Chapter 38: Return of Crow's Eye
First thing that registered was the glow. The red-orange illumination of a fire burning in the distance. Far it was, but so intense and bright that it covered Aegon in a pleasant heat that called out to his unburnt flesh and dragonblood. So warm, so comforting. Even as his eyes fluttered in the space between sleep and wakefulness it lulled him back to a peaceful slumber…
"Cousin…"
His head felt heavy, movement sluggish, so why not…?
"Aegon! Wake up!"
A thump to his side jolted Aegon awake. He blinked, coughing as he pushed up… only for his head to explode in agony. "Ah, fuck… what happened?!" He grunted out, wobbling unsteadily to his feet.
"They shot us, cousin!" Trystane, shaking visibly, pointed off into the distance. "Look what they're doing!"
His skull pounded as Aegon tried to force clarity back into him… only for the panoply before the Prince to take care of it. He staggered, gaping in shock as his mind returned to reality. The memories flashing back, of the merchant cogs that unleashed some sort of projectile at Tessarion. Of her falling from the sky just as the unknown fleet attacked Sunspear - from his vantage point he could see it all. The town aflame, screams of the terrified echoing over the roar of the fire. Ships unleashed a new wave of incendiary ammunition from their trebuchets, this time aiming for the keep itself.
"How… how long have we been…?"
"Just now… by the gods, cousin, what do we do?!" Trystane seemed to vacillate between mindless panic and sorrow. "Our family… they're dead, aren't they?"
"Don't say that…" Gripping his cousin's shoulder tightly, Aegon's hand shot to her side, finding
Fyrefist still encased in its scabbard. That worry out of the way, he looked around. Frantically searching for… "Tessarion!" His legs pumped, almost tripping over rocks upon the uneven beach several times before cresting the small hill. Finding his dragon.
The great beast seemed unhurt. She was drenched in saltwater and her lower half - tail and all - were submerged. Tessarion raised her head, but unfocused eyes frittered about the sluggishly thrashing neck. Breaths were shallow.
Aegon made to approach, only for a bark to draw his attention. He'd recognize it anywhere as he turned and Smoke bounded into his arms with a relieved lick. "Boy, good to see you!"
"Aegon!"
Oh thank fuck… "Ari!" Cousin and cousin embraced tightly, an embrace joined by a crying Trystane. Guards surrounded them both, at least a dozen, at the head of two score of servants and courtiers. "What happened?"
Arianne gazed at the conflagration with half-worry, half-rage. "Those pirates, the ones Nymella was complaining of… they attacked us. I hope you and Tessarion burn them to ash… Seven Hells, what happened to her?!"
Aegon winced. "Tess was hit by a projectile from one of the ships, covering her in some sort of mist." The dragon's neck was now laying on the gound, a tiny puff of flame let out as someone tried to get too close. "She looks like she's on milk of the poppy," Aegon mused. He was used to that particular draught. "But thank the gods all of you…"
His cousin stopped him. "Egg… Nymella's still in Sunspear."
"What?!" His eyes widened, heart beating out of his chest. In that instant, he knew what he had to do. "Stay here, Ari. Smoke, come!" The direwolf barked at his master's command.
"No! It's suicide in there!" Ari tried to grab his arm, but Aegon was already off, running to the flames as fast as his legs could carry him.
Time truly slowed for him, the passage of the seconds and minutes turning into nonsensical irrelevancies apart from judging how long it would take for his legs to carry him between point A and point B. Aegon cared little, forcing his way through throngs of fleeing smallfolk whom either didn't know or didn't care of his royal blood. They fled for their lives, and he didn't blame them. Sunspear town itself was consumed in an orgy of blood and violence. Buildings were ransacked and lit aflame, some brave souls trying desperately to put out the fires.
Aegon might've joined them, but out of the smoke came the pirates themselves. He recognized their outfits. Ironborn! Not ordinary though, these were different. Heavier armor, exotically touched as if they had spent time in Essos.
Euron Greyjoy! He didn't even have to wait for them to start killing the men and tearing at the dresses of the women - and girls - before Fyrefist was in his hands and he charged. Keeping low in a running crouch and presenting as little a target for the Ironborn pirates.
