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Over a year had passed since the funeral on Driftmark when Rhaenyra finally decided to make amends.
The night before, broaching the topic at all spurred her husband from beside her and limping away to fetch a rag. "You need to close off whatever love you had for Alicent and her family. It will do you little good to make amends now," said Daemon from across the room.
Rhaenyra laid still, the sweat on her naked body sliding down under her ass onto the sheets. She pivoted her head away from him, and idly twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. He was right, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Mm," was all she could hum in response.
She made no motion at all when he stumbled back to his quarters, only contemplated further on the idea that had been gathering in her head soon after their wedding on Dragonstone.
Alicent wouldn't hear anything Rhaenyra said ever again. The damage to her son's eye was a beacon she heralded, using it to condemn heirs of the Dragon that she had always disdained. But Aemond and her sons had been friends. There was love there once, the love she had for Alicent as children was a misery as much as it was a comfort.
The sweat on her body cooled and left her skin clammy. Rhaenyra sat up to pull her nightgown over her and tucked herself under the sheets.
She would talk to him herself.
That morning, Daemon had gone out. He didn't stay with her in the morning to break their fast. Her handmaidens attended Joffery, letting him coo and giggle while they washed him. Amidst her desk of papers, forms, account balances for expenses, and lists of items she needed ordered, she pulled out a clean, blank slip.
Addressing Aemond in Valyrian was innocent enough, but by doing so it alienated Alicent from an initial impression. She could get it transcribed, Aemond could even tell her what the letter said himself.
My darling brother. No, my sweet little brother. No. She hesitated. If she addressed him in a diminutive manner he might find it condescending.
Rhaenyra chewed her lip, recalling how that child had looked at her after Alicent attacked with the knife. His one eye engulfed her, assessed her carefully, then retreated to his mother's weeping side. He shared his mother's hatred of her children, he might hate Rhaenyra now as well.
She put that concern aside. Her memory of him before the fight at King's landing was just of one image; A sullen child, being escorted back to the Red Keep from the dragonpit despite none of the dragons in there were his own.
"Do you know of Princess Rhaena's missing clutch?" Jacaerys had once asked of her.
She didn't understand what he had meant at first. "Her wicked sister-in-law had stolen a clutch of Dreamfyre's eggs, and sold them to pirates," he was resting his chin atop one of his tiny hands, using the entirety of his palm to flip through a large index of different maps of the known world that a full-grown person would only need to pinch the pages of. "Aemond said if he had a dragon, he would fly across the Narrow Sea, and bring them back to our House."
Jace did not look up at her. He seemed to be talking to himself, wiggling around his chair while palming through the massive pages. "When Vermax is large enough to fit two, I could take him with me. Oh, and Aegon, and Luke could join us. We could find the clutch, and I'd give all of them to Aemond though. One of them could hatch, or better yet all three. Then we could all fly together."
"I'm sure he would love that," she said. Rhaenyra had her swollen ankles propped up on the couch, but all the pillows in the Red Keep could do little to help the discomfort of the heavy child inside her that refused to come out.
At the time, the thought stayed with her. If he had told her son of his desire for a new egg perhaps he had told his mother.
When she later had offered for Aemond a choosing of Syrax's clutch as well as a betrothal for Helaena to Jacaerys, she had hoped that would spark something. That Alicent would see Rhaenyra truly did love their family. What mother of House Targaryen wouldn't want her son's dearest wish for a dragon's egg fulfilled?
Alicent instead grew colder towards her suggestion. The added gesture had been for Aemond's benefit, but it left Rhaenyra feeling scolded.
My dear brother, she wrote. She felt something in her stomach twist with that. I hear you reached your fourteenth name day around the waning period of the last moon phase. She didn't hear actually, she just remembered it was around this time of year. The moon phase it fell on was a total guess. I regret how late this letter finds you, but I hope it was a delightful occasion.
Shit. What else. She stared at the ink drying. Her son babbling about in the background. How's Aegon? Has he fallen out of a window in the throes of his self inflicted pleasure yet? Lucerys's broken nose has healed and set perfectly well, thank you. Does your mother still hate me?
I pray our shared family and yourself are doing well. My sons often speak of you quite fondly. That will have to do.
When I reached my fourteenth name day, my- she stopped, cold with realization that it should be our father, not my father. Too late now. She kept writing, as though it was what she had always intended. -my late mother had told me I was now a woman. I didn't understand what that meant at first. I felt exactly the same as I had the day before. Now I understand it to mean the seed of the woman I was to become had been planted, and in the following years she would watch it take root.
Good save. But it wasn't the truth, the day she turned fourteen her father had some sort of painful wound that morning that had the septons rushing to his quarters. He appeared better during the feasts arranged for Rhaenyra later that day, like his sudden affliction never happened. Rhaenyra acted likewise. Her mother Aemma had told her she was now a woman, but it was when she turned twelve two years before. She didn't live long enough to watch Rhaenyra season at all.
I'm certain with each year of your name day passing you will season into a fine man, a noble dragon rider, and a source of pride for our great House.
Your dear eldest sister, Rhaenyra. She signed it neatly.
There was nothing in there that Alicent could use to batter her, to claim her letter was a show of guilt or a neck prepared for the axe. She would be suspicious that it wasn't written in the common tongue, but she was suspicious of everything. Rhaenyra put it out of her mind, whatever may come she at least had shown compassion.
For the life of her, she could not remember when Helaena's name day was. She remembered Aegon's name day, but she suspiciously wondered if a belated letter in Valyrian would be beyond his reading comprehension.
If Alicent knew Rhaenyra had written Aemond, how she would react? Alicent was penitent to Viserys after her assault, maybe she would accept it as the act of benevolence it was.
Ultimately Rhaenyra prepared herself to never hear back at all. Alicent had never wanted to reach out to her before, her son would be no different.
When Aemond did write her back, it was on her desk along with the rest of her postage. She had finished reading a reply from a merchant regarding the availability of ingredients from Pentos that Daemon mentioned desiring more of ...Regarding your request to have your kitchens sent these ingredients before His Majesty King Viserys I's court at King's Landing has their customary sampling, I'm afraid we can not guarantee anything at this time...
