Chapter Text
209 AC - Autumn
Sena and Aerion arrived in Blackfyre the day summer turned to autumn.
The leaves still clung to the trees, green and lush. But the air was turning dry and biting at the tips of ears and noses.
Blackfyre Keep could be seen, looming over the tree tops. Awful black stone splitting the skyline and pulling one's eye to it. It was a festering wound, horrible and rancid and demanding of attention.
Their plan was simple.
They’d break through the glass windows to the cellars and slip through. Picking their way up through the castle to the
Village talk had told them that only two, possibly three sell swords remained in Aegor’s keep. Most having turned tail the moment he became too unwell to manage his finances and settle his debts. As had most of his household staff.
The only ones who stayed, stayed out of fear or some notion that when their stricken lord recovered they would be rewarded.
Sena knew better than the villagers.
She knew that some of those within the walls of Blackfyre stayed for an entirely different reason. To finish what she herself had started with whispered words.
Monkshood. He’ll not be able to raise his head from his bed, much less his hand to your sisters.
The moment Sena heard of Aegor’s sickness she thought of bright blue eyes and rough hands. Of a little laundry maid with a spirit that rivaled her own.
Sena knew Livia was still within the keep, that she stayed out of hope for something better. For the end of a lifetime of torment. Livia stayed on under the pretense of Sena’s promises.
If you do not believe I will come back for you, believe I will come back for your Lord.
Today, Sena would get to keep her word.
Aerion’s cloak covered fist went through the low window on the first try, the sound of glass shattering inward. Falling like hail onto the stone floor of the cells below.
He'd only just finished removing the remaining chards from the sill before she slid through, boots crushing broken glass as she dropped into the room below.
She sucked in a breath as her eyes adjusted to the low light.
Sena was back in the cells she’d spent a month captive in. Back in the place she’d near gone mad, where she’d spat and hurled at guards, where she’d learnt to trust Aerion. Except this time, she stood on the outside of the cells looking in.
She grasped the iron bars looking into the space which had held them, it seemed impossibly smaller from the outside.
“Sena” Aerion’s voice pulled her from the memories, “It’s too narrow for me”.
Aerion was on the other side of the window, crouched and looking down into the cells. His brow was creased, not with frustration but with a nervousness she’d not yet seen.
“Come back out, we’ll find another way in,” He told her, hand jutting through the window.
Aerion’s voice was soft, he spoke the way you might talk to a frightened animal. Giving a soothing characteristic to your words so that the creature didn’t take off to somewhere you couldn’t follow.
Sena took a step backwards, they hadn't the time. Besides they’d spent the entirety of yesterday scouring the castle for a discrete entry point. This was the only one they’d found.
“I’ll be quick, not even half an hour,” Sena told him.
“No."
“I’ll be fine,” She told him, and she spun on her heel. Setting off down the corridor, passed rows of empty cells, till she reached the end of the holdings and slipped out.
She made her was up into the living quarters in no time. She remembered the way of course, the walk from the cells to the dining hall had been branded in her memories.
Dressed in maids linens and an apron, her rings and fineries tucked away back at Summerhall and muddied from weeks on the road. Sena hoped she could do what all maids did and blend in with the tapestries of the Keep.
It looked different from last she was here. Dust gathered on stones, it hung in the air too, like the windows hadn't been opened and the rooms not aired in quite some time. Mouse droppings littered the floors of the outer rooms, only tinning the closer to the central quarters she got.
Sena was so caught up in her observations that she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps till she rounded the corner and collided with a warm body.
The woman she’d sent skittering backwards loosed a shocked shriek.
Sena pounced on her, hand clamping over mouth. The woman’s bright blue eyes went wide as dinner plates, brows pitched up in fear.
Livia Sena thought.
No. Sena’s eyes dropped to where her hand covered the woman’s mouth, her thumb brushed a thick red scar, that ran up the girl's cheek disappearing into her hairline at her temple
It was not Livia, but her words rang in Sena’s head. He was so angry he split her face open, cheek to temple.
It was the sister, Helena.
Slowly Sena pried her hand from Helena’s mouth.
The woman didn’t make a sound, though she shook with fear.
Sena stepped back slowly, the sound of footsteps filled the corridor and this time Sena heard it.
Her eyes widened, meeting Helena’s.
Helena seemed to have recovered herself, because she pushed the basket of linens into Sena’s hand and jerked her head down the corridor.
“Third on the left” She whispered, before turning on her heel and going back the way she’d come.
