Chapter 16

Author's Note: Apologies for the delay! I've been suffering some writer's block. FYI, if you want updates on my progress for this story and/or other fics, please refer to my profile. I'll be posting updates there.

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, nor any of George RR Martin's works

Rated M for strong language, violence, adult content, adult situations, incest, age-gap relationships, and some sexual content

Enjoy

Sunspear, Dorne, 134 AC...

Coryanne walked through the depths of the caverns deep beneath the palace. She carried a torch to illuminate the steep path. She heard a shuffle behind her and whirled around. "Quiet."

Sybella gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry. It's so slippery."

"Take off your shoes like I told you."

The Lyseni obeyed, pulling her sandals off. She made a face as her bare feet touched the cool, damp rocks. Coryanne suppressed the urge to laugh. "You get used to the feeling. Come on."

The Dornish princess continued to descend. Sybella gripped her sandals tight and followed. Sure enough, her bare feet had an easier time with the slick stones. The air grew colder the farther they went. Strange sounds reverberated through the walls. Coryanne stopped and placed the torch into a sconce. She grabbed Sybella's hand and held a finger to her lips. The Lyseni nodded. Coryanne led her into a large chamber. There were long tables and shelves covered in various plants and half-dissected fruits and insects. One caught Sybella's eye. An iridescent dragonfly nearly as large as her hand. She had never seen one so big. But Coryanne pulled her along.

They entered a short hallway that opened up to a grand cavern. Sybella's eyes went wide at the sight. Green and blue rocks as far as the eye could see. Stalagmites and stalactites lined a river of clear, still water. Torches were placed around a clearing near the river bank. Martell guards surrounded a group of common women. Coryanne pushed Sybella behind a large stalagmite before she could get a better look at the scene. One guard glanced over his shoulder, seeing Coryanne. She smiled at him, simply nodding her head. The guard bowed and turned back to the river.

Sybella peeked around the stalagmite. The common women were in two groups. Some knelt around a fire, speaking softly to each other as they crushed herbs. The other group stood in the river, guiding a shirtless man into knee-deep water. The man turned around and Sybella's eyes went wide. Prince Qoren!

Coryanne discreetly scooted closer to Sybella. "Remember," she whispered, "do not tell anyone about this. Outsiders aren't allowed here. Not even my mother."

That surprised Sybella. "Why not?"

The princess shrugged. "This is an old Rhoynish ritual. It's illegal, but...we still honor the old ways. Anyone who isn't Dornish wouldn't understand."

Prince Qoren knelt down in the water. The women spoke the language of their ancestors. They scooped up water and poured handfuls onto Qoren. The ones by the fire got up and walked over to join the others, two of them held bowls. The eldest of the women dipped a finger in each bowl and drew designs on Qoren's chest with pale green paint. Sybella glanced at Coryanne questioningly. "Symbols of good health," the princess explained. "The elder is blessing him and his heart with Mother Rhoyne's favor."

"His heart? Then this is a healing ritual?"

Coryanne nodded. "Maester Garin has done what he could. But my father wants to be sure that the...that the episode won't happen again."

Sybella grabbed her cousin's hand. Coryanne appreciated the comfort. Neither of them could forget the day Prince Qoren collapsed, clutching his chest in pain. It was thanks to Maester Garin's quick action that saved the Prince, administering medicine that eased the pain and allowed him to recover. Sybella found it confusing how such a healthy man could be threatened by his own heart. She glanced at Prince Qoren. The designs on his chest continued down his arms. The elder whispered something into his ear and he nodded. As she and the women backed away, Coryanne squeezed Sybella's hand. "No matter what you see or hear...stay quiet. The ritual can't be interrupted or it won't work."

She nodded. "I won't. I promise."

The women passed the bowls around. Drawing different symbols on their necks. The elder took the bowls away and put them back by the fire. She asked the Prince something, gesturing to the river and the prince gave her a short response. "The elder is asking if my father will accept this river in place of Mother Rhoyne herself," Coryanne told Sybella, releasing her hand. "To bless and heal him, and he has accepted."

Sybella pressed herself against the stalagmite as she peered around it, eager to see. The elder joined the other women as they began to walk in a circle around Qoren. She started to hum. A soft melody as fluid as the river. The other women harmonized with the elder, carrying the tune. Sybella found their song soothing. Entrancing. Qoren closed his eyes, sitting peacefully as the women continued to circle. They stopped suddenly and changed direction, causing the water to swirl around the prince. Their hums grew louder, escalating into lyrical chanting. A mysterious wind swept through the cavern, blowing out the torches save for one. The light flickered as it clung to life. The paint on Qoren and the women glowed in the semi-darkness. Sybella glanced up, seeing more glowing dots all over the ceiling of the cavern.

