Chapter 39: The Dornishman's Wife

It was as if she was invisible.

Don't get anyone wrong, Shienna Aekylosh had no issue with it. Seated in one of the long tables placed within the great hall of the Red Keep, Iron Throne towering over all in the distance, she enjoyed her last moment of relative obscurity. Lords and Ladies of the great Andal houses of Westeros - alongside those of the North and Dorne that both Queens welcomed with open arms as representatives of their homelands - regarded her not at all… or at least with only polite acknowledgement.

Her house's sigil of a dancing fire dragon embroidered into her green gown didn't turn heads. Mayhaps some sorceress Lady Melisandre acquired from Essos, or a landed lady from Dragonstone? None cared much, to which Shienna suppressed chuckles. They would soon care enough.

Till then, she would enjoy being a wallflower in the midst of neo-Valyrian greatness. To be in the Red Keep itself… amazing. Baelon and Daenerys would be in her prayers tonight.

I am glad Althor and Baelgora are not present. Better they enjoy time with their new friends within the royal family, to which accepted them with open arms, rather than be poked and prodded by the highborns to whom would suck up to her once the proclamation came.

Everyone rose as the heralds blared through their horns. Lord Commander Barristan Selmy and Ser Oswell Whent leading the three royals into the Great Hall. Shienna took in their outfits, which radiated strength and prosperity. The Queens wore long, form-fitting gowns in a modest Dornish style, Elia's a mix of black and gold while Lyanna's was white and red. King Rhaegar sported a doublet and trousers in black and red - unarmored but still bearing Blackfyre at his side. They looked magnificent.

Shienna wished Baelgor was here to see this.

"All hail Rhaegar of House Targaryen," spoke Lord Hand Tywin Lannister. "First of his Name. Elia of House Targaryen, Lyanna of House Targaryen. King and Queens of the Seven Kingdoms and Protectors of the Realm…" His voice faltered when his eyes, sweeping the crowd till then, fell on her. Meeting hers. His widened, and an imperceptible pause overtook him. Noticed by none but Shienna, who blinked at the attention. Tywin recovered quickly though. "Long may they reign."

"Long may they reign!" At a gesture from the King, they all sat, Shienna folding her hands and placing them on her lap.

A ruler needed to be circumspect, and in such Shienna expected a regal, stony-faced trio seated upon the dias. But while they bore a regal expression, King Rhaegar, Queen Elia, and Queen Lyanna radiated joy. Their proud smiles sparkled, and their bearing was powerful in the manner of only the happy.

Her assumption was confirmed as Rhaegar spoke, whatever hushed comments that bubbled up ceasing as before. "Subjects, Lord and Ladies, I gather you here for this feast for the most glorious of news." He clapped his hands, silver hair let down and glittering in the firelight of two hundred candles. "My daughter Rhaenys, engaged in fighting the wildling barbarians north of the Wall, has returned safely from her ranging mission having seen her and my goodbrother Lord Ned Stark crush the gathering armies of Mance Rayder."

"Glory be to House Targaryen!" Queen Lyanna proclaimed, herself standing and drawing her Valyrian steel sword, cutting a martial profile even while wearing a feminine dress that hugged her deliciously slim figure.

"Long may they reign!" boomed the gathered guests, Shienna among them. Fitting in as much as possible. Thank Vermithor Princess Rhaenys is safe. Daenerys spoke highly of her, the eldest of the restored generation of dragonriders. It was heartening, to see the royals she had grown to admire and like on a personal level be so relieved… though what they said to court didn't sound like all the truth.

Elia stood at that moment, eyes locking with hers and bidding her forward. An invitation that Shienna accepted and strode forward to the center of the rows of tables. Finally eyes began to drift her way. A drift that became a flood as she walked towards the Iron Throne. "Another glorious development is upon us, subjects. Out of Essos emerges another link to the glories of Old Valyria. A noble house, House Aeklyosh of Valyria, survived by Lady Shienna presented before us."

Taking a deep breath, Shienna did as the royal family had discussed - Queen Lyanna quite insistent. She lowered herself to her knees. "I swear allegiance to you, my King and Queens. Now and in forever on behalf of me and House Aekylosh."

