Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

In a world where her family was the only one capable of wielding dragons, she was far more interested in soulmarks and their mythology. She had known her whole life that she was to have a dragon one day, to bond with one, as was her birthright. It came naturally ; as simple and factual as the idea that the sun would rise on the morrow. A dragon egg was put in her cradle as a babe, and it hatched to reveal her lovely life-companion, Lyrax.

But to get a soulmark was something rather rare and all the more exciting.

Soulmarks were the product of an ancient magic. They were said to have appeared for the first time to the Conqueror and his sisters during the Conquest, and had since spread to the entire population. She was fascinated by their looks, their shapes, their alignment with the human anatomy, whenever they appeared. She remembers stroking her grandsire's only soulmark for hours on end when he held her during supper. It was a dove, etched on the inner part of his forearm. She had never asked, but it was common knowledge that his mark represented his late wife Aemma. No other soulmark ever appeared on him, even when his next wife, Alicent, bore him 4 children and cared for him in his ailing years. She supposes that explained a lot about her mother's other siblings and the strained bond they had.

Her mother had four soulmarks. It was unusual, but not all soulmarks were romantic, as it was often stated.

She had an anchor and a sailor's knot on her wrist. That, she knew was for Laenor, her father. He himself had a ruby ring etched on his hand, and it was her mother's actual wedding ring he had given her. The realm could spread gossip however they wanted about her mother's former marriage, but she knew that theirs was a union of love. Laenor had held them all, taken care of them, given them his name, his fortunes and his protection, taught them sailor's chants and how to swim, and he had loved them, her and Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey. It was not the conventional type of love, but her parents had been soulmates.

Hidden on her mother's hip, was a tree with strong roots. This was a soulmark only seen in the confines and the privacy of their family's quarter, and only her siblings and her knew of it. It was like a dirty secret, that her mother held the Strong House family sigil on her body. It was the dead tree found in the courtyard of Harrenhall, where Sir Harwin Strong had been raised. They never talked about it, but she didn't need any explanation. She herself had also loved Sir Harwin, strongly so. He used to spar with her whenever he could and carry her wherever she wanted to go. He brought her chocolate cake from the kitchen each time she cried and he had taught her many stories of Harrenhall, his family's stronghold. He was gone before she could realize who he was to her, a loss as bitter as the one of the father whose name she took after.

Her mother had Caraxes spread all over her left collarbone, and no mark could ever rival with that one. No mark could be as telling as this one, no mark could ever scream Daemon as much as this one. He himself, had Syrax engraved from his shoulder to his elbow. So even if she was quite reluctant with a wedding so soon after losing both her father figures, she knew it was unnecessary to fight on this one. Daemon still cared for them in his own way. He wasn't the protective nor affectionate type, but his stare only taught them more than they could hope to learn by themselves. He wasn't distant, he just knew when to be present for them. And she rarely needed him, so he never really bothered, except for the swordmanship classes, which he forced everyone, girls and boys, to take.

Her mother's last soulmark was behind her neck near her scalp. She also hid this one often, and she had never known who it was for. But from the look of it, it was her oldest soulmark. It was a green flower, one she had never seen with her own eyes.

Rhaelle knew of her mother's dalliances, and some may say four was quite a number for soulmates, but she wasn't ashamed of that. She thought it so much more respectable, to have known love, and to have been marked for it. She was proud to be a product of a love between soulmates. She couldn't wait to have one herself. So when her soulmark appeared, she couldn't be more confused.

She had been eight. It came a week after the events on Driftmark, after a fever that had left her in a nightmarish daze for days. She had slain her uncle Aemond and caused him irreparable harm. But it was to protect her brothers. She had no regrets. She did the right thing, right ? 

The soulmark was a sapphire gem anchored on her chest. She had no idea what that meant, and who it was for. She knew that she had to have had a contact with her soulmate for a mark to appear. It left her all the more troubled.

* * *

In her childhood, she remembered the way Aemond had gazed at Lyrax, her dragon. They had been friends once, playing together in the godswoods and eating cake on each other's laps.They had prayed together for days on end for his egg to finally hatch, to no avail.

"Do you think I'll have a dragon of mine someday ?" He had asked her, out of despair, his hair smelling of soot and dragon breath.

"Do you think I'll have a soulmark someday ?" She had retorted playfully. "You're a Targaryen, Aemond. Of course you'll have a dragon, that is your birthright."

"I don't give a shit about soulmarks", he had said dismissively. "Why are you so obsessed with them ?"

He looked over her head at the notebook she was scribbling on. She was drawing his mother's soulmark. It was an ancient book and he had never known its meaning nor who it was for. In his family, they never talked about soulmarks.

"Because it's magic", she had told him, and her brown eyes had glimmered in the morning sun.

"Dragons are magic", he had replied with a frown, stubbornly.

"Well, they are", she agreed. "But think about it. Don't you find it just so lovely ? The idea that there is someone out there made for you."

"Rhaelle", he started, his violet eyes looking down upon her, his face sullen. "It has never mattered for people like us. We will wed whoever fits best for the realm, with no care whatsoever for soulmarks."

She stopped her scribbling. The old, ancient book she was drawing for his mother had probably never meant anything for Otto Hightower. His parents had no matching soulmarks. It had never appealed to him as it had to her, with her parents' proof of love carved all over their bodies for the whole realm to see.

"I will wed whomever will match my soulmark", she claimed with all confidence. "Or no one at all."

"Don't you know how rare they are ? You could live a lifetime without meeting your one", he said, eyes wide, incredulous.

"You sound just like Jace", she told him, and he grimaced.

She went on with her drawing, focused on her notebook, but he never gazed away from her.

* * *

Jace is seven and ten and his soulmark appears on his shoulder a day after visiting Baela, all the way to Driftmark. It sits there, almost sparkling in the sunray : Baela's brooch, the one she had on ; two dragontails intertwined. They are all sprawled on the beach after a very strict sparring session with the guards, Jace, Luke and her. They are bruised all over, with Rhaena winning over and defeating them all one by one.

Luke is hooting like an owl, while Jace shoves him back a few feet, but smiling all the same. Rhaelle is so very happy for her brother, to know that from the very beginning, Jace was meant to marry and rule alongside his very own soulmate. It makes her own soulmark sting even more.

"Are you going to wed ?" Luke had asked, curious and excited for his brother.

"We aren't even betrothed, Jacaerys said with worry. Mother and Daemon were discussing it."

"You're so grown I might cry", she teased, feigning faint, and Jace rolled his eyes at her.

He splashed her. She pushed him into the ocean, both of them wrestling hard until Luke joined them and they all tumbled, chilled to the bone but celebrating.

"Sister, Jace had called once they had changed and bathed. This will change nothing, will it not ?" He queried, his eyes filled with concern.

"What do you mean, brother ?"

"I'm still the Jace that will always protect you, as you have done for me", he assured her.

She knew he was talking about Aemond's eye. The very proof that she would have done anything for him, sitting on a Prince of the realm's now uneven face.

He was the heir the Iron Throne could ever have needed. She was sure of it.

"Have you given up on searching for that sapphire soulmate ?" Jace questioned, his arm on hers, comforting.

"I will never."

She was determined to find them, whoever they may be. She knew that they had met for only a person you meet could imprint upon your skin. She had been so excited to come back to Driftmark, but it had been for naught. Whoever they were, she was sure they were not there anymore.

"Mother is delaying all betrothal request for you", Jacaerys informed her, caressing her cheek with affection.

"I know."

* * *

The question of Jace and Baela's betrothal was again put to the question when Luke's claim on the Driftwood throne was challenged. For the first time ever since that night, she was to meet again with him.

For years, she had wondered about Aemond, but never wording her thoughts out loud. She never wanted to confront herself and her actions on that night. She had maimed him forever, and she had not regretted it, for it was for Jace. Aemond was about to crack his skull open before she stopped him. She was certain she could do it again, and that she would if given the choice once more. She lulled herself with these thoughts for days to keep her remorse from gnawing at her.

She had worn a purple gown, for her dragon. She knew she was plain-featured, as so many had whispered at court, but she had never thought herself ugly nor ordinary. She was a princess, and the only daughter of the heir, this alone put her out of the ordinary category.

They were bantering together around the yard, feigning a sparring match when she saw him. The years had done well on him. He was tall and lanky, all grace and agility as he moved about the courtyard in a fighting match with Sir Criston Cole. He had a strong jaw and well-defined cheekbones, and his eye immediately caught her attention. She felt herself forget to breathe.

He easily gained dominance on his opponent, winning the match over Cole, and everyone applauded. His posture had been perfect, his stance and footwork controlled. He caught her eyes, and smiled.

"Nephews, niece. Come to train ?" He asked playfully, but the challenge in his voice was clear.

"Uncle", she greeted him, parting with the crowd of onlookers and meeting him in the middle of the training yard. "That was a good demonstration. I look forward to your next performances."

"Performance ? Demonstration ? I'm no court jester", he said with contempt.

His sole eye was taking her in. He settled at last on her face, but said nothing. Aegon was the one who interrupted them.

"My word, is that you, Rhaelle ?" He exclaimed, eyes looking on her figure. "You have much changed, dear niece."

"Aegon. I'm glad to see you again, she said, greeting him lightly. What's with all these new icons ?"

He was covered from head to toes with icons. The smallfolk called this practice tattooing. It was often meant to cover up and lose someone's soulmark in the middle of all these self-inflicted drawings. In the end, no one would come to know which ones were real soulmarks. She could recognize some dice on his hand, a woman's fan, jewels, ships, all sorts of drawings on his skin.

He shrugged, but smiled all the same.

"You know me. Always a lady on my mind", he jested, his head leaning to face her, too close for her comfort.

"Don't tell me these are all soulmark"s, she queried with scepticism and disbelief at the same time.

"I remember your small little book of soulmarks. I should model for you", he offered, giving her his open arm full of icons, offering a hug of all gestures.

She laughed, but still went on and embraced him, looking upon Aemond over Aegon's shoulder, whose face was a scowl. She was enjoying it, his annoyance. Soon, Jace and Luke came to greet their uncles as well, though this time the greetings were much shorter and colder. As Vaemond Velaryon's delegation arrived, they separated and went back to their quarters.

* * *

She was late to the audience. Her gown had ripped near the hip when she grazed the corner of a marble table, and she was sure to add another bruise to her long series of wounds from the training. Remembering her mother's stern look telling her to make haste on such an important day, she was running down the stairs when she fell off a step. She was sure she had sprained her ankle and was cursing the Seven for such a series of unfortunate events.

"What a sorry sight, niece."

He looked so much taller than her that she started to blush furiously out of embarrassment. He had a satisfied smirk on his face, enjoying her misfortune.

"Don't say a word. I'm embarrassed enough already", she said, hiding her face in her hands.

To his credit, he did not, instead, he held his arm out so she could reach to help herself up. She gladly took it, using it to test herself on one foot and on the other once she stood. She winced, her pain evident.

"Why are you here ?" She asked, confused. "Aren't the petitions about to start ?"

"I was sent to fetch you."

She frowned, releasing his arm. He did not elaborate, but simply continued looking at her. One unique eye seemed intense enough to make her burn.

"You were sent ? To fetch me ?"

"Well, I am a prince of the realm, and you are a princess", he said matter-of-factly.

"I took out your eye, and you hate me", she answered, and the air seemed to thin out of the hallway, hurrying to find some other room to fill.

He looked at her, scanning every inch of her face before smirking.

"Have you found yourself a lovely little soulmate on Dragonstone, Rhaelle ?" He enquired as he took a step forward, closing in on her.

"What are you on about, uncle ? Have you come to talk about soulmarks, of all subjects ?"

"Well, Rhaelle", he repeated, insisting on her name. "I remember your little obsession with those, and I was asking if you had found what you were looking for."

His hand slowly stroked a strand of her hair, and she shivered. She took a small step away from him, towards the hallway, far from the stairs she had fallen upon. He followed her mindlessly.

"I have not", she lied, and his smirk grew wider, he seemed almost satisfied with himself.

"Well, do tell me when that day comes, for I will gladly put out your little soulmate's life. As payment for my eye."

She felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach. He had said that as though he had told her about the weather. Furthermore, he had reached out his arm again so she could rest upon it and walk with her sprained ankle.

"I thought it had been a fair exchange, you losing that eye", she answered with defiance, choosing to lean on him, reaching her hand out to touch his eye patch.

He caught her hand forcefully before she ever could reach it, his eye mad with fury in an instant.

"I thought you had found what you were looking for, in Vhagar", she continued, never taking her eyes off his. "For years, I wished you had found peace in your dragon."

"I will when I see your debt getting paid", he seethed, holding her tightly.

"What makes you think I'll tell you if a soulmark ever appears on me ?"

She was smiling now. He would never know of her sapphire, for he never was to gaze upon her chest. 

"I'll have my ways", he answered, suddenly reaching for the fabric of her dress, to which she slapped his hand.

In the corridor leading to the Throne Room, the King himself stood, interrupting them. Viserys was but a decaying body, she realized, finding herself leaning upon Aemond once more to get to her grandsire quickly enough.

"Grandsire", she greeted him, a small smile on her face, as his sole eye found hers.

Viserys was a shadow of a king. His skin was pale and deteriorating, he had a golden mask on to hide his lack of left eye. Though his eye was warm and loving, she felt the need to contain her disgust and repulsion at his stale breath and his chapped lips.

"Princess Rhaelle", he said, stroking her hair and her face with nothing but love. "And my son, Aemond", he uttered while observing their hands on each other. "Have you two reacquainted ?"

"We have, father, Aemond answered casually."

"Where are you off to, grandsire ?"

"My dear, will you escort your king to the throne room ? I have a matter to attend", he told them as he took her hands gently.

She agreed, but her ankle did not, stumbling from the moment Viserys leaned on her. Instead, it was Aemond who caught her, holding her firmly under the watchful eye of the king.

"I'm sorry, my king", she apologized profusely. "I sprained my ankle while descending the stairs. Prince Aemond was assisting me before you came upon us", she explained.

"Aemond, do help the princess", Viserys ordered thoughtfully. "Carry her to a maester after the petitions, but for now, I want Rhaelle to be present. She is a Velaryon, after all."