Another gift from another sister. Sena didn’t waste it, skittering down the hall in the direction Helena had nodded to. She counted the doors, one and two and three.
It was plain, nothing remarkable about it and most importantly, it was unguarded.
Sena slipped in, placing the basket of linens on a desk and closing the door quietly behind her.
She didn’t waste her time with observations here, Sena slipped the steel blade from her boot and advanced on the bed, draped in red curtains. When she pulled them back, she was met with the sight of Bittersteel, asleep on white linens.
He looked dead already. His brow beaded with sweat, eye sockets hollow and his skin gaunt.
Sena supposed she didn’t really need to be here, he was well on his way. Slitting his throat would be a mercy he didn’t deserve. But there was something karmic in the way she’d imagined it, something healing in the thought of his blood spilling over her blade.
So Sena perched at the side of the bed and pressed the tip of it to his throat. Aegor didn’t flinch, even as she dug the edge in and let it bite at the waxy flesh.
Just as satisfaction was moments away, when it lay at the very tip of her blade. Sena heard shuffling from beyond the door, she’d barely had time to turn before it opened.
A familiar mess of mousy brown hair and bright blue eyes tumbled into the room, pulling the door shut firmly behind her.
“I thought she was lying,” Livia said, breathless.
She strode up to Sena, a wild grin on her face. Stopping just short of the Princess, one arm stretched and hovering between them like she needed to touch her to be sure she was real.
“You’ve looked better,” Sena commented, she grasped Livia’s lingering hand and squeezed.
Livia looked awful, her blue dress hung from her like she’d lost several pounds since their last meeting, her hair had turned stringy and her eyes hollowed.
The girl shrugged, “Food has been scarce without his Lordship to pay our wages”.
Sena felt a pit growing in her stomach, she had caused this.
“It has been worth it, seeing him like this” Livia nodded her head towards Bittersteel, “Sometimes I come in here just to spit on him”
Something darker had washed over Livia’s face and Sena wondered if spitting was the worst revenge Livia had enacted, she raised a brow.
“I’m fucked if he recovers”
“Then we best make sure he doesn’t”
A grin split at Livia’s lips, her gleaming eyes met Sena’s as she perched herself by Aegor’s pillows.
“You’ll do it with that” She asked, head nodding to the blade in Sena’s hand.
Sena flipped the steel over in her hand, looking between it and Livia. But Livia’s attention was undivided, set on Aegor with intent. Her fingers grasped the pillow case Aegor’s head was rested on, rolling the edge of the fabric between her thumb and forefinger with so much pressure her skin went white.
There was a hunger in the movement that Sena recognised every time she looked in the mirror.
“Would you like to do the honours?” Sena asked, holding the hilt of the blade out towards her.
Livia looked up, startled.
“No, I can’t”, it was an instinctive response.
“Do you want to?” Sena pressed.
Livia when silent, eyes flittering between the blade and Aegor.
Eventually, she nodded, but made no move to take the blade from Sena’s palm. Instead she tilted her head back to Bittersteel.
“I am going to tell you something,” Sena said.
“Mmh?” Livia’s eyes were still glued to Aegor’s decaying figure, fingers still toying with the fabric of the pillow case.
“I have always liked to ride in the mornings. I’d wake before dawn and be in the saddle just as dawn was breaking”
Livia worried her lip between her teeth.
“When I was fourteen, House Umber came to Winterfell, I don’t remember what for. But I do remember Lord Umber's nephew, a tall, broad boy. He was a few years older than I was and one morning, when I took off riding, he followed”
Livia finally dragged her eyes from Aegor and settled them on Sena. She released her lip from between her teeth with a soft puckered sound.
“He caught up to me in the woods, I wasn’t being careful. It was my home, my forest, I had no need to be careful. But he caught me by surprise and knocked me from my horse.”
Sena’s gaze hardened at the memory, old anger welled inside her.
“He told me I was wild. He told me I needed taming. I slit his throat before he got the chance”
The slight parting of Livia’s lips was the only sign of her shock.
“I dragged the body to a wolf’s den and let them have it. By the time they found it, they could not tell my blade work from the wolves claws. There wasn’t enough of him left.” Sena paused for a moment, flipping the blade in her palm over, “I’ve never told anyone this”
“Why are you telling me?” Livia asked, she sounded more afraid than Sena had ever seen her.
“Because you are going to kill Bittersteele and I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that this will stay between us. You deserve your vengeance and I shall do everything in my power to ensure it doesn’t come back to bite you ” Sena told her.
