Chapter Text
Family, Duty, and Honor: The Blackfyre Rebellion
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“She left,” Ros says quietly. “In the middle of the night.”
Alyssa nods slowly. “The King said so. He sent a guard--she is going to Dragonstone.”
“She left Brynden a letter,” Ros admits, staring out of the window of her room, bouncing Aerion on her lap while he sleeps. “He left it for me to read but--” Her voice halts.
Aly sighs, standing to come to stand next to her, fingers running through her long dark hair.
Ros tried not to fall in love with Brynden. But Shiera? Shiera she let herself fall for.
It was not the same kind of love she felt with Brynden. It was a kinship of being a woman and losing the woman you loved and never got enough time with. Different: but similar. A kinship she shared with them too, though Kyra left by choice and her mother was alive. Just a shell. Women that were taken by men. Kyra out of rage, her mother out of grief. Brenna was stolen by men who--who did awful things to her before that man killed her. And Shiera’s mother was stolen by the brutality of a man whose greed knew no fucking bounds.
A man whose greed tortured his children, his grandchildren, even a whole fucking Realm.
Brynden was a thing Ros enjoyed as a girl. For his resilience, his humor despite his grief, his sarcasm, and for the man he grew into. Fierce, sharp, unwavering and loyal. He took care of Owen. Made him smile again, gave him joy, even if it was in violence. And he had initiated the strangeness between the three of them. Whether or not it was to take both of them away Aly did not know. It…began right around the time her grandfather had suggested a match between Gawen and Ros, Aly realizes now.
She frowns at the back of Ros’s head and inhales deeply.
He was always more clever than her. Even to the point of viciousness, sometimes.
But he and Shiera shared something he and Ros and Ros and Shiera never could.
The same man that ruined their mother’s lives, reputations, and wills was not just their father: he was also the man who gave them their very identities. And when you were entirely, completely, and forever defined by your blood, your status, and by the man who ruined you before you had even been born: how could you not turn to one another? And with Valyrian blood?
“Will you read it to me?” Ros asks softly.
“I will,” Aly says slowly. “If you promise not to let it break you.”
Ros scoffs. “As if anything could break me.”
Her words are hard: but her voice is not.
Aerion whimpers and turns into her arms, wiggling himself into her with a heavy sigh before he settles.
“Little tit-terror,” she murmurs softly. “You might look and act like your father but at least you’re sweet like your mother too.”
Ros takes the letter, small, folded up and hands it to her. And for a moment--she closes her eyes.
“If it was just for him, Ros, it would be written in High Valyrian.”
Ros makes a little noise and she nods.
“I know.” She whispers.
Sighing, Alyssa unfolds it, eyes tracing over the words before her mouth does. And she sighs quietly.
“There are very many things that could be said between the three of us. Lies, truths, and all the things that lie between. I find that it will just complicate things. So here are the words I will say, or write, technically.
I will never be what either of you need, only what you want. I am mine and mine alone. I find more peace in that than I have ever found in anything. And it is a peace I will not allow taken from me. But you can both stop lying to yourselves now. It is not just me that has benefitted from this arrangement my brother doctored up so he did not have to watch you be wed.
Brother you and I understand what it is to be a Targaryen, just like our Rose and you understand what it is to be a Blackwood. I will tell you from my own experience brother, being blood of the Dragon is far less exciting than being what else we are.
You do not have to give it up to have the other, either.
To my Rose: you are the closest I have come to complacency and to quieting my mind. But I cannot give you what you need. Nor can I ask you to walk away from your family. Little Owen would not survive without you. Nor Brynden.
I’ll see you two again one day. But not too soon.
Tell Aly and her boys goodbye.
Shiera”
Ros is quiet, but she nods and looks out the window with a quiet sigh. She does not cry, nor does she really react. Aly sits on the bench beside her and turns, watching her with a frown before she leans forward and begins petting her hairline.
“Are you staying in King’s Landing for long?” Ros asks, voice soft.
Aly hums. “At least six months,” she admits. “Maekar is taking Master of Coin until they find a replacement. There is…much to be fixed.”