If he was annoyed by the request, his face never showed any trace of it. They walked awfully slow, with Viserys looking like he would crumble every step he took and Rhaelle, dependent on Aemond's arm, which she loathed. Finally, they reached the doors to the Throne Room, where their names were announced.

"Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm" the guard shouted as everyone halted and bowed. "Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, and Princesse Rhaelle of House Velaryon"

Upon seeing them, their arms linked in a display of friendship and propriety, everyone seemed confused, but it was nothing next to the sight of the King returning to his duties for the first time in months.

Aegon was smirking. Her aunt Helaena was smiling at her, oblivious to the discomfort of everyone else. Queen Alicent was frowning slightly, biting her lips while exchanging a look with her father Otto Hightower. On her family, the faces were nothing but bewilderment and concern except for Daemon who seemed amused by the whole situation.

Aemond carefully directed her to Rhaenyra, whom he greeted with a court "Sister", before joining his side of the family. She placed herself between the twins ; Baela linking arms with her.

"It's been so long, sister", Baela said, squeezing her arm tightly. "I fear you'll have some explaining to do", she added, raising her eyebrows twice, making Rhaena laugh.

The petitions were resuming. She watched as Viserys affirmed Luke once more to the Driftwood Throne, approved of the betrothals of Jace and Baela and Luke and Rhaena, and witnessed Vaemond's beheading. All three girls took a few steps backwards at the sight of blood. Rhaena was shaking. Baela, ever her father's daughter, barely flinched. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she didn't even realize that Luke had reached for her and was hugging her protectively.

"Luke, Rhaena is your betrothed. Take care of her", she whisper-shouted in his ear, thankful but annoyed by the attention.

"You're my twin sister", he affirmed with confidence. "I safeguard you before anyone else. Rhaena of all people, can understand why I am with you right now."

He had never looked so grown. She was the eldest of the two, and she had always felt the need to care for him and shield him from any harm. But he was the future Lord of the Tides, the heir to the Seasnake, and about to marry Rhaena. He held her upright again, her ankle starting to ache again from standing for this long. Over Luke's shoulder, her gaze fell upon Aemond, who was already watching her. His eyes were gleaming at the sight of blood.

* * *

"How did you get your ankle twisted ?" Luke asked as he escorted her for dinner, holding her and assisting her on the stairs. 

She was wearing a purple gown meant to match her dragon's scale. The color suited her, and Rhaena had helped with braiding her hair. She felt pretty and cursed herself for how silly she looked limping about the Red Keep.

Aemond, ever the dutiful son, had actually carried her after the whole Vaemond ordeal, right in front of his mother's who couldn't even hide her distaste, and his father, who had seemed satisfied. He had brought her to the maester's quarter, where Maester Orwyle had put a cast on her ankle. He hadn't said a word to her, and she had been glad for the respite.

"Nothing crazy. I just missed a step and Aemond found me. It was embarrassing."

"Be careful with him, sister", Luke warned, his face filled with dread.

"I know, Luke. I took out his eye. He'll never rest until he gets his revenge."

"I think he's playing the long game", he guessed. "He cannot do a thing under Grandsire's surveillance. But Grandsire's time isn't infinite. So watch it."

She pinched his cheek and he scowled, disgruntled. Although he was now taller than her, she couldn't help it. 

"Hey ! What was that for ?!"

"Since when have you been so protective, dear brother ? May I remind you I'm the eldest ?" She teased, and he rolled his eyes at her.

At dinner, once again their grandsire expressed his congratulations to Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena. All toasted to the future newlyweds, even the reluctant Hand of the King. As the King continued his speech, commanding them to seal the rift between the family, he turned towards Rhaelle, who suddenly felt self-conscious under his attentive eye. 

"We are one house. Let us no longer hold ill-feelings towards each other. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. I hereby declare the betrothal of my son, Aemond, to Rhaenyra's only daughter Princess Rhaelle. This marriage will both strengthen our house and unite us once more."

Chapter Text

Rhaelle's eyes searched for Aemond's. She knew him to possess a great control on his emotions. He could hide his thoughts well and she used to have difficulty reading onto his face. But upon hearing the news, she saw a flash of hurt passing onto his eye, and his face blanching.

She herself, was too stunned to utter a word. She was filled with horror, thinking about her stolen future, her sapphire soulmate whose identity she still didn't know, and whom she could never marry. Her grandsire had deprived her of everything that had given her hope, and everything she believed in, in a matter of seconds.

« Father », Rhaenyra said at the same time Alicent called Viserys « My love ».

Both ladies looked at each other, a mix of emotions on their faces. An understanding of sort, both agreeing to the farce that was the King's statement.

« This matter should have been discussed between ourselves », Alicent started, but Viserys raised his hand, dismissing her.

« I will see that this matter is settled swiftly. It is a fine match, my Queen. They shall wed sooner than the next moon. »

« Father, I do not think it an unbalanced proposition », Rhaenyra interjected. « But the circumstances will not allow for this marriage to be a happy one. Rhaelle is responsible for the regrettable Driftmark incident that left Aemond half blind. »

Everyone suddenly seemed to lack for air. Aemond's eye couldn't hide his fury, his posture suddenly tense, his knuckles white from gripping his glass. Aegon was looking at his plate pretending to not exist. Jace and Luke were looking at Rhaelle with concern. Only Daemon seemed rather bored from the interaction, raising a single uninterested eyebrow at Rhaenyra's statement.

She was shocked that her mother had deemed her responsible for Aemond's eye. She had never admitted Rhaelle's fault in that scuffle, focusing the blame on Aemond's insults leading to it instead, all those years ago. She knew it was to protect her from the marriage, Rhaenyra strategically choosing to start with the strongest argument to prevent this union.

« I have not forgotten that night. It is not out of cruelty that I wed my son to your daughter. I have seen them together today, and I believe they will do a fine pair. The past cannot be changed, but the future is yet to be written for these two. »

« Rhaelle had many propositions from many suitable lords, and we were thinking to secure an alliance with the North or the Riverlands », Rhaenyra continued, almost desperate, but the King wasn't having any of it.

« Rhaenyra. What of a proposition from the Warden of the North or the heir to the Riverlands, next to a Prince of the Realm ? »

Rhaenyra's dejected face turned to Alicent for support. How ironic that they suddenly were allies in this. Her mother was scratching her ear at the exact location of her green flower soulmark.

Viserys was oblivious to the overall discomfort he had brought about and asked for the food to be served. Then, he turned to Aemond.

« Aemond, my son. I will not wed you to Rhaelle if you have still taken offense over your eye. So tell me boy, what will it be ? »

She noticed the King's change of tone adressing Rhaenyra and now Aemond. He had always been gentle with Rhaenyra, even while disagreeing with her. She thought it distasteful that he would adress his own son as « boy » in front of all their family.

Aemond's eye watched Rhaelle intently for a few seconds, before he straightened up and leaned on the table, his two hands joined in front of him. He stared at his mother, then Rhaenyra, and finally, catching Visery's lone eye, which was perfectly matching his. She was almost relieved. She knew he was going to annul this farce of a betrothal. He could not stand her face, let alone a lifetime with her.

« I have no opposition to this marriage, your grace. » Aemond affirmed, to everyone's surprise but the king's.

Rhaelle watched as the king's satisfied face settled and he ordered for more food and music. To think she had no say in all this. Her grandsire hadn't even thought about asking her for her opinion on the matter. She felt crestfallen and humiliated. Her eyes settled upon Aemond's, who smirked right at her. She had no idea why he had agreed on the union, except maybe to torture her, but she thought it unlikely. Why would he stoop so low ?

Luke put his hand on hers, comforting, reassuring. She knew he was seething inside. She squeezed thrice, a habit of hers. It was their mutual sign of understanding, their language.

They resumed dining, and although the atmosphere had been smirched by the unsettling news, toasts were still given. Things seemed to begin to mend between the Queen and her mother, who toasted to each other. Helaena had raised her glass at their betrothals, and Jacaerys, ever the diplomat and good man at heart, had invited their aunt to dance. They had once been a suggested match, and her minds wandered on what could have been. She watched as Aegon's bored gaze followed them, with no emotion whatsoever showing on his face. In the corner, the King had retired, fatigued from the day.

Luke had asked Rhaena to dance as well, and the both of them were swaying gently to the rhythm of the music. They seemed peculiar, with Rhaena towering a bit over him, but he was not to stay that height forever. She knew they would make more than a fine match, and they would lead well on Driftmark.

She couldn't define her emotion at that moment. She just felt lost, suddenly realizing she was to separate from her twin. She had known that from the moment she'd learned of his engagement, but her own very sudden betrothal had suddenly drilled the thought into her. She had spent every hour and every minute with Luke from the second she'd taken her first breath. She felt bereft without him, and without the idea of him in her future.

She caught Aemond's eye, always so intense and burning with a hidden fury. He was going from Luke to her and from her to Luke, as if he'd understood something grand and bigger than anyone else. At last, he stood up, raising his glass.

« Final tribute. To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke and Joffrey. And to my lovely niece, Rhaelle, whom I can't wait to marry. She is but beautiful, wise, and so very strong. »

Alicent gasped. Baela was already up and about to confront him before Rhaena caught her.

« Aemond. Haven't you taken enough ? » She asked him coldly, but he only drank his cup in provocation.

« Oh, Princess. I'm only getting started. »

She slapped him, his face turning from the impact. Jace and Luke ran to her but were immediately stopped by Aegon, and a brawl ensued. Aemond chuckled next to her, unphased by the slap.

« What a wicked marriage. I can't wait. » He said gloriously, a devilish gleam in his eye.

Quickly, Daemon separated them all and her mother ordered them to bed. She stormed out of the room, maddened with rage but was quickly followed by Luke.

« Sister », he had called. « Come for a ride ? »

Her rage immediately deflated at the suggestion. She smiled, taking Luke's hand gladly as they went to the dragonpit. They had much to say, but knew meeting with their bonded dragon would solve almost anything. Being born a twin was a peculiar thing. They had come into the world together, and their world revolved around each other. She had thought of herself as a unit before thinking of herself as an individual. So it was a surprise to see her mind expand to another being from the moment she bonded with her dragon. She didn't even think it was possible to have that special link with someone else, let alone a creature.

Syrax had laid two eggs on the day they came into the world. A fitting gift. They were twins, as their dragons. No one could understand them as much.

Lyrax was waiting for her, her snout flaring with dragonflame, her wings already expanding. As she mounted her beast, she waited for Luke and Arrax to follow them into the night sky.

« Soves, Lyrax. »

And then, they were free. Luke's laugh was the most magnificent sound she could ever hear, along with her dragon's cry of glee. The dragons danced into circles, trying to catch each other's tail, flying so far as the harbor. She dismounted on Rhaenys' beach, a hidden beach accessible only by dragon, a place her mother and Laenor used to take them all when they were little. She watched as Lyrax, a creature capable of breathing fire, whose belly was scalding hot, plunged into the water for a swim.

That was a particularity of her dragon, and she'd never seen any other do it : Lyrax loved the waters.

She sat on the beach, Luke joining her.

« I would cut through him, to free you from this marriage. » He claimed, watching her with concern.

« Don't. I actually think this could be good, for mother. »

« Losing your freedom to that monster ? »

« I created that monster. » She corrected, and Luke's brown eyes was filled with dread.

« What about the sapphire ? » He asked with confusion. « That had always been your plan, finding them, marrying them, children and blah-blah-blah. » He almost mocked, though still worried.

« I don't know. I just know whoever they are, Aemond will never rest until they're dead. »

Luke sighed, tired and sore from the ride.

« What about you ? Your engagement. »

« I'm glad to marry Rhaena. She is the strongest among us in swordsmanship, she is fierce, intelligent, knowledgeable, and so very beautiful. I know we will be happy, and I can't wait to start our days together. But I hate to leave you here while we settle on a peaceful life on Driftmark with grandsire. We've never been apart, sister. »

She suddenly felt as if she was burning. The sensation came from her wrist, and as she grimaced in pain, Luke did the same, looking at his own wrist with worry.

They watched as a very identical soulmark appeared on their wrist ; it was a mirror. They observed the soulmark with awe, tracing each other's tenderly. They knew the pain of their future separation had prompted these soulmarks to appear. They knew what it meant, however confusing in their family.

« I love you, sister. That is all I know, and all I've known my whole life. It is not in a husbandly way, but that, you are aware of. I do not wish to kiss you or marry you in our family's traditions. It's just logical to me that you are my soulmate, as I've lived everything through you or with you. » Luke confessed, and she could almost feel his heart bare open in front of her.

« I love you too, brother. I never wish to part from you. »

* * *

They had come back at dawn, showing their family their matching wrists. Rhaenyra had hugged them, kissing the crown of their head with tenderness and love.

She had woken up a few hours later to her mother's hand going through her hair and stroking it gently.

« Two soulmates. You take very much after your mother, Rhaelle. » Rhaenyra said pensively.

« I shall have no more. I can feel it. » She admitted, almost relieved.

Rhaenyra sighed, once again her fingers reaching for that soulmark spot on her neck. Even fatigued from the events of the night, she looked regal and very much the realm's delight everyone had told her about.

« It seems I cannot do a thing for your betrothal. Your grandsire is very keen on maintaining it. »

« Mother. It is alright. »

Rhaelle's face was resolute and solemn. It looked as though she had come of age in the night.

« I want you to have a smooth, peaceful reign. And it cannot be with the other side of our family at our throats. Aemond is a danger to your claim, more so than Aegon. And I will see to that. »

Rhaenyra's eyes held so much conflicting emotions. Pride and fear, love and frustration.

« I don't want you to feel the need to sacrifice anything for my sake. It is not your duty as my daughter. It is mine as your mother. »

« Allow me to do this, out of sole love for you. »

Rhaelle held her mother's hand. Rhaenyra was tracing her new soulmark with care.

« He will be difficult. Maybe even cruel to you. »

« I will handle it. I carved out an eye already, I can continue my mastercraft. »

A small smile appeared on her mother's face. Then, her face took a serious expression once again.

« The King wants you and Aemond to visit the country and meet the smallfolk and the lords, to show unity. You are to go through the Riverlands, the North, and the Stormlands. »

Of the world, she only knew three different places : Dragonstone, King's Landing, and Driftmark. Those were her family's strongholds where they were regarded as gods amongst men. She had never flown over other territories. She could feel her growing excitement. There were so many places she had wished to visit and see with her own eyes. One in particular felt like a call to her heart.