"Seven Hells, Alicent," said Rhaenyra. Her servant nearby must have noticed the curse towards the Queen. She heard the faint sound of sweeping cease, followed by soft footsteps echoing out in the hall.
She cared little. Alicent had only started insisting on customary sampling of high quality imports before the rest of the seven kingdoms the minute Rhaenyra needed the same quality of goods she had grown up accustomed to delivered straight to Dragonstone.
She recognized the next letter as a reply from Aemond instantly.
He had used a seal that she recognized from the Crown's own collection. It must have been so it would be granted an utmost priority, but it was one that her father never used when he wrote to her. She wondered if Aemond even knew that this one was most often used on official invitations, not personal messages. The letter itself was on a thick parchment dyed a pale-blue ombre, and was much larger then what was normally accustomed for letters of exchange. His penmanship was grand and neat.
Sister,
Aemond had opted out of any formal greeting in Valyrian- neither one befitting of her station or what she had signed her letter to him with.
My fourteenth name day came and went three moon phases ago. The day of, Mother told me even if I felt I no longer needed guidance from her, she would never leave my side.
I have none save one or two of the Maesters whom I can indulge Valyrian with. Mother refuses to learn, and Father is too preoccupied to speak with me often. Aegon only speaks in obscenities. Helaena speaks in ambiguity. I wonder how exactly it is that I can season into a source of pride for our House if I am alone? Perhaps I will understand it once I am older, like you.
My great she-dragon has taken to roosting on an islet in the Blackwater. It's three miles from the docks closest to the eastern entrance leading into the Red Keep. Mother detests when I go out there alone, but I try to check in on her every so often.
Aemond was all he signed off with. Rhaenyra scanned through the letter again. She felt as though there was a knot in her chest, and it had tightened so much that every nerve in her body felt cold. His writing was incredulous for a child, and in Valyrian no less.
Aemond had written nothing about her sons or his injury. He claimed he was alone: there was no indication Alicent even knew he received or wrote a letter back. Whatever she thought he might be feeling months after their altercation, she was now even more uncertain.
Surely he was annoyed she got the month wrong for his name day as well. An islet in the Blackwater? It would have to be quite large to host a dreadnought such as Vhagor.
Rhaenyra folded the letter inside a nook of her desk, then quickly grabbed it back out to glance at the seal he had used.
---
Rhaenyra saw Vhagor's nest right away when they first descended. Maintaining a few thousand feet above the rocky islet, Syrax screeched and refused her commands to clear approach. Her own dragon, nervous to get near Vhagor, instead opted to land a mile away, leaving Rhaenyra to walk unsteadily across the pebbled shore.
All that she inhaled at the beginning of her graceless hike, the skirts of her dress bundled up in her hands, was the brine of her sweat and the sea. The closer she approached, the more foul and pungent the odor was from where Vhagor had laid claim. Eventually she came across the remains of...well, it was difficult to make out what beasts they were once. What bones remained stood melted in the sands like lumber in mortar.
Rhaenyra slowed her pace, the soft tissue of her nose cringed against the assault on her senses. She stood about twenty yards away, but even the stench inside the dragonpit wasn't as foul as this. Vhagor herself, the majestic monster as old as the conquest, was sleeping. As still as a mountain, she took no notice of Rhaenyra, and thankfully had not been awake to smell Syrax close by her territory.
She wasn't...afraid of Vhagor; a dragon was still a dragon, even if it was the largest in the known world. But she had nothing to expect for the old creature's temperaments, and she had never ridden alongside it. Rhaenyra stared in awe. She wondered how large Vhagor had been when Visenya last saw her. Did Vhagor still remember Visenya? Rhaenyra fiddled with her arms then slid them down to wrap around her waist. She wondered how Syrax would take to her own scions, after she was gone.
Vhagor suddenly rising from her slumber in a languid motion startled Rhaenyra out of her thoughts. The dragon let out a sharp whine, unfurled her neck from the bed she had dug out for herself in the dune and steered her corpulent head towards Rhaenyra. Her eyes were too wide and far apart, the ridge of her muzzle too expansive to perceive a meager thing like Rhaenyra, yet to Rhaenyra's astonishment Vhagor aimed her gaze in her direction.
"I saw your dragon fly by," said Aemond from behind her, "t'looked such a tiny thing from the Keep."
Rhaenyra was caught off guard by Vhagor, but held her gaze at the child in front of her when she turned around. His voice had dropped, but he was mostly how she remembered him. A lanky adolescent who was now taller then her own height, and he had fastened an eyepatch over his injury. A clean red line like a thread on a loom jutted out on his skin underneath it.
She spied the rowboat he used to paddle across the bay dragged up past the shore line. He had come alone.
She paused only briefly to take in his appearance. "Brother," she said in Valyrian before retreating to the common tongue. "How wonderful to see you," she pulled her face into a smile. She hoped it looked warm.
His cheeks were ruddy and his pinched frown exaggerated their fullness. "Sister," was all he said in Valyrian. His enunciation was banal. He wasn't lying about having little practice.
Rhaenyra clasped and unclasped her hands, making a show of taking in the islet Vhagor claimed. "I cannot see why your mother would be worried for your safety out here, I would fret more for poachers on route t'wards the King's forest," she said as cheerfully as she could, but hearing it made her wince. She pulled back and tried to find a more natural voice, "thank you for the...invitation."
Aemond looked down and let out a quiet exhale. He said nothing. Behind them, Vhagor let out a loud snort.
He was waiting for her to spit out the truth of why she had written him in the first place, Rhaenyra realized. She let his silence sit between them, then readied herself. "I regret...how events with our family have played out," said Rhaenyra, watching her hands as they clenched and unclenched.
Aemond's one blue eye shot upwards. His mouth opened to draw in a breath, and just as quickly he let it fall back out as a scoff.
Rhaenyra found her words quicker now. "Your mother's personal judgements break my heart. I harbor no ill will toward her, and yet she...conspires against me at every turn. She will never accept any outreach I do to mend our bonds but I-" she looked at the sand below her feet, at the waves pooling on the shore, "I do not wish...I never have wished for you or our family to have any ill will towards me," she looked at him, his face suddenly more delicate to her now, "...or my children."
But his delicate face did not move at all. His head stayed tilted, and his one eye stared at her unblinking.
