Scampering Noises

scampering noises

look at him goooooo,,,,

Chapter 19 My tears are blood

Chapter 19 of Moonlight

A/N- Daemon would be so proud of you

Warning- Swearing, fishing, ANGST!!, violence, blood and death!!, some fluff, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Chapters- 434-438

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

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Black dense smoke is all you see. If you weren’t flying it would look like the sky was suddenly overcome by an intoxicating darkness, but you’re on top of your dragon and it's clear that all that pollutes the sky is black smoke rising off sinking or burning ships. It burns your eyes and brings them to tears, but it’s hard to rub the stinging away. It infiltrates your nose and burns your nostrils, making you want to stop breathing as you fly closer and closer to the Gullet.

But you can’t stop breathing and you can’t stop flying forward. You should, part of the Velaryon fleet is set ablaze or is nothing but polluting debris in the water, while what survived of the Triarchy fleet is fleeing from not only four dragons roaming the skies, but five, and one of them is not Syrax, it’s a small and ugly colored dragon; meaning the battle is over, you got here too late.

Yet how can you fathom leaving when you know nothing of your brothers or Rhaena? Surely if they were rescued most of the dragonriders would have returned to Dragonstone, but they’re all still chasing the Triarchy. All except Vermax and Jacaerys, where are they?

Maybe he took them back to Dragonstone? You can’t imagine he would let your mother keep him in Dragonstone while the others are fighting, so he must have saved them and taken them home.

Yes, that's it. Your mind fixates on that thought while your heart is reassured by it, letting you drive your focus to the small ugly dragon in the distance—You never saw it at Dragonstone while you were there, and the muddy brown and pink spots don’t trigger any memory of its mention, so it must be wild, but…why is it fighting?

“<Let's get closer to that brown dragon,>” you tell Astraea as you feel a bit starstruck by the wild dragon in the midst of battle. The rider must be someone truly incredible to have claimed a wild dragon.

You want to see who it is! Plus while you’re answering your curiosity you can catch Baela’s attention and have her assure you that your brothers and Rhaena were rescued. You can’t leave without knowing. You were eager to fight, the whole flight here all that occupied your mind was ways you could and would fight, but alas you were too late.

Nevertheless, as Astraea reaches the sea and flies over the polluted water, there past a thick cloud of black smoke is a Myrish ship with two men standing at the edge of the starboard yelling and shooting two arrows at something in the water. You follow their aim and the first thing you see floating in the murky body of water is Vermax…

You see part of his green wing entangled by chains, while his head poked out of the water. Yet even then he doesn’t thrash or scream, his eyes are rolled back and his neck is slowly being weighed down by a broken ship's mast. You search for the saddle to see if Jacaerys is caught, but that part of Vermax is sunken in the water, you can’t see your brother. He’s not on his dragon.

“Astraea,” you whimper, but she saw what you did; she sees Vermax sinking and flies low while she cries out in sorrow.

“Jacaerys!” You cry out even though you know your shout isn’t loud enough to be heard from the top of your dragon, not while the commotion of distant fire blasts and blood-curdling screams filter the polluted air. Yet you still call out desperately. “Jacaerys!”

When you approach Vermax, you pull off your restraints and shove your feet in the saddle's stirrups to crouch over the seat, while more men on the Myrish ship approach the starboard and aim their crossbows at something in front of Vermax’s head. Something you can’t see, but it’s still something that catches your breath, causing Astraea to react by picking up her speed just by a little, but enough for you to finally catch what it is that the men are pointing at; it’s…Jacaerys with an arrow in his chest and one in his stomach.

“Jacaerys!” You bellow out in panic and concern.

Said man manages to hear the sound of his name coming from your lips and begins to move his head, while the men in the distance get ready to shoot their crossbows thinking that the purple dragon is on their side and here to fight, but alas they’re proven wrong the moment you sneer out a single command. “Dracarys!”

Astraea opens her mouth and blasts out blazing fire, burning away the threat with a single cloud of fire, but alas, a moment too late. You were too late, Jacaerys was still hit.

“Jacaerys!” You cry out to let him know you’re here even if he already sees you approaching. “Just…hold on.”

A part of you wants to jump off your dragon, but you also know that won’t bode well for neither you or Jacaerys, so instead you trust your dragon to carefully grab onto Jacaerys with her claws to fly him to stable ground where you can help him. After all, the other dragonriders are taking care of the enemy fleet so you can help him. You can save him, it can’t be too late.

It can’t be too late. You couldn’t have gotten here too late.

You can save him. You can save him, you can. Yes, you can.

“It’s going to be okay,” your voice quivers, but you don’t cry, because you keep repeating to yourself that he’ll be okay. That makes you ignorant of the truth. It numbs you and makes you desperate.

That's why after Astraea puts Jacaerys down, you don’t wait for her to land. You frantically hop off your saddle with an ignorance pumping your blood that makes you sprint over to Jacaerys and throw yourself on your knees by his body.

“<I’m here,” you say breathlessly in High Valyrian. “I’m here.>”

You rip off the mask caging your face and tear away the headpiece off your head so he can see you. So he can be assured that it's really you.

“I’m here,” you whisper and press your hands over one of his bloody ones that he has pressed on the bleeding wound on his chest.

“You’re…here,” he strains to say between raspy and heavy breaths. “I thought Aemond wouldn’t let you come.”

You muster a strained laugh and shake your head. “He cannot tell me what to do. I came here to help our brothers.”

Jacaerys nods. “Mother was right…I was angry at you but she was right,” he mutters.

You glance at the arrows and know that you can’t pull them out. You know that much, so you just need help. You need a healer.

You look around for one. Maybe one rushed up ashore.

But all that you see is Astraea curling up around you and Jacaerys to protect you from any potential threat.

“Tell her…”

“Stop,” you snap at him and face him again. “Don’t, you will tell her yourself. You will.” You nod and move one hand off his chest to cup his face. “You have to hold on. Please Jace, please, please don’t leave me.”

His eyes water now, he can’t hold his tears back. “It…hurts,” he gasps for air and hisses as the arrows dig deeper into his flesh. “It hurts,” he lets you hear his vulnerability. He doesn’t hide his pain like he usually would so you wouldn’t worry, he’s honest and that makes your heart ache.

“I know,” you nod. “I know, but I cannot pull them out or they will bleed out more. Just hold on…” you trail off and look out desperately. “I need help! Please!”

“Listen to me,” he beckons your attention and uses his other hand to put it on top of yours. “Listen to me. Tell Mother I tried, okay? I really tried. And I’m sorry I let her down.”

Tears well in your eyes as your lips tremble.

“You did not let her down,” you try to assure him and stroke his cheek. “You didn’t. Just please, Jace,” you beg him. “Please hold on, we’re going home soon, okay? Me and you, I won’t leave again, just please hold on.”

Jacaerys nods weakly and tears of his own start to crawl out of his eyes.

“You know,” he heaves. “I-I..love you right?”

Agony starts to tear at your heart, but you keep trying to repeat the same words to yourself, “he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”

“I love you too,” you whisper and lean closer to him.

“It hurts,” he mutters again and his breathing turns more shallow indicating what’s to come, and pushing a part of you to speak mindlessly.

“We will meet again. Did you know that?”

The part of you that senses his end doesn’t let a word go unspoken. That part of you doesn’t let Jacaerys go without having him hear what you have to say; a last goodbye that you never got to share with Lucerys.

