera said, her eyes glistening, never leaving his, and he wondered if she truly believed it. And for how long.

The High Septon confirmed them to be one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. That same moment Aemond heard Aegon snicker and a worm of doubt penetrated through his calm demeanor. His brother was definitely planning something and he hated not knowing what.

“And now we shall have a bedding ceremony!” Aegon said out loud and many guests cheered, several men even stood to take part in the procession supposed to accompany and undress the bride.

“Aegon, I do not think…” their mother said, but not very loudly. Her deep faith in the Seven made such custom shameful to her.

“There will be no bedding ceremony!” Aemond stood and announced. “My King will have surely noticed my wife is unwell and will therefore accept our wish to retire quietly to our room!” he said loudly and inclined his head minimally. Alaera took his extended hand and they exited the hall, with not even a look for the gathering.

Once in the apparent safety and privacy of his room, Alaera turned to him and crossed her arms under her chest. He knew she was waiting for him to clarify what he had alluded to earlier. He took a moment and simply admired her: elegant, self confident, tenacious, intelligent, resourceful, passionate, kind, loving. She was a true Queen even if she did not know it. Yet.

She gave him the time to organize his thoughts and he was thankful for it. He approached her and stopped only an arm length away. “You said Aegon does not deserve to sit the Iron Throne. And I fully agree,” he said, then paused and took her hands in his.” But we do!” Aemond said full of conviction and watched as bewilderment appeared on her face.

Chapter Text

Aemond Targaryen regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. Even when he believed them to be true. They were the ones truly meant to rule. Him in power and strength, her in compassion and fairness.

“What?” was all that Alaera said, her beautiful eyes wide with shock. He had barely dared to form the thoughts in his own mind. To now utter them to the one person he knew would fight tooth and nail against their meaning, the same only person he craved to have by his side in this endeavor, was madness.

“You and I, on the throne, ruling together. We were born for it, Alaera!”

“And what about all the others who are entitled to it or at least think they are?” she asked.

“They will have to accept our rule,” he said, full of confidence.

“And if they will not?” she asked, baiting him to say exactly what was on his mind.

“Then we will rain…” he started but was interrupted.

“Do not say `fire and blood´, Aemond. I will not burn the realm to put you on the throne!”

“Us!” he corrected, taking her hands in his.

“No, Aemond! You want to sit the throne and for me to quietly stand next to it and to gladly fuck you after you've…what do you plan exactly? To kill my entire family? All those I hold love for?” she asked, pulling her hands out of his. “Tell me, husband,” she said, coming so close to him that their breaths mingled. “How do you plan to kill our siblings? For none of them will give the throne up!”

“I do not plan to kill them myself. Aegon drinks to the extreme… should he happen to be in a difficult situation, I would simply withhold my help,” he said and she exhaled deeply in disbelief.

“And my sister, the true heir to the throne? And her sons?” she countered.

“Her bastards will not sit the Throne!” he exclaimed, at once losing his grip on that deep anger that never truly left him, just lay dormant as long as no Strong bastard disguised in Velaryon blue was around.

“I can't believe it!” she exclaimed and turned from him, shaking her head. “I married a maimed boy full of hate and thirst for revenge, not a healed man capable of seeing what's right in front of him!”

“I see you, Alaera. I want you! But I am made for this. I am the heir father waited for. This is my trial, my time to prove myself and take what I was born to have!” he said and watched her cover her mouth with her hand. He approached her again and put his hand above her left hip, avoiding her bruised right side, then slowly pulled her to him. “Your compassion and your kindness, my strength and my drive…we are the perfect match, Alaera! You know it! We fit in every possible way, we complete each other,” he said and took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, then placed her hand on his chest. “You make me better,” he said and brushed his lips to hers, then tasted her with his tongue, slowly and patiently coaxing her to respond in kind, which she did. For a few moments he dared to hope. Until she pulled herself away from his arms in an obvious effort.

“You cannot hope to ascend the throne without bloodshed. Targaryen bloodshed, Aemond!” she said, almost hysterically. “What about Helaena's children? Aegon's heirs? What do you plan to do to them? How would you remove them from the succession, uncle Aemond?” she asked, eyes still wide with fear of his not so hidden intentions. Did she actually think him capable of killing Helaena's babes? Didn't she know him at all by now? But was he truly incapable of such a feat, if it meant he would sit the Iron Throne? Could he be the monster she now feared he might be? Where would he stop in his quest for absolute power?

He made a step toward her but saw he stiffen at his approach and halted. “I think Helaena could be impressed upon to give up her children's rights in exchange for their security,” he said and her outburst of dry laugh threw him off balance.

“Who do you think you're speaking to? I am no fool. A living pretender invites rebellion and war! Let alone two!” she said and came closer to him, until her face was just a breath from his. “And you are no fool, either, Aemond!”

“Then we will marry them to our children and strengthen the family,” he offered as a solution, but deep down knew she would not appreciate it.

“Our children,” she said and he thought he could see a volcano start to rise behind her blue eyes. “What makes you assume I could ever be prevailed upon to have children with you, Aemond?”

“Because you love me. Maybe not as much as I love you, but you do. Maybe that's why you're still here. Why you haven't taken your moon tea,” he said and he knew he had struck true. He saw it in the strain of her jaw. She was tempted to contradict him but she was no liar and would not deny her feelings.

“Much has happened over the past couple of days and it…escaped my mind,” she said, her eyes drifting to the side. He thought there might be some regret there but he chose to ignore it. She fixed her sky blue gaze upon him again and came once again closer to him. “Trust me, Aemond, I will never bring a child into this family!” she said and he knew she spoke true.

“Not even to keep the peace?” he asked.

“A peace to end a war of your making? Because you cannot see either Rhaenyra or Aegon on the throne?” she retorted, turning from him.

“They are not worthy of it!” he exploded.

“And who is? Beside you, that is!” she asked, with a snicker, raising her hands in the air.

“You!” he answered, breathing deeply to control his outburst.

“But only because I married you, isn't it?” she asked with faked sweetness and he saw her cunning seep through. She read him so well. “I was born ten years before you, Aemond. The King's and the Queen's second daughter,” she said simply, approaching him again. What makes me unworthy in my own right, little brother?” she asked, turning her chin up in defiance.

He refused to step up to her challenge. The answer was on his lips, but he already feared losing her. Saying this simple truth would only push her farther away from him. His face was turned down, head shaking, eye closed, trying to somehow shut out everything, hoping that when he opened it again, all would be different. That maybe the past hour would simply be erased and he would have another chance. He then felt her warmth even closer, her breath on his face. He opened his eye, steeling himself for the hate he would probably meet in her gaze. There was only challenge there. “Say it,” she whispered. “Let me see the true you, Aemond. Let me meet the one I took to husband!” she said, face angled to his, just an inch between them.

“You are a woman,” he said but did not expect her reply.

“And you only exist because a woman was strong enough to endure uninvited attentions and to push you out into the world, Aemond,” she said in a deeply disappointed tone, then her voice turned to ice. “Have some fucking respect!” She then turned from him and started toward the secret door.

He knew he was losing her and a cold desperation took hold of him. “You owe me a life!” The words were out before he truly thought them. But she stopped and slowly turned to him, her eyes drawn in slits, suspicion more than clear.

“What?” she said, her stone cold stare chilling him to the bone.

“I saved your life today,” he said, as securely as he managed. She gave no sign of agreeing or disagreeing with his affirmation, so he continued. At least she wasn't leaving. “Aegon would have decapitated you himself,” he added.

“Do you actually think I would have stretched my neck for him?” she asked with venom in her voice. She made a few slow steps toward him as she spoke. “I would have drawn my sword and I doubt that he would still be alive if he would have struck.”

“Maybe. But then the King's Guard would have killed you for it,” he said and saw her evaluate his words.

“Then all the more fool you. If you wouldn't have stopped him, you'd probably be the usurper now! Widowed, but so much closer to the throne,” she shrugged, taunting him.

“You live because of me, Alaera!” he said, taking a step toward her.

“And now I understand exactly why!” she said, exasperated, most probably alluding to his plan. He was desperate to make her stay somehow. He knew he had failed to convince her to help his plans and rule by his side. She had unmasked his belief in male superiority and right to rule over women, the contrary of which had always been at the core of her beliefs. He had misstepped and had to now resort to extortion.

“You. Owe ME. A life, Alaera!” he said menacingly.

“You cannot expect me to kill my sister for your benefit, beloved husband,” she said, mocking him. He ignored her jab and came closer to her, straightening his back to get a bit more height over her.

“Not that kind of life, wife!” he said, his mouth close enough to hers to almost taste her. He then lowered his gaze to her lips and saw them part in understanding and shock. When he returned to her blue eyes, they were wider than he had ever seen them.

To his surprise, she recovered fast. “So this is what you call love,” she said, disbelief coating her voice, and something inside him broke. He knew he was losing her love, her consideration and her respect. He felt as if pieces of him were dying with her every move, working to loosen the strings tying her dress, but could not stop her. He needed to have her even if he'd lost her love.

She dropped her clothes in a swift move leaving only a thin shift on and he knew there was only rage and defiance in her right now. She wanted to be free to rejoin her sister but, being incapable of letting her go, he had forced her into a marriage she had only halfheartedly agreed to a few days prior.

“Alaera…” he said, hesitation obvious in his voice. He hated feeling once again the insecure little prince with no dragon surrounded by five dragon riding siblings.

“You have only one chance, husband. I suggest you make the most of it!” she said and he almost felt hate in the word “husband”. Where had all the love she had displayed just a few nights ago gone? All because the gods had deemed their whore of a sister be born first and blind their father to all of her shortcomings?

“One chance, wife? I will have you as many times as I want,” he said, disguising his fear into dominance. He drew closer until their breaths mingled, his lavendel eye fixed upon her angry blue ones. He then lowered it to her lips, still lush even though drawn thinner by the tension in her face.

A sardonic laugh came out of her at his words. He had to admit to himself, a part of him liked the fire in her, her defiant attitude, her challenging him. So he raised his hands to her face, caressed it gently from temple over her cheeks, then his right thumb stopped on her lips and drew their shape while his left hand continued to trail downwards over her right arm all the way to her hand. When he bowed his head and softly exhaled, he saw her already perking nipples and allowed a satisfied smile to curl his lips. He traces his fingers ove her right shoulder, slowly descending over her collarbone and to her right breast, while again looking into her eyes.

“You seem to enjoy that thought, wife,” he said and, to his surprise, she opened her mouth and he advanced his finger inside. She captured it and sucked on it, never breaking eye contact with him. He felt his manhood hardening so much that his pants were difficult to tolerate. He wasn't the only one to notice his discomfort, he knew the moment she moved her right hand to his crotch, at first barely brushing against it. Then, at the same time, she grabbed him in an exquisite move and bit the finger in her mouth. He felt an explosion of pleasure mixed with pain and all reason seemed to leave his mind. He let his head fall back, eye closed, and simply enjoyed the feel of her hand around him, moving in swift strokes, bringing him closer to coming way too fast. She stopped at once and laughed wickedly.

“Not so fast, husband,” she said, her tone mocking as he had never heard her talk to him. “Coming in your pants will not give you the heir you require of me,” she added with a fast look to his swollen crotch.

“A life for a life, don't you find that fair, sweet wife of mine?” he provoked her in his deepest voice and pushed the thin shift still barely covering her down over her shoulders. He then circled her, his eye moving all over her naked body, admiring her from head to toe several times, drawing deep breaths to calm his rushing blood. He wanted to make this memorable for the both of them, to show her all he could offer her if she'd just deign to stay with him. He knew deep down he couldn't force her, he couldn't truly lock Alaera Targaryen anywhere in the castle she grew up in, for she would eventually escape. But maybe, just maybe, he could make her as addicted to him as he knew himself to be to her.

So he stopped in front of her again, gaze locked to hers, watching her every reaction. “Tell me you do not want me, Alaera, and I will stop,” he said softly and waited long moments for her to reject him. “Hmmm,” he hummed and started caressing her again, first her face, down to her shoulders. He then lazily drew his fingers over her back, from her shoulder blades down to her posterior, then again back up and down again over her spine. He felt her breath come a bit faster now and noticed the black of her eyes growing slightly. He knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, but damn him if he was going to let her off easy. She was threatening him to never allow him so close again, so he would make sure to bring her to the precipice as often and for as long as he could. She would never forget this “last” time and she would come back for more, if he had anything to say about it.

“Having fun yet, wife?” Aemond lowered his lips to her jaw, then trailed kisses downwards, insisting on the bruises around her neck. His left hand started to caress her right breast, to knead it softly then rolled her nipple between his thumb and second finger. His right hand dropped to her flat stomach and stopped over her mound, then with his forefinger and middle one traced the soft lips of her sex, back and forth several times.

“Look at me, Alaera!” he said imperatively, cupping the back of her neck with his left hand and angling her face up to him, their lips almost brushing. She did and the fire he saw reflected there almost broke him. He knew it was for him more than it had been for anyone else in her life, he had sensed it in every time they had shared their bodies with each other, in the way she had given herself to him with less and less reserve every time. He couldn't stand the thought that this might be their last time. Neither the Seven under whose eyes they had married an hour ago nor the gods of Old Valyria who had witnessed their promises less than a fortnight ago could be so cruel as to make his dream come true only to snatch it right away. Who would he be without her love?

He pushed his fingers past her outer folds and he was met with so much heat pooled there. “Is that all for me, wife?” he asked and dropped his mouth over hers at the same time as his fingers found her already hardened bud and started making circular movements around it alternating with putting pressure directly on it. She whimpered in his mouth and he took the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue, to explore it at leisure and stroke her tongue with his. His left hand encircled her torso drawing her even more to him and he was elated when he felt her become heavier in his arm, her feet slightly trembling with the accumulating pleasure that threatened to cut her legs from underneath her. “Look at me when you come, Alaera, I want to see you… if it is to be the last time,” he said less forcefully, with pain lacing his words, and she opened her eyes as he felt her tremble under his fingers and more wetness release from her core.

She circled his shoulders to sustain herself against him and he basked in the warmth of her body pressed to his. He lifted her and took her to his bed, then carefully laid her on it, aware of the injuries that must still hurt at every contact. He stood and noticed her surprised eyes following his moves when he did. He went to a cabinet and took a recipient with ointment he had used enough times to know would help with pain caused by injuries and sore muscles. He approached her again and started to gently apply the salve over the large bruises on her thigh, leaving light kisses on the unblemished skin around. He forced himself to ignore her scent and all the places he died to taste her.

When he lifted his hand to her torso, she turned slightly on her left side to leave the right one free to his ministrations. He was glad of her acceptance and applied the balm on the horrible purple swelling that covered her ribs. When he was done he simply laid himself on his right side, facing her, their eyes intertwined. He wanted to understand the storm behind her blue pools but did not dare ask.

“Are we taking a break?” she asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

“I do not want to hurt you,” he replied honestly.

“But you do want to collect your debt,” she said, voice cold with reproach. She took his silence to be approval and straddled him in a swift move. “Then let's proceed and be done with it, dear husband!” She made quick work of unfastening his breeches and found him already prepared but still stroked him a few times, her eyes never leaving his. She then brought his tip to her entrance and brushed her swollen bud a few times with it. All he could do was watch her, uncertain of his previous decision. It all felt so foreign, so unlike all that they had experienced together before. But he found no way out of this mess of his own making. He knew she would leave him the moment he allowed her to. And he could not. Ever.

When she positioned his shaft to her opening and started her descent, he circled her waist and turned her on her back with him between her spread legs. He dropped his gaze between their bodies where his shaft now brushed her mound, then closed his eye and drew a deep inhale, concentrating on dominating his body's impulse to bury himself inside her warm tight core. “It doesn't have to be tonight,” he said, his forehead resting on the softness of her breast, and kissed the skin beneath it.

She lifted his face to hers, “I told you already, there is only tonight,” and he steeled himself to follow through. He drove himself inside her, slower than ever, drawing her pleasure out with unhurried moves. She answered by bucking her hips, allowing him deeper access. He continued with languid strokes, willing himself to prolong this encounter as much as possible, afraid that she might hold true to her word and never again allow it. He noticed her left hand fisting the bedsheet, her teeth biting her lower lip, the small moans of barely contained pleasure. When she stretched her right hand to his backside and pulled him closer to her, he rejoiced in her renewed want of what he was giving her. Aemond accelerated his moves in and out of her slick core, brought his right hand to her left one and intertwined their fingers and watched her open her eyes and thought there might still be some love for him there. But he could not long hold her stare so he captured her lips with his as his strokes became even stronger, enjoying the whimpers of pleasure that came from deep within her. She arched her back and he knew she was close to the precipice. Had he still had some self control, he would have surely pulled out to drag out their lovemaking but her thighs clenching themselves around him made every last rational thought leave him. The shuddering of her core around him pushed him over the edge and he emptied himself in a surge of ecstasy.

He would have stayed in this moment forever, dreading what was to come after. He listened to her breathing slowing down and only then dropped on the bed, keeping her flush to him, unwilling to pull out of her yet. He caressed her back and laid soft kisses on her face, relishing the feel of her breath on his neck, her right hand fisting his shirt.