« Is there a stop at Harrenhal ? »

Rhaenyra's eyebrows furrowed, her fingers reaching for Rhaelle's cheek, and then she nodded gravely.

* * *

He was intently watching as his half-sister's bastards children were training in the courtyard under the supervision of Daemon. They were all attending, even the girls. He was watching from the terrace above, as his eye followed Rhaelle who was sparring with Jacaerys. To his surprise, the best stance, footwork and movements were Rhaena's, who in some way had to compensate for her lack of dragon, just as he did in his youth. Rhaelle wasn't that far behind, with a perfect precision and fierce determination in battle. He was scanning her movement, his eye never leaving her.

« Brother. » Rhaenyra called, and he whirled around to face her, his movement tense and wary.

She was in a black gown, her face rigid as she met his eye. She came next to him, hand on her newly swollen belly, observing her children with a small smile on her face.

« I know our relationship has been strained these past few years. I know most of it has been my fault. I am the eldest. I should've bridged that gap long ago instead of burning my ships on Dragonstone. »

He looked at her, really looked at her, and was reminded of Rhaelle drawing Alicent's soulmark, so long ago. Their faces had different colorings, but mother and daughter still looked very similar, with their strong jaw, high nose and high cheekbones.

His mother's soulmark was a book telling the story of Nymeria, Princess of Ny Sar, coming to Dorne on ten thousand ships and marrying its prince Mors Martell, starting the Dorne dynasty. Nymeria had burnt all the ships on her wedding day, stating to her people there was no coming back.

It had been one of his favorite stories growing up, especially because his mother used to tell the tale with so much passion and love. He suddenly realized the reason.

« My mother's soulmark holds that burning ship story. » He said, his eye never leaving Rhaenyra's, whose face drenched from its colors.

She was scratching her neck. He knew she had a soulmark there, and he wondered if it was matching his mother's. He somehow already knew the answer.

He felt an utter sense of bitterness upon learning of this untold story. His father had always favored Rhaenyra, and they were left to fend off the rest of his conditional affection like scraps. Now that he realized the true extent of his mother's love for her as well, he couldn't help but feel some sort of jealousy. She had both his parents' love, and she could only be the reason he felt love so scarcely from both of them.

« You wanted me sharply questioned, that night. You wanted me tortured while my eye still bled from your daughter's maiming. » He accused.

« It was not out of cruelty towards you. I was trying to protect Rhaelle from losing her own eye as well. »

« So, priorities, then ? Your protection never extended to me, though I am your own brother. »

« You may hate me, Aemond. I know it was wrong of me to show so little care for you. But do not extend that hatred to Rhaelle. She was but a child. »

« I was one as well. » He reminded her, his face hollow.

He saw shame upon her face as her cheeks went red, and finally, she nodded, conceding.

« Why did you accept this betrothal ? You hold no love for her, especially after what she did. » She asked with suspicion.

« Out of spite. »

Her eyes went wide and he grinned, amused by her reaction.

« Hold your enemies closer. That's what I'm doing. » He explained, matter-of-factly.

« You would tie yourself forever to a person you loathe ? Bind your soul and blood to that her ? » She enquired with shock.

« I have never given importance to whoever I was to marry. We are bound to the crown, and we must follow its will. That I abhor Rhaelle is but a detail. Her or anyone else, it matters little to me. »

« Is that how far your sense of duty goes, Aemond ? »

« Well, that, and the fact that it annoys you. It pleases me. » He added, approaching her, smiling.

« What about love, Aemond ? »

He breathed deeply, his ireful eye looking at her, his posture tense and taut. His hand went to his scabbard where his sword lay, not to hurt her, more to protect himself.

He hated her. He hated her so much more than he hated Rhaelle. She was soft and she would destroy the realm with her weakness. She spoke of grand concepts and grand feelings as if they were nothing but accessible and pliable. He hated how she spoke of love, her who had always been soaked in it, from their father, from his mother, their uncle, and how all his siblings had been denied that same love. He was so very jealous and envious, it hurt him to even admit it in his own mind's eye.

« You must know Rhaelle will want love out of this, eventually. »

« I doubt she will. She is fierce and mettlesome, that daughter of yours. Love ? I'll be happy to deny her that. Don't be so greedy, Rhaenyra. She can have my name, my protection, my entire life, and you even agreed in her taking my eye. Asking for love after taking this much is out of the question. »

* * *

« Your footwork is unsteady. » Rhaena noticed, and Baela groaned from frustration.

The girls were all gathered together, and Baela was trying to keep up with Rhaena's outstanding skills at the sword. Rhaelle was sitting nearby, sketching Baela's soulmark, Jacaerys' necklace which was a dragon eating its tail.

The twins were fighting each other on the courtyard, and the fight was intense, although Rhaena was no doubt winning on Baela.

« You're too worked up to spar, sister. » Rhaena said as once again, she pushed Baela to her feet. 

« You've gotten so much better than I. I'm proud and jealous you could continue on taking father's lessons while I was on Driftmark. » Baela admitted, defeated.

« You'll catch up in no time. »

« No, I won't. You have always been the best out of all of us, even Jacaerys, and he is ruthless in a fight. »

They both joined Rhaelle and glanced at her work. Baela smiled at seeing her soulmark, tracing it on her thigh, while Rhaena's eyes were focused on Rhaelle's soulmark, the mirror that matched Lucerys.

« Swordsmanship is of no use. You both have a dragon, and a soulmark now, and I have none of those. » Rhaena muttered anxiously.

Rhaelle put her hand on Rhaena's. They were sisters, all three of them. Had always been, no matter how complicated their family tree was.

« Rhaena. You have a love match, with Luke. » Rhaelle assured her.

« And no soulmark to testify for it. »

Rhaena traced her mirror delicately. Her palms were calloused from all her training. She was thinking deeply, lost in thought, before she spoke again.

« Rhaelle. You should tell grandsire about your soulmark with Luke. It is reason enough to break your betrothal with Aemond. »

Both Baela and Rhaelle furrowed their eyebrows, looking at Rhaena's forlorn and troubled face. She was fidgeting, tears threatening to fall from her watery eyes, but she seemed resolute.

« He would break your betrothal and wed me to Luke. This would weaken his claim to Driftmark and his ties to the Velaryons. » Rhaelle argued with a grimace.

« He doesn't need any ties with the Velaryons. He is one, no matter what blood says. » Rhaena affirmed, as Rhaelle's eyes widened, looking over her shoulder for any listeners. « And Baela and Jace's betrothal still stand. We do not need another match to strengthen that claim. But we do need to save you from your match, and you could marry Luke. »

« Stop it, Rhaena. » Baela warned her, her face displeased. « That is not what you want. You're disregarding your own feelings and Luke's. »

« Rhaena, I love Luke like you love Baela. » Rhaelle assured her, her hand on hers again, comforting. « He and I are one, but we do not wish to marry each other. We do not see one another as lovers. We never have. And you should not turn down love for a silly mirror on my arm. »

Rhaena was now crying and both Baela and Rhaelle embraced her, their warmth covering Rhaena. She was shaking uncontrollably and the girls huddled around her to get to somewhere more isolated. They had ended up in the stables, sitting on a pile of hay around the horses, unbothered by the surprised looks from the stable boys.

« Forgive me. I had misunderstood your relationship with Luke. »

« Believe me, Rhaena. I've been obsessed my whole life with that sapphire soulmate. » Rhaelle promised, her eyes longing and far away.

«  I am so very relieved, sister, but I would still break my own heart so that you could break away from Aemond. » Rhaena claimed, and Rhaelle could feel her own tears now.

« I am doing this for us. I will marry Aemond, so do not fret and please, be happy in your marriage, for me. »

Baela had caught on her line of thinking, her eyebrows frowning once again, and her next remark was astute.

« You have a plan. »

« I do. » Rhaelle admitted. « I'll make him fall in love with me, so that I am safe from harm, and I'll mend the rift between the two factions, and mother's reign will prosper. »

« But he hates you. » Baela highlighted as Rhaena blinked several times out of shock.

« Well, I'll use my charm. How stuck-up can he be ? We'll have a lifetime to ponder on it. »

The twins were silent for a minute, before all of them started laughing at the same time, hay in their hair, clothes covered in dirt from the yard, smelling of horse.

« It all looks so silly, but I think you'll manage, sister. »

« And if not, you can take the other eye. » Baela added, and they continued on laughing.

* * *

There was an uncanny air to Harrenhal. It looked gloomy, like a haunted castle. She was standing in front of the dead tree in the courtyard, the one Harwin Strong had so vividly described to her in her youth. It was said the tree only bloomed when the true master of Harrenhal would set foot in its vicinity, recognizing their true belonging to the House they swore to protect. The last time it had bloomed had been when Harwin Strong came back to his stronghold after being relieved from the Princess Rhaenyra's protection by King Viserys. He had died a week later. That was eight years ago. Since then, the castle was ran by Sir Simon Strong, Harwin's great uncle and the tree had looked dead as ever.

She was taking in each dead branch, each root from that very lifeless oak tree. It looked like it could've reached the sky if not for the very fact that it had no leaf, no flower, nothing on it. This tree had given House Strong its sigil, and her mother's soulmark had been a deliberate proof of her love for Harwin.

« Lucerys it is, then. » Aemond spoke from behind her, making her turn around swiftly.

« What ? » She asked, annoyed by his presence already.

« That soulmark. I should've known it would be him. And on the very same day of our betrothal announcement. I almost feel hurt, niece. »

He was slowly approaching, his voice but a murmur. She rolled her eyes at him, touching her mirror soulmark.

« Soulmarks amongst brothers and sisters aren't uncanny. Lucerys and I are twins. Of course we are soulmates. »

« Well, a bit tricky in our family, isn't it ? » He said, his voice low and dangerous.

« It's not like that. »

She reached for a branch mindlessly. She wanted to look everywhere but at him. His presence was always too suffocating for her liking.

« Mother could've used these soulmarks to parlay with grandsire and have the betrothal broken, if she so wanted. We could wed, Luke and I. But we talked her out of it. Because Lucerys and Rhaena wish to marry one another. » She explained, finally meeting his eye.

He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, humming mindlessly. He was observing her, looking for any possible doubt on her face, which looked so similar to Luke's. It was the same brown eyes, the same curly hair, that unyielding jaw and the aquiline nose of her mother. Then, he spoke again.

« I'm surprised he would leave you with me. »

She sighed, once again annoyed with him.

« I am here on my own accord, Prince Aemond. I am not some poor damsel forced to marry a monster. I know you seek revenge. On me, on my mother. I'll make sure to thwart that. »

He raised an eyebrow, amused and interested by her boldness.

« And how so ? » He challenged, his eye glinting with satisfaction.

« Easy enough. I'll make you fall in love with me. » She affirmed with confidence.

He was stunned for a moment, blinking twice, before he started to laugh. Once again, she frowned. He put his arm on hers, still laughing, gentle and somehow controlling all at once.

« Oh, my dear niece. You sure know how to jest. You think me capable of love. That is terribly naive of you. You'll have none, Rhaelle. No love from me, and you sure will never get that soulmate of yours. »

« If I can't have love out of this marriage, I'll have the only eye you have left then. » She assured him, smiling, watching if he'd rose to the challenge, and of course, he did.

« Let's test it then. Go fetch your sparring clothes and meet me here. »

* * *

She had changed into her sparring pants, much more fitting for the wielding of a sword. She was thrilled with the idea of fighting Aemond. He was circling slowly around her, looking for an opening to strike.

She moved forward, and he dodged her blade easily. Then it was his turn, and he was attacking her head on. Forward, backward, forward again. It looked like a dance, watching the two of them fight, while their dragons, nestled on the nearest hill, were shrieking with excitement. He parried all her attempts with remarkable agility, and she met him blow for blow, led only by her tenacity. He was surprised she'd held on that long already. She was enjoying it, and he could tell from the way her face was trying to conceal the inner workings of her strategy. She was thinking hard about each of her moves, deeply concentrated and he couldn't help but find her lovely at that moment.

She went for his blind side, but he was prepared for it. He dodged again and went for her feet. In a matter of seconds, she was on the ground, with his blade near her neck, smirking.

She kicked his feet, getting him off balance and pushed him, both of them wrestling on the ground in a tangle of feet and hair. Finally, she straddled him, blade to his neck. This time, she was the one smirking. He tensed under her, but gripped her wrists tightly to push away her sword, but she relented.

« Love is work, so you better get at it. » She whispered into his ear, making him shiver, proud of herself.

He rolled his eyes, but she knew him enough to know he was amused by the whole situation. He made them roll around once again to be on top. He was the one straddling her now. His blade was on her neck this time again, but she only smiled.

« Marriage is not love. » He answered coldly, looking into her eyes.

She pulled on his doublet, inching their faces so close to each other he could make out every shade from her eyes and feel her breath on his mouth. He caught his breath for a moment, before replacing his surprise with a mask of indifference.

« Right now, what is it then, if not love, that made your heart race so painfully quick ? Is it anger, or desire, my Prince ? »

The second after, he was gone, striding towards the castle in a stomping pace that could only make her laugh and savor her victory, even though she could still feel his blade on her neck at the moment. She gazed at the branches of the dead tree from the ground. From her angle, they seemed to expand to every confine of the earth, putting roots even in her mind.

* * *

She was woken up by a cheerful crowd from the yard crying out chants of joy. Her maid, Hala, dressed her in a Targaryen red gown and pulled her hair up for the day. She hurried outside, wondering what had happened to hear such excited cries. From what she'd seen, the castle had seemed desolate.

She gasped as she approached the front yard. The dead tree had bloomed. It was a full on magnificent green oak, with glittering pink flowers here and there and she felt a magnetic pull to it. He met her exactly at the same moment she reached for the tree, his gaze lingering on her in a quiet silence. His hair was dishevelled, probably from a morning ride on Vhagar, and once again, she lost herself in his violet eye. He was tense, his jaw clenched, but his eyes told a different story. He looked hesitant, almost fearful.

She looked upon the tree again, and the crowd suddenly cheered as someone yelled « The tree has bloomed, recognizing the Prince of the Realm and the Reign of the Targaryens ! Long live Prince Aemond, son of King Viserys ! »

The crowd was drowned out with a simple glance from him. He was only ever looking at her, an all-knowing look on his face. An understanding of sort between them. The tree had recognized its true master coming on this land, and although Aemond was the blood of the Conqueror, she was the only one with blood Strong enough to will it to bloom.