King Rhaegar cleared his throat, as kindly and regal privately as he was before the royal court. "Rise Lady Shienna." And thus it was done. House Aekylosh was now a sworn bannerman of the Targaryen royal family bound to the Valyrian legacy for the first time in centuries.

She couldn't help but smile.

To say that Shienna was not the center of attention from that point on was an understatement. Everyone that had ignored her from the start now crowded around the newest Valyrian house, ultimately the most powerful one in terms of blood apart from House Targaryen itself. She conversed with Lady Melissa Tyrell and her husband Lord Garlan, laughed at the japes of Tyrion Lannister and his companion Nymeria Sand, and shared the dances of Lord Monford Velaryon, Roland Crakehall, and the quite intriguing Bronn Bell. Prince Viserys Targaryen was polite, albeit quite dismissive of his wife Princess Talisa - Talisa was drunk already and did not acquit herself well, though Shienna felt that the fault didn't just rest with her in their clearly dysfunctional marriage.

An hour or two later, she found herself standing next to Queen Lyanna enjoying a glass of wine to calm her aching feet. "No chance I will ever be ignored again," she said to the She-Wolf of House Targaryen.

"Believe me, I know the feeling," laughed the Queen. Ever beautiful was she, but he sword at her hip and her powerful demeanor belied someone no one wished to trifle with. "House Stark is well-regarded in the North, but no one south of the Neck truly cares… until Rhaegar married me." She cast a look of love to the Iron Throne. King Rhaegar, conversing with Lord Tywin, met the gaze and his smile was radiant. "I feel it a welcome change, since I am married to my loves."

"Indeed. I would endure the attention for the safety and prosperity of my children."

"The father is not in the picture, I assume?" Shienna looked down at her feet, to which Lyanna sighed. "Forgive me - I didn't believe you at first about your origins, at least until Elia showed me your… skills."

Shienna smiled. "Do not worry, the art of fire magic is long lost for all but my house. I understand." She leaned back, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders. "Best if I don't showcase it yet… would rather keep the mystery alive for as long as possible, or else the damned courting nobles would swarm even more."

Lyanna raised a brow. "Ever consider taking up one of their offers?"

"These?" Shienna shook her head. "I doubt any of them could ever compare to my lost love…"

"Excuse me, Lady Shienna?" She turned, only for her eyes to widen as none other than Lord Tywin Lannister stood before her, extending his hand. "A dance, if you would be so kind?" Shienna looked at Lyanna, who looked quite surprised as well. In the end, she nodded dumbly.

All of court seemed to watch her - Tyrion Lannister stared at his father's dance with her with blatant shock, and most of the expressions were akin to it or only slightly muted. As the minstrels played joyously, Tywin didn't give off any indication that he didn't do this often. "You dance well, my Lord."

"Thank you," he replied, stern but… polite. Shienna realized such was the best he could give off, given his reputation. "You as well."

"I am better at the Valyrian dances, but kessa. Easy enough to pick up."

Twirling her, soon Tywin's hand was back on her waist. "Prince Baelon found you?"

A nod. "Princess Daenerys, rather, but I met Prince Baelon… Lady Sansa as well."

"Ah, my granddaughter in all but blood. A good girl - my daughter loves her as if she were her own." Tywin shrugged as he continued dancing. "It is as well as I could hope, I suppose."

Her brow rose. "Is blood all that matters to you?"

He looked into her eyes. "A family legacy is what you leave behind you, not wealth or reputation. Those only last till death, I learned that with my father."

"Tytos Lannister was quite mocked, I gather."

"Yes, but it didn't last, as you can see."

Shienna let herself be twirled yet again, enjoying the dance, and Tywin's skill. "A sad manner to go through life, I suppose. Why live if you aren't happy?"

"There's more to life than happiness, Lady Shienna… though I may boldly say I am happy at the moment." Tywin looked her over, suddenly smiling softly. "A fire maege it is not often that I run into someone that truly surprises me."