“I know,” he agrees with a tiny and pained smile tugging on his pale face. “I know.”

“I will look for you and Luke in every lifetime because, to me, you and him are the best brothers someone could have,” you speak sweetly as you stroke his face. “And I’m sorry for how I've acted lately, I’m sorry if you’ve felt alone, I really am.”

“It’s…okay,” he assures you and lifts his other hand to cup the one you have on his face. “You’re…here now.”

You nod softly and offer him a quivering smile. “We’ll meet again where the sea meets the edge of tomorrow.”

Jacaerys nods gently and holds your gaze as the corner of his lips attempts to pull on a wider smile.

Yet in his strained attempt, his eyes begin to dull, his hands that cup yours slowly go limp, and his lips slowly fall as a last breath escapes his lips, leaving him lifeless on the ground.

“Jace?” You cry out with ignorance to the truth even if it lies before you. “Jacaerys?”

His gaze once gleaming with tears is dull and lifeless. His shallow breaths don’t run anymore, he’s silent, deafening so, which only means one thing, but still, you can’t accept it. You can’t accept that you got to the Gullet too late to save your brother, so that part of you that once accepted the truth completely vanishes, leaving you trying to desperately get your brother to react; to take one more breath and live so he can hold on.

“Jacaerys?” You whimper and try to stroke his cheek. “Please, please, please. Don’t do this to me, please don’t leave me…we have to go home. Please let’s go home.” You come to a halt and wait for a reaction, just a single blink, but alas, he remains motionless, edging you to accept the truth, but not actually accept it yet. You first move your hand away from his face and shake him by the arm and chest.

“Jace! Jacaerys!” You cry out. “Jace?!”

Once again you wait, wait, and wait, but he doesn’t react in any way. He doesn’t blink and his chest doesn’t move. He’s there bleeding out and lifeless. He’s not breathing anymore, and his heart is no longer beating, no matter how many times you check not even a soft and weak ba-dum beats. He’s…lifeless. He’s gone, your brother, your little brother is gone, he’s…dead. And with him, the last fragments of your heart burn away and turn to nothing but ash that gets blown away here, where he died.

That’s why no heartbreaking sobs leave your lips. You don’t plead a moment longer. Astraea coos before her mournful song fills the air, while you stay quiet as you pull the arrows off his body and cradle him, letting your last stream of tears escape your weeping soul as you rock him back and forth against you until your legs fall asleep, your arms hurt, and Astraea unfurls her body.

“Jacaerys?” Another voice breaks through the silence without a snarl or a single snap of a jaw from Astraea, so it must be someone you trust.

“No…NO! NO!” Agonizing sobs pierce through the air, pulling you away from your brother's body to look over and notice Baela with streams of tears running down her soot-covered face.

At first, it seems she wants to make hundreds of excuses to deny the truth, but her mind works fast and breaks her heart even further by having her see that yes, Jacaerys really is dead. There’s no mistaking it, thus she breaks away from her spot and runs over to fall on her knees across from you.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can offer her before you let her take Jacaerys’ body so you can stand up and attempt to mount your dragon.

Yet before you can, you stop as you see Rhaena standing there with soot all over her face and hair as well, but completely unharmed.

“Rhaena,” you sigh with relief and stride over to her to throw your arms around her. “You’re okay,” you breathe out and clutch onto her.

And it’s while you’re hugging her that you see that little dragon again. This time the brown and pink dragon is on the ground, staring you down right across from you.

“Is that,” you gasp and pull away to face Rhaena. “Yours?”

Rhaena peers back briefly before she meets your gaze and nods. “Yes, that’s my dragon, Morning.”

Your eyes flutter as you’re hit with disbelief. “That’s…amazing,” you deal with your disbelief on the spot. “I’m proud of you,” you praise her and cup her cheek.

The corner of her lips twitch to smile but she can’t make the effort to offer you the kind gesture because of Jacaerys in the back.

“Do you know…” you trail off and drop your arm back to your side. “If Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey are okay?”

Rhaena eyes flicker down and she lets out a shaky sigh before she responds. “Tyraxes brought Joffrey to Dragonstone when their cog was attacked, he's the one that alerted everyone of what was happening. We could not find Aegon or Viserys. They…” she trails off and starts to cry, whilst your chest is hit with a sharp pang. Yet tears fail to break from your eyes. You’re just riddled with more grief and agony.

“I understand.” You nod stiffly and begin to walk back toward Astraea, pulling Rhaena’s attention back to you.

“Where are you going?” She throws out in confusion.

You swallow thickly and grab the rope ladder hanging down Astraea’s side. “Back to Aemond,” you mutter.

Rhaena takes a step forward to try and grab you but you pull your arm away to avoid her touch.

“Why?” She demands to know. “Your place is with the Queen! With us!”

You glance over at your brother, the sole reason why you would return to your mother's side. And he’s dead now. Your place is with Aemond now until your last breath or until his. That’s where you belong because no matter what just happened, that resentment toward your mother and Daemon is still very much lively and raging flames.

“No,” you deadpan as you take your chainmail headpiece and put it back on your head, along with the silver mask that cages your face. “My place is with Aemond.” You tell her coldly with no hint of sorrow in your voice, making her part her lips to argue.

However, you don’t wait to hear another piece of argument; you quickly mount your dragon, and Astraea doesn’t fret to ascend to the sky or make a sharp turn away from the Gullet to direct yourselves back to where Aemond is, back home. She flaps her wings and gets further away, foot by foot, and your gaze remains cold and set in the furious morning sky. Your body remains stiff, every blink is done slowly as if it’s too much strain, while your breaths are slow and deep, and not a single thought occupies your mind which makes it easy to mindlessly drop your gaze on your hands and lose yourself on nothing in particular.

Alas, when your eyes land on your hands you see the bright crimson blood staining them. There’s blood on your hands and when you lift them off the handles of your saddle to study them, you look at them in disbelief until at last a thought goes through your mind; It’s not your blood, it’s Jacaerys’ blood. The blood from his fatal wounds is staining your hands.

Your brother's blood is on your hands…he’s dead, and all you have besides memories is his blood.

A shuttered gasp escapes your lips, but rather than having tears return to your eyes, something painful unravels where your heart used to be instead. Something so vigorous, something so piercing, and throbbing, that with each pulse, the blood rushing through your veins pumps faster.

“This will cost Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys their only remaining child. And it will cost my daughter…her father.”

Your lips twitch before they start to curl into a scowl, while that cold and mindless gaze starts to spark a fierce fire in your eyes.

“He—it broke him to leave you and your brothers behind, but he also knew that I needed more than he could offer for our sake. He was selfless. He did it because he loved us, because he loved you.”

You gently shake your head in an attempt to shake away what’s building inside you, but nothing stops you from returning your hands to your saddle with a deadly, and nothing holds back the once slow and deep breaths from growing shallow and quicker.

“It’s…okay. You’re…here now.”

Jacaerys’ last words echo through your mind now and at last, you recognize what it is that plagues you so. It’s raging anger. It’s blinding and agonizing. It torments your very soul and sets it ablaze while setting this dire need for bloody revenge there where your heart once used to be.

That is what is making your breaths so shallow and quick, that’s what is pumping through your veins, and that’s what completely burns away the mercy you had and the kindness you held for everything in this world that wasn't those you cherished. It's all completely gone.