It proved a wise decision when they noticed him, a crossbowman in dark leather armor raising his contraption - lacquered in the style of Yi Ti - and loosed a bolt. It wooshed above him, tugging at a strand of Aegon's hair. Had he been standing it would've taken a chunk off of his head.
Reflecting on the blessings of the gods for but a moment, Aegon did not give him the chance to reload. Closing the distance, he planted his heel onto a charred cobblestone and vaulted at the crossbowman - putting an end to the fight with one savage thrust from Fyrefist before forming upright and challenging anyone to come at him.
It wouldn't take long for the Ironborn to accept.
Four men, all taller and older than him, grizzled veterans. In the split-second before they attacked, Aegon studied them with a clear mind as his kepa taught him. They hefted axes or maces, good for close quarter ship combat but not particularly wieldy. Even a young warrior such as he would be advantaged… if he could put what Rhaegar, Arthur, and Oberyn taught him to good use. Aegon took a deep breath and readied his blade.
The first attacker quickly closed the distance, axe raised to cleave Aegon's head in two. Darting aside with footwork that would put a professional dancer to shame, he put Fyrefist through his opponent's back with a snarl. Feeling blood gush all over his face and unarmored riding leather.
That he was unarmored registered to him in that moment… he would need to be careful.
Kicking the limp pirate off his sword, Aegon turned only to barely parry a bash from a mace, just inches away from squashing his face in. "What is dead may never die!" shouted the Ironborn wielding it, swinging at him again. Shorter and still a youth - using that to his advantage - Aegon ducked under the blow and countered with a swing of his own. The Ironborn's savage smile changed into a moment of panic before his head was lopped off, falling to the ground.
Aegon kicked it into the flaming building, wiping the blood matting his hair to his forehead. It merely smeared further - damned, a terrifying sight indeed.
Another charged at him with his axe but Smoke erupted, jaws enclosing around the Ironborn's neck and clamping down, screams of terror being choked by blood and wheezing air from severed arteries and the trachea respectively as he went to the ground. Aegon grinned mercilessly, but then his head whipped back when the fourth Ironborn tackled him from behind and brought him down into the ash-carpeted ground, Fyrefist slipping from his grasp.
"For Crow's Eye," hissed his attacker, punching between his shoulderblades. Squirming in the ash, Aegon fought back a cry of pain as he lashed behind him with his elbows. Praying he'd land a blow on something vital... A grunt and gush of warm blood belied a bash in the nose, and it earned some room for the Prince.
A buck of the hips sent the Ironborn off his back and Aegon rolled over. His hand reached out and grabbed Fyrefist's hilt just as the man righted himself. Eyes alight with fury and face a mess of blood.
"The Iron Price for you." Axe in hand, he brought it up to bear down on Aegon…
Only for the Prince to leap to his feet and drive the Valyrian steel blade through the pirate's mouth. "Here's your iron." The words came out almost unbidden, and he didn't notice until the pumping of his heart began to wear off and the limp corpse fell to the ground. The quip wrote itself, better than the embarrassing mummer's farces in which such were commonplace.
Smoke trotted up to him. Coagulated blood coated his muzzle, but the wolf whimpered and licked Egg's hand. Egg ruffled his fur, only to look back at Sunspear keep, another barrage hitting it.
"Come on boy." His legs pumped again.
Nymella needed him.
Sweat sizzling atop his forehead, Prince Oberyn Martell grabbed a fleeing servant by the scruff of his neck. "Get a bucket!" he shouted, pointing to dozens gathered around a large fountain. "Put out the fires!"
"Yes, my Prince!"
"Run away and I'll impale you up the arse!" Hopefully that scared the little shit… though his thoughts were dashed as he heard the faint whistling even over the roar of the far-off flames. "Incoming!"
In an instant dozens of whistling arrows arced over the parapet of Sunspear keep, smacking into the stone floor as if hail upon a tin roof, little crinkles both unassuming and demonic in nature. Screams of the newly wounded filled Oberyn's ears even as he grabbed the nearest innocent - a girl - and covered her with his body. An arrow grazed him, skin stinging in agony but the Prince gritted his teeth and squeezed the shaft of his spear.
He'd been in worse scrapes than this and come out on top.
Finally the whistling stopped and he rose, only to find the girl he had grabbed… "Lya!"