“I could have done this for the rest of my days,” she said against his chest and something broke inside him, a strange pain growing inside him. He squeezed his stinging eye shut, but could not stop tears fom trickling down his face.

When Aemond woke the next morning, Alaera wasn't next to him anymore. Her side of the bed was cold so she must have left quite some time ago. But where? He washed and dressed quickly, found her room to also be empty, then inquired with some servants. Apparently she had gone to Helaena's rooms to be afterwards summoned to the Small Council chamber.

He entered the room agitated. “Oh, husband…. sorry, former husband of mine,” Alaera said in a forced jolly tone of voice when she saw him. “How good of you to join us this morning!” she continued, making a small curtsy. She never curtsied, except ironically.

“Former?” he asked and saw her nodding, smile still on her lips. He could feel her seething. He looked to those in the chamber, his lady mother, his grandsire, the Hand, and his smiling idiot of a brother, their new King. Around the table were also sitting the Grand Maester, Tyland Lannister and Jasper Wylde.

“Yes,” she said and approached him happily, grabbed his arm and turned to look at the others next to him. “Remember our imposed marriage of yesterday?” she asked without expecting an answer. He noticed his mother drop her eyes to her wringing hands. “The same one we happily consummated last night?”

“Way to go, brother!” Aegon said with a wink.

“Well, it was already annulled this morning as I am sure to be barren given my advanced age!” Alaera said, mockery lacing her every word.

“What?!” Aemond spewed, barely leashing his anger from transforming into punches to his brother's face which was covered in a satisfied look.

“And you wondered why I did not want to marry you, Aemond!” she replied.

“Aemond, you have to understand….” his lady mother started in a pleading voice.

“Grandson, you are needed!” Otto Hightower interrupted his daughter with no regard for her words. “You must fly to Storm's End at once and ensure the allegiance of Lord Boros Baratheon. He only has grown daughters and Aegon's children are still too young to forge this alliance,” the Hand said.

Aemond's left hand still clasped around Alaera's at his side, he breathed deeply to control his fury and the bile rising to his mouth, while his other hand was clenching and unclenching. She had told him several times that his marriage would have to be a political one, but he had always countered not only that their bond would hold strong no matter what, but also that he would fight anyone and everyone to be with her. Its strength had only lasted one night.

“Sister, I hope you took care not to get with child,” Aegon mocked her, sitting from his chair at the head of the table and coming closer to Alaera to taunt her, obviously not knowing how little his words mattered to his wife. “We wouldn't want you to go the same way as your sister and become a whore that mothers bastards,” the new King went on to say.

He had barely finished his words when Aemond's fist smashed his face in full. Not even the two members of the Kingsguard in the room had time to react and prevent the attack no one had expected. Aegon fell back and to the floor because of the impact. So this had been his plan all along, his revenge on Alaera for challenging him. Little did he know, Alaera had no intention to stay and play wife to him. By severing her formal tie to Aemond, Aegon was actually making her escape that much easier.

“Not….another….word to her, brother!” Aemond warned as he was grabbed and immobilized by the two white knights.

“You will not touch me,” Aegon said, his tone increasing. “I am your King!” he screamed but Aemond could not care less. Not for long, if I can help it, he thought.

“My son, please,” their mother went to Aegon and helped him up, but he pulled himself out of his mother's hand as soon as he was upright. “There is no need to fight amongst ourselves…” she pleaded.

“You will marry a Baratheon and secure me the forces of Storm's End, brother!” Aegon said, coming closer to Aemond, who was still struggling to get free in the hold of the Kingsguard. “Or I will hurt our beloved sister in very…very unique ways,” he whispered for only him to hear. Aemond knew none of the white Knights would ever go against the King and free him unless he quieted down and stopped being a threat. “I always wondered how she…felt,” the idiot added and Aemond stopped struggling, his stare going directly to the woman he loved. “What could she have done to you to make you, the good, obedient son, actually betray your family!”

Aemond turned his lips toward Aegon's ear and whispered “If you touch her, I will kill you and then gladly take your throne,” so low that only the two white knights might have heard him. He noticed the King swallow hard, but he had to admit, Aegon recovered quickly and patted him friendly on his shoulder.

“So good to come to an understanding with you, dear brother,” he said with a forced smile and sauntered away.

Aemond exhaled and tried to quiet his screaming mind. Aegon wouldn't hurt Alaera. She could protect herself, at least if she were not immobilized already…or drugged…or….No! He had to stop his mind from spinning tales. He shook his head at the thought, an image of her spread under Aegon, being bound hands and feet, burned his eye. She would tell him and he'd kill Aegon. But would she? No, nothing would happen. Aegon knew deep down he didn't throw empty threats, he wouldn't dare put a finger on his wife. Not if he wanted to live.

“Guards, take my sister to her room and do not let her out!” Aegon ordered and the knights moved to Alaera's side.

Aemond went to her and kissed her forehead, more for his benefit than hers. “Please,” he heard her whisper, “hold your temper, Aemond. Whatever happens!” she said and raised her eyes to him, pleading with him. Did she feel the anger boiling inside him and threatening to erupt in violence?

*****

The sun was slowly setting by the time Aemond landed Vhagar in the Dragonpit. He saw Alaera right away, dressed in her black riding garb, coat hiding her numerous knives. As she had no dragon in the pit, she would have had nothing to do there, but wait for him. He had half expected her to leave him and escape while he was away. It wasn't as if the Red Keep could truly keep her locked.

The High Septon had agreed to dissolve their marriage the next day after he had officiated it, just so that Aemond could offer his hand in marriage to one of Boros Baratheon's daughters in exchange for an alliance against Rhaenyra's claim. He had done his duty and so much more that he had hoped she would not be here on his return. He had prayed that she had taken the chance and escaped. To now find her waiting for him like a good and loving wife broke him even more than his vile act already had. All he could think about was that Alaera was truly lost to him, even when she did not know it yet.

Aemond tried to mask his feelings but he knew for sure Alaera would read him as soon as he got close enough to her. He descended from Vhagar's back and took some steps toward her. He saw recognition and questioning on her face and, as expected, she started toward him, meeting him more than halfway.

He dropped on his knees before she reached him and covered his face in his hands. “I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry,” he lamented, unable to look her in the eyes.

“What happened, Aemond?” she asked, stopping in front of him, bending to him and caressing his wet hair, her other hand trying to pry his hands away from his face. “Did you already marry one of the Baratheon girls?” she tried to joke to relieve the situation. If only, he thought.

He nodded his head in denial. “I'm so sorry, my love,” he said, hands on his knees, head still bowed, eyes closed shut, tears coming out of his right one.

“Aemond, what happened?” she asked and he felt the change in her tone, more and more serious, a coldness in it sending chills down his spine. Would she exact revenge in place of her sister or just offer him to the bitch?

She stepped closer between his knees, took his head in her hands and forced his face to look up, toward her. “Tell me. Whatever happened, we'll find a way out,“ she said, trying to appease him.

He shook his head sideways, tears still falling on his cheeks, eye closed shut. She then dropped on her knees in front of him. “Talk to me, Aemond,” she said softly. “Please,” she said and kissed his lips lightly. He couldn't resist the temptation of a last kiss and, in one swift movement, took her in his arms full of desperation and invaded her mouth with his tongue. She accepted him with a moan and he tried to memorize everything about the moment: her body in his arms, the taste of her mouth, her smell, each movement of her tongue tangled with his, every sound of passion she made under his touch. Deep down he knew it was most probably the last time, so he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent deeply, trying to memorize it.

“Please,” she said. “You're scaring me,” she added, pulling herself slightly and forcing his face away from hers, all the while caressing his cheeks. He opened his eye because he needed to see her loving him just one more time, he needed to drink in the sight of her, the feel of her before it was all snatched away.

“I need you to know that I love you, Alaera,” he said, grabbing her hands in his and putting them on his chest. “No matter what I've done, no matter what I'll do, please know that I love you! I would go back and change it all, if only it were possible,” he said, full of conviction. He needed her to know that before she left him forever. Her eyes told him she was scared of whatever had brought him to this state. “Promise me you'll always remember that I love you,” he said, almost begging her. “Swear it to me, Alaera!”

“I swear,” she said in a tone that told him she suspected something grave had occurred at Storm's End. “Now tell me!” she said in a cold voice and he knew it was over. The world would end with his next words. The one person he wanted to be a good man for would now see him for his true self and be forever lost to him.

“I lost control of Vhagar,” he said and watched her become even more worried. “Luke was there…” he stopped, begging the gods for a reprieve, basking in her eyes as if they were pools of clear water in an ocean of thirst.

“Go on,” she said and the coolness of her voice cut him deeper than he expected.

“Seeing him there made me angry, remembering how he took my eye….I chased him, on Vhagar,” he said and saw shock followed by pain appear in her eyes.

“No…” she said, head negating a reality she still had a few moments to deny. “Please, no!” she said with tears forming in her eyes and pulled herself from him, stumbling on her back and barely catching herself on her hands.

“His dragon attacked Vhagar and I couldn't stop her….” he continued, extending his hands toward her, reflexively trying to help her.

She stood and he jumped on his feet and tried to hug her. “I'm so sorry, my love,” he said.

She drew herself away from his outstretched hands and took a few steps away from him on unsure feet. Her gaze stuck on him, mouth open, head shaking in disbelief, she stumbled again and barely managed not to fall. Then she turned without aim, a hand over her mouth. He could hear her continue to say, “No, please, no, no, no, please, don't let it be true!” while shaking her head.

He followed her aimless steps and tried to comfort her again by touching her arm but she violently pulled herself away and turned to him, angrier than he had ever seen her. “Don't you ever fucking touch me again!” Aemond knew he would never fail to remember the despair mixed with hate in the eyes of the person he loved the most in the whole wide world, never would he forget how it felt to lose the love of his life because of his own lust for revenge.

Alaera turned and walked toward Vhagar. He tried to follow but heard her say without even turning her head to him, “Stay away from me!” and he froze in place.

She stopped a few steps from Vhagar who had already acknowledged her presence by raising her head and looking at his wife intently with her immense golden eyes. He watched Alaera simply stand still in front of his old dragon, barely two steps away, looking Vhagar straight in the eyes. They stared at each other in silence for long moments until a scream of anger and pain erupted from his wife's throat and she fell to her knees. In response Vhagar opened her mouth and Aemond saw the flames starting to come. He ran as fast as he could, grabbed Alaera and tried to pull her away from his dragon, but she violently freed herself from his grip and pushed him away from her with a force he hadn't known she possessed. He fell on his back on the gravel but barely felt the pain of the stones embedding themselves in his outstretched palms. “NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!” she yelled again and it hurt him more than any physical wound anyone could ever inflict upon him.

“I thought she would burn you,” he said and she burst into hysterical laughter.

She approached him but stopped a couple of steps away from him. “Didn't you learn by now that no Targaryen dragon will ever hurt me?” she asked, as if talking to an idiot.

“I couldn't stand to see you hurt,” he explained.

“Then you shouldn't have attacked our nephew, my love!” she said, almost spitting the last two words. “There is no worse thing that you could have done to me, husband!”

“I didn't mean….” he started but she cut him off.

“Stop! I saw everything,” she said, almost screaming, disbelief and certainty mingled in her enraged countenance. She stared a few more moments at him, probably preparing herself to pummel him, her hands fisted at her sides. After long moments she turned and walked away.

“Please, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness,” he stood and started after her. “I would do anything, Alaera, if only I could….” She halted, her back still to him, her shoulders now trembling.

“You could have let revenge go, Aemond,” she said, her tone desolate as tears fell on her cheeks.

“He took my eye!” he said, traces of anger still lacing his words, and felt the pain of his ten year old self ressurge.

“He was a boy of eight who knew no better!” she shouted, barely containing her anger, he knew.

“And I was ten and constantly the joke to them all because I had no dragon,” he said, hoping to make her understand how tormented he had been even as a child.

“And now you ride the largest dragon, Aemond. And what did you do with your big, angry dragon? You killed a boy and his pup! Well done! What a fine warrior you are, my love….” Those last two words were drowned in bitterness and he could taste it himself.

“I did not mean to…” he said, knowing his words could not change her mind.

“You did not have to mean it. You took your anger and resentments on the back of the last true war dragon, you fool!” she said and it truly struck him. He had never thought that his deep feelings might have any import when riding a dragon. “Visenya Targaryen's dragon, nonetheless!” she added, with incredulous fury on her features.

Alaera had told him of the ways that dragons and their riders can influence each other, about how the dragon chooses the rider based on some deep compatibility and how certain dragons are meant for certain people. As a child he had not truly believed all that, being more concerned with actually getting a dragon, any dragon at that point. Big and scary had been the best possible option in his mind back then, as it would give him power over his tormentors. Now look at what he had done with that power.

“I guess it's fitting,” she said wryly, looking down at him. “She too was bitter and unloved. But you do not have that excuse, little brother. Your mother loves you. Helaena in her own way. Daeron most probably. Father was just… unable.” She made a break and bit her lower lip. “I loved you.” Then she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the waning light of the sun. “That will be your burden to carry, Aemond. Having chosen hate over love,” she said and turned to leave.

“You are the most important thing to me,” he said to her back and she stopped in her tracks.

“Not more important than revenge and your ego, it seems,” she replied, not even turning to look at him.

“I can't let you go, Alaera!” he said what was on his mind.

She finally turned to him and even covered the feet between them, stopping only when she stood in front of him. “Then you'll have to kill me, Aemond,” she said, her whole body screaming defeat. “I won't even put up a fight. But can you live with one more life on your conscience today, kinslayer?” she said with no inflections of sentiment in her voice and he dropped on his knees again, eye closed, head bowed.

The pain her words had just caused hurt him physically. He had just lost the one person who had loved him unconditionally, he knew. He heard her moving, her decided steps taking her away from him and he couldn't stop himself from watching her, praying silently to all the gods, both to the Seven and to the ones of Old Valyria they had read so much about together, just for her to turn her eyes to him once more. It would have given him a sliver of hope that all was not yet lost. But she never did. And the world was at once dark and cold.

“This, my love, is why I resisted you, your proposals of marriage.” Alaera said, bending her knees and lowering herself to better catch his eye. “I did not want to marry a hurt and angry boy. But you showed me, again and again, a grown man, always calm and composed, scarred maybe, but sure of himself and his feelings. But it's the boy I married, isn't it, Aemond?” she asked with so much sadness he felt all her pain. He forced himself to hold her gaze but it seared him with its pain. “You couldn't let go of your revenge over a boy, not for my love, not for the future we could have had. I would have given you everything.”

“Alaera…we can still…”

“No. You have no future, Aemond,” she added in a whisper, her head shaking sideways, her beautiful eyes bowed in desperation.

“Will you kill me for it?” he asked in an angry tone that held no menace.

“Not me. But there is no way you can survive what is to come after what you've done today.” There was no regret in her voice as she said it. In her mind, he deserved the worse, and he could not truly contradict her.

“You discard us so easily? All that we have…” he started, trying to remind her of their fast growing love and intimacy.

“Me? It was not me who traded our love and our future just to end the life of a boy who didn't even get to live yet. When you close your eyes for the last time, Aemond, be glad you at least had it all, even if you did not know it!” She stood and left him still kneeling in the Dragonpit.

It took him long moments to take her words in, but he forced himself out of the stupor and followed her in the Dragonpit, down the steps underneath it and through the passages leading to the Keep. She was already far away in front of him, but every once in a while he thought he saw her coat disappearing around a corner. He did not even try to catch her. She clearly wanted to be left alone. She needed to grieve. Again. So he simply followed her, halting when he got to the secret entrance to her room. He listened to her move around the room, probably packing some belongings. He did not delude himself that she would stay after today. But he did not know if he could actually watch her go.

When he heard her sheath her sword and sling a bag on her shoulder, he steeled himself and made the few steps to enter her room. “I love you,” he said, almost no will left in his voice, as if all resolve had left him.

She turned her face to him, melancholy in her blue eyes. “I have loved you,” she said, sorrow enveloping her. He felt all of a sudden cold and alone.

“I will always love you,” Aemond said, with slightly renewed firmness in his voice.

Alaera smiled softly. “Then do not try to stop me. Or one of us will die and the other one will not be able to live with it,” she said and picked up her sword, then glanced shortly at him. “Or maybe you would,” she said on second thought and left the room.

Chapter Text

Alaera left her room without looking back. There would be time later on to mourn the love she had thought would be forever.

Her steps took her through the already darkening hallway to her sister's rooms, waited shortly by the door but heard no sound coming from inside it. She knocked and entered without waiting for an answer as she heard guards approaching. She did not know how much time would Aemond give her, if any at all.

Helaena was sitting on her chair, looking unworried. She raised her amethyst eyes to Alaera and she regretted having to do this.