Who you once were is gone, and this new bloodthirsty self cannot leave without destroying those who were responsible for the death of your brother. Thus with a deep exhale you nudge the handles to the side, and Astraea makes a big turn to return toward the Gullet.

This time rather than remaining vigilant and careful Astraea flies low once she reaches the water again as your eyes dart around the watery battlefield in search of one ship; the commanding ship that holds the commander of the fleet, and Ser Tyland Lannister, the one who made the alliance.

Honestly, it should not be hard, usually, the commanding ship always has a different flag to differentiate them from the rest. And if not well you can’t imagine Ser Tyland staying back to fight with the men once the dragons joined the battle, so he should still be nearby. You just need to find the right ship.

All the other dragonriders that were fighting when you got here now seem to be retreating as the Triarchy fleet is fleeing, so they look back at you confused as Astraea and you fly past them, but to you, it’s not like they’re even there. Nothing steals your attention, you keep your eyes set on the fleeing fleet to search and search.

Once you get closer to the fleet, what’s left of the fleeing Triarchy is clearer, but so is the fact that you’re not there on peaceful terms. The Velaryon men were instructed not to attack you regardless of what side you came to fight for, but the Triarchy was not given the same command. They see you coming and panic returns to their bodies after thinking they would be able to flee unscathed.

You could hardly care about the fodder though. You're dead set on one ship, but as you cross the line and start to fly over the Triarchy fleet, they bring out crossbows and grapples. And it’s true, arrows from crossbows can’t harm Astraea, her scales are too thick now to be harmed by something so minuscule, and your armor protects the most significant parts of you, but those grapples are the same that took Vermax down, and they’re the same ones that could possibly take Astraea down.

That's why you pull out your bow and arrows and crouch over your saddle as you see men approach the starboard of their ships in an attempt to bring your dragon down, completely unaware of your counter antics. They don’t expect you to have a way to fight back, they don’t see their fates coming to an end until Astraea tilts to one side to let you aim at one man on your left side, and shoot him down with one arrow. The second man on your left side sees what befell the other man, but he doesn’t quit, so as Astraea is flying past, you twist around and let the arrow fly into his throat.

Once that threat is left behind, you face ahead hastily, and there leading the escape is the commanding ship. It’s still standing, just as you assumed, and so that vigorous anger only burns more fiercely. It’s a blinding thing, letting you easily forget about any sort of consequence this direct attack may have.

All that occupies your mind is anger and revenge. It’s consuming and agonizing. And for once it threatens to bring tears to your eyes, it makes your chest grow tight as that need fills you, but rather than letting any tears escape, you let out a blood-curdling and painful scream that carries so much deepened pain that Astraea feels it too. She feels it in her own heart, making her release her own ache by opening her mouth and letting out a shrieking cry before she blasts fire out and burns down the ships in the way of the commanding ship.

Now there’s no mistaking who you’re after, the people on the commanding ship know you’re hunting them. They’re your prey, and so they try to fight back to defend themselves as they’re at their weakest, but rather than hitting them straight on, Astraea dives in the water, leaving them paranoid as to where you’ll appear.

They run to every edge of the ship to look in the water, and you’re easy to find. Astraea is long, and it would be pretty hard to miss such a large beast swimming in the water. That's why they assume you’re coming out from the other side to burn them down from the front, that's why they take their eyes off the water and frantically point their aim at the empty space ahead.

However, you don’t go for an attack from the front, Astraea swerves to one side, and you completely catch them by surprise when you and your dragon jump out of the water like ravenous sea creatures after they’re prey.

The warriors on the ship are quick to fix their aim, one is even closer to hitting the trigger, but they don’t know you’ve trained hard, they don’t know how hard you’ve pushed yourself, so you leave them all completely shocked when you jump off your saddle and let an arrow fly out whilst you’re in midair.

When the arrow hits the attacker you hit the floor harshly and sloppily, but you’re quick to push yourself to your knees and throw your head up to pierce your glare at the warriors before you.

“Give me Ser Tyland,” you snarl. “And your commander.”

Glances are exchanged, but no one utters a word, breaths escape their mouths, but no matter how menacing you proved yourself to be, their greatest threat is Astraea, your dragon circling around to fly back toward the fleet.

“Have it your way,” you grumble and hang your bow around you to instead pull out the mighty Valyrian sword, Blackfyre from its sheath.

Now the stillness that once kept people stuck to their spots breaks and a woman sets herself after you. She’s tall with long dirty blond hair, a long face, and a small scar over her lips. She pulls out a curved blade and swings low to try and slash your thighs, but you surprise her by swinging the sword down and meeting her swing with a loud clash.

“You want me,” she speaks, revealing herself as the person you’re after. “Here I am, Princess,” she spats with a playful smirk.

You tilt your head to the side as you grimace, and then throw your foot out to hit her knees, causing her to drop her hold and wobble. You proceed to not let her rest, you try to swing at her side, but before you can make your move, hurried footsteps come at you from behind, so you hastily spin around whilst you reach back for an arrow.

When your gaze drifts to the corner of your eyes, you catch the attacker and hurl the arrow at his face as you’re turning, so when you face him completely the arrow caves in their face and puts him down.

All while the commander has the same thought process as you and proceeds to try and overwhelm you by swinging from behind, but you twirl back around and clash your sword against her blade.

The commander then lifts her blade and swings again and again, but you block her every single time and actually end up making her laugh. “What a surprise you are,” she says with awe and amusement. “Here I thought you Valyrians were all prissy cunts, but alas, here you are. I would have loved to have drinks with you.”

You huff at her ability to talk at a moment like now and don't even think of returning any of her lightheartedness. You use all your strength and shove her blade to the side, making her falter. You then try to lunge forward, but suddenly a hand grabs the back of your head, pulling the chainmail off your head, while they also grab the back of your neck and yank you back.

You react with a groan and grind your teeth as they keep pulling you back with confidence since your dragon is setting other ships ablaze, and or ripping them apart by jumping out of the water right from under them. Yet your attacker's confidence was blinding, and they perhaps did not trust you to think quickly, but you do. You spin the sword around in your hand; in the same way Aemond likes to do it, and then fold your arm back to impale the man in the eye.

The man then cries out and you pull the sword out before you shove them back with your elbow, and then spin around to slash their belly. When they hit the ground you should leave them be, but your rage sends you on top of them, and has you using their own blade to stab their face over and over again, making blood splash on your face again and again until it’s like another layer of skin.

You’re so consumed by what you’re doing that you forget where you are, only your pain accompanies you, it’s loud and tormenting. And unlike when you were throwing your clothes off the balcony, this time Aemond is not here to pull you out of your emotional state, you’re kicked to the ground, and that is what snaps you from your rageful trance.

When you look up, there, overshadowing you is the commander. She shoots you a smirk before she lifts her leg and quickly tries to bring her foot down. Before you can be slammed by her foot though, you roll over to the side where your sword is to take it from the ground, and then press your hands on the floor as you bring your legs back to be able to throw yourself forward and land on your feet.

The woman quickly turns to face you and swings her blade, but you throw yourself back to avoid her swing. In doing so though, a man runs at you from the side.

