Chapter Text
The tide is high. Sounds of gentle crashing waves surround you, salt and sea. The water is blue, blue enough to bleed seemingly into the sky as though they were connected all along. The scent of salt and some distant independence overcome you, inviting you to join them in the water. Soft padded thuds of your short heeled boots stop you, so you pause to take them off. As you approach the coast, you sit just before the edge of the water, allowing your feet to stay within the cold, lapping water. Coarse sand gets between your toes, grounding you. Everything feels surreal, nothing is as it should be. Your septa is scampering about the Keep, in search of you. The air has shifted. You almost feel as one with the rising water beneath your ankles, the winds sing a song you haven’t heard before, you wonder if you could recreate it on your harp later. A sharp reminder- Mother said not to practice while she is still with child, something about her sensitive nerves, code for she doesn’t like the instrument. The calls of seagulls are harmonious within your ears, you stare longingly at them. To be so free must be a fate blessed to only the lucky few. You feel weighed down by the silver bracelet on your wrist, a dragon with two matching sapphire eyes. A voice calls you from afar, breaking the trance.
Helaena, again.
You’d nearly forgotten your aunt’s presence entirely. She had been in search of new insects to study, they’d always fascinated her. The pair of you had much in common, but only recently became closer as you grew into young women together. No, you were much closer in early childhood to your uncle, Aemond, who was only a few moons older than yourself. Ironically, you found yourself much closer to the children of Alicent, rather than your own siblings. There was nothing wrong with them, per se, however they were little boys, and much less mature, despite the short age gap keeping you apart. Not that you could ever publicly admit it, but there was a bond between them that ran deep within their blood, blood which you only partially shared. Distractedly, you reached out in return, “Yes, Helaena?” Yet, no response came. You turned to face her, only to be met with the face of your sworn knight, Ser Jarrod. He was a tall man, around the same height as your father. He had pale skin, and dark hair, with a stern face. He was a man from the Vale, a place you’d always wished to visit. “Princess, I apologize for interrupting, but your mother requests your presence in her chambers,” Your blood ran cold. The babe, she must’ve had it. Helaena seemingly came to the same conclusion as she stared at you concernedly. “My mother is laboring?” Ser Jarrod stilled, and the tension grew. A million thoughts poured into your still mind, each worse than the last. “No, Princess, she has already given birth.”
A mixture of relief and disappointment ran through your being. The knight led you inside, Helaena having decided to stay in the gardens, soon after spotting her own younger brother. Something in the keep felt different, it felt how it did when your mother introduced Luke to the world, though you have but a brief memory of the event. The air was charged, and you briefly wondered where your brothers were. Every night for the past five moons since you’d learned of her pregnancy, you’d prayed to the Seven that this babe would look like you, to be in solidarity with you. The locks of brown atop your brother's heads were a stark difference to the long white hair you shared with your mother. There were few things restricting you from standing with your family and appearing to fit in seamlessly. Yet, you had an undeniable loyalty to your family, to your mother’s birth-right, no matter the fracturedness of your relationship.
Your loud thoughts kept you so out of it you hadn’t even noticed how close you were to your mothers chambers until you found yourself outside the doors. Ser Jarrod opened the door, and announced your presence to your mother. There she sat on a small red pleated chemise, with Jace and Luke by her sides, looking curiously at the little babe held in her arms. Brown hair. Ser Harwin Strong stood beside her, they looked more like a family together than you had ever looked with them and Ser Laenor. A pang of hurt rang through your already fragile heart. Moments like these made you feel beyond your years. “Mother,’ you called, hoping to catch her attention for a brief acknowledgement. She looked up, smiling at you. Never had you ever seen someone look so exhausted, yet somehow happy. They were all there, and none of them thought to look for you? Maybe you could’ve had a chance to feel pity for yourself, but then your mother beckoned you to sit beside her, and you saw the babe up close. “Joffrey, your father named him.” There was a noticeable twinge of distaste for the name, and you questioned, “That is not a traditional Valyrian name, is it?”
She grimaced. “No, my sweet. And yet, it befits him all the same, there is no point in arguing the name, it is rather kind on him.” The implication was not lost on you. You knew as well as the rest of the Keep the rumours surrounding the legitimacy of your brother’s parentage. Luckily, you had been saved from such lingering insults. Yes, by some miracle of the gods, the only night your parents lay together, they were able to produce an heir. This then gave both of them the freedom to seek pleasures elsewhere. Still, your mother had yet to officially announce you to be her heir.This hurt briefly, uncertainty had always uneased you, and being successor was a feat you’d lived your entire life hoping to become. Despite the bridges not yet being made between you and your brothers, your mother had tried everything to ensure you did not become estranged from her. It was not the bond she had with her own mother, but it was still a strong bond. By her insistence, you had studied much harder than your brothers or aunt, and had been readied to ascend eventually. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.
