For so long, my world has been grey.

Grey walls in a keep that should be red, grey hair on a head that should be silver, grey thoughts in a head that should be vibrant and full of life…

I am tired.

Tired, yes, tired is the way to put it. Not sad, not weeping, not even rage… just tired.

I can no longer muster even sorrow, where sorrow once flowed like wine.

Aerys, my Aerys, the one of my childhood… he was a bold boy, but a kind one. A grand dreamer clever with his words,

Rhaegar may not acknowledge it, but his appreciation for music is all his father's. I could never quite understand what either of them see in it.

Our marriage was not happy at first, as for all we loved each other as brother and sister, we held no passionate fires in our souls. It was not that we did not love, but that we loved others, as siblings ought to do.

I had my dashing Bonifer, for all I knew I could not wed him, a secret love kept even from my brother… and Aerys had a dozen tittering maids around him every evening, until his heart was captured by Joanna.

Oh, Joanna! If only Aerys could have married you! So beautiful you were!

I feel a smile break out upon my face despite my best intentions.

By all the Gods, Joanna… I miss you so dearly. Your skin, soft as purest silk, and laugh like bells of purest silver tinkling out.

It was no shock when Aerys loved you, for who could not? You were like the sun, radiant, your light spilling forth from between those perfect lips, every word a sunbeam that would light out souls afire with your warmth!

I feel my smile turn sour. Gods, I miss her…

If only…

I grimace.

Curse you Tywin, curse you to the Seven Hells! You took her from me, snuffed out her brilliant light, and for what? Some petty feud with Aerys?

Oh, if only Aerys could have married her… Hey may still have fallen to madness, but at least a dragon's seed, unlike a lion's, would birth no twisted dwarf to rip her in twain!

I sigh.

And Bonifer, my sweet Bonifer! A nobler knight, a nobler man you'd never meet. He was everything my brother wasn't: steadfast, true loyal, a man who could love me to the end of time, and never want another!

Never would I face the judging eyes, the solemn stares, the looks of grief and pity! My purple knight would treasure me, love me, never even think to raise a hand in anger. Oh, how I wish my Bonifer could don a cloak of white, maybe then he would not stand aside and let his king besmirch me.

Oh, Bonifer would not shame me so, as Aerys does with all his poxy whores! Does he think I cannot see them, as he walks the halls, his pants undone? His seed spilled out upon his breeches, the stench of blood and sex heavy in the air?

I grit my teeth, and hear the table creak beneath me, as if it feels my rage as well. No, I think he simply doesn't care. I think his love for me has dried up long ago.

Gods, it feels like I am in mourning even as my lord still walks, like there is some dreadful ghost that's pulled up my brother's corpse and worn it like a suit.

But I know that to be a lie.

My brother is still there, not buried beneath darkness but twisted by it, warped and changed like some reflection in the melted stone towers of this castle.

He has always held both good and ill inside him, as is the nature of all mankind, but the Aerys that was dropped in my arms after Duskendale, the twitching, screeching corpse of a man I used to love (although only as a brother)… his light had been snuffed out, leaving only the shadows of his tormented soul.

All his virtues turned to vices, and all his vices magnified.

He was always prideful, but he also had good sense, if not humility. Now, he only has a maddened, grasping arrogance, convinced the world can, should, and will bow down in supplication to him, its rightful master.

He was petty and quick to anger, but also bold and just, and quick to forgive. He reminded me so much of poor, doomed Steffon then, as much as he'll now rant and rave upon hearing the mere mention of our cousin's name. Now all he has is petty vengeance, a seething resentment that must repay tenfold even the smallest of insults, real or imagined.

He used to have such grand visions, such bold ideas, despite how often they could run into the clouds. But now that lust for life is gone, and his imagination rots, bloated with dreaming up vast conspiracies, webs of plot and treason so complex they can make the Dance seem like a training yard rivalry.

He was always charming and charismatic, for all he liked to turn that charm towards lustful ends. But now, a keep full of maidens unable to deny him has turned him into a poxy whoremonger, his hands more often touching supple flesh than even air.

No, it would be so much simpler if there was nothing of my charming brother left. The bastard doesn't even have the decency to let me mourn him.

I feel my focus shift inward, my rage crystallizing as I think back upon the injustices perpetuated upon me, my mug and knife faintly buzzing as they tremble against the wooden table.

In a world more just than this, I would perhaps have wed a rose, or else a trout or even falcon. Another House, any house, a restitution for the shame my grandfather's children brought the realm when they broke all their betrothals.

But no. My father, so ever careful and deliberate, raised up whorish Jenny's maddened witch, a sign the past would once more bind the present, his son his namesake born anew!

