Aegor
"Uncle," Calla had called him that day, "I have something… I want to show you…"
She was so small, so weak, always looking downwards, her words vague murmurs that quickly lost in the wind. Calla had always been a quiet child, but the loss of her father and moving to Tyrosh had driven her into further isolation. During the escape from Westeros and the voyage, he had rarely heard her voice.
Daemon had given him his daughter. Aegor must take her out of her shell and raise her to be strong and happy, as Daemon would have wanted. Daemon… died because of his lies. The blood was not only on Brynden's hands but also on Aegor's.
Which was why he must make time for her and treat her with as much kindness as he could. "Calla." He kneeled on one knee to her height and forced out a smile, "What do you have for me?"
Her head was still lowered, her fringe covering her face. Shivering, her fingers entangled with each other, she seemed to be having trouble putting her thoughts into words. Frowning, Aegor waited for her patiently until she worked up her courage.
But instead of speaking, Calla pulled his sleeves and whispered, "Not here, uncle. Someone could be watching…"
Aegor did not know she had gotten so paranoid. This was her grandfather's estate, where only men loyal to the Archon resided. But if Calla so insisted, he would not protest. He brought her to his chambers. "Here, then."
Her violet eyes quickly searched through the room like a frightened deer. "Please… don't be too surprised."
In her empty hands grew a light.
Magic, Aegor's instinct told him, assassination. His brother had caught up to him in his disguise to take revenge for his lost eye. But Calla's eyes did not turn red, nor did her lips twist into a sneer. She just stood there, holding her light… her sword.
Half transparent and almost looking fragile, it was shining brightly. One look at its colours, grass green and sky blue, and he was already captivated by it. He felt no murderous intent in the sword, in Calla, only anticipation,
What convinced him this was no trickery was her voice, barely a whisper yet full of hope. "I got this… yesterday. I couldn't sleep last night, and suddenly… this appeared in my hands. Do you think it might be… useful?"
Carefully he brought his palm to the shining, crystal-like sword. Despite its appearance, it was warm, the strange blade giving out a human temperature heat. He drew a finger across the edge and instantly blood rushed out from his finger.
"Uncle!" Calla shrieked, the sword disappearing into thin air as she loosened her grip, her eyes glistening in fear.
"It's fine, don't worry." Bringing the wounded finger close, he observed the wound calmly. The cut was clean, almost too clean, the pain sharp but… refreshing. It was a wound that would never fester.
...Magic, and unlike any other magic Aegor had heard before. A sword that appeared only on the wielder's will. Will...
A will to attack. A will to hurt.
It was merely a hypothesis, but perhaps it did not hurt as much as it should because Calla did not mean to hurt him.
"Did you find me because you want someone to teach you how to use it?" he asked.
Calla widened her eyes, raising her head to look at him for the first time. A faint smile formed on her lips a second later and she nodded, "Yes! I was thinking, maybe I can train… with the boys… But… wouldn't it be dangerous?" her voice dropped as she frowned, the flash of a smile disappearing just as quick as it appeared.
"It depends. How did you get it? Tell me the details." Aegor had to remind himself to slow down, to not scare her with his words. He was not used to talking with children.
Calla wiggled nervously. "I don't know… I was just hoping… praying for…" she struggled to say it, but Aegor could guess it. She wanted her father and brothers back.
So did he. He wanted Daemon back more than anything.
"...I saw a light. Then Crystal was in my hands," she murmured.
"Crystal?"
"Oh! It's… the name I gave the sword." Calla's answer made Aegor chuckle. She was still a girl.
"Then it's fine." The wound the sword… Crystal made on Aegor's finger was still the same. Aegor could not say he trusted that there was no trick behind its appearance, but that was more of a reason for him to stay close to Calla, to ensure that she was not being manipulated. "I'll teach you, whenever I'm here. And if your process is good, I'll convince your grandparents and mother to allow you to train on the field with the boys, too. We will turn you into a swordswoman rivalling Visenya Targaryen."