Laenor patted your head playfully, as if you were a pet. A few moments later, you were ushered out along with your brothers by your father. From there, Ser Jarrod led you all to the dragonpit, for your scheduled training.
The dragonpit was cold, and reeked of dragons. The smell was distinct, and mother always would chastise you for not bathing immediately after visiting Thalaerion. The dragonkeepers were attempting to aid Jacaerys in getting his own Vermax to obey him. At times you’d wondered why they struggled so deeply with their dragons, when your own was so agreeable. You ventured into the dragonpit, unchecked. Aemond followed you, eager to see you interact with a dragon- properly. He never had one of his own, and you both felt ostracized by your respective families, though you thought him to be far more than you. He was your closest companion, save for Helaena. In a way, you two were almost cut from the same cloth, but fate had been kinder to you in most instances. You made your way through the dark, unlighted pathways of the dragonpit, until you eventually reached Thalaerion.
He was a beast of a gargantuan size, having grown unnaturally fast. The scales adorned him were iridescent, appearing some sort of blue, a deep blue, while in plain sight you might only see black. His eyes were, as well, a deep blue, blue like the sea. The color seemed to follow you in every aspect of your life. Your mother’s dragon wore a chain with a large heart pendant, and for your last nameday, she had a matching one made for Thalaerion. “Helaena was speaking in riddles again,” you broke the silence. Aemond glanced at you, “She’s been doing it more, lately. Mother sent for the maester. They question her sanity, though I don’t think it is anything severe.” You frowned, Helaena wasn’t mad. She spoke oddities, and she only really cared for insects, but she wasn’t mad. “I think she is just misunderstood.” he nodded in agreement. Thalaerion huffed and stared at you both. You stayed there for a few short moments, just petting Thalaerion, as he preferred to be paid attention to, and got angered if you didn’t. The silence was a comfort to you both, “Thank you.” Your eyebrow raised as you turned to look at him quizzically, “For what?” you were genuinely perplexed. “For including me.” You felt your cheeks burn with bashfulness.
“It’s not worth the gratitude, I just enjoy your presence..” your words drifted off, and he visibly shifted awkwardly. “As does Thalaerion, of course..!” you attempted to save your turn of words, but the air had shifted with the implication of your comment. “.. I enjoy your presence, as well. You are much more agreeable and kind than either my or your brothers.” The words you’d both spoken had been weighted, and now there was a new layer to your friendship. The silence engulfing you was complex, something to contemplate later. Thalaerion grew tired of your company, and began pushing you out with his snout, a puff of warm air punctuating his exasperation. You took that as a sign to leave him be, and the pair of you returned to the main chamber. Once there, you saw that Jacaerys had finally gotten Vermax to heed his commands, a small pile of charred goat remains being evidence. You gave him a small pat on the back.
The dragonkeepers brought Vermax back to the catacombs, signalling the end of your required time to practice. Aegon turned to his brother, “Aemond, we have a surprise for you.” You sensed something was amiss immediately. Aegon was known to not have an ounce of kindness, and would repeatedly jest cruelly for his own enjoyment. Aemond knew of it too, moreso than you, yet still he asked, “What is it?” Your heart ached in the face of Aemond still having faith in his older brother. They had a larger age difference than you and your closest brother, Jacaerys, and still you weren’t nearly as mean-spirited to him, no matter how insufferable you deemed him. Though, the family dynamics were entirely different as well. Where your mother taught you to be gracious and to love, theirs showed naught but harshness and an inability to truly care for them beyond a basic maternal amount.
Luke walked around the three of you, “It’s something special.” he said, with a sly grin beginning to take hold of his features. If you were unsure before about the nature of this exchange, you were more than certain now. You took his arm, trying to pull him away before it became a spectacle. “Aemond, let’s just go,” Aegon shot you a glare, “This doesn’t exactly concern you, Lady Overbearing.” You felt a twinge of shame, but persisted. “Aemond seriously, they’re not going to give you anything real, it’s Aegon.” He relented, and took a step back with you, until, “You’re the only one of us without a dragon.” Then Aemond’s attention was caught, and you found yourself dragged along with the rest of them. “Indeed.” Unease was pooling in the pit of your stomach.
