The afternoon had been cooler than usual on the warm side of the continent as the party of Targaryen bannermen, knights and men-at-arms began arriving in columns at the entrance of the castle's gates. Summerhall, a Targaryen summer home until Daeron II commanded his fourth son whom he gave the title Prince of Summerhall for the purpose of keeping the Marcher and Dornish lords at bay or from keeping the young prince from starting a civil war like the Dance of Dragons or the Blackfyre rebellion as what many in the kingdom had whispered during those first few years. Being a lightly fortified castle Maekar requested his father to give him a garrison of knights in order to fortify the summer home for his young family.
Daeron, the eldest of his brood spent more time in King's Landing than the rest of his siblings as he had accompanied his father to visits throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Unfortunately, the heir to Summerhall had been underwhelming for someone of which greatness was expected but the Prince of Summerhall was unyielding to the truths that had befallen his son and so his attempt to 'fix' Daeron has yet to produce results. The second son Aerion who styled himself Aerion Brightflame had all the superficial qualities of a prince, beautiful but monstrous with a heart of poison and the intelligence of a rock and so Maekar did not attempt to fix his second son for Aerion was all gallant and chivalrous whenever his father was around. A blessing came in the form of a girl they named Jacaera, born in between both brothers but lacks their dysfunction and yet despite being seen as an improvement in contrast to her brothers the princess was later found out to be afflicted with the same condition as her granduncle; Bryden Rivers known throughout the realm as Lord Bloodraven. The smallfolk whispered of Lord Rivers' sorcery, that he could turn into mist in the blink of an eye, that it was he who ruled the Seven Kingdoms behind the curtain and so the child's birth was seen as an omen by the lowborn and highborn alike, a curse upon House Targaryen for mingling their Valyrian blood with that of the mysterious Daynes of Dorne who were mostly known for their ancestral sword Dawn and the Dayne who carries it; the Sword of the Morning.
Years passed, and whispers of the pale child born to a dragon and the heart of a fallen star had all but become a myth for no one has ever glimpsed the child which the smallfolk later believed was a rumor started by the Blackfyres to bring chaos to the kingdom and only when the princes Baelor and Maekar won the battle at Redgrass Field did the rumors start dying out. It had been a peaceful existence until their mother died of a growth in the head, the family would never be the same again but left without a choice life moved on as it usually did no matter how chaotic the road it led them to.
She could only make out two figures approaching the castle, one had light brown hair and the other platinum blonde. The latter caught up with the former not wanting to be seen as a footman. Jacaera smiled knowing the extent of Aerion's pettiness but the smile quickly faded remembering the extent of Aerion's madness. It had been Aegon's cat she remembered the most out of these terrible acts, when Aegon pleaded with her to check on his cat it had been her who found Mr. Pebbles down the well. Of course she felt like committing the act of kinslaying for a brief moment, and when Aegon had taken the matter to father without consulting her he was dismissed as a liar. Jacaera attempted to clear Aegon's name by telling their father of the madness within their brother but Maekar dismissed her too. Perhaps you'll finally do something about Aerion this time Father, she thought. Sadly, you had to wait for something like this to happen.
"Your Grace," Landry's voice came, snapping her back into reality, "Prince Daeron and Prince Aerion are waiting for you in your father's solar."
When she arrived at the solar, Aerion had claimed their father's seat behind the desk with his feet up his hands neatly folded while Daeron poured himself some wine from the decanter as he looked through the window. Her brothers weren't just different in their nature or nurture but physically Daeron had their mother's Dornish features mostly in his sandy brown hair and Aerion had Targaryen features, platinum blonde hair, violet eyes and an athletic build. She'd been confused as to how she came out the way she did more so being the only child with the condition among the seven of them.
"Sister." Her brothers greeted in unison.
"Brothers." She took the chair facing their father's table and placed it between her brothers. "Care to explain what truly happened?"
Daeron turned to face her for the first time as takes a sip of wine from his goblet earning him a smug smile from Aerion.
"Certainly not a day I'd want to relive," Daeron replied, "I can't say the same for this one." he added nonchalantly, meaning Aerion.
"I suppose I won't be getting the full truth out of both of you."
"Then why inquire in the first place?!" Aerion asked, obviously feeling harried. "This is not a time for such questions!"
Daeron shrugged and shook his head in disagreement.
"I suppose you'd rather let the truth slip by and be forgotten?" Jacaera inquired back, two can play this game brother.
"Spare me sister," Aerion spewed, "that puppet girl blasphemed our house, I wasn't going to let her free without teaching her a lesson."
For one brief moment she could imagine herself in Aerion's head, knowing all its secrets and the way it processed and perceived reality. She knew that Aerion had dreams too, dragon dreams that kept repeating themselves.
"The puppet girl was only trying to make a living, Aerion." She said, softly. "Besides, I'm not even sure if what you were thinking were even the puppet girl's intentions."
Aerion only glowered at her as if asking if she was accusing him of insanity, but when Jacaera flicked her blood red eyes at him he shrank under the weight of his seat. There had always been something that he had feared about his older sister despite how close they were in age, she had known of his dreams since he was a boy of six and he remembers vaguely the night of his repetitive dream, waking in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and paralyzed with fear, the first thing he sees is the face of his pale sister with her eyes the color of rubies standing over his bed with her hand in his. Little Aerion immediately let go of her hand, leaped off his bed and ran to their parents' chambers crying and telling them what had just happened but from that day on Aerion made sure that he was never left alone in a room with his older sister ever again.
"I think we've all had enough of talking for even half a day," Daeron cuts the silence and the siblings sighed in unison, "I suppose we ought to toast to something." Pouring wine on two goblets and handed them to Jacaera and Aerion.
"Or someone." Jacaera muttered under her breath.
"Very well, let's toast to whatever or whoever each of us want to." Daeron suggested, who despite his faults had been the peacemaker of the family. Sometimes I wonder if you do this to keep the peace between us as siblings or if it is to save your own shame, brother.
"I'll go first," Aerion announced. Of course you do. Jacaera thought, blinking at her silver brother after she rose from her chair and they held up their goblets. "I toast to myself, for defending the honor of our house when no one else would."
Daeron and Jacaera did not lift their eyebrows for this was exactly what they expected, but only gave each other a glance as their younger brother drank his wine and they followed.
"To our Uncle Baelor," Jacaera toasted, "who would have been the finest king the Seven Kingdoms ever had." She need not say no more for what she spoke was truth.
"To Uncle Baelor!" The three of them exclaimed in unison with Aerion slightly behind and murmuring their uncle's name and Daeron looking solemn as he gulped his wine.
And the siblings drank from their goblets. Jacaera and Aerion's attention turned to Daeron who looked like he was about to collapse from where he stood.
"And lastly, to our little brother Aegon," Daeron said breathily, struggling to lift up his goblet, "who seems to be the only Targaryen who benefitted from all this."
"To Aegon!" Daeron and Jacaera exclaimed.
"To Aegon." Aerion toasted with gritted teeth, finishing the last few drops of his wine.
Their toasts were followed with silence, they each knew that all that matters is what is said once their father returned from King's Landing. Jacaera turned to Daeron who stood closer to her, sensing some bitterness around him but mostly the weight of the burden he had been carrying since they were children, something she was all too familiar with. Aerion always recovers quickly, but she knew it was only pretend for when their lordly father returns to them it is his wrath and judgement he will have to face and not his siblings'. Jacaera looked down on her empty cup, wondering if the Seven really did curse the family the day she was been born but all she could do was comfort herself that none of her siblings would ever ascend the Iron Throne.