“Brynden has been awarded Master of Secrets,” Ros says slowly. “And offered to marry me.”
Alyssa inhales slowly, despite her heart racing and she clears her throat. “And how do we feel about that?” Ros’ mouth quirks.
“My father wants me as the future Lady of Wayfarer’s Rest,” she drawls out. “I told him to go fuck himself.” A laugh is ripped from her throat and Aly turns to look at her, mouth quirking into a smirk. “What do I do, Aly?” Alyssa sighs and tilts her head with a frown.
“What do you truly want Roslin?”
Her nose wrinkles. “That’s rude,” she mutters. “You don’t see me calling you Alyssa.”
“You just did.” She says.
Ros rolls her eyes.
“Have you slept with him, since-”
Ros frowns and looks at her, eyes flat.
“Since…since I came back…” she inhales deeply and lets her eyes close.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to Ros.” She says quietly. Her Lady’s mouth quirks.
“It has only been with him since I came back. Shiera…”Aly’s brows raise sharply and she sits forward some, gaping at Ros’s face.
“What?”
Ros blinks her eyes open and she frowns. “Don’t judge me!” She snaps, but her cheeks turn pink and her ears--
“It isn’t judgement!” She defends. “But shock, you three made it seem-”
“She watched,” Ros mutters. “Touched me some, but she mostly--”
Ros shakes her head and looks away.
“He was angry,” Ros says quietly. “He is angry about Rhaelor. Even though--he told me too. Told me to have him specifica-”
A migraine begins to hammer at her temples, but she nods, trying so hard to be understanding about something she could not comprehend. The three of them together was one thing, but the will they won’t they while they shared everything? And then him picking out her next lover?
So strange.
“He just held me last night though,” Ros says quietly. “He--he hasn’t been sleeping.”
“I know,” she whispers.
None of them liked sleeping. None of the boys.
“He cried,” Ros whispers. “Cried when he killed Daemon’s boys. But the men--they kept rallying and he--he has the best aim.” Aly soothes her again, hands gentle on her. “I think…he went after Aegor to try and die,” she admits softly. “He--he went Mad, Aly. It was…it was so--”
“I know,” she says, not because she knows he did it, but because she knows why.
Brynden was not the unfeeling cold bastard that he let onto be. He had feelings, he even cared for Daemon. He just loved Daeron more. The father he never had. And he was a Blackwood: he took oaths to his brother. To the man who provided for him and his sisters and mother until she died.
“I-” Ros begins before she shudders out a breath and smiles. “I wouldn’t mind one of these, one day,” she murmurs, looking down at Aerion. “Not as many as your husband will put in you-”
She shoves her, just lightly.
And Ros lets out a long drag of air.
“Tonight,” Ros says slow. “He and I wed in the Godswood. I-I want you and Maekar there.” Aly blinks at her with a blank face and her best friend smiles. “He…told me he would be there. To wear a dress if I wanted. Said I didn’t have to answer him now and if I didn’t come he wouldn’t hold it against me.”
There are many thoughts Aly should have.
She finds though: that she has none.
“You aren’t going to tell your father?” She asks slowly.
Ros rolls her eyes. “If he thought I was marrying Denys Vance,” she says shortly. “He is a fucking idiot.”
Hours later, after lunch, while Ros dresses in her and Maekar’s rooms and they sit in their new sitting area in their extended apartments, Jena nods slowly, bouncing Daeron on her lap as Valarr and Matarys play with their toys by the balcony.
But Baelor and Maekar squint at her.
“She’s marrying Brynden?”
“Finally,” Fiona scoffs from across the table, pouring herself a cup of wine as Aerion snoozes on her shoulder.
“How,” Jena asks, squinting, “Do you do that?”
“He smells fear, like his father does.” Fiona says off-handedly. “Those two have been circling each other for forever. For so long I thought I misjudged them. Until she admitted they were bedding one another.”
Jena startles out a laugh at her aunt, and Maekar scoffs, turning back to look at him with a frown.
The door startles open and Jon and Ed come in, brows raised as they halt, bow at the Princes in a rush and then turn to her.