Rhaenyra reached into the side pocket of her thick riding coat and finally retrieved what she had wanted to do all along. "I had hoped to give you a dragon's egg, but Syrax hasn't produced a clutch as of late," she held out a coffer that fit in her open palm. She couldn't recall what it had fitted before, but it fit its new content perfectly.
"For you," she offered, "as a token of my good will."
Aemond didn't expect that, and for a moment he let his surprise show. He took a step to her and held out his hand.
Rhaenyra planted it softly and watched as he opened it. He gapped. Then he let it tumble out into his careful hands. The sheer size of it, "as large as walnuts," as her late husband described it, must have been grander then any other sapphire he'd seen before, even as a Prince of the Realm.
She still recalled Jace's excitement about the tale Aemond told him of. "A squire of my late husband had been involved in one of the many skirmishes in the Stepstones last year. He had slain a Tyorshi pirate who had on his persons a sack full of them, all as large as that one there. He gave one to Ser Laenor and I as gratitude to his patrons," boasted Rhaenyra.
"Oh," said Aemond, as soft as she had ever heard him say. He had not taken his eye off the jewel. He arranged it between his fingers, examining his prize throughly. She wondered if Aemond had heard of Ser Qarl in a manner that wasn't mocking.
Then after a moment, his face contorted to a frown. He gripped the sapphire, his own hands now large enough to cover it entirely. "Why are you giving me this?" he asked. His hair was too light to fully show his brow. A shadow formed where it crinkled into an accusation.
Rhaenyra inhaled sharply before speaking as a show of surprise he would ask. "Our house is too great to let a...a brawl between boys-"
"Did your boys tell you to give this to me then?" He put emphasis on the word boys. "I cannot be swayed with jewels, I'm no Ser Laenor."
His ancient beast growled behind her.
Rhaenyra shielded her outrage at his slight. She titled her chin upwards so that she could stare down the boy in front of her. Aemond outstretched his hand with her gift in it.
She said nothing. Her lips pursed tightly, she observed his outstretched hand. Then, slowly, she began to walk toward him. Aemond faltered his glare. He didn't try to step back as she approached, and when she stopped right in front of him only then did he let his arm bend.
Rhaenyra watched his mouth open, thinking he might say something. He didn't. She placed her hands around his fist still holding the sapphire. When she touched him he flinched, and she pretended she hadn't noticed.
"Brother, I cannot let you give this back to me," she said softly in Valyrian,
His one eye widened, as though he could absorb her voice through it. She shook her head, still looking through him as she considered her next words. "What your mother wants of me, what you in turn might want from my sons one day, I cannot give."
She drew a deep breath and continued in Valyrian. "However one day, Aemond, I will be your Queen, and I will grant you anything else you may desire."
To save my children, is what she craved to append in that. It wasn't begging. She couldn't beg. Rhaenyra breathed out and looked down at their conjoined hands. She had nothing else she could think of to say. She thought of Alicent and Viserys's blood pumping through Aemond's wrists, and smothered her exasperation.
Finally, Rhaenyra unhooked herself. She didn't draw back, only hovered in the space she had entered with her hands tightly folded and stared at him. Aemond withdrew the sapphire closer to him. His eye fluttered. He broke his stare, and she was certain she could see his mind reeling. Her pleading might have worked.
"Anything else," he repeated back the Valyrian words, then he said the translation of it in the common tongue, "...anything?"
Aemond was fidgeting with the sapphire in his palm. She saw the faintest impression of a nod from him, and it elated her. Her eyes lit up.
"Anything at all," Rhaenyra enthusiastically replied in the common tongue back to him. "I believe you would be a fearsome warrior for our seven kingdoms upon your magnificent dragon." She thought of her own father's reluctance to send aid to Daemon, how quickly her suggestion at Aemond's age was dismissed. "The war with Dorne has stalled for now, but if you were to earn glory in battle, I would make sure you'd be rewarded handsomely."
His scowl softened. She had a hunch that glory in war would grab his attention. Her smile widened, she hoped he thought it was still warm and welcoming. "You would be the first champion I would send in our House's name. Any armies or gold needed to fund them, I would grant so without hesitation." assured Rhaenyra.
"Is it true you and Daemon wed under the custom of Old Valyria?" asked Aemond.
The memory she recalled of when Viserys delayed reinforcements to the Stepstones slipped from her. Rhaenyra's mind went blank.
"Yes," she said, after a moment, "I recall hearing from Father that your mother wed Aegon to Helaena recently. You, of course, are more then welcome to marry your future bride on Dragonstone," she had been holding her breath, and didn't even realize it- quickly she composed herself, "we would be honored to host your wedding party, one day."
Daemon most certainly would not be, but she'd grant him leave.
"Maegor the Cruel wed his niece Rhaena under the customs of Old Valyria as well," said Aemond.
She poised herself as still as the bones in the sand all around them.
Aemond said it with suspicion. His expression never changed. "My mother had Aegon wed Helaena under the eyes of The Seven, to prove to the realm that our duty to their gods was truer then our duty to our customs," he fussed with the sapphire enclosed in his hand, "just as King Jaehaerys did. Our blood magic from our Valyrian ancestors protects us from dispositions other Houses do not, 'tis why The Seven only bless our House for kin to marry."
Aemond engulfed her with his one eye just like he had before, staring down at her instead of staring up this time. "I've read my histories. You should marry under the Seven as well."
He was much too young, too unexposed to what Valyrian customs actually were to understand the enormity behind what he just said.
Rhaenyra felt every foul odor from the burnt remains, every salty whip from the wind off the bay all at once. It was making her light headed. She had to leave. She turned away to see where she trailed from Syrax.
"My grandfather believes your claim to the throne should go to Aegon," breathed Aemond.
Rhaenyra halted. Aemond beheld her before continuing. "I've heard him when met with lords outside of Father's Small Counsel. He doesn't even try to hide it from us. Yet, my mother is blind to it anyway," he hesitated, "it is not she who conspires."
His confession about Otto suddenly reanimated her vigor. She no longer felt meek, dizzy on the isle of a powerful dragon and her master.
That...snake. She knew it. She had known it all along. It shouldn't shock her to hear it. Was he trying to recruit others to his own beliefs? Has his hatred of Daemon spread even to her?