Chapter Text

Recognizing a familiar face in the sacred, eerie halls of Harrenhal was the most unexpected part of her journey there. She felt lonely without her tribe of brothers, all chaos and all fire. Most of all, she missed Luke. Aemond had all but ignored her ever since the tree incident. Still, the lingering figure of Vhagar was but the evidence he had not abandoned her.

That day, she saw him speaking with a tall woman with dark hair right before dinner.

« Prince Aemond. »

She couldn't help but worm her way into the conversation, curious and taken with an unfamiliar anxiety. She laced his arm around his, and surprisingly realized he did not reject her touch. Still, his strained posture all but told her he was uncomfortable.

« Princess Rhaelle. » He answered formally, his gaze remaining on her. « I believe you are already acquainted with Lady Alys. »

It took her a few seconds to finally recognize Lady Alys Rivers, who had been at court with them in King's Landing and tended to both their mothers at the time. She was but a few years older than them, and she had always been especially kind to the Velaryons siblings, who were always poorly regarded in the Red Keep.

Alys had grown to become an alluring woman, graceful and elegant, with a sharp face and keen brown eyes. She offered her a bright smile.

« Oh my, Princess. You look absolutely lovely. I am elated to meet you again. It has been so long. » Alys complimented her, and Rhaelle blushed.

« I share the same sentiment, Lady Alys. I thought you'd left King's Landing for Runestone. »

« I did, but there's nothing like home. Even if it is one dark, creepy and enormous castle. » Alys replied cheerfully.

She remembered that Alys was one of the Royce's ward at court. She'd never bothered with learning about Alys' parentage when she was little, as she had not been acquainted with the fact that Rivers was a bastard name at the time. It dawned on her that Alys must've been Sir Lyonel Strong's bastard, as she had indeed left court at the same time as Harwin did.

She felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. This made Alys her aunt, but neither could acknowledge that bond. This also explained Alys' gentleness with her brothers and her all those years ago.

Aemond's eye was trailing on Alys. She could feel the faint trace of a smile on his face, the dull soothing of someone who had seen something pleasing to the eye. He had never looked at her like that.

She remembered now. Aemond had a thing for Alys even as a child. He had always tarried when she was around, both his eyes drawn to her.

« I will be making a belated comeback to court on the occasion of your wedding. » Alys blurted merrily, unaware of Aemond's lingering.

« We can't wait. » Rhaelle declared courtly, suddenly vexed, which made Aemond raise a sceptical eyebrow.

She excused them and pulled Aemond by the arm. He hissed, irked by her behavior, his eyes cold once more.

« I thought she was a Royce. » She gritted, unsettled, and he only smirked.

« I didn't know either. But seems like you still have a Strong family. » He mocked, and she glared at him.

* * *

The very woman putting all his defenses down, and she had to be a Strong bastard of all people. The irony is not lost on him, as his eyes trail on Alys' refined figure, willing himself to push away any thought of Rhaelle. He now spends an awful lot of time around Alys, listening to her take on history events and her knowledge on salves and healing ointments. She is like a maester here, in Harrenhal, where she sees to any injury, including the bruises Rhaelle inflicted on him in their scuffle.

He feels a pull to Alys' orbit, and he doesn't fancy staying away.

He feels trapped in his betrothal to Rhaelle. He finds her childish and utterly ridiculous. A pampered princess, a girl out of touch with the world. She had been bathed in love her whole life, drowned in affection by not only her mother and the man who conceived her, but also by the man who gave her his name and protection, and finally, by the man who took on both roles when each after the other, the two former passed away. He remembered Harwin Strong carrying Rhaelle in his arms for absolutely no reason, although she was already too grown for it. He remembered Laenor Velaryon singing her sailor's lullabies and giving her endless rides on his mount Seasmoke whenever she requested. From Daemon, he had not seen much, but he was reminded of her fighting style, all ordered chaos, and knew she could only have learned that from the Rogue Prince.

She was just like her mother, loved, and absolutely convinced that the entire world would love her right back. She took life with ease, never taking accountability for anything ; she appeared witless to him.

She had too much pride for such a shameful being, a stain on the crown from the day she drew breath with her Strong coloring. To think that she was completely certain that he would one day fall in love with her. A laughable, chucklesome idea. A preposterous vision of his future. The fantasy of a silly girl who has never known difficulty.

He is but a pawn to the crown, to be placed to his father's bidding wherever feels convenient. And he cannot love Rhaelle, for she took out his eye. It would be treason to his very existence. So he indulges himself spending his days with Alys and to hell with his betrothed.

* * *

She spends the last of their short days on Harrenhal mostly in the company of her dragon. Lyrax has taken to dive regularly in the God's eye, thrilled with this lake's temperature, which is much warmer than the sea. When she mounts him after a swim, her riding leathers end up drenched and her maid Hala has to leave them an entire day out in the sun for them to dry properly.

Nevertheless, she gets used to the routine. Everyone is very nice to her here, but there is a sense of familiarity that uneases her. She's the daughter of the previous lord, and no one can hail her as such, but it is in their small gestures. Her chambers are the warmest in the vicinity, the cook has prepared her favorite lemon cake thrice in five days, and Sir Simon Strong regards her with an all-knowing, all-loving look, but cannot say a word to her in person. She feels underserving and out of place.

She has not seen Aemond much. He is making himself scarce, riding Vhagar at night in the cover of the night where her gigantic shadow cannot cause so much of a panic among the smallfolk, and digilently training in the mornings right next to the blooming tree. When she seeks him, he is nowhere to be found, as if purposely avoiding her. She doesn't know where he goes in the afternoons, and Harrenhal is way too big to wander around aimlessly.

On their final day, she finally gets an answer to her questions. Aemond is in the library with none other than Alys. It feels like a bucket of ice has been poured onto her. She can hear Alys giggle from afar, and she recognizes Aemond's voice, soft and delicate as she's never heard before. He's reading a book next to her and their conversation is animated. Aemond's face is agreeable, relaxed even. His hair is loose, gliding lightly around his cheeks, and he is smiling. Not a mocking smirk, not an annoyed grin like the ones he reserves especially for her. No, he is sincere and genuine.

Somehow, she'd known, in her guts, that it was to happen. She could predict it from the moment she'd seen his dazed look once he'd taken in Alys for the first time in a long time. This was a version of him he could not afford to be with her. She had thought him cold and ruthless, the kid whose eye she carved out all grown, but she had to admit that even he had curved edges. These were just not meant for her, the one who had caused him so much suffering. Suddenly, he felt unattainable. She can't fathom the feelings boiling in her stomach. She just knows she doesn't quite like them. It's a mixture of shame, hurt, humiliation and even she can't admit there is envy there.

She witnesses as Aemond puts his hand on Alys' cheek, a gesture so unfamiliar for him, and she feels like she's intruding on their private moment. Rhaelle runs away, in halls and stairs and passageways she knows nothing of.

The worst thing is, she doesn't know if she can blame him. They have never discussed their future marital life. They've all but dodged one another in a weird game of cat and mouse inside a gigantic castle. Rhaelle picks her path randomly, walking with no possible aim. Finally, she buries herself in a cold, desolate chamber and sits on the abandoned bed in the room. Somehow, she manages to fall asleep, tired emotionally. It's already late in the evening when she wakes up, and she is left engulfed in the darkness with no way back. She has not eaten anything and can feel her stomach growling painfully. She feels completely stupid and useless right now.

Hours pass and she wonders if they will send someone to find her. If they even realize she's lost and missing. She had not told anyone about her whereabouts. For all they knew, she could be on Lyrax's back enjoying the night sky. She promises herself not to cry like a baby, but does it anyway, because she is thinking about Aemond, and realizes that he probably doesn't care about her. Even without Alys in the picture, she knows she holds no weight in his thoughts. It's not that she loves him or has any feeling for him. She just wished he'd have more consideration for her.

She's weeping, feeling utterly pathetic in a decrepit old bed in an unfamiliar castle and wishes her mother was there, or Luke even. She can hear worrying sounds, like cracking or footsteps outside and she doesn't dare peaking. That castle is haunted, she hears Jace say in her mind, and she weeps more ardently.

More hours pass by, when she hears a sound right outside her door. She's about to scream to the top of her lungs, but she sees the light of a torch and Aemond's impossible eye focusing on her, with a cold indifference.

« Thank the gods, Aemond. » She exclaims, and she leaps from the bed to embrace him.

He is left stunned, rigid under her, his arm up in the air to keep the torch away from burning her, while the other ends up awkwardly patting her.

« You utterly foolish woman. » He tells her, irritated, but she only engulfs herself in his warmth.

They stay like that for a while. He has noticed her puffy eyes and realized something is amiss, but he does not dare ask nor detach himself from her. He understands that some moments are sacred, and this one seems to be for Rhaelle, so he lets her be. Her legs finally give out after a few minutes, and Aemond is compelled to carry her all the way to the main part of the castle. They meet numerous servants and guards on their way back, awaken to specifically search for her. She feels embarrassed to have torn off so many people from slumber just for her sake. She doesn't open her eyes, instead focused on Aemond's arms around her, his breath on her neck, and the steady rhythm of his footsteps coordinated to his calm heartbeat.

« My word, Princess. We we all so worried. » Simon Strong croaked in a sleep-deprived voice.

« Pardon me, my lord. I lost my way. » She confessed weakly.

« Prince Aemond, how did you manage to find her ? There were so many of us out looking ! »

The Prince remained silent, instead putting her down on a chair in the main dining room. His eye searched on her face for any sign of injury, focused on her well-being, his gaze evading her eyes. He carefully stroked her formerly sprained ankle, examining it, but he let go once he felt satisfied of her condition.

« You're safe. » He told her, and she only nodded.

She was handed a cup of warm soup on her lap.

« What a stupid girl. Flaunting her Princess status and calling wolf on all of us for nothing, when she's just one of our bastards. » Someone said in a hushed voice, but it was loud enough for both Aemond and her to hear.

He whipped around. It was one of Lord Strong's son, Avys. She sighed. She knew Aemond thought the same. Many did among the realm. She knew Aemond would always consider her a bastard and would never sully himself to deny it to anyone nor would he defend her.

But to her surprise, Aemond stood up and immediately went for Avys, punching, kicking and striking him with his blade in a rageful fit, until he was all bruised and torn apart on the ground.

« I will have your tongue for that, on the order of Viserys I, King of the Seven Kingdoms. That will make you ponder before disrespecting my betrothed and a princess of the realm. » Aemond declared, his voice terrifyingly low and menacing. « Get rid of him. »

As Avys is taken away roughly, while everyone still stood stunned, Aemond walked back to her, once more taking her in his arms. She yelped out of surprise, clinging to him as he ignored her, making his way to her chambers in silence.

« Don't disappear like that again. » He warned her in a rasp, his voice displeased.

« Were you worried ? »

« No, I wasn't. » He automatically answered. « I was merely inconvenienced. »

She nodded, choosing to hold him more closely, burying her head in the crook of his neck. He put out a breath but continued walking, his neck leaning on the other side from discomfort, though not outright rejecting her touch.

« Why did you even defend me ? You think as he does. »

He opened her chambers with his back, grunting from the effort and put her on the bed gently. There, he said, no lower than a whisper : « To the realm, we still are one, no matter our personal feelings and disagreements. So it is merely a show, one of a united front. » He concluded, shrugging, his eye focused on her.

She nodded. He was saving his image, and it included hers as well.

« I can help with that. » She offered, taking a look at his bruised knuckles.

« No. I'll let Alys see to it. » He answered, hiding the blood with his other hand.

Alys. So they were on first name basis. She only nodded once more, bitterness in her chest and seething with a weird feeling in her stomach.

* * *

Soon, after visiting the Crownlands and the Stormlands, they were back in King's Landing, where the wedding was to take place in a few days.

Alys had come back as promised and attended once more to her mother, for old time's sake. Everyone was very happy to see her again. Rhaelle spent her days with Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena, either on dragonback or fighting in the yard. Occasionally, she'd go for a walk in the gardens with Helaena and her twins, under the watchful eyes of Alicent, who, though cordial at best, still looked at her with sorrowful eyes. Aemond was an absentee figure, though she had seen a glimpse of him with Alys on many occasions.

That day, Helaena was showing her her collection of dried plants and insects while the twins played with little Aegon and little Viserys in the solar. Rhaenyra and Alicent were discussing wedding matters next door.

« That flower. » She pointed at the wild green flower Helaena had carefully tucked between two pages of an encyclopedia. « What is it ? »

« Oh, it was sent by Daeron. It's called a Rhae, it can only be found by Oldtown. I believe Rhaenyra was named after it somehow. »

She had heard her mother and the Queen once had been close childhood friends. She finally understood that soulmark on her mother's neck. The revelation somehow bothered her. To think that Alicent and her mother were soulmates and she had never witnessed any warm moment between them in all her life. Instead, it was all but cordial coldness, disguised jabs, erupting with the Queen wielding a dagger to carve out her eye as retribution for Aemond.

She suddenly was very displeased with her grandsire. His intervention had spoiled their relationship, she was sure of it. For all the love she had for him, she could still acknowledge that he had ruined a soulmate bond. And learning that her mother and Alicent were once soulmates gnawed at her. That meant that there was a precedent to soulmate relationship turning cold and it terrified her. Her mother had proof on her skin that love didn't last. It felt like a contradiction. A soulmark for a doomed love. And it felt like this would be her fate as she entered this union with someone who hated her.

She thought about that sapphire soulmate. Were they still out there ? Were they even still alive ? Who could they be, what interaction did they ever have, for her to have this gem anchored into her chest ? Did she really live through something so deep and so profound with them on Driftmark that she'd felt the need to mark them as a soulmate ? Could her love not be reciprocated ? She knew it could, of course. She knew that in a lot of case, soulmarks were unrequited. A person could have a mark representing their soulmate, and said soulmate could have none. These unions often did not work out. That made her mother's number of soulmate all the more impressive. And she was so very afraid of that sapphire. 

Before, it was exhilarating, knowing you had a special someone in the universe. That she was meant to be with someone. 