“It has begun,” Helaena said, with no emotion, sustaining her stare. Those few words held so much weight to Alaera, all that she had feared, all that she had done her best to prevent from happening had now truly come to pass. She broke down and dropped on her knees next to Helaena's feet. She put her tear soaked face on her sister's lap and was glad to feel the shy young woman stroke her braided hair. “You are the one strong enough to carry it, though,” she heard her say. “Broken maybe… but you'll fly again,” Helaena continued her musings. Alaera lifted her eyes questioningly to her younger sister. “Better than to break and never fly again!” Helaena said as if trying to convince Alaera of something that she should already understand. Her eyes then strayed sideways and sadness covered her beautiful face.

There was much Alaera could endure, but Helaena's sorrow was not something she was willing to witness. “Helaena, where are the children?” she asked, snapping out of her self-allowed moment of weakness and looking around alert.

“Maelor is in the nursery, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys are probably eating their dinner,” Helaena answered flatly. “I should go to supper now, sister. Afterwards I must take the children to mother for their bedtime story,” she went on.

“Helaena, we must get the children ready. We must leave King's Landing!” she said, getting up from the floor and wiping her face, decided to do all she could for this sweetest soul of all.

“No,” was all her sister said, not even looking at her.

“What? Why?” she asked, astonished by the blunt denial, forcefully taking Helaena's hands in hers. She knew she was probably scaring her little sister but she would be soon detained if she dallied any longer. This was her one chance to take Helaena and her children somewhere safe. “Helaena, I can get you out. But it has to be now. I can get you to Dreamfyre and then to safety. Please!” she pleaded, ignoring the tension in her sister's hands at the sudden touch.

“I cannot,” Helaena said, again emotionless, her eyes once again meeting Alaera's.

“Why? Because of Aegon…?” she started to ask.

“Because of you,” she said and Alaera was dumbstruck. What had she done? Did her sister not trust her? Maybe not. She had been gone for so long, after all. How could have anyone relied on her when she was never there? “If we come with you, you will die, Alaera,” Helaena explained and stunned Alaera. “Today.”

“I can take care of myself, Helaena. And of you and your children. I have friends who can ensure your safety, but we must get out of King's Landing tonight. I know a secret passage to the Dragonpit. We'll take Dreamfyre and go,” she said, trying to impress her capability on her untrusting sister.

“I know you love us, sister,” Helaena said with kindness and pulled her hands out of Alaera's and took her face in them. “You never failed me, Alaera,” she said, then placed a soft kiss on her forehead and Alaera knew it meant goodbye. “The passages are guarded. You can get out. Just not with us… It would only give Aegon the excuse he needs to execute you,” Helaena said flatly, as if she were reciting dull poetry.

“I don't care!” Alaera said. She truly didn't. She felt like she had little left to lose, at this point. It was probably the heartbreak talking, a stray thought passed through the mind, but she shut it out.

“But I do!” Helaena countered with a decisiveness in her voice Alaera had never heard from her. “You must live!” Helaena said in a determined tone unknown to Alaera. “I need you to take care of my Jaehaera,” Helaena said and a tear fell on her right cheek.

“Of course, but why…why just Jaehaera?” Alaera asked, confused, but Haelaena had already turned from her.

“One to stone, one to ice, still mother's love to thrice,” she heard the younger woman chant.

“Helaena, what does that mean?” Alaera followed her and tried to catch her sister's dreamy eyes again, but recognised that the younger woman was already parted from reality.

“Go now, sister, the hour is late,” Helaena said and left the room with no word of goodbye.

As she found her way back to Maegor's hidden ways, Alaera did her best to repeat to herself her younger sister's words as she truly believed Helaena to be a dragon dreamer and her riddles prophecies. “One to stone, one to ice,” what could it mean? What did stone and ice have in common? Hardness? Resilience? And “mother's love to thrice”? A mother with three children? Helaena had three children, Raenyra five, soon six. She would have to think about it all later, when she would be somewhere safe, after sleeping a day or two.

She couldn't even remember the last good night's sleep. She doubted she would feel it soon either, not with the tempest already raging in her family, soon to engulf the realm. If only she could reach Rhaenyra before Daemon's vengefulness could taint her kind heart, she knew she could sway her older sister to a way of peace. She dreaded it though. When had anything gone how she wished it? Never since that fateful day when she had lost her mother. Had she expended all her life's luck when she had survived her own birth? Was there nothing left, she wondered? She lost everyone she loved, either to death or to life, but in the end, she was always left alone. So much sorrow threatened to overwhelm her, for sweet Lucerys and his little Arrax, for Rhaenyra's double loss, but also her own disillusioned hopes of everlasting love.

In that moment of despair, a wave hit her and she stopped in the dark and cold passages beneath the Keep. Warmth enveloped her, but not from the outside. It seemed to spread from somewhere inside her, as if a small spark was blooming into a fire, not meant to destroy but to bring comfort and tranquility. She allowed herself a few moments to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling. It felt like the lightest of caresses, not over her skin, but over her innermost spirit. As if the kindest friend would embrace her and cloak her from the cold darkness.

She then made her way on through the dark, managing to evade both rat catchers and a few guards, but once she came in front of Balerion's skull, she halted. The sight, her father's dragon, brought forth memories of one of the last real conversations she had had with him, maybe a fortnight ago.

“I had chosen a dragon egg for you, wild child….” her father had told her. “Well, actually Daemon brought a few from Dragonstone. We…we chose a bright golden one for you…. But when your mother started her labors… a dark wild dragon circled the Keep. I knew him… He had been there for our first boy's birth too…and for Rhaenyra's…. For all of Aemma's labors… But when you cried your first breath…. Oooh, how he lit the night sky…again and again and again. A fire blue just like the color of your eyes. He had never done….that before. I knew then… you already had a dragon. He had been waiting for you. I sent the dragon egg… back to the Dragonpit. You….you had been claimed, my dragon child.”

She had cried then, listening to her father recount the tale of her birth and of the wild dragon who had blazed the winter night sky in celebration. Finding out that she had not been thought less, had not been purposefully stripped of having a dragon hatch to her, but had been chosen at birth by him. Her dragon. Or was she his? Searing pain coursed through her at the thought of having sacrificed him and for naught. She had never deserved him, after all. He had been wrong in choosing her. She deserved to be alone, never truly chosen by any other, be it man, woman or beast. Maybe Coryanne had been right to break their connection nine years before. Maybe Rhaenyra had been right to choose Alicent over her when they were young. Maybe father had been right to train Rhaenyra as his heir, and not her. Maybe even Aemond had known better when he chose his hate for others over his love for her. Maybe Helaena….

No! She had to stop self pitying herself. Helaena had chosen Alaera's survival over her own safety and that of her children's. And she trusted Helaena to have seen beyond the words she had shared with her, to have been certain that Alaera's survival mattered. If her little sister trusted her to make a difference, she would not let her down. She would claw her way out of this snake infested town and reach Rhaenyra before more damage could be done. There had to be a way out of outright war. And if there was, she would find it.

She straightened her hunched back and turned to leave. “Princess Alaera Targaryen,” she heard a honeyed voice close to her. “Fancy meeting you here!” She turned to find Lord Larys Strong smiling behind her.

“Lord Strong,” she said, studying the man who now looked at her with great interest. She knew him to be very close to the Dowager Queen, therefore one of the green party. She had heard whispers of him being appointed Lord Confessor after her father's death. That would make him directly responsible for the hanged bodies around the Red Keep.

“Where to, Princess?” he asked, his voice just as nauseatingly sweet.

“Is it my time to confess, Lord Strong?” she asked, going on the attack. Her right hand found the hilt of a knife as she circled the man sustaining himself on his cane.

“If you wish, Princess,” he answered. “Shouldn't you be in your room? Or at the celebrations? You must have heard of the blow your husband… pardon me, your brother has delivered to the usurper!” His voice made the hairs stand on her skin. She knew a snake when she saw one and Larys Strong was probably the most poisonous one of all.

“I can only mourn the departed and pity those who sully themselves with the blood of kin!” she said then turned to leave.

“The King did not give you leave, Princess. On the contrary, he seemed quite…” he started saying but found her face close to his and stopped.

“The King allowed me to go wherever I wanted. The King is dead. The usurper can come after me personally, should he dare!” Alaera said and departed again only to hear the voice of Larys Strong call after guards. And of course he was heard and obeyed. She started running, ignoring the burning in her thigh and the searing pain in her torso now that she had to breathe deeper. She tried to take detours through some adjacent narrow passages but the sounds of following steps were still at her back. She hid in a crevice and waited for the two guards following her this way - she hoped they were but two! - to pass by. She tripped the first one, embedded her knife in the other one, then slammed her right knee in the first guard now trying to get up from under his stabbed companion. Then she ran again.

Alaera decided the only true help she would get was to be found in the Dragonpit. It was not the exit she had planned, and also a longer way to run, given that her body was not yet well prepared for this swift escape. She quickly thought Helaena had been right, she probably would not have been able to get both her and her three small children out undetected. Many swear words passed through her mind but she was already way too winded to utter them. She momentarily noticed the blood coating her right hand but concluded it had been unavoidable. She would not let herself be locked down in a dungeon ever again.

She ran as fast as she could but the shouts of her pursuers were always there, following her. By the time she reached the Dragonpit, everything hurt: her legs, her torso, her lungs were burning, her left side stung from exertion, even her head pounded and her mouth was parched. But she wasted no time to rest and took the corridor leading to the caves where the bigger dragons, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre, were slumbering.

“Nyke jorrāelagon aōha dohaeragon! (I need your help)” she thought, reaching with her mind toward the two and she felt them stir. She stopped running just beyond the openings and waited for her followers. She had to time everything as well as possible, for she did not truly want to hurt them. “Kostilus, dohaeragon nyke pryjagon dāez! (please, help me break free)” she urged the two beasts, hearing them stir inside their caves. Alaera even thought she felt a wave of recognition coming from the beautiful beasts bonded by her siblings Aegon and Helaena. She hoped they might decide to help her now, given that they had accepted her presence and even her petting them back when they did not yet have riders. “Kostilus! (please)” she thought again.

When the guards, now more than half a dozen, appeared on the other side of the cave openings, she shouted in her mind, “Dracarys!” The two majestic beasts spewed wave after wave of dragon fire engulfing her pursuers.

An impulse to start running again, as if being pushed from behind, took over her. In her mind a thought foreign in origin formed, not made of words, but of open blue skies and extended wings beating the air. It was so strong that for a moment she became blind to the fire lighting the darkness around her. The feeling translated into “Jikagon! Sagon dāez! (Go! Be free!)” and she sent thoughts of gratitude. Quickly overcoming her astonishment, Alaera turned and ran, convinced that there had to be more to the dragons than what she had been taught.

She exited the Dragonpit and made her way to the city, doing her best to keep to the shadows, her head covered and slightly bowed, always halting and retreating to some dark alleyway when she met goldcloacks on their patrol. She unwittingly came upon a gathering of soldiers and stopped breathing when she discerned their commander's instructions. She was close enough to hear exactly what their new orders were: “The traitor Princess Alaera Targaryen is trying to escape the city and reach the usurper Rhaenyra: She must be caught, dead or alive!” he bellowed to his men, about twenty by the voices now joking around. “Can we have a little fun with her before she dies?” one asked and many laughed and replied approvingly. Keeping her breathing as shallow as possible, she retreated from that particular street into narrower ones, trying to remain in the darkest of shadows. It worked, until it didn't.

“Hey, you over there, in the dark cloak, show yourself!” a voice bellowed behind her and she heard another set of steps halting next to the one who had spoken. Two. She could take two. If she was lucky. If her ribs wouldn't hurt like the seven hells after running so much. She looked around and listened. There didn't seem to be others near, for now. She lifted her hands in defeat and feigned a slow turn toward them, but sprinted right and ran again like crazy. They followed and she thought herself lucky that none of the narrow alleys proved to be a deadend, for that would be her death. A slow and very painful death, given the not so honorable intentions these good men had with her. But she knew her luck would end at some point.

She had lost all sense of orientation. She knew she was in Flea Bottom but where exactly, she could not tell. She halted shortly, once again having to choose between turning left or right, when she suddenly felt two strong hands grab her, one around her middle, one covering her mouth to stop her from shouting. She was pulled inside a house and the man holding her closed the door with his back, still holding her. “I mean you no harm, Princess,” he said to her ear. “Please, make no sound, they will be upon us in a moment,” he pleaded and she nodded in approval. He let her go but, without the moonlight from outside, she could not see him. He gently grabbed one of her hands and pulled her in another small room and shut another door behind him. Here a small candle burned on a small table and Alaera was able to discern the one who had rescued her to be a young man, strongly built, of about twenty, and also a woman standing near a bed, a bit frightful. She shortly glanced around, this was their bedroom, small but clean, she noted.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “But why…?” she started asking.

“You do not recognize me, my Princess, but I know you,” he said in a low tone and brought a small chair for her to sit on closer to their bed and the dwindling light of the single candle.

“Thank you both,” Alaera said, sitting and waiting for an explanation. The man looked somehow familiar but she could not place him.

“My name is Callum and this is my wife, Mariah,” he said quietly and the young woman bowed her head, shyly. “I heard the ruckus on my way home, they even stopped me and asked after you. Luck have it, I was by the window when you stopped. I saw your braid and your white hair and knew you at once, my Lady,” he said.

“I do not know how to thank you…for the risk you have taken in helping me,” she said softly, still unsure why he had done it. It must have shown on her face for he smiled and explained.

“I was but thirteen when I came to the stables of the Keep looking for work. My father was ill and could not work anymore, so me and my little sister were starving. They turned me away but just then you came on your stallion and saw how they pushed me. You said you needed special care for your steed, that if I could handle it, the job was mine,” the man whispered and Alaera finally remembered him. She had followed the boy home, where his father laid on his deathbed. There had been nothing to do so she had given him coins for food and milk of the poppy to ease the man's suffering. “I owe you everything I have, Princess!” he said, taking the young woman's hand in his. “I could not have married my Mariah or helped my sister learn her craft - she is a seamstress, you see, and a damn good one at that - had it not been for your help,” he said with fervor.

“I am glad to have been of help, Callum!” she whispered, a slight sting in her eyes. “Mariah,” she added, nodding to the pretty woman who was caressing her slightly swollen belly, Alaera noticed. “Congratulations,” she added with a smile and the woman returned it, looking down where her hand rested. “Oh, my Lightning, I haven't even visited him…” she started, remembering the chestnut beauty she had last ridden probably four years before.

“I am sorry, Princess, he passed nigh on two years ago,” Callum said with regret.

“But do you still work in the stables?” she asked, worried.

“Yes. I have always had a way with horses, since I was a boy,” he said proudly but also appreciative of her caring. “I helped with all the others from the start, I proved them to be worthy so there was no talk of letting me go when Lightning passed. I am sorry, Princess…but he was quite old,” he added, with regret.

“I have neglected him for so long…” she said, her eyes now downcast. So many other things on her mind over the years that she had forgotten her beautiful stallion, the one she had ridden most of her life, but very rarely.

“I took him out every day, Princess. And your brother, the young Prince Daeron, was also very partial to him, he proudly rode him whenever he came to King's Landing,” he added and Alaera felt a bit closer to her youngest sibling, fostered in Oldtown since he had been little. She used to visit him whenever she flew to Dorne, especially when in Starfall which was just a short flight away from the seat of the Hightowers where he squired. She hadn't seen him these past three years, she thought, and a pang of regret pierced her chest. Daeron was the one sibling she knew the least but regretted the most. When would they next meet, would he even know her? He must be almost a man grown by now.

“Thank you again, Callum. I am in your debt, twice over!” she said, grateful.

“There is no debt, milady. You want to reach the docks, I assume,” he said and she nodded in response. “There are still some of my sister's garb here, in the other room. She just married and has still some to take. They would probably fit you better…my Mariah is on the small side,” he said with another smile to his wife. “We could walk there together at dawn, say you are my sister, going to Dragonstone for a job at the castle there. We'll find a good ship and get you on your way!” he said and Alaera thought it to be a good plan.

They did just that and Alaera's bag got much bigger with all her clothes and most of her knives stuffed inside. She kept some strapped on her body or hidden in the pockets of the course dress she now wore. They strapped her sword on her back underneath the dark brown coat Callum gave her and she hoped it would not be seen. She bound her long silver braid tight around her head and covered it with two layers of brown fabric so that her most Valyrian trait was now well hidden. At least she did not have the lilac eyes of her kin, she thought, or she'd have to spin some story of being a bastard of House Dayne, the stony Dornishmen who sometimes had purple eyes or white blond hair. Although she doubted the common men of the Goldcloacks knew of the physical traits of that particular Dornish house.

To Alaera's surprise, almost none of the guards patrolling the streets and the docks at dawn looked twice at her, dressed in worn out, dark fabrics, with hunched shoulders and humble demeanor, accompanied by an equally simple looking man. She worried about her quality boots being noticed, but she had rubbed dirt on them and hoped none would look close enough to notice the quality of the leather or the stitching. She embraced Callum and gifted him coins for his unborn child in thanks for his help that night. He tried to refuse her but she insisted, glad to be able to somehow reward his loyalty.

Standing on the deck of a ship departing King's Landing, eyes on the growing sun, Aleara started to dread the news she would have to impart to her sister in some hours. She still hadn't given herself the time to truly think about it, so to have to tell the boy's mother would be a special kind of hell for her. But there was nothing to be done. Lucerys was gone and nothing could ever bring him back alive to Rhaenyra's arms.