Calla clenched her fists and nodded determinedly. "I'll do my best, uncle… This is my duty." The last few words were louder, more confident than Aegor had ever heard from her. He gave her a pat on the head and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
He had been proud of her. The model student, Calla had never disappointed him in her willingness to learn and listen. As time passed, he found her intelligent and strong-willed, pure of heart even under the bloodshed she had been through.
But maybe he should have encouraged her to do more, to think more, to live a life outside of fighting and bloodshed… instead of turning her into a weapon.
...She was just a girl. A quiet, sweet, kind girl who should grow up into a beautiful woman and a good wife. But life had led her onto a completely different road.
No… it was Aegor who had led her onto a completely different road.
—
Aegor had seen Calla's Crystal Armour shattering before, on Redgrass Field.
It was Aenys who called for him. "Uncle!" Bloodied but seemingly unscathed, he cried, "Daemon and Haegon, they're..."
Aegor had not stayed and heard his whole sentence. He could see it, see Daemon lying unceremoniously on the ground, Haegon kneeling beside him, holding his hand. Daemon's blood painted the grass red.
When Aegor reached them Daemon's eyes were dull and unfocused, but they were still moving, begging. "I saw it… we'll win this…" he murmured, "Haegon, win it… for me. You'll be… a better king…"
Then they stopped moving. Haegon gritted his teeth, "No… how could you say that? You're my brother..."
Aegor sighed and closed Daemon's eyelids. Another one he had failed, another debt he had no way of repaying. "Haegon. You are the king now. We will have the time to tend to the dead later, but you need to stand up and fight."
Haegon nodded heavily. "I know, uncle." He put his hands around Blackfyre's hilt and stood up, "I must become a good king. At least Aenys is…"
"Sadly, you won't get a chance to be king," a voice said, high and sharp. "This war shall end just like the last one." Not far away, the heart of the Targaryen army had revealed himself, his heart as dark as his clothes.
"Brynden." Aegor knew this moment would come. The time he could end their grudges and avenge Daemon. "No, it won't. Today is the day you die." Aegor was the better sword, and he took one of his eyes last time. This time, he would end him.
"I don't think so. Your little wife might have surprised me, but I'm still in control. Not even her sword could save the day for you." Brynden was as calm and unnerving as ever, his empty socket failing to teach him a lesson. "Loose."
At his command, a rain of arrows dropped, from Brynden's Raven's Teeth and himself. But Aegor was prepared for that, knowing he would pull his dirty trick again. Blocking, rolling, and dodging, he approached his half-brother. As soon as Brynden was within his sword length, he could kill him.
Haegon was faster, his movement even swifter and fluid than Aegor's. Deflecting the arrows, Aegor could see that Blackfyre was made for his hands. Haegon was always the child who resembled Daemon the most…
But he still wasn't his father. A lucky shot pierced through Haegon's fingers, and he dropped Blackfyre, wincing in pain.
"No!" Aegor shouted.
"It ends here, this second rebellion." Brynden had Dark Sister in his hands. The Valyrian sword penetrated Haegon—
"Hae…"
Aegor saw Calla before she finished the word. "...gon." It was only an instant and she was there, holding her brother's body, Crystal flashing blue.
No attacks, no words could have reached her before Crystal broke Brynden into pieces. Aegor saw her dismembering Brynden with inhuman speed, his flesh and drops of blood fixed in the air by Crystal's blue light before falling.
The fighting on the Redgrass Field stopped as all were shocked by Calla's actions. Some of the Raven's Teeth shot, but no arrows could damage her. The Targaryen army screamed and shattered, afraid to be her next target. But Calla did not seem to notice that. She was still there, slashing and hacking the remains of Brynden. Aegor could hear her cries, her unstable breathing, and the sound… of her armour breaking down, fizzing and hissing.