You quickly give him your attention and twist the sword around in your hand before you sprint at them. When you get close, rather than clashing blades, you suddenly slide down and lunge your sword up to impale them through their stomach and slash down until you swiftly twist around on your feet, and push yourself to your given height.

Another warrior then tries to rush at you, and they give you some trouble, but you near an edge and you manage to kick them overboard, leaving you only with more warriors, but for one man you swing the sword so hard that you manage to cut their head clean off their neck. And honestly, that leaves you enthralled and smiling maliciously, while you also seek more danger, more blood, and violence. You’re relishing in the adrenaline that runs through your veins, wanting more, getting more, but not feeling satisfied.

Which is why after defeating more men, you turn and point your sword at the commander. She flashes you a wide and menacing grin before you both break from your spot. However, since you have the high ground right now, you hop off the top of the stairs that you’re on and bring your sword down.

The commander tries to block your thrust, but you end up swinging the sword, making the tip of the blade slash her across the face, and causing her to fall on the ground grunting and clutching at their bleeding face.

“<I found you,>” you say in High Valyrian between heavy breaths once you’re standing on the floor. “<I'll have you.>”

You twist the sword around in your hand and try to thrust down, but through her pain, she rolls to one side and quickly scrambles herself off her feet to run away. You try to run after her, but she ends up throwing herself overboard, and you would walk to the edge to shoot her with an arrow, but a tall and buff older man blocks your way with two blades in his grasp.

“I’ll send the Sea Snake your head, Blood Dragon.” He throws at you as he points a blade at you. “We’ll prove the Sea Snake can weep.”

You snicker and lunge at him, but he doesn’t falter, he counters your action by swinging his blades down and clashing them against your sword. You try to push his blades up and away from you, but he challenges you with his strength and pushes back so hard that you start to slide back.

You then try to move your sword to the side, but he doesn’t let you move an inch, he doesn’t budge, he instead tries to unarm you, but you fight back. It might be challenging, you might be groaning, but you dig your heels in the floor and push back, causing the tip of your blades to scrape on a wooden pillar as you both press and move against each other.

However, as entertaining as this little game is, you know you can’t hold on longer. He’ll overpower you, so you bounce off a crazy stupid idea that just popped into your head. It’s stupid and sudden, but you don’t have another choice.

You let your sword fall from your grasp, hitting him with confusion, and making him stumble. Just before the sword can hit the ground like he thought it would, you swoop down and catch it before you thrust the sword up and impale him through his jaw so hard that the tip of the sword comes out of his head, and blood pours out all over you.

“Damn,” you cough and spit out blood that hits your lips whilst the man hits the floor—“Forgive me this has been hell,” you direct at the twins as you press your hand on your belly. “Don’t worry, your father will try and be angry, but he’ll also be too busy creaming his pants to do anything about it.” You strain a chuckle.

“Blood dragon!” Some stupid man interrupts you catching your breath, forcing you to slowly turn and face a brave man. “I won’t let you leave this ship.”

You hold their gaze and rather than preparing to counter his incoming attack, a wicked smile starts to tug on your lips as you see Astraea approaching from behind, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Mad cunt,” he spats and bends his knees to get ready to run at you, but a part of Astraea’s shadow then casts over him and he goes paralyzed as he immediately figures out what threat is lurking behind him. He doesn’t need to look back, he feels the hot steam of her breath unfurling over his back and all over the floor, yet he still starts to peer back with thick beads of nervous sweat dripping down his face, and sees that the same wicked smile playing on Astraea’s lips.

Now you don’t need to say it, Astraea knows your heart's desire, but you’re dramatic, so you part your lips and say the words almost seductively. “Dracarys.”

The man’s face goes white, and he tries to run, but Astraea is quick. The moment she opens her mouth she bathes the man in her raging flames that manage to kiss you.

The man wails out in pain and his body mindlessly moves around as he falls to his knees, letting him capture the horrifying sight of you not wincing or moving a single muscle as the flames touch you just enough that they should be piercing and skinning you alive. You just stand there with an even more malicious smile.

“<Fire…demon>,” he says in Valyrian with his last breath before he collapses on the floor.

You watch the skin and flesh melt off his bones with a cold and emotionless expression painted on your face, while Astraea swoops down and catches a man trying to sneakily jump off the ship.

When she has him in her jaws he begins to shriek as her large and sharp teeth pierce in him. He desperately cries out for your help, but only pulls your attention to him in the sky to watch him try and squirm away out of instinct as his body hangs over her jaw; in doing so annoying your dragon to the point that instead of burning him to eat him, she chomps down on him, making blood and pieces of flesh rain down on you as she flies by.

And rather than turning your head away, you close your eyes and welcome the rain of blood. You relish in it as if you were withered up and that rain of blood and flesh was the very salvation you needed.

When you open your eyes again and tilt your head down there in the distance is none other than the man you missed, Ser Tyland Lannister.

His eyes are unmistakably on you, wide and horrified by the vile display, but also caught in awe; that’s what leaves him paralyzed to the floor, you. Regardless of the fact that you’re trudging toward him with the tip of Blackfyre scraping against the wooden floor, he can’t make himself move because he sees you walk through that violent dragon fire without a single wince, or cry. It’s as if the very dooming fire bowed to your feet, like if your flesh was fire made like a dragons; it made you captivating, alluring, and otherworldly ethereal. Much more than any other Targaryen he’s ever met before.

Alas no matter how much he wanted to keep watching this almost demonic display, you make it out of the fire with a wicked smile only aimed at him and he knows with that menacing look alone that you will not hesitate to slay him like you did almost everyone else on this ship. So he doesn’t even attempt to try and fight back, not with your dragon circling back around. He runs into the cabins instead.

You chuckle dryly and change your trudge into a quiet stride that makes you almost like some haunting ghost. But that’s it, almost, your breaths are heavy and that’s what gives you away when your footsteps don’t.

Yet it’s not like you care that he hears you. You want him to hear you coming, your heart races with excitement at the fact that he’s scared and running away from you like some scared prey.

“Ser,” you call out in a sing-song voice in such an alluring way that it makes that Siren alias all too fitting. “Ser.”

You push a wooden door open with the tip of your sword and slowly trudge in about halfway. When you see that the cabin is abandoned you continue with your search, looking from cabin to cabin until you come across a locked room.

“Ha,” you breathe out and step back to swing the sword across the door and make a long slash across the wood. You proceed to make another and another until there's a large enough gap that you can see through. After that you approach the door and peek inside, catching the valiant knight inside like some cornered rat.

“There you are,” you roll out and flash him a wicked smile before you back away and make a last slash across the door so you’re able to walk through it.

“We’re on the same side,” he throws out nervously as you stomp toward him.

“Are we?” You retort and twist the sword around in your hand.

Confusion flickers on his face before his eyes widen and he scoffs. “You’re one of them. A black.”

You stop walking and fold your arm back to hang the sword over your shoulder and tilt your head. “No,” you don’t hesitate to say. “Wrong again.”

You roll your head back to place and slowly tilt it down. “You,” you grimace with a piercing glare that burns through the windows of his soul as you refuse to lose your prey from your sights. “…you killed Jacaerys,” you finally announce the meaning behind your fury, and as you stand there across from him a soft beam of sunlight peeking through a round window catches on your face, letting him see how the blood that rolls down your cheeks like tears gleams against the sunlight.

“And now,” your voice quivers. “I am going to kill you.”