Livia was silent for a moment, before she nodded, slowly but firmly.
Sena held the blade out but Livia pushed it away with a calloused finger.
“Not like that,” She said.
Instead Livia grasped the pillow she had been toying with, taking it in both hands and hovering it above Bittersteel’s face.
“It will take longer,” Sena cautioned.
Livia pulled her lip back between her teeth, “I don’t want to look at him”
Sena nodded, she shifted on the bed leaning over Bittersteele to press her body weight over his legs. He shifted beneath her weakly, letting out a soft moan but his eyes never opened.
“If you’re certain,” she said.
Livia nodded before plunging the pillow down over his face.
She held firm, arms tenses even as muffled moans began to slip from under the pillow. Even as his body began to writhe and Sena pressed forward, pinning his legs and hips to the bed under the weight of her. Even as he scratched at her arms and hands with the very last of his strength, Livia held firm.
Once the twitching had subsided and Sena had told her it was done, Livia slunk to the floor, curling the pillow into her chest.
She looked so small, a little figure in sprawling linens. She ought to have looked precious, fragile, like something meek. But Livia’s sweat spotted face wore satisfaction, a surety that made her seem older than she had been just moments before.
“How do you fe-”
The door clicked open before Sena could finish her question.
Both girls jumped at the sound, whirling to face the intruder.
“Aerion” Sena hissed once she recognised the white hair poking out from under his hood.
Furious purple eyes flickered over her, taking in the blade she had angled towards him on reflex.
“I should bend you over my knee” He hissed back, teeth gritted, “Disapearing into Blackfyre fucking Keep by yourself. If you had just waited one moment, we could have found another way in. But no, you must do everything yourself. How have you survived thus far you hot headed imbecile"
Aerion approached her as he spoke, plucking the dagger from her hand and yanking up her skirts so he could kneel and slip it into the scabbard at her boot.
As he rose, his eyes caught on Livia. She stood just behind Sena, pillow still clutched in her grip, like she might smother Aerion with it if she needed to.
Aerion looked back at his wife, cocking a brow.
“Is he dead?” Aerion asked.
Sena nodded, she stepped aside so that Aerion could see the body. Aegor’s skin looked even more grey, now the life had been snuffed from his lungs.
“A tad clean for you?” Aerion asked Sena, “Were you feeling merciful?”
His eyes flickered back to Livia, to the pillow in her grip.
“Rightious” Sena replied, “I was feeling righteous”
Aerion nodded, “I suppose justice had been dealt. Thank the Seven” he drawled his eyes barring into her. He was still angry about her taking off by herself and Sena would be hearing about it later.
“Him” Livia’s incredulous voice interrupted their silent quarrel.
“Hmm?” Sena mused, tearing her eyes from her husband.
“You brought him with you?” Livia asked, disapproval marked all her features. No efforts were made to hide it.
“I’ll have your he-”
Sena cut him off “He is my husband”
“You married him?” Livia asked in disbelief.
“He’s not so bad” Sena bit back, offence began to leak into her words.
“I am and I’ll have your head, you little shit. I’m a Prince of the fucking blood and you’ll treat me as such”
Livia gave Sena another aspirated look, and Sena considered murdering her husband. She had, after all, deprived herself of spilling blood she had been promised.
“Go” Sena told Livia, “Before the guards return”
Livia did as she was bid, tossing the pillow back on the bed and rushing for the door. When she reached it she froze.
“Thank you” she told Sena.
Sena nodded, a sad smile at her lips, “If you ever need work, come to Summerhall. You’ll be welcome there” she told her.
“No you won’t. Don’t you fucking dar-”
But Livia had already closed the door behind her.
“What was that?” Aerion asked his wife, eyes wide.
She stepped forward, slinging her arms around his shoulders, “I was repaying a debt” and she pressed a kiss to his lips.
The creases in Aerion’s brow softened immediately, his anger dissipating the moment her lips touched his.
He grabbed her hip and tugged her into his side, so that they both faced Bittersteel’s body.
“Now, what to do about the body” Aerion mused.
“I was hoping you’d take care of it” Sena told him, head lolling against his chest.
“Oh? You think me a manservant?” He asked.
“No. But I am a traditionalist. I believe that men should bury the corpses and women should carry the babies," she teased.
Aerion’s chest heaved as he chuckled, “Sena, you believe women should run around swinging swords”
She straightened, head turning to face him, “A Lady can do both, a babe in one hand and a sword in the other”
He only laughed harder, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he did, “I would like to see it, shall I put a babe in you?” he asked and Sena flushed red.