With a heavy heart, she made her way from the small port to the castle. She looked up toward the dark shape of the imposing ancestral home of her family and made to take the winding road up but was stopped by guards. On the ship, she had taken the time to change back to her own riding leathers but, with her head covered, they didn't recognize her.

“What's your business at the castle?” one of them inquired.

“I am Alaera Targaryen and I wish to see my sister, the Queen,” she said simply.

“Your sister?” one of them asked, bursting into laughter. Alaera straightened her back and raised her face to the men, then pushed her hood back allowing her silver white hair to be seen. She noticed their eyes widening but just then they all heard strong wings beating the air. They all turned their heads toward the skies where a dragon appeared, circled and departed in the direction of Shipbreaker Bay. She recognized Meleys, the Red Queen, which made her suspect they most probably already knew about Lucerys' passing.

By the time the guards turned their faces from the skies, she had started away from them.

“Hey, you!” one of them called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I know where the back door is,” she said without turning to them.

“We can't let you go!” one said and grabbed her arm, halting her. She turned her most steely look to him, not moving a muscle. The man was taller and much broader than she was, but she trusted she could take him. But she would have rather not hurt one of the few men her sister had.

“If you value your hand, take it off me. Right now.” she said in a low tone, but she hoped the menace was noticeable even to a less refined man.

“Princess Alaera!” a voice came from behind the guard still holding her. “Laron, take your godsdamn hand from the Princess!” Ser Laurent Marbrand appeared and the guard let her go at once, a disconcerted look on his face.

“I'm sorry…” the man started mumbling.

“No worries,” Alaera said, understanding her prolonged absence made her a stranger even here, on Dragonstone. “Ser Laurent, good morrow,” she said, glad to see at least one friendly face.

“Princess, welcome…home,” he said, most likely uncertain of her intentions.

“Ser Laurent, I would like to see my sister, the Queen,” she said, her eyes drifting once again to the direction the two dragons had just flown in.

“Her Grace is already away…. Dark times are coming, Princess,” Ser Laurent said, shaking his slightly bowed head.

“They're already here, Ser Laurent,” she said and saw understanding in the man's eyes. “I am glad my sister has loyal men such as yourself by her side,” she added after some long moments of foreboding silence. Even the sky was darkened with clouds as if not even the sun could shine on this dark day. The Queensguard nodded gruffly and Alaera wondered if his role in her sister's court had been wished for or imposed.

“I'll send a man to carry your bag up to the Keep, Princess,” he said, noticing her satchel.

“No need, I think I'll walk around and wait for my sister on her return,” she said and made her way to the beach. The long walk gave her time to sort her own thoughts and feelings over the many events of the last days and fortnights. She allowed pain to course through her, allowed herself to weep for the less than perfect father she had lost. She recognized her own need for love and intimacy that had blinded her to Aemond's faults, paving the road to a second breaking of her heart. It had taken her years to overcome the disillusion of her first love, to gather the pieces that Corryane had shattered her into when she had demanded that Alaera give up her searches and remain in Dorne. Gods damn her hopeful spirit, that part of her that believed kindness could overcome resentment, vengefulness and ambition. Then she thought of the young nephew she would never hug or laugh with, the man he would never have the chance to grow into, the life he would not have the opportunity to live. That hurt the most, she realized.

Only after the faint light of the clouded sun began to dim, did she hear the beating of wings approaching. She stood from the cold sand and waited. Alaera was no dragon dreamer but she dreaded the times to come and the challenges she knew she would have to face. Should she swear allegiance to her sister, she would give herself to the will of her queen. Did she trust Rhaenyra to make the right choices? Would she be able to follow her Queen's commands even should she not fully agree with them? Would she herself know right from wrong when their family was irreparably divided? Somewhere deep inside Alaera Targaryen knew the person she was now would not live to see another scion of her house ascend the Iron Throne.

Chapter Text

Alaera Targaryen watched the dragons approach. The first to land was Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, ridden by her sister's husband, her Syrax following just a few wingbeats behind.

“You took your sweet time, dear Alaera,” Daemon said, descending in smooth and practiced moves.

“I had to escape a marriage…. without a dragon, this time” she replied with a pang of pain in her chest, longingly glancing at his red dragon. “Which, as you know, is totally new to me!” Alaera said, trying to alleviate the heavy atmosphere with self irony, her eyes already on her sister who was descending from Syrax's saddle. After her feet touched the sand, Rhaenyra simply stopped, her eyes glued to Alaera's. She was able to see all strength and self control leave her older sister's body, now slumping under her eyes.

Alaera's heart broke once again at the sight of her sister's pain, so clearly reflected in Rhaenyra's red, puffy eyes, on her ashen features, even in her sunken shoulders and her wobbly feet. Everything about her screamed deep suffering, so intense as to tear down even the strongest person.

All Alaera could do was walk toward her, to offer herself as crutch, but was suddenly stopped by Daemon's iron grip. “I hope you finally decided what side of this war you are on, my dear Alaera! I do not tolerate traitors!” he said under his breath, so that his wife would not hear him, she knew.

“I am on my Queen's side,” she snarled, not even looking at him. “Now take your hand off of me!” she said and pulled her arm from his hand.

She practically ran to Rhaenyra and embraced the older woman who at once crumpled in her arms and fell to the ground, pulling Alaera with her. It was as if all her power was suddenly exhausted, so much so that Alaera now held a heaving Rhaenyra, who looked at her desperately, still somehow incredulous about her latest loss, begging to be given even the smallest hope. “My Luke,” she sobbed, grabbing Alaera's arms in a steely grip she knew would bruise, though it did not matter. Her body would recover. Her sisters' pain would never truly heal. Rhaenyra's lilac eyes glistened with tears searching for something Alaera could not give. She had no way of contradicting the reality of Luke's demise, for unbeknownst to her queen she had seen it all through the eyes of his killer. “My sweet boy,” Rhaenyra said and curled herself in Alaera's lap. Sometime later she heard her mutter the words “my baby” in a tone of utter despair.

Without even noticing, tears started flowing from Alaera's eyes, but they were not for those already departed but for the woman who had lost her father, her son and her crown almost at the same time. She could not imagine the amount of agony plaguing her sister, but she did her best to soothe her, to infuse her some of her own fortitude, through her lips glued to Rhaenyra's forehead, through the force of her embrace, through her gentle words. “I know, I'm so sorry, they loved you so very much, they are with mother now,” she said softly again and again, caressing her sister's back, rocking her slowly, pulling her to herself, offering all that she had, trying to somehow take even a sliver of all that pain onto herself. She knew it was not possible. A mother's suffering was her own and no sister, no matter how loving, could ease such intrinsic burden.

When her own tears had dried and Rhaenyra's sobs had diminished, she noticed her sister's body, now curled up. Her belly was so much smaller than last time they had met, just a few days ago. A new wave of sorrow hit her. She must have lost the baby, the much awaited little girl Rhaenyra had planned to name Visenya. Her head snapped to Daemon still standing a dozen paces away. His head was slightly bowed telling her that he too was saddened. He turned his face to her and their eyes met shortly. The dread she felt increased tenfold but she pushed it down. She would rein in her own anger because she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon already had too much of it.

She felt her sister stir and helped her stand as their aunt Rhaenys landed on the back of Meleys. The older woman looked at them, Alaera sustaining their Queen on her wobbly feet. She saw compassion and understanding there, another mother who had lost her children. Both her children. A wave of guilt passed through Alaera, remembering the time some four years ago when she had stumbled upon a definitely living Laenor in a land far away. Her aunt nodded shortly to Alaera and left, following the steps to the keep and allowing them privacy. Even the dragonkeepers made short work of taking the three dragons away to their caves beneath the keep.

“Will you stay?” Rhaenyra asked in a broken tone as Daemon approached and offered her his arm. Alaera dropped her eyes to Rhaenyra's hand, squeezing her own, showing her that her sister needed her in this time of distress.

“Always,” Alaera said with conviction. “Or until you send me away,” she added.

“Never!” Rhaenyra said and craned her head up to place a soft kiss on Alaera's cheek.

They walked together, the three of them, Alaera and Daemon sustaining Rhaenyra, all the way to the Keep. She glanced sideways and met Daemon's violet gaze over the other woman's slightly bowed head. Alaera could not deny she saw pain and regret in his eyes but there was also barely contained anger she knew well. It was what she expected from the Rogue Prince, known for his warmongering ways. She looked at her sister and wondered at the strangeness of the three of them together. Not that it had been impossible or even improbable up until then, but because she had tried so very hard to prevent such a final schism of their family.

“The dragon has three heads.” Alaera remembered her sister Helaena's words, mumbled maybe a fortnight ago. Aegon and his sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys, conquering six of the seven Kingdoms of Westeros more than a century ago. Rhaenyra between Daemon and Alaera, deposed from her intended place on the Iron Throne. Aegon with Aemond and Helaena, sitting on their sister's throne he had just usurped. But what of Rhaenys and Daeron? Where did they fit in this prophecy, now maybe coming to life? And she herself had no dragon. Not anymore. Another pain to spear her. Another blame to carry.

The following morning, after the deepest sleep of her life, Alaera awoke startled. Still tired, with several body parts painful, but sunlight was starting to light her window and she knew the day would be full of challenges. She dressed and hurried to Rhaenyra's rooms to attend to her sister.

She had sworn her allegiance last evening in front of her sister's court and had offered her service, meager as it was. It was now time to find her footing in this new court, to give a purpose to all her previous failures.

She found Rhaenyra sitting on the side of her bed, staring at the window and the sea beyond. The sea she probably thought was even now taking her son's body further and further away from her arms. The sea that would never relinquish its prey.

“Leave me,” Rhyenara said when Alaera dared to approach. When she made no move to turn, her sister absently looked at her. “Oh, it's you….” she said and turned her eyes back to the window. Alaera saw the untouched tray of food on the table.

“You need to eat, Rhaenyra,” she said softly.

“What I need….” she said, but there was no bite to her tone. She had probably wanted to snap at Alaera but she had nothing left, not even for that.

Not long afterwards Baela and Rhaena, Daemon's daughters by Laena Velaryon, entered the room to help their Queen get dressed. Their grandmother, the Princess Rhaenys, followed. She noticed Rhaenyra's state and went to the Queen. Alaera took a few steps away from her sister, allowing the two mothers some intimacy, but she could still hear her aunt's words in the room's quietness. Even though she softened her voice, Rhaenys would probably never be able to completely lose the strength that permeated her every word.

“The pain that now threatens to overwhelm you, it will never go away,” the older woman said, standing in front of Rhaenyra, still sitting on the side of her bed. “But you will learn to live with it. It will become as much a part of you as the love for your other children, the ones who still live.” Alaera noticed how the princess' gaze went to her granddaughters, all that was left of her daughter Laena, only to then look back at their ailing queen. “And for them you will push it down every time you have to be a queen. And when the day's work is done, you will come to your room and you will allow it to take you. You will let it course through you, you will cry and scream, you will mold the pain in something else but you will not let it dominate you and your thoughts. For you are Queen and you are not allowed to put your feelings, no matter how painful, above the needs of your people.”

Alaera heard the words and recognized in them the woman she had thought made to be queen. “The Queen who never was”, some called her. The only child of King Jaehaerys' eldest son, Aemon, the one who should have sat the iron Throne instead of her cousin, Viserys, eldest son of Jaehaerys' second son, Baelon. But Targaryen succession was far from fair to women.

Alaera saw her sister's reaction to the words, her back straightened, her face calmed. She allowed them to help her wash and get dressed, she sat patiently for her hair to be brushed and braided. When she stood and nodded, a sign that she felt ready for the Council, Daemon came to the room, an air of satisfaction on his features. He stopped in front of his wife and laid a hand on hers, reassuringly, and bowed his head slightly to bring their eyes on the same level.

“Blood for blood. A son for a son. Lucerys will be avenged!” he said and Alaera froze. Her eyes moved from Daemon to Rhaenyra and she saw understanding appear on her sister's features.

“Don't, Rhaenyra! I'm begging you,” said Alaera, making a step to come closer to her older sister. “Those children did nothing to you!” she pleaded, noticing Daemon's grunt of exasperation. If only she could reason with Rhaenyra without his interference, goading their queen into revenge and violence.

“Lucerys was just a child, too!” Her queen cut her in a voice sharp but also so full of pain that Alaera felt a place deep inside her bleed, not only for her nephew, but more so for his mother.

“He was the sweetest of children, yes, but almost a grown man willing to help his mother's claim,” she started making a step towards her sister only to find Daemon also moved as if to shield his wife. He was shielding her sister from her? Even unarmed, her sword hand itched. She forced her eyes to ignore his gesture as meaningless, though it certainly wasn't. He was telling those present that Alaera was not trustworthy. “My Queen, you still have the moral high ground, while the greens hold your usurped throne. Killing infants is not the way to gain it back,” she continued in an assured tone. Holding her cool was the only way to counteract the flaming personalities of her sister and her consort.

“What has that brought me, sister? Two dead children! What do you know of my pain? You've only ever spurned the obligations of your station and went on your dragon only Gods know where…”

“I searched to prolong our father's life, as you well know, Rhaenyra,” she said, pained by the accusation and saw some softening in her sister's eyes. “We all knew the greens would make their play for the throne, I just wanted it to come as late as possible. As for the burden of ruling, I was born second,” she said, glancing quickly at her uncle, remembering his vile insinuation. “It was never meant for me. I was meant for peace-keeping, even if some would call that weakness,” and she looked at him intently once more.

“You are as weak as my brother was,” Daemon said.

“I do not seem to remember asking for your opinion, uncle, yet your mouth keeps moving and spewing malicious words about your own dead brother who forgave you all manner of impunity. Keep at it, it bothers me not, but it might open our queen's eyes to your excessive pride and vengefulness!” she said, turning to her sister once again. “Do not become a kinslayer and a murderer of children, Your Grace,” she pleaded in a softer tone and bowed, waiting for the reply she knew would come, hoping for a milder decision. She knew her elder sister well and now, thinking of her last few days, could even sympathize with her losses. But she had hope that Rhaenyra's kind and fair nature could still prevail.

“Kinslayer and child murderer, you say, little sister? Like your husband, you mean?” Rhaenyra came closer to her and said exactly what Alaera feared she would.

“I made an error in judgment. I spoke against Aegon at his coronation and he was very much inclined to take my head. So yes, I chose to live, I married Aemond, but left as soon as I heard of Luke's…passing,” she said and Rhaenyra came at her at once, seeming ready to hit her, but stopped when their faces were but inches apart.

“Of Luke's murder, you mean to say!” her sister said, anger and searing pain mingled in her voice. Alaera saw the tears falling freely on her queen's face. She knew Rhaenyra needed an outlet for the immense pain, so fresh that nothing could truly soothe it.

She grabbed her sister's face in her hands and bent her head a bit to bring their eyes to the same level as she was taller than the queen. “There is nothing that I wouldn't do to bring him back! Nothing, Rhaenyra! But no other death will bring either Luke or Visenya back into your arms,” she whispered with conviction in her voice. “No matter how many children we might kill, that will not soothe you. Only more death will follow.” She thought she saw her sister flinch in her desire to take revenge on Aegon's children. “Do not add to the danger to your children's lives, my sister,” she added, hoping to sway her sister's sensibilities closer to her line of thinking.

“My children will be much better protected from now on!” Rhaenyra interrupted and turned from her, walking to her husband's side. A look of triumph appeared on his face, his lips curling slightly upwards.

“They are Helaena's children, Rhaenyra!” she shouted after her sister, feeling her hard gained ground being pulled away from underneath her.

“Helaena has made her choice,” Daemon interfered and Alaera looked at him hoping he saw murder in her eyes. “And she chose to become queen,” he added smoothly, with a sly smile on his lips. She knew it was his influence over her sister she was fighting, just as much as the unbelievable pain now filling her queen's broken heart.

“Do you even know Helaena, uncle?” she replied, doing her best to hold her anger leashed. “Exactly,” she said when he didn't reply. “You didn't even take the time to know my siblings…. except for Rhaenyra, that is,” she added with an ironic smile.

“Jealous, dear Alaera?” he asked, smiling at her and she read exactly what he was alluding to. It turned her stomach so much that bile rose to her throat.

She burst into a short, wry laugh. “On the contrary! I am grateful to you,” she said and saw him raise an eyebrow in question. “You saw a speechless child and gave her a purpose. For that at least I am thankful!”

“You're welcome,” he said smiling, but somewhat dismissively.

“What you did not foresee was that I would not only hone my skills with the sword, but also my mind. You might have groomed me to serve Rhaenyra just as you groomed her to be your wife someday…”

“How dare you?!” the queen interrupted her.

“Let us not hide behind righteous words, sister!” Alaera said decidedly. “Daemon is made for war and mayhem, it is where he thrives. This war is what he has always prepared himself for. He wants it to happen. He never did anything to prevent it…”

“Like you did? Little use…” said Daemon.

“At least I tried!” Alaera snapped.