The corner of your lips curl to a scowl seconds before you lunge forward, but come to a halt when he meets your lunge with a block.

You grunt and push yourself back to swing at his side, but a sharp cling echoes in the room as the metal from your swords sings.

“I did not kill the Prince,” Ser Tyland tries to explain, and you know that. You know that, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters besides trying to satisfy the anger that’s eating away at your soul.

Which is why you throw swing after mighty swing and grow even more frustrated over the fact that he keeps blocking and countering you. You want him dead, you want to feel like you got some sense of justice to try and ease what’s growing inside you, but he keeps evading and blocking your every move to the point that when you bring your arms back to throw another swing at him, you leave yourself open, letting him use his foot to kick your chest.

When you hit the ground you let out a sharp cry and quickly swipe your sword off the ground, but Ser Tyland falls over you to straddle you and clash his sword against yours.

“I will not hurt or kill you,” he says between pants.

You scoff. “<Because you’re scared,>” you snap back in High Valyrian. “<The Prince Regent won’t be forgiving when he hears you were responsible for my death.>”

Ser Tyland swallows back nervously and looks at you confused as he doesn’t understand what you’re saying to him. You just sound mad.

“<Do it.>” You snarl. “Do it!” You yell in the common tongue in an almost inviting manner. “Do it!” You cry out.

Ser Tyland parts his lips, but as he does the door from the wardrobe in the corner rattles before it slightly opens.

You slide your eyes to the door and there in the shadows you see a glimpse of golden-silver hair before you make out who was hidden inside. It’s your brother, Aegon.

And Ser Tyland knew. That’s why he came in here, to use him against you, or take him. Either or, you drift your gaze to Ser Tyland and grimace before thrusting your knee up to hit his groin.

Ser Tyland groans and falters letting you push him off you and then quickly follow up by kicking him in the face so hard that he passes out.

“Aegon,” you call out in a complete change of tone and demeanor; from rageful and menacing to soft and reassuring. “Aegon come out.”

You return the sword to its sheath and reach the wardrobe to open the door and let him know it’s okay, it’s just you, his sister. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s just me.”

Aegon takes a look at your face and his bottom lip trembles as his eyes fill with fear and tears.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you try to assure him. “Come so you can go to Mother.”

He hears that last word and his attention perks.

“Mama?” He mumbles and wipes his eyes.

You nod softly and approach him to carry him away with you as you return to Ser Tyland's unconscious body and grab him by the collar to drag him out with you.

“You’ll be okay,” you continue to try and comfort your little brother. “You’ll go home soon.”

“Home,” he repeats.

You hum and offer him a tiny smile before nuzzling your forehead against his cheek as a wave of reassurance hits you over the fact that even if no one could find Viserys, you found Aegon. Not a lot may matter to you right now, but finding Aegon matters.

Is feeling the relief of finding your brother enough to return you to your mother’s side? No, it isn’t, but you’ll hand him to Rhaena or Baela, they can take him home.

With that in mind, you walk back outside, and the first thing you’re welcomed with is Astraea hovering over the burning ship as she waits for you.

“You need to hang on,” you advise Aegon. “It will just be a short ride, okay?”

Aegon looks at you and utters, “Aeri.”

You chuckle. “No, Aerion is not here, but perhaps you will see him soon.”

Aegon lays his head on your shoulder and when you reach the ladder hanging from Astraea’s saddle you let Ser Tyland go to hold onto the ladder with a tight grip.

You don’t climb to your saddle because one, it would be hard doing so with a toddler on your hip, and two, what’s the point when it’s a short ride to land? So you just hang onto the ladder and Astraea takes flight, but not without snatching Ser Tyland off the floor with her feet first.

When you reach land, Astraea discards Ser Tyland on a patch of grass before she lands near Seasmoke and lets you hit the ground where you’re greeted by both Rhaena and Baela, who both sport red and puffy eyes now after crying so much.

“Take Ser Tyland to Rhaenyra, or your father, or leave him here, I do not care, just take Aegon home,” you direct at the twins as you glance over at Addam departing himself from Seasmoke and slowly looking at your blood-covered figure up and down.

“What happened to you?” Rhaena asks with concern and disbelief. “Are you alright?”

“Rhae!” Aegon points out before he pulls away from you to throw his arms out to garner her attention.

“I’m alright,” you deadpan and steal another glimpse at Addam and can’t offer him a kind or even a faint smile, the thought of him stealing your son's title as heir plagues your mind, making you roll your eyes away from him with disgust.

“Viserys?” Baela asks whilst Rhaena takes Aegon from your hold.

“I only found Aegon,” you speak quietly and with a hint of disappointment and sorrow in your voice. “Take him home and be careful, okay?”

You turn to return to your dragon, but once again the same question as before is thrown out. “Where are you going? Are you not going home?” Baela is the one who asks now.

This time you don’t stop what you’re doing to face either of them. You continue striding toward your dragon while ignoring Addam and mutter back. “I am going home.”

——

*LATER*

They had moved while you were gone. Not far, but they still did, making you fly low over the treetops until you manage to find the green dragon, Vhagar, hidden amongst all the greenery.

When you land and hit the ground, rustling behind you puts you on guard as if you were still fighting on that ship. So you swiftly pull the sword out of the sheath before you spin around and press the blade against your armguard to point the blade at the threat.

Once the lurker comes out of the shadows of the forest a heavy breath leaves your lips when you see that it’s just Aemond.

When your husband sees you he finds his breath caught in his throat when his eyes land on your blood-covered figure, puffy eyes, and cold and distant look. You couldn’t see it, you haven’t looked at a mirror or any reflection, but this heavy sullen look paints your face, letting him know that what you lived while you were away was anything but pleasant.

The way you roll your shoulders back to bring your arms down from their defensive position, and the way you avert your gaze to avoid looking at his current emotions only proves that further.

“Rhaena bonded to a wild dragon,” you share in the same bitterness that has taken control of your face. “Viserys is dead, and…” you trail off and get close to him, but as his eye falls heavy on you, you still look distant. “…Jacaerys,” the name makes your lips tremble. “Is dead.” You breathe out deeply and walk away without hearing a word of what he most likely had planned since he found out you left. You just don’t want to argue, he’s mad, you know, you don’t need to look at his face or hear him to know. It will only be the same argument, so you just walk away, making Aemond trail behind you.

Once you reach the camp, everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at your bloody and shell-shocked figure striding toward your tent. No one says anything; no one dares. They all just stare and share the same disbelief and slight chill that crawls down their necks. When you approach your tent the first person who dares to get a word across is your sworn protector.

“Princess,” he gasps and slowly walks after you. “Are you alright?”

“Quite,” you deadpan and don’t give him the time of day, you just go in your tent to find your privacy there.

Aemond quickly tries to storm in after you to throw out his argument that he’s been building up since you arrived, but he’s stopped by a strong hand before he can open the flaps of his tent.

“Stop.”

Aemond twists his head to the side and sees that it’s his uncle who dared to stop him in his wrath. “She does not need to be yelled at right now. She needs her friend, husband, not a commander.”

Aemond narrows his gaze to a glare and curls his lips to a snarl. “She’s my wife, I may talk to her as I please. Why do you not mind your own business, uncle,” he spats spitefully and shoves past him to enter the tent, finding you seated on a wooden chair and starting to undo the braids drenched in dry blood.