Despite their near constant relations since the wedding, Sena still blushed at the mention of anything crass and Aerion still took great pleasure in making her blush.
“I think the corpse in the room rather kills that sentiment, don’t you?” Sena asked.
Aerion took a pensive look at Aegor’s body, “I suppose we just leave him?”
Sena frowned.
“It’s not such a terrible idea. He’s unblemished, who’s to tell he didn’t succumb to his sickness?” Unfortunately Aerion was making sense and Sena did not like it.
“You wanted to send a message, you wanted people to know that you did not fear him. I know. But this is safer, he still had followers in Tyrosh. We do not want to make an enemy of them” Aerion reasoned.
Sena let out a frustrated cry, she knew he was right.
His hand found her back, rubbing soothing circles at the base of her spine, “I know you like to live with very little regard for the consequences of your actions. But now you must factor me into your life, I care what happens to you and I will not stand to watch you do something that puts you in harms way”
“Damn you” Sena muttered, but a sad smile tugged at her lips.
“Let us go, before we are caught” Aerion told her, and he tugged her from the room.
Sena took one last look at Bittersteel’s festering body and savoured the satisfaction, it would have to do.
209 AC - Winter
“You killed Bittersteel”
“I did not” Sena protested, her fingers dug into the arms of her chair with a vice-like grip.
They’d been at her for hours, Brynden, Maeker and Baelor even.
Sena and Aerion had returned from their unsanctioned honeymoon a month prior, and now the news of Bittersteel’s coinciding death had finally reached Summerhall. Though the news reported that he died of an illness, Sena’s new family were wiser. Or perhaps they just knew her too well.
Aerion and Sena were dragged to Maeker’s office for interrogation once again.
“Then you know who did” Brynden’s patience was thinning. He did misliked not being able to beat what he wanted from people, questioning was tedious and unreliable in his opinion.
“It was not by my hand”
“Then whose?”
Sena pursed her lips together, shooting Brynden a pointed look, she would not tell.
“This is not a time for honour Sena” Baelor drawled, his voice unusually tight. It seemed all the Targaryen’s patience was being worn thin.
Still she said nothing, shoulders squared in her seat.
Brynden tired a new tactic, “I will not enjoy bleeding it from you girl, but should I have to I will”
Beside her Aerion went taut, she reached under the table pressing her palm into his thigh, a thumb strumming over the fabric of his breaches.
“It would be fruitless” She replied, voice even.
“It will not happen!” Aerion spat, “You will not lay a fucking hand on my wife”
Brynden’s eyes narrowed on his nephew, Maeker interjected, “No one is laying a hand on the Princess. However I would remind her of loyalty to her house and to her Kingdom and bid her to tell us who murdered Bittersteel”
“It matters not, it is done and as far as anyone outside of this room is concerned, he died of an illness”
“It matters because if we are to believe you, someone out there killed Lord Rivers. And someday they may wish for the world to know. Can you see how that would cause issue for us? It is a loose end, you know how I loath loose ends Sena ” Bryden growled.
Sena shook her head, “I tie a neat knot”
She tapped her cup, one long finger rapping on the rim twice and a blue eyed serving girl stepped forward to fill her cup. No one in the room noticed the two women’s eyes meeting, the look that passed between them. Nor did they notice the maid who brought fresh carafes of wine into the room, the pink scar that ran from her cheek to her temple, or the way she watched on with eager eyes.
Sena never did tell the Prince’s nor the blood raven who killed Bittersteel, she took that secret to her grave.
210 AC - Spring
Sena did not see as much of her Brother’s in law as she had hoped to, living at Summerhall.
Daeron was around the castle, but much of the time he floated between halls and rooms in a wine soaked stupor. No attentions from Sena, Aerion or Maeker helped to stay his heavy hand pours, any attempts to dry him out ended in catastrophe.
But there were moments, in the mornings when he had not drunk quite so much, when he was quiet and pensive and open to conversation and moments in the evenings. Early in the evenings, before he’d drowned himself. When Daeron would laugh and jest and spend time with his family.
Aegon had gone to squire for Dunk, setting off for Dorne not long after Sena and Aerion had departed on their quest for revenge.
They returned almost a full year later, Egg three inches taller with choppy white hair atop his head and Duncan as tall and kind as ever.