The last of the great fire maeges - though her own children and perhaps Princess Daenerys would continue the art long after her - Shienna could've sworn that she saw a sparkle of… appreciation in the green eyes of the Lord of Casterly Rock. And it was not unwanted, either.

Perhaps that was the most shocking part.

"My nephew." Standing even though it caused him agony, Doran clasped Aegon's shoulders with a proud smile planted on his face. "You are truly the greatest of our House since the arrival of Nymeria to our shores."

That Aegon was a Targaryen and not a Martell was something he had mind to say, but refrained. Instead, he offered a small smile. "I'd like to think I have some of her spirit in my soul."

Doran laughed, clapping his arm and looking at Oberyn and Arianne. "Modest, he is. That does not come from Nymeria's blood."

Oberyn smirked. "Whatever self-aggrandizement Elia passed on was taken up by his sisters, I do believe… not to mention…" A surreptitious gesturing to Arianne didn't turn out to be so, as his cousin only grinned wider.

Outside, the soft flow of the waterways coursing through the Water Gardens was a pleasant sound. Calming, especially after the events of earlier in the week. What a fucking waste. If only the court had stayed here than heading for Sunspear right into Euron's jaws… Aegon shook his head. "Forgive me, uncle - your words hearten me, but I do not feel like this merits celebration."

The smiles left the faces of Oberyn and Arianne, while his uncle Doran didn't relent. "Please, my boy. Years ago you were widely ridiculed as a weakling, and now you are nothing of the sort. 'Aegon Fyrefist' they call you, my own nephew!" He clapped his hands.

Aegon started to grow annoyed - the raid upon Sunspear had lasted a mere three hours, as fast as it was destructive. Half the town was burned and much of the defenses of the keep were left utterly destroyed by Euron Greyjoy's brutal tactics. "A thousand dead, uncle. Most women and children."

A sigh. "Regrettable."

"What is being done to find Euron?"

Oberyn cleared his throat. "Your parents in King's Landing have dispatched Stannis Baratheon and Aurane Waters to hunt him down with the Royal Fleet…"

"They'll take time to sail from Driftmark. Till then…"

"You need not worry about that, nephew." Doran kissed him on the cheek. "Rest on your laurels. Enjoy your reputation, I insist upon it." That was it on that matter.

Storming out, Aegon was quickly joined by Arianne. "Father isn't unsympathetic to the aftermath of the raid…"

"He just seems more interested in my newfound glory," Aegon spat back.

"He's always been one to try and find the positive in anything…"

Aegon sighed. "Forgive me, cousin." He allowed Arianne to hug him. "Lot on my mind."

"I know." She kissed his cheek. "Lady Nymella has been asking for you."

His eyes widened. "Truly?" While she had traveled to the Water Gardens, Egg hadn't seen her since the… immediate aftermath. Him wet and practically naked, covered in wet soot and ash, and her battered after an attempted rape. Mayhaps she was too ashamed, but here she was asking for him. "Do you know where?"

Ari smiled softly. "Follow me."

Nymella turned out to have just come out of a bath dressed in a light dress but with her red hair wet and matted to her forehead. She looked breathtaking, but rather young and innocent as well. "Aegon," she said, formally but with a little catch.

Aegon bowed, grateful that Arianne had given him privacy to speak alone with the Lady of Ghost Hill. "My Lady," he replied. "Are you alright?"

She smiled. "I am… thanks to you." Nymella walked to him and took his hand. "My savior."

"Oh, I wouldn't call myself that," he remarked, still modest.

His companion was having none of it. "Do not say that." She guided him to one of the plush couches that decorated her guest quarters. Keeping their hands clasped together. "You saved me from the ultimate indignity, all when you didn't have to. Of this, you are always my savior."

He blushed. "An honor then."

"No, the honor is mine for knowing you." She paused for a moment, and Aegon took the pause to look her over. Take in her beauty… he had grown up among fellow Targaryens, Valyrians with otherworldly looks - Nymella matched them in his opinion. She seemed to notice, and straightened her back. As if his gaze invigorated her. "You saving me, it made me rethink a lot of things. As well as being more certain of one aspect of our relationship."

Aegon raised a brow. "Which is?"