"It's not as though he ever sworn me to secrecy. He tasks me, and I am dutiful to my grandsire irregardless." She heard his voice lower, "you can't tell a soul what I told you. And none shall ever question me if I've spoken."
Otto has hated Daemon since she was a child. Maybe he was only speaking out concerning old grievances with him. Wait- what did Aemond say? Did he threaten her? Her mind raced back to Otto. He couldn't actually hope to steal it from her while her own Father was alive. She knew her inheritance divided the realm, she had known.
She cleared her throat, and turned back to face him. "When I ascend the throne, Aemond, I will deal with my enemies then," said Rhaenyra firmly. Otto wouldn't dare risk his position as Hand of the King if he truly vocalized his desire to see her robbed.
She suddenly remembered why she lingered here at all. "Keep the sapphire, child. As proof that I...I only want our family to stand together." Otto didn't hate her. He watched her grow up alongside Alicent. How could he want to replace her?
She walked past him to start her hike back to Syrax. "Goodbye, brother," she hummed quietly in Valyrian.
"Goodbye, sister," he replied in Valyrian.
"Sister," she said sharply, correcting his Valyrian pronunciation. He said nothing else that she heard.
---
The day after Aemond's invitation to the islet, she told Daemon that she had been in contact with a ladies maid at the Keep. Rhaenyra had treated her with such kindness, that when she overheard Otto remarking such treasonous accusations she sent word to her in haste.
Daemon had a skeptical view that he dissected her with at once. "You should have had her flogged for prattling such gossip," he poised in front of her, his upper body shifted so even though he was seated corner from her to break his fast he could assess her head on.
She locked eyes, assessing him right back.
Daemon eventually broke first, turning back to his tender cut of sowbelly. "Otto wouldn't risk announcing any ambition for his grandson to steal your claim in front of chambermaids if he didn't already have like-minded lords on the Small Counsel," his silverware clattered on his now empty plate, "and unless he starts amassing an army in view of said chambermaids, there's little we can do about it."
"Are you not alarmed by this? He believes I ought to be replaced," said Rhaenyra. Her voice rose with the last sentence, and she wondered briefly if her sons were nearby.
"He's believed this for a long time, Rhaenyra. You only needed a servant to tell you what's been apparent all along," his chair screeched when he settled back in it, echoing throughout the near empty hall.
She stammered, searching for something else to say. She thought of the greens back at the Red Keep. When she was crowned Queen, she truly believed she could win their love back. That all of her family would unite in their grief and be done with this anger. Daemon had never seen it this way at all.
She turned away, appraising the art on the wall opposite of her husband. A dragon with three heads. She had nothing to say.
His chair screeched again when he stood up to take his leave. They didn't discuss it further.
---
It would be almost five more years till Rhaenyra wrote again.
She had two more children by Daemon, both of them boys. After she birthed each one and rested from her labors, Rhaenyra penned her father immediately. She told him the weight of each boy, the name picked out for them, and how well she recovered. That was all she wrote to him and all he cared to hear. Other details, like the silver color of their hair, were immaterial.
Rhaenyra was adjusting to being the lady of Dragonstone well enough. Her bearings had been aligned to something that felt more instinctual. Her sons were isolated from any brewing discontent.
Even so, she thought about King's Landing habitually. Freedom in a nest of her own design, and when she thought of home it was in that cage.
Guests were seldom had at Dragonstone, and when they did have them they were all former soldiers Daemon knew of. Captains sporting the bright gold cloaks of the City Watch, mercenaries from the Stepstones who fought under Velaryion banners, even a few well trained mariners who had worked under the Crab Eater till they were recruited by Daemon.
They were all her husband's age more or less, most with grey specks in their beards. Their necks and shoulders were thick, and their hands loomed so very large over their cups. Sometimes over her own hand, if they felt compelled to greet her properly. They towered over her, the muscles on their back broad from swinging their swords. Their cloaks would flutter like curtains draped high above until they noticed her presence, and excused themselves from blocking her view.
She enjoyed being the only noble woman in the room with them only because of the constant attention they kept bringing to it. "Oh, gods," said one gold clock, tipsy on wine and suddenly recalling his surroundings, "forgive me, my Princess, I shouldn't have said that about your brother!"
Daemon guffawed at his companion's sudden humility. "Oh yes, we must watch our tongues in front of our future Queen. Lest she hears anything scandalous of her dearest Aegon."
Rhaenyra had her head resting against her propped up fist. She smiled wickedly and played along. "Aegon? Not my sweet, pious Aegon, who wakes early every morning to pray at the Sept."
Their guest chuckled while Daemon paused to drain his cup. "Aegon the pious, who converts every adolescent in Flea Bottom he can." said Daemon, refilling his glass himself- the servants were dismissed after dinner.
The gold cloak howled with laughter at that. "Ah, well, if it's only the madams left in Flea Bottom after he's converted all the louses, then he'll have to send his brother to-" but Daemon cut his guest off, standing up and cursing the wine he spilt down his trousers.
That had the gold cloak laughing even harder. Rhaenyra was the only one calm, and suddenly the most sober of the three of them. Daemon shuffled away to find something he could clean up with, tittering at his own mishap.
"Have to send his brother to do what?" asked Rhaenyra.
Her guest suddenly looked sheepish. "Tis only a salacious rumor, my Princess, nothing I've seen with my own eyes-" he hiccuped, excused himself, and took a long drink from his cup, "that when the younger Prince does escort his brother on occasion, he leaves the maidens to Aegon and takes their madam for himself."
"Ah," said Rhaenyra, looking back down into her half drunken chalice, "that's all, then."
---
It was late the next morning when she broke her fast alone, and received a letter from Lord Beesbury of all people.
My Princess, it began, It's come to my attention that no one has written you concerning your father, King Viserys I, or his condition...
Rhaenyra's nerves hardened from a liquid to a metal inside of her.
His letter continued on to state that the King was indeed ill, but he was already on the mend. For the next few weeks, his duties, including his seat on the Small Counsel, were to be divided by the Queen and the Hand of the King ...but please do not fret, Princess. The Maesters have promised the Queen that His Majesty shall be back in fine spirits in little time at all...