Now, it all felt useless. She'd never marry them, Aemond had made sure of that. She knew that somehow, this was his revenge in the making. But he had been distant, and then, he'd carried her all the way to her chambers and reassured her when she needed him in Harrenhal. She did not know what to think of so many mixed signals.

And then, there was the matter of her feelings. Could she one day love Aemond ? 

She supposed that yes, she could. Because she was surrounded with love and full of it, because she'd once loved Aemond as a child, although not romantically, and because she couldn't imagine spending her entire lifetime with someone she'd hate. She was confident in herself that Aemond would one day love her back. But Alys' presence had unsettled her. What would happen if a soulmark appeared on Aemond ? What of their marriage, of their vow ? 

* * *

« Princess. » He'd greeted her formally once more, as she sat next to him in the library.

She made sure he'd be alone, having sent Baela to distract Alys for a while. He was reading a book in High Valyrian about Dorne during Aegon's conquest.

« I have a few questions. » She said bluntly, feeling bold and childish both at the same time.

He raised a sceptical eyebrow, closing his book. He sighed.

« Ask away. »

« Show it to me. »

He was confused at first, and then, following her line of sight, which was focused on his eyepatch, his face contorted into an infuriated scowl.

« That is not yours to look upon. » He ruthlessly replied, some deep and hoarse roar caught in his throat.

« I wish to see it. After all, it was by my hand. »

She knew she'd made a mistake the moment she uttered the words. She hadn't wanted to sound so blunt, but something in his guarded demeanor, his ever defensive face around her made her lose all sense of politeness or decorum. She demanded or expected from him, but never really wanted to ask, fearing his rejection more than anyone else's.

He pulled away from her, standing up, watching her with an indignant eye, as if she was dirt on his shoes.

« You are maddening. That is mine, and to think that I get you as payment for it. » He spat, venom in his voice.

It was a low blow, and she felt forced to get on par with his wickedness, because otherwise, they'd never have any semblance of a conversation.

« Do you not think that a fair exchange, Aemond ? » She defied him, challenge in her eye.

« Not at all. I will not die until you've paid every second of it. »

« And how will that be ? »

He'd closed in on her, putting her in an uncomfortable position between her chair and the wall. He'd pinned her hands on both sides, his grip firm and threatening.

She wasn't scared of him. She'd learned in these past few weeks that Aemond never shied away from her touch. In public at least. He was always ever the perfect picture of duty, indulging her, and he was irritated at worst from her attitude. But cruel, never. Not like the day he'd promised he'd kill her soulmate.

« I thought I'd made myself clear. With my absence. »

He could not replicate what he did at Harrenhal, ever. He should not be gentle with her. He'd given an inch and she was now expecting a mile. He had to see to it that she suffers enough for her to never seek for him again expecting nonsense such as ever asking to look upon his scar.

She furrowed her brows, confused from his confession.

« Isn't it a little pathetic ? How you cling to me, expecting love from me. How you confuse marriage and love when you were the one who carved my eye out. I find nothing about you endearing, Princess. You feel no shame nor need to apologize for what you did to me. You've never paid your debt and now expect to collect love from me in return. You have no sense of reality. You live in a delusion because you've been shielded with love your whole life. I think you've mistaken me for someone else. » He snapped, his grip on her tightening to the point of hurting her.

She winced, but he had no intention of stopping, his eye wild, his nostrils flaring from the strain.

« This is how our marriage will be. Cold like the unforgiving North. That is the mercy I've given you. Do not ever speak to me about your nonsensical vision of love. Or I'll carve out your eye in turn, as a gift to my mother. »

He let go, leaving her bereft and pitiful in the library.

* * *

Daemon's arm around hers was distant, but still warm. She felt dispossessed of her own body as she walked down the aisle, in a white and Velaryon blue gown, pampered and presented as royal as she could be for all the realm to see. Aemond had silver decoration on his eyepatch that day and he watched her, eye burning, with a complete impassive face.

They said their vows mecanically, and even his kiss was but a quick peck on the lips, chaste and unaffectionate. She could feel him wanting to pull his hands away from hers any time he could. He did not enjoy this the slightest and she could feel it from his posture, his rigidity. His shoulders were tense, uncomfortable.

In the carriage, he did not even look at her, choosing to watch the fair number of smallfolk out to witness their procession in the city. Flowers were thrown and their names were chanted. No words were exchanged between them. Aemond was unsettled, even she could notice. He was constantly stroking his left thigh.

« What is it ? Have you grown a soulmark overnight ? » She joked, gesturing to his thigh, and he whipped his head to face her.

« What ? »

He seemed deep in thought, his eye wild, his fingers tapping on his knees impatiently. She tried a smile to ease him.

« I don't know. You're stroking your thigh. Baela was like that as well when her soulmark appeared. » She explained in a light tone to calm him.

« I don't have a soulmark. » He said, his eyes cold and unwavering.

« I guess I'll see to that tonight. » She cheekily answered.

His face was distorted with disgust and he refused to talk to her for the rest of the carriage ride.

* * *

Aemond had not danced with her. Instead, he'd watched her accept her first dance from Lucerys. It was from Aemond's lack of asking that her brother had stepped up. She danced with Luke, then Jace, and even with little Joffrey. A fair amount of lords had asked her to dance as well and she'd accepted, watching Aemond disappear into the gardens.

She'd promised herself she would not seek him or give him reason to think her pathetic again, but something itches her to follow him to the gardens anyway. And that's where she sees him sharing a dance with Alys Rivers.

From the distance she cannot hear their conversation. But she can decipher the light tone, and see his unguarded face. He looks absolutely royal, and Alys is a match for him, in her navy blue gown, the very tree she'd will to life a month ago engraved on her chest. They're chest to chest, forehead joined, and although the ring on her finger bears House Targaryen's sigil, she's the third party here.

Rhaelle leaves the gardens quietly, vowing she'd not cry on her wedding day.

* * *

« Will it hurt ? » She asks, holding her cup of wine to avoid shaking.

« It may. » He replies coolly.

He's holding his own cup, sighing heavily. He drowns the wine in a few gulps before setting the cup on the table and finally facing her. They're alone now. Aemond had forbidden a bedding ceremony to Aegon's disappointment.

He's clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. Finally, he puts out all the candles in the room, engulfing them in darkness.

« Lay down. » He gestures to the bed, and she does so, removing her dress and lying in only her thin shift, relieved he will not see her sapphire tattoo.

She can feel his weight on the other side of the bed. He's still fully clothed. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before she can feel his fingers moving her shift up a few centimeters, exposing her to him. It's so dark he can't possibly see a thing, but he guides himself swiftly to her core, stroking and slowly caressing.

« What are you... » She starts, confused and slightly aroused by the touch.

« It's preparation. » He cuts her bluntly, his hand at first tentative and now fully confident on her exposed self.

He is going faster and faster, leaving her breathless and whimpering. When he inserts a finger inside her, Rhaelle gasps aloud, scared and excited all at once, but denying herself such feelings. Her hands find his, uncertain, trembling. He puts them back to her sides mecanically as he fondles a breast over her shift and pushes his finger in and out of her. He pushes her legs apart even more, allowing himself more access, before she feels his tongue on her. She is panting now, her mind adrift, her thoughts floating somewhere in the air between them. She can't name what she feels and is scared of finding words for it at the same time. He knows exactly what to do from her reactions, and his mouth explores deeper inside her as his tongues delves in her folds. His fingers have drifted to the bundle of nerves above her entrance, fumbling and tracing circles sending jolts of pleasure in her mind.

« Aemond. » She calls him, lost in a jumble of thoughts, and that's when he removes himself from her, before undressing.

She can barely make up his form in the dark. He is suddenly grabbing her thighs to pull her to the edge of the bed, and that's when she feels him at her entrance.

« Breathe. » He commands her.

She obeys without complaint. He sinks gently into her, and patiently waits, fondling a breast again, breathing slowly. She had braced herself for that moment so many times, she is surprisingly relieved it doesn't hurt too much. She strokes his forearm, as if to signal that she is well, and that's his cue to start moving inside her. His pace is steady and relentless, and the initial pain and shock is replaced by a growing sense of pleasure that she can feel build up inside her stomach. She can still feel the tension in his body. He is still ever cautious and guarded, even in the confine of their intimate moment, and as she is shaken under him and crying with delight, she grabs his thigh, caressing gently, as if to show him he can be himself with her. But she is the one coming undone from his torture, her fingers digging into his thigh, at the same time as realization dawns on her.

The spot she is touching is the one he continuously stroked that morning in the carriage, and his skin feels smooth under her finger, just as it is when she touches upon a soulmark.

She can't breathe suddenly, and Aemond is still riding through her climax, somehow growling and groaning, as he whispers « Alys. » next to her face before freezing.

In a matter of seconds, he's out of her, and out of the room, leaving her utterly alone, with the knowledge that he has a soulmark on his thigh, and that he was thinking of Alys while fucking her.

Chapter Text

Aemond is nowhere to be seen in the morning. She doesn't seek him. Instead, she breaks fast with her family. Her sisters are curious to learn more about her wedding night, but she cannot bear to tell them the truth. So she opts for a vague recalling of the night, enough to satisfy them, with no true detail of the affair.

Baela sees right through her and demands to know the truth of it all as Rhaena comes upon her, comforting. So Rhaelle chooses another truth to conceal her lie.

« He has a soulmark on his thigh. I could not see it in the darkness, but I could feel it. »

There is silence, before the twins speak again.

« Do you think it is Alys ? » Rhaena asks, horror written on her soft features.

« Could be. I don't know. » She answers, not hiding her confusion anymore.

« My my, that is ridiculous. He reproaches you for being a so-called bastard and then he chooses another bastard as his mistress ? » Baela seethes, clenching her fists.

« We don't know if she is his mistress or not. It could be an unrequited crush at most. » Rhaena counters, choosing not to jump to conclusions.

Baela scoffs, annoyed.

« You should take a lover. » She suggests, as Rhaena's face turns indignant.

« No. » Rhaelle answers immediately. « I can't give birth to a child that would not be Aemond's. »

The implication leaves them all pondering again for a minute. Then, Baela nods, sympathetic, her hand soothing on Rhaelle's back.

* * *

It is the first time she is overpowering Jace in the courtyard. The heir to the heir is otherwise rough and ruthless in battle, only ever defeated by the infamous Rhaena. But today, Rhaelle is the one about to win, encouraged by Lucerys whose pride can be felt through Maegor's holdfast. She is circling over Jace, who has not yet to declare himself defeated and is still choosing his next angle of attack.

There's a serious edge to their friendly sparring, a certain excitement in the affair. They're sweating all over, but she's never felt so close to victory. Knowing that she can finally battle against Jace as an equal already feels like one, and she's not about to let go of the feeling.

Rhaelle advances and meets Jace whose blade trembles under the intensity of her strike. He is smiling, beads of sweat dropping from his tousled hair and manages to push her back, but she relents, jumping on him, earning him a laugh.

«  You're improving, sister », he acknowledges.

He is the one attacking this time and Rhaelle parries, dodging him. She throws her sword in the air and catches it back with her left hand, striking Jace with it, startling him with her move. As he falls to the ground, she points the sword to his neck, all smiling.

« I didn't know this little trick. I'm impressed. »

« You did so well, sister ! » Luke yells from above.

As she helps Jace up, she hears some applause and turns to see a head of silver hair. But it is only Aegon, who smiles lazily at her.

« That was a cool move, dear sister. »

« Thank you », she manages to speak as she feels his gaze on her.

To her surprise, he follows her.

« Rhaelle. We haven't had the chance to talk much ever since you came back and married my brother. »

« Well, I seem to recall you requesting specifically for a bedding ceremony at the wedding though. » She retorts back bitterly before leaving, uninterested.

She doesn't want to be near Aegon, who wanted her humiliated with such glee on his face.

She is exhausted when she comes back to her chamber for a well deserved bath. Ever since the wedding night, Aemond hasn't bothered using their shared chamber and solar, leaving her the entire space for her endeavors. If he ever comes to his own chamber, she hears nor see no sign of it.

Right now, their supposed shared room is full of her unfinished sketches all scattered on the bed. Soulmarks, or attempt to recall a certain soulmark, from touch only. Whatever it was, it was something vast and detailed, like some kind of tentacled-creature. Was he bonded to an Ironborn ?

Aemond had promised her a marriage of silence, and that was exactly what he'd given her. Out of pride, she'd not seek for him either. But the soulmark thing gnawed at her more than she'd admit. She made herself busy, from fear of her own thoughts. She'd swim each morning with Lyrax, read to her ailing grandsire every two days, spar with all of her siblings, and spent all of her evenings not only drawing but painting as well. Sometimes, she'd keep company to Jace in the library as he read more and more Valyrian books, and she'd eventually follow Luke and Baela into Flea Bottom, dressed as commoners. It was not such a lonely existence, with all her family present, but she knew that eventually they'd have to go back to Dragonstone. Her mother insisted on giving birth in their ancestral seat.

On the night before their departure, the whole family is to be gathered once more for a formal dinner, as requested by King Viserys. His ailing disposition grows concerns from both his wife and his elder child who decide not to question him, even though the last dinner had been a disaster. That night, she finds Aemond at her door, here to escort her. His presence surprises even Hala, who has not seen him ever since the wedding night. She bows politely before leaving.

He is staring at her, taking her in. She's wearing a red gown that compliments her shape and has an intricate set of braids in her hair. He doesn't comment.

« Are you ready ? » He asks, giving her his arm.

She can feel all his self-restraint in the rigidity of his movement. His face is still tense, hateful almost, around her. Nowhere can she see that softness he reserves only to Alys.

« Before we go, I'd like to talk about... that night. » She starts, bracing herself.

She has to remind herself she was the one wronged. Or else she'll feel even more pathetic. His eyes dart back to her, then to the door, before he sighs and sits.

« We will only lay together in hope of you getting with child. » He explains matter-of-factly. « That is what is expected of us. »

He is right next to her, yet so far, with walls raised so high in between them, she doesn't know how to hide her fury and indignation.

« You treat me as a bastard. Yet you're hoping to sire one to another bastard from mine own family. »

« Don't speak of what you don't know. » He warns her, the edge in his voice sounding dangerous.