"Your feelings to me. I know they are genuine now - I am sure." Bringing his hand to her lips, Nymella kissed it, lips lingering as her eyes sparkled. "I have an answer to the question you offered me our last night at Ghost Hill."

Confused for a moment, suddenly Aegon realized. "My betrothal request."

"Yes."

"So…" His voice was but a murmur. "Your answer?"

Nymella clasped his hand with hers, smiling genuinely. The most beautiful smile in the world. "My answer is yes. As the head of House Toland and the woman in question, I accept your betrothal, Prince Aegon Targaryen." She kissed his hand again. "I love you."

He exhaled shakily, a tension greater than that of battle finally extracted from where it wedged within his soul and leaving something… calm in his place. "Oh, thank the gods," Egg breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, and I love you too." A grin suddenly took over his face, Aegon reaching out to cup her cheeks. Pressing his forehead against Nymella's. "Gods, I yearn to kiss you."

The Dornish beauty - even more exotic given her red hair and fairer skin - laughed and placed her hands over his. "Well, now you can, my Prince." Her eyes grew heavy, voice lower and sultry. "Please do so."

He raised his brows. "Oh, I will." Aegon leaned forward, their lips only a whisper apart. Enough to gaze into her eyes. "I will kiss you again and again, enough so that you will gasp for air." His heart thumped in his chest as her eyes grew darker.

It was Nymella that closed the tiny bit of distance. Melding their lips, tongues almost immediately plunging into each other in Dornish passion. No chaste peck, but something hot and hungry. Properly sealing their new reality into effect.

Her hands foster his tunic while his roamed her body at will, enjoying the newfound freedom to touch and caress his betrothed. Aegon gently but urgently pressed her down upon the couch, covering her body with his. "Stunning," he murmured. "A goddess…"

"Mmmm…" Her kisses increased in ardor, reacting to his words with passion rather than anger or awkwardness. But when he pulled away… "No…" she tugged at him.

Aegon sat up though, breathing heavy. "Forgive me, Nym," he said. "But… call me honorable but I think we should wait for our wedding night."

"I'm not a maiden anymore, Egg," she pouted, chest puffed out as she tried to catch her breath, testing his resolve.

He was made of stern stuff. "We will marry soon, I'm sure of it… I would like to know your heart more before I plunder your body." A small smile. "Now that we no longer have to worry about crossing boundaries or your hostility."

She giggled, batting her eyes as she shook her head. "You are one of a kind, my Prince." Nymella hugged him, kissing his cheek. "Alright, I'll let you preserve my honor…"

Suddenly though, Aegon felt Nymella palm his crotch. "Nym… Do not tempt me to ravish you."

"Why not?" She asked, her words innocent but tone anything but. "I will respect your decision, but still want to finally enjoy you," she whispered, nibbling on his ear lobe. "Let me, love."

Best that Aegon find out now that he could deny her nothing. "Kessa." With those words, Aegon pulled her on his lap, immersing himself in the certainty of his life.

Ale sloshing within the jug, Sandor Clegane drained a large swig in one gulp. Belch following such a deep swallow. "Drunk is drunk, but fuck this shit. Bitter as anything."

Rolling her eyes, Rhaenys snatched away the jug and drank her fill. Sighing at the warmth that burned down her gullet. "Not as good as the black ale of Winterfell."

"Both are shit."

"You drink it well enough you scarred fuck."

To that, Sandor snorted. "Drunk is drunk, Saucy Snake… doesn't mean it fuckin' tastes good."

Again did Rhaenys roll her eyes, though a small smirk played on her lips. Try as she might to deny it, she had missed the Hound's manner of blunt talk. Ygritte talked in a similar manner, but there were differences. Hers was teasing, while the Hound's were more like a smith's hammer slamming upon an anvil. Given the duplicity of King's Landing and the court in which she grew up, such bold candor was always appreciated.

"Will say… glad you came back in one piece, Saucy Snake."

That pet name was not something she missed though. "Oh?" Rhaenys giggled, intentionally sounding like the young girl she was. "Do I detect a heart among all that muscle and steel?"

