Calla

Calla sat on the deck of the ship, Crystal in hand.

Though her eyes were closed, she did not have to look to know that Crystal was gleaming brightly. There was only one thing she needed to do to create strong wind.

She imagined that she was a mountain, sitting on rocks formed hundreds of thousands of years ago. Nothing in the world could move her or destroy her. She was simply there, she would always be there.

It was then Calla felt the air around her.

There was a flow here, a flow of countless particles around her, creating a delicate balance. All Calla had to do was to catch it...

...And shift it.

The wind blew around her. This was not the first time, but she still heard gasps somewhere not far away. Calla was revered and feared in equal measure amongst the sailors. A warrior, they called her to her face, but behind her back they called her a witch.

Remembering Bloodraven and Shiera Seastar, Calla smiled wryly. It was ironic that she would gain the same reputation as her enemies.

Still, it was better than the start of this journey. Ever since she killed Greyjoy in single combat, they had learned to gossip behind her back. It was for the best. She would never be loved among those men, so they would have to fear her instead.

Calla was not her father. Her sword could not bring her anything but blood and tears. Besides…

She did not choose the sword. The sword chose her. That night, when she was deep in her sadness and pain, Crystal came to her. It appeared between her hands as if it was the most natural thing in this world.

It was part of her ever since, replacing what she once had... and what she would have had. Her growth. Her womanhood.

...Though, would it be any different, if his mind was chained down to another woman?

Calla clenched her teeth. She had to calm down. If only to keep the wind going.

It was on that day, after Aenys announced his intent to stop the Ironborn and appointed Calla as commander of the expedition, when he drew Blackfyre and ordered Calla to kneel.

"Calla Blackfyre, in the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave." Aenys gently placed Blackfyre on Calla's shoulders.

Calla shook and stared at Aenys with surprise. He smirked, showing half of his teeth, the same smirk he would give whenever he answered a question correctly when he was younger. It was smug and adorable in equal terms.

"In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent."

Was that wise? Calla thought. There was never a female knight in the history of Westeros. No doubt some of the Faith and many proud lords would be enraged. Aenys could not afford to make more enemies, just to give Calla this honour.

"In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women…"

But whenever she looked up, Aenys' confident smile was telling her to simply accept it. He planned all these to cheer her up, to make up for what he said before. This was the sweetest present he could have given to her.

"...Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

There was only one answer.

"I swear." Calla's voice rang out loud and clear.

"Now rise, Lady Calla Blackfyre, the Crystal Knight, the finest blade of House Blackfyre!" Aenys proclaimed with a large smile on his face.

Being king had stressed Aenys out, but he was not a bad boy. He was smart, he must know he could trust Calla now. And this was the proof of his trust.

Calla thought this day would be perfect. And yet…

At night, Aenys invited Aegor and Calla to have a drink. It was, in his words, "To clear the unpleasantness between us."

Calla thought it was unnecessary, but it was not a request she would refuse. Aenys poured the wine for them himself, a smile on his face. The seats were placed close to the warm, comfortable fire.

Aegor did not waste time. "So what is it that you want to discuss, Your Grace?"

"Oh, nothing, just a quick chat," Aenys said, drinking slowly from his goblet, "We barely had any time to sit down and collect our thoughts ever since we arrived in Westeros. Moreover, I want to…" He raised his goblet for a toast. "To Daemon and Haegon."

"To Daemon and Haegon," Calla and Aegor echoed.

It was after they all emptied the goblet that Aenys spoke again. "I need to confess," he whispered, his voice low, "I never liked Daemon much."

So did I, Calla thought, and it was because of her dismissing Daemon's dreams that led to him coming to Westeros by himself. If she had told him what she had seen after receiving Crystal, and the future that had been awaiting him…

If she had put more effort into caring for Daemon, as she should have, he would not have gone off on his own. If she had not scolded him so harshly after she caught up with him at Whitewalls, he wouldn't have fought so rashly on the frontlines, desperate to prove himself.

If only, if only, if only. But there were no "ifs", for time only flew one way. She could only make sure she would not make the same mistake with Aenys and Daena.

"Daemon had his own followers and he was never close with any of us, and he always talked about his visions…" Aenys continued. "But he's still my brother. I should… I should be fighting on his side that day. Him and Haegon."

"Haegon couldn't save him," Aegor said, "and he was close to Daemon. I couldn't save him, either. You couldn't change anything even if you were there."

"But I…" Aenys drank deeply. When he put down the goblet and reached to refill, there was a strange, sad smile on his face. "I was only there after everything was finished. After Calla killed Bloodraven. Even if I couldn't save them, I shouldn't..."

"I," Calla's voice cracked. "I could have saved Haegon."

"Calla?" Aegor stared at her with concern in his eyes.

"If Crystal… if I knew how to use it earlier." If she knew that Crystal could make her so fast…

But then, would she have discovered that if she hadn't watched Haegon die?

Before that day, she thought she had unlocked all potential Crystal had. The blinding light that could stun all her enemies. The strong wind that could bring a fleet safely through any sea. The fire that burned half of the Reds to death at Whitewalls.

But the power she discovered on Redgrass Field that day…

Electricity. The foreign word came straight to her lips, the same way Calla intuitively knew Crystal's name. It made her move fast, faster than her thoughts, faster than anyone should be.

That day, when she saw Daemon dead on the ground, when she saw Dark Sister run through Haegon, something inside her snapped. Everything was slowed. She saw the light go out in Haegon's eyes. She saw Bloodraven's satisfied smile, the Targaryen bastard so utterly convinced that he had crushed House Blackfyre once more.

That smile turned into surprise when Calla skipped across the hundreds of soldiers between them, and picked up Haegon's body before he fell to the ground. "Hae-gon," she remembered she had called, her voice strangely low and her words long, but he was not there. He was already gone.