« I will not have your child. Not if you fuck another right under my nose. »

« I am not. » He tells her, maddened by her implications. « But I could. I could sweep the street of Silk clean of all its whores. Bring them right here in these shared chambers for you to see. No one would bat an eye, for that is my right as a man. You're too bold a wife, daring me to stay faithful when we all know marriages under the crown are a sham. We are not married to me, Rhaelle. »

His last words prick like thorns. He is smiling at her, charming, even while wounding her. His impossible eye burns into hers, violet on brown.

« We are married to the realm. So you will give me loyalty. » She commands, the words difficult to let out of her throat without emotion.

« I'll continue fucking you, thinking about her then. » He answers, his eyes cold and dark. « Shall we ? »

* * *

The sight of her family is enough to cheer her up after that bleak conversation. She is profoundly enjoying the dinner and their last shared night together. Lucerys is making jokes and toying with the food, Baela and Jace dance and include Helaena in their little get together. She ignores Aemond completely and even decides to share a dance with Daemon.

« If he's too much a cunt don't forget to cut his balls as well as his last eye. » Daemon starts, his voice low and impossibly light while uttering such a threat.

« I'll be okay, Daemon. » She reassures him.

« I still don't want you to delude yourself in this child fantasy of yours. I'm not sure what you want out of this, but if in the end, it's not what you're looking for, you can always come back home. That will never be cowardice. »

Daemon's eye is filled with concern. For all he was, a beheader and a mass-murderer, she'd never doubted his love for her mother, and for her and her brothers by extension. He wasn't loving, showering them with love as Laenor did, but he had love in him, and that was enough.

« I have three daughters and I'll kill to break them from a sham of a marriage. »

She felt her cheeks warm with affection as he twirled her around. Her mother was watching them, smiling brightly, hand on her belly. She was even making conversation with Aegon, who was still drunk as ever. Still, as it was an unlikely happenstance to see them both together, she doesn't comment on it.

That night, she's woken up by Lucerys who shakes her gently. She can feel the mischief in his eyes miles away.

« Let's get on an adventure for this last night in King's Landing, sister. »

They all stand in front of her room, in riding leathers and hooded capes. Even Aegon and Helaena have joined, to her surprise. So she feels the obligation to invite Aemond as well. She remembers the Pink Dread incident and how devastated and isolated Aemond had always felt amongst them dragonriders. She wonders if after he'd claimed Vhagar, he'd rode the skies with his siblings, a dream of his as a boy.

She knocks on his door, feeling the lingering gaze of her brothers on her. He's quick to open, though his muddled mind takes a few seconds to register it's her. His rigid mask is back on immediately and again, it pricks something in her mind. She can't name the feeling, she just knows it is unpleasant to see him that guarded with her.

« Rhaelle. » He acknowledges before quickly taking in the others, a few feet away.

« It's a full moon tonight. We're taking to the skies. Will you join us ? »

He blinks a few times, his expression wary. He understands he's been the last to be woken up. He wonders if he'd even been considered in this little adventure in the first place. And he's asking himself why, of all people, would Rhaelle be the one to include him. He'd been nothing but cold to her these last few weeks.

« Why would I do that ? It's the middle of the night. » He knows he sounds stuck-up, but he just can't imagine them all asking him out of goodwill.

« So we can fall in love under the moon ? » She's rolling her eyes. « Come on, Aemond. It'll be fun. »

The next thing he knows, he's riding to the patch of land nearest to the gates where Vhagar nests. The rest of them took two carriages to the Dragonpit. All alone, next to Vhagar, Aemond starts to second guess everything. Especially Rhaelle's intentions. What if they were headed somewhere else, and he ends up alone in the skies to their humiliation ? He knows them capable of that, Aegon especially, who would delight in his shame. But he hears a whoosh sound and glances up to the sky, where Lyrax's formidable violet scales have turned navy blue in the night. The dragon lands right next to Vhagar, who groans from the sudden intrusion. It is a tiny thing, fragile and Vhagar is probably five times its size, but it still stands proudly with teenage petulance next to the last dragon of the conquest.

Rhaelle descends from Lyrax gracefully, her hair tied into a ponytail. She greets Vhagar, hand on her snout, whispering in High Valyrian into the dragon's horned ears. To his surprise, Vhagar doesn't even flinch, and nuzzles into Rhaelle's embrace.

« I've always wanted to meet the last marvel of old. To think Vhagar has lived through the Conqueror's quest, and here she lies, gazing upon us. »

Rhaelle's eyes are wistful. She doesn't expect for him to answer. After a few moments, to Lyrax's possessive calling, in shrieks and groans, she finally glances back at Aemond.

« What you did that night. You were up against impossible odds. And still, you shattered everyone's misconception about you and claimed the largest dragon in the world. »

He's breathless from her compliment and even more by the intensity of her eyes. He feels the pull right down to his stomach.

He knows why she's here. She'd felt his doubt and come, so he would not feel played. Somehow, he doesn't know if her presence is a comfort. To know she'd understood his nature that well is a failure to himself. And oddly, with Rhaelle's face bathed in the moonlight and her hand on Aemond's soul, a creature larger than life itself, he feels a tug to his heartstring.

She takes off Lyrax's back with a laugh, and he follows suit, his mind empty of thoughts.

He'd never seen the skies so filled with dragons. The youngest ones, Vermax, Arrax, Lyrax and Moondancer, are flying high in impossible patterns, quick in acrobatics, tumbling in loops and circling each other. It is clear as day that they are used to each other's presence. Sunfyre is all the more eager to join them, but like his rider, he is messy in execution, Aegon holding on for dear life to his saddle but too drunk to even realize how close to death he'd been. His brother's laugh is like a howling of a wolf under the full moon. Vhagar's flight is way calmer, a simple flap of her wings enough to catch up to them, so she stands below with Dreamfyre, whose rider temperament matches hers. The sky is bright with dragonscales of all colors sparkling to the moonlight. He only has eye for Rhaelle. Lyrax and Arrax have caught one of each other's claws, and are spinning together. Entranced by their riders' commands, they come apart at the same time, and in the momentum of their breaking away, unleash fire from their maws, lightening up the skies. Helaena is applauding profusely, captivated by the spectacle. He doesn't know what to think of all this. Dragons are no pets to indulge in their rider's whims.

His flight are lonely affairs, so he'd never seen dragons synchronize like this. It's like a dance, and in Vhagar's rumble, he can feel her content. The dragons are chasing each other, their personality tethered to their riders'. Lyrax is longing for another dragon's touch. He chases the other dragons and pets his head into their neck in a catlike caress. He even dares to do it with Vhagar, who groans, but accepts it still. He locks eye with Rhaelle, who is again, glowing under the moonlight.

Two hours later, and they're all sprawled on Rhaenys' beach, huddled around each other. They're recalling childhood memories with enthusiasm.

Rhaelle is in the seas with Lyrax. He'd never seen a dragon dive and swim before. He's scrunching his face at the thought of Vhagar even dipping but a toe into the Blackwater Bay. The water must be freezing, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. She's helping Lyrax catch fish he grills on the spot to eat. She even has the consideration to bring some to the other dragons, and he watches as Vhagar accepts the offering gladly. When she comes back, wet with seawater, Luke and Jace are immediately on her, tenderly giving her their capes. She doesn't take them, instead, she interrupts Aegon's story about the sea turtle Sunfyre and him helped get back to sea, and dares them to join for a dive into the water.

« No way », Rhaena immediately counters. « It must be freezing. »

« That's where the fun is, sister, » Rhaelle challenges, eyebrows raised.

Aegon is retrieving his doublet and riding leathers in no time. The others do the same before taking a dip into the water. Aemond's gaze is focused on Rhaelle, but she is shamelessly gaping at Aegon's body. He knows it is not a lust-filled look. She is deeply observing of Aegon's icons, her eyes wandering, filled with curiosity. Aemond has not cared for Aegon's tattoos in ages. He remembers his mother's scolding every other day when he first started the process of getting as many as he could. In the end, he doesn't quite recall if his brother had a real soulmark, and he knows it was probably's Aegon's intention. Sometimes, he could be smart.

Aegon's torso is a constellation of icons. He can register a knight's helmet, a stag, and a certain number of flowers. And Rhaelle is fascinated by it all. He can feel a tug inside his ribs and chooses to ignore the discomfort.

« Is that a gem ? » She asks, pointing at indeed, some type of blue crystal etched on his brother's navel.

« This ? Yeah, a sapphire, probably. » Aegon answers, his mind occupied with the upcoming dive. « This one is for a special someone. » He continues cheekily, winking at her before jumping into the water.

He can hear Rhaelle's deep thinking from the distance. She is frozen in thought. Then, she turns around and eyes him.

« Aren't you gonna dive ? » She challenges.

« Aren't you just waiting for a chance to undress me ? » He finds it in him to ask, almost defiant.

« Are you falling in love already ? » She counters, untying her ponytail, letting her soaking hair fall around her face.

She's beautiful in a way he cannot admit. A Velaryon in name only and somehow, she's connected to both the moon, the fires of dragons, and the sea.

He's out of his doublet in seconds, but he leaves the riders leathers on before following her to the tides of the sea. It's like kissing winter, diving in the freezing Blackwater Bay, before Rhaelle hisses a « Dracarys » from her salt dried lips and Lyrax, around whom they all gathered thigh-deep into the water, releases a scorching heat ball of fire from his mouth into the nightsky : the song of ice and fire.

Baela and Jace are kissing under the water, drenched and happily in love. Luke has Rhaena on his shoulders playing in a chicken fight with Aegon and Helaena. There is only Rhaelle left, and this time, he feels drawn to her. For not leaving him to his sleep, for including him. She's looking at the moon, hands tugging to her shirt in the middle of her ribcage. Almost in silent prayer.

« You're missing them, already. »

« I am. » She admits, watching them all have fun a few feet away, splashing at each other, trying to clean Lyrax's scales or looking for seashells.

He stands next to her, wordless. He's looking at the moon resting above peacefully.

« Does it still pain you ? » She asks, gazing upon his hidden, scarred eye.

« I still feel the blade. »

She shudders and swallows.

« You could love me to forgiveness. » She tells him.

He laughs. He can't fathom her audacity, her boldness in thinking that, and even to speak the words.

« You throw the word so easily, you'd think love wasn't a rare thing to have. »

« It isn't. Love is everywhere because I am loved by people and I love them right back. It is the easiest feeling to ever exist. » She explains, her eyes flashing wildly.

« Love doesn't replace my eye nor will it make me feel whole. »

« But you still seek it with Alys. »

Her hands are waving into the waters in circles. She's attempting to make herself look busy.

« You were already drawn to her when we were little. There was something in your eyes when she was attending to us. »

He doesn't deny it. He's had a crush on Alys for years. He'd tried to dull the feeling somehow, with time, discipline, and unlearning, but he couldn't deny himself the pull she still had on him, even a decade later.

« I could never measure up to her for you, is that right ? » Rhaelle asks quietly.

He can feel the hurt in her eyes admitting herself that. It is something new to him. He's known Rhaelle proud his whole life. Always so sure that no one would ever harm her, sure that everyone was to give her affection. That everyone would reciprocate any kind of feelings she'd have towards them, because that was how she'd lived her whole life. Loving and persuaded she was easy to love back.

He's still looking at her moonlit face, her wet curly hair crowning her cheeks and neck. She looks like Rhaenyra, someone he despises, and even worse, she looks like Alys. It's in the eyes, and his cheeks burn from the realization. She has the same intense eyes, and their hollowed glint tonight makes him think of Alys.

How peculiar, how ironic that it is the first time he actually thinks of her as someone who could weigh in his heart as much as Alys does.

But he doesn't want her to have hopes for their marriage. He doesn't want her to seek for love in him. So he clears his throat and lies.

« Right. » Is all he says, and Rhaelle nods, lips trembling, heart hammering in her chest.

* * *

After their dive into the Blackwater Bay, they all scattered on the beach, shaking to the bone. They lit a bonfire and waited to dry while telling stories.

He only looks at Rhaelle, following her every movement. She's with Lucerys and Helaena, recounting an exciting story about their first dragonflight. She is smiling profusely, not at all affected by their conversation, or so it seems.

Rhaelle falls asleep into Jace's lap an hour later. When it's their time to get back to the Red Keep, Aemond advises against waking her up. He's the only one who has a saddle big enough for two, so he carries Rhaelle onto Vhagar and flies with her asleep in his lap for the ten-minute ride, directly in the yard of the Red Keep. It is too early in the morning or maybe too late at night for anyone to see them, although he doubts no one will sense the shaking of Vhagar's landing into the castle. Vhagar is chivalrous enough to claw up and bring him, a still asleep Rhaelle in his arms, right to the ground without him having to climb down her back. He's never seen the dragon so cooperative, and wonders if it's because of the girl.

He carries Rhaelle to their shared chamber and puts her to bed. He takes a look back before leaving for his own room. She looks peaceful and rested.

* * *

Three months pass in the blink of an eye. Rhaelle's routine is meticulous now. She flies on dragonback in the morning, keeps up with her training right after. She's picked up archery now and is getting better each day. She has tea with Helaena and reads to his grace the king in the afternoon. Every other night, she goes to the city with Aegon, and occasionally, they're in her solar while she draws one of his numerous icons. They've made a game out of it, where she has to guess which ones are his real soulmarks. Their newfound friendship is no secret, even though it ires the queen and makes the court speculate on the nature of their relationship.

Aemond is perfectly cordial to her. He escorts her to dinner and takes her for a stroll in the garden every now and then. That is the extent of their time spent together. He is not as cold as before, but their relationship never expands to skinship in the bedroom. She doesn't question it nor is she asking for more.

On Aegon's 21^th name day, a tourney is held in honor of the king's firstborn son. To Rhaelle's surprise, Aemond has enlisted.

« I wonder who he will give the crown of roses to. » Aegon snickers and she pokes him in his rib for that.

« Cheer for your brother. » She warns him, and he complies, rubbing his side painfully.

Aegon is much more pleasant to her now that she's learned to know him better. She's drawn six of his soulmarks and she is still lost on which one could be a real one.

Aemond's tourney goes well. She spent the previous nights making crowns of flowers in case he should ask for her favor. She pondered over the flower for hours in the garden. She had settled for pink peonies in the end. However, Aemond doesn't seek for it. He enters ready for combat and doesn't spare her a look as he defeats his opponent.

Aegon can sense Rhaelle's disappointment. He has the compassion not to comment on it.