The spring evenings began to stretch longer and Sena savoured the afternoons they’d spend in the gardens bickering and playing chess. Even sparring with practice swords, which she discovered was Aegon’s favourite pass time. After a year on the roads, he was eager to prove himself and insisted on sparring almost every afternoon.
Sena enjoyed it, Aegon reminded her of Beron. Over eager and enthusiastic, but lacking in swiftness and skill. Most importantly Aegon lacked the ferocity for it, the focused lust for the violence of the competition. He would make an adequate swordsman, but not a great one. Still he tried.
Sena called for a rest after the fifth bout, picking her brother in law out of the dirt she’d cast him down onto.
With her back turned, Sena didn’t hear the insult her husband leveled against Aegon.
“I’d like to see you try” Egg quipped, his tone biting.
“I am merely noting, that your education in swordplay has been inadequate thus far” Aerion drawled, not even bothering to lift his head from where he lay soaked in afternoon run.
“Your wife is an excellent swordsman- woman, my apologies sister” Egg’s eggs darted cautiously towards her, “She bloodied you up well enough at Ashford, and you were older and more experienced than I”
Aerion finally pressed up on his below’s, an irritated glare gracing his features.
“And yet, she is now my wife. I’d say I left Ashford victorious"
Sena raised her brows at this, but Aerion continued his pompous babbling before she could protest.
“Besides, I am simply making the point that you need to practice more, and employ better tutors. Daeron’s swordsmanship is beyond help”
“Hey” Daeron called, brow pinched in offence and confusion. As though he couldn’t understand just why he was being dragged into this.
“And Aemond is off with the Maesters, we simply cannot afford another failure in the family. You must strive to better yourself, become more like me”
Daeron rolled his eyes, “Egg, go fetch Aerion’s high horse so he may climb atop it”
Sena snorted, caging the laughter that threatened to spill.
“I shall” Egg replied, his tone less teasing and more biting than Daeron’s, “Then he may ride it up the hill he intends to die on”
Daeron and Sena laughed openly, lying back in the grass as Aerion pushed to his feet and took off after his brother. A wicked gleam in his eyes as he chased Egg around the graden’s they’d commandeered for their afternoon.
These moments were her favourite, the ones beyond court. The ones filled with laughter and ridiculousness, the moments that felt so very free from all constraints and so very full of love.
Sena’s bliss only lasted three more days, for on the fourth day news of the Spring sickness came to Summerhall and the following week a summons. The King was dead, Baelor, Valarr and Matarys with him and Maeker Targaryen was to ascend the throne.
210 AC - Summer
At first, it seemed not much had changed. They had been moved to the Red Keep, yes. Baelor and his lineage were gone, yes. There was an emptiness about the once full hall, yes. But the Targaryen’s went about the keep with a single minded devotion not to acknowledge the change.
No one commented on Maeker’s cutting coldness, that only seemed to grow with every day that the world turned without his brother in it.
Daeron was politely swept out of feasts, meetings and luncheons whenever he drank himself into stupor. Which was a near daily occurrence.
And Aegon spent more and more time away from King’s Landing. Sena supposed it was easier to pretend the realm-altering change incited by Baelor’s death had not occurred when he was not walking the halls haunted by it.
The privacy of their rooms was the only place that offered any reprieve from it.
It was there that Sena and Aerion could pretend the world did not feel horribly wrong. They could still squabble and laugh and carry on as normal without the weight of it all.
But there were nights that Aerion brought the haunting mood of the keep into their rooms, when he entered stiff spined and drawn lipped. Pulled tight as a bow string, unable to unleash in the day’s meeting, unable to work out his anger in cruel words and violence, lest he incur Maeker’s ire.
Aerion had stormed into their rooms and yelled at his manservant for not having his super ready. He’d slammed every room in their quarters (twice) and snapped three quills from where he sat, scribbling trade notations at his desk.
Sena slunk over to her husband, hair down and dressed in her night slip.
“You are getting slow” Sena told him, perching herself on the edge of his desk. Aerion did not look up from his writing.
“What?” He muttered, jabbing the quill into the ink pot furiously.
“I watched you train this morning, you are getting slow. And your strength wanes too, Ser Rolland’s arms use’t to shake with exertion each time he blocked your strikes. He did not shake this morning”
Aerion cut her a glare, “My father has me caught up in councils and meetings, I scares have time to train anymore. What would you expect?”
Sena let her hand drift closer, fingers brushing against the edge of his parchment.
“I expect a little shaking, sweat too. If you are to stand a chance against my blade”
Aerion ignored the barb, his attention flicking back to his penwork.
