Aemond struggled to hold back a grin as Vaghar made another dive, stopping just above the sea's surface, her massive green talons grazing the water as she roared excitedly. Despite the dragon's old age, Aemond made it a point to ride her once a day at least, taking her for early morning flights before breaking his fast and joining his spoiled cousins for lessons.
It had been six months since he'd arrived at Driftmark, exhausted from the longest flight he'd ever taken, his body unused to being at high altitudes for long periods. His Velaryon cousins had been waiting for him, a stern Rhaenys watching over to ensure no unwanted incidents.
Despite his reservations and preconceived notions, the young prince enjoyed the freedom his fostering allowed him. The twins were a pain, Rhaena refused to speak to him for almost a month, not that he made much of an effort to approach her, and Baela had taken to beating him down in the training yard every chance she got.
It wasn't until an irritated Daemion locked them into a room together that they made any progress…
"He stole Vaghar!" Rhaena cried, hatred in her eyes as she held back tears, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.
"My love," Daemion murmured, "We discussed this. A dragon cannot be stolen. Vaghar chose him."
"At our mother's funeral." Baela snarled, her eyes throwing daggers at him, "He may not have stolen her, but he has shown he has no honour and cannot be trusted. Why is he here?"
Daemion sighed and ran a hand through his shoulder-length brown hair. Aemond wanted to sneer as he looked at it; the man was obviously more Andal than Valyrian, yet his egg had hatched in his cradle. What the fuck did he know about not having a dragon? Of having to fight for that honour?
Old resentments surged up in Aemond, warming his blood as he glared balefully back at Baela, refusing to break first. He had done nothing wrong, and these little cunts helped cut out his eye for a supposed slight. He would not cower.
"I chose to claim my birthright. Vaghar is my dragon now." Aemond sneered, ignoring the slight sniffle Rhaena let out as anger and frustration gave way to grief. Aemond couldn't bring himself to care.
Why should he show pity to these spoiled brats?
He was forced to leave behind his mother and Jocelyn because his father had finally decided to show a spine after abandoning him and his siblings for over a decade for Rhaenyra and her lot.
"Enough!" Daemion roared, standing up straight, his muscular frame imposing in the small living area he'd chosen for this little 'talk.' "Enough, Baela, what's done is done. As for you, cousin."
Aemond fought to hide his flinch as Daemion Targaryen turned the full force of his glare onto him, his purple eyes flashing in the candlelight.
"You will remember whose hall you are in and that you are talking to its heir. Unless you want to make an enemy of the future Lady of the Tides, you will grow up and apologise like a man. Baela and Rhaena, you as well." Daemion hissed, his voice dangerously low as he glared the children into submission, only showing them a reprieve when they all bowed their heads.
Surprisingly, it was a tearful Rhaena who stepped forward first. Voice soft but intentional, she murmured, "I apologise for the loss of your eye, cousin, and beg your forgiveness."
Aemond was shocked but, under the watchful eyes of his uncle, begrudgingly replied, "I apologise as well... cousin. And ask for forgiveness too."
The words felt like razors coming out of his throat, but surprisingly, once they were out, Aemond felt lighter than he had in the weeks since he'd first claimed Vaghar. Comforted in the knowledge that he'd done his part, Aemond turned an expectant gaze on a scowling Baela, who looked mulish as she stared down at her toes.
"I... I'm sorry. Please forgive me." Her words might have sounded strangled and forced, but Aemond felt it beneath him to call Baela out on her childish behaviour. Instead, he nodded once and then looked expectantly at his uncle, who looked close to having an ulcer but nodded in approval.
"All of you go. Dinner will be ready soon, and then off to bed." Daemion said, patting Baela on her silver curls and kissing Rhaena on the forehead before turning to leave.
Aemond fought the urge to sneer at the apparent affection being displayed, the desire to give into his jealousy strong. Looking down at his feet, he almost jumped when a firm hand landed on his shoulder, thumping him once in affection before vanishing.
Looking up in shock, Aemond made eye contact with Daemion, the man's mouth slightly quirked up in a half smile.
"Well done, lēkianna. I will see you tomorrow in the training yard."
The valyrian term for 'nephew' buzzed in Aemond's head as he watched Daemion make his retreat.