His young daughter, normally so filled with the same ferociousness as her elder siblings and namesake, was now a trembling mess. "Father… who's attacking us," she stammered
"Easy, Lyanna… we'll know soon enough." He spotted Aero Hoteh, racing through the hallways alongside several important court dignitaries. "Hoteh!"
The head of the Household Guard stopped and bowed shallowly. "My Prince."
"Get my daughter to where my brother is barricaded. Is my family there?"
"All but the Princess Arianne - she was escorted to safety elsewhere. Prince Trystane was flying with your nephew, your Grace."
With luck, Aegon and Trystane were off in Planky Town or the surrounding mountains, waiting this out. He opened his mouth to say something more when a loud crash seemed to shake the entire keep, a grateful clamor behind heralding an entire section of the wall collapsing in shrouds of smoke and flame. "Go! Go!"
"Father!" Oberyn heard Elia scream behind him, but booked it for the damaged wall.
"Dornishmen, with me!" Already through the smoke the first - Ironborn? - were emerging. "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken!"
"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken!"
Spear in hand, Oberyn thrust into the gut of a pirate just as he emerged from the smoke. The tip, the best castle-forged steel Sunspear could produce, easily cleaved through the chainmail and sent the man sprawling in a gush of blood. Another snarled, swiping at Oberyn with a large axe. He darted back, batting aside several lunges with his spear before twirling. Flanking his attacker and stabbing underneath his helm and into his neck.
A grunt to his side found another Ironborn cleaved in two, Brienne of Tarth heaving out a breath. "They're hemming us in!" she shouted before charging back into the fray.
Oberyn's eyes widened. Sure enough, the Ironborn had used a shield wall to wedge the defenders to one side, allowing a gap in which more reavers could stream in and reach the keep. "To the right! Push right!" he demanded, dagger out and hacking away at a reaver's shoulder. But the shield wall had shifted, advancing further.
"Martell!" A frightful cackle drew Oberyn's attention as someone emerged from the smoke. His armor bore a red Kraken, golden eye adorning the body of the great sea monster as he hefted a bastard sword of… Valyrian steel? "Time to bid you farewell, old friend," the man chuckled underneath his helm.
There was only one that this could be. "Euron Greyjoy!" At last it all made sense.
As Euron made it to the top of the battlements Oberyn lunged at him. Spear aimed straight for his breastplate and the black heart beneath. To no avail, as the speartip slid off. "Valyrian steel too, my friend!" Euron hacked at him, but Oberyn danced out of range. "None can challenge me!"
"Odd." He jinked back, twirling his spear above his head before using the momentum to bat away another chop from Euron. The Ironborn, face covered by a thick helm, was quite fast for one of those but Oberyn was quicker. He lunged, lashing out with his foot and kicking Euron in the chest. Forcing him back. "You were defeated by a five nameday old girl." A feint led to a quick slash, finding a weak point in the armor. Blood pooled from Euron's shoulder. "What does that make you?"
Euron bellowed and charged, darting in a zigzag and proving an elusive foe for Oberyn. "You talk as if she won!" A fist slammed into Oberyn's jaw, knocking him back. "She did not! I still live!"
Oberyn laughed, spitting out blood as he countered, thrusting at Euron - making him jink. "Your one eye says differently."
"I will have her!" Euron's yell was punctuated with a malevolent laugh. A cackle betraying a mind not all there - gods only knew what he had been up to in exile. "That whore will be my salt wife! Bear me a dozen children as I rape her nightly!" He swung hard, Oberyn only just managing to leap back. "Mayhaps she'll grow to love it!"
"Never!" Out of the haze emerged another, sword glinting in the light of the fires licking into Sunspear itself as it swung at Euron. Clashing Valyrian steel against Valyrian steel.
"Nephew!" Oberyn recognized Fyrefist before he did the silver-hair. "Watch yourself!" He pressed into the attack alongside Aegon, the two of them forcing Euron to retreat to the fallen wall.
Underneath the helm, Euron was certainly leering. "Fall back, men!" he bellowed. "Death is life!"
"Death is life!" they chanted the sinister words of Euron Greyjoy, only for something far deadlier to emerge out of the smoke. Ceramic pots, flaming wicks emerging from them, sailing out and shattering upon the floor. Unleashing torrents of flaming pitch everywhere. Euron disappearing into the clouds of smoke kicked up by this new threat.