It was to be a challenge then. Sena loved a challenge.
“Ser Crakehall sweats a lot. So much so that this morning he left the yard with his shirt clinging to his chest, perhaps you sho-”
The tip of Aerion’s quill snapped so violently that it splattered ink across the desk, droplets pooling on his fingers.
He looked up at her with his teeth bared, furious, something nasty poised on his tongue. But he caught her eye and froze, marked the amusement there and charted the fire in it. He was being toyed with.
“You are vexing me, intentionally”
“I am” Sena’s mouth turned up in a sly smile.
“Might I know why you wish to wind me up?” Aerion asked, brow still pinched.
“You need a distraction. Besides, I enjoy winding you up. It is great entertainment and that is seemingly hard to come by these days” Sena told him.
“You are lucky that I like being vexed by you” his voice deepened, finally the frustration of the day melted from it. With slackening shoulders and a softening spine, Aerion reached for Sena’s hand, to drag his fingers across the back of her knuckles.
“Oh?” Sena asked, unable to keep the anticipation from her voice.
“It makes my blood hot” hot fingers trailed up her bare arm now, drawing lines in ink as they went.
“That is all I am to you, some sick obsession?” the offence was fabricated, and Aerion knew it.
“You say it as if our spats don’t have the same effect on you.” Aerion’s hand reached her shoulder, thumb running over the curve of it. No doubt leaving more ink in it’s wake.
“Maybe, but I hold greater affection for you than just a perverse fascination” Sena told him.
“As do I, do I not show you so? In our bed?”
Sena snorted.
“Oh come now, you cannot claim that I am inattentive” Aerion snapped, real offence clipped his words.
“You are…. satisfactory” Sena drawled, she was enjoying this.
“Lies! You are merely too proud to admit it” Aerion tugged at her waist, pulling her from the desk into his lap. He hitched her thighs round his hips so that she was straddling him, back pressed against the edge of the desk. “No matter, I do not need you to admit it. Not when I make your legs shake and all you can do is moan my name”
Sena went red, hand coming to smack him over the head but he caught it and used it to pull their chests flush.
“Aerion” he keened out his own name in a high pitched imitation of Sena, punctuating it with a kiss to her neck. “Aerion” another kiss, “Aerion” another, that lingered at her pulse point.
“Perhaps this was your plan all along” he murmured, dragging his lips down the length of her throat, “rile me up and let me exhaust myself trying to prove how attentive I can be”
He kissed the skin peaking over the neckline of her underclothes, hands cupping her backside with a splayed fingered grip and rolling her forward over the length of him. Sena was quickly losing her capacity for witticism.
“Would you stop?” She said breathily, hands coming to grip his shoulders for leverage so she could rock back and forth on his lap. “Now you know my plan, would you deny me?”
Aerion groaned, his hands fisting in her skirts gently tugging, coaxing her to go faster, harder.
“Never, I could never deny you” he told her, lips returning to her neck, she couldn’t cage the soft ahhh that fell from her lips when he bit down.
She felt him laugh against her, he was laughing still when he stood. Hands holding her bottom, her legs bracketed around his hips and walked them to the chaise.
“I should warn you wife, I intend wring pleasure from you over and over again till you beg me to stop and then I shall wring just a little bit more”
“You never did lose your sadistic streak”
“The only thing I loose around you is my mind”
With that Aerion set her down on the chaise and did exactly what he promised.
Their first child came in the Summer the following year, a brown-haired boy with striking purple eyes. He was named Edric, after Sena’s father and his arrival into the world had his cutting and wild parents instantly besotted.
(Winter 212AC)
The winter they spent in the North was Sena's favorite.
To show Aerion her home, her people, all the things that made her her. Though he bemoaned the cold, Sena knew he didn’t mind Winterfell. Not when he got to spend the evenings curled around her, huddled under furs. The days watching her ride along snow laced paths, cheeks flush and dark curls rippling behind her.
And the feasts were more tolerable than those held at court, there was less pretense. Northerners said what they wished and conducted themselves honestly. Rumors held no merit, grudges were not kept. It was a place for enjoyment and merriment, for distraction from the cold.
It helped greatly that the Tyrell’s had been invited to Winterfell and Sena was reunited with Lilliana for the first time since Ashford.
By now Lilliana was a woman, she was not taller or really any different looking from when she was ten and six. But Lilliana was different in all the ways that matter, more confident, more measured and the mischievous glint in her eye had morphed into something lethal. She was beautiful in the way a rose was, soft and rich in visage, with thorns that pricked.
