Chapter 36: Homeward Bound

"Your Grace, wake up your Grace." Rhaenys' eyes fluttered open as she groaned, still groggy. Blinking, the sight of Leaf formed in front of her. The child of the forest still quite shocking her. "Time to change your dressings."

"Right… right." Rhaenys eased herself slightly upright, but made sure not to jostle her wounds. "Doesn't look like they're bleeding too much anymore."

Leaf nodded. "You're body is filled with magic, and it is working to heal you alongside my home remedies. I am glad." The used dressings were stripped away and Leaf began to replace them, first smearing cleaning balm upon the skin which made Rhae wince. "You were lucky, Princess. You did not have proper weapons to fight off that beast."

A dry chuckle. "Yeah, think that's obvious. Glad you showed up when you did, killed that shadowcat."

A frown. "You don't believe me about the identity of your attacker, do you?"

Rhaenys furrowed her brows. "You do understand it is hard to believe."

Leaf cocked her head. "Harder to believed than fire-breathing monsters flying through the air?" At Rhae's glare, Leaf backtracked. "Apologies, they are not monsters to you, are they?"

"They are not - and we can see them with our bare eyes."

"Only a little over a decade ago, they were extinct."

"The evidence was always there."

"As it was for the Long Night, and the Others. All that is different between the two is that one was longer in the past than the other." She continued to bandage Rhae's stomach. "History does not stop becoming history because of the passage of time. Truth doesn't stop being truth because those that lived it perish."

What Leaf said was true, but ultimately that which happened so long ago was shrouded in mystery simply because those that witnessed it were long dead. Brutal honesty that Rhaenys had to acknowledge. "I cannot deny the possibility, much as those couldn't deny that my kepa entered the flames of his burning tent and emerged with a dragon, but it still seems far-fetched."

Leaf gave her a wan smile. "This will not be the journey in which you find out the horrible truth, Princess Rhaenys. You will one day return, and that shall be when the reality dawns just as dusk sets on the world."

She narrowed her eyes. "You sound like Lady Melisandre, the religious advisor to my kepa. She speaks in riddles as well."

"Riddles are what mortal men call the fog of knowledge," the child of the forest replied. "You speak of the tides that draw your ships to and fro but know not what causes them. Does that makes the existence of the tides any less? Or why the sun shines? Or why the earth moves, or explodes in fire?"

"I am sure you didn't wish this to become a philosophical debate," Rhae winced at the end as Leaf dusted the last of her cleansing balm upon her wound. "We could, ah, go around in circles."

"Indeed we could." A smile. "Just one last piece of advice, my dear. The fire will surround you, and ward off the ice, but it is the dark flame that burns the brightest."

Rhaenys furrowed her brows. "What is that supposed to mean?"

A chuckle. "He told me that you would not know the meaning at first, but in time you will, and he sees all." Rising, she ran a hand along the bandages as she pulled back the fur blanket that covered her. "I shall leave you to your recovery, Princess. For soon you will return to your domain, and your dragon." It was then that she left.

Passing Leaf, Ygritte strode to where Rhaenys rested - carrying two steaming chunks of meat skewered with their daggers. Her posture was tense, and a caution in her expression. "You look like you could eat." She seemed to be more careful in her language, and it only made Rhaenys smirk at how her accent butchered it. "Don't laugh at the woman carryin' yer food." For emphasis, joined by a scowl.

"Apologies," Rhaenys replied as her lover sat next to her. "And aye, it smells wonderful." Hungry as she was, she bit into the meat delicately. It was piping hot, but wonderful to the tongue. "What is this?" she said mid-chew.

"Do ye' really want to know, Princess?" Rhaenys thought for a moment and shook her head, the two eating in silence. "If you're gonna ask about Nysar, she's off hunting on her own. She'll be safe."

"I know, I can sense her." Nysar wanted to be by her side the entire time, but Rhaenys wanted to poor dear to go out and walk and hunt. To exercise free in the woods while she could.

The redhead eyed her. "How're you doing?" Her voice was now subdued a bit. That caution returning with a vengeance.