The chanting grew louder and the last torch blew out. The song filled the cavern. Sybella felt it flow through her body as if she was floating in the ocean. The rock beneath her fingers vibrated from the power of their voices. The women continued to circle. The water swirled around Qoren, surging up around his shoulders. As Sybella watched, her smile fell. The darkness infected her vision. The river became a raging sea. The cavern became a powerful storm. Two dragons made of smoke danced. Each dragon changed colors. Green and black. Silver and bronze. Gold and red. Blue and gray. The flashing colors were too much and Sybella closed her eyes, willing the image to disappear.

She opened her eyes. The cavern was pitch black. The glowing lights were gone. Qoren and the Rhoynar women were gone. Sybella reached out for Coryanne but felt nothing but air. Then a flash of lightning and a dark green dragon surged towards her, opening its mouth wide. Sybella gasped and pushed off the stalagmite. Coryanne checked to make sure the guards hadn't noticed before grabbing the Lyseni's arm. "Syb? What's wrong?"

Sybella shook her head. She could still smell the dragon's breath. "I saw...I can't be here. Get me out. Please."

"Alright, alright." Coryanne hushed her. She checked once more that the Martell guards were focused on Qoren. She grabbed Sybella's hand and tip-toed back to the hall. The chanting followed them into the chamber. It spurned the visions to replay in Sybella's mind. She yanked on Coryanne's hand. "We have to find your mother."

"What? Why?"

Sybella glanced around the room. The tables shifted into mountains of red stone. The shelves became ghosts looming over a valley. "We have to warn her."

"Warn her about what?" Coryanne stressed. "Syb, what's going on? What do you see?"

She turned in a circle, looking up at the ceiling. She then turned to Coryanne. "Storms are coming for the west."

King's Landing...

Daella smiled to herself as Silverwing coiled in her nest. The she-dragon groaned and stretched her wings, basking in the winter sun. Daella did the same, leaning her head back to let the sunlight warm her face. Sweat began to build on her back and she shed the thick winter cloak she wore, draping it over her arm. She had half a mind to throw it into the sea, but it was a gift bestowed by Lady Hornwood. Daella whistled at Silverwing, the same tune Caraxes was fond of using, and the silver dragon hissed in annoyance. She laughed as she finished the hike to the top of the cliffs. As she expected, an escort was waiting for her. Hightower guards with a lone Kingsguard in front of them. Daella's smile widened. "Ser Erryk!"

Erryk bowed his head as she approached. "Welcome back, Princess."

She dropped everything she was carrying, startling the guards, and hugged the white knight. Erryk welcomed the embrace. When Daella released him, he stepped back to survey her. Her armor, her sword, the fierce braids in her hair - even her demeanor impressed him. "You the cut the image of Queen Visenya herself."

Daella chuckled and picked up her things. "You flatter me, Ser."

The guards parted down the middle to allow the princess and the knight to walk by them. "How was the North?" Erryk asked. "Did the lords treat you well?"

"They did. And as much as I respect the North and its people, I never want to see them again," she said. "I despise the cold. I have not felt my own sweat in three years."

Erryk shook his head, laughing. Daella glanced over her shoulder at the Hightower guards. She stopped before they reached the steps that lead to the castle. "Ser Erryk, I am happy to see you...truly. But you are my brother's sworn protector. Ser Arryk is mine. Why is he not here to greet me?"

"Ser Harrold reassigned him while you've been away, Princess," he said. "My brother now protects Lady Cassandra and her children."

Her face lit up. "Oh, the twins. How are they?"

"Strong and healthy, Princess. They take after their mother."

Daella made a face as she started to climb the steps. "Gods, and here I was excited about finally having a niece. The last thing the world needs is another Cassandra."

"Forgive me, I was referring to their appearance," he confessed. Daella furrowed her brows, stopping once again. "Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera have Baratheon features."

"Did dragon eggs hatch in their cradles?" Erryk nodded. "Then I don't see the problem."

The Kingsguard chose to say nothing further on the matter. Daella craned her neck as she studied the Red Keep, noting that some decorative banners were missing. "Has the King been informed of my arrival?"

Erryk frowned, grunting uneasily. "I do not know, Princess. He has been...ill of late and hardly leaves his chambers. Ser Otto has gathered the court in the throne room to receive you."