“Some would say you just wasted your youth,” he said mockingly.

“Some should keep their unrequested opinions to themselves,” Alaera said in an indifferent tone. “Your Grace, killing even one of our sister's children will plunge us and the entire realm into war. Thousands will die. The kingdoms will burn. Even should we win, you will be queen over ashes. The people will have no love for you,” Alaera pleaded, toning down her voice, as if she would only talk to her sister.

“What do you propose, Alaera?” the queen asked in a tired tone after a few heartbeats, looking at her younger sister. Alaera saw the softness mixed with pain but also some hope in Rhaenyra's eyes and recognised an opening there.

“Let me go to the Red Keep and get Helaena and her children out. We betroth Jaehaera to your Aegon and name them your heirs,” Alaera said and held her sister's eyes.

“What about Jace?” Baela intervened, reminding Alaera the three of them were not alone. She looked at the young woman in time to notice Princess Rhaenys grab one of her wrists and signal her to stand back.

“Jacaerys is my heir, as you well know,” Rhaenyra cut her, coming again close to her younger sister, daring her to say what remained unspoken even between the two of them.

“Legitimacy is key, Rhaenyra!” Alera said softly as to not be heard by anyone else, putting her hand softly on her sister's arm. “I know Laenor lives…” she whispered, so that Rhaenys would not be able to hear what Rhaenyra and Daemon most probably organized in order to marry six years ago. Rhaenyra froze in astonishment, but recovered quickly, her gaze slipping shortly to the other three women in the room, somewhat farther away from them. She then pulled her arm away and walked to her husband's side.

“So you suggest I leave my son's death unavenged?!?” Rhaenyra asked, angry but with a slight shake in her voice. “My half-brothers simply unpunished? Forgive and forget?” As she said that, she grabbed Daemon's hand and he caressed it in both of his. Alaera knew she had lost the battle but was unable to give up. Her little nephews' lives were worth whatever she could lose here today.

“Whatever violence you inflict on them, none will bring Luke back to you. Violence breeds violence, Rhaenyra. Nothing else. Whatever pain you inflict, will only come back tenfold,” she tried once more, even if her hope was diminishing.

“Then it is high time the pain they inflicted on me return tenfold to them, little sister!” Rhaenyra said, the pain in her voice now laced with cruelty. Alaera feared that all her words were in vain and nothing but death would appease her sister's bleeding heart. She knew it would be far from enough. Rhaenyra would not stop there.

Desperation filled her and she grasped, thinking of something else that might entice her sister. “I will kill them for you, if you swear the children live,” Alaera blurted the most outrageous idea barely formed in her frantic mind.

“Ha!” Daemon smirked. “You, dear Alaera? The only Targaryen foolish enough to lose her dragon?” he goaded her, circling her with appraising eyes. She stared at her sister, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing pain in her eyes. But Rhaenyra saw it, she was certain, and she thought she saw guilt on her older sister's beautiful face. Only a few days had passed and somehow what she had told her sister in confidence had already been passed to Daemon. At that moment she hated herself for being so naive and trusting, for confiding in Rhaenyra her biggest loss, her weakness.

For that was what Daemon thought her, weak. Alas, she cared little for it. She herself knew not if she would be able to do it. Infiltrate the Keep, sure, easy. Attack Aegon and force him to fight her, also possible, she would probably manage to even kill him, but it would be loud and she would be caught in the process, maybe before he was dead. But then there would be no time or opportunity to kill Aemond. Could she kill Aemond? She loved him still, well, that part of him only she was privy to, the gentle and loving side of him hidden beneath his glacial surface that also covered an angry fire burning inside him. But that man was forever lost, she knew. There was no turning back for him since bringing about Luke's death. Even if he hadn't realized it yet, his role in their nephew's demise had also destroyed the last sliver of goodness inside him.

“You would kill your own husband? Become a kinslayer, just like him?” Rhaenyra asked inquisitively, assessing her. Daemon next to her laughed out loud, incredulous that she could do that.

Long moments passed. “I can try.” Alaera said at last, uncertainty heavy on her soul.

“Try? Ha!” Daemon mocked her and her eyes turned to him full of venom.

“If the choice is between the children and my brothers, I choose the children,” she continued, her tone rising to cover his interference, hating all of them for the situation she was in. “I will always choose the innocent,” she added.

“Even should you manage, which I doubt, they would have Aegon's boys…and Daeron with the Hightowers,” Daemon smirked.

“They would have two dragonriders less,” Alaera pointed out but Daemon interrupted her.

“Your plan makes no sense, Alaera!” he said, mocking.

“Nor does killing infants!” she exploded. She breathed in deeply, suppressing the fire gathering inside of her. Damn her Targaryen fiery personality. Even after all these years, self control did not always come easy to her. She breathed deeply to calm herself once again and only spoke when Rhaenyra's eyes fell on her again.

“This is where you truly decide what kind of Queen you will be, sister!” She bowed curtly, still hoping to sway the queen.

“I will consider it. Leave us!” she said and Alaera knew that her opportunity had come at an end. She hated the feeling of impotence and uncertainty, not knowing what would be Rhaenyra's decision.

On her way out of the room she noticed the other three women who had been present for the entire encounter. She had no words for them, either for Rhaenys after witnessing her escape from the Dragonpit nor for Daemon's daughters. She needed to be alone, to think about all that had transpired and to find a way to save Helaena's babes. And Rhaenyra's too. After that all her siblings could burn each other for all she cared.

She made her way toward her room and barely heard the sound of feet a few steps behind her. But when she was almost to her room's door she turned to see who was still behind her and was surprised to find her father's only living cousin, Princess Rhaenys, there.

“Princess Alaera,” Rhaenys started coming close to her niece and laid her hand on the younger woman's arm. Her eyes were warmer than Alaera would have expected from one of her sister's bannermen. “Your sister is a mother first, you should understand,” her aunt told her.

“If she wants to be queen, she will have to be mother to the whole realm,” Alaera said in a harsher tone than she had intended.

“You do not yet understand, Alaera,” Rhaenys said, subdued pain lacing her words.

“It does not fall to me, true. But I love them equally, Rhaenyra's children and Helaena's little ones. They are all dear to me and I will take no part in their murder,” she said decidedly, pulling her arm away from her aunt's hand.

“Have you ever thought about yourself on the Iron throne, niece?” Rhaenys asked, grabbing her arm with a strength unknown to Alaera.

“No,” she answered honestly, surprised by the question.

“Too bad, you would have been the better one,” she said and the words struck Alaera deeper than she would have thought.

“I have thought that of you, aunt,” she said softly, recognising that her father had not been the better choice for the realm's throne. Rhaenys' eyes widened in surprise, not having expected such an honest reply, and one that put quite some blame on her father. She was tempted to say how her opinion of Rhaenys had changed after her escape from the Dragonpit, but she felt it would be pointless, the fact already behind them.

“All I have ever hoped for was to stand next to it, able to fight for those who cannot defend themselves. Naive, wasn't I?” she smiled bitterly and the other woman kept looking at her appraisingly.

“Take care to live long enough. You will be needed,” Rhaenys said. “Even if your sister will not always make it easy for you.”

“When do we, Targaryens, ever make things easier for ourselves and those around us?” Alaera said, more to herself than to her aunt who had turned to leave.

The older woman seemed to remember something and turned back toward Alaera, looking at her with saddened eyes. “I would have chosen you for Laenor,” Rhaenys said.

“I cannot think of a worst pairing,” Alaera said bursting into laughter but with no trace of amusement. Seeing the look of shock on her aunt's face, Alaera toned down her voice, saying “I loved Laenor. He was kind hearted,” then came closer to Rhaenys and whispered in her ear, “but I took women to bed and he took men. The only heir to come of us would have been a babe made by our lovers!”

The elder princess looked hurt for a moment, but Alaera was not in the mood of sparing everyone's feelings anymore. She would be honest to herself and to those around her. She had never seen Laenor, for all his physical beauty, as attractive to her.

“Forgive me my bluntness, aunt,” she said, once again aware she was talking about a dead child, for that was what Laenor was to Rhaenys. “To be perfectly honest, it was Laena I fancied for so many years,” she said and the look of surprise on Rhaenys' features did not include outrage this time. For years and years she had watched Laena and thought her the most beautiful and graceful creature to have walked the earth. She probably should have figured out back then, when she had been but 11, that she fancied girls and not boys. “It's the only thing I ever envied Daemon for!” she added, doing her best to relieve the tension of the day.

“I am afraid his influence on your sister will get harder and harder to counteract,” Rhaenys said. “You should prepare yourself…If you continue to oppose him. In their search for allies, he might propose to marry you off in order to ensure some alliance or other.”

“Oh, I do not doubt it,” Alaera said, considering the insight the other woman had. Quite cunning, indeed. What better way to get an opponent out of the way than to marry them off to some lord, thus removing their influence from Court? “But I am no one's broodmare,” she said. “I will serve the realm and my Queen the best I can, I will gladly give my life should it be helpful in bringing peace, but I am not made to push heirs out of me!”

“Then take care not to marry young and virile men, dear niece,” Rhaenys said and smiled softly. Alaera's thoughts went directly to her now annulled marriage to Aemond. And to the fact that she had done nothing at all to prevent his seed from growing inside her. She knew right then and there that no child born of her body, should she not prevent its birth, would grow up a Targaryen. That at least was in her power.

Later that day she was summoned to the Council room. She arrived to find everyone assembled, all her sister's bannermen, knights of the Queen's Guard, Daemon, Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys standing together with their granddaughters, Rhaena and Baela. As she entered, all those around the room quieted down, taking the hint from the tension obvious on their Queen's face.

Alaera stepped closer to her sister but did not fail to notice the two members of the Queen's Guard mirroring her steps. Maybe she should have come wearing a dress and not riding garb complete with sword and dagger, but she had wanted to take a horse from the stables and visit the orphanage she had grounded years ago on the other side of the island.

“What the fuck are these, little sister?” Rhaenyra asked, throwing three crumpled scrolls in front of Alaera, anger exuding through all her demeanor.

“My messages of warning to our sister, Helaena, Your Grace,” Alaera answered with barely a glance at her feet, where the scrolls revealed her writing.

“How dare you?” Rhaenyra asked, coming closer to Alaera, her face slightly turned up because she was shorter.

Noting that Rhaenyra stood unmoving, waiting for her reaction, Alaera lowered her eyes to meet her sister's amethyst ones. “I did the same for you. I did all that was in my power to warn you, sister,” she said, her voice low and warm with compassion. “I could do no less for Helaena's little ones,” she added, with a small shrug of her shoulders. “I will not choose between your children and hers! I would have them all safe, far away from the madness about to ensue!” Alaera said and an idea started to form in her mind.

“Helaena forfeited her children's safety the day she was crowned queen next to her usurping cunt of a husband!” Daemon intervened and Rhaenyra took the opportunity to distance herself from Alaera.

“She chose nothing but to be an obedient daughter,” she addressed Rhaenyra rather than Daemon, once again approaching her sister's back but keeping some distance so as not to seem threatening. Alaera knew exactly how she looked, dressed in leathers and armed to the teeth. She needed to tone down the menace she might represent in a room full of her sister's bannermen who all trembled in front of Daemon, not daring to contradict him.

“Sweet Helaena can come and bend the knee to me and she and her children will be forgiven and taken under my protection,” Rhaenyra said, turning to Alaera.

“She can not get out of the Red Keep with her children and you know that, my Queen!” Alaera replied.

“You managed,” Daemon said derisively.

“I bloodied my hands to do it. Helaena does not have my physical attributes…or my violent streak,” she said and her gaze went to Daemon and met his lilac eyes, only to turn away, ashamed to have been caught. The seed of doubt that he had planted had sprouted. And she hated him for it.

“One could consider your actions a betrayal of your Queen,” Rhaenyra said.

“Did Your Grace prohibit me from writing to our sister?” Alaera asked, as demurely as she managed. She heard Daemon smirk but she ignored him. Rhaenyra said nothing, so Alaera went on. “There is nothing threatening to you in that letter, my Queen. There is only concern for my younger sister and her little children. The same concern I have for your children, Your Grace. I do beg you to consider sending them away in secret to a secure location before true conflict begins. I could…”

“You? You expect us to trust you with our children?” Daemon intervened.

“I do not expect anything. I warn to the perils of the coming conflict, Your Grace. I fear further losses of lives, both to our family and of the realm's people,” she said and bowed slightly deferring to her Queen. She knew she had to speak to Rhaenyra's pride not only to her judgment. That maybe she might overcome her sister's suspicion by stroking her pride.

“You compare my children to the people?” Daemon approached her and hissed.

“At least I think of them all,” she replied without gracing him with her gaze. She bowed to Rhaenyra and turned to leave the room. Her patience was coming to an abrupt end and she did not want to misstep. Again.

“I have not dismissed you, little sister!” Rhaenyra said and Alaera stopped and turned, then looked her elder sister in the eyes.

“I will not stay here and hear about plans to avenge dead children by killing more children, Your Grace!” she said, keeping her back straight. “Should you need me, you need only summon me,” she added sternly.

“Need you? What good are you to me without even a dragon?” Rhaenyra asked in a cold tone and Alaera knew it was the pain in her sister talking, so she schooled herself into silence.

The Queen stepped toward the painted table, leaving Alaera closer to the part of the map depicting the southern regions of Westeros, the same table map that had served in the planning of the Conquest more than a century ago. “As I see no further role for you here, Alaera, you will make yourself useful and bring me the support of Dorne!” Rhaenyra said out loud for all those around the table to hear. Alaera felt her eyes widen in surprise and she noticed satisfaction appear on Rhaenyra's beautiful Valyrian features.

“I was under the impression Prince Qoren already refused to involve himself in our Targaryen conflict,” Alaera said, inquisitively.

“Seeing as you have saved the Prince's life from certain death, I am sure you are uniquely equipped to convince him to support our cause,” Rhaenyra said. “More like your cause”, Alaera thought, but held her tongue.

“The Princes of Dorne have never wanted anything to do with us Targaryens,” she tried to warn Rhaenyra of the incredibly small chance of success in this endeavor.

“But he did, after all, call you `the Dragon of Dorne´, little sister! You might not have a dragon anymore, but maybe you can put your powers of persuasion into good use!” The jab was more than Alaera expected from her sister. Then again, Rhaenyra had never been very warm to her, so why did she expect it now, after her marriage into the greens? After her attempt at allerting Helaena to the danger looming over her young children? Her eyes flitted to the intercepted missives to assure herself that there were only three of them. That meant at least two went through. “As you do not have a means of flying there, Lord Corlys will dispatch one of his ships to take you there,” Rhaenyra said dismissively, turning to Lord Celtigar on her right.

“No need,” Alaera said simply, with the smallest smile, a wave of certainty enveloping her. She sensed it was probably better if she was removed from this court where revenge seemed to be the only purpose.

“I would be happy to offer my best and fastest ship, Princess,” Lord Corlys said, probably thinking her afraid of the sea.

“Do you mean to refuse the request of your Queen?” Rhaenyra asked, sharply, seeming almost glad of the perceived rebuke, probably ready to send Alaera to a cell in the bowels of the mountain. At least they were warm, thought Alaera. Though she did prefer the cold as long as there was light.

An almost deafening sound came from the outside of the keep as an immense shadow darkened the windows of the great hall. It was the loveliest sound Alaera had ever heard: the roar of victory of a huge dark blue - almost black - dragon she had not seen in too long. He probably flew sideways, his belly almost grazing the face of the castle, presenting himself proudly to all those present, but Alaera did not look for she already felt his presence without the need to see his shadow. She simply watched those present with a small burst of pride. Most reacted out of instinct and bowed or dropped to the floor to protect themselves against the unexpected threat, looking around frightened, not understanding at first what was happening. Only Rhaenyra and Daemon did no such thing. Her sister had no fear of dragons. Yet. A mistake, Alaera thought.

“I will do my best, my Queen!” Alaera said with a true smile of joy on her face and bowed her head to her awed sister. “Please, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone,” she thought, but bit her tongue. Her sister had most definitely lost all her sense of humor and sadly she understood why.

She left the council room without a glance to those around who had witnessed the exchange. Had she looked, she would have seen many eyes full of respect following her as she retired from the main hall of Dragonstone.

Once out of sight of those in the hall of the painted table, she started to run and did not stop until she reached the beach where her beloved Rexhor had landed and was bellowing his excitement to meet his rider after being parted for so long.

Alaera ran to him but stopped before reaching him. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands, terrified of facing his eyes. Burning tears flowed from her eyes and she had no means to stop them. She did not dare acknowledge the happiness flooding her: she knew there were only dark times ahead, but with him at her side, she truly believed she would find the power to face whatever fate had in store.

Rexhor approached her and, although his head was as big as she was tall, slightly pushed his snout into the back of her hands, inviting her to touch him. A deep growl, almost resembling a purr, came from deep inside his body and she knew she was forgiven. She fully opened her mind to him and a wave of pure and unconditional acceptance flowed through, making her happier than anything in the world. He was hers and she was his, in a way different to the connections of people, with no requirements or rules. She felt complete, just like twenty years ago when he had first descended from the skies to stand in front of a nine year old girl with no voice who knew nor what it meant to be chosen above all others. That had been his true gift to her. Not his fire. Nor his power. Not even his wings. But Rexhor's unequivocal choice of her, Alaera Targaryen. Her wild dragon.