"Pull back! Away from the walls!" Oberyn yelled, but not before one of the pots hit Aegon, shattering into a thousand pieces and covering its deadly payload all over his nephew…
Oberyn's breath caught as Aegon emerged from this. Not burning, much like his brother and father and aunt. Snarling a death shout at the Ironborn before noticing the shield wall still protecting reavers running into the keep. He roared, charging right at them.
"Nephew!" Oberyn made to go after him, but the Ironborn reavers blocked his path - forcing him to engage them as Aegon battered his way through. A flaming torchlight punching and hacking, Fyrefist just as alight as he.
Gods, it was magnificent in a way.
"Stay inside! Lock your doors!"
It had been time interminable since Nymella Toland was ordered that by the Martell guards sashing to and fro through the hallways. She could see Sunspear town being immolated outside her window and the bath she had drawn herself was long forgotten. This was exactly as her home, attacked by the Ironborn pirates, only now they were so bold as to assault the seat of the Prince of Dorne.
Who are these monsters?
The smell of smoke grew closer, and now screams echoed through the door. Shrill screams of a woman.
They were unbearable to Nymella, and she slowly opened the door…
A serving girl was prone on the floor, dress hiked up as she was brutalized by a dark-bearded Ironborn reaver. Two others watched the deed, until one met Nymella's eyes. "Another one!"
She shut the door with a gasp, only for it to be kicked in by a reaver. "Goin' somewhere, girly?" he grinned, shoving her to the ground and straddlin' her waist. "Oi', we're gonna have a lot of fun."
"Get off me!" she screeched, fingers lashing out regardless of how her expensive dress frayed. Eyes blazing, they glowed with a sadistic satisfaction as her nails made contact with her assailant's face. Screaming, she gouged four streaks of red blood along the forehead, cheek, and chin.
The pirate bellowed in pain, only for the satisfying sight to disappear as his fist slammed into Nymella's face. Her eye exploded in agony, head spinning as he ripped her arms off him and pinned her with one hand. As much as she squirmed, dazed from the blow, it was of no use for the willowy beauty against a hulking reaver. She was no Queen Lyanna or Ser Brienne.
"I'm gonna fuckin' rip your cunt and arse apart for that!" He snarled, further flaying at her dress. The silky material gave way easily with an audible rip.
"Save some of her for mi'cock." The second ran his hand through his copper-colored hair, leering. "Gonna spill all over her tits." Nymella whimpered, her life rapidly becoming the worst of all nightmares.
"Just hurry it up!" Shouted the lookout.
The one stop her ripped off her smallclothes, grunting like a pig as he sniffed them. "Can't rush perfection."
Nymella closed her eyes for a moment, imagining her protector just as a slap left her face shooting in agony.
"Look at your god, whore!"
There was only one she wanted. Aegon! Help me!
"Hurry the fuck up!" The lookout peeked inside the chambers. "I want my turn at her mouth and if you fuckin'…" His obscene train of thought was cut off in a gasping gurgle. Nymella saw it as if it played out in slow motion, her eyes fixed to the scene through the crook of her assailant's arm. A flash of yellow-orange flame swung down, decapitating the Ironborn's head in two and crushing the skull. Leaving it sizzling before the corpse collapsed.
"The fuck?!" shouted the second man, grabbing his short sword just as what was akin to a demon burst into Nymella's chambers. Red-orange flame covered his entire body, from head to toe, and yet he did not scream. His body still upright, violet eyes blazing fire and blood.
Violet eyes.
Aegon. Nymella recognized him immediately.
The Ironborn let out a scream and charged him, only for Aegon to lash out with a punch to the jaw. Another scream came, this one shrill as flames licked up his beard, giving the enraged Prince the chance to swing. Intestines spilled out onto the floor, one hand clutching them while the other tried desperately to mat his beard.
Fyrefist literally aflame, Aegon drove it through the pirate's neck.
Head still spinning from the blows, Nymella didn't register the pressure abating until the rapist was off her. The Dornish beauty immediately scrambled back, desperate to put distance between herself and him. Praying for Aegon to be victorious. "Some sort of monster!" the Ironborn hissed. "May the Drowned God take you and I be his instrument."