“I know you’re upset,” you break the silence in an exhausted tone. “I left and I’m sorry, so please…just don’t say anything…I don’t feel like arguing. Besides,” you let out a shaky sigh. “I’m not leaving again…there’s nothing to go back to.”

Aemond stays stuck by the entrance and watches with his lips parted after you completely stole the breath he was going to use to argue.

He is going to walk back out, but he does remember what his uncle tried to suggest just moments ago and instead goes out to grab a bowl of water, making you slouch in your seat and frown as you think he just left to not be with you.

However, a couple of minutes pass by before Aemond returns to the tent, grabs another chair, places it in front of you to take a seat, and gently starts to wipe the dry blood off your face with warm water, making you immediately pause what you’re doing to look at him with a soft and thankful gaze whilst butterflies flutter in your stomach, and your cheeks grow warm.

Nothing is shared though, not your thanks, and he doesn’t ask what happened. He can already sort of imagine what happened by what you told him when you arrived, by your bloody state, and the bloody sword. Yet neither of you mind the silence, it’s not filled with anger or tension. The silence that sits in this tent is comforting and peaceful. You feel embraced without the need of his arms and feel appreciated and loved without the confirming words. Especially when he starts helping you undo your braids.

Still albeit after a while, as a bath is getting drawn for you, you can’t help but finally fill that silence. “You should have seen me, you would have been impressed.”

Aemond lifts his gaze to meet your eyes already on him and a faint smile twitches on his thin lips. “I do not doubt it. Look at you. Not a scratch on you.”

A smirk pulls on your lips and the warmth now creeps all over your face.

“How was the sword?” He asks.

You sigh proudly. “Lighter than I imagined. Sharper too, I cut a man’s head clean off his neck.” You grin and turn, making the braid Aemond was undoing slip from his fingers. “They called me Blood Dragon and Fire Demon,” you share proudly and with a small giggle that can’t make Aemond mad, the corner of his lips twitch up.

“And,” you add enthusiastically. “Astraea and I jumped out of the water, and I managed to land a hit from the air.” You share and try to motion your actions with your hands. “Like I jumped off and landed a hit.”

Aemond hums softly and you turn back around to continue undoing your braids, and letting Aemond continue to help.

“You should have told me you were going,” he manages to finally find the moment to at least get that across. “You can’t just leave like that.”

You sigh and your smile slowly falls. “I know, but would you have let me go otherwise?”

Aemond stays quiet and you find your answer in his silence.

“I overheard about the Triarchy, and my brothers getting in the way, and I…had to do something. Not like my efforts mattered either way,” you mutter coldly now which is such a fast switch from that honey and excitement in your voice just now. “I was late.”

Aemond watches your face and catches the flicker of rage and agony dancing in your eyes like wildfire, letting him know that this first battle you just fought in was just a mere taste of blood for you. You want to feast in it, he sees that hunger taking root within you. And who would he be if he denied you such pleasantries?

Like him, you will gorge in it.

But until then, once your braids are undone, once all the pearls and rings that decorated your hair are gone, and the armor you donned is off and your gown is on the floor, you dip in the bath and feel as if a weight lifted off you as you wash off all the blood.

“Have you heard anything of Daeron?” You ask Aemond as he sits by the bathtub.

Aemond sighs. “He fought in his first battle and was knighted, Ser Daeron the Daring.”

You blink with surprise and slowly turn to fold your arms over the bathtub and look at Aemond with a playful look. “When will they knight you?”

His eyes fall and a timid smile grows on his face. “That does not matter to me. You know that.”

“Ser Aemond the Sapphire,” you tease, causing his eyes to snap to you—“Ser Aemond…the Prince Regent.”

A laugh escapes past his mouth and you can’t help but laugh with him.

“That,” he breathes out and looks at you with a softened look. “Does not matter to me.”

You hum and reach your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his, making him lean in closer to you.

“Are you okay?” He finally asks.

You blink repeatedly as you try to fight the lump that begins to form in your throat and you can’t keep away. You can’t stop your chest from tightening either. You’re consumed by his genuine concern and you can’t lie even if that’s what you want.

Yet you don’t utter a word, but it doesn’t matter. Even though you can’t form a single word to express what you feel, he knows and cups your face right away to gently caress your cheeks.

You lean into his warm and soft touch and bask in it for a lingering moment before you reach over and take his eyepatch off to look at him as he is.

Aemond watches you longingly before he presses a gentle kiss on the heel of your hand, making your lips tug to a soft smile before it disappears as you wrap your arms around him to take him in for an embrace you immediately melt into. One Aemond doesn’t mind. Even if your body is dripping, he welcomes your embrace and returns it, making sure to press a kiss on your head and caress the back of your head before he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, and you do the same with him.

There are so many things you want to say, so many things that you want to let out of your chest at this specific moment, but all those kind words are shared in your loving embrace, in the kisses you press against his flesh, and in the way you cling onto him like you’re afraid he will die in your arms like your brother did.

You almost don’t want to let go of the soul you hold, you want to keep embracing the love of your life forever, but nothing is forever and the embrace cannot be forever, so after a long while you let go of each other. And after a while of just Aemond and you finding solace in each other's presence, when you’re clean and in a new and elegant black gown you find yourself in a meeting. One not so pleasant by the look on Ser Criston’s face.

“We lost Lord Jason Lannister,” he announces with his head down, but as serious as it’s meant to be, you snicker.

“And so the mighty lion is no more. I suppose having those lions in the field did not save him after all,” you comment, making Aemond snicker in amusement, and Ser Criston Cole to slowly lift his head and look at you with a pointed glare.

“I have received some conflicting reports,” he pauses and looks at you up and down. “It's said Ser Tyland was seen being taken by a dragon from a burning ship.”

You slowly roll your eyes his way and follow him as he stands up straight and begins to walk around the wooden table in the middle of the room.

“And that the men on the commanding ship were brutally slaughtered, and the Commander was maimed as they were sailing away after they retreated and won the battle,” he says through gritted and snaps his eyes to you.

You rest your arms on the chair's armrest and lift your nose in the air as you offer him a proud smirk you don’t feel ashamed of. You relish hearing the report and take it as a job well done, especially because they made the report travel here so fast.

“Princess, you were there,” Ser Criston finally drifts the spotlight to you hoping you would feel belittled and ashamed, or feel some kind of guilt, but you keep smirking. “Why not give some insight.”

You hum and hold his gaze. “It was me,” you confess proudly. “Astraea and I killed those men on that ship. I slashed the Commander's face, and I was the one who delivered Ser Tyland to the enemy.”

Eyes fall on you and Aemond starts to grow tense over your confession, but you don’t flinch or show remorse. Your gaze is cold, and your voice is filled with a sense of cockiness and that same coldness that was playing in your eyes.

“I attacked them because it was what felt right, because it was what I wanted,” you say with a hint of honey oozing in your voice, making a faint smile flicker on Aemond’s lips.

“They are our allies,” Ser Criston sounds frustrated. “They will take your attack as personal and pull back.”

You scoff. “There were hardly any of them left. The other dragonriders almost eradicated the entire fleet,” you explain even if you really shouldn’t. “I just attacked the commanding ship because they made me angry.” You shrug and Ser Criston scoffs and shakes his head.