On the second day of the tourney, Aegon proposes to visit her family on Dragonstone with Helaena. Rhaelle face lights up and she hugs him for that, a gesture that is heavily commented and gossiped about around the Red Keep. Aemond witnesses it, but has no kind of reaction to it as he enters the yard on his stallion. He is up against Cregan Stark, the young wolf of the North. Rhaelle has not spoken to him yet nor has he had the time to introduce himself to her. But through the maids, she knows the paramount of the North is popular among the ladies. He is a fine man, and he would've been a finer husband to her - had her mother not stalled the betrothal for the sake of her sapphire soulmate - all of which amounted to nothing except for the dispassionate marriage she has for Aemond.

This time, her husband looks up to her before putting on his helmet. She's too focused on Cregan Stark to notice. Aemond snickers, strangely annoyed by the interaction.

To her surprise, Lord Stark goes up below the royal tent and calls for her. His hair is a dark reddish brown, with a few strands attached to the back. He has one single braid on the left side, which makes him look elegant and princely. His eyes are a winter grey color, and they are intensely gazing up at her.

« Princess Rhaelle Targaryen. I am Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell. My congratulations are in order for your wedding. As you are the most beautiful lady I could ever set my eyes upon, may I ask for your favor on this upcoming joust ? »

The crowd swoons from the interaction, gushing on Cregan's chivalrous nature. Some others whisper about that audacious display of cunning from the Lord, for it could be no coincidence he comes to ask for a favor from his adversary's own wife. Aegon whistles, impressed and wiggles his eyebrows at Rhaelle, who leans on the balcony to look upon Cregan.

Aemond's jaw is clenched, and so are his fists. He feels slighted in his ego. To think his opponent could have the nerve to ask for his wife's favor. He stands on his horse, waiting impatiently for Rhaelle's reaction. It is not about Rhaelle, he declares in his mind, as if to calm his anxiety and anticipation on the jousting match. It's about the wolf wanting to rile him up, using Rhaelle as a pawn. It's a cheap trick and he detests it.

He watches as he sees the gears in Rhaelle's mind working from the distance. She has peonies in her hair, which is finely braided and curled. Her dress is Velaryon turquoise, and even him can admit Cregan's taste are exquisite, for she is beautiful in a way he would never tell her. He scowls, for he cannot anticipate Rhaelle's reaction nor her response to Cregan's courteous demand. He even feels like a twat now, wondering why he'd not asked for her favor first, but he knows he is just being unfairly ridiculous, for he would never have thought twice about Rhaelle today, if not for his opponent's gushing over her.

« It is a pleasure to meet you on this joyous occasion, my Lord. I feel sorry to deny you of my favor, for your opponent is none other than mine husband, on whom I am rooting today for a victory. I really wish you the best on today's jousting, although it saddens me to wish on your misfortune, if not for the sake of my beloved. »

She meets his eye, and although he can't convey in one single glance any of his emotions, he does nod at her from afar, as Cregan gracefully withdraws from the royal balcony. Theirs is a silent war and Rhaelle matches the part today. He watches as she gets back to her seat, under Alicent's silent approval and Aegon's impressed gaze.

On the first round, Cregan's spear breaches Aemond's armor and grazes his thigh, dismounting him.

* * *

He's been tended to ever since he fell off his horse at the tourney. That was two hours ago.

Aemond is asleep when she comes to the infirmary. She's been told his condition was not severe, and he just needed time to heal.

She watches him breathe steadily, hair untied, armorless, rings removed from his fingers. The eyepatch is still covering his eye. She makes a gesture to remove it, but thinks against it after a few seconds, stroking his hair and his temple instead, gently. His face looks almost peaceful and tender.

Then, she remembers his soulmark. This time without second-guessing it, Rhaelle removes his covers a few inches down. He is bandaged down, but the House Strong sigil is looking right at her, a dead tree with million branches reaching out to the sky, that same tree she willed to life in her visit at Harrenhal.

Chapter Text

He wakes up hissing from the faint pain in his thigh and groggy from milk of the poppy. It takes him a moment to take in the setting of the royal infirmary. He is bandaged down and his wounds have been tended to. She's standing next to the window, looking out, and he is startled by his relief to see her.

« Rhaelle. » He calls softly, but he is met with Alys when she turns around.

From behind, they do look similar. It's the same curly long hair, the same build, although he now sees how Alys is thinner than the athletic build of his wife. He should feel better seeing Alys, but he even is surprised of his disappointment.

« She was here an hour ago. You were asleep. » Alys informs him, her voice gentle, as she sits next to him.

« Did she stay for long ? Or say something ? » He is unsettled by his curiosity, his need to ask about her. He blames it all on the confusion from the milk of the poppy.

Alys smiles with affection from his inquiries. He knows her like that, gentle, kind, like she's persuaded that he actually wants to know because he cares for Rhaelle. There's a naiveté about her that he deeply seeks for, as if she still sees him whole, two-eyed, and believes him loving and just shy about his affections to Rhaelle.

« She seemed upset by the injury. She left these. » Alys gestures to the peony crown sitting on his lap. Pink flowers carefully woven together in a perfect circle. He remembers seeing them in her hair that morning, and how it complemented her complexion. That was probably Rhaelle's favor which he never asked for. The one she could've given to the Stark lord but chose not to, out of loyalty to him.

He shakes off the sense of guilt that creeps in before it can fully settle. He thinks it silly that she'd care enough to make them, hoping for his attention. He'd been clear on what she was to expect in their marriage and that was not part of it. Nevertheless, he can't help admiring the handiwork. He knows her craftful and creative, what's with all the drawings in their room. The flowers were carefully picked, fresh, bright and plump. The details are intricate, almost masterful. He's no expert, but he knows that crown of peonies was made with meticulousness and concern. That it was made for him. It stills his breathing for an instant.

* * *

Rhaelle is troubled and relentless and Lyrax can feel it. The ride is bumpy, and the dragon's many acrobatics to entertain its rider from the skies don't particularly help her mood.

To think that Aemond gets the same soulmark as his sister Rhaenyra. How ironic, how hypocritical of him. To name her a Strong bastard to her face, but to fall for one nonetheless. She knows that soulmark could only be for Alys. She'd never fathom the idea it could be for her. She'd seen his soft features, his curved edges while with Alys. That could be no coincidence.

From her understanding, from her experience, love is soft and easy. Daemon is so very loving with her mother, as much as he can be the most dangerous man on Westeros. His eyes soften when he sees her, and it extends so simply to her children, even the one he did not father.

Jacaerys is mischievous and playful, the eldest of seven siblings, and he glows like the sun on the ocean when he looks at Baela, his eyes bright always looking out for her.

Harwin Strong had been described as he was named, muscular, manly, breaking bones from a single strike of his sword. And somehow, she'd seen his molten eyes, his soft demeanor with the princess, and she could still feel his love, years into his death, palpable to the point she willed a tree to life from it.

She recognizes the pattern on Aemond's face and she is no fool in deluding herself that he's not in love with Alys. That soulmark was just a confirmation, something she'd denied for too long.

He is unguarded with Alys in a way he'd never been with her, and that is enough to not fool herself any longer. She makes Lyrax do another few loopings before she decides she's had enough and comes back dejected to the Dragonpit, her heart heavy.

* * *

Aegon's laugh may as well shake the entire infirmary down. He is cackling, perfectly aware of his rudeness and indulging in it all the same under Aemond's annoyed gaze. Mocking his sibling is his favorite activity, and this time he couldn't miss the opportunity.

« This is proof that the gods have humor. Now now, brother, which Strong bastard is actually your soulmate ? »

Helaena is busy with stitchwork, sat on the chair next to Aemond's bed. Aegon is sprawled on the ground, his back to the bed, laughing uncontrollably.

« I'm happy you have a soulmate, Aemond. » Helaena tells him, absently smiling.

« So you're telling me you do not know who this is for. After all, you do have a type. » Aegon continues, tearing up from the laughing. « You've done well coming to the expert. » He smiles proudly, standing up and trying to appear bigger than he really is next to a bedbound Aemond.

« It came about the day before the wedding. » Aemond confesses, his face flushed.

« Well that settles it then. It's Rhaelle. » Aegon concludes, hands in the air. « What is there to debate ? »

« Well, I do not love Rhaelle, brother. I don't even like her. »

« Yet », Aegon adds, a knowing look on his face. « You've married your soulmate. Shocker. Are you going to kill yourself over that ? » He continues, rolling his eyes from his brother's predicament.

« But I... feel for Alys. »

Again, Aegon rolls his eyes so hard he feels they could jump from their orbits. Helaena doesn't comment on it, but she smiles softly at his confession.

« Well then, fuck her and get over your weird childhood infatuation. You've married your soulmate and somehow, that is a problem to you. What an Aemond trait. » Aegon declares, tapping his foot uncontrollably on the ground.

« I told you, I'm not sure she's my soulmate. Have you forgotten she's carved out mine eye ? » Aemond speaks furiously.

« That is a detail, I guess. » Aegon dismisses, a smirk on his face. « Come on, brother. Cease this tryst with Alys. From what I see, the girl isn't even thinking about you like that. »

« I see Rhaelle has grown on you. » He remarks bitterly.

Aegon doesn't deny it. He shrugs, sitting down on Aemond's infirmary bed to meet his eye.

« I actually really like her. She's fun to be around. A bit too intense on the soulmark thing, but I get the appeal, somehow. »

« Does she have one ? A soulmark ? » Aemond asks, and Aegon raises an eyebrow at his brother's sudden interest in his wife.

« Hello ? Of course she has, she has that mirror thing matching Luke. » Aegon grimaces at his brother's lack of attention.

« No I meant, does she have another, apart from that one ? »

At his enquiries, Aegon's face grows into a lazy smirk, exchanging a look with Helaena, who also seems to catch on.

« So you do wish she had one matching yours. » Aegon teases and Aemond scoffs.

« It's not like that. I'm telling you, it's Alys. »

« Alys sees you as the 10 year old she used to help bathe when she was a teenager. I'm telling you, I know about this stuff. »

Aemond catches as Aegon's cheek grow red. It doesn't take long for him to put two and two together.

« Gods, you're in love with Rhaenyra. » He says, his hand on the bridge of his nose from annoyance.

« Well what can I say, I'm my parent's child. » Aegon shrugs again, his face contorted into a resigned smirk.

He pulls off his pants, revealing a soulmark on his calf that appears like a gigantic gash, but as Aemond observes more minutiously, he realizes it is in fact a dragon's claw mark. Inside the gash are yellow scales. How fitting for an unrequited soulmark.

Aemond can't believe it. It's like the whole fucking world is in love with Rhaenyra and somehow he'd forgotten to enlist. He doesn't even recall Rhaenyra ever having a moment with Aegon, so he wonders how he can love her.

It's also the exact instant Aemond realizes the crown will go to Rhaenyra no matter his grandsire's scheming and his mother's foolish hopes. If not for his marriage to Rhaelle bringing in the two branches of the family together and maintaining the realm at peace, it would be Aegon's complete refusal of the crown thrusted upon him by Otto Hightower. Everything makes sense now, Aegon's complete detachment, his drinking, his icons covering his entire body, his whoring, Helaena's impassive reaction to him.

There's is a lost battle. He married Rhaelle to ensure a peace they'd never needed in the first place. He feels so utterly defeated and trapped at that moment, knowing that everything fell perfectly into place all for Rhaenyra's sake, while he not only lost his eye but also his freedom and his bloodline, for it would be forever tainted with the bastard blood he mocked for so long.

Somehow, he knows that is hypocritical of him, for the only ever person he'd ever thought of for marriage and children would be Alys, and she too, is a Strong bastard.

« I'll enquire about any other soulmark on Rhaelle, if you'd like. » Aegon offers gently, patting Aemond's leg.

« It would be very sweet, don't you think ? » Helaena starts, gazing from one to the other. « That you married without knowing you were soulmates. »

« We're not, Helaena. I can never love Rhaelle. » He answers with confidence.

Aegon scoffs and snorts. He pays him no attention.

« You'd do well to be nicer to the girl, Aemond. Find out if she's your soulmate, after all. »

* * *

The moment Rhaelle vows to herself she'll have no hope for their marriage, Aemond's attitude immediately flips on her and she is left confused again. He's noticed she hasn't visited him except for the first day when she left him her favor while he was asleep. He finds her in the training yard a week after at dawn. Daemon had found her a new instructor, for she had deemed Sir Criston Cole ill-suited. It had helped her well. So far she enjoys even new pursuits such as archery and knife-throwing, something she's never done on Dragonstone.

Aemond has not regained his strength as of yet. His thigh is still bandaged and injured, but he is stubborn as ever, refusing to delay his training any further. He's cursed Cregan Stark a hundred times in his head already. The sight of Rhaelle in the yard seems anew to him, although he has seen her in passing dozens of times already.

« Care for a match ? » He says, and though she seems wary, she can't squander the opportunity.

He exhausts himself quicker but is not so disappointed of their display of force. Rhaelle, diligent as ever, is strategic and quick in thought while planning for his take-down. He still limps a little, which she makes use of while charging at him. He finds he quite likes it, the thrill of dodging, like a dance of dragons, like a cat and mouse game. It doesn't feel like battle this time, and so it doesn't seem as much a defeat when she finally catches up to him.

« Yield. » She orders him, sword at his neck, and he complies, hands in the air.

After that, he finds himself in the yard almost every morning before dawn as his injury slowly heals, up for battle with Rhaelle. He likes that she's eager to fight him, for she deems him a worthy opponent. She even shows him a few tricks on archery, but having no fondness of it, with only an eye left, he's keener on just observing her take on the bow. From upclose, Rhaelle is not such a proud princess as he'd thought. She's keen on taking advice from the instructor, she makes room for improvement and is not so defeated-looking while defeated. Rather, he realizes she takes on the skills like an art, and her body is its wielder. To her, it's not so different than painting or crafting or embrodering. She is but the instrument this time.

After their sparring session, she usually helps him get on his horse to join Vhagar for his morning flight. She doesn't join him, nor does she ask for anything, but on mornings where he doesn't come to train, he finds her nestled asleep next to Vhagar, who oddly craddles her as a mother would. Even worse, Vhagar actually claws him up to her back on her instruction, instead of leaving him to fend for himself with the rope ladder atop her saddle. He'd find it endearing if he was not so jealous of the strange bond she has developed with his dragon.