Sandor grimaced. "By the Seven, fuck that shit." He grabbed the jug and took a swig. "Would rather," he said, tiny trickles of ale frothing on his mustache. "Just would rather not have Little Prince feed me to his fuckin' dragon for losing his fuckin' sister!"

Rhaenys laughed again. "Fair, completely fair." Normally she was the protector of her siblings - and aunts in the case of Dany and Cella - but Aegon or Jon were both fully capable of entering that role. "I could see him killing you for harm that came to me. Suppose you're lucky that way."

"Wouldn't ever call myself lucky," was his response.

Leaning against the stone wall of Castle Black, Rhaenys watched the goings on of the Night's Watch. Allowing herself the moment of calm. Uncle Ned hadn't yet arrived, nor did uncle Benjen, and by Tessarion she was looking forward to seeing them again. But seeing them meant seeing…

"So that Karstark boy is showing up." It was as if Sandor could read her mind. "Before the Starks."

"Aye." Uncle Ned's letter spoke of how overjoyed he was of her arrival, but matters of import at Eastwatch required his attention. However, Torrhen and his bannermen were arriving and it was something she was not looking forward to.

"Everyone said to fuckin' end it moons ago but you didn't, did you?"

"No." What else was there to say?

Sandor glanced down at her, scowling. He always scowled though. "Now yer' fuckin' the wildling girl."

She raised her brow. "How do you know that?"

"Pfft, you look at her with the same moony eyes Little Bird and the Silver Pest look at Little Prince. It's fuckin' obvious." Sandor shrugged. "Can't say I blame you though."

"Many thanks." Ygritte… she was a thing of classic beauty. It was her personality and demeanor that were untraditionally charming. "I want her to come with me to King's Landing, not Torrhen."

"To come in your castle?" His brow rose, making Rhaenys shake her head at the pun. "Aight, but let me give you some fuckin' advice…"

"You give me advice?" What could he possibly give that her grandmother and Jaime hadn't already drilled into her.

Another snort. "May not want a woman, but I grew up with a lustful cunt and work with lustful cunts… You tell a northman that he lost out to a wildling and a man that he lost out to a fuckin' woman… that's what blood feuds are made of. Yer' uncle can't handle another Northern house feuding with him, take it from me."

He handed her the jug, to which Rhaenys drank from after a moment's contemplation. Damned if it wasn't good advice - and made her even more apprehensive.

The party in which Torrhen traveled to Castle Black with arrived approximately two hours later. Rhaenys had retired to her chambers by then, passing the time by reading over dispatches provided by her grandmother over the issues of the Realm since her capture. The arrival of a new Valyrian house intrigued her, while fear combined with awe at the description of Aegon's first true battle in Dorne. Both of us earned our trial by fire, in your case literally. She chuckled at the thought.

Rhaella and Jaime were not ones she wanted to be present for this. Ygritte - definitely not, but Rhaenys would've enjoyed passing the time with her, decrease her stress and apprehension. But her love was hunting in the forests of the Gift, pulling her weight given the tension roiling off the northmen and black brothers at her presence. Therefore, she had been alone when Torrhen knocked upon her door and entered her chambers.

At once, the frantic expression on his face dissolved into relief at the sight of her. "Rhae, my love." His tough but comely beauty hadn't changed a bit.

She had only just risen from the bed when Torrhen embraced her tightly, pressing her face with kisses before settling in the crook of her neck. "Torrhen…"

"Thank the gods," he exclaimed. "I prayed before the heart tree near daily for you to be safe and come back unharmed. By their glory, you have." Before Rhaenys could respond he kissed her, lips melding to hers as his hands wandered.

In spite of herself Rhae moaned and kissed back, but when his hand splayed on her arse and tried to tug it up, she pushed him away. "Please, Torrhen… we need to speak on this."

Blinking, he peered at her until his eyes widened in understanding. She never claimed he was an idiot. "We cannot continue this?"

"I fear that we cannot," she replied, sitting upon the bed. "You are an honorable man, Ser Torrhen, and I am greatly fond of you… However, our love affair cannot continue. I will likely be called back to King's Landing…"

"And I can and am willing to join you as your sworn sword."