Chapter Text

Alaera Targaryen reveled in taking to the skies as much as she had that first flight on Rexhor's back some twenty years ago. With an unparalleled joy that managed to overcome all her dread and sadness for some time.

As relieved as she had been to find her beloved Rexhor waiting for her, healthy and strong, even slightly bigger than how she remembered him, knowing that the growing strife she left behind was a fire kindling soon to erupt and engulf both her family and the Realm robbed her of the happiness she had expected to feel. She hated herself for taking this majestic beast, her one true and steadfast friend, for granted and continuously worrying about her siblings who seemed to ignore both her advice and efforts at every step.

She was certain some of the ravens she had sent to King's Landing had managed to go through, at least judging from the number of intercepted missives. She had to trust that her warning had reached Helaena and that she would better safeguard her children. But doubt was by now deeply embedded in Alaera's mind and she sought a way of attracting her younger sister's attention. Without words, Rexhor understood her decision and veered westward from their southward leading flight. She knew they would be seen, which was exactly what she wanted even when it was a tactical mistake. She hoped Helaena would understand why Alaera was willing to reveal the addition of a mighty dragon to the Black arsenal, the return of her wild dragon.

They flew over the Red Keep, in increasingly closer loops, hoping the right person would look outside her window and understand the warning. Alaera noticed scorpions being assembled on the ramparts, making a direct attack on the Keep much too risky. She was glad of the discovery for it meant they would have to find another way to reclaim the Throne that would not lead to countless deaths of the city's population. And given that Alaera had made a detour into enemy territory away from her sister's ordered course, she hoped this information might appease her Queen even when she would bring no good news from Dorne. For Alaera was the one Targaryen who truly knew the Prince of Dorne and doubted there would be any way to sway him in favor of Rhaenyra.

She did her best to watch both the skies around in case one of her brothers was flying with his dragon and also the windows she might glimpse her younger sister. None showed themselves but soldiers did seem to gather on the Keep's ramparts and she thought she saw a Kingsguard, strongly resembling Ser Criston Cole, organizing archers. She took that as a sign to return to her southern path and let go of the foolish hope that her little sister might understand her flying above King's Landing and exposing both herself and her dragon as something more, as a message for her. Alaera held one more small hope, that of a blue dragon who had already listened to her pleas a few times.

Rexhor understood her intentions and flew toward the Dragonpit although she felt a wave of hate emanating from him. Not directed at her, never that. Though she knew she deserved that from him, after trading his freedom for her naive dreams. A freedom he had gained by breaking the chains that had been his constant for his entire life until that moment.

This majestic dragon had hatched in the depths of the Dragonpit and then spent his first two decades chained mostly in darkness. Not that dragons disliked obscurity, on the contrary, it was where they felt safe, where they went to rest and to lay their eggs. But forcing them to remain forever bound, to dwell mostly in pens stunted their development and robbed them of any semblance of freedom. The thought of her beloved chained and allowed to fly only as much as the chains and the Dragonpit's height permitted brought tears to her eyes. Maybe they were due to the winds blowing in her face. Probably not.

A thought formed in her mind, followed by a mischievous smile twisting her lips. They could destroy the Dragonpit. If nothing else, Rhaenys' escape with Meleys proved that the structure was not as strong as Alaera might have thought. Was this her thought? Or was it…his? She wondered and flattened herself on Rexhor's back, trying to comfort him and maybe herself too. The dragonkeepers lived in the Dragonpit. They would all die should she give her approval. She did her best to form thoughts of a future destruction of the structure, without unnecessary loss of lives. Rexhor seemed content with that, though she knew the idea would serve her cause too. Well, Rhaenyra's cause. Once freed, would Dreamfyre and Sunfyre return to King's Landing? Maybe her usurping little brother would lose the symbol of his power. For what was Aegon without his dragon?

By the time her vision cleared, they had departed from the city and she had missed her chance. Rexhor then veered flying her back toward the Dragonpit and she felt a wave of annoyance, this time directed at her. Alaera smiled, thinking he would roll her eyes at her if he'd be a real person.

When they neared on the Dragonpit again, she did her best to stretch her mind beneath it, in the deep caves where Dreamfyre and Sunfyre dwelled. Alaera had spent more time there than any of her siblings, even before Helaena and Aegon were even born. All she had wanted as a small child, before her mother's death but afterwards also, was to understand the beasts. She had always felt there was so much more about them than just riding them in battle and killing with their flames. So much more than using them as instruments of destruction. And maybe they had understood her before she even understood herself. They were all intelligent, she was certain.

She remembered Aegon's coronation ceremony when Sunfyre should have burned her to cinders per wish of his master. But he had ordered “dracarys” and the golden beauty had spewed his flames, just not at her. Next to her, close enough to redden her exposed skin with the hot vapors forming next to his flames, just not directly at her. Had her idiot brother indicated “dracarys Alaera”, would she still be breathing, she wondered? Was Sunfyre smart enough to actually have found a loophole in the order he had received? For she knew for sure, she had not moved an inch to get out of his way. If her Rexhor was obviously capable of understanding her beyond simple worded commands, maybe the other dragons were just as intelligent and capable of decision making.

So she tried. She reached once more for her sister's beautiful she-dragon. She hoped to somehow warn Halaena through Dreamfyre. She had to believe that her little sister also had a deeper bond with her dragon just like Alaera had. It was possible, after all. But she only found silence. She was too far away, in the skies above the Dragonpit. So she resigned herself and sent thoughts of hot sands and shark infested waters to her dark blue companion and she felt his contentment at that. Together they had had good, tranquil times in the most southern kingdom of the continent, much more peaceful compared to all their other travels. So off toward Dorne they flew.

Alaera was tempted to visit Starfall before confronting the sandsnake currently called Prince of Dorne. It warmed her heart to think of Starfall, the one place she had ever truly felt at home, accepted and loved for herself and not for her title or for her dragon, ever since her mother's passing.

Alaera Targaryen had first met Arthur Dayne after saving his life twelve years ago. He had been part of Qoren Martell's retinue on that doomed sea voyage that might have ended in capture or even death at the hand of pirates. The fated detour she had made on Rexhor's back had meant finding her first love and her deepest friendship, almost at once. For when their ships reached Sunspear's docks, Alaera had met both Arthur Dayne and Coryanne Martell on the same day.

Arthur was the only son of the aging Lord of Starfall, Alaric Dayne. At that time, the twenty year old he was part of Qoren Martell's court, splitting his time between the fashionable court of Sunspear in the east and the growing requirements of his father's seat at Starfall in the west.

Alaera had been completely charmed by Sunspear: the heat, the colors, the gaiety, the libertine ways of the courtiers, everything was so different to all she had known until then, to the stuffy and self-important nobles of King's Landing, to the rules imposed to the royals and the precepts of the Faith of the Seven, to all that had made Alaera so eager to leave and explore the world beyond. And here she was, in the despised and probably feared Dorne, in the home of the only ones who had successfully rebuked the Targaryen invasion 120 years prior. And she, a Targaryen Princess, had been received and hailed a hero, a savior of their most important sons and daughters. The first Targaryen to be cheered for in Dorne.

Looking back, it might have been a play of the once young Prince of Dorne to continuously place two of the most attractive, quick-witted and eligible young people of his court next to Alaera. She wondered what the sand viper now thought of his gamble. Her love story to his youngest sister had crashed and burned after less than two years but her friendship to the heir of Starfall had blossomed behind his back in ways he probably still only suspected. She would soon find out. She knew quite well, Qoren Martell was not one to forgive or forget, even the one person he owed his life to.

Alaera would have loved to turn off course and visit the beautiful Starfall but she knew her sister would not appreciate her delaying the mission she had been given. Starfall was also close to Oldtown, where the Hightowers ruled and her youngest brother, Daeron, squired since he had been a little boy. Last time she had seen him some three years ago, he had been still small, barely eleven, but already cold and distant to her. Would they even know each other now? Would there be anything other than polite conversation between them now? Maybe she would see him again before they would be forced to stand in front of armies with weapons aimed at each other.

Alaera forced her thoughts away from Daeron, another brother she knew was lost to her because of rivalry and greed for power, and turned them toward warm memories of meeting like-minded people and making good friends. To the fortnights spent in Sunspear, being hailed a hero, being celebrated but mostly allowed a freedom she had not truly known.

Arthur Dayne had been not only tall, quite-not-dark and very handsome, but also intelligent, funny and in need of saving from the attentions of the several young women he had previously courted without much intention of marrying either of them. He had eagerly turned into her guide and source of information helping her to adjust to the novelty of this most peculiar and mischievous court. Although their interactions had started flirtatious, they had quickly evolved to both deep conversations and friendly jabs, alternating depending on their state of mind and disposition. They were usually matched in that and Alaera had often thought she would have loved a brother like Arthur, so close in both age - just two years older than her - and way of thinking.

“My dear Princess Alaera, I have to thank you,” he had said on one of the long sunny days he had spent in the gardens of Sunspear, taking her hand and hooking it into the crook of his elbow, pulling her away from the place where other nobles were grouped in conversation.

“Whatever for?” she asked softly, but with some sarcasm lacing her tone. She already knew Arthur to be a social butterfly, courting another woman every other fortnight.

“Well, saving my sorry life would be one thing,” he said, looking at Alaera only for his eyes to slip around her to see who followed them with inquisitive eyes.

“Ser, you already did, there is no more need,” she said politely, knowing this was probably not what he meant.

“Yes, there is, my dearest savior! You might not know this about me…. but I've been a scoundrel for most of my life,” he said and a wicked smile flowered on his lips. Alaera looked closer at him, trying to figure out where he was going. It was quite weird to find a Dornish nobleman who looked so much like her. The Daynes were known for their coloring, some of them with blond-white hair and violet eyes, very Targaryen like. Arthur was such an example, his hair just as light as hers, his lilac eyes even more fitting a Targaryen than her blue ones were.

“And such a long one that is!” she said, rolling her eyes sarcastically.

“Shush, child! I am two full years older than you!” he said, turning his tone more toward their friendly and intimate one.

“Oh, really?” she asked in a bored voice, indicating he had already used this argument before.

“Yes, yes, it might not seem so…. I am very good looking for my age, I know,” he said but she knew he was simply talking nonsense until they got farther away from prying ears. “But try living here! One does need to have some fun to survive it!”

“Out with it, old one!” she said once they found some shade farther away from others. They sat down under a tree, side by side, not even touching. There was no more need for that, once they didn't have to play a part anymore.

“Yes, well…. I've been courting some young ladies, as is expected of me,” he started reluctantly and she understood this to be important to him. Only when their conversations turned serious would his voice become lower, more profound, his words measured, sometimes a bit slow to reveal what he felt.

“Some?” she prodded, with a small smile. She did not want to push him, only to sustain his effort in opening up.

“A few. Not many,” he said with a quick side-glance at her. “Not THAT many!” he said and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly acknowledging her perceptive nature.

“I might be reconsidering…this,” she said after a long pause.

“Hush. I'm the best conversation you've ever had!” he said, elbowing her but careful not to hurt her.

“Ahm….” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, yes, you are too kind to deny it and I thank you for it! As I was saying, I….was not ready to marry,” he said, once again serious. “My father is getting older, Alaera. Frailer by the day. I do not feel ready….to be Lord of Starfall. My sisters…they're only twelve and fifteen. Children. I cannot be responsible for children,” he went on, pulling at the grass underneath his fingers. She laid her hand on his again, hoping to calm his nervousness.

She considered him lucky not to have been already married by his father. The only son, the heir, not married at twenty? She remembered the years her own father, King Viserys, had spent worried about Rhaenyra's future, even going so far as to arrange for a tour of the kingdoms in order for her to meet as many young nobles as possible and hopefully find her heart's desire. Aegon and Helaena had been married at seventeen and fifteen.

“Girls are quite mature at those ages,” Alaera tried to lighten the mood.

“Yes, I suppose I'd be surprised by them, should the day indeed come sooner rather than later,” he said and returned the squeeze of her hand.

The silence between them was so peaceful. Alaera had never felt comfortable with a man before. Secure. Not weighed for what advantages she might bring as daughter of the King, as dragonrider. Just her. She loved the feeling, this honest friendship between them. At first she had misinterpreted his flirtatious nature as him trying to court her, but Arthur had proved much more insightful than she had thought a young man of his station capable. He had guessed her interest in Coryanne from the first day. He had even played third wheel in order to offer them more time together, but also to give himself escape from the young women he had already discarded without actually informing them.

“What changed, Arthur?” she asked softly.

“I did. Because of you, of course,” he added and showed her one of those sincere smiles he rarely gave. “I saw death with my own eyes, Alaera. My lord father is nine and sixty. Almost seventy. Who even lives that long?”

“The lucky ones, I guess,” Alaera said, her thoughts back to her own mother, dead so young.

“I'm sorry,” he said, realizing her pain. She only shook her head. “My mother also died young, but thirty, giving birth to my youngest sister, Soranne,” he said, his tone sad.

They were both children who had lost their mothers much too early, she at six, he at eight. She wondered how did he turn like this, caring and respectful, having grown without the soft love of a mother to guide him. Alaera would have gladly hugged him but too many eyes were already following them from around the lush gardens of Sunspear.

“Alas,” he said and coughed forcefully, his eyes glistening. “One of those ladies I courted…”

“The last one?” she intervened, her curiosity peaked. He had only seemed to show interest in one lady since she had arrived, before he had turned his entire attention on her.

“Oh, no!” he said and she stifled a laugh. “It was…. months ago,” he said, once again looking away from her, ashamed.

“Let me understand. We are talking about someone you haven't seen in months?”

“Well…I have seen her! She is here,” he said and indicated the groups around the gardens. She tried to follow his gaze but failed to identify anyone of note. Or anyone resembling whom she thought would fit him.

“This might be too much for my female head….” she said ironically.

“I stopped courting her months ago,” he said, ashamed, so softly she barely understood him.

“Oh. And you expect what exactly?” she asked, trying to stop the bite of her sarcasm from camping through.

“That she….marry me?” he said, uncertain.

“You are quite…presumptuous, dear Ser!” she replied.

“I know. And that is why I need you, Princess, to convince her to….” he said slowly, probably hoping she might jump at the chance to play matchmaker. He did not know her that well, after all.

“Talk to you?” she offered. “I might be able to,” she added, once again searching the groups, trying to identify someone interested in him, maybe jealous of her overtaking his attentions.

“That would be a….promising first step, yes,” he said, slightly more optimistic. “Tell me you'll help, Alaera!” he said, almost desperate.

“Arthur, why do you sound as if you'd be….” she trailed off not wanting to presume too much.

“In love?” he offered. “Probably because I am. I noticed her deepening interest, her serious nature….and it scared me. So I ran away. I did not feel good enough for her. I still don't think I am,” he explained and she did not stop his trail of thought. Alaera loved these moments of openness from him. She knew it was the key to regain the affection of his sweetheart, if only Arthur could show the woman this side of himself she suspected she was the only one privy to.

“You are!” she said and took his chin in her fingers and turned his face toward her. “Talk to her like you do to me and she will love you, you fool,” she said with a smile.

“Are you telling me you love me, Princess?” he asked, overplaying the flirtatiousness of his words.

“Not as much as you love me!” she countered and he burst into laughter.

“We'll name our first after you, I promise!” he said, warm smile making him incredibly handsome, even more so than his usually aloof demeanor.

“What, Alaeron?” she inquired with a raised eyebrow. “Not really a Dornish name,” she added.

“Well, maybe not if it's a boy….” he reconsidered with a smirk. “Then again, we are stone dornishmen, we do as we please!” he added and winked.

“Now tell me, which young lady is going to be the lucky one?” she asked, somewhat wearily, looking around the girls around the gardens. He said nothing, only stared ahead and Alaera followed his eyes. “Oh, no, Arthur….you cannot…If she actually paid attention to you once and you blew it, there is no way she will again!” she said, incredulous. The young woman her friend was pining after was the daughter of a minor family, but very intelligent, educated, in possession of an inquisitive mind and quite funny once she got to know you. Which Alaera already had, as Lady Oriana had been assigned to help her dress in Dornish garb when she had first arrived. With the exception of Coryanne, she was the closest and only friendship she had formed between the young ladies of the court. But then again, Coryanne Martell had never been just a friend for her.

“And that is why I need you, Alaera!” he said, the challenge obvious in his voice.

“Oh, Arthur…you certainly do!” she had said, wary but also excited for the challenge of bringing these two lovely people together when one of them had already botched it.

The courting of the future Lady Oriana Dayne had been the most happy and carefree time of Alaera's life and it had gained her her two best friends. Probably her only true friends. If nothing else, she was happy about the possibility of seeing Lord and Lady Dayne again after more than three years away, should they be at court in Sunspear and not at their home in Starfall.