"I shall like to see my father first. Tell the Hand of the King that I will present myself after." She gestured to the Hightower guards. "Take them with you. I don't need an escort."

"Princess, I don't think-"

"Oh, and give him this." She readjusted her cloak and held out a large axe. It was fiercely curved steel attached to a bone-white handle that was broken. Ser Erryk was surprised Daella was holding the massive weapon with one hand. "It's a Thenn Magnar's axe. I took it from him myself."

"The Queen will not be so appreciative of your gift...or your insolence, Princess," he said. He took the axe and smiled at her. "I have missed you."

Dragonstone...

Rhaenyra sat near the fireplace, enjoying the warmth. She was huddled under a thick fur blanket, wearing nothing underneath. In the bed, Daemon snored blissfully. Rhaenyra had missed him dearly. He had told her the previous night, as he was pressing her into the mattress, that he wanted another child. She slid a hand to her stomach. After five pregnancies, her body was not as slim as it once was, and yet her husband made her feel desirable. She smiled to herself, happy with her good fortune. The keen of a young dragon drew her attention to the balcony. In the distance, she could see Vermax soaring over the Mount. The pale green dragon was too far for her to see clearly, but she thought she saw two riders on Vermax. Jace must be giving Aliandra another ride.

A hand slipped under her chin and forced her to look up. Rhaenyra gasped and then smiled up at Daemon. He gave her that boyish smirk that he knew she liked and leaned down to kiss her. "Good morrow."

Rhaenyra chuckled. "Good afternoon, my love."

He hummed in surprise and sat down in the other chair in front of the fireplace. His robe was tied loosely around him. "I haven't slept this much in a long time."

"You must've needed it," she said. "Daella already left. No doubt she's presenting herself before the King as we speak."

"Better her than me. The last time I presented myself to the king, I was banished."

Rhaenyra snorted, shaking her head slightly. "You were banished because of your attempt to corrupt me. Though...I think a lot of heartbreak could've been avoided had my father accepted your proposal."

Daemon grunted as he grabbed the fire poker and stoked the fire. "No point in dwelling in what could've been. We're together now. Seven children between us. Hopefully eight."

"Are you certain you want another?" she asked shyly. "You don't think I'm too old?"

"Nonsense. We could have several more before your childbearing days are done."

She laughed. The irony was not lost on her. She watched for years as her mother struggled to birth a living child. Endless tears and grief until the last child killed her. Yet here Rhaenyra was...five children, each delivery easier than the last. She prayed to the gods of her ancestors that she would continue to be blessed. Daella as well. The thought of her sister brought up the memory of her departure. "I worry...about Daella...and this plan of ours."

"You don't think she can do it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not that. Oddly, I felt more sure about our 'schemes' when Daella seemed less inclined," she confessed. "But now that she has no reservations, no qualms...I can't help but feel as if we are asking too much of her."

Daemon hummed and put the fire poker away. "I'd say your concerns were well founded if it weren't for the fact that your sister is actually in love with the little shit."

Rhaenyra blinked in surprise. She poured over her conversation with Daella, recalling the confident smile on her face. "Is she?"

"It's all she would talk about while up in the North," he complained, slouching in the chair. "She'd write him letters and cry over his lack of response...at least she had the wildlings to take her anger out on."

"So our plan...it might actually work?"

Daemon met her gaze. Seeing the sparkle of hope in her eyes made him smile. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Daella will not fail. And Vhagar will be at our side once again."

King's Landing...

Daella entered her room through the secret entrance. She gently closed the door and leaned against it, sighing to herself. She regretted ever leaving. The sight of her father nearly caused her to break down in tears. Even now, her eyes burned. She remained strong for him. When his unbandaged eye fell upon her, he seemed to find a sliver of life. Withstanding his pain in order to embrace her and welcome her home. What else could she do but return his happiness? Act as if nothing was wrong. Movement across the room caught her eye. Malia curtsied, smiling warmly. "Princess. It is so good to see you."

She blinked away her tears. "I've missed you, Malia. I'm sorry I was gone so long."

"There's nothing to forgive, Princess. You were doing your duty in the North." Malia gestured to the entirety of the room. "I've kept your chambers in order as you requested. Not even a rat has been in here."

Daella laughed. She was relieved to see her room hadn't changed. Aside from the state of her father, Daella was shocked to find her home grimmer than the North. The walls were stripped of the historical, sexual murals and decorative foreign tapestries. Artistic Targaryen heraldry had been replaced with gaudy seven-pointed stars. The castle felt haunted, abandoned...the halls devoid of gossip and merriment. What has become of King's Landing?