“Both sides took heavy losses,” Aemond finally cuts in. “We still have the rest of our fleet on the way. The Princess Regent actually did us a favor by killing what remained of them.”

You blink in surprise and can’t help but steal a glance at him. You suspected that Aemond was going to be mad because of what you did, but he honestly surprised you.

“We don’t need them anymore, and the Princess took them off our backs before they could try and be greedy and ask for some reward.”

Ser Criston turns away furiously after not getting support from your husband, making you smile at the tabletop before you lift your head and find Aemond’s eyes on you. Not with a hint of some hidden anger, but flames of desire. And you can't help but mirror the same look in your eyes before you focus on Ser Gwayne as he walks toward Ser Criston.

“Our own fleets will arrive shortly and destroy what remains of the Velaryon fleet,” Ser Gwayne offers some consolation. “As of now we must continue forward and attack the army Prince Daemon cultivated. If we start tonight we shall arrive by first light,” he says and points to the map. “Aemond and the Princess will remain here and join us the following day.”

Aemond nods. “He will be anticipating our arrival with the army after he saw Astraea. Going the day after guarantees him being vigil all day as he anticipates us. We will catch him by surprise.”

Ser Criston shakes his head. “And if he is not there because he saw Astraea?” He spats and shoots daggers at you. “The plan was for you not to be seen,” he points at you. “It was a scouting task—”

“If he’s not there then he’s a coward who ran,” Aemond cuts him off as he tilts his head and starts to return his glare. “It's not that complicated,” he mocks him, making Ser Criston look away and clench his jaw.

“Now if it’s not complicated for you Ser, you should start getting ready to head out,” Aemond adds and stands from his seat. “Night is approaching.”

You hide your smirk and Ser Criston bows without bothering to look at his Prince. He just proceeds to leave.

“Princess. Nephew,” Ser Gwayne offers his goodbye along with a proper bow.

“Good luck in battle, Ser,” you offer him kindly while you take Aemond’s hand so he can help you to your feet.

“Thank you, Princess,” he says with a smile before he heads out, letting you face Aemond as you're left alone.

“Thank you for having my back,” you interject, making Aemond let out a deep sigh and stroke your chin as he looks at you with a half-lidded gaze that lights your entire body ablaze, and makes you lean in to close the gap with a kiss. However, he then tilts his head away like a tease and slides his thumb up to brush it over your bottom lip.

You take in a deep breath as you hold his gaze and then lean your head down to part your lips and slowly close them around the tip of his thumb. When he feels the warmth and wetness of your mouth he grins before he drags his thumb down as he can’t resist you a moment longer, he leans in and slams his lips over you.

You quickly wrap your arms around his neck without breaking contact. You then drag him to the table where he proceeds to push you against the end before he hooks his hands on the back of your knees and lifts you up to sit you on the edge. To secure him against you, you wrap your legs around his waist and lose your hands in his long blond-silver hair to ball some in your hands and pull him even closer to you.

When you pull back for air neither of you take too long apart, neither of you want to lose touch out of fear you will lose yourselves if you don’t keep your mouths connected and moving sloppily yet in sync with each other. If you stay too far apart you fear being too cold, so neither of you stray far. When you rip his clothes off he stays in between your legs, and when he pulls your gown off you stay on the table to make sure you reconnect quickly, like reconnecting a piece of a puzzle to complete the beautiful art.

That’s what your souls are like, two pieces of puzzle that fit perfectly together, that belong together. Separate them and the puzzle can never be completed, they can connect with others, but…the puzzle will always be lacking one or the other.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

You dreaded the morning because it meant you had to live the next day. You had to get out of the comfort of Aemond’s warm embrace as he slept away with his head on your chest, and his arm lazily hooked around your waist.

Waking up meant having to move forward and join the army of men in Harrenhal to fight Daemon. You want to stay here and keep hearing the birds singing on the branches. You want to keep smelling the fresh scents of nature—albeit the rain is something you don’t mind leaving.

You just don’t want to live throughout the day. You want to remain in bed forever in your husband's arms and blanketed by his vulnerable and nude body. Why can't you just stay here in your tent with Aemond? Why do you have to get up?

Alas, you get up, making sure not to wake Aemond to let him sleep in while he can and while he’s not being pestered or waited on. You throw on a black gown that has Aerion’s swamp green Shrykos embroidered around the skirt curtsy of Helaena, and then don a golden breastplate before you walk out with your bow and arrow.

“Come, Ser Jason,” you tell the knight who stayed behind to protect you and Aemond.

“Wh-where are we heading?” He stammers out as he gets up from the log he was on and quickly trails after you, leaving the campfire unintended. “What of the Prince?”

You disregard his fear of Aemond and quickly try to assure him—or more so brush him aside. “I’m letting him sleep in while I go hunt for our breakfast. Besides I left a note of where we’ll be if we haven't returned by the time he wakes.”

“But—”

“Relax, we won’t be gone long, the creak is not far.”

You hear Ser Jason’s lips part, but he just bites his tongue and follows your hurried pace to the creak a few clicks down north. When you arrive to the rushing creak you miss Ser Jason’s panic as you carelessly hop down large rocks to reach the creak’s bed.

“Princess—”

You throw your hand up to shush him and carelessly step in the water without caring that the end of your gown was getting soaked, or that your boots were dipped in the cold water.

“You’ll scare the fish if you’re loud,” you whisper and carefully align your arrow as you lock your eyes on a fat silverfish.

“I could hunt for you if fish is what you require,” Ser Jason whispers sharply so he can be heard from the high ground.

You track the fish with your eyes as it starts to swim away and shake your head to not leave the man ignored as you hold your bottom lip between your teeth before you let the arrow fly out.

When the arrow hits the fish and leaves it motionless in an instant, Ser Jason claps.

“Thank you,” you respond to his praise as you reach over and pick up the arrow that has the fish clung to it. “And no need, I can hunt on my own. Just two more and we can head back.”

You proceed to hunt and catch another fish when it comes to the third and last one, you don’t struggle to find it. You let the arrow go, but all it does is scrape the fish because it seems to be too smart for its own good and swims away, leaving behind a trail of blood in the water that you follow as you quickly pull out a fourth arrow.

Once you have it cornered you let the arrow go and this time you manage to kill it, making you grin and whisper a small, “yes,” to yourself before you run over and collect your trophy.

However, it’s when you’re holding the arrow in your hands that the fish slips off the tip, making you quickly reach out to catch it, and getting your hands stained with its blood that leaks out of the gash you left.

Normally you don’t mind blood. Just yesterday you were covered in it, but right now as you see the blood on your hands your mind plays a cruel trick on you by flashing the memory of Jacaerys dying in your arms, and your hands stained in his blood.

You see him there in the creak, floating lifelessly in the water, his eyes rolled back, and his fatal wounds bleeding out and staining the creak.

You remember him, his last breath, and the red blood on your hands flashes in your mind again and again and again, taking your breath from your chest, and leaving you paralyzed.

You want to snap out from the trance your mind has you under, but he won’t go away, and the blood won’t stop flashing. You want to breathe, you want to get away, but tears well in your eyes, your hands begin to tremble, and you’re there again watching your brother die, getting covered in his blood without the ability to bring him back to life or heal those fatal wounds. All you can do is watch him until your world is red and rage begins to seep through.