Rhae looked at her with a warm gaze. Eager to set her mind at ease. "Better. Leaf says I'm healing well."

Ygritte let out a relieved sigh, the tension leaving her. "Thank fuck." Carefully, she leaned over and kissed Rhaenys firmly on the mouth. "I was so fucking worried." Another kiss, pressed over and over - a tenderness that Rhaenys did not expect unless they were naked and writhing together. "Seein' that damned beast spill your blood…"

"Stop," she murmured, holding the redhead by the nape of her neck and battling her tongue. Smothering the flurry of fearful words into a subdued, teary-eyed silence. "I can safely say that I am alright."

Nodding, Ygritte rested her forehead on Rhaenys', just holding it there for what seemed like the longest time. "Well… never thought it'd happen, but it fucking did."

"What?" Rhaenys breathed, just enjoying the closeness.

"All young Free Folk girls tease each other… 'Yer ginna fall fer' a Crow.' You may not be a Crow, but yer' close to it, Rhaenys." She smiled sheepishly. "The dastardly fate of a Free Folk girl."

Rhaenys smiled back, cupping Ygritte's cheek. "The big, bad dragon caught an innocent spearwife in her claws." For a while they held each other close, finishing their meal and enjoying what quiet moments they had before the realities of life would crash upon them again… just like in the cave.

"We should've never left that cave, Rhaenys," Ygritte murmured, clutching Rhae, her body flush against her side.

"Ladies can't live on sex alone," the Targaryen replied.

"Can't hurt to try." They both chuckled, only for Ygritte's expression to grow serious again. "I love you."

Eyes widening slightly, was it strange that Rhaenys felt her heart flutter rather than the slight tightness that occurred whenever Torrhen said the same? "You love me?"

"Damn it all, I do." Her blue eyes didn't break their lock with Rhae's violets. "Been told a lot of things… both by Tormund and my own mind - sayin' that I was stupid to get close to ye' like I did… just couldn't help it."

Rhaenys felt a warmth course through herself, knowing that on instinct, she was overjoyed. But she was no random maiden lost in the wilderness whom could do what she pleased. Nymerion made her more able to, but her title was a shackle that couldn't be disregarded. She needed to challenge this, to explore this before she spoke on her feelings. And what a feeling she had for this wildling girl. "I tried to kill you, first time we met."

Ygritte smirked. "Tried." Laconic, but true. Rhaenys had no reply. "Ye' could've killed me first thing, but you stopped. Deliberately missed."

It wasn't just at that moment that Rhaenys thought about that moment. The last moment where she wasn't a prisoner or fugitive, where she was truly a Princess - while bound as a prisoner, she'd beat herself up about it. Not killing the woman that captured her, knowing she could've killed Rast had she not hesitated over Ygritte. And yet, this wildling had become so much more than a mistake to her. Than someone to which her mercy had caused only pain to her. No, she never regretted it anymore.

She didn't kill Ygritte because the woman captivated her from the beginning. Only now did she understand why her kepa had fallen for the strange wolf girl at first glance. Dragons had that sixth sense.

Time only proved such instincts right.

"I know why I saved you, but you rescued me as well - even though it could kill you."

Ygritte shrugged. "I loved you even then, turns out." She rested her head upon Rhaenys' chest, nuzzling her breasts over her furs. "You dragons are irresistible, I assume."

A nod. "Oh, you don't know the half of it." Rhae kissed her on the forehead. "Oh, and I love you too."

Looking up suddenly, never did Rhaenys see Ygritte smiling so widely. "My Princess," she cooed, voice gentle and sweet. Melding herself as close as she could, as if one bit of gap would cause them pain - one Rhaenys felt as well. "Ye' know the act of stealin', right?"

"Stealing? Like what you did when you snuck me out of the camp?" A twinkle danced in Rhae's eyes.

Ygritte grinned back. "Aye, I did, and I claimed you then… you have yet to claim me though." A finger trailed up her spine. "When ye' steal me over the Wall, I'm yours forever. Be prepared for that, Princess."