Malia followed the princess to the dressing area and began working on removing her armor. "The White Wyrm welcomes you home as well," the handmaid said. "There is much she wishes to update you on."

"Good. I have no intention of leaving anytime soon," Daella confessed, sighing as she lifted her chestplate off. "And be prepared, the whole castle is in an uproar looking for me."

"You should've seen the Queen's face when Ser Erryk told her you had gone to see the King." Malia giggled as she removed Daella's sword belt. She then frowned, sniffing Daella's clothes. "Did you bathe recently, Princess?"

"I did. At Dragonstone." The princess tossed her wrist guards and gloves onto the ottoman beside the mirror and then began to unbutton her coat. A harsh knock on the door startled them both. Malia looked at the princess nervously. Daella sighed. "Send them away."

Malia hurried to the door. She meant to only poke her head out, but the door swung open, causing her to gasp, and the visitor stormed inside. Malia quickly shut the door and ran around to block his path. "My prince, this is highly inappropriate. Princess Daella's chambers are off limits-"

"Where is she?"

Daella froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Though, it was much deeper than the last time she heard it. She peeked through the short wall that divided the bedroom from the sitting area, catching glimpses of long silver hair and black leather. Daella considered rebuttoning her coat to make herself presentable but decided against it. "The princess does not wish to be disturbed," Malia continued, her voice shaking slightly. "She...she will present herself to the court shortly, my prince."

"I will not ask again."

Daella stepped into view, leaning against the short wall. "It's alright, Malia. Leave us."

The handmaid reluctantly obeyed, bowing to them both before leaving the room. Daella's gaze shifted from the door to Aemond. He stood by the sofa, radiating such an intimidating presence that she wanted to both praise and taunt him. She folded her arms under her chest, her eyes scanning every inch of him. All trace of boyhood was gone, leaving him lean and sharp-edged. A man, a warrior dressed in Targaryen black. Daella smiled coyly, suppressing her impure thoughts. "You're taller."

He held up the Thenn axe. "And you're still impudent."

Daella hadn't even realized he was carrying it. She walked over to the table that held an arrangement of snacks. "I'm tired is what I am. It was a long flight from Winterfell to King's Landing."

"Tired or not," he set the axe down on the sofa, "you will present yourself in the throne room and kneel before the King's representatives."

She hummed, swallowing the bit of food in her mouth. "You know, I find that my knees don't quite bend as easily as they used to. Consequences of fighting in a war, I suppose. Besides, I already had an audience with the King."

"This is not a request. The Queen commands you." He walked over to her, his chin raising slightly. "If I must drag you before her in full view of the court, I will do it."

Daella was tempted to dare him to try. Very tempted. Instead, she stepped back, finding his show of indifference rather annoying. "You haven't changed a bit. Still overdramatic. It's disappointing."

He tilted his head. "What I find disappointing...is your expectation that I will heel like a dog at your feet, eager to welcome you back as if you did not abandon me. Did you grow weary of the attentions of the northern lords?" He took a step closer. "Or did you succumb to our uncle's charms the same as our sister...returning home in shame rather than in victory?"

Her smirk fell. "Say another word, brother...and I will break your nose."

She expected him to snap, to recoil at her calling him "brother", but he didn't. Daella blinked in surprise, excited by his strange obedience but confused by the betrayal on his face. She moved closer to him, closer than she's been to him in three years. "Have you forsaken me? Does your heart and body belong to another? You are betrothed to me."

"Our wedding was meant to happen two years ago. Yet you were content to remain in the North surrounded by savages," he said. "It is you that has forsaken me."

Daella slowly shook her head. "For the last three years...every night in my cold tent, I spent thinking of you, dreaming of you, wishing you were there beside me." Her face hardened. "For the last three years, I have written you so many letters that I've lost count. Each one the same as the last...asking, demanding, begging you to join me. To come North and fight with me, be with me. And not a single word from you."

He narrowed his eye. "I have received nothing from you. No letters, no messages...you are many things, but a good liar is not one of them."

Daella grabbed his hand and pressed it against her neck, guiding his fingers to her pulse. She held his gaze as she closed the distance between them. "For three, long, lonely years...I kept my promise to you. Reminding in every letter that my love for you has not and will not ever fade nor diminish."

Aemond searched her gaze, his coolness fading. Her pulse was steady beneath his fingers. He curled his hand around the base of her throat. He had not forgotten the softness of her skin. "Tell me you still burn for me."

