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There were many things she could be doing right now instead of listening to her god-forsaken father.
While she adored her half-siblings and was rather fond of her stepmother, an uncontrollable sting of envy appeared within her while hearing him express his pride over another one of his newborns having their dragon egg hatch, thankfully, with another two saved for later. Of course, everyone made their congratulations around the table. All except for her cousin, Aemond.
Rarely did her attention take note of him, though his ability to merge into the background did not completely miss her. Aemond was never a fan of pleasantries, and despite never having a full conversation with him, she suspected he despised these annual visits to Dragonstone as much as she did.
“And what of Princess Rhaena?”
Everyone’s attention was drawn toward the far end of the table.
“Will there be a dragon egg gifted to her as well?”
Aemond unblinkingly focused on her father, to whom his question was directed. Her father began to laugh, realized none would join him, and coughed, but remained smiling.
“One could ask you the same question, nephew.”
“Daemon,” Her stepmother tried, but he continued.
“Was it not you who forcefully mounted the very dragon meant for her?”
“Forcefully?” Aemond did not shrink, “Dragons are not slaves, uncle. They choose who is worthy enough to be their rider, more so than when we choose our dragons to ride.”
Only then did her father look towards her. “Then I suppose we cannot all be dragon riders after all.”
Rhaena leaned on her tippy toes with her arms stretched before leaping upwards. A frustrated growl followed when the blasted book she attempted to remove from the shelf remained out of reach.
The chair made the most terrible noise while being dragged toward the bookshelf. Thank the Gods that none hardly visited in here.
Focused, skirts lifted, Rhaena stepped up and balanced on the chair. Though before finally gripping the spine of the book, a confident hand reached past her head and slid the book out from the shelf.
A surprised curse followed by losing balance made the chair slip from underneath her feet, though before plummeting to the floor, a careful pair of arms postponed the fall.
“It is no wonder why she did not choose you.”
“Gods, Prince Aemond?”
“Princess Rhaena.”
“Put me down.”
“Hmm.”
Her backside landed on the floor. Though the fall was not painful, his rude manner infuriated her. Before she could tell him as much—
“What do we have here? Internal Fire: The Art of Bonding With A Mature Dragon.” He smiled mockingly down at her, “Contemplating becoming a meal for Cannibal, dear cousin?”
Rhaena surged forward.
“That is none of your business.”
Aemond held the book out of reach, smiling, his eye wide. He was enjoying this.
“Give it back.”
“Not before you answer my question.”
“Hardly a question.”
Gods, she seldom recalled him ever smiling as much as this. Aemond ignored her, flipping to a random page, and reading.
“While the conventional method of bonding with a dragon occurs well before a hatchling exits the yolk sack, some may find comfort in understanding the possibilities of bonding with a mature dragon.”
This was a battle she would not engage in. Rhaena slipped some unnamed book off the shelf, refusing to leave empty-handed, bypassed this animated cousin of hers, and took refuge within her secluded corner.
"If you wish for help," it was a whisper, "you need only ask."
Rhaena reminded silent, and as the library entrance closed softly, her eyes remained glued to the page in front of her. Wordless.
The second attempt was no more successful than the first. Eyeing the same book between Aemond's fingers. Rhaena did not suppress her frustrations.
“You have helped enough by stealing my mother's dragon.”
“Which I am reminded of with every glance my way.”
That caused a pause. Not exactly the response she expected. It was then her attention pulled to the skin surrounding the leather eyepatch. Healed but marred, a permanent reminder of his reward for bonding with a dragon.
She must have been examining him for too long since he scowled and shifted his face away.
“Sorry!”
Impulsive.
“I mean—it was never our intention to—“
No. She could not speak for her cousins.
“It was never my intention to—" What, exactly? "It should not have gone that far. I am truly sorry.“
Embarrassed, Rhaena held her breath.
Aemond shifted his gaze to her with indifference, slipped the book into its original slot, which was, unfortunately, still far from her reach, and left. The ground momentarily disappeared as the library entrance slammed shut.
It was the next morning, after convincing herself to not be a coward, that Rhaena slipped back into her secluded corner, fully expecting to complete a rather scandalous book found beneath Baela's bed.
That scandal book went untouched as Internal Fire was neatly stacked with a select few of other titles. A note with the prettiest handwriting ever seen stuck out from the pages.
It read, “The ignorant should consider familiarizing themselves with the history before attempting to bond with a mature dragon.”
A week went by before she saw him again.
It was a quick flash of his seated figure as she exited the library. Though, he did not look up when she passed.
Another week left.