"Yes, you are," she replied, sighing. "But it cannot be. While I am in the North there was no concern with it," Rhaenys lied. "But in King's Landing there will be more scrutiny, and therefore we cannot continue."

Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Torrhen's face grew tight. A thousand different emotions seemingly crossing his face. Rhaenys stood from where she was sitting, approaching him. "Torrhen, please say something." She had strung him along for the great sex, and the guilt drove her to be more accommodating than was required of her. "I'm sorry that…"

"Is it your father? His Grace?"

She blinked. "My kepa?" Was it strange that part of her wanted him to commit treason so that it would be easier?

Such was part of the ruthless Martell side of her, and unlike most of the sultry passion and stubborn steadfastness… she immediately felt guilt.

Torrhen took her hands in his. "Has he betrothed you already?" She but her lip, sighing. "You are six and ten… good Queen Alysanne was married at your age, and her Grace Queen Lyanna was your age when she…"

She stopped him with a finger to his lips. "I assure you, I have not yet been betrothed to a man, nor have I begun a romance with one." Rhaenys tried not to blush… or snicker at the obvious. It wasn't a lie, after all. "But it has not been fair to you, Torrhen. What we were… I do care for you, but our love affair was just that."

"You are a Princess, and told me that you aren't keen on giving that up to be a Lady of a keep somewhere." He squeezed her hand. "I am of noble blood and am willing to abdicate the heirship of Karhold to my brother Ned for you."

Rhaenys took his hand in hers. "I cannot ask you to do that, Torrhen. Not after everything…" Tensions with Lord Karstark were already great after the death of his eldest son in the rebellion. Her reckless behavior had been inappropriate and she saw it now - ironically, sleeping with Ygritte wasn't as damaging since she wasn't connected to any court politics. "It would be best if we simply parted ways."

For the longest time he stared at her before speaking again. "My offer to be your sworn sword hasn't changed. I ask your leave to still be considered for it."

Perhaps it was cowardly, or mayhaps simply being tired of it all, but Rhaenys nodded. "You have my leave."

"Thank you, Rhaenys," Torrhen replied, kissing her hand before leaving.

Closing the door behind her, Rhaenys collapsed against it. Sighing and slowly inching to the floor from the sheer mental exhaustion. Mind whirring at a mile a minute as if she was riding Nymerion.

The screaming match she had worried about hadn't come to pass. Torrhen was… calm if desperate to stay close to her. Therein was the problem. He still desires to make me his wife. Rhaenys was not a fool nor naive to believe he didn't, but this wasn't someone she could afford to squash like a bug, nor was she heartless enough to want to.

Jaime was right, she shouldn't have led him on. Northmen - clear from her entire family - loved hard, just as they were forged to in all manners by their harsh clime. Rhaenys would be stuck with Torrhen up until he disengaged or her kepa got rid of him.

None of this would end well.

And such was where Ygritte found her, returning from her hunt. "Rhae?" she asked in that harsh brogue of hers, an acquired taste that Rhaenys had come to love. The Princess didn't say anything as she rose, instead simply embracing her woman and pressing her lips against Ygritte's.

The redhead didn't deny Rhae's passion, being led by the Targaryen inch by inch to the bed…

Feeling her heart beat out of her chest as the wheelhouse rolled through the entrance of the Water Gardens most favored by the Dornish royals, Nymella's eyes flickered back inside. To where her betrothed resided.

Betrothed.

The day where her father, not five days after her first moonblood, announced her first betrothal to one of the bannermen of nearby House Allyrion was not a good day. Only three and ten, she hadn't grasped the seriousness of what would transpire and reacted much as a child would - thinking it all a dream. It was no dream. Mayhaps her wedding night hadn't been brutal and the pain she experienced was normal for a young girl with her maidenhead still intact, but her then-husband clearly enjoyed her still maturing body more than the average man.

His affairs with equally young girls - or even younger - as she flowered into a woman belied such. Upon his death and with two heirs, her beautiful daughters, Nymella had vowed never to marry again.