"Oh, I'm going to be more than prepared. I hope you're able to handle it." Oh, grandmother… hope you can help me explain this to kepa and munas. Certainly any hope to betroth her would be harmed by Rhaenys arriving with a female wildling mistress… or they'd be overly eager. She snorted, replacing it with a kiss so Ygritte would not think her thoughts different. "Easier to steal a girl when one has a dragon." Quite a true statement, and Ygritte was quite responsive.

Was this how the other side lived?

While nothing could top the clear springs of Naath, a properly warmed tub filled with soap and scented oils was truly heaven. Her skin was a silky smooth rather than scrubbed raw with the cheap lye that was provided the household slaves. Missandei felt bad for them, but was not about to deny herself the accommodations due a free woman and guest of the Targaryen Royal Household.

And such were truly more than she could've ever hoped for even on Naath.

"No, your Grace, it is too much," she insisted, shoving the necklace back.

A cross look formed on Larra… no, Daenerys Targaryen's face. "Missandei, this is my gift to you. I have dozens where they came from and this will properly bring out your eyes." A glittering dark sapphire. Damned if it didn't provide a perfect contrast to her dark, exotic looks. "Matches the color of your dress as well."

Tonight was a private reception hosted by the Good Masters of Astapor for the Westerosi delegation. Missandei didn't expect to be invited, but Daenerys arrived insisting that she would, and who was she to deny it even though every fiber of her being was still inherently scared. As if the collar was still on her. "Mayhaps I should simply decline to arrive."

"Nonsense!" Daenerys shook her head. "You are no slave anymore, you are a free woman and as far as I am concerned a Westerosi Highborn."

"Westerosi highborn… no, I wasn't even from a significant family on Naath." What could she know of being a highborn? "At most, I am a house slave…"

"Is she ready?" Sansa Stark, another effortless Westerosi beauty albeit of the First Man variety, breezed in - only for her expression to fall. "The dress is stunning, but none of the rest?" She and Dany sported a white and dark burgundy dress respectively, a modest Braavosi fashion, while Missandei's was a glittering blue of Meereen that exposed much of her shoulders, upper chest, and calves. The Stark sighed. "You think you're still a slave, aren't you?"

Missandei bit her lip. "That's what they'll see me as."

Sansa raised a brow at Daenerys. "You're a free woman. It's your choice, but we would very much appreciate you to be there. We won't force you."

"Was that how I…" Dany gasped. "Forgive me, Missandei, I didn't mean to seem like I was ordering you."

The young freedwoman stared at the Princess as if she had sprouted two heads. No one ever apologized to a slave… or even to someone so significantly underneath them in blood and status. A Princess, apologizing to a freedwoman? On Naath that wasn't common, on Lys practically never, and in Astapor would be punished with flogging just for speaking of it.

But here she was. Raised almost to the same level as a Princess and the Lady of a great house. It was humbling, and truly made Missandei realize where she was. "I will… I will come, and no need to apologize. Mayhaps I am just a little scared." She smiled softly.

Sansa nodded, taking her hand. "Think not of it. Soon you will lord over these swine, but first…" She gently fastened the necklace to her neck - her bare neck. "Beautiful."

"Stunning," added Daenerys.

Missandei gazed at her reflection in the silver mirror. "I do look amazing." She wanted to be modest, but it wasn't a lie to say that the chambers contained three great, budding beauties.

"Dany, Sans." The voice of the Crown Prince wafted through the door right after a quick knock. "All decent?"

Daenerys giggled. "Oh, Baelon is such a gentleman." It looked to Missandei that the Targaryen Princess, based on the flash in her eye, wished that Prince Baelon was less of a gentleman. Being raised on Naath where such things weren't cloistered away where none could see had given her a proper sense of them - which worked out while working in the brothel. "Come in, we're all decent."

Baelon appeared, looking rather dashing in a loose Essosi outfit of the Targaryen colors. "Bear in mind, I know I look ridiculous," he admitted with a shrug.

"Never, Jon," spoke Sansa, clicking her tongue. "As handsome a Prince as one could speak of. Even in the local fashion."

"A compliment I cannot deny, for sure," he chuckled, only for his eyes to widen as he laid eyes on Missandei. A look of… if not desire then at least appreciation. It was a look Missy was used to, but for once so innocent that she couldn't help but look away, sheepishly. "Missandei… is that you?"