It became an unacknowledged ritual for the two patrons to dance around each other while occupying the library. Pretending as if the other was not there.
In the beginning, her stubbornness ensured she replicated his aloof behavior. Though with each text she finished, the questions mounted, and the desire to compare with another each differing observation, each methodology and philosophy was painful.
Her brain nagged, begging for her to approach him.
But she did not.
Her attempts to converse with her sister were unsuccessful. Yes, Baela listened, but she did not understand. Moondancer, her sister’s dragon, hatched with her as a babe, a far different bonding experience than with a fully mature dragon.
It was upon closing the final book that she caved. Without even thinking, Rhaena crossed the library, descending down the aisle she usually glimpsed the Prince, but stopped in her tracks.
He was not there.
She spun on her heel, and ventured to the other side.
But still, nothing.
A series of shadows passed over the room, followed by a deep vibration that shook the walls. Outside the window, Vhagar and Sunfyre flew in the distance with Aemond and Aegon on dragonback. Rhaena’s feet had a mind of their own, but truly, her mind did not have the chance to convince herself out of it.
Aemond and Aegon walked through the entrance of her home. Aegon huffed to acknowledge her before directing something towards Aemond that she could not hear. Almost as if expecting it, Aegon dodged his brother’s hand and ran past her with a laugh.
“Prince Aemond.”
He sent her a glance but did not slow his steps. Rude.
“Princess Rhaena.”
Gods, his legs were long.
Before thinking, her hand latched onto his arm. The leather nearly caused it to slip from her fingers, though it mattered not as he abruptly stopped to scowl at her hand in disdain.
“I read them all,” Gods, she was out of breath. “Why does Galaelor claim one must leave gifts while Maltaris insists on a direct contact approach? No prior meetings? Would one not be considerably more fatal than the other? And what of the dragon’s temperament? They are hardly similar.” Rhaena took a deep breath. Every inquiry and observation bubbled within her, it was an instinct eerily similar to hunger, and she wanted to consume.
It was then her eyes focused on Aemond. He regarded her in a peculiar manner, of course, his usual indifference was forefront, replacing the scowl she could have sworn—
“All of them, you say.”
“Of course.”
“Hmm.”
“Well? Do you not have any contribution to make?”
Again, his eye reminded observing her, contemplating. Rhaena indulged him for a prolonged moment before realizing that her hand was still attached to his arm. Clearly, this was a pointless go and quickly became embarrassing. She yanked her arm away and turned on her heel, ready to find her sister. At least a polite nod and smile were favorable to Aemond silent game of stares. Before taking two steps, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aemond gave an uncommitted hum while pulling her to the library.
“You are approaching the literature wrong.”
“And yet it states right here that wild dragons cannot be tamed. It is against their nature.”
Aemond had been staring outside the window since their meeting began. It was as if he was looking for something.
“That is a single argument by one source. Familiarize yourself with Maltaris once more.“
Luke listened intently while Rhaena described the lost dragon species that went extinct after the Doom. Though invested at first, he switched the subject to something rather mundane. Rhaena smiled and nodded, though it required restraint for her not to seek out her rouge companion likely plowing through a book within the library.
“What have we here?“ Her stepmother's eldest entered the balcony, carrying something rattling in his hand.
“Look, Rhae.”
Luke uncloaked the object, it was a birdcage that held what appeared to be a young robin.
“I wish you to have this bird, for in my heart you are a—“ Luke paused and questionably glanced up to his brother who nudged him. “Yes, A beautiful bird.”
The bird chirped.
Rhaena accepted the gift graciously, for the bird was indeed beautiful. Her smile slightly slipped as Luke continued, “While our uncle may have stolen your chance to become a dragon rider, may this bird connect you to the skies as a dragon might have.”
“Stolen?”
Luke and Jace exchanged a look. “Well, he did steal—“
“Dragons are not our property. They are not slaves. They choose who is worthy enough to be their rider, and Vhagar chose Prince Aemond.”
Rhaena left without hearing a response.
Later that night, she freed the bird from its cage.
Rhaena hummed along with Aemond as he explained the consequences of lacking confidence while bonding with a dragon.
“What is the matter with you?”
She blinked.
“I have sat here repeating the same phrase thrice without any response.”
“Aemond, I—“
“If my observations bore you then let us prevent further time wasted and—“
Rhaena hung her head. Aemond’s demeanor immediately changed while tracking the silent tear that fell down her cheek.
“Is there an explanation for these tears?”
She told him.
“I’ll kill him.”
“Is killing always the first thing that comes to mind for you?”
“Yes.”
She told him that was hardly necessary.