She remained silent. "Tell me," he ordered. "I want to hear you say it."

Daella shrugged, batting her eyes up at him. Aemond growled in frustration and latched onto her upper arms. "You said you would make me yours," he said, pushing her away from the table. "You told me you wanted me, body and soul."

"I did," she teased, letting him walk her across the room to the bed.

"I will make you say those words once again."

Daella slipped from his grasp, dropping into a crouch. She moved so fast that Aemond fell forward. Daella grabbed onto the back of his thighs and lifted him up, turning and tossing him onto the bed. Aemond bounced, too stunned to react as the back of his knees hooked onto the footboard. Daella smiled triumphantly as she placed her hands on his thighs, pushing his legs apart. "I told you I wouldn't corrupt you until we are wed. But I'm feeling rather...sinful."

She crawled on top of him, straddling his waist and placing a hand on either side of his head. Aemond gazed up at her, astonished and aroused. Daella hovered over him, her hair falling around them and blocking the light. "The fire within me burns for you. And only you."

Daella grabbed his chin, turning his head slightly to whisper into his ear. "Do you know of the things I want to do with you? What I want to do to you?"

Aemond placed his shaky hands on her waist. "I'm selfish," she continued, "I want to touch you. I want to taste you. I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to bear your children."

His grip on her waist tightened and he began to lift his hips to meet hers. Daella slid her hand from his jaw around to the back of his head, gripping his hair firmly and rendering him frozen. "I'm also cruel. I want to learn what it is you like and use it against you. I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hurt you. I want to break you."

"Do it," he dared.

Daella searched his gaze, looking for any shred of doubt or regret. But there was none, only anticipation. She leaned down, skimming his bottom lip with her own. Aemond sighed, letting out the barest hint of a moan. Daella smiled and then kissed him. She eased her grip on his hair, melting into the building passion as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Aemond pulled on her waist. The door was suddenly thrown open and both of them went still. Malia whimpered as she ran over to the bed. She gasped at the sight of them and quickly turned around. "Forgive me, Princess...and my prince! Ser Criston is coming!"

Daella rolled off of Aemond. She came up behind Malia, grabbing her shoulders and guiding her away from the bedroom area. The handmaid hurried back to the door while Daella waited by the short wall, blocking the view of Aemond on the bed. She pulled her coat around herself and smoothed her hair just as Ser Criston stormed in. His furious gaze found Daella. "Princess! You have been summoned by the Queen. You are to come with me at once."

"Nice to see you, too, Ser Criston." She smirked at the way he fumed. "I was in the middle of changing. At least allow me to make myself presentable before I see my stepmother."

"You have wasted enough time by having the entire castle hunt you down," he said. "You are presentable enough and will come now. I am not above dragging you out of this room, kicking and screaming."

Daella folded her hands under her chest. "I'd like to see you try. You're much smaller and older than the Thenn I slew."

"As you wish, Princess."

He stalked towards her. Daella pushed off the short wall, preparing herself. But as Criston neared, Aemond walked out from behind Daella. Criston stopped in his tracks, his dark eyes going wide. Aemond stood between them, grunting in disapproval. "Leave her be, Cole. Daella will present herself as soon as she's changed."

Criston glanced at Daella, but she was unfazed by his accusatory glare. The Kingsguard nodded in defeat and stepped aside to let the prince pass. He shot Daella one last frown before following Aemond out. The princess let out a sigh of relief once Malia closed the door. She rubbed her face and then threw her coat off. "Come, Malia. Let's get this over with."

Sunspear, Dorne, the next day...

"They came in the night, my Prince." Maester Garin set the scrolls down in front of Qoren on his desk. "Lord Fowler reports that three of his patrol guards were slaughtered by knights of House Caron."

Alyssa stood behind Qoren's chair, resting her elbow along the top of the backrest. "After all these years, why would Lord Royce risk war with Dorne?"

Maester Garin shrugged helplessly. "I cannot say, Princess. This attack seems rather...impulsive. House Wyl, Fowler, and Blackmont are the closest to the border and would bring the might of their armies straight to the doors of Nightsong."

"That's just the provocation Lord Borros would need to retaliate with the full force of the Stormlands," Qoren said. He glanced up at Alyssa. "What did Sybella tell you?"

Maester Garin sighed in disappointment. Alyssa rolled her eyes. "My love, it's not wise to rely on her visions. They're unpredictable and even Sybella doesn't truly know what they mean half the time."