“She’s marrying Brynden?” They say at the same time. Both her brother and cousin gape at her in genuine surprise, Jon’s hand scratching his head and Ed’s hands on his hips.
“Yes,” Aly says, clearing her throat. “In an hour--her father has been led out into the city by Gawen so-”
Then the door opens again, and it is Rhaelor.
“Is it really true-”
All of them stop and turn to him, and his face falls as he groans.
“Fuck, it is.”
“You were half-wrapped around Shiera yesterday,” Maekar snaps.
“I was hoping to join,” he mutters under his breath. Baelor raises a single, judgemental eye brow at him. One that mirrors her husband’s, though he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Well,” Aly says, clapping her hands together. “Keep your mouths shut, and if you’d like to attend: Owen will be walking her down in an hour. You,” she drags out, turning to Rhaelor. “Should probably find somewhere else to be. Far, far away from Brynden. And remain there for--”
“Ever,” Maekar says flatly.
“At least a year,” Baelor says at the same time.
“Dragons are very jealous,” Jena says with a grin. “Baelor used to-” He coughs, loudly, and turns to his wife, eyes looking betrayed. “What?” She says with a frown. “The Riverlanders are more pleasant than the Crownlanders.”
Then Aly looks at her husband and his brother.
“Does the King know?”
Both brothers look at each other and stand slowly. “We--will be back,” Baelor strangles out.
Ros walks out of her room with a frown and looks at Rhaelor with a raised brow. “You should go, before Brynden finds out you are here.” Dressed in an all black gown, except for the little red Godstree leaves embroidered on the collar, sleeves, and trim, she sighs. “I don’t think I’ve worn a dress since--” her nose wrinkles as Maekar gapes at the sight of her in a dress before Baelor pushes him out to find their father. “Since the Blackwoods pledged? A year and a half ago?” She shakes out her legs and sighs. “I missed not having to wear trousers but seven hells do corsets poke.”
“Can I do your hair?” Jena asks, grinning, standing to pass Daeron to Ed.
“Sure,” she says with a shrug, then turning to Ed, Jon, and Rhaelor who are stuck staring at her. “What?”
“I thought you-”
She raises a single fine black brow at him and his shoulders deflate fully. “I’m going to have to go back to Driftmark, aren’t I?”
“If you want to keep your cock, yes.”
“I do not think I’ve ever been to a Northern wedding,” Jena whispers to Aly, arm-in-arm. The Godstree in the little garden in the Red Keep is no Raventree, but it was pleasant. A little piece of home for them both.
“They are simple, not so many oaths, promises, and blessings-” she explains, Owen handing Ros off to Brynden. His face is serene, port wine stained face pinned to Ros’ pretty face. Aly had never found the man ugly. But he was neither particularly handsome. But she remembers him arriving in Raventree and how Ros had narrowed her eyes in interest at the solemn boy she had slowly teased out of his shell. Not in cruelty: but in challenge. They began the game of cat and mouse. Or, of cat and cat. She could not describe either of them as mice with their ferocity.
“What was wrong with our wedding?” Maekar bitches--quietly, of course. She looked back over her shoulder and found her husband squinting at her. His eyes are almost mischievous, and his mouth is set in a straight line rather than a frown.
She scoffs over her shoulder. “I did not say that there was anything wrong with it-”
He leans forward, eyes dark and heady and moves to say something.
“Will you leave her alone?” The Queen hip-checks her youngest son. “You’re on her all night and even now-”
Aly’s gaze snaps forward and Jena smothers a near hysterical laugh as the King sighs, adjusting Aerion and Daeron in his arms. Inhaling deeply, Aly ignores the thundering of her heart.
“It means she likes you,” Jena promises. Aly lets out a quiet, strangled noise and Maekar grumbles behind her.
Neither Ros nor Brynden smile at one another--as her grandfather Jasper officiates. But he is still and steady before her and her eyes are soft. Her eyes dart to Aly once and she inclines her head, mouth twitching into a half smile.
Owen though, grins from behind his sister, grinning like a maniac again.