Rhaena suppressed her sprint while exiting her chambers. Apparently, this attempt was for not.
“Visiting my brother once more, I see.”
“Your insinuation eludes me, Prince Aegon.”
“Sure it does.”
Feeling as if the conversation was over, Rhaena began her journey once more.
“Rhaena?”
“My prince.”
“Do be careful. Aemond does not take well to sharing.”
She ignored him.
Lucerys was bedridden for some days.
They walked along the shore. A habit she secretly looked forward to despite the itch that usually accompanied her ankles as the rim of her skirts become soaked.
Aemond appeared concentrated on something in the distance. She saw nothing and did not ask, likely, he would not answer anyway. Rhaena grew to appreciate Aemond’s silence. At first, she assumed he tired of hearing her voice, until he continuously asked her to elaborate, even when there was not much to elaborate on. An inherent passion for judging another's philosophy.
“Your betrothed is a fool.”
“No. He simply—forgot.”
“And yet it affected you enough to tell me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Luke had mentioned the possibility of celebrating the Crone, the Goddess of Wisdom, since her constellation had momentarily become visible at night. It was a most exciting proposition, both Baela and Jaceryas had agreed. Rhaena nearly did as well, if only the celebration were not on dragonback.
“That adorable dragon of his can hardly fit one individual, never mind two. You would fair better riding with his brother. Hmm, or perhaps your sister.” Rhaena close her eyes for she knew what was next. “But of course, neither of theirs is any more suitable.”
“One would think twice before offending another rider's dragon.”
Aemond made a quick step in front of her, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her close. Rhaena took a quick glance towards the castle, it was hardly seen behind the forest, but one could not be so careful.
“What are you doing, Aemond?” She hissed, attempting to pry away from him before someone spotted them.
He only brought her closer.
Her palms found his forearms, a weak attempt at allowing distance. Aemond ducked his head to her ear. The warmth of his breath and the natural breeze of the seaside sent a shiver through her.
“And what have I to caution for, princess?”
Something behind her made him glance up accompanied by the familiar cry of Vhagar in the distance. Aemond glanced back to her, then beckoned with his hand towards the forest.
“Let us go.”
The warmth left. Rhaena crossed her arms across herself, not in the mood for his antics.
“No.”
“Rhaena. Come.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“No!”
She found herself in his arms, the crushing sea slowly moving further out of sight as they became engulfed in the forest. After the waves became distant enough to where she couldn’t pinpoint their direction, she yelled, “Put me down!”
“Hmm.”
Her face touched the grass.
“You want a dragon? Claim a dragon.”
An impossible proposition. One does not simply stroll in the woods to go dragon shopping. Most importantly, the wild dragons of Dragonstone were hardly ever seen, and better yet, would not be claimed. Her frustration mounted.
“What is the matter with you?”
“Many things.”
“Aemond. This is madness. We are expected at the castle.”
“Remember what we discussed read. Remember what you read. And for the love of the Seven, do not be a coward.”
Aemond strutted further into the forest before she could respond. Rhaena stood and followed, but it quickly became apparent that she was following a ghost.
“Gods Aemond, why must you jest!”
Nothing.
The forest was filled with silence, dense fog, and warmth.
Rhaena let her feet guide her forward. Soon the marsh became damp, before becoming a stream. Her skirt bottoms were now long ruined. It was then she saw them, at the river bank, blending into the mist which surrounded them. Meticulously, they stuck their head underneath the water before capturing their fish.
This was her chance.
Yet why was she hesitant?
For the longest time, she believed a dragon was the missing piece in her life. The key to happiness, the path towards her father’s approval, the paternal attention forever lost with her mother.
No longer.
Since her mother’s death, there was bitterness that possessed a hole in her heart. It had found itself absent during her time with Aemond. Unintentionally, he demonstrated that there was more to life than claiming a dragon.
Rhaena’s hesitance to tell him the truth stemmed from a fear that their newly acquired friendship would end. If one might call it that.
It soon occurred to her that her desire to become a dragon rider had waned considerably within the past few weeks, leaving her content to watch the wild dragon eat their dinner without acknowledging her presence.
A hand covered her mouth before the rough bark of a tree pressed into her back. Aemond held his index figure over her lips while shifting his gaze between the dragon and herself. After noticing her attempt to speak, he brought himself impossibly close to her, a whisper length away.
“Aemond,” a breath. Rhaena didn’t know what to say. Or how to say what she didn’t know. Therefore she omitted words and communicated with her lips by seizing his. The taste of sea salt was overwhelming but intoxicating. It was Aemond who had to catch his breath.
“Aemond—“
“I know.”