She couldn't respond, but it seemed as if Daenerys picked that up. "Making sure she looks like a proper highborn. Doesn't she look beautiful, Jon?"

"Um… ah… um…" hearing the Crown Prince of Westeros stumble over his words gave Missy the courage to look at him. His face was a half-shade between purple and red, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. "Yes, um… very beautiful."

"There is nothing keeping her from looking her best now," Sansa said, voice bubbly with her still-mostly intact childhood innocence. "And these Essosi dresses are beautiful. Wouldn't you think we'd look lovely in them, Jon? Or Rhaenys?"

It was clear that Baelon would burst as if a squeezed fruit if this continued. "I am quite sure you'd look lovely in anything." Both ladies near swooned at that, which was unnoticed by the Prince. "I shall wait with Ser Arthur and Ser Gerion until you are ready." Dipping his head in courtesy, he was off, leaving them alone.

Giggling, Dany rubbed her hands together. "Oh, that was fun."

"Jon makes it so easy," Sansa replied. "He pretends to be the proud and dynamic Prince, but in reality he's just a puddle of goo all underneath it."

Faced with the indomitable Targaryens and Starks - dragonriders and direwolf masters all at once - Missandei had many questions in which she had kept silent till the Prince was gone. Carefully fastening her gold bracelets that contrasted well with her dark skin, she started with a simple one. "I am curious, why do you call him 'Jon?' I am unaware of that being a pet name for 'Baelon.'"

Blinking, Daenerys shrugged. "It was something his munas always called him, a northern name of sorts. We never knew why but it's short and rolls off the tongue. He's always liked it."

"My father was fostered with a Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale, almost like a father to him. I've always thought he came up with the name and my aunt Lyanna picked it up." Sansa shrugged herself. "They never tell us anyway."

"I thought your family is a close one." Missy bit her lip. "How close you were, I envied it when in Lys, knowing I'd never see my family again." Damn it, now she started to tear up.

Daenerys embraced her. "We're your family now, Missy, and we love you."

"You truly mean that?"

A strong nod. "And remember, you are free. We don't control you, so you can go wherever you want, but if you wish to remain with us then you'll always count House Targaryen as your family."

There was really no other decision she wished to make, and it was her decision. "I choose my family." This time it was both girls that squealed and hugged her.

"Excuse me, Ser knight?" rising from her, albeit comfortable seat, sweet Baelgora Aekylosh walked to where the man stood guard. Well, one of the men at least. "I need to use the privy."

Shienna didn't expect Lord Alliser Thorne of Duskendale to stand watch over her, let alone escort a wee girl to the privy. He did not disappoint her expectations on the latter point. "Do I look like a nursemaid, girl?"

"But I really gotta go!" She was squirming.

"I said, I'm no nursemaid. Sit down and wait for whom the Hand sends for you."

Seeing her daughter suffering, Shienna had enough. "By Vermithor, my daughter needs to relieve herself. Have a heart."

"Yeah!" shouted the formerly silent Althor, glaring at Lord Alliser.

Thorne blinked, and rolled his eyes. "You, take Lady Baelgora to the privy." The guard clicked his heels and motioned for Baelgora to follow him. She half-ran, half-waddled, a trooper for holding in her bladder this time.

Shienna put her hands on her hips. "Was that so hard?"

"Look, Lady Aekylosh, I don't know what sort of witchcraft you did to convince whomever on the Small Council that you are some Valyrian highborn in need of an audience with the Hand or anyone - but I am a damn Lord, not some glorified guard."

"You're the Commander of the Household Guard. That makes you a guard." Shienna could kiss Althor right now, while Thorne only scowled. It was a hollow victory, for they were still locked in the infamous Maidenvault with no windows or foreseeable endgame that wasn't unpleasant as the hours ticked by. At least it's comfortable. The place was built for Princesses after all.

It had been an enlightening experience to arrive in Westeros for the first time. In King's Landing for the first time. Stories of the andal city were not flattering across the Narrow Sea, but the construction projects of the Sunrise Dragon and his Queens began to make the city into something to be admired than disgusted by. Not to mention that it was starting to take the appearance of a city worthy of being the capital of the new Valyrian domain.