The hatred, the bloodlust she felt at that moment was stronger than any other time in her life. Bloodraven had comically widened his eye, an eye that left its socket less than half of a second later, together with a thousand other body parts.

Still, she had not stopped. Could not stop. Crystal hewed through Bloodraven's flesh again and again, even when there was nothing left of the man but blood and meat and guts.

She had not realised what she was doing until Aegor held her with all his strength, hugging the dangerous madwoman wielding a magical sword, telling her to calm down, telling her this was enough, telling her they had won.

She had broken down in his arms then, sobbing like a little girl. It was only when Aenys came and picked up the swords that she had resumed some of her composure.

If she had seen Haegon a second earlier, could she have changed his fate? Could Calla catch Haegon before Dark Sister killed him?

"This is pointless," Aegor said, breaking Calla out of her recollection. "We all did our best. No blame should be put on either of you."

"Perhaps," Calla murmured, "but… he shouldn't have died."

"Haegon should have been king, not me," Aenys cut in, his voice laced with guilt. "I'm not like him or Father. I'm just… not like them."

He was not, Calla silently agreed. Aenys was not a warrior. He was a sweet, smart boy who often kept to himself. But Haegon was a true heir of Daemon Blackfyre, charismatic, noble, quick-witted, and excelled in all things martial. He was perfect.

But…

"You don't have to be like them. Haegon and Father, I mean," she said, her unsure words nevertheless sincere. "you will be a different kind of king from them but no less good."

"Aenys the Restorer? Aenys the Wise?" Aenys smiled wryly, his glance aimed at Aegor, "Tell me, uncle, what can I do to match Father's legacy? Because right now, the king I'm most similar to is Aegon the Dragonbane, a boy that inherited the crown after everyone died."

"It's better to be known as a king like the Dragonbane than Rhaenyra, or the second Aegon," Aegor replied with a frown. "Besides, you have—"

"I have you and Calla. And trust me, I'm very grateful for that. This victory would have been impossible without either of you. But I… I want to be more than that. More than someone who always has to rely on you two. I want to have… plans. Plans that will make me greater than Jaehaerys."

"Well, tell us what ideas you have and I'll help you with that. It's a Hand's duty to make the king's dream come true," Aegor urged.

What would that be? Calla wondered. There were a lot of things that could be improved in Westeros, but most of them would be hard to change. Aenys' plans could be foolhardy, or—

"I want to prevent the return of another Great Spring Sickness," Aenys said excitedly.

"What?" Calla blurted out. "How could that even be possible?"

It was there again, that confident smile when he thought he outplayed someone. "Didn't you complain about how King's Landing smelled? The hygiene of the city is horrible, and it's no wonder why the sickness would spread to everyone here. If we don't take action, another sickness will come again sooner or later. I'll be remembered as the king who cleaned the city."

Calla considered the idea. It was true that no one liked how the city smelled. Regardless of whether it was related to the great spring sickness, it would be a great work to clean the city— not glamorous, but work that everyone living in the city would be thankful of.

"A surprising but not unwelcome idea," Aegor commented. "There were many plans to improve the sewers before, but none were ever put to action. It won't be too troubling to restart them after peace is achieved."

"Of course I'm fixing the sewers. But there's more that I want to do…"

Not all of Aenys' plans were realistic, but Calla was glad that he was willing to share his plans nonetheless, plans which they spent the whole night discussing and improving.. Though this was not Calla's specialty, she tried to contribute as much as she could.

They opened one bottle after another. Calla was dimly aware that she was falling asleep a few hours later, but she was too tired to care. She curled up in her seat and closed her eyes.

The last thing she heard was Aegor telling her, "Good night, Calla."

She did not remember whether she had told him good night or not.

...But she did remember what happened in the morning.

The first thing she felt was the pain from her back and her head, thanks to the way she slept. The amount of wine she drank didn't help either. Slowly, she recalled what happened last night.

Aenys and Aegor were both still sleeping. There was a blanket covering her, but none on the two men. They must have covered her up after she fell asleep, and continued to talk after that.

Calla stood up carefully, so she would not wake them. She picked up two blankets and put them on Aenys and Aegor.

She took care to place them gently, but Aegor caught her by her wrist when she was about to leave. "Don't," he murmured.

Calla stared at him. His eyes were still shut close, she did not think he was awake. Still, she leaned towards him and whispered, "Don't what?"

Perhaps she already knew the answer. Perhaps she just wanted to hear him say it out loud.

"Don't go," he begged. "Please don't leave me."

It was hard to describe how much she wanted this— wanted to be needed, to be wanted, by the man who she admired more than anyone, who supported her even when people viewed it as outrageous, who gave her so much and wanted nothing in return.

But his next words froze her.

"I'm sorry, Shiera. I'm so sorry."

This was a mistake.

Calla wanted to scream, to wake him up and ask him what he meant, what happened between him and Shiera… but she could not say anything.

Would not say anything.

This was something she was better off not knowing, she told herself. She should pretend that she never heard a word he said. Because she, barely his wife, had no right to bother him for a woman in the past.

But she was still shaking.

Aegor noticed it too when he finally woke up moments later. "Calla, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she told him, but he did not believe her. He caressed her forehead, his gaze worried.

"Don't overwork yourself," he whispered.

"I know." Their gazes met.

Calla wished so much that he would not worry about her, would not treat her kindly, would not make her feel so bitter and jealous and dirty. She was not at fault here, she wanted to scream.

But neither was Aegor at fault, he was just taking care of the girl his brother entrusted to him. And he had been doing his best ever since.

...There was nothing she could do, so it would be best for her to stop thinking.

Crystal shined brightly. The wind stopped.

Calla… Calla just wanted to be loved.