Sena waited each evening, for the moment the plates were cleared and the guests were free to move about the hall. When Lilliana would, seek her out at the head table and they’d spend the evening up to absolutely no good.
Tonight, Sena sat with Beron, Aerion had disappeared to watch Lord’s Karstark and Mormont challenge each other to an ale drinking competition. Sena didn’t notice Lilliana’s approach till she squeezed herself between the cousins, skirts splaying out.
Sena did not miss the way Beron’s eyes widened at her arrival and he shuffled back discreetly, allowing space propriety demanded be kept between young unmarried lords and ladies, the space Lilliana did not care for.
“Save me from this evening” Lilliana moaned, hand clutching at Sena’s fore arm, “I am feasting with my closest friend and my mother would have me working”
“Oh?” Sena questioned, “what work would she have you do?”
“She would have me seduce Lord Redwyne, she’d like to know whether he has designs to abandon his trade agreements with House Beesbury now their lord is dead”
Beron sorted, choking on his wine at her words.
“Not to bed!” Lilliana laughed, “I would not ruin myself on someone so unfortunate looking”
Sena launched a swift kick to her friend's shin, lest anyone overheard their improper conversation, Lilliana pinched her thigh in response.
“Besides, I do not need to take men to bed to get what I need from them” Beron turned a brilliant shade of red, “One can seduce a man whilst remaining perfectly chaste, if one knows what she is doing”
Lilliana tossed a knowing look at Sena, who most definitely did not know what she was doing when it came to the precise art of seduction.
Beron and his impervious morals spoke up, “It would be dishonourable if he did, break the trade agreements I mean”
“Quite!” Lilliana tipped her head to him, Sena did not miss the inquisitive look her friend shot Beron, eyes raking over his face, mapping it, before her lips pulled up in a lovely (mischivious) smile. Beron was in danger.
“Mother and I quite like honeyed wine, and the coin that comes from facilitating the trade of that wine throughout the realm ” Lillian continued, angling her body ever so slightly towards Beron.
Sena was about to witness a demonstration of chaste seduction.
Beron, however, was oblivious to Lilliana’s game, brow drawn in thought, “And you must seduce him for this information?”
“Mmmmh, it is a subtle kind of warfare” Lilliana told him, “there is power in knowing things men do not suspect you of wanting to know. Information given freely, without suspicion is more valuable, and oft more honest”
He nodded contemplatively, though his face remained troubled like he’d never considered this. It was fair enough, he was a young and green lord and in the North, things were simpler, men said what they wanted. There was little room for the sly of hand and deception that ran deep in foundations of the southern courts.
“Now” Lilliana pressed her palms to the table, a grin that promise trouble on her mouth, “Ask me how it is done”
Sena laughed, but obliged her friend, “How is it done?”
Lilliana’s grin morphed into something more sly, more sultry, “slowly”
“First you must introduce yourself” She twisted towards Beron, “Lord Stark, such a pleasure to see you here”
She offered her hand to him, Beron froze, staring at the delicate, unmarred hand before him. She cocked an eyebrow and he took it, pulling it up to his mouth slowly and pressing a gentle (but confused) kiss to it. Beron had no idea where Lilliana’s game was heading, seven help him.
“Then you must get him talking” She said, tossing a wicked look at Sena, “Tell me Beron, how was your day?”
Beron obliged her, recounting his day in brain numbing monotony. You would not have believed it a boring tale, not by Lilliana’s reaction, she hung off his every word.
As he spoke, Lilliana whispered to Sena, “Then, you must touch him”
Her fingers dragging ever so slowly to touch lightly at his shirt sleeves, “With a gentle hand, so light that he will wonder if you touched him at all”
Beron’s knuckles went white where his hand strangled the stem of his wine glass, breath hitching in. He went silent, his story forgotten.
She almost laughed, Sena sometimes forgot he was still just a young man of twenty and one, it was entertaining to see him flustered by Lilliana’s closeness.
“Now steer the conversation in a useful direction, but gently, he must not suspect a thing. Ask about his lands, not his trade or his court. Ask what the weather is like, is it beautiful? Do they have rolling mountains? Flowing rivers?” Lilliana did not break from Beron’s eye as she spoke, her face soft and open. She was the picture of innocent wonder.
“Listen to everything he tells you, hand on his every word like he is the most interesting man in the room. It is an easy thing to make him believe, all men already think they are” She leant in a little closer, shoulder bumping Beron’s now.