To say that she and the children weren't awed by the many dragons flying overhead would be a lie.

The letter that was sealed by the Crown Prince and Ser Arthur respectively hadn't left the folds of her dress until they reached the gate to the Red Keep - just as legendary as its reputation. Skeptical were the guards and refused her entry until a dwarf ambled forward to inquire as to the commotion, Althor having grown belligerent and herself frustrated. Shienna recognized the Imp of Casterly Rock almost immediately, and the Imp Baelon Targaryen's seal. Thus, here they were, escorted to the Maidenvault by Lord Alliser Thorne to await what the Targaryens would do to them without Baelon, Daenerys, Sansa, or Arthur there to vouch for them.

"Muna, are they gonna kill us?" Althor murmured, hugging her side.

"Certainly not, the Imp saw the letter didn't he?"

Thorne snorted. "I wouldn't trust the Imp on anything. When he's not at the brothel or drunk, he's trying to woo the damned Martell girl." He rolled his eyes.

Shienna tightened her hold over her son. "Listen to him not, everything will be fine." She… half believed her own words. They weren't likely to be harmed in any way. At worst kicked out of the keep. Leaning back against the plush chair, tiredness began to set in. Althor snuggled to her side, and so did Baelgora when she returned from the privy. A little sleep wouldn't hurt… Soon she was out like a candle.

The harsh sound of a spearbutt slammed against stone woke Shienna suddenly. "Her Grace, the Queen," announced Lord Alliser, bending the knee.

Her eyes, still blinking away what could've been anywhere from ten minutes to two hours of sleep, didn't register right away the figure that entered. Eventually they widened at the sight of Queen Elia Martell in her regal glory, Targaryen house colors of black and red contrasting oddly well with her olive-skin, dark hair, and brown eyes.

"On your knee before her Grace."

Thorne's command was heeded, and Shienna guided her children to bend the knee before Elia. Eyes downcast. "Your Grace," she said.

"Rise," came the reply, and Shienna did. Smoothening the wrinkles from her dress. Elia wasn't alone, accompanied by Lord Tyrion and another woman. Hair a crimson red and staring… intently at Shienna. As if her eyes bored into her soul. As for the Queen… "Lord Tyrion gave me an interesting letter purporting to be from my son."

Shienna nodded. "Kessa, Crown Prince Baelon."

"It indicates that my goodsister, Princess Daenerys, met you in Lys. That you are a family of Valyrian highborns but not dragonriders and instead living in the gutter."

"He gets all the best adventures," Tyrion quipped, chuckling.

Biting back a smirk at that, Shienna nodded - glad the children were quiet. "Not always in the gutter, but that was our present circumstance."

Her brow rose. "If you weren't dragonriders, what were you?"

Before Shienna could answer - not that she didn't doubt Jon wrote the truth in a letter - the redhead answered for her. "Fire maeges." Her lips curled into a smile, not entirely friendly. "As imbued with the magic of the Valyrian Pantheon as dragonriders, with Vermithor as their patron."

"Does she speak the truth?"

Gulping, Shienna nodded. "Kessa, your Grace. We are the house of the Dancing Dragon."

Elia's lips were pursed in a tight frown. "Well then, demonstrate it." She gestured with her hand. "Show me you are one of these fire maeges as my son asserts."

"My muna is no liar!" insisted Althor, tugging on Shienna's skirts. "Show her the White Flames of the Dancing Dragon."

"Enough, son."

"'White Flame of the Dancing Dragon,' you say?" Tyrion grinned. "I for one would like to see this, your Grace."

Elia nodded. "So would I."

Shienna sighed. This was more of Baelgor's signature - they performed together, and she hadn't engaged in it since his death - but all of House Aekylosh learned it. She clasped her hands together. "I will need a clear space on the floor, your Grace." Elia made a gesture with her head and the guards pushed the furniture to the side and made a large well. Althor looked excited, while Baelgora knew something was transpiring.