How the fuck was any of that suppose to reassure her. She wanted answers, but couldn't rely on Lord Beesbury to supply it discreetly. She thought of the last letter from her father three weeks ago. He was now so ill he couldn't write her, and Alicent was too preoccupied in maintaining a grudge that she didn't tell his heir.
She needed more information.
Their guest had left that morning when the ferry arrived to fetch him. Rhaenyra had went to bed before him or Daemon, and she suspected that they had drank all night into the early hours of the morning awaiting the ferry together. Daemon was still sound asleep even as the hours reached later in the day.
She fumbled through her desk till she found a clean, blank strip of parchment.
My dearest little brother, she addressed it diminutively in Valyrian, intentionally.
I pray this letter finds you well. I recall that your nine-and-tenth name day is fast approaching in a months time. What a wonderful festivity that shall be, I hope. She placed the month of his name day wrong by two months, again, also intentionally.
I don't believe there was ever a hunt held in honor of your second name day. What a pity that is, that during then, and even again now, our father's health looms heavy over such occasions.
Tis a shame. Perhaps I should host a great hunt in the King's Forest for you in our father's honor.
Rhaenyra was all she signed with, and had the message sent out before she could rethink anything she had written.
She had little expectation of how he would receive her early name day regards. If Alicent and Otto didn't know of her first letter, they wouldn't hear of this one either. Either Aemond would get the hint she was probing for more information, or he'd research what the Valyrian word for "cunt" was and end any further attempts of her espionage right then.
Aemond had written her back within a day. His letter happened to be the only postage she had that morning, and he had used the same seal from the Crown's collection that she recognized. A wide grin arose over her face before she even opened it. There was no one was around to enquire of why she was so amused over a stamp.
Rhaenyra,
Come to Vhagor's nest. I want something of Old Valyria.
Aemond was all the message read in Valyrian.
She flipped it over to look at the back, but saw that was truly all he wrote her. His handwriting was lighter then what she remembered, his penmanship tighter and more concise. It was harder to judge anything more with only the two sentences.
Rhaenyra tucked the letter somewhere safe.
---
Whatever little vegetation the islet had, years later it was gone. Only shanks of slate and the stench from charred remains greeted her when they arrived.
Syrax landed without much fuss this time, which was surprising. Rhaenyra disembarked and hesitantly walked away from her mount, making certain she didn't fly away abandoning her here. But Syrax remained settled where she was, and Rhaenyra continued on.
She couldn't see Vhagor when they were in the air. Certain enough, as she walked closer all she saw was the deep canyon in the coarse ground Vhargor had dug out for herself. Rhaenyra folded her arms and grimaced at Vhagor's nest: Residue from the beasts she devoured, scorch marks along the gravel, and deep trenches where her claws cut through the earth all made up her bed.
Rhaenyra sat on the soft dune slopping down to the jagged shoreline. She undid the top collar of her riding coat and fiddled with the pendant on her necklace, scanning the coast. She was unsure of how long she should stay and wait. Did Aemond bring Vhagor cattle himself? Perhaps he did, she imagined him loading his flock onto the rowboat he had before, as though he were a shepard's son instead of a king's. He could have his footmen do it for him, maybe even bring the dragonpit keepers to guide the poor souls so they could leave the islet with their lives.
Realistically, a beast as old as Vhagor would be more apt to hunting her prey. Rhaenyra could see Aemond now, childishly bemused at reports she was seen poaching from cattlemen, and how much he owed them in compensation. She saw Alicent furious at the cost. Aemond could then pout, yield to his mother's scoldings, have Vhagor only feast from creatures that wandered out into clearings from the King's Forest. Rhaenyra remembered the white stag she spared. There would be more honor in teeth and fire ripping it apart then spears.
A thundering roar reverberated from the sky. Rhaenyra looked up, and saw the speck above grow larger and larger. Vhagor wrought gale force winds upon the islet with her descent, and Rhaenyra shielded her face from the sands with her arms. She felt the vibrations from Vhagor's massive hind legs land on the ground, followed by the loud boom of her tail smacking the shore.
When the dust cleared Rhaenyra stood up and began busying herself, flicking dirt off her coat and undoing each of her braids still tightly wrapped from before she flew here. She started walking, looking to where Vhagor landed. She saw a figure with white hair in black leather from the corner of her retinue and snapped her eyes firmly downward, her boots under her dress jutting out as she marched. She grazed her fingers from her scalp down through the indented curls the braids left behind, shaking out what sand she could.
He didn't acknowledge her. She walked till she was close enough she could hear Vhagor's haggard breathing, then brushed her hair behind her and let it lay fallen along her back. She drew herself into a deep breath, plucked the strands of her silver mane entwined between her fingers and looked up.
This was not the gangly youth she wrote before.
Aemond circled from behind Vhagor, unloosening a heavy chain from his mount. The wide expanse of Aemond's brows, the length of his nose, the slope of his jawline, and even his height were entirely his grandfather. Rhaenyra wondered briefly how Otto looked when he was young, and how close it was to this.
His long white hair skirted across his back now, and he kept it tied out of his face. The only thing that was the same to her was the eyepatch, and the red lines on his skin underneath it. He did not look at her once.
"Has Father truly fallen ill?" asked Rhaenyra.
"Get everything out of your hair, did you," said Aemond while he untied the links off his dragon's saddle, his voice was raspy and deep. Rhaenyra watched the core of his throat bob against his collar. "Vhagor does like to make an entrance."
He was mocking her. Maybe her letter agitated him after all. He could've learned the Valyrian phrases for "fuck off," and "cunt" if he tried hard enough.
"Alicent didn't even write me, she had Lord Beesbury do it." She didn't think her voice would break, but hearing her words leave her lungs she sounded petulant.
His head was bowed down examining his work, and his back was turned. Rhaenyra couldn't make out a reaction. "Lord Beesbury said it is the Hand of the King who has taken over half of Father's duties," she took a step closer, "has he entrusted to you any further thoughts of sedition?"
Again, Aemond took no notice, and pretended he had not heard a word she said. He postured with his back- wider now as a man- to her, slapping away any dirt or debris from the chains he untied.