"She was right about the spy two years ago," he said, counting with his fingers. "She was right about the Triarchy hiring Basilisk pirates to plague our shores. She was right about my survival-"

"Qoren." Alyssa rubbed her forehead.

"Lady Sybella said that there would be storms in the east," Maester Garin answered. "She claimed to see dragons fighting in the Red Mountains."

Qoren pressed his fist to his lips as he thought. "I have no doubt of our ability to repel the Stormlanders. But...the dragons the Hightowers possess are a problem. Aliandra is on Dragonstone, so Coryanne will have to provide support."

"I am not eager to put our daughter in harm's way," Alyssa said. "She's the heir of Sunspear."

Qoren reached back and grabbed her hand, pulling her to his side. "You were the same age as Coryanne is now when you followed your father into war. Thankfully, this is a different situation, but Starfyre alone cannot withstand whatever dragon the Hightowers send."

"It would most likely be Vhagar," Master Garin interjected. "She is their most fearsome weapon."

Alyssa hummed in displeasure. "That would be Otto's first choice. Doesn't matter that her rider is a green boy with no experience...unless it is his intent to set the old dragon loose upon us." She turned to Maester Garin. "Do you know if Laenys Velaryon has given birth yet?"

"I do not, Princess."

"Why Laenys?" Qoren asked her.

"You're right that Starfyre isn't enough, but it'd be smarter to have another battle-hardened dragon with us," she said. "This is a Dornish issue. We cannot rely on Rhaenyra or my father themselves as they would be seen as traitors to the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaenys is busy ruling Driftmark, so it has to be Laenys."

"Our alliance with House Velaryon does not diminish our alliance with your cousin," Qoren said. He released her hand and turned to the Maester. "Send word to both Dragonstone and Driftmark. Rhaenyra and Rhaenys shall both honor the agreements they have made with us."

Maester Garin bowed. "As you wish, my prince."

"Write to Kingsgrave and Skyreach as well," he added. "Lord Fowler and Lord Manwoody will amass as many men as they can and march for the border in the Prince's Pass. I will arrive there shortly with Alyssa and Coryanne to meet them."

Alyssa's eyes went wide but she said nothing. Maester Garin bowed again and swiftly left the room. Once he was gone, she placed her hand on Qoren's shoulder. "You should leave this to me, my love. You're still recovering."

He brushed her hand off and stood up. "I'm fine, Alyssa. My heart is stronger than ever. Besides, I have not looked upon the Red Mountains since our progress eight years ago. Perhaps we will get lucky and conceive another son."

"This is serious, Qoren," she stressed. "If this border skirmish escalates into full-out war...? Our children are not ready. And despite our advantage of numbers, Vhagar is still a serious threat."

He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her to him. "Dorne resisted Vhagar for ten years. And your cousins are no conquerors."

"Aegon I'm not too worried about. It's Aemond. I'll never forget how viciously he beat Aliandra and my sisters. And Jace..." she shook her head.

"They are fortunate I wasn't there. The boy would've lost more than just an eye for laying hands on a Princess of Dorne." He tucked a curl behind her ear and then smoothed the frown wrinkles on her forehead. "Do not worry, my love. We will prevail over the Stormlanders."

King's Landing, three days later...

Daella followed Ser Erryk into the office of the Hand of the King. She tried to casually steady her breathing. It had been a long time since she wore stiff bodices. Even walking in a dress felt foreign to her. Ser Erryk opened the door and stepped aside. Daella gave her former sworn protector a friendly smile as she slipped by him. She walked up to the desk Ser Otto sat at. "Princess Daella," Ser Erryk announced.

Otto set his quill down and smiled. "Thank you, Ser Erryk."

Daella folded her hands together as Ser Erryk left the room. "Is there some punishment you forgot to bestow upon me, Lord Hand? Or do you wish to yell at me some more? My stepmother has certainly not grown tired of doing so."

He snorted. "No, I did not summon you to drag out your disrespectful treatment of the King's court. We ought to move forward and let bygones be bygones. No need for dark days as you prepare for your wedding to Prince Aemond."

"Then why am I here?"

His eyebrow twitched and he grabbed a scroll that was hiding behind a book. "Lord Royce Caron has called for aide. His men that patrol the border along the Prince's Pass were slaughtered by Dornish cutthroats bearing the sigil of House Fowler."

Daella blinked through the shock. "Has there been word from Sunspear about this? From Princess Alyssa?"

"Oh, yes. She's flying to the border to address the situation," he said. "To lead the army the western Dornish lords are amassing on Prince Qoren's command."