Showtime then. Slowly she walked out to the empty floor, stopping right in the middle and turning around to face the Queen. She closed her eyes. Baelgor, if you're out there, I could use your help. Suddenly her inner flame began to stoke within, surging confidence. I love you. Shienna, her eyes still shut, lifted her arms to her sides. Nothing happened for the longest stretch of seconds as she focused her breathing, inhale, exhale, inhale…

The inner flame surged out and suddenly a ball of white fire sparked and erupted in the palm of each hand. Lord Alliser gasped and stumbled back, while all others fell silent and unbelieving at the sight of black fire. The awe on Lord Tyrion's face and the shock on the Queen's steadied Shienna and made her less nervous. More prepared for what was to come.

As she had done with Baelgor, Shienna began moving to unheard music, dancing gracefully in a back to forth with precision and power in every step. Every move of the hands, as if she were wielding a sword. The flames extended and moved harmoniously, trailing with her movements as the fire expanded and contracted. She twirled around, the tongue of black flame spiraling around her body…

With a flourish that caused even the Queen to gasp, she shot her hands upward and the flame flew over her head, trailing everywhere they went.

Her dress, of Volantene cut and styled in her house colors, billowed around her as she spun and swung her leg. It was momentary but the flames also billowed out from the circle that cut around her. Baelgor would always do a somersault, but it wasn't practical in a dress so she merely cavorted into flexible shapes, the flames mimicking. Finally at the end, Shienna knelt and slammed her hand to the ground. Not only did her conjured flames react, but the flames of the Maidenvault's main hearth erupted out into six tendrils of white flames soaring over everyone.

Just a hint of fear formed on the Queen, which made Shienna smirk. Enjoying herself, a flick of the wrist and a tortuous mental strain transformed each tendril into a white fire dragon, flying overhead in a wide ellipse.

They gaped in awe, even the Queen, who reached out to try and touch one. The dragon came close to perching on her hand but the spell had reached its course. Shienna brought them back to her, fusing into a ball of fire that expanded until it was too much and disappeared. Her body nearly buckled at that, sweat soaking her dress and forming a sheen on her head, but she stayed upright. Waiting for a response.

None was forthcoming for the longest time until Lord Tyrion clapped. "I cannot be drunk, for I could never imagine something so wonderful." He turned to the Queen. "I dare say the letter isn't a forgery, or describing a trick."

Elia, staring at her hand, seemed to shake off a trance. "You don't seem to be lying, Lady Aekylosh, but there is still more to inquire." She composed herself. "You may stay as guests of the Royal family in the Maidenvault until time comes as to make a final decision. Lord Alliser and Lord Tyrion will see that you and your children are given guest right."

For the first time in a long time, Shienna Aekylosh felt she could relax.

Not for the first time she had met Aegon Targaryen, Nymella Toland found the… conflicting feelings for him warring within her. He was annoyingly persistent still, eyes always twinkling with desire for her. Going beyond what was expected of a Prince to a subject who needed his assistance - much as it rankled her pride, after the latest piracy raid she needed the help of at least Sunspear, the Crown a more than adequate substitute. Aegon used that need to continue his pursuit of her, and she wanted to hate him for it.

But he was genuinely helpful and caring to help. The Queens had raised a diligent and devoted young Prince. Those under her care in the villages and keep adored the 'Dornish Dragon' and cheered him as he went about her lands organizing defenses when he wasn't with her maester sending ravens to the other keeps close to Ghost Hill or the coast. Men raised toasts to his health, boys and girls swarmed him, and young maidens - and young men as well - very readily propositioned themselves to him. Nymella didn't know if he took them up on the offers, though her body burned with jealousy at each one.

Wanting to rip the impudent whores' heads off.

And there it was. Why was she jealous? He wasn't hers - she didn't want him to be hers, nor she his, but she felt jealous regardless. Oh, it was a mess.

"Goodnight, mama."

Smiling, Nymella leaned down to kiss the crown of four nameday-old Teora's skull. "Goodnight, my sweet apple," she cooed. Valena had grown out of her mother's more sugary affections, but thankfully not her sweet apple. Her daughters were the only benefit she received from her marriage, and her whole world. "I hope your dreams are filled with tarts and toffee apples."