And he saw it, even as she moved at the speed of light, that the Crystal Armour was shattering into pieces, each of them cutting into Calla, her blood mixing with Brynden's…
She will die if she continues this, Aegor realised, and his body moved on its own accord. From behind her back, he held her tight, restraining her arms and screamed into her ears, "Calm down, Calla! This is enough. We have won! You did it already, you killed him!"
Calla struggled in his arms, and for a second he was afraid that she was gone, that bloodlust had consumed her. But then she whispered, "Aegor…" Then the magical sword and armour were willed out of existence, and she cried into his shoulders, Aegor supporting her weight and caressing her back.
He could save her, the girl that was more powerful than a dragon but so fragile at the same time. He thought once the war was over she could put down her sword, that she would not face the same problem again when she had already avenged her father.
He could not make her his wife and love her that way, not when he could hurt her. He had no desire for her either way, but her safety was more important than anything. He naively believed that she could live a life for herself after they won...
But he should have talked to her after that day.
Because she was still on missions, missions that he and Aenys had assigned to her… and they caused a tragedy he could not reverse.
—
Seeing her asleep on her bed, eyes shut closed and brows knitted together, only served to amplify his guilt, but he still came every day. Aegor had brought her body back to the Red Keep, and the wounds on her body had been treated, yet her soul… was trapped somewhere Aegor could not reach.
It had been a month since then, but she had never awakened. She twisted and winced sometimes, but most of the time she was just there, frowning slightly. They tried their best to feed her but she still withered, day by day, her cheeks losing their fullness and her hair and skin losing its radiance.
Following the massacre of Flea Bottom, there had been riots all over the city. On Aenys' insistence, the Crystal Guards hadn't disbanded, but they had little differences from the Gold Cloaks now, going over King's Landing to put out the riots. Not even the Blackfyre's takeover of the city had sprouted so much mayhem. Although being quickly stifled, there were calls for Calla's head…
On this matter, Aenys had been stubbornly refusing to make amends on behalf of Calla. "This is my sister they're condemning here. Those mobs attacked her first! She is royalty, and they deserve to die. I was trying to help them yet they spit on my offer! I want no words of compensation, no more," he would say, each time more desperate and angry when the question was brought up, and no one could convince him otherwise.
But the plan was flawed. They did not account for the actual population of Flea Bottom, where a large portion of people lived within the shadows without paying taxes to the crown… so they never made it into the records. And Aegor himself had advised they cut down on the number of shelters to start the resettlement quickly.
This was not the only mistake he made. He should not have left the Gold Cloaks to enforce his orders, should not have allowed them to wreck homes in his name. He was busy, but it was no excuse. It was his duty.
Yet there was nothing he regretted more than failing to save Calla.
"Calla…" he sighed, holding her hand. Her palm was cold. "I'm so sorry. I have failed you again."
She was his charge, the girl Daemon gave to him, the girl he had sworn to protect thrice over. Yet he could not love her as Daemon wished for, could not have given her the life she deserved… and now he let her bathe in the blood of innocents and lost her mind over it.
"Why did you make me do this?"
She was right. He was the one who pushed her to the edge, by negligence and arrogance. There were so many things he could do to prevent this, yet he had missed it all.
"Calla, when you are awake, I will persuade Aenys to allow you to resign. You won't have to fight anymore. If the city wants you dead, then you don't have to stay here. I will take all responsibility for the massacre. You can… live your life as you are supposed to." Aegor unconsciously tightened his grip on her fingers. He wanted her back. He owed her too much. He could not bear watching her withering away just like his mother did.
Just like Shiera did...
He reached out to ruffle her hair, so dry, unlike before. Aegor imagined she would have smiled, maybe even blushing as she sometimes did. She should be out there, smiling, not trapped in bed, in her nightmares.
"Calla. Wake up. I beg of you," he tried again, "Whatever problem Crystal brings you, we'll face it together. I won't let you get hurt again. So… don't go," brushing her hair aside, he whispered in her ears, "Please don't leave me."
And when he raised his head, he saw her eyes, barely opened, were full of tears.