The sound of dragon song filled the air, pulling Aemond from his musings as two smaller dragons, one grey and one light green with pink accents, came to fly just a bit higher than a grumbling Vaghar. The ancient dragon grunted in irritation but made no move to scare off the younger dragons as they came into formation.
Grey Ghost chittered nervously as he always kept the smaller Moondancer between himself and Vaghar, his shy countenance still apparent despite being claimed by Rhaena for almost four years. Unlike the older, formerly wild dragon, the slim and spry Moondancer sang as she weaved in and out of Vaghars reach, a giggling Baela on her back as the pair literally played with fire.
"Grandmother sent for you, cousin. Best to go see what she wants before she tracks you down on Meleys and grounds you for a month. She did that to Baela when she stayed out past nightfall." Rhaena called over the whooshing wind and crashing waves. She giggled when an irate Baela uttered a wordless cry of outrage at her secret sharing.
Aemond rolled his eyes but yanked on Vaghars reigns and yelled, "Pālegon arlī, Vaghar."
He'd had seen firsthand how ferocious the 'Queen Who Never Was' was when her patience was tested. And the Lady of Driftmark's temper had been short ever since a grieving Lord Corlys had sailed off in search of 'blood and glory' in her words, fighting in the Stepstones.
Daemion had also gone for a while, coming and going from the battlefield with Quickfang as needed. Baela had begged and pleaded for her father to let her come along, but both Daemion and Corlys had refused, citing Baela's inexperience and Moondancer's small frame as reasons.
Aemond could see why they'd said no.
Baela had only begun riding Moondancer a few months ago when the Dragon Keepers had decreed the she-dragon finally big enough to ride. And it showed with how the pair flew, Moondancer frequently testing boundaries and Baela being reckless in steering the beast, narrowly missing multiple obstacles and putting herself and the ever-loyal Moondancer at risk with her stunts.
"Have fun, cousin!" Baela called, bringing Moondancer into another death-defying dive, bringing her under the water's surface before resurfacing with a screeching cry.
** Line Break**
Aegon scowled as he stood to attention in the middle of the Gold Cloaks training yard, his skin practically burning in his dark armour in the blistering sun. Everything in his body screamed at him to slouch, sit, and have a fucking glass of wine. But he couldn't because he was now squire to the fucking devil himself, Daemon Targaryen.
The man had been working him hard, not giving him an inch of freedom since Father had made Aegon into his squire. Woken up every day before the sun rose, running backbreaking drills all morning, forced to eat a bland but hearty meal with the other city watchmen for a midday meal, followed by Valyrian history and language lessons all afternoon until finally, Daemon released him for family supper with King's Landing branch of House Targaryen.
If Daemon thought he'd done well, they would go for dragon rides together at least twice a week, practising air manoeuvres and encouraging Aegon's bond with Sunfyre.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Aegon forced his aching muscles to straighten up as Daemon prowled toward him, black armour and gold cloak sparkling, dragon helm under his arm. The older man's face was blank and ice cold as he looked Aegon over, eyes assessing.
"What's wrong, nephew? Are you giving up on me already? It's not even midday." Daemon asked, his tone falsely casual.
Knowing it was a trick question, Aegon forced his face into a blank mask and barked, "No sir!"
Daemon's mouth quirked up into a smug smirk as he pulled Dark Sister from its holster and moved into a defensive position. "Show me then."
Fighting back a groan, Aegon pulled out his sword, live steel due to his now semi-regular patrols through the streets of King's Landing, always with a squad of Gold Cloaks at his back and under Daemon's close supervision.
Aegon kept his steps as light as possible as he and his uncle slowly circled each other, assessing their opponent for an opening. Seeing that Daemon was waiting for him to make the first move, Aegon swiftly arched out his sword in an overhead swing only to grunt when with a flippant twist of his wrist, Daemon blocked his strike and used the momentum of Aegon's attack to bring him off balance.
Aegon cursed as he tripped over his feet, whirling back around to stop Daemon's sword from slicing into his arm. He pushed his weight into him, shoving the older man back so he could dodge away and create some distance.
Again and again, they met; sparks flew off their swords, clashing in the silent yard, keenly aware of the audience they had attracted with their antics.
Aegon felt himself slowing as exhaustion nipped at his heels, but somehow, his uncle looked unfazed despite being forty-four years old. He felt the familiar bubbling of frustration hot in his chest. With a final bout of strength, he roared as he came at his uncle from behind, already feeling the weight of failure as Daemon spun on his heel and met his advance with only a raised eyebrow. Aegon grunted as his ass hit the dirt again, making him wheeze in pain as his back jerked with the movement.