"Can I have one?" Teora asked, smiling.

She chuckled. "Not before bed, sweet apple." Teora pouted, which nearly made her chortle. "Mayhaps tomorrow, if you go about your lessons without complaint."

That seemed to perk her up. "Can I go to the village baker with Prince Aegon? The tarts are tasty and Prince Aegon is wonderful."

Nymella sighed. "I'll have to ask him, but only if you're good at your lessons."

"I promise, mama." Nymella then kissed her cheek and headed out of the bedchamber, smiling at her daughter before closing the door.

"'Tarts and toffee apples?'"

Almost jumping out of her skin, Nymella swiveled around to find Prince Aegon leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face, arms crossed. "It is unseemly to give a lady a fright, my Prince," she replied, clasping her chest over her heart. "And didn't your mothers use childhood pet names for you?"

"Aye, they still do, but not that particular one… and it's just a side of you that I've never heard before."

"That's because my family is not something you have access to, while my duties as Lady of this Keep is another matter." He merely raised a brow. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

He shrugged. "I asked the maester where you were. He said here."

Nymella clicked her tongue. "Alright then."

"If you want, I would be more than happy to escort young Teora to the pastry baker… if she's done with her lessons of course." There was that smirk again, one that made Nymella both want to punch him and to kiss him. To strangle him and to fall on her knees and… No, she would not blush.

Finally, she spoke. "I am indebted to you for that." Truly, it was an offer that warmed her heart. "My daughter would be thrilled." Perhaps she was weak, or perhaps this was proper, but… "Would you like to share a drink before bed? As a token of my gratitude?"

Aegon nodded. "You need not ask." She both hated and loved the sparkle in his eyes.

Her solar was decorated in a feminine style. No hunting trophies or garish display of weapons, but tasteful art pieces, felt-upholstered couches, and quite a lot of color. Nymella did it to assert dominance over her husband in the early days, and had since grown to like it. Feeling content. Many men that came calling for business would look on it in some sort of distaste, but Aegon merely lowered himself into one of her couches. "My muna has the same dress," he said.

"Oh?" Her gown was less modest than what she normally wore, two thin straps holding up the dress looped across her chest with the hemline going to her knee. "I should be secure in my fashion choice, if the Queen partakes."

A nod. "She always told Rhaenys that our kepa and muna Lya loved that dress - never made much sense to me until I saw you in it, and now I see it… ugh," he shuddered.

Nymella couldn't help but giggle. It was adorable. "You should be glad your parents love each other, your Grace. Many aren't so lucky." Like her daughters. Hopefully he wouldn't delve deeper.

She was lucky. "True." As she went for her wine flagon, he piped up. "I'll have an Arbor gold."

"Dornish red for you, and I hope you were only japing," she snorted.

Aegon chuckled. "You believed me for a moment, I am sure."

Nymella would not give him the satisfaction and handed him a cup. "Here, enjoy." She sipped at hers, mirroring him. It had a fruity taste and was quite even as it went down her throat - only the best for the Prince of House Targaryen. "How goes the preparations?"

"I think your keep is safe, though nothing is foolproof." Aegon eyed her. "I cannot speak to the rest of Dorne, but I will do all but promise that Ghost Hill will suffer no more great loss, especially its treasure of a Lady."

The glittering smile he gave her combined with the compliment to make her heart heavy. Nymella felt a slight heat begin to simmer in her, one that was both welcome and undesired. She cleared her throat. "I have thought we have been honest with each other, my Prince, yet you continue to indicate your effort to seduce me."

Taking a gulp, something changed in Aegon as his banter left him. Assuming a more… direct posture. As if he were on the sparring court. "Alright. I enjoy our little back and forth but if you wish me to be more honest then I shall be. Yes, Lady Nymella, I wish for us to be intimate."

There it was, and it made her breath hitch. "Is that all? Intimate?"

He blinked. "Yes. You are beautiful and smart. I could imagine no better bedmate."

"You are quite young."

"I'm young, but I'm not stupid to believe you are one of a kind."