"Burn!" was all Aegon shouted, charging forward. "Fire and blood for you!" Swords clashed, sparks shooting everywhere as the entire chambers were illuminated by the fire consuming the city outside and the veritable torch that Aegon was. Nymella searched in vain for something to help him with, but found nothing. Instead growing entranced by how he fought. This was not like his sparring.
Fists flying, swordplay akin to a no-holds barred brawl than a proper melee, this was nothing she'd ever seen before. The Ironborn lashed out with a dagger but Aegon grabbed the man's arm. Flame searing his skin as if pork. He howled in pain, even moreso when Aegon literally bit down and tore away his finger, causing him to drop the dagger.
His voice was a draconic roar. "You'll die for what you did to her!" Nymella couldn't move as Aegon drove his sword through the man's gut and knocked him over, but the Prince wasn't done. He fell atop him, the fire seeming to spread more onto his hands as he pressed them into the man's face. "Burn! Burn!" The chambers echoed with the Ironborn screams as his head was cooked alive…
Until finally they stopped. The chambers quiet with nothing but her breathing and the crackle of the flames about his body.
She stared at him, half in wonder and the rest a mere trembling at how terrifying the scene was. But Nymella's reverie was broken when he spoke, his tone completely different from the monster that preceded. "Water… water, Nymella…"
Nymella blinked. "Oh…" She leapt to her feet, pointing to her bathchamber. "I drew a bath…" She needed not say more, Aegon rushing over to the tub and diving in. A powerful cloud of steam and smoke followed as his skin, sizzled at the contact with the now chilled water.
Only then did Nymella notice her dress barely held, tatters threatening to collapse upon the floor and leave her bare to the world. She reached for the sheets of her bed, tugging them…
"Are you alright, my Lady?"
His words made her turn, facing Aegon. He had grabbed some linens to cover what was a nude body, covered in greasy soot matted to his body from the dripping water of the tub. He was filthy, but that wasn't what Nymella suddenly realized. He saved me. Unburnt, like his father and grandmother when they hatched their dragons. Like his brother and aunt, an awe inspiring sight… His actions were that of a brutal monster, but they were to save her.
He did it all for her, to protect her, and he did. Her children wouldn't be orphans and her corpse not defiled by the Ironborn pirates.
Tears pricked Nymella's eyes as she forgot the sheets. Forgot her own immodesty. "My savior," she murmured, running into his arms. Hugging around his waist and crying into his warm, wet skin. Gentle steps tapped along the stone floor but Nymella did not budge. Not leaving Aegon's arms. Something furry wrapped around their sides, Aegon's direwolf Smoke. Dried blood matted his fur, but he whimpered and licked her leg. All was safe.
When she felt Aegon encircle her with his arms, it was the best feeling in the world.
Rhaenys didn't realize how much she missed being crushed in the sweet embrace of her grandmother - always a stalwart presence of strength and Valyrian power in her childhood - until the Princess had been reunited with the feeling upon returning to Castle Black. "Grandmother… I missed you."
Rhaella Targaryen pressed kiss after kiss upon her forehead. "Oh, Rhaenys. Sweetling, thank Tessarion you are back and unharmed." Mashing her cheek against her dark hair - the Dowager Queen half a head shorter than Rhae, but the Princess having leaned down for the embrace - Rhaella kissed the crown of Rhaenys' head. "Oft I had nightmares of the demons of the Land of Always Winter ensuring your death with its evil beings."
"Wasn't for lack of trying on their part," Rhaenys snorted… only to hug her close. Only now that she was safe did the true weight of her ordeal seem to crash upon her. How close she came to death, both at the hands of the wildlings, Rast, and the beasts. Undead beasts if Leaf was to be believed. "Oh gods, I hope I didn't cause too much agony to all of you."
"We worried, sweetling," her grandmother replied, drawing back to cup her cheeks. "But I sent a raven to King's Landing and a rider to your uncles at Eastwatch. They will rejoice to hear you alive after the treachery of the wildlings." Guiding Rhaenys to a pair of chairs, they sat across from each other. "It was your uncle Benjen that spoke of a redhaired wildling spearwife that must've took you captive. Was she the one who came with you?"