"Your anger blinds you, nephew. You have the blood of the dragon within you, but if you can't control the fire in your blood, it will consume you." Daemon said in High Valyrian, holding out a hand and hauling Aegon to his feet.
Embarrassed at the defeat and humiliated that it was in front of an audience, Aegon muttered, "Yes, Uncle." Before trying to make his escape.
Daemon quickly stopped Aegon's retreat with a firm hand on his elbow, spinning the younger prince back around and putting both hands on Aegon's heaving shoulders. Slowly but firmly, Daemon brought Aegon closer until, to the young man's shock, their foreheads touched in a sign of affection.
"Do you know where you got your name from, boy? You are descended from kings. How do you want to be remembered? As a drunken craven or a warrior prince of the blood? Keep practising, and I promise you, you will be remembered."
Aegon could only nod, trying to hold back the brewing emotions threatening to bubble over as Daemon nodded and released him. Backing away and barking orders to bring the men back to attention for a role call.
** Line Break **
Aegon groaned as he lowered himself into the bath one of the many maids who served him had ready for him when he'd returned from training. His muscles felt weak, and he'd almost tripped climbing into the metal tub, but he'd managed to find his footing and was now enjoying what little peace his days allowed him.
Just as the young prince closed his eyes and contemplated taking a nap in the tub, the sound of his chamber doors crashing open had him jumping and whirling around to see his irate mother marching towards him, face flushed with righteous fury.
"Show me!" Alicent cried as she barely batted an eye at her eldest son's nudity, "Show me what that monster has done to you."
"Mother, we were only training -"
"No! No Aegon, that is only the excuse they use to explain why the king's firstborn son comes back to his chambers every day covered in bruises and stinking of filth."
Aegon could only sit back and drown out his mother's rant as he rubbed his bruised arms with a soapy cloth, washing off the coat of grime he accumulated daily in the streets, sweating in his armour.
" -Aegon… Aegon, are you even listening to me? Aegon!"
Aegon rolled his eyes and stood, stepping out of the tub and ignoring his mother's horrified gasp as she took in the litany of bruises his latest tour through Flee Bottom had gifted him and the thorough beating his uncle had doled out.
"I won't stand for this!" Alicent cried, her brown eyes wide with tears as she clenched her fists and pretended to be the doting mother Aegon knew she wasn't. Seven Hells, most days Aegon doubted the woman liked him, let alone loved him. "The king won't stand for this!"
Aegon snorted as he stepped into a pair of soft cotton trousers, leaving his now-growing muscles on display as he spat, "You mean my father? He is the one who tasked Uncle Daemon with 'making me a man.' He won't care that I'm actually performing my duties to the city watch."
"Your father deeply cares for you, as do I."
"Father ignores me; you harass me when it's convenient for your crusade against my sister."
"Half-sister."
"What does it matter? Rhaenyra cannot touch Aemond or me without being reviled as a Kinslayer. As Maegor come again. She can't -"
"But she will, Aegon! Because you are -"
"The challenge! I know, Mother!"
The sound of flesh hitting flash rang throughout the room as Alicent's palm smacked into Aegons check before her claw-like nails grabbed his chin, digging into his cheek viciously. Aegon, of course, didn't even bother trying to defend himself, despite seeing the slap coming. Because despite everything she'd done, she was still his Mother, and he couldn't bring himself to raise a hand to her.
"You will be our king Aegon, or you will sentence us to death. It's your choice." Alicent spat, her brown eyes sparking madness and hate before she forced her queenly veneer back on and released him. "Rhaenyra might play at being Princess of Dragonstone for now, but it is only a matter of time before she gathers her forces and returns to the Red Keep. Figure out which side you are on, Aegon."
And with that, she was gone as quickly as she'd come.
Aegon chuckled as he looked into the mirror and wiped at a drop of blood that slowly pooled and spilled down his cheek where her nails had cut into the skin. Shaking his head, Aegon looked around and scowled when he couldn't find a single bottle of wine anywhere, fucking Diana and her meddling. None of the maids would serve him at the king's command.
Reaching out, Aegon rang the bell that called for his valet. When the weasel of a man stepped inside, Aegon snarled, "I will take my meal in my rooms. Tell the kitchen to hurry the fuck up. I am tired."