“We felt badly about it,” Aegon paused for a beat, allowing for Aemond’s hopes to build, for that light of trust to light just enough to dim. “So, we found one for you.” Aemond was, at current, beyond logical reason, too caught up in his unrelenting desire for a dragon. Yet, he would still keep some form of boundary up, “How?” he questioned. “The gods provide.” An elusive, dodging reply. By now, Aegon had led you to the edge of the slanted entrance, and made you stand nervously. You picked at your nailbeds. Jace walked up, leading something. “Behold..” Aegon said in unison with your brothers, “The Pink Dread!” as Jace displayed a large, dirty pig dressed with handmade poorly crafted wings. You knew your brothers were just little playthings to Aegon, but they were old enough to know better than to be so cruel. Quickly, you grabbed Jace by the ear, and began chastising him.
You stood a few inches taller than Jace, so berating him was easy. “What is wrong with you? Are you so desperate for attention?” He looked like a kicked puppy. “It was just a joke, sister. Aegon was the one who thought of it!” You rolled your eyes internally. “I don’t care, you’re not that naïve! Are you truly so simple-minded that you cannot tell whether or not a joke has gone too far?” He winced when you pulled his earlobe slightly. “Let go! Let go, or I’ll tell mother!” You pulled harder. Aegon began to laugh from behind, revelling in the sight of your enraged self, and a heartbroken Aemond. Your head whipped back, and without a second thought, you slapped his face, hard, hard enough it stung your hand. Aegon let out a cry, a pathetic high-pitched cry, and his face was red with the imprint of your small hand. He hooked a harsh punch to your left cheek. Blood began seeping from your lip, and Jace winced at the sight of the fat below your skin.
Ser Jarrod grabbed you, and the rest of the sworn protectors led each of you out, escorting you all to the keep. All but one. In the rush of the moment, Aemond had gotten away, venturing into the dragonpit, in hopes of claiming one of the dormant creatures within the catacombs. You spent the entire walk back to the Keep cursing Aegon, having no care to what passerbys have to say of your unbecoming language. They brought you and your brothers directly to your mother, who was concerned for the blood and deep gash on your lip, calling for the maesters, and demanding to know the details of whatever had transpired. The maester arrived, and took an assessment of your condition. Your lip was split, and the maester determined that it would leave a small scar, the wound was made worse by a ring Aegon had been wearing. In addition, your jaw was bruised and aching sorely, which was mended by the maester simply to lather it with a poultice. They did, much to your dismay, have to clean the wound on your lip. Luckily, they moved you to your personal chambers after the dressing and stitching.
Once your lip was taken care of, and your bruises were tended to, your mother demanded you tell her the truth of the event, while helping you wash not just the stench of dragon, but the dried blood now on your face, and the little bit that somehow made its way into your white locks. Despite her tender touch, her words were rough, as she lectured you on the repercussions of your actions, and the undeniable shift in what was to be. “I understand Aemond is your friend, and I am so proud of you for finding your voice, but you were reckless. Aegon is much larger than you, and has a short temper. You could’ve been hurt even worse than you were.” you huffed. “I couldn’t let them just get away with it..” She sighed, and stopped for a few moments. “My sweet, I know there are many things which plague your mind, things I am not privy to understand as you do, but you are my heir. As such, you must be above in terms of maturity. You acted bravely, yes, but it was below your station. You and I are both women, and we are not afforded the ability to act as brazenly as we are owed to.” The bath grew cold. You nodded dejectedly, and that was the end of the conversation, save for the small kiss she had pressed against your brow before she left.
Your handmaidens came in, hurriedly picking out a black nightgown for you, and braiding your hair. Supper was served to you alone, as the maester feared the force of the punch may have disoriented you, and ordered significant rest for the remainder of the day. It was lamb chops with some boiled potatoes, and a glass of water. Wine was only allowed to you at feasts, and it was watered down then too. You ate in silence, brewing over the events of the day, and as the hour grew late, you laid on a cushion beside your windowsill, reading a book. It was one of your favorites, a tale of a princess finding a great love for herself. You were more than aware no such kindness could be promised to you, and there was little point to even imagine it for yourself. Still, you found deep comfort in the escapism. Suddenly, there was a creaking noise echoing through your chambers. You quickly looked up for the source of the noise, only to find Aemond having snuck in from an entrance behind a painting. If your legs had perhaps been a little less sore from being still so long, you would’ve gone up to greet him.