Jon and Ed kept looking at each other, then darting their eyes to the opening into the castle as if they expected her father to come running. As if Gawen wasn’t a master at keeping men distracted.
Jena hums when they kiss. “It really is so short. Baelor and I were at the bloody altar for an hour-”
Aly looks down at her with a quiet gasp. “Ours was not so long-”
Her husband snorts and she looks back at him.
“Tommen was probably afraid I’d run,” Maekar grunts. “He wanted Princes for grandsons-” His mother elbows his ribs and her husband grunts in surprise. “Ow,” he hisses. “Really?”
“Can you behave?”
“This,” Baelor whispers as they clap as the couple begins to walk together towards the castle. “Is more so my brother, sister. He is quite bratty and petulant.” She smothers a laugh, swallowing it as her husband's head snaps to his eldest brother. He scowls, but his mouth is set into a petulant pout.
“Oh, fuck you-” he growls out at him.
“Maekar, not in front of the boys-” his father says with a heavy sigh.
“Well, at least they get to have dinner,” Aly says to Maekar. “We got shoved into a room after we kissed.” All of his families gaze snaps to her as they stare at her in disbelief. When Maekar grunts and inclines his head in agreement their jaws drop.
“There was fruit and meat, not that you’d eat.” Jena gapes at her and the Queen lets out a strangled noise.
“Really?” Baelor says to Maekar.
Maekar snorts, rubbing his hand through his beard. “I drank four fucking cups of wine to take the edge off-”
“Maekar,” his mother hisses and his father groans.
“He tried to offer me wine, but I would not drink it.” She offers.
“You shook like a leaf,” he mutters, pinching her hip.
“You didn’t stop scowling until you passed out right after. But you didn’t seem drunk until after you woke up-”
He pinches her harder, cheeks turning pink. “Do not tell them that!”
“You started it,” she bites back. Baelor struggles out a breath trying to keep his laughter in.
Jena is not so kind. “Baelor passed out too-”
“Hey!” He hisses, making Valarr jump in front of him.
“He’d been drinking since dawn,” Maekar says with a scoff.
“They are too much like you,” the Queen complains to her husband, and Aly and Jena stare at one another, struggling back giggles while the Princes grimace.
“Does duty require silence?” Maekar mocks at her. She grins.
“You deserved it,” she says with a grin.
“You asked me if I forgot your name woman,” he says, and Jena does not bother to smother her laugh once the couple is gone.
“You kept calling me woman.”
“Come, we need to get to dinner, stop flirting with your wife, she is already married to you-” the Queen says with a laugh.
“We can take our time,” Maekar says with a scoff. “They aren’t coming to dinner.”
The King and Queen frown. “What do you mean?” The King asks.
“He is right,” she says, ears turning red.
“They’re finding bed to fu-”
She and the Queen slap him.
“Women!”
“Consummate,” Baelor offers.
“Sh!” Jena hisses. “This is entertainment!”
The days had been long in the Stoney Sept, without her husband.
And yet now, a year and a half since the Ravens began, since she’d been sequestered at Riverrun just after having been given permission to go to Raventree again: her entire life is…different.
Jena sits with her quietly as they watch the twins wiggle around the floor, Aerion trying desperately to crawl as Valarr attended to Matarys, showing him how to stack blocks properly in order. It is a quiet day in court, and Quentyn Blackwood is…begrudging about his last daughter marrying a Bastard. But that bastard is the son of a King and the Master of Whispers.
Strangely enough, very little changes between Brynden and Ros. Their day-to-day lives stay the same. The only difference was she returned to his quarters every night.
But during the day: Jena and Aly have settled in a little routine for two hours every morning. Today though, Jena is unusually quiet. But considering the Trials were due to start next week, she could not blame her.
“Baelor says…you know of her.” She begins quietly.
Inhaling deeply, Aly lets her fingers tap over her dress and she nods.
“Dyanna Dayne.”
Jena’s mouth quirks. “She…will not be what you expect.”
Aly frowns, turning to face her good sister. Auburn haired too, though her hair was more brown. Blue eyes too.