“Then make little comments, they must be subtle but direct, everything must have purpose. Oh? The wall sounds wonderous, I would very much like to see it one day! But I fear for my life, do the wildlings not come south of the wall? Does it happen often? How many men do you have, protecting your borders?”
Lillian’s hand held his wrist more firmly now, thumb strumming at his palm. “He will tell you, of course he will, and now you have some very useful information. But you must seal it, so that he may never suspect anything ulterior”
Lilliana leant in, lips brushing Beron’s ear. Sena watched as his lips parted in a silent gasp, his body seemed to go ridged and then melt all at once, red coloured his neck and cheeks so brilliantly, it had nothing to do with the heat of the room.
She whispered something to him, too soft for Sena to hear before pulling back. They held each others eye for too long to be proper, faces too close to be anything but intimate. Sena did not miss the way Lilliana’s eyes dipped to his lips quickly, nor did she miss how Beron gently swiped the back of her friend's hand with his thumb.
She desperately hoped this was not how herself and Aerion behaved in polite company, though she could not be sure.
Lilliana pulled back, a slight blush at her cheeks.
“And that” she said, “Is how it is done. You ought to put it into practice, Sena, now that you are married. Use it to wrap you husband round your finger and you will have anything you wish for”
“I do not think seduction will work on my husband”
“No? Well you are married, you need not to worry about keeping it chaste. Whenever you want something you can just take him to your chambers, get on your knees and take him in your mou-”
“Lilliana!” Sena shrieked, this time she did clamp her hand over the girl's mouth.
Beron’s whole jaw was ridged and his head tipped back to examine the ceiling and Sena’s blush spread to her toes, the cousins were the picture of Northern propriety.
Lilliana was still laughing when Sena removed her hand.
“I shall miss you” she said, “My stubborn Stark, not even Highgarden could take your Northern propriety from you. Though I suppose you are a Targaryen now? A win and a loss in one, I have gained a princess but lost my instrument for Northern influence. Perhaps I shall have to find another”
She tipped her head back towards Beron, he held her eye and Sena thought maybe her cousin could survive Lilliana’s games.
“Well” Lilliana told them both, “This has been a delightful distraction, but I have to discern the state of the Reach’s trade agreements one pretty smile at a time.
She drained the rest of Beron’s wine glass before rising and marching off towards an unsuspecting Lord Redwyne, she looked back for just a moment, to throw a wink in the Northerner’s direction.
(Summer 212)
“Seven hells I fucking hate you” Sena hissed through clenched teeth.
“I know” Aerion told her, running his thumb over the back of her hand. Her knuckles were white, grabbing at him with a vice like grip.
She let out an exasperated gasp as the contraction waned, head dropping back onto the pillow and letting the temporary reprieve wash of her.
She did not know if it had been an hour or several. But the babe was close, Sena knew that much. She pushed upwards, using Aerion as leverage to maneuver herself onto her knees.
“Princess, you must lie down, you canno-”
“Have you ever birthed a babe?” Sena snapped, her glare was ice and the maester shrunk back away from the bed.
“No” he mumbled.
“Then you may shove your suggestions up your- FUCK!” Sena screamed, her fingers digging into Aerion’s shoulders.
“I hate you” She cried, burying her face in his shoulder and biting down, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you for putting this babe in me”
Aerion did not flinch, “I know” he told her, his grip on her elbows steadying, “But you must push”
And Sena did, the babe came on the sixth push, a screaming purple face girl. With purple eyes to match and wisps of white hair at her crown.
After she’d been washed and bundled and Sena had been tended to, the girl was tucked into her mothers arms. Sena’s heart bloomed, it had been the same with Edric, the uncanny feeling of such overwhelming attachment to someone she’d only just laid eyes on. But she was hers, all hers and Sena was, once again, besotted.
“It’s not fair” Sena remarked, as Aerion perched at her side, “I carry her for near ten months, and she comes out looking just like you”
Aerion pulled back Sena’s hair from where it was fanning over the baby, so that he could peer down at his daughter.
“Mmmh, she has your nose” He said, a smile on his lips.
“How can you say that?!” Sena huffed, “Her face is all squished”
Aerion laughed, slinging his arm round his wife and pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple, “You did so well. She is lovely”
They named the baby Dyanna. Maeker sobbed the first time he held his granddaughter, the cold demeanour that had taken hold of him since Baelor’s passing vanished as he gazed down at her.
“Her eyes are just like my Dyanna’s” he told them, looking at his granddaughter tenderly as she babbled in his arms.