Biting her lip, Rhaenys nodded. In the chaos of arriving in Castle Black and the rush of her great dragon - Nymerion practically coating her in spit with frantic licks just before Rhaella could monopolize her time - she had been separated from Ygritte. Even with the joy of being with her grandmother, Rhae missed her terribly. "About her…"
"The Black Brothers wanted to kill her and send her head to the Wildling Queen." At that, Rhaenys gasped in horror. "But Jaime figured she brought you back for some reward."
"Where is she?" Rhae asked with a bit of fear.
Fear that Rhaella didn't seem to ignore, brow rising. "She's being held in the cells for now, till your uncle comes to make a final judgment…"
"No, you can't!" Rhaenys begged, taking her grandmother's hands. "Ygritte is not the enemy, she saved me!" From the expression on Rhaella's face, her grandmother wasn't going to react in any manner so Rhaenys sighed and composed herself as best she could. The Princess couldn't take the worry and fear for her lover out of her expression, but she could calmly relay the story.
By the end of it - she had left out the salacious parts of their relationship and the matter of the child of the forest to be discussed at a later time - Rhaella's stare was quite… emotionless. Rhaenys waited for her to say something, and didn't have to wait long. "You were attacked by a Black Brother, then?"
"Aye, Rast. A new recruit and a convicted rapist. He was eying me since I arrived at Castle Black."
"It is too suspicious to be mere coincidence, granddaughter. A wildling breaking free from her bonds is likely opportunity, but this…" She shook her head. "I will have to think more on this, but more to the point you are sure this girl bears no ill will to you?"
"On my life, grandmother, I swear it."
Rhaella's brow rose. "And this has nothing to do with you having taken her on as a lover?"
"Grandmother…" Rhaenys blushed, knowing there was no denying it. "How did you know?"
To this Rhaella smirked, the first sign of amusement on her expression - Rhaenys girded herself to take what would come, embarrassment and all. "Do you take me for a fool, granddaughter? That expression you had when looking at her is the same one your muna gives to her she-wolf of the North." She chuckled. "While you fancy yourself as a dragonriding warrior Princess, there is a bit of that coquettish Dornish lady in you. Drawn to wild warriors yourself."
Gulping, Rhaenys couldn't deny it. "You're right, grandmother."
"How long has this been going on?"
"Since she helped me escape from Queen Val's men. We… we had to hide out from their patrols and search parties in a cave, and well…"
"That's where the magic happened."
She flushed, but more from the memories as she smiled. "Aye." Rhaenys took a moment before meeting the twinkling indigo of Rhaella's eyes. "Please free her… I beg you, she is absolutely loyal to me, I assure you."
"If she risked death to save you, then I don't doubt that." Rhaella sighed. "Jaime!" she called out.
"Your Grace?" He poked his head in.
"Free Lady Ygritte from her cell and bring her to me." The command made Rhaenys' heart soar as she beamed at her grandmother, Jaime nodding and walking briskly to carry out the order. "Now that I freed her, what does she mean to you?"
Rhaenys didn't delay a moment. "I love her, grandmother."
Rhaella's smile fell to a… ghost of a frown. "That's what I assume you had with Torrhen Karstark, or at least that's what he says."
The Princess winced. "I… I don't love him. I was fond of him, but…"
"He's madly in love with you. Whether it's actual love or obsession is too early to say, but I'd rather not have a repeat of your muna and Lord Robert." Rhaella's voice was firm. "It has to be ended, Rhaenys. Jaime told me that you were supposed to but clearly you didn't."
It was not wise to defy a Rhaella Targaryen scolding. "I will find a way to let him down gently."
"If it would help, I would convey that his Grace is considering marriage alliances with you and Torrhen was considered and declined - it might be helpful for him to move on knowing that politics and not the fact that you replaced him with a wildling, a female wildling at that, ended his chances."
"Torrhen Karstark was never going to be my illicit love, grandmother… I simply enjoyed his company."
"You're a Targaryen. Our house cannot afford that, especially its daughters - that is the price we pay for the greater freedom we hold in other matters." Rhaenys understood. "And that brings me to something else. This relationship can never last long term."
Rhaenys frowned. "By my dragon's fire, anyone that would take her from me…"
"Enough." The word was soft, but it had the effect of the loudest bellow. "What I mean is that you are still a princess and no one would recognize the affection of two women on its own accord." Rhaenys opened her mouth to counter… but found her grandmother right. "You will have to marry eventually."