I growl.

The fool. If mere tradition worked to make men loyal, then all the realms adored Unworthy Aegon, spouse of sisters, the greatest king since wise Jaehaerys flew!

I almost jump as Ser Jonothor taps my shoulder, only my long-trained instincts muting my reaction to a minor flinch. I feel my fork break in my hand, bending nearly in half, and I curse inwardly. Damnit, not again!

I move my hand underneath the table to hide the ruined utensil. That's the third time this month!

"My Queen" he says, eyes concerned, "Are you quite alright?"

"Of course!" I say, putting on my blandest court smile, "Why ever would I not be?"

He grunts, shuffling awkwardly. "Ah… My apologies, my Queen. Your eyes looked a bit jaundiced, and I thought you to be ill. It seems as if it was just a trick of the light, though."

"Indeed" I say with a pleasant nod, brushing off the odd comment. Still though, leaving this place is not the worst idea. I can feign illness, which should deliver me a short reprieve from this… this humiliation before the Lords of the realm.

I feel my fist clench again.

Gods, look what I have become. The battered wife of a mad King, looked at only with pity and disdain. Shunted off to a small corner while the true Lords and Ladies feast, like some… like I'm Jenny herself, some shameful secret!

I startle when I hear a snap, and grimace as my crystal goblet cracks in half, little spiderwebs shooting out from where my fingers have dug into it, along with two of the other glasses near me.

Seven be damned, you'd think these Westerlander Crystal was some common quartz, with how brittle they are always made!

Yet one more injustice to lay at Tywin's feet. I have no doubt he used his handship to secure some lucrative contract for the Red Keep, to supply only his crystal for the royal family, for I've never seen any other.

Before my rage can fill me up once more, I hear a call from nearby.

"Ser Jonothor! I have been meaning to speak with you!"

Of course. Ser Jonothor is a famous knight, who would want the broken, despised queen? Don't you know the King despises her?

My guard turns to face the intruder, only for his face to turn to confusion. "…my Lady Blackmoth?"

I have to repress a sigh. Of course, the woman would want to see me. She's most likely not ever seen even…

Standing next to her is something impossible. A knight clad in purple, blond-haired with eyes of bonnie blue, smiling at me like I was the sun that lit the world.

"…B-Bonifer?"

"…Princess."

I reach out, certain this is yet another dream, but stop myself before I break propriety.

His face is weathered, struck by the ravages of age and time which have struck me as well, but he is no less handsome for it. I find myself wanting to inquire as to the source of each individual scar and crease, a thousand stories since we've parted.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I'm almost jerked back by the restraining hand of my Kingsguard. "My Queen…"

I wave him off absently, eyes still fixed on the impossible sight before me. "'Tis alright, Ser Darry, B- Ser Bonifer is an old friend. Could you give us some privacy while we speak?"

He gives me a troubled look, eyes flicking between the two of us, and I shoot him my most pleading gaze. "Please, Ser Jonothor… it has been ever so long since we have seen one another. The lady knight there seems quite keen to speak to you, would you not oblige her? I would not even have to leave your sight."

I can feel his resistance breaking down at my charms, and he reluctantly nods. "…Very well, Princess."

"But you"—he turns to Bonifer—"at the slightest hint of trouble, you are gone, do you understand?"

My knight, ever the gentle one, merely nods, a smile on his face. As if the mere thought of being in my presence was enough, even if it would only be for an instant.

I feel my mood brighten as I turn to my purple knight, Ser Jonothor walking a short distance away to speak with the enthusiastic lady warrior.

Once he's out of earshot, I turn to Bonifer, and abruptly find myself bereft of things to say.

What should one say, when reuniting with the object of their childhood infatuation, a man who they thought they would never again see?

"I… what are you doing here?"

My mouth practically snaps shut as I stammer that out, my face flushing in embarrassment at my lack of grace. Gods, where is the woman who can look Aerys in the eye and feel nothing?

My knight smiles though, as if I had not even humiliated myself. His grin is just as handsome as the day I met him, still tinged with the disbelief I can feel coloring my own.

"I… I am here attending with my niece and nephews, Princess."

I look over to the Blackmoth girl, raising an eyebrow. "I… I wasn't aware your sister had more children."

What? It's not odd at all that I'd keep an ear open for news from him! Just keeping an eye on an old friend…

He smiles again, and I find that one is mirrored on my own face. What on earth is happening to me? "Ah… no, Princess. Her father Brandyn was the natural son of my sister's husband, and raised alongside his trueborn siblings. Though we share no blood, I think of the lad as my own nephew."