"What?"

"I know. I am just as shocked as you."

"Surely there's been some mistake?" she asked. Her eyes went to the scroll. "Why would she jeopardize the peace she's worked so hard for? If Dorne means to go to war...she'll never stand a chance against us. Starfyre is all she has."

Otto smirked. "We have a strong reason to believe Starfyre is not the only dragon that resides in Dorne. Traders from the south have brought rumors of seeing young dragons flying along the Dornish coasts."

Daella placed her hands on the desk, leaning towards him as she lowered her voice. "Even if those rumors are true and her children have dragons of their own...they'd be no bigger than Sunfyre or Vermax. Alyssa is no fool. She would not put her children at risk. There must be more to the story, Lord Hand."

"Perhaps there is," he said with a shrug. "Lord Borros seems to think this is typical Dornish behavior. He even called his banners."

She rolled her eyes. "Lord Borros is simply looking for an excuse to rage. I've met with the Marcher Lords. I've walked their lands and heard their stories...they're content with Alyssa's peace. They don't want war. Send orders to Borros to stand down."

Otto shook his head. "It's much too late for that, I'm afraid."

"So you're content to watch the Stormlands burn?" she asked, standing upright. "The smallfolk will suffer the most. There are dozens of villages along the border. If you will not act, Ser Otto, then I will bring this to my sister. Rhaenyra would never abandon-"

"I did not say that I would not act." Otto stood up as well. "You are right. Princess Alyssa has only ever advocated for peace. There has been no further report of bloodshed beyond the initial attack. The Queen feels it is best to send a representative to investigate the truth and provide support to Lord Caron until Lord Borros arrives."

Daella raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Who is she sending?"

"Prince Aemond."

It took her a moment to process his words. "That is...an interesting choice."

"Of the two, Prince Aemond is more suited to this task than his brother." He sighed, flexing his hands anxiously. "However, the prince is...young. Touring the Riverlands has not prepared him for this. So, I propose that you accompany him."

Daella hung her head. Her body already ached from the thought of potentially fighting again. She was too young to feel so old. "I've only just returned home."

"This is different, Princess." Otto walked around his desk and approached her. "I know that the Queen and I don't always show it, but we are eternally grateful for everything you have done for the crown and the realm. You've taken on so much at such a young age. And I apologize for not acknowledging your dedication and loyalty sooner."

Daella met his gaze, astounded by the sincerity in his voice. "I want nothing more than to see you and my grandson finally wed," he continued, "but unfortunately, duty calls you both. Prince Aemond is eager to prove himself. But he is a bit...headstrong. You can provide balance. Ensure that this matter is resolved amicably."

She thought over his request and the Queen's decision. Various scenarios played in her mind of what she and Aemond would face. After a long moment, she inhaled deeply, summoning her confidence. "For this mission to be successful, I need two things from you. And they must be guaranteed."

"Within reason," he agreed.

"Sending Prince Aemond is the Queen's idea...naturally, he will be acting on her authority. And you must admit, the Queen doesn't always make the best decisions." Otto reluctantly nodded. "So give me your authority. You represent the King's will and wisdom. Let it extend to me. In order for me to ensure peace, I need the power to do so."

"That is easy enough," he said. "And the second thing you require?"

"While I was in the North, I wrote nearly a hundred letters to Aemond. He hasn't received a single one. I would like my letters to be given to him..if they haven't already been destroyed."

He furrowed his brows. "I had no idea you wrote such letters. Truly."

"I know you weren't the one hiding them," she said.

Otto hummed in response, realizing her implications. "I shall locate your letters. It's only right that Prince Aemond knows he was not forgotten while you were away."

Daella gave him an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Lord Hand. And rest assured that this border skirmish will be resolved. The last thing the realm needs is dragons fighting each other."

Dornish Marshes, the next day...

"Dragons approaching!"

Caron soldiers backed away as Vhagar plopped down onto the dry grass. Dust blew up all around her, causing the old dragon to growl. Silverwing circled around the field and then landed beside her. Daella dismounted first, dressed once again in armor with her sword at her hip. She scratched in-between Silverwing's scales along her neck. Silverwing purred, turning her large head to nuzzle her rider. Daella laughed and placed kisses against the silver dragon's cheek, unbothered by the stares of the Stormlanders. She surveyed the camp as she waited for Aemond to climb down. The banners of House Caron were expected, but the banners of Houses Dondarrion and Selmy were not. This is bad.