She drank from her cup to hide her blush. He was a charmer, and Nymella thought that in the best way possible. "You are sweet, Prince Aegon, but I am the Lady of a Keep with two children. I have no desire to have some tawdry toss in the sheets."

"Is that how low you think of me?" was his response. It could've been out of anger, but instead it sounded… hurt. "There are some that would be good for that, but you are not one I should let go. Much like…" He trailed off.

Nymella found herself curious. "Much like?"

Aegon looked away. "Much like my first, Asha Greyjoy."

"Asha Greyjoy was your first?" The ward of the Targaryen Crown, it seemed as if Aegon had entrusted her with an important secret of his. "And you… loved her?"

He nodded. "It meant more to me than it did to her, I fell for her but Asha broke off our short love affair not long before I was set to come to Dorne. She said she wanted to get my emotional crap out of the way so I could enjoy myself... and not get attached by those trying to manipulate me."

"Smart of her... and it worked, I see?"

"To the manipulators, aye. But then someone genuine comes along." Aegon looked at her with a smile.

Again, her blush returned although there was no hiding it. Such a comment would've caused her to roll her eyes, but with the change to a deeper conversation it hit her fully. Made Aegon's comments fully sweet instead of irritating. Made her desire more of them "What do you see in me?"

He didn't miss a beat. "A breath of fresh air from all the sickeningly sweet and frankly obnoxious women at King's Landing, the type that mocked me in my boyhood in favor of my brother but now are begging for a place in my bed."

"I'm seven years older than you."

"A woman in a sea of girls, and it is a woman I desire."

Ahhh, so much did she wish to damn it all and kiss him. "Aegon…" It was the first time she used his first name only. "You are a Prince. You are not free to give your heart away so quickly, especially to someone like me - the Lady of a Keep. I have responsibilities to my keep and my daughters. It would cause a scandal even here in Dorne."

Draining the last bit of wine in the cup, he slammed it on the table. "Fuck it, then. Let's marry."

Nymella blinked, the alcohol haze beginning to affect on her body. "What?" Did he just say…?

"Aye, let's marry. I'll find a septon and then fly you to King's Landing on the morrow."

Her heart did a little bit of a clench at the sweeping declaration of intent, as did her cunt, imagining their wedding night as her many sensual dreams had. But Nymella wasn't the Lady of Ghost Hill on blood alone. Her mind won out, fighting the romantic and sensual haze. "You can't be serious."

"A dragon is always serious. They mate for life."

Nymella's world was spinning. "You want to marry me, just like that?"

A nod. "My kepa fell for my muna at their first meeting," he announced, referring to the Tourney at Harrenhal. "She fell for him when she heard him sing. This is no different, especially since I've come to know you." He rose from the table and approached her, grabbing her hand as she was too stunned to say anything. "I am not the Crown Prince, nor do I want to be. It allows me a measure of choice in the one I wish to marry, and I am offering it to you. Please accept."

Her jaw worked, but nothing came out. All possible responses died on her tongue, her mind and heart warring with each other. Her hand trembled in his light grip, and Nymella found her eyes drowning in the violets of his own. What was to happen? She couldn't predict, not even a second into the future…

"My lady." A knock on the door. "Is his Grace with you?"

They broke apart, Nymella trying to hide her flush. "Yes, maester. Come in."

The maester entered, bearing a scroll. "Raven from the Water Gardens for you, your Grace." He handed it to Aegon and scurried out, eying Nymella. She felt humiliated.

Grumbling, Aegon opened the scroll, only for his eyes to widen. "What is my uncle thinking?"

"Aegon?" There she was again, using his name.

"Uncle Doran is moving the court back to Sunspear, even after I told him that the piracy threat was not one to scoff at."

"Will you write him again?"

"No, I will need to head back to Sunspear to talk to him, and you to come with me." Before she could decline, he grabbed her hand again. "We must. Your attestation to your threat could convince him and my uncle Oberyn, please." Wordlessly she nodded. "And I was looking forward to giving a treat to your daughter."

One comment, and Nymella felt she was hopelessly lost to him. This man that had proposed marriage to her. Do I dare fall for him? Do I? There were no easy answers.