Rhaenyra shook her head, exasperated. Then she said everything next in Valyrian, "I am the blood of the Dragon. The Hightowers cannot give away what was never theirs to take."
Aemond laid down the chains he made an effort to wrap together neatly and turned to face her. He was smiling, amused at her confession. "Aegon is the blood of the Dragon as well," his grin didn't reach his eye but his Valyrian had improved, significantly, "...and so am I."
Her snarl dropped and her heart quickened, was he only going to answer her in Valyrian? Was that it- had he been so eager to flaunt his newly refined Valyrian tongue?
He sneered at her. "I'm surprised you came, actually," said Aemond. He never switched back to the common tongue, as though it had only been a formality. He shifted his weight to the other leg.
Rhaenyra took in how tall he was now. Maybe that height wasn't only a Hightower inheritance. "You invited me," she replied, if he wanted to impress her by engaging in their language so be it, "is my father truly ill?"
"Yes," he reiterated her gaffe, "your father is very ill."
She paused, but didn't linger on it. "Has Otto spoken of any plans to usurp me before Father passes?"
"I'm sure he has," Aemond folded his arms across his chest. She noticed he was broader now too. "I haven't seen him act on anything, of course. Mm- He won't, I think. He knows you'd expect that," he sucked his teeth loudly and surveyed their surroundings, "he'd prefer someone else to raise a claimant."
"None have any to raise against me," said Rhaenyra.
"Your sons, then," his teeth bared in a sly grin, "your boys."
Rage flashed across her face and this time she made no effort to hide it. Let Vhagor roar all she like. "No one's going to claim anything against them, will they Brother?"
But Vhagor didn't stir at all, and neither did her rider. Aemond didn't look at her, his one eye still inspecting their surroundings, the eyepatch on display to her. His mouth pursed tight and his nose was scrunched, perhaps he wasn't immune to the stench either.
Rhaenyra didn't have a weapon, her inheritance of Blackfyre had yet to be passed down. If Daemon had any plans on who shall inherit his blade Dark Sister, he never made mention of it to her even after the birth of their sons.
What she did have of old Valyria, she never bought a case for. Her neck had thickened since she was a girl, and it no longer hung as loose. It matched none other jewelry she owned, and it's appearance was unremarkable. Only someone looking at it carefully could decipher it was made from Valyrian steel.
"I have what you asked for," she lifted the pendant on her necklace between her fingers and held it.
He had ignored her threat but that- Aemond snapped back to her- his expression was one of shock. He locked on to her fingers twirling the necklace.
Rhaenyra didn't know what to make of his reaction, but she continued sincerely anyway, "This is made of Valyrian steel, one of the few treasures from their pyromancers left."
She had his full attention. Wisps of his hair strayed away by the winds, but he remained motionless, fixed on her. Impertinent to her gift just as he was eager.
It was more exhilarating then any information he could offer her.
Rhaenyra dropped the pendant and gathered her hair. "Help me take this off," she said, then slowly turned her back to him.
The bay was empty of any boats Rhaenyra could see, which was unusual considering how close to King's Landing they were. The sky was overcast, and the seabirds on the isle clamored where Vhagor's last meal laid. The large dragon who ruled the isle had been eerily quiet since she descended, she must have smelled another dragon she didn't know on her domain.
Finally, she heard Aemond approach.
He stood behind her, his breath fanning the crown of her head. The necklace suddenly yanked up, up her throat and tugged roughly against her windpipe.
Rhaenyra wheezed once, then steeled herself. Her free hand slipped between her neck and the chain. She wasn't going to wince.
Aemond made quick enough work of the clasp, pinched the necklace off her skin and tossed it onto the loose dirt below. Rhaenyra turned to the direction it fell- just behind her to the right- and as she did he wrapped his wide, long hands under her chin to tilt her head back. Her neck flushed to his kiss.
Rhaenyra flustered- she gasped and clawed at his hands. He didn't let go. A moan crawled out instead of any words she tried to form. She reached till she found where his face was tucked under her ear and shoved her palm against it- creating an opening for her to slip away.
When she faced him, she thought he'd be sullen. Vhagor would be slow but sure to round on her for the assault. Instead, Aemond was gingerly touching his nose where she pushed him.
He didn't retaliate. "I don't want any more jewelry."
"Then why did you ask me for-" Rhaenyra cupped the side of her neck, still wet where he laid his mark. She trailed off, the answer obvious to her now: It was why Syrax had landed without a fuss. Vhagor peered at them curiously, despite her rider being slapped.
"I was being polite," said Aemond.
He narrowed his eye at her while she stood frozen in place, if he was hurt by the rejection his expression didn't betray it. Sometime during the last five years, Aemond had fully reached manhood. All the freedom of leaving the castle behind, armor-cladding his mount, and claiming glory for his King were fully allowed to him. He could conquer and venture, take any mistress, finally achieve everything any boy could dream of.
How long had he wanted this instead?
Rhaenyra swallowed. Then, she turned her back to him once again and began to unbutton her riding coat.
She said nothing. Rhaenyra wasn't even sure if she was still breathing. The buttons snapped apart loudly with recoil one by one. She felt her hair being brushed aside when she had just started on the buttons over her abdomen. Soft lips warmed the skin where he had been before.
Rhaenyra felt his hand snake around her waist. She grabbed it and enclosed it around her breast. "Is this all it would take," she murmured, "to betray your grandsire's trust?"
Aemond didn't answered her question, instead he dug his nails into the top of her dress covering her tits. She finished undoing her coat and nudged him away to shrug it off her shoulders. Her dress below was red and loose, sewn shortly after the birth of her last child.
She gathered the thick material in one arm before she turned around. Rhaenyra had never seen him this close to her before. His pupil was blown wide and dilated, a white ring encircled it. He dragged his eye all along her face and down to where the coat bundled in her grip.
She didn't even realize he had slid his hands around her until she felt his elbows brush under her arms. Aemond flattened them against her sides, fingers splayed out. The coat pooled from her grasp onto the ground below.
He had been so bold as a youth when he insulted her marriage to Daemon by invoking Maegor, and in the same breath advising a remarriage under The Seven. Now he was tentative, prodding her for a reaction or another rejection. When he smoothed a hand up over her ribs- ghosting his fingers under the cups of her breasts- she offered none.