"Would his highness like a bandage? I could call for a maester."
"No, just get out. Fuck off!"
The man quickly bowed and scurried away, leaving Aegon to his misery as he climbed into his bed, pulling the cover over his head to hide from the world. When would this end?
** Line Break **
Helaena hummed a tune as she watched one of her many giant spiders crawl across her hands. The arachnid had been a welcome gift from her cousin Alyssa, along with a whole new wardrobe in various colours, not just green. Her current gown was a beautiful purple, with puffy silk sleeves that tickled her skin and allowed Helaena to breathe.
"What is this one's name, sister?" Rhaenyra asked from her perch in front of the fireplace, where she looked over some parchments covered in numbers. Ever since Helaena had been shipped off the Dragonstone, her elder sister and her family had made a point to make Helaena feel as welcome and included as possible. Despite the dreamer's often shy countenance.
Helaena didn't bother to look up as she muttered, "Archie, the arachnid. His species is one of the largest spiders in the known world. Their pincers produce venom to paralyse their prey. Of course, it's not enough to harm a creature larger than a bird, but it is said to feel like your veins are burning if bitten."
Unlike her mother, who often frowned and shied away from Helaena's creatures, Rhaenyra looked intrigued as she set down her parchment and quill to observe the spider climbing up Helaena's arm towards her large mop of silver curls.
"He looks like he wants to turn your beautiful hair into a nest. Best to stop him before that, Hela."
Helaena frowned but followed her sister's instruction, gently stopping Archie's ascent and placing him in his carrier for safekeeping.
Coming to sit by her younger sister's side, Rhaenyra regarded the young girl gently, giving her a soft smile. "Is this one your favourite, Hela?"
"Spools of black and spools of green. The red comes between." Helaena muttered, her eyes glazed over in distant memories as Rhaenyra frowned but didn't try to rouse her little sister from her ramblings.
This continued on for several minutes, Helaena rocking back and forth, her body growling cold and clammy as she clenched her fists and muttered riddles under her breath. "He had to close an eye. Emerald to sapphire, emerald to sapphire."
Rhaenyra frowned but, as covertly as possible, pulled out her quill and copied everything Helaena muttered, so she could decipher it later. Once it became clear Helaena wouldn't rouse without assistance, Rhaenyra gently took her ice-cold hand in hers and gave it gentle squeezes until Helaena's fingers twitched under hers and warmed.
Helaena blinked as her eyes cleared, and she looked down to see where Rhaenyra's hand grasped hers and, with a jerk, broke free of the gentle hold and looked away, her face pinched with discomfort.
Rhaenyra didn't bother to chase her as Helaena quickly retreated into herself, coming to stand and murmuring, "I promised Mother I'd continue my needlework."
"Of course, sweetling, I'll go check on your cousins."
And with a swish of her long skirts, Rhaenyra was gone. Leaving Helaena to her thoughts as she picked up the emerald and gold handkerchief she'd been working on embroidering at her Mother's request for Aegon.
Aegon, her brother, her betrothed.
Helaena had never really had an opinion over who she married. Being a Targaryen princess, it had always been inevitable, and she was used to inevitables. Her dreams were filled with them. As if brought on by her train of thought, Helaena's mind was filled with images of curly brown hair and greasy silver locks.
"The road less travelled… a butterfly flaps his wings, and a hurricane forms," Helaena murmured, shoving aside the images of strong boys and blood trails to focus on the present.
The sound of dragon song filtered in from the massive windows that led out to a terrace outside Helaena's room, capturing her attention as a slender blue form flew past, almost too fast for the eye to capture. A brilliant sparkling pale blue and silver against the stormy grey skies above.
"Trickles of ending thread, yet to be woven." She muttered, tracing the web on her windowsill. A small spider crawled onto her finger. "Cast a stone into the depths… ignite dragons' breath or lure the lullaby of slumber. Under the mountain, a volcano roars…." She watched the insect delicately move up her arm, a part of her wishing that she could be its kin. "Blood paves the crossroads."
She sighed, letting the spider move back onto the windowsill. Silently, the little thing scurried off, but before it could make its escape, Helaena brought her hand down hard, smashing it to pieces while she silently regarded the small mess its implosion had left behind.
Blood paves the crossroads…