I feel my heart thump, and I feel something soften within me. It seems in my time away from him, I've forgotten just how noble my knight can be. Gods, how could… I can't even imagine taking in the mother of one of Aerys's bastards, let alone acknowledging her kin as my blood!

And for him to do that on even the most spurious relations… he truly is the same loving, caring knight I met so long ago.

"That… that is quite noble, Ser."

He smiles shyly, and I feel a flutter in my stomach. "Nonsense, Princess. I did what any man would do. The sins of the father are not the sins of the son, after all."

I chuckle. "I think you'll find the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms most abnormal, in that case. Or else, you are much more than a normal man, my knight."

I bite my lip as the term of endearment slips out, and Bonifer reddens.

"I… I am no more chivalrous than any other man, Princess. Truly, you flatter me."

I give him a gentle smile. "It is all earned, I assure you."

He smiles then, a hesitant thing, and I feel a sense of earnest admiration shining out from his eyes,

Gods, those blue eyes of his are beautiful. "Bonnie blue eyes", he said his mother used to call them, if I remember rightly you know you do you've thought about them ever since he left. It's where she got his name from.

And truly, they are stunning. I once asked him if he had any Durrandon blood in him, with how brightly they shine, and he-

My train of thought is interrupted by a loud laugh from Ser Jonothor, and I step back, embarrassed. Gods, what am I doing! Just… just staring into his eyes like that, mooning over him like a maid of six and ten again!

I cough in embarrassment, looking at my feet to avoid his lovely, incredible gaze.

"H-How have you fared since we parted, m- Ser Bonifer?"

He gives me a dazzling smile, somehow managing to be both roguish and humble simultaneously.

"Well, Princess, quite well."

Gods his eyes are lovely. A true, lovely blue, like a sky on a cloudless day, like-

"…Oh! Oh, yes, that is excellent to hear."

He nods. "Indeed. I have won great acclaim at many tourneys, and my nieces and nephews are the light of my life, here in my old age."

I have to hold back a giggle. "Please, Ser Knight. Forty is not so ancient, merely distinguished. Or are you calling your queen infirm, at only two years younger than yourself?"

He smiles at that, and I feel a strange fluttering in my chest. "Perish the thought. You are just as lovely as the day I first saw you, all those years ago."

I feel my cheeks heat. "Ah… yes, well- thank you, Ser Bonifer. Truly."

He seems to realize what he said and startles, the tips of his ears turning red. "That is- I mean- Not to say that-"

I cut him off with a giggle, having to hold myself back from giving him a playful slap on the arm. "No! It is a great compliment, to have the esteem of a knight such as you."

He arches a brow at that, in a way he once told me he learned from his goodfather.

"I mean…" I say with an uncharacteristic stutter, "o-only that you are so handso- so distinguished, a-and well-known…"

He can't keep the joyous smile off his face at my praise, and I feel a ridiculous grin break out on my own. Father above, what is this man doing to me?

After a minute or so of staring at one another with foolish grins, until a particularity loud exclamation from Ser Jonothor's conversation with the Lady Ash both makes us startle out of our reverie.

"Ahem… Well…" He coughs nervously, smoothing his hair back, and I have to resist the urge to brush those beautiful blonde locks for him. "I have been well, yes. I could not be prouder of any of my nieces or nephews, blood or not."

He shoots a look of such fondness at the Moth Knight then that I nearly feel my heart melt.

"Yes…" I say, after realizing I've been staring at his face just a moment too long, "she is quite impressive. You helped train her?"

He shrugs, giving me a rueful grin. "That's what she says, I suppose. In truth, the girl practically learned it all herself, prodigy that she is. I have no doubt she could have been raised by wild wolves and emerge from the forest no lesser a fighter."

I smile at that, before a thought hits me. "And your nieces and nephews… they are the only children in your life? You have none of your own, is what I mean to say."

He shoots me an embarrassed grin. "No, none for me. My heart has al-… well, I've just never found the right woman, I suppose. I've never had to, truthfully, being a second son."

I feel something inside me unclench at that, some tension I did not know I was carrying.

"That's… that's good."

He raises an eyebrow, and I blanch. "I mean- it's not good! I'm just, I mean-"

He chuckles at that, and after a moment I join him, heedless of my own mortification.

This man…

We trail off into a companionable silence, until he coughs and looks breaks eye contact, for whatever reason.

"Ah, so… how have you fared since our parting, Princess?"

I'm unable to hide the slight grimace that crosses my face, and I inwardly smile at the purple knight's dark look when he sees it.

"I… I have been well, Ser Bonifer."

I trail off then, to the purple knight's obvious consternation. "Aerys is… he is my Lord Husband."