Her lips were shut when he leaned in and kissed them. He was soft, sentimental. Aemond's eye closed, and the kiss continued on into another, and another, building a slow, simple rhythm. It was chaste. It was warm. It even started to feel inviting. He started pushing, nipping the bottom of her lip. He glided his tongue inside to pry open her mouth and Rhaenyra failed to stifle her moan. Again he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers until she was kissing him back.
He pressed her closer, threading his fingers through the hair she combed out earlier. She pushed her tongue against his, propping herself high on her toes to nudge their angle in a different direction until he acquiesced, kissing her in tandem to the pace she set. He squeezed greedily at her hips, her waist, her chest, everything within his reach. Her fingers curled under the ornate collar of his leather doublet.
Her gut writhed with a sudden realization- Anyone brave enough to sail by Vhagor's roost to take a faster route to King's Landing could see them.
He must have had a similar thought. Aemond jolted- his mouth hung open, his lips were pink and tender- and clutched Rhaenyra around her waist, walking her further along to a slope on the dune away from the shore. They climbed clumsily till there was enough of a hill, then Aemond grappled her, shoving her down atop it.
She had no time to react: Aemond crashed his mouth onto hers as well, using his full weight to pin her flat against the sands. His knees tucked between her calves and along the hem of her dress. His kisses were rougher now, bitting and sucking at her lips. Rhaenyra balked at the sudden rowdiness. She untangled a hand free from under him and brushed through a chunk of his white hair curtaining her to give it a hard, sharp tug. He groaned into her mouth, then parted from her lips. He dug his fists into her dress collar and ripped it down the front.
Rhaenyra let out a shriek- Her breasts spilled free under the threads poking from the torn fabric. Wind chill off the bay caressed her nipples, stiffening them. She was furious. She arched her back to his touch anyway. Aemond thumbed at one of her tits, his hand large enough to enclose entirely under it. He lifted the nipple upwards into his mouth, encircling the peak between his teeth and tongue.
Amidst their entanglement Rhaenyra became aware of his cock hardening, large and terribly hot against her thigh. She had cleared her mind of his sex when he first kissed her- unsure of how far this would go- but the way he lustily shoved her around made her feel small and young. She had a burning, exhilarating hunger for it now. She wanted to know how he felt- in her fist, in her cunt, maybe even in her throat.
She made to shove her hand down between them trying to get at his belt. Aemond pushed it away, parting from her breast with a loud, wet pop before assailing the other one. He sucked in the soft, tender skin below the nipple and bit down, hard. Rhaenyra howled out a curse in the common tongue and freed her hand again, grabbing the first thing she could reach, yanking off his eyepatch-
Aemond made no motion at all when his old wound became unveiled. The eyepatch fell beside them, scattered along the dirt. Rhaenyra's hand folded up by her shoulder, withdrawn from where she had revealed his injury. She stared above her exposed breasts at the sapphire protruding from his eye socket that was undeniably the one she had given him years ago.
The stitches had closed off his eyelids entirely. Aemond must have had to picked them out, reopened the wound to completely carve out what remained of his eye. How long had it irritated, festered in him until it was removed? How long had it remained empty, aching until he found a foreign object worthy of replacing it?
Her throat had closed up entirely, unable to apologize or scream or despair. She couldn't imagine if Alicent had taken out more then a slash of her own skin, how desperate she would be to fill it back up with something of hers.
He propped up on his elbow above her, tucking some of the hair that had fallen down behind his ears and over his shoulder. What did remain fluttered along the dirt beside her. Aemond's face eclipsed hers, a manic grin spread below the glitter of his eyes. He seemed...delighted. Proud, even. She thought she saw him laugh.
The chime-clink of his belt rang aloud. Rhaenyra snapped her head to peer past him just as he was pushing his trousers down the curve of his ass. The pink head of his erect cock jutted out from under his leather doublet and fell on her thigh.
Rhaenyra seized his member and shifted her leg over him, pushing down on his robust chest to guide him onto his back. The press of her hand wasn't near enough to flip him, but he relented to her like it was. She positioned herself on her knees, spread out alongside his leather boots, and readjusted her grip on his cock. It was long and warm, soft skin encased around a throbbing muscle. Tiny rocks and clumps of dirt fell down off the back of her dress. Her hair had more sand entangled in it then before.
He reached out to enclose his own hand around her grip. Rhaenyra tightened, twisting her wrist down on it, and heard him let out a deep, rasping groan. She repeated the motion with cadence, watching the precum drool out of the tip. Aemond's groans quieted, but when she yanked his hand away to put her mouth over it he whined so loudly she thought Vhagor would wander over. Flattening her tongue, she worked enough saliva down the shaft to wet it properly. He tasted just as sour and astringent as she thought he would, and gagged when it reached the back of her tongue. Rhaenyra was thankful neither of them could smell each other fully.
Aemond abandoned Valyrian, his moans were all broken prayers in the common tongue. Her cheeks hollowed out as she tried to slide as further down as she could go without choking or tearing up, his white pubic hair irritating her nostrils when she inhaled. His hand brushed up to stroke her hair. Rhaenyra suctioned her cheeks and withdrew her slack jaw off of him.
She stood, gathering her dress up to the top of her smallclothes- careful not to lift it up further where the long, dark stretch marks from her pregnancies embedded her belly- and pulled them down far enough she could step a boot covered leg out of one of the openings. It bundled down along the other knee. Rhaenyra gripped the base of his cock, aligned and slipped the head inside her.
Her spit might not have been enough- she had rushed without stimulating herself before bringing him to her entrance. The girth of it pushed through, and Rhaenyra cried aloud in harmonious agony. Her cunt pulsed, taking it inside her further and deeper till she had impaled herself down to his base, clutching his biceps to keep her balance.
Aemond effortlessly lifted the dress up and bundled it around Rhaenyra's waist despite her holding down his arms. By doing so it allowed her to shift forward, rocking back and forth atop him. He knocked her grip off his dominant arm so he could smooth his palm over the crease between her hips and thighs, his thumb dragging along the silver curls on her cunt. She fumbled to grab his shoulders, opting for a quicker grinding motion to stimulate her clit better.