For a moment, she wants to laugh.
They truly are brothers. Except Jena was petite and small while Aly was not. Her face slim and slender, while Aly’s was not. And her hair fell into loose curls while Aly’s curled.
“In what way?” She asks.
“She did not mean to hurt him,” Jena says gently. Aly’s brow raised and Jena nods, eyes falling away though she still faces her. “She did not want to be Queen. Did not want Sunspear. She wanted Starfall and…was denied it. All of the rest--was to get back at her father.”
A small laugh falls from her mouth and she turns to look at the boys.
All of the rest.
Maekar is all of the rest.
Just like I was to Kyra.
Aly inhales slowly and nods. “I have a sister like that,” she says quietly. “Acts for herself. Does not face the consequences of the wreckage she causes.”
“We all face the consequences one day,” Jena says.
“Some more than others. But the ones who bear the most are the ones who are harmed by the carelessness of others.” She flattens out her skirt and interlocks her fingers.
“I do not mean to offend you,” Jena says gently.
“It is not that I am offended,” Aly says quietly. “Not for me, but for him. They think he is an unfeeling wall. He is not. He is…so full of feeling he knows not what to do with it and buries it.”
Jena lets out a soft noise and Aly meets her eyes with a single one of hers, looking at her sideways.
“You don’t just love him,” she muses. “You understand him.”
“Yes,” Aly whispers. “We are the same, he and I.”
“And how is that?” She asks. The girl is not unkind, and it is the only thing that leaves Aly feeling…safe. Safe enough to admit.
“Neither of us know who we are without our family. It is our greatest strength, and our greatest weakness.” Her voice falls and she takes in a long, steady breath. “It makes us become whatever we need to become to serve. And yet…so often do we feel forgotten by the people we want to love us the most.”
Jena shifts closer, her arm slipping beneath Aly’s and she laid her head on her shoulder.
“The world is full of those who take and those who give,” Jena whispers. “Those who take rarely realize how much they take until it is too late.” A small noise curls at the back of her throat and she nods.
“He thought…he didn’t love him.”
“Baelor?” Jena gasps. “Maekar is his favorite-”
“His father,” she says, and the girl deflates, her eyes falling closed. “Just as I am not so sure my mother loves me.”
“She’d be stupid not too.” Jena says shortly. “Is she…that bad?”
Aly hums and looks out at the sky from the window.
“She is a shell. I am not sure much of her is left.”
“I am sorry,” Jena whispers.
“Maekar…made me realize her better. As a wife. But…as a mother, as a daughter? I cannot forgive her for abandoning us and yet lying there for as long as she did.” Her voice catches in her throat and Jena soothes her with her small, soft hands.
“She didn’t even really say goodbye to me,” she admits. “She just…shuffled my brothers forward so they could hug me, kissed my cheek, and stood there. She’s written me no letters. The only ones I got were from my bothers, Kyle and Matthis.”
“He loves you though,” Jena says. “I cannot attest for your mother: but he loves you. You two…are like you have been together for a decade, rather than a year.”
“War…I think it does that. In ways that you never expect.” Jena inhales deeply and nods.
“I…I do not want you to be surprised when she comes here. She will…likely go to him.”
Aly anticipated it. What woman would not: when facing retribution and treason? There was a part of her that did not even blame her. And she had a daughter a month before Aly had the boys.
“You liked her,” Aly says quietly.
“She came to me,” Jena admits. “Woman to woman, before our wedding. Admitted: she had said cruel things and that she was sorry because I did not deserve it.” Aly’s brows furrow.
“How could anyone say anything cruel about you?” She mutters.
“I am a Stormlander, she is Dornish,” Jena says with a shrug. “It sort of comes with the territory unfortunately.”
Aly nods slowly. “I trust him, implicitly. But-”
“I know,” Jena says with a smile. “If she stays more than a day: she’ll learn of how the Anvil takes his Red Aly though.”
She groans, head falling back and her body goes limp dramatically on the couch. And Jena, her laugh is high, loud, but true.
“When the honeymoon is over--I so want to sit down and look over that book.”