* * *

Rhaelle finds she's content with how married life has fared for her as of now. Aemond has not sought her in the marriage bed, but she's sure it is to come one day or another. They spend hours together almost every morning. She knows it's because he's barred from training again with Sir Criston Cole for now, but she'd like to think their sparring sessions are what help him gain strength each day. She's also the one helping him mount his horse and also mount Vhagar, for the age old dragon only claws her rider up for her. She feels useful but doesn't know if this arrangement will continue once he's better.

She now spend an awful lot of time in the library reading High Valyrian books. She has no instructor and her knowledge of the language isn't infinite. She struggles a lot with her poor vocabulary but thinks she manages well enough. Aemond is often there as well, and they spend long hours silently together in the afternoon. She's found a book she actually enjoys reading, and it has stayed in her nightchamber for weeks now for she finds it's the only thing she truly enjoys before bed. It was the story of Rory Braecker, a simple blacksmith going on adventures to bond with the mighty Nalytsas, one of the last Targaryen dragons of old Valyria. Nalytsas was deemed untameable by Aegon the Conqueror himself once his son Aenys almost got devoured by his flames. The creature was fiecerly wild and independent, having nested on Dragonmount for twenty years.

Rory was supposedly a bastard from House Targaryen, though his parentage was never properly addressed. She had identified with the character for very personal reasons, and had cried many times reading the book. The writing was poetic, soft to the tongue, like a song, and she loved diving into it.

* * *

Rhaelle is not at her usual spot in the training yard that day, and he grows quick with worry. She had never missed a sparring session in a moon. He is quick to her chamber, and finds her abed. She is bewildered to find him there, a hand atop her forehead and she buries herself into her covers.

« What are you doing here ? » She whisper-yells for it is too early in the morning.

« You were not in the yard. Are you well ? » He asks, concerned.

« I just have my monthly courses. I thought it'd be better to skip. » She explains, her cheeks rosy pink.

« Oh. » He manages to say, at loss for words.

« You should go back. Sir Criston Cole will wait for you. » She dismisses him, curved into a ball in her bed.

He should, and he knows she's right. But somehow, he doesn't want to. Instead, he removes his belt and boots and joins her in bed. She shrieks from the gesture.

« Aemond. I'm indisposed. » She reminds him, brows furrowed.

« Well. So am I ? » He counters, gesturing to his thigh. « Can't a husband enjoy his morning in bed with his wife ? »

« Why would you ? We can't couple, Aemond. » She reminds him, blushing, embarrassed he would choose this moment to engage in sexual intercourse with her, after all this time.

He looks at her, mouth agape, before he chuckles.

« I'm not here for coupling. I just wanted to spend the day with you. »

« Can't you find a day I'm not groaning and grumbling from pain all day ? » She remarks, annoyed but glad they are not to have sex in these circumstances.

He takes the covers from her, choosing to drape them upon the both of them. It feels weirdly domestic. The bed is vast and even next to her, he is nowhere near her, which makes it less uncomfortable for the both of them.

« Do you find it suitable ? This new arrangement between us. » She asks after a few minutes, her back to him.

He knows she means their sparring and studying in the library together. Aegon has mocked him a few times about it already. Of course your vision of courting has to do with daggers and books. How boring.

In fact, he is indeed pleased with it. It's not that he despises womanly pursuits, but he is glad that Rhaelle and he share so many in common, starting from their swordsmanship background. That is not to say that his wife isn't womanly. He's seen her embrodery on small blankets she's gifted his sister for the twins, and it was detailed and intricate, a testament of her talent.

« It's far better than what I expected from this marriage. » He answers truthfully.

« I wish for us to be closer. » She confesses.

He doesn't answer, for he doesn't know if they ever could. He's given a lot already, and he is not a man of many affections. Rhaelle still unsettles him, makes him feel uncomfortable in the way a badly healed old wound would.

« I could love you to softness. » She whispers as she drifts off into sleep, her breathing becoming more regular.

He can feel his old wound split back open to fester from her words. Love him to softness, and he wants to scream to the skies.

She sees him as a mission, a project to uncover, layer after layer until he yields himself to her completely and is left with nothing. Rhaelle carved out his body and faced no consequence for it. Now, she wishes to carve his heart too, make him hers, soften him to her touch when she'd never been soft to begin with, having taken out his eye in violence and anger. He can't let her in, he realizes.

* * *

They've taken back to training together in the yard, but Rhaelle feels that Aemond has retreated back into his old self. He's still very proper and polite, but she can feel some kind of wall has been drawn between them. That day, she notices Aegon observing their sparring session, his eyes attentive and impressed.

« Aegon. What a rare occurrence to see you here. » She greets him, and he reaches for her hand once he's near.

He squeezes her fingers a little before letting go, a habit of his. It ticks off Aemond, but he makes a show to appear indifferent to the interaction.

« Rhaelle. Let's have some fun tonight. What do you say ? » Aegon suggests, a lazy smile appearing on his handsome face.

« Can we go to a tavern once again ? » She asks, hopeful, genuinely excited as she approaches him, too close for Aemond to deem proper.

« My princess, we'll go anywhere you want to. » Aegon says in an extravagant gesture of courtesy.

« She'll do no such thing. It's too dangerous. » Aemond cuts them off as he nears them, bursting out their bubble.

He looks annoyed, a vein on his neck bulging out, his jaw clenched. Rhaelle scoffs and dismisses him.

« We've been to Flea Bottom half a dozen of times already. Without you. » She adds. « We'll be fine. »

« That was not a suggestion, Rhaelle. » Aemond counters, his eye fixed on her, cold and unforgiving.

« Are you worried about me ? » She inquires, eyebrow raised, unimpressed. « Or is this but a display of husbandly possessiveness ? »

« We cannot afford to have a princess of the realm drinking herself to oblivion in lowly taverns. One is already enough with Aegon. »

« Offense taken ! » Aegon cries out, indignant at his brother's diss.

Aemond is holding her wrist tightly, forcing her to face him. She's displeased, that much he can tell from her resentful expression. Then, a smirk appears on her face, challenging and inspired by some new mischief he does not want to know about.

« Well, let's fight it out. I'll stay if you win this round against me. »

He cocks his head to the side. He knows he's about to rise to her challenge, for she always manages to get on his competitiveness.

« And if not ? » He queries, eager to hear about his end of the deal were he to lose.

« You'll escort us yourself, so you can see for yourself how we drink ourselves to oblivion. »

Aegon whistles, his laugh heard throughout the yard. Aemond scoffs at that. He's retrieved his drunk out of his mind brother from an obscure inn on the street of silk too many times to count already. He has no desire to do the same for his wife of all people. But his chances of winning are high on Rhaelle, for his injury is almost completely healed, and he feels better movement in his legs. So he accepts.

« Fine. » He finally agrees.

* * *

« Cheer up, brother ! » Aegon snickers next to him as he guides them through the streets of Flea Bottom, Rhaelle in tow.

She's impossibly proud of herself for besting him, he can feel her glow from the other side of his carved out eye.

Aegon and him are wearing capes to hide their silver hair. Rhaelle dit not, her curly brown hair out in the open for all to see. She fits perfectly with the commoner crowd, although her demeanor betrays her upbringing. She's proud looking and too gracious for the smallfolk, having had no difficulty from the moment she was born.

He's still brooding and reluctant to follow them, but he doesn't want Aegon too close to Rhaelle either way, so he figures it's best he comes with. It's not out of jealousy, more that Aegon is a bad influence on Rhaelle, and he doesn't with for harm to come upon her in the city. His mother would never cease blaming him if it ever comes to it, for Rhaenyra's precious daughter is a most high-priced hostage in case his father was to die shortly. He knows somewhat of their plan to put the crown on Aegon, but he's realized it would never pass now, with Aegon enamored with Rhaenyra, and his now strong bond with her daughter.

They've reached a tavern and are invited in, Aegon welcomed as a prince would be. He even looks kingly right now with this newfound popularity among the commonfolk, and Rhaelle eats it up completely. She's admirative and impressed by Aegon's antics, and he can see her eyes sparkling looking at his brother. Aegon invites everyone to drink and knows everyone. He even is attentive, remembering details about the innkeeper and the waitress.

They all drink a dornish wine Aegon's particularly fond of and a few men and women join them, praising the newlyweds and cheering for the crown.

« I told you we'd have fun ! » Rhaelle screams into his ear over the noise as she drinks up.

« I don't know if this is fun, » he counters, sullen as ever. « What do you like so much about this anyway ? »

She smiles, her eyes glazed. She's pretty in a dangerous way, in an Alys way. He doesn't like that he compares them. It feels insincere to both of them.

« I like that for one night, I can be anyone. Free of any bound to the realm or to the crown. » She explains, honest.

He's genuinely surprised. Rhaelle has never appeared ungrateful of her status. He knows she likes the privilege of being a princess. She'd never thought she would ever wish for anything else.

« Is our marriage a bound ? A shakle to you ? » He asks, gulping, almost nervous about her answer.

She drinks some more, and appears to be pondering over the matter greatly. She's scratching the crown of her head mindlessly, her lips red from the wine.

« Perhaps not our marriage. Just you. » She finally admits.

« How so ? » He enquires, even more curious now.

But Aegon's taken to dancing now and he takes Rhaelle by the arm, bringing her into a cheery commoner dance he knows no footsteps of. She gulps her wine and follows him, dancing her night away, completely entranced by the music. Aemond stays there, watching her dance drunkenly and chaotically, but the happiest she's ever seen him, in his brother's arm. He can feel a pull to his stomach from the interaction, but doesn't act on it, instead drinking his wine sullenly.

She has another cup of wine when she comes back.

« I could've married my soulmate, if not for you. » Rhaelle answers to his former question once she's settled into her chair. She's blushing from the wine and appears drunk already.

« Lucerys. » He spits out, almost bitterly.

« No, » she immediately whines. « The other one. »

So she does have another soulmark, he realizes. A soulmate he knows nothing of. Someone she's meant to love, or perhaps already loves.

Somehow, it makes him proud. To know that he took from Rhaelle what another was meant to have. He married, kissed, and bedded her first, a privilege that she was sure to give to another in her lifetime, was it not for him. That was his revenge, the payment for his eye she so carelessly put out. And somehow, it makes him uneasy too. Because he realizes he is the one who intruded on this. He had a say in this, and he still chose nonetheless to marry her. It was deliberate and he changed Rhaelle's course, just for her to be as miserable as him.

« Do you regret our marriage ? » He dares ask her, for he knows she's only bold enough to answer because she's drunk.

« Dance with me, and I'll tell you. » She challenges, and once again, he rises up to her dare.

Seeing them both standing up riles Aegon up, who howls and whistles at their sight. The commonfolk cheer up as well and she shows him a few footsteps before they join the crowd. It's not so different from their sparring. She's always called their fighting matches a dance of dragons, and now he gets it. They're joining hands all over the place, their bodies parting and meeting to the rhythm. He understands he quite likes it, a fire burning in his stomach, his heartstring pulled from every corner of his heart. Rhaelle's hair is everywhere, the locks thick between his fingers, her eyes are bright and jolly, so different from Alys', and her wide smile puts his mind at ease. She looks soft, gentle, nothing like the wild girl who blinded him so many years ago, and he can't bear this contradiction. She looks everything at once, beautiful, willful, cheerful and he feels like he's lost his vision in both eyes, seeing her like that.

So once the music stops and they're right in the middle of the crowd, men and women all alike chanting and screaming « Kiss! Kiss ! Kiss ! », and he sees her wide-eyed and blushing, he finally fills the gap between them and puts his lips on hers. After a few seconds of pure shock on her face, she responds to the kiss hungrily, as if drinking up the wine from his lips. He can hear Aegon whistling in the background, and he can't help himself smiling into the kiss before parting from her. Her cheeks are fiery red and he finds her absolutely lovely like that.

« I'd still choose to marry you. » She whispers into his ear, still blushing profusely and smiling all the same.

* * *

Rhaelle faces a terrible headache the next morning. Her memories of the night aren't clear nor believable to her. She remembers clearly kissing Aemond, and the way the kiss ignited something inside of her, from her stomach to the tip of ther toes. It felt so raw and magical she's almost persuaded it was a dream.

The corners of her mouth seem to be pulled upward the whole day. She can't help but smile, as if that memory of a kiss had changed her life. She smiles as she mounts Lyrax, as she enjoys a stroll in the gardens with the twins and Helaena, as she reads in the library about an ointment to prevent physical pains. When she realizes she can't find Aemond, she reaches for his door from their shared chamber. The room is fully dark and the curtains completely drawn, though it is already late in the day. Aemond is in bed. She realizes something doesn't seem quite right as she hears him groaning in pain and frustration.

« Aemond ? » She calls him, about to touch him, but as soon as she nears, he slaps her hand away.

He's holding his carved out eye area with his other hand, the eyepatch gone, and his good eye flashes at her with nothing but fury.

« What are you doing here ? » He spits out, his voice cold and aggressive. « Get out. »

« You're in pain. Do we need to call a maester ? » She asks, concerned, reaching for him once again, but he backs down into his covers.

« No. Call Alys. » He orders her, and she can feel her stomach drop hearing that.

« Why her ? »

« Why are you questioning me ? » He counters, frustration changing his face into a scowl. « We're nothing to each other. »

« But... We're not nothing. » She trembles as she utters the words. « We kissed yesterday. » She reminds him, and he starts to laugh, his hand still hiding the scar in his eye.

« We kissed under duress, pressured by the commonfolks to do so. Don't mistake that for a relationship. We're nothing, not family, not in love, we're not even married to me. I don't like you and this pain, I feel because of you. »

He's awfully cold, his words stabbing her, and she feels herself shaking. He's kissed her like she was the most precious thing on Westeros, and now, he's telling her to get his real lover in his time of need. She should've known they could not mend their quarrel for she was the one who inflicted this on him. She could only blame herself, for she had first drawn blood, so long ago, in a moment of fear, panic and love for her brother.

« I thought it meant that... »

« It meant nothing. You've carved my eye out. We can never have a normal marriage. To think you'd be swayed by a mere kiss. You're completely delusional a girl. » He mocks, but his face turns into a painful grin from the soreness. « Go get Alys. You're no help to me. »