"I was told the marshes were full of fields of heather and green hills," Aemond said as he approached, his own armor gleaming in the sun.

Daella found it peculiar how similar the design of his armor reminded her of Daemon's. Though all Targaryen armor held dragon-scale designs, Aemond's chest plate had dragons engraved across his chest, studded with rubies and obsidian. It was eye-catching, shiny, and new. Daella glanced down at her own. The steel had lost its luster after years of fighting. The plate covering her from her collar to the bottom of her ribs was a single, solid piece with dragon wing detailing along the upper chest and underbust. The Targaryen symbol rested in the center - now a faded red.

She turned back to their surroundings. The hills that surrounded the camp were a patchwork of beige and pale green with various rocks and boulders littered about. The Red Mountains loomed in the distance. "Well, it is winter."

Aemond grunted. "It seems Ser Criston has overexaggerated the beauty of his homeland."

"Blackhaven is much nicer than the borderlands, trust me." She nodded for him to follow her towards the Caron soldiers waiting a safe distance away from the dragons. "I spent a good amount of time here during my progress of the Stormlands four years ago. Lord Caron is an honorable man, a proficient swordsman...but he has no taste for war."

"War may be unavoidable," he said, glancing back at Vhagar. "Though it won't be much of a fight with me here. Hardly seems fair for our cousin."

She rolled her eyes, sighing in disappointment. "Do not underestimate Princess Alyssa. She may be a pacificist but she is still Prince Daemon's daughter."

He grunted again. "The so-called King of the Narrow Sea? Another exaggeration."

"Slaying the Crabfeeder and ending the War in the Stepstones is hardly an exaggeration," she argued.

"Yet, Ser Criston bested him."

Daella grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "Tourneys and war are not the same thing, Aemond. I spent three years fighting alongside our uncle in the North. I've seen firsthand what he's capable of."

"And that means I should fear his daughter?" he asked coolly.

"It means you should be cautious." She relaxed her grip, giving his arm a gentle shake. "I'm only trying to help you. Restraint is not weakness."

Aemond placed a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb against the corner of her mouth. "I haven't forgotten our goal here. While I appreciate your council, you must remember that the Stormlands deserve justice. If our cousin truly desires peace as you say, then she will have her vassals answer for their crimes."

"Prince Aemond, Princess Daella!" They turned their heads in unison. Lord Caron marched over, flanked on either side by his lieutenants. "Welcome to the Marshes!"

Daella released Aemond as he removed his hand. "Thank you, Lord Royce. It is good to see you again. Though I wish it were under different circumstances."

"As do I, Princess." He paused to catch his breath and then turned to Aemond, bowing his head. "I am honored to receive you, my Prince. Having you and the mighty Vhagar here is sure to inspire the men."

Aemond hummed as he scanned the camp. "What is our current standing?"

"House Dondarrion and House Selmy have each sent three hundred men," Lord Royce said. "I have brought another five hundred from Nightsong. All seasoned warriors who know how to handle Dornish snakes."

"Has there been any more attacks?" Daella asked.

"Not yet, Princess. The Dornish have set up camp in the mountains." Lord Royce pointed to the southeast. "My scouts counted about a thousand men all bearing the banners of House Fowler."

"The numbers mean little with two dragons present," Aemond said. "Lord Borros has called his banners and will join us soon."

"I fear he will be too late, my Prince. Yesterday, three dragons were spotted landing just outside the Dornish camp."

Aemond and Daella exchanged glances. "Did your scouts mention the color of the dragons?" Daella asked. "No doubt one of them is Starfyre."

Lord Royce nodded. "Yes, Starfyre was spotted. Prince Qoren and Princess Alyssa are in the camp. The other dragons...both were notably smaller, but one was white and the other pale green."

Aemond inhaled sharply, a buzz of excitement running through him. "The same colorings as Arrax and Vermax. The dragons ridden by Princess Rhaenyra's eldest sons."

Daella slowly shook her head. "It can't be. Our sister would never betray the crown...regardless of the alliance she has with Dorne."

"Perhaps that is exactly why her sons are here," he said, narrowing his eye.

She turned to Lord Royce. "Has Prince Qoren sent over terms or any word of his intent?"

"His wife did. Princess Alyssa wishes to meet for a parlay."

Daella raised her eyebrow at Aemond but he only grunted, turning away to glare at nothing. She liked the way he pouted. But there was no time to tease him. Daella exhaled and faced Lord Royce once again. "Send a messenger to the Princess Consort. We will meet with them."

End of Chapter 16