Oh, how the gods played their games with her, and truly Nymella did not mind. Her new betrothed was a Targaryen Prince with Dornish blood in his veins, truly beautiful in all the ways that mattered. Young, but wise for his age and practically a man in looks. Just thinking of him… Nymella rubbed one leg against the other, hoping to scratch the itch growing in her cunt.

Aegon Targaryen had haunted her from the moment they met, insufferable and persistent. Looking back, she was grateful for that. Everything just fell into place, tension and stress giving way to a supreme, relaxing joy. His looks upon her red hair and slender waist made her smile, his touches made her shudder, and his kisses made her swoon.

It was magical, one she hoped she could share with her daughters now that they would have a stepfather worthy of the title.

But such was a secondary matter when the guards opened the wheelhouse door to reveal Valena and Teora, led by their maids. Not that the maids could stop them running when their eyes fell on Nymella. "Mama!"

Nymella rushed to them - the breezy Dornish dresses making running far easier than the more restrictive cuts of the Andal north. "My sweetlings." Valena reached her embrace first, then Teora. They were old enough so she didn't have to crouch. Nymella liked her dress, as did Aegon. "I missed you."

"I missed you, mama," Valena breathed, clutching tightly. She looked exactly like Nymella, red hair a shade darker but milky skin almost uncanny.

"Have fun on dwagon?" asked Teora, jumping giddily. She held the traditional salty Dornish features, albeit dark auburn hair closer to her mother.

Nymella chuckled. "I did. A wonderful time." She looked down to see Valena staring at her with soulful eyes - ones more akin to one of seven and ten than simply seven. Maester Toman must've told her something. She resolved to talk to her about it later, mayhaps that night, but Teora was too young to comprehend it and she wouldn't broach it in her presence. "How was the ride here?"

Her youngest groaned. "Boring…"

A chuckle. "I'll bet, and are you hungry?"

"No," Valena spoke, only for her stomach to loudly rumble. Her cheeks turned a bit red. "Alright, a little."

Running a hand through her hair affectionately, Nymella grabbed each by the hand as the guards covered her. "Let's find you something to nibble on in the kitchens. The food is lovely here, believe me."

While Valena spent the entire midday meal with a piercing stare, a haunted stare in the void of not knowing just what happened to her mother. Luckily for Nymella the hearty food and interminable wheelhouse ride put the girls out like a light. Just finishing tucking them into the cots her Martell hosts had placed in her bedchamber, Nymella knew she couldn't put off having to talk to Valena interminably. The girl was smart and stubborn, exactly like her.

She needed to speak with her man - perhaps he'd have some good advice for her. Walking down the corridors, balcony to her right opening up to the beauty of the Water Gardens, Nymella reflected on the fact she even had bedchambers to herself. I sleep in his already, even if we aren't intimate. Was it a mistake? No, and she didn't regret it.

The guards had been ordered to let her in and she passed between them, only to notice maids darting in and out of the bathchamber adjacent to his bed. "Egg?"

"He's in the tub, my lady," spoke Brienne of Tarth, watching the maids go to and fro. "His affliction has returned."

Nymella's eyes widened. "What affliction? Is he alright?" Worry crept through her.

"Just let her in, Brienne. I'll explain," he called out, to which Brienne nodded and bid her entry.

She hurried into the bathchamber and spotted him, his skin all red and covered in blisters. A gasp of both shock and pain left her lips. "By the gods..." Nymella rushed to him, batting aside the maid that was tending to her betrothed. "What is this?"

Aegon was hunched over, clenching his fists and teeth. "A side effect of the treatment that saved my life," he gritted out. "Grand Maester Qyburn cured me of the plague, but I'd have crippling joint pain and recurrent rashes for the rest of my life. Hadn't had a flare up this bad in ages." Egg breathed quickly, trying to submerge himself in the bathwater. "Was more frequent when I was a child, but exercise and strength managed to… by the Gods this is torture."

Seeing him in such pain - her powerful dragon Prince - Nymella wished to take his agony upon her own shoulders. "My poor dragon." She pulled his head to her lips, kissing his forehead and cheeks before pecking his lips, feeling his muscles relax. "Anything I can do?" She gestured to the maids to leave - whatever he said, Nymella vowed to take over his treatment as his soon to be wife.