By the time Rexhor approached Sunspear, the sun was shining high and Alaera dreaded dismounting, thinking of the heat that would make her melt in her black flying leathers once the air would stop whipping her. On the other side, her thighs and her behind were hurting after so many hours in the saddle. Sure, they had halted on the long way to eat and rest, but it had been a long time for her. She couldn't even remember her last time on Rexhor's back and the realization scared her deeply. The holes in her memories were unchanged and she didn't know if she'd ever get them back. Or if she should want to.

Once close enough to see the towers of Sunspear, she encouraged Rexhor to be louder than his usual stealthy approach in order to announce their approach. She doubted her sister had sent a raven to indicate her arrival and, even should she have, dragons were faster than ravens. And big ones, even more so. Maybe not the old ones, like Vhagar, or the very young ones, but certainly the male ones in their prime, like Rexhor and Caraxes and also the very swift Red Queen of her aunt Rhaenys.

They took several turns around Sunspear, in tighter and tighter spiraling circles, in order to allow recognition. The Dornish were very clear in their policy toward dragons: none had been allowed to land in Dorne since the times of the Conquest when Queen Rhaenys and her dragon Meraxes had been killed attacking them. The only exceptions were Alaera and Rexhor after having saved more than eighty Dornish lives twelve years ago.

Alaera took the time to admire once again the seat of the House Martell, with its slender Spear Tower, more than a hundred feet tall, and the great, domed Tower of the Sun where the Prince held court and received his guests.

Only when she noticed guards waving a white flag of friendship, did she nudge Rexhor to land on a beach within walking distance from the city. She did not wait for the welcoming party but unfastened her bag and encouraged Rexhor to go his way. He did not. She realized, after so long apart, he was weary to leave her and she sensed his reluctance. She did her best to assure him of her safety and to also appease her own insecurities so that he would sense any degree of worry from her.

When a welcoming party appeared heading their way, he raised his head from her hands that were petting him and blew steam in preparation of fending off a possible attack. Even with the hot weather, she felt the temperature rising in his body, preparing himself to burn whoever would threaten her.

“Mirre sȳz, Rexhor, (all good),” she thought in order to soothe him. “Issi raqirossa, (they are friends),” she continued. “Jikagon emagon mirri kirimves! (go have some fun) Ipradagon mirri ōtor! (eat some sheep)”

No matter what encouragement she sent his way, he only took flight when she recognized the knight riding toward her at the front of the welcoming party. She started toward them, happy to see her friend after so long. For his part, Arthur dismounted from the still moving horse and ran toward her. Alaera dropped her bag and did the same, crashing into his broad chest. Almost a head taller and much broader than her, he raised in his arms and whirled her around in excitement. When Alaera's feet finally touched the ground her head was still spinning but she was laughing out loud with joy.

“I knew no other dragon would dare come our way!” he said, his smile still bright, his hands holding hers.

“Glad to see you, my friend!” she replied, just as happy as he was of their reunion.

“How is it that you do not age, Princess?” he asked, taking her in.

“I ignore responsibilities and let my elders get there first, Lord Dayne!” she replied mischievously. “Is that gray I see in your hair?” she asked, pretending to look closely at his temples.

“As if!” he laughed out loud. “We are both lucky in our coloring, Princess!” he said, winking.

“I did not dare hope to find you here. Is Oriana also here?” she asked as he lifted her bag and slung it over his shoulder with ease.

“Not this time. She stayed in Starfall. She might be with child,” he said and she sensed some sadness there.

He started toward the other members of the welcoming party but she stopped him by laying a hand on his arm. “Is she well?”

He shortly avoided her gaze, looking at his boots. “Our three boys are growing strong, but she really wants a little girl. We lost one a year and a half ago, two days after birth ....she came too early…” He choked on the last words, eyes slightly glistening. This man loved his wife more than she had thought him capable back when Alaera had goaded Oriana into giving him a second chance and then chaperoned them on several walks around Sunspear. She had even danced at their wedding.

“Oh, Arthur, I am so sorry!” she said and squeezed his arm. He covered her hand with his big palm and nodded in acknowledgement, head bowed so that she touched her forehead to his for a couple of moments. Their pain was also hers. They were her people in ways no others had been.

“She would love to see you,” he said, forcing himself back to cheer. “Maybe you can convince your beast we're saving some really good mutton for him in Starfall!” he said cheekily and Alaera saw the twenty year old scoundrel she had befriended long ago still resided in this lord and family man.

“Don't say that too loud or I might find myself dragonless!” she replied as they started toward the welcoming party that awaited some paces away.

Alaera was glad when she dismounted the steed that brought her to the Prince's Keep and did her best not to show the pains she suffered. Though a room and a bath were most probably already prepared for her, she insisted on appearing in front of the Prince of Dorne as her matter was very pressing. She did her best to redo her braid, which Arthur had failed to point out was in complete disarray, but knew there was not much she could do. She had flown for more than a day and slept reclined on Rhexhor's side, after all.

Per her request, she was accompanied in the Tower of the Sun where the throne room of the Princes of Dorne was situated since the union between Dornish and the Rhoynar. Two twin seats presided the great hall, one with the Martell spear inlaid in gold on its back, the other bearing the blazing Rhoynish sun. Alaera knew very well the histories and loved how the Rhoynar had been integrated in the Dornish culture and especially how they had contributed to the cultural and social development of the entire region.

“Princess Alaera Targaryen, daughter of King Viserys Targaryen,” the guard standing at the door announced her. She made her way into the room, still quite full with nobles, Arthur following a few paces behind. As an unheard of sign of respect, she hadn't even been requested to leave her weapons before entering as was usual.

“The Dragon of Dorne returns!” Prince Qoren boomed from his throne, standing with open arms. Alaera did not make the mistake of thinking it a gesture of friendship or affection. She was walking toward a scorpion on his own territory and she would never underestimate his poison. Time had been good to the Prince. Five years her senior, he was a tall and strong man, even if not very broad shouldered, still with no sign of a belly or of any acquired weakness of the body. She had to admit he was even more attractive than ten years ago when she had last seen him, olive skinned as most sandy Dornishmen, with inquisitive amber eyes, a strong chin and barely a hint of gray at his temples in his wavy dark hair.

But Alaera knew the man behind the appearance. Twelve years ago, after she had just saved his life and those of his two eldest children, Aliandra and Qyle, and those of many nobles of his court, he had chosen to sow resentment against her while she was still his honored guest. He had declared her “the Dragon of Dorne” not only in Sunspear, but also to her father, the King, through a letter of apparent gratitude he had sent him. On her return home she had been met with even more suspicion than usual and she had been forced to fight to dismantle the added mistrust of her that the dornish Prince had induced to the Court in King's Landing.

“Thank you for receiving me, Prince Qoren,” she said with the smallest bow of her head as she reached the steps leading to his elevated throne.

On the second chair, the one carrying the Rhoynish sun, sat a young woman, so similar in appearance to the Prince, but her features fine where his were masculine. “Princess Aliandra,” she said in recognition of the youth who showed her only a reserved smile but held a glitter of interest in her lively eyes. The young woman was probably around sixteen by now, already learning from her father what it meant to rule Dorne.

Alaera's thoughts shortly flew to her own father and older sister and how it could have all been if they would consider women just as capable to rule in the other six Kingdoms as they obviously did in Dorne. That was the cultural influence of the Roynar. Funny that the Targaryen Kings named themselves Kings of the Rhoynar without having actually conquered Dorne or having learned the lessons of those masters at survival the Rhoynar had been.

On both sides of the dais stood men and women of the Prince's Council, some of them vaguely familiar to her. “What brings you so far from your home, Princess? You seemed to have long forgotten our friendship…” he inquired. “Though you have visited our western regions a couple of times over the years,” he added in a softer voice, as if insinuating something nefarious.

Alaera expected nothing less from a viper such as him and ignored the words completely. “I have been entrusted with a mission of friendship and mutual assistance by my sister, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her Name, Queen of the Andals and of the First Men, Lady of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!” she said, very careful not to include Dorne in her sister's dominion as it had not been conquered by the Targaryen. Not for lack of trying.

“I have personally written to your sister, but a couple of days ago,” Qoren Martell said, with a sly smile. “But my penmanship might not be what it was, I guess, for her to send you to further inquire,” he said, very much aware of the position of power he held in this particular negotiation.

“I know little about your correspondence with Her Grace, the Queen, but I would be honored to present her message to you, Prince Qoren. Written words are not always as expressive as those of emissaries who were once called friends,” she said, pushing him to declare something more on the subject.

His eyes shortly flickered to her back and toward the right, as if seeing someone there. “Once friends? One who has saved many of our lives will always be our friend, Princess Alaera! Dorne does not forget those who have come in peace and friendship. Nor does it forget its debts.”

“There is no debt, my Prince,” she said, as modestly as she could. She knew he hated being in her debt. But she had to rely on the fact that he loved to be alive more than he hated being indebted to a Targaryen.

She perceived movement on the periphery of her sight, to her right. She did not turn but some recognition of the shape imbedded itself deep in her chest. She had to force herself not to look, to keep her attention on the one she had come to “court” into war.

He stood and declared, “We shall hear your Queen's message tomorrow,” and Alaera took the words for what they were. That “your” before “Queen” was all she needed to hear. Denial. “Today we feast and rejoice at the return of a most beloved friend. The Dragon of Dorne has finally returned!” and cheers erupted all around the hall.

Someone continued to move to her right, behind some of the people forming a loose circle around her.
“You honor me, Your Highness!” she said, accepting the delay. It was his court, she would have to try to beat him at his game, on his territory. A true challenge if she had ever seen one, at least politically.

“Do you remember my sister, Princess Coryanne?” Qoren Martell asked in a softer tone, but Alaera recognized the sting of the scorpion. He extended his left arm toward Alaera's right where the shape from earlier materialized into the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, the one she had loved. The one person who had thoroughly broken her young heart ten years ago. The one person Alaera Targaryen had obstinately avoided for all these years.

Chapter Text

A very young Alaera Targaryen had at times thought herself a future Septa, only she didn't like the Septas chasing her around the Keep and forcing her to recite prayers to the Seven. By the time she was sixteen, after evading several offers of courtship and marriage, she had actually thought she might avoid the whole matrimony idea and simply remain princess, daughter, sister and the best - if mostly absent - aunt to Rhaenyra's sons, a spinster dragonrider always on the move, coming back to her nephews with stories of adventure in far off lands. She had seen what love had done to the women around her and had decided that was not something she desired to ever experience.

The only one to have actually caught her interest had been her cousin Laena, the daughter of Princess Rhaenys and of the Sea Snake, Corlys Velaryon. After Alicent Hightower married their father, an act of betrayal to Rhaenyra, she had become close to Laena, even more so after being betrothed to Laenor, Laena's younger brother. Though almost ten years older than Alaera, Laena had always treated her with kindness and had even at times shown some interest in the books the eleven-year old Alaera always carried around. But Alaera did not understand herself enough to recognize her budding feelings, nor did she grasp the reason for her own anger at the news of Laena's engagement to her uncle Daemon not long after Rhaenyra's disastrous wedding to Laenor. Suffice to say her admiration for the older woman never decreased and she happily accepted her uncle's invitations to visit when they settled in Pentos. By the time Alaera landed for the first time in Dorne, not long after her eighteenth nameday, she had already steeled her heart and convinced herself there was to be no love in her life.

Turning now to her right, where all her senses told her Coryanne Martell stood, Alaera felt once again the same intense fluttering in her chest she had sensed back then as she had first laid eyes on the beautiful Dornish woman. She gathered all her strength and met the almond shaped deep brown eyes of her first love. The moments until their gazes met for the first time in ten years seemed to take ages. She wanted it to last forever, to somehow avoid being engulfed by that deep gaze that had always been able to pierce her soul and read her every thought. But alas, clear blue met dark brown and the clash reverberated in her entire being. Was it her imagination or the tremble she fought to control passed through the other woman too? Was Alaera the only one who still felt the pull between them or was Coryanne just as affected?

“Lady Coryanne, it is…a joy to see you thriving,” Alaera said when she regained control of herself.

“Princess Alaera,” the woman bowed slightly, but her eyes never left Alaera's, even when she inclined her head and had to look through her long, dark lashes. Those eyes, Alaera thought, how many promises she had seen there years ago. She knew the passion boiling beneath those pools. She had bathed in them and it had been life-changing for the once inexperienced young woman she had been, already set upon a road of loneliness. “You have been missed,” Coryanne said in her deep breathy voice and Alaera discerned a tone of sadness behind the politeness. Her eyes quickly flickered to the other woman's full lips, now slightly parted, and her mind threatened to go even deeper in memories she had done her best to hide in deep recesses of her mind, never to be unearthed again.

She forced herself away from the incredible pull Coryanne still had on her and turned to Qoren, who was watching them intently. “Prince Qoren, I'm afraid I have pushed my dragon very hard to reach you as fast as possible. He is famished and will most certainly abuse the hospitality of your herds, for which I will, of course, reimburse you in triple. Your people are safe, I assure you!” she said apologetically.

“Nonsense, my dear Princess! He can have all the sheep he wants,” the man said with a gesture of benevolence, arms open, an inviting half-smile on his lips.

“He has grown since you've last seen him,” she said with a swell of pride warming her. How, she wondered, given what she had put Rexhor through. “He greedily partakes in cattle lately,” she added.

“Everything for our friends and honored guests!” Prince Qoren announced for all to hear. “Rooms have already been prepared for you, Princess. And also suitable attire for the festivities in your honor tonight, just in case you came…unprepared,” he said with a look down her body as if assessing her dark riding clothes as lacking. He then turned his back to her, dismissing her for all to see, and made his way to sit on his raised chair again. “My sister will show you the way, should you have forgotten,” he added, leaning back in a posture of utter relaxation, head slightly tilted to the right, his fingers tracing his lower lip while looking at her.

Alaera made no move to leave until their eyes met again at which time she allowed the left corner of her mouth to raise in acknowledgement. “Your friendship knows no bounds, Prince Qoren,” she said, “I remain in awe, as always,” she said and turned to leave. She noticed Arthur making a move to follow in her steps but he was stopped before he could reach her.

“Lord Dayne, what news from our western border?” Qoren asked and Alaera knew exactly what the viper was doing, by detaining her closest friend to allow his sister to play whatever game he had requested of her but at the same time hinting he had information about the Hightowers while she was still in hearing distance. After all, the seat of House Dayne, Starfall, was on that western border of Dorne, but a short flight from Oldtown where Queen Alicent's cousin Ormund Hightower now ruled.

Alaera knew she was playing a game she did not yet know the rules to. Well, not all of them. She had no idea just how much Qoren knew about what had happened in King's Landing in the past fortnights, or on Dragonstone for that matter. And even worse, she had no idea what he might want in exchange for his support to Rhaenyra's cause. Marriage? His daughter Aliandra was still unmarried but Jacaerys was already engaged to Baela, Daemon's daughter. Even if he did not know that, she would not lie and barter something she could not honor. She also doubted Qoren would accept anything but a marriage to put a Martell on the Iron Throne. Then what could she offer? Rhaenyra had no daughters to marry to Qyle, Qoren's only son. She had nothing to bargain with. And still, there was something he wanted. Even after ten years, she recognised Prince Qoren Martell had become even more astute than he had been at twentyfive.

“You look unchanged,” Coryanne said softly, walking just one step before her, snapping Alaera out of her reverie. That voice pulled strings she thought to have severed long ago. In her mind she remembered hearing the same voice saying the words that first broke her, back when she had still been hopeful and in love: “I cannot do this anymore. I want more.” She felt the shadow of that pain thought buried long ago. But Aemond had managed the same but a few days ago. “Though maybe colder….” she said but Alaera interrupted her.

“You look happy,” she said and did her best to keep the bitterness from her voice. She truly did hope Coryanne was happy, even when she herself was miserable, having just lost her second chance at love. Two unseen wounds, one fresh and bleeding still, one old now ripped anew. The pain of Coryanne telling her she was not enough was still there, just like the memories of Aemond's lips on her skin, be it on her hand, her lips or her thighs. The brush of his cold fingers on her heated skin… But also all that had followed, him choosing power and revenge over her.

“Do not believe all that you see,” Coryanne said, with a side-glance toward Alaera.

“Yes, you taught me that already,” Alaera whispered without thinking. It was maybe petty of her, but she had believed all that Coryanne had told her, all the love she had shown her. And then, at once, it had proven to be just words easily scattered by the desert wind.

At her words, Coryanne stopped and grabbed Alaera's hand with no care for all the eyes everywhere around them, in the corridors of the palace. “There is nothing I regret more,” she said in a lower tone, but full of conviction. Alaera shortly looked at the place where the other woman was touching her and allowed the shiver to go through her, then raised her eyes and thought she could see sincerity in those deep pools of molten chocolate. But she did not trust her instincts when it came to matters of the heart anymore. In following them she had failed miserably twice already.

“My room?” she said, indicating they should take the conversation to a private location. She was also tired and dirty, with dust and sand in her hair and coating her skin.

Of course the room was the same she had occupied twelve years ago, on her first visit to Dorne, and then several times again over the next two years. The same room where she had been first touched by another, where she had discovered herself to be a creature full of passion and deep desires. Her eyes locked on the bed where she had come undone countless times under the hands of the woman now standing behind her.