She sighed. "I know."
"But I also know that you will not give up your lover if these feelings you hold are truly that of the dragon having found her mate." Rhaella leaned back. "You will need to either find a husband who is content with having his own lovers and you yours - perhaps a sword swallower." Rhaenys blushed at her grandmother's unabashed manner of speak. "Or someone that would eagerly share you with Lady Ygritte, even one who you would share her with."
Another blush. "I don't think her heart would be easy to win - it was hard for me to do so." Even if the thought of having a marriage like her parents with some unknown man was… not undesirable in her mind. At least to the right one. "But if that's what it takes for me to be with her, then so be it." Rhaella smiled and opened her arms, to which Rhaenys embraced her once again.
A knock on the door made Rhaenys pull back, her heart pounding knowing what was to come. "Your Grace, she is here." Jaime's expression was… almost trying to be as formal as possible.
Rhaenys wanted to chuckle at it, while Rhaella actually did. "Let her in, Jaime. I think my granddaughter would keel over if I made her wait any longer."
Again did Jaime comply, revealing Ygritte. She was rumpled and a bit dirty, but in one piece and just as beautiful as before. "Ygritte!" Soon the redhead was enveloped in a crushing embrace, Rhaenys bringing them flush together.
In spite of her likely being quite suspicious, Rhaenys was delighted that her embrace was so desired that Ygritte simply melted. Hugging her back with her face falling into her neck. "Hello, Princess." Her voice was quiet. "Missed you."
"Missed you too." Rhae pulled back and kissed her cheek. "How were the cells?"
"Eye-opening… never want to be there again."
"You never will." Rhaenys kissed her, which surprised Ygritte as she stiffened… but immediately softened and kissed back.
"That depends." Rhaenys pulled back, turning to face her grandmother that stood. "I remember you - you were restraining my granddaughter for the last parlay."
Ygritte didn't back down even in the face of a dragonrider - one she wasn't fucking, that is. "Was either that or some sweaty thug that would've been feelin' her up… unwanted feelin' up." Aye, Ygritte felt her up many times, all of them quite deserted by Rhaenys. "Never would hurt her."
"From what she says, you saved her even when she was her enemy." Rhaella crossed her arms. "Why?"
A shrug. "Suppose I knew she was the one for me from even then." Rhaenys' heart melted and she weaved their fingers together. "That bother you… your Grace?"
"I am not one to judge, given the sorts of relationships my house has pursued over the centuries… what I do wonder is if you are only using my granddaughter for your own gain."
Ygritte looked to Rhaenys, then back to Rhaella. "Only want her… think it'd help me to turn against Val? Last one who did that got himself eaten by Thenns at her orders."
"I don't think you'd turn against her in that manner… but a mercenary attitude is not one I would allow close to my house." She tapped her foot on the floorboards. "Now, if you knelt to House Targaryen and swore yourself as a sworn sword, then I would be more inclined to believe you."
"I'm not kneelin' to you, dragonrider." Her expression was hard, and Rhaenys bit her lip.
Rhaella wasn't fazed. "I don't expect you to, nor will ask. You've already knelt before my granddaughter plenty of times, I believe."
It took a moment for Rhaenys to grasp the meaning of what her grandmother said, but when she did… Ygritte's jaw went slack, while Rhaenys blushed as brightly as a ripe tomato. "Grandmother…" By the gods, she wished to melt into the floor at that moment.
"Are you denying it?" Aye, she was enjoying this.
Ygritte, gulping, shook her head. "If she said we are lovers, then it's true… that's all I'll say."
"Hmmm…" Rhaella walked around Ygritte, as if inspecting her. Rhaenys' heart pounded out of her chest the whole time until her grandmother spoke. "You will need many more than just I to win over if you wish to stay with Rhaenys. Swearing to be her sworn sword would help greatly in that regard - it doesn't matter which gods." With that, Rhaella left the chamber.
There was a silence. "So… I'm not getting beheaded?" Ygritte asked.
Rhaenys shook her head, wrapping her arms around Ygritte's waist. "Seems not."
"Why'd she leave?"
"To give us alone time, it seems… now kiss me." Ygritte was eager to obey.