“Aemond, what are you doing here? If either of our mothers find out you’re in here, they’ll only give us more lecturing than they already do.” Luckily for him, the dimness of the room had hidden the traces of ash still on his face, but as he stepped closer to sit on the edge of your bed, you saw the soot. He didn’t answer you. “Why did you do it?” His voice was rough, and he seemed.. Angered? You looked back at him, trying to catch his direct gaze. “What do you mean? I just wanted to defend you, they were being so cruel-” he cut you off sharply, “You made me look weak! I understand you meant well, but you only made me look even more pathetic!” The sudden outburst caught you off guard, and you suddenly flinched. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that would be the implication,” your words were stuck on your tongue, and you stuttered endlessly. He sighed, and sat down with his back to you. You felt your eyes stinging a bit, but you fought hard to not cry, at least not while he was here. The silence was deafening. “I’m sorry Aemond, truly, I never wanted to make you feel lesser than.” A small sniffle was heard from the end of the bed, and slowly he began to let out silent sobs. You willed yourself to get up, the ache of your limbs now entirely forgotten, and you sat beside him, wrapping your arms around him and letting him cry.
“Talk to me, please, tell me what’s wrong..” His voice was small, and muffled by your nightgown, “They’re all so mean to me,” he said your name quietly, “I’m not that different, I only just don’t have a dragon.. Am I really that despicable?” You shook your head vehemently, trying to get through to him enough to believe you. “No, you’re not despicable at all, they are just small-minded, and immature, there was no fault by you.” While the two of you had been close companions prior to this, this was the first real altercation you’d instigated for him, and the first either of you felt safe enough to be vulnerable. There was an undeniable shift, a new layer peeling back. You felt the wet tears beginning to dampen your nightgown, and suddenly he became aware of the situation, as he pulled back. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t proper, I should go.” A flash of hurt rang through you. “Aem, don’t just leave because you don’t want to let me in.”
He left without hearing you out.
The next morning, your grandsire asked you to join Helaena and spend a while with him while your brothers trained with your uncles. Though you had little desire to go, you went anyway to appease your mother. The handmaidens came in, dressing you in a simple black dress decorated with a navy blue lace trim. In a small basket hanging from your arm, is your needle and embroidery frame, as well as a book you’d been gifted by your other grandsire, Lord Corlys, via ship. You were greeted by Helaena once Ser Jarrod escorted you to the balcony. There were a few kingsguard, your grandsire, Viserys, his Hand, Lord Lyonel, and your aunt, Helaena. “Good morrow, grandsire. It is wonderful to spend time with you outside of just court.” The smile that the king gave you was one he only reserved for family. “Good morrow to you as well, princess. How is your injury fairing? I was white with rage to know my Aegon was the culprit of such assault. He may be a prince but he is still with the mind of an aimless child..”
Fluster overcame you at the mention of the incident, as your mother was calling it. Surely by now there were rumours flooding the keep of your unladylikeness. “It was a … misplacement of judgement of mine own.” you gritted it through your teeth, or at least you did in your head, realistically you said it as you would talk about any mundane thing. Viserys nodded at your socially correct answer, yet the look he gave you after showed he knew it was fully intentional and long-coming.
“I see.” Lord Lyonel looked at you two, “Princess, would you not wish to also train as your brothers do? You are a Targaryen princess, and the heir, surely there would be little improper in learning to take care of yourself in a more structured manner.” That seemed to appease Viserys, as he heartily agreed, and went on a tangent of wanting to have a Valyrian steel sword forged for you, another with engraving in testament to your dragon. “I’d like that very much, I do love sapphires paired with Valyrian steel. My only concern would be if my mother would like the idea of me training with a sword.” He quickly assured you that he’d convince her, and to not worry over it. There was a loud commotion suddenly arising below in the courtyard.
Ser Criston Cole had arranged for a duel between two sets of brothers, your older uncles, and your much younger brothers. It was beyond unfair, not only because of the drastic size differences between the pairs, but as well in the age differences. How were two children under nine expected to duel a teenager and another child older than the oldest of them by almost a whole year? Cole seemed to pay little mind to logistics, focusing more on the white haired children winning rather than coaching them all. You paid a moment's attention to it, then focused embroidering with Helaena instead. Viserys asked you both to embroider dragons onto handkerchiefs for him, so you were attempting to capture the likeness of Balerion from memory of words you’d heard in some retelling of a tale of his riders.
A large commotion arose. Your grandsire sighed heavily, but Lord Lyonel appeared distressed, and in deep thought. “What is it?” You got up, peaking over the balcony
There was Ser Harwin, and Ser Criston. And then Ser Criston was on the floor, bloodied. Anxiety filled you as you realized the implication of what just happened. Your brother’s legitimacy would be put to question, again. Viserys urged you to sit back, as the sight was unseemly for your eyes. You did as you were told, and went back to embroidering in hopes to ease your rambling thoughts. You stared so long and so hard at your embroidering your eyes began to burn and little red lines showed up within your sclera, displaying your inner turmoil.