Rage you bring forth to pull yourself out of your trance. Once the vision of your brother's corpse is gone from the water, you crouch to very harshly wash the blood off your hands and then head back to camp with that excitement gone and rage now twisted on your face.

Ser Jason notices, he wants to speak up about it many times, but he fears upsetting you further, so let’s the silence mingle until you’re the one who breaks it. “Do you have any siblings Ser?”

Ser Jason blinks and gapes in disbelief, thinking your voice is some mind trick until you peer back at him and press your question with a lift of your brows.

“N-no,” he shakes his head. “None, just me.”

You hum. “You’re lucky then,” you mumble but he doesn’t catch what you say, your words get lost in the sky as you look away to watch the grey clouds rumbling overhead.

“I did…” he trails off and sighs. “Love someone like they were my sibling. She died though, just before she could leave and see some of the world she wanted to see.”

You blink and lower your gaze to watch your path ahead. “How?” You ask.

Ser Jason hesitates to answer, but he doesn’t deny you the knowledge of knowing what you asked for. “Killed by someone important who covered up her death.”

You nod stiffly and let out a deep breath that is followed by quiet words full of rage. “Then you know what it feels like…to want to burn the world because it took them away from you.”

Ser Jason parts his lips and stares at you in disbelief. He’s felt anger, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t still upset, but the kind of rage you express just now with what you said is something he can’t relate to. If he’s being honest what you said scares him to the point he can’t follow up with anything else that would feel right to say. That and what if he says something that upsets you? So he stays quiet instead and wonders if the reason you returned to camp all bloody is because of a brother you speak so gloomily about. After all, he knows you have brothers, he knows Queen Rhaenyra has a lot of children, and that you lost a brother at the start of this war, so this new rage he hadn’t heard you express before must be due to why you were gone.

He doesn’t want to ask if it’s true, he fears your reaction with how upset you already sound, so he just keeps quiet. Besides, he can’t really ask more even if he had the balls to because you walk away faster, as if trying to escape the topic from developing any further, leaving the rest of the walk back to camp tense and awkward, and leaving you like the brewing storm passing overhead.

That is until you reach camp and see Aemond out stoking the fire.

“Look!” You announce and show off the fish you caught. “Breakfast. I wanted to have it done before you woke up, but…”

“I heard you when you left,” he finishes for you, making you grin before you skip over to his side in front of the fire.

“Well then now I guess I’ll show you how it’s done,” you interject and plop yourself down on the log. “Just so whenever you find yourself alone or lost somewhere you can make your own food.”

He scoffs. “I can make my own food,” he mumbles, pulling your eyes to him, and making you flash him a teasing smile.

“Okay, sure my Prince,” you tease him and yank a fish off an arrow.

Aemond watches the way you handle the fish as if you have done this multiple times and can’t help but probe. “Where did you learn how to skin a fish?”

Your smile falls and you tilt your head away before you give him a short and stiff answer. “My father.”

Aemond hums and then sits down beside you to put his hands over yours and take over what you’re doing.

You try to fight him, but he’s stubborn and overpowers you.

“I wanted to make some breakfast for you.” You mumble and rest your chin on your hand, making Aemond chuckle.

“I’m being serious!” You exclaim and throw yourself on his side to fix his hand's position before you rest your chin on his shoulder and watch him do what you were just doing. “We’re alone…kind of, and I wanted to take advantage of it. After this, who knows when we’ll be alone like this again.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a moment,” he tries to assure you, but you aren’t reassured whatsoever.

“Where did you even learn how to skin a fish?” You retort and tilt your head to the side to lay your head on his shoulder instead.

“A book,” you both say in sync since you know the only way he would’ve learned how to do this is from a book. He’s a book nerd.

“Hm,” Aemond hums in reaction to you knowing what he was going to say, and you can’t help but laugh and then lean in to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Well thank you I suppose. You took over what I wanted to do, but it’s nice. I enjoy seeing you get your hands dirty.” You grin, and he stops what he’s doing to turn his head and meet your gaze with a serious look.

You keep smiling at him and whisper against his lips. “The twins and I anticipate your cooked fish.”

He hums and he can’t beat down the smile that spreads on his features.

“Maybe you should cook for us more often,” you tease as he continues. “And maybe we should do stuff like this more often after the war. Even if you end up being King, hm?”

Aemond stiffens for a second and doesn’t react or respond with anything, he just stays still, watching nothing in particular until a raindrop hits your hand and you rip away from him to look at the sky in horror.

“No,” you complain, and as if in retaliation the rain comes down harder—“No! It’s raining!” You whine and stand on your feet to be closer to the damn sky and glare at it.

“We can finish inside the tent,” Aemond offers some reassurance, but to someone who’s already upset, this mishap just finds a way to tear you down.

“Come on,” Aemond urges you and grabs your hand, but you drop your head and stay put, causing your hand to slip from his hold.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper over the pattering rain. “I’m sorry.”

Aemond puts down what he has in his hand and turns to approach you and grab your hands to tilt your face up so you can meet his gaze.

“I,” you part your lips. “I know why we’re out here, I know what we have to do, but I still wanted to make the most of the time we have alone, and now…” you trail off and shake your head. “It's ruined. I’m sorry.”

Aemond glances up, letting raindrops fall on his face before he looks down and leans in closer. “It’s just rain,” he says sweetly. “It’s just water.”

Raindrops roll down your cheeks, but tears don’t fall from your eyes. You frown deeply and your eyes droop, expressing a great sorrow that fails to bring tears to your eyes, but if you look closely, like he is, you would see your soul weeping.

“You’re here,” he takes his turn to whisper against your lips. “That’s all that matters to me. You’re here with me, that’s all I care about.”

“Yeah?” You ask for reassurance, and he nods softly.

“Yeah.”

You let out a shaky sigh and even shakier words. “I love you Aemond, and there’s never a day where I’m not grateful that you’re with me,” you share from the depths of your soul as if you feared something, he just can’t quite figure out what yet. He just hears that fear in your voice. “Because if you weren’t here, I would have burned the world and I would’ve disappeared with it.”

“Don’t say that,” he presses sharply, but you don’t regret a word because it’s what you know you feel.

“People I love are getting taken away from me. My mother lied to me, and my father left and died,” you continue sharing as if time is running out and this is the last moments you have together. “But I still have you. You’re all I need, you’re all I want, you’re the only person I trust in this world.”

His breath shudders, and his eyes are quick to fill with tears as your words ache his heart in the best way possible.

“You’re all I ever desired. You are all I want and need and love with every part of me, of who I am, who I was, and who I will be in this lifetime and any other I find myself in,” he whispers as he presses his forehead against your damp one, making the pouring rain now fall over your joined heads. “You occupy my every dream and every inch of my heart.”

You laugh softly and cup his jaw to caress his cheeks. “<I love you, Aemond. Selfishly. All my love belongs to you. You…are my morning and evening star,>” you share your intimate and love-filled words in your native tongue.

“<I love you too,>” he doesn’t hesitate returning those same feelings in the same tongue, making you hold his awe-struck gaze for a lingering moment before you wrap your arms around him, and pull him in a tight embrace, letting him know at that moment as he returns your embrace and kisses your cheek, what it is you feared.

You fear this being your last moments together. You fear that this is the last second you have and the last breaths you’ll take together. The thought of this moment in time being the last one you have together frightens you.

What a foolish fear.

A/N- :) Harrenhal is comin!!!

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