He looked beautiful like this: His long silver hair splayed along the ground, muttering to his Gods in his mother's tongue. Rhaenyra thought of what he'd do if she returned home from a battle five years later instead of her marriage. If he would have been demure with his desires, bemoaning his duty like she had. He'd seek out her attention, follow her to the throne room where she was praised for all her glory she brought their House.
She thought of Daemon's cock the first time she felt it in the brothel. She thought of fucking Aemond with it.
Her pleasure crashed, wringing her out raw when she came. Her inner walls held onto his cock, shuddering out the aftershock. Rhaenyra slipped off his shoulders and braced her arms in the dirt around him. Aemond crushed her ass in a tight squeeze the moment she let go of him and continued fucking into her. The flat block of his heel dug into the ground so he could bounce her along his lap- her tits still on full display.
Eventually this must have not been enough for him to reach his own climax: He tossed Rhaenyra back into the ground where he had her before, throwing her boot covered legs over his shoulders and held the back of her thighs. His pulled his cock fully in and out of her now, reaching as far back inside her as he could. She was still sensitive after her orgasm, her body sang with satisfaction and laid limp below him. He pressed her legs further down, forcing her to feel every inch of him as he frantically hammered into her cunt.
He was focused where their bodies had joined, his eyelid heavy and his teeth clenched. His sapphire still glittered like a beacon, a lantern that could warn ships if they were about to run aground. It was her sapphire. Rhaenyra reached out to it, her fingers tracing his face, the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, the deep red line leading to the cavern, the jewel buried within it.
Aemond snapped his attention back up to her. Her sex was visible with his manhood pounding in and out of her for all the birds and dragons on the isle to see, yet when he looked at her touching his scar that was what made her feel ashamed. She withdrew her hand from his face, and he bowed over to kiss along her neck.
He frantically quickened his pace above her, heaving and cursing. His come pumped out into her in waves, soaking her insides and trickling down onto the dirt and her dress below. Aemond collapsed on top of her, his breath hot and sticky against her clavicle. Rhaenyra clutched him to her.
For several moments, neither of them said anything. They laid there together, her legs and arms still wrapped around him, panting aloud. The wind bellowed, the sea birds clattered all around them. She started to itch where specks of dirt inlay on her bare skin, infused with her sweat.
Aemond eventually broke their embrace. He climbed up and unfurled himself from her, his hair that was once neatly tied away from his face hung loose around him like hers. As he sat beside her, shoving his softened cock back inside his trousers, he said, "My grandsire makes certain I know of Aegon's ascension to the throne one day, but that is all he tells me."
He still spoke to her in Valyrian like his seed wasn't pooling out of her, staining her dress. Rhaenyra straightened her legs and sat up. Every part of her ached, there might be bruises forming. "When I'm crowned Queen will he have me killed," she asked, already suspecting the answer.
"After Father's funeral, he might," the belt made another clink it when he tightened it back around him, "Aegon has no desire for the Iron Throne, I suspect he's as willfully ignorant of schemes to place him there as he can be. If you have Mother by your side, you'll be protected." His voice was stoic mentioning their father's eventual passing and their brother's disinterest, but fell when he brought up Alicent.
The thought burned her. Alicent wouldn't stand by her ever again. That was the problem. That was why she was here on this wretched, stinking isle in the first place. Rhaenyra bent her head down, looking at her ruined garment. She'd do best to have it shredded into strips as soon as she arrived back.
Rhaenyra did her best to tuck her breasts below the fabric that wasn't ripped. "My sons are still fond of you. Perhaps it's time you let Alicent know if you have any good will for them as well," she said.
He was still sitting on the ground by her. His arms were resting on his propped knees. "Good will," he said icily, "you think we laid together, rutted on the dirt like beasts because I have good will for your..." he trailed off, as though he could have possible forgotten the Valyrian word, "...boys?"
The manic grin he had when she tore off his eyepatch slithered back across his face. Rhaenyra sat up and took a few steps back down closer to the shoreline, the sand and whatever else cascading down off her back. He twisted his head upward. The sun cast a glare off the sapphire right at her. "I've asked enough of your family's conspiracies," she said sharply in the common tongue. They had conversed in Valyrian for his benefit long enough.
"But not of mine," said Aemond in the common tongue back to her, "I've never sworn loyalties to anyone, yet I am tasked as though I have by you all."
He stood up. Already a head higher then her own height, he towered down at her from atop the slope. "Aegon and Helaena are no real threats to anyone apart from him being the eldest son and his wife. I'm quicker with my sword and more powerful atop Vhagor," he paused, recounting it. Rhaenyra stammered, wanting to interject, but Aemond continued, "you know, Grandfather promised me the same thing you did- I could have anything I wanted when Aegon is King."
Rhaenyra went hot and cold, stupefied at this sudden confession.
"All I've wanted..." his voice quieted, "was for Mother to cease her crying over you. She is ever the loving step-parent. I hope to be just as doting as she is." His jaw twitched. "Leave that old man on Dragonstone, and marry me under The Seven."
And she saw it: She saw the fantasy from years before in front of her again: She would be crowned Queen, Alicent would cease her crying- she would love her again- and there would be no more anger. Her ascension to the Iron Throne would be perfect. She saw the dragon with three heads. She saw the Rogue Prince scorned, heldfast on Dragonstone, clutching her stolen egg with a sword drawn to her throat. She saw her Father the King- tapping his fingers nervously when he declared his second wife to be. She saw it all becoming ash.
Rhaenyra walked towards the shore, her hair sweeping in and out of her view from the breeze. She bent down over where her riding coat had fallen. The sand shook out of it well enough, and the buttons covered the tear in her dress. Her necklace took her a longer moment to find. She stuffed it inside her pocket, dirt still clinging to the chain.
---
As she left the islet, Rhaenyra never looked at him again. Her eyes were glued to her feet in the throne room six months later, arguing before Otto for her sons inheritance of Driftmark. He sat far away enough from her and Daemon at the table- closer to his grandsire- when they dined. She didn't watch to see if they drank to the toast in her name.
When he snips at her sons, she turns her back to him to order her children away. Daemon stands between them: her fierce dragon she's already fed one man to. Aemond's gaze feels like a furnace and his silence sits heavy. She doesn't turn around until she hears him walk away.