“Thank you,” Alaera said, as detached as she managed, dismissive. She knew her voice was raspy, but she hoped Coryanne believed it to be caused by the time spent on dragonback continuously whipped by winds.

“Alaera, please forgive me!” Coryanne said with more pathos than Alaera expected from the self assured woman in front of her. “I did not know what I was giving up. I was but twenty two, I wanted a family, children…” she continued, her eyes now on the floor, hands wringing together.

“I do not fault you, Coryanne. I am glad that you have that. Three children, isn't it?” she said with more detachment than she felt.

“Yes. A girl and two boys. Alora, the eldest, will soon be nine,” she said and Alaera noticed a mother's pride in the other woman's voice. She envied her shortly, but then remembered her own mother and another pain resurfaced together with memories of screams and rivers of blood and then her mother's unmoving form. She had to close her eyes and shake her head to erase the images.

“Alaera?” the other woman asked with concern in her voice. “Are you…” she started to ask, coming closer to Alaera who had turned her back to her.

She breathed deeply and turned to Coryanne again. “Alora…not a very Dornish name,” she said, a bit mischievously.

“Not yet, maybe,” Coryanne said, with a slight impishness in her voice and Alaera remembered the wild and rebellious twenty year old she had given her all to. “Actually, there are a few girls named Alaera, daughters born to some of those whose lives you saved twelve years ago,” she added with a kind smile and warmth in her voice.

Alaera said nothing, her eyes unable to let go of the Dornish woman. “I am truly happy for you, Coryanne,” she said, forcing herself away from the danger of falling anew. She needed to keep her distance and not allow the woman in front of her to burrow herself back into her now twice broken soul. “I could not have given you any of that. I do not blame you, as you made the right decision for yourself.” She thought she noticed insecurity on Coryanne's features.

She took in the look of surprise on the other woman's features. She knew her words now painted a very different person to the desperate girl she had been when Coryanne had broken things off ten years ago. She had cried and argued and protested, hoping to somehow change Coryanne's mind. All she had done back then was to prove her own immaturity, her incapacity to respect another's choices when they did not align with her own wishes. “Thank you for showing me to my room. I doubt I would have found my way by myself,” she added and took some satisfaction, however small, from the fleeting look of hurt that passed over Coryanne's beautiful face.

After a few moments, Coryanne schooled her face into cold politeness and said, “You must be tired, I'll leave you to rest, Princess.” She made a small curtsy and left. Alaera stood stiffly, with her back to the door, looking out the window to the dark blue waters beyond, until she heard the door close. Only then did she allow herself a deep breath, only when alone did she let herself sit in the closest chair, her shoulders hunching forward and her hands covering her face, doing her best to stop the prickling in her eyes.

This was why she had avoided Sunspear for so many years. She had known that seeing Coryanne again would bring it all back: the flutters of her first love, the excitement of meeting her deep brown eyes with hers, the craving to touch her olive skin and find out if it was just as soft as it had been before, the temptation to pass her fingers through the other woman's dark, heavy tresses. To touch Coryanne's lips with hers.

When she managed to stand again she checked the bath already prepared for her. She was glad it had cooled somewhat, she preferred it so given that the sun was still shining its heat onto this most southern region of the realm. Here there was still no hint of the winter already chilling the northern kingdoms.

The sun had started its descent into the western sea when Alaera managed to peel her clothes off and finally soak herself into the clear water of the immense sunken tub of the bathing chamber. By the time she pulled herself out of the refreshing pool, dusk had fallen over Sunspear. She was not surprised to find several dresses of layered silk and sheer material cut in the Dornish style but in the colors of her house, black and red. As expected, they were all cut with a deep plunging neckline in the front, exposing more than Alaera was used or wanted to show. She chose the one she thought most simple, a black elegant one with a high collar, only to find the back was almost bare were it not for a sheer material with the three headed dragon embroidered on it. She did not remember the dresses from ten years before when she had been a frequent and honoured guest. So he knew. Qoren had already heard of the conflict brewing up north and had been waiting for her to plead her sister's cause. She smiled faintly and decided she would have to make a compromise if she was to have any chance at getting support for Rhaenyra.

By the time maids came to help her, she was already dressed and her hair brushed. Alaera had to fight to keep them from using too much color on her face, but was glad for her silver locks to be braided so that her neck was exposed to the evening breeze. The looking glass showed her a beautiful woman, still younger than the years and the weight Alaera felt pressing on her. Part of her wished to go back to her past visits here, in a time when she still had hope of love and peace.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her reverie and she was glad to find Arthur Dayne waiting to escort her to the festivities in her honor.

“I thought you might have to keep away,” she said, taking his offered arm and strolling the corridors without haste.

“It would only attract more attention. Your connection to my family is known,” he said and she understood the significance: sometime in the last five years the Prince of Dorne hat found out of her short lived marriage to the late Lord Alaric Dayne, Arthur's elderly father.

Should they avoid each other would only throw suspicion over them. After all, their friendship had been noticed from the start, twelve years ago when she first came to Dorne, even if back then it was first rumored that a marriage between them was possible. Their presumed courtship had been quickly contradicted by her involvement with Coryanne.

Her attachment to his ailing father years later was less known, having taken place at Starfall, in the privacy of the Dayne seat. The fact that the old Lord Dayne passed only a few moons after their nuptials was also known only by few. Or the fact that Alaera had been the one to ask for the ailing man's hand in marriage when he could barely assent with more than a few words and a nod. She had been in need of a husband so she could quiet the growing voices in King's Landing set upon finding her a spouse as she was way too old to still be unmarried. So she had married with no political gain, in secret, only to return a respectable widow in mourning, formally belonging to the House Dayne led by Arthur who would never suggest a husband to her.

That half a year she had spent at Starfall had been the best and quietest time of her life. She had enjoyed the distance from her own family but mostly being easily included in Arthur and Oriana's. She had become an aunt to their children, a friend to his two younger sisters, had been a witness to one of them being wedded and to the birth of his daughter. She had taken the opportunity to fly to Oldtown several times to visit her youngest brother, Daeron, and actually build a rapport with him. She had seen her first husband degrade, stop speaking and eating, only to then take the black robes of mourning for a man she had respected but never even truly cared for. For half a year Alaera had enjoyed a different kind of life than she had built for herself and knew therefore it was not for her. The guilt of ignoring her father's sickness and the search for a cure weighed heavy on her shoulders. She left soon after the funeral and had only returned once since to Starfall, but had carried them, her second family, always with her. Alaera knew she would only marry again should she find a love like Arthur and Oriana's. She had thought she had. She had been wrong. Again.

Shortly before the entrance to the hall, Alaera pulled her arm out of Arthur's and stopped.

“What's wrong?” he asked, noticing her worried face.

“Everything,” she answered, her eyes flitting between him and the big opened doors that allowed many mingled voices to come through. A feeling of doom took over her, a heaviness pressing on her chest, taking her air away.

“Are you well?” Arthur asked, worry obvious on his face.

“I don't know,” she asked, looking around as if looking for something, without knowing what exactly. “I just feel like… I shouldn't be here!” she said certain of this one thing, if of nothing else. In answer to her distress, a piercing roar came from outside the keep where Rexhor was soaring.

They could hear the gasps of amazement Qoren's guests made running to the open windows in hope of catching a glimpse of her dragon. “Where is it?” “Can you see it?” “The dragon is so dark you can't even see it!” “There it is!” “Where?” “It just flew over the moon!”

Alaera felt a question deep inside her and saw the full moon through eyes that were not hers. She stumbled and almost fell had it not been for the wall on her left and Arthur who caught her right hand and held her upright. “Alaera, you need a healer,” he said commandingly. “Servant!” she heard him say in another direction.

“No!” she said and straightened. “I am well!” she said with more conviction that she had.

“Not that I can see…” Arthur said with a suspicious voice.

“I will be!” she insisted and pulled her hand out of his. She turned to a window and took a few deep breaths, closed her eyes and extended her thoughts toward the sky and the winged creature there and answered the question. “Not yet,” she thought, calming herself and hoping Rexhor could perceive it. Though deep inside she was certain something disastrous had happened, something that would change things forever.

The evening's festivities were as lavish as she had expected of the court of Qoren Martell: more food and drinks than the dozens of guests could possibly eat in a week, music and dancers to entertain, even a short theater play retelling the bravery and cunning of the Dornish in defending their lands from invading Targaryens more than a century before.

Seated on the Prince's left between Qoren and Coryanne, Alaera felt trapped, her breathing difficult. She was not one for feasts and disliked being the centre of attention. Good thing it had not been often expected of her, even her father had understood and accepted her shyness. She was thankful for Arthur's presence and for the worried glances he threw her way every once in a while. It seemed to her he knew her better than any other person, be it parent, sibling or even lover.

Alaera did not usually drink more than a couple of sips of wine, more so the strong and heady Dornish one. She did her best to eat some of the food placed before her but she did not pay attention, constantly on edge about what she had felt before, trying to find an opportunity to speak to the Prince seated to her right, but he obviously ignored her.

She thought she might have drank a few too many sips of wine when she noticed her body becoming warmer and her thoughts somewhat slower. Alaera took another chalice from the table but as soon as the liquid reached her lips she recognised again the strong wine. Didn't she have one with water? She was sure there had been one earlier. Her head started to pulse in the rhythm of the music. It was then when she noticed the dancers before the Prince's table turning their backs and changing places with those behind them. A well known silhouette appeared in the front, head slightly bowed, features still hidden behind her arms and the sheaths of sheer silks hanging from them. The fine movements of her body told Alaera who she was. There was no need for the dancer to reveal her face, Alaera knew it well, even if the ten years passed had made some changes. Not as slender as in their youth, her hips slightly wider probably from pregnancies and childbirthing, her breasts heavier, her face with a few fine lines of both laughter and worry, her beauty seemed to have only grown in Alaera's eyes.

When she lifted her eyes, Coryanne looked at Alaera as though there was no one else in the entire feasthall but the two of them. She continued to dance barely breaking eye contact when she had to turn or change places, her movements fluid and enticing, her hips swinging with trained ease and finesse. Alaera could remember the other woman trying to teach her long ago, in their quiet times between bouts of passion, sometimes rekindled by Coryanne's dancing. Alaera seemed to slide between present and past, the heat rising in her body, Coryanne's inviting arms and hips calling to her in a way she had hoped herself indifferent to. Her tongue was parched so she reached again for the chalice before her and brought it to her mouth. She stopped at once, her eyes still on the beautiful woman appearing and disappearing in front of her. She sniffed the wine and thought she noticed something there, a smell not supposed to be there. Her eyes snapped to the Prince sitting next to her and noticed him watching her intently. Alaera smiled and put the chalice down with a slight tremble in her hand. A thought seemed to pierce the haze in her head and at the same time a shriek of warning coming from another. She had been poisoned and Rexhor had noticed too.

She needed to get out, without letting them know that she knew, if possible. She did her best to stand up without stumbling but a wave of lightheadedness hit her and she had to steady herself with a hand against the back of her chair. She chose an unmoving point on the wall to stare at and took a deep breath. She could not tarry, they were certainly watching and would most certainly notice how impaired she was. Alaera numbered to five and walked toward the nearest exit to the open balcony that surrounded the feast hall. Several people asked if she was well but she barely managed to answer that yes, all was good while still walking. She stopped only when fresh air hit her face and she steadied herself against the outer ledge, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. It helped some but not enough. Whatever had been in her wine had reached her head and was not easily leaving her body. She heard the beating of wings in the distance. He was coming for her. She had to get to him before his rage would be felt in his fire.

“Alaera,” she heard a deep voice, “are you feeling well?” Coryanne appeared at her side and took her hand then pulled slightly to turn Alaera to her. She came even closer and touched her forehead with the back of her hand, looking for a fieber most likely. Was it real, her concern, wondered Alaera. Or was she a part of it? Did she know that Alaera's wine had been dosed with something?

“Look at me, beautiful,” Coryanne said with some command in her voice. She took Alaera's face in her hand and turned it to her, forcing their eyes to meet. Her heady smell of spices and musk hit Alaera and brought again thoughts of bodies moving together so long ago. She was unable to break her gaze away, sliding between Coryanne's eyes, deep pools of black, and her rouged full lips, a deep bow in the middle. They had been so soft, so reverent on her skin… She noticed her own breathing, shallow and fast, her body burning, her mind still hazy. When the other woman brought her lips close enough that she could almost taste their sweetness, Alaera knew she had to break away now or she would give in to the temptress pressing herself against her. Her eyes closed, she felt the brush of lips against hers and she at once pulled herself forcefully away.

She was already running, almost stumbling every few steps, when she opened her eyes and saw the steps toward the sandy beach. She descended them quickly and only fell when she reached the ground. She ignored the voices behind her and ran, knowing she needed to move her blood faster in order to push the poison coursing through her. It would either lessen in strength or kill her, if it was one of the lethal ones. Probably not. It would make no sense. Dead, she was worth nothing. Except to the greens. Had Qoren sided with Aegon? She could not convince herself of that. Qoren was smart. He would want something and Aegon was not the type to negotiate. Otto Hightower, on the other hand….

She had to somehow clear her head. She heard the flapping of heavy wings getting closer and she looked at the dark sky and stumbled down. The sand cushioned her fall again and she heard voices behind her, calls of `Princess` and `Let us help` but they only motivated her to push herself up in spite of the nausea and start running again. A strong gust of wind and sand hit her and she saw Rexhor prepare his fire, should she need it. She moved even faster, eager to reach him and reassure him she was alright. She almost crashed into him and grabbed his scales to get a grip on him but also herself, breathing deeply and doing her best to calm the fast beating in her chest. The wave of relief and safety that filled her she then turned toward him and she felt the heat in his body slowly diminish as he calmed.

As the voices approached she noticed Rexhor tense again but she patted him, then turned to those coming close. “Please, stand back!” she yelled. “All is well,” she added.

A tall shape approached slowly when all others had stopped. As the moon's light shone on his hair she knew it was Arthur. Bloody fool, she thought but it still warmed her heart, to know he would near an angry dragon just to make sure she was well. “Please, tell him not to kill me, I have small children,” he said loudly, still carefully walking toward her.

She continued soothing Rexhor who sniffed carefully the approaching man only to then relax and shuffle to find a comfortable position in the sand. Alaera went to Arthur, some steps away from the dragon. “Tell them to leave, I'll stay here for now,” she said and a wave of dizziness hit her again. Arthur caught her arms in his and sustained her while she closed her eyes to stop the world from spinning. Rexhor lifted his head again and she felt his gaze almost burning her back.

“You need a healer!” Arthur said, worried.

“No need, the poison is already slowly wearing off,” she said, opening her eyes.

“The what now?” he asked, anger coating his deep voice.

“Don't,” she whispered. “No need for all of them to know,” she added, nodding to the group still talking among themselves behind them, not daring to approach because of the dragon, but also too curious to actually leave and return to their party.

“I'll take care of it, “ Arthur said, already devising an excuse. He made sure she was stable enough then went to the guards in the group and, after a few moments, they inclined their heads and started back toward the feast hall, followed by all the other people who kept throwing glances toward them even as they were making their way back.

He returned and sat on the sand next to Alaera, shoulder to shoulder, watching the moon shining its light over the southern sea. “Fuck,” he muttered.

She snorted into laughter, “That pretty much sums it,” she said and rested against his side.

“Who do we have to kill? Do you know who it was?” he asked and she squeezed his arm, in thanks for his offered assistance.

“I suspect Qoren, but…. I'll have to think better about it after it wears off and I've had a couple hours of sleep.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“What was it?” he then asked.

“No idea,” she said. “It certainly contained an aphrodisiac though,” she said and he glanced her way with a questioning frown. “Coryanne was dancing and I felt incredibly pulled to her. I bet her dance was not as enticing as I saw it…” she said, a wry smile on her lips.

“You still…” he started but stopped, not wanting to help bring back memories she might be avoiding.

“She was my first…everything. But mostly the first I loved. I still sometimes long for her,” she added, and felt his arm encircle her shoulders pulling her to him, then his lips soft on her forehead. She wiped a single tear that had escaped her eye unnoticed.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“What I came to do,” she said. “And not touch their wine ever again!” she added and his short laugh matched her own.

“Do you think she was part of it?” Arthur asked, uneasiness in his voice, as if he hated even considering it. The three of them had been so close all those years ago, even if he had known that something more was happening between the two young women.

“I hope not. We are not the same two people who fell in love twelve years ago, but still… If I accede that she might be able to do this…then I am an even poorer judge of character than I thought!" Alaera mused, knowing now that what Dorne had gifted her had not been Coryanne and their intense if short love, but the steadfast man next to her and their friendship. “Tell me about the boys,” she said and smiled, pushing all thoughts of poisons and political machinations out of her thoughts. Tonight would be for her and Arthur, for reconnecting and ignoring all the challenges that tomorrow would bring. Alaera Targaryen had her closest beings on either side and the full moon shone its delicate light on the waves crashing at their feet making the night magical and pure, isolating them from the ugliness of the world.