He seemed to understand. "Softly massage, my joints," Egg all but begged. "They're fine for now so remember for later, but for now wash my back…" One of the maids handed her a stack of washrags. "The water is soaked with a medicinal balm Qyburn prepared… and there's more in that pitcher resting by your stool." Aegon's eyes gazed at her in a muted fear, as if he worried Nymella would be repulsed.

She only smiled and picks up a washcloth, scrubbing the rash without revulsion. "You fear I wouldn't do this for you?" she asked

"Not many outside my family would stomach such a sight on someone of the blood of the dragon." So much for the doctrine of exceptionalism.

"You're the man I love, and I am to be your wife." With her free hand, she caressed his cheek. "If there is anyone you can be vulnerable with, it is I." He grew silent, to which Nymella bit her lip. "You haven't allowed yourself to be vulnerable for a while, have you?"

"No" Egg allowed after a moment of hesitation. "I've tried everything within my power to shake off the image of the cripple prince living in the shadow of the golden boy of the family, his favored younger brother."

Nymella was surprised. "You love your brother, don't you?" Crown Prince Baelon was someone she was eager to meet. To win over before the wedding.

"I do not possess the slightest resentment for Baelon," he insisted. "If that's what you fear, he has always loved me and I him, but I still wanted to make something of myself. What sort of Prince would I be if I allowed anyone aside from my family to see glimpses of the sickly child I once was."

Gods, it seemed as if a dragon just came off his chest. He must feel liberated, being vulnerable with someone. The court in King's Landing was reputably filled with snakes, and for sure the court in Sunspear was the same given Prince Doran's inclinations towards Queen Lyanna and Aegon's half-siblings.

"I understand." She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his lips. "Just let me tell you, I witnessed as you - covered in flame - saved me with just a single sword from a half-dozen ironborn. Never will I ever think you weak, so it is alright for you to be vulnerable to me. Your future wife."

Egg smiled broadly. "Thank you."

"I love you, don't forget that," Nymella insisted.

"I won't." Egg said as he turned and captured her lips in a kiss.

The kiss was welcome, and when he pulled back she gave him a saucy look. "You know... it helps knowing that upon our wedding night, I have everything to look forward to." She smirked, feeling playful - a welcome new feeling - biting her lip and looking at his crotch submerged underneath the rippling water.

"You have no idea," Egg growled, violet eyes dark. It made her shiver.

"You have yet to see me in my nude glory," she giggled, getting bolder.

"I cannot wait for that glorious moment."

In a break from the carnal innuendo that was testing Nymella's resolve to wait for their wedding night, she poured more of the salve onto the rag, wetted it with the bathwater, and returned to his shoulders. "My girls have finally arrived from Ghost Hill."

"Truly?" Aegon looked over his shoulder, smiling. "I missed the two sweetlings."

"I should hope so, they are to be your stepdaughters." She bit her lip - they had gotten along when Aegon visited Ghost Hill, but that was as a visiting royal rather than a father figure. Dour, hard to charm Valena would be less inclined to accept Aegon than Teora, and she hoped her love wouldn't be perturbed by it.

As always, she should've trusted Aegon's penchant for making her melt. "Looking forward to it, nervous though I am. My munas love children running around, and my siblings and cousin Baela would fit them right into their circles."

In lieu of a response, Nymella simply kissed the crown of his head. "They'll love you as much as their mother does." Another issue gnawed at her. "Valena, she's heard of what happened in Sunspear."

Aegon sighed. "I was barely five or so when the Ironborn attacked King's Landing."

"Where your sister took Euron's eye."

"I'm only angry she didn't stab him all the way through, nor that I did." He winced as she pressed a little too hard on his shoulder. "Easy there."

Nymella bit her lip. "Apologies, my love." She kissed his cheek. "What do you think I should do?"

Her man shrugged. "Be honest with her, but leave out enough. She's seven, not one and ten."

A nod. "Good advice." Gods, she was lucky. "I love you."

Aegon leaned over and smiled at her. "I love you too." If this was to be what the rest of her life would be… Nymella regretted none of her decisions that led her to this point.