"He… he is, yes, I suppose."

I take in his obvious discomfort, a thousand platitudes come to the tip of my tongue to defend Aerys. But when the handsome knight looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes, I find them all slipping away.

"I… I am well. The thought of y-… the thought of better days sustains me amidst my brother's… eccentricities."

Bonifer grimaces, and I can't help but feel a small thrill shoot through me at his look of concern.

No, calm yourself Rhaella! Ser Bonifer is merely a pious man, and is so made uncomfortable by the reminder that your husband is also your brother. Nothing more.

Grimacing, I try to change the subject. "You fought well. I saw you lasted until the forth round of the brackets."

"Truthfully" I say, "I think you would have stayed longer if you'd faced anyone but Ser Barristan."

He laughs at that, a rich, melodic sound that sets my heart a-flutter. "Perhaps, Princess, perhaps. The Bold Knight was a challenging opponent indeed, and I am lucky to even have lasted as long as I did."

"You are modest, Ser." I say. "Lasting a whole minute? Thrust up against such a fearsome wall of steel, I cannot see even the mightiest man lasting longer with his sword in hand."

He coughs, and I suddenly turn scarlet as the implications of my last statement wash over me.

"T-That is… t- I mea- You don-"

He holds up a hand, chuckling. "I… I believe I understood your meaning, Princess."

Despite my mortification, I find myself relaxing at his easy smile. Damn him, the charming bastard. He won't even let me stay mad at myself.

"Regardless", I say, "I have scarce seen a knight as skilled a-"

"My Queen."

The deep voice of Ser Jonothor echoes out, and I spring back as I realise how close I've gotten to my knight.

The white knight nods, a small smile still on his face as a remnant of his conversation with Lady Blackmoth.

"S-Ser Jonothor!" I say, cursing my own stammer, "Have you met Ser Bonifer Hasty? He is an old friend from my youth!"

The Kingsguard nods at the purple-clad knight, "Well met, Ser Hasty. My Queen, we must go, the King desires you to be cloistered by the hour of the eel."

It takes all I can do to hold back my scowl at my brother's sheer gall ordering me around like some common servant, but the quiet tones of my old friend bring me back to reality.

"Well met, Ser Darry. I suppose I must take my leave then, Pr-… My Queen."

I grimace. I'm long used to the title, but it feels… wrong coming from him.

"…Ser Hasty, I bid you farewell."

I turn then, despite every fiber of my being urging me to stay with the blue-eyed protector of my youth, and follow my jailer Kingsguard back to the keep.

I chance a look back, to see him staring at me as I walk away, even as he upbraids his niece for her blatant ogling of Prince Oberyn Martell, and feel my heart thump.

Once again, I'm struck by the vivid blue of his eyes. They're like searchlights, painting the whole world in his gaze with riotous color. Lighting it up, where before it had been so pale and washed out.

Silently, I vow to see him at least once more before we leave. This may be my only chance to reconnect with my… my… with my Bonifer, and I will not have it stolen by my brother's madness, like I have had everything else.

AN: Fun fact, the French equivalent to "old flame" comes from the word "bonnet", but I just couldn't figured out a good way to make that into a pun for the title. Too many "bonn"s. I'm already pushing it with the Bonifer/Bonnie pun (e.g. as in Bonnie Prince Charlie). I mean c'mon, how can I resist "Bonifer the Bonnie Ser"?

But yes, Bonnie Ser Bonny will be a fairly prominent figure in this fic, and I'm just going to let you all speculate as to how ;)

Also, sorry to all you Jenny fans out there, but Rhaella isn't a fan of best girl. No character is perfect, and I'm annoyed by writers who treat Rhaella like the perfect angel that can do no wrong: i inevitably gives you a flat character that reads more like a body pillow than a human being. She holds Jenny up (not without reason) as the single inciting incident of all the problems in her life, and has such developed a deep distaste for commoners marrying into the nobility, associating it with her. That's why some parts of her monologue can come off a bit snobbish.

I didn't intend for half the chapter to end up written partially in poetic meter, it just kinda happened that way. Since in this story, poetic meter is indicative of people drawing heavily on the force (see how Euron and Ash's banter in Durran III gets progressively more rhyme-y and rhythmic), I decided to ret-con Rhaella as a fairly powerful Force Senstivie to make it make sense in context.

And given how her life is… well, Rhaella would make a pretty excellent Sith.

Also yes, Rhaella had a mega crush on Joanna, and so was insanely jealous of both Aerys and Tywin, but didn't have a way to contextualize it beyond "these stupid boys are stealing away my bestest gal pal handmaiden!"