𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘.He had slain the bastard, involuntarily, to his dismay. Vhagar had disobeyed him, but he supposed dragons would act however they pleased in the end.

Nevertheless, regret bubbled inside him like a vile poison, he would follow suit in the way of his mount. Aemond would do as he pleased.

He could recall the shouts of his mother, condemning him for the act. It could have been amusing, at one time. The entirety of the realm now viewed him as a kinslayer.

It made him feel important, establishing himself as one not to be trifled with. Privately, he could admit there was a certain unplaceable emptiness.

Aegon had summoned Aemond to a council meeting to discuss matters that did not particularly interest him. He had already fashioned his own plans, much and more cunning than whatever his halfwit brother could produce.

His mother was not fond of his presence at the table, that much was clear. Aemond remained composed as the coin in his hand flitted between his fingers.

"The Riverlords can declare for me, lest they meet Sunfyre and Vhagar," Aegon stated flippantly. It annoyed Aemond, his brothers' unseriousness.

Establishing claim in Harrenhal was his own idea, an obvious one at that. All other lords in the surrounding area would bend the knee and follow suit.

"Rhaenyra has dragons." Alicent states.

"Mine are bigger." Aegon smirks.

Aemond wished to scoff at his brother's words. Vhagar was his. He alone mounted the biggest dragon. In some wicked irony, he is restrained to guard Kings Landing against attacks.

'Have you maintained your grip on my mother's dragon?' Aemond recalled the voice of Rhaella. At that time, it must have been a bitter jab for something she lacked. But her compelling voice that polluted his mind was almost mocking him.

It was not a possibility that Rhaella could have known Vhagar would do such a thing.

Aemond's eye flitted at the memory of her. Surely Rhaella had since heard the news by now. He longed to see her; Rhaella would be beyond furious with him, she would glare at him with those harsh eyes he adored terribly.

Aemond's grip on the coin tightened as he listened to the blabber of the counsel continue on.

His own plans would be heard, he would make sure of it.

                                                                    -------------

The map was lit by candlelight as Aemond plotted out his own war in the company of Ser Criston Cole. They had bonded over the death of the strong bastard. Cole assured him it was necessary. Aemond would not be remiss to recognize the personal conviction in the knight's tone.

"It is a canny scheme." Ser Criston Cole admitted once he heard Aemond's proposal.

"But moot." Aemond leaned back in the chair,eye fixed onto the lines on the map that highlighted Riverrun.

"A war with dragons is inevitable." Criston Cole sighed out. Both sides engaged in a brinkmanship; Who would be the first to deliver fire and blood?

If Aemond was king, he would have since scorched Dragonstone and the Bitch Queen's supporters. Perhaps he would take Rhaella to his side before the fact. She could come to understand later, as Aemond knew she would.

"Alicent blames me for starting this war," Aemond said, a cruel smile displayed on his mouth.

It was strange to Aemond, why was he at fault? His mother plotted to usurp his father, her husband's throne.

"Your mother is gentle, Rhaenyra is the cunning spider." Criston Cole says after a time.

"She holds love for our enemy, that would make her a fool," Aemond says cooly. But alas there it was again, stabbing him in the chest.

Sharp hypocrisy. But his was different, he assured himself. Their love is different.

She loved him.

"Rhaella is a viper herself, more so now if she is under Rhaenyra." Criston Cole added.

Aemond's temper flared. Cole had forgotten himself, he knew nothing.

"Rhaella is of no consequence." Aemond decides out loud.

Criston Cole raised a brow. "She killed a kingsguard, you know."

A ghost of a smile found its way to Aemond's face. Something akin to pride swelled.

She was Daemon's daughter after all.

His Rhaella, fighting a guard. She had joined him in spilling blood. It was a comfort Aemond took in stride.

"She has no dragon," Aemond said. His tone was indicative of ending the conversation, which Criston Cole took note of.

.........

Aemond's longing had driven him to the streets of Silk that night. He recalled Rhaella's hands over him, she had been so uncharacteristically pliant for him. Her voice was lofty and skin ever so soft.

She knew her place, it seemed. Under him.

He craved something familiar to him. But she was far from him now, falling into a pit of black under the pretender.

Familiar led him to the only other women he had known.

"My prince." The Madame Sylvie greeted expectantly. She eyed his body down in a practiced glance.

Aemond did not speak much, as was routine. He only wished to feel.

                                                                -------------

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘. Self-hatred ate her up like a parasite. Luke was dead and she still thought of Aemond. Rhaena had not left her room in days and she still thought of him.

Had he finally let his missing eye guide his temper? Surely there had to be more.

And if there wasn't? She didn't dare think that far.

It had been ten days since the death of Lucerys Velaryon. The Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen had scarcely been seen, leaving in the early mornings and entering the castle late into the night.

Searching for a body she'd likely never find, Rhaella figured. It was hardly her place to voice the opinion.

After the discovery that she had been meddling with the Cannibal dragon, Daemon snapped at her. Rhaella did not shrink, conviction had become her resolve.

From then on, her father decided that ignoring her altogether would be easier than back and forth.

Rhaella leaned her head back onto the wall of the cave, her curls catching in its rough fixtures.

Aegrarax was munching greedily on the dragon egg she had brought for him. In total, Rhaella had taken six to him over the course of a fortnight.

He still had not yet allowed Rhaella to fly, much to her frustration. But she must favor patience, a fact she reminded herself daily.

Dragons were not slaves. And wild dragons certainly weren't absolved of that point.

Rhaella reached out to touch him, taking comfort in the hardened scales. The Cannibal and grown something of used to her being in his territory.

Sometimes, he huffed in her direction in greeting. It made Rhaella grin. Her name day came and went. It was not celebrated in earnest. She received a letter from her grandsire, Corlys. Her grandmother had gifted her a dragon hairpin fashioned from Valyrian steel.

"You could stand to be more thankful," Rhaella muttered to the dragon. Climbing to the eggs was some task, soon someone would take notice.

The Cannibal's cave had become her new respite, something familiar to her.

It was dusk when Rhaella decided to return to the castle. She descended from the dragonmount with ease. It was common as of late that her dress was streaked with soot and ash. She sported it like a badge of honor.

The knights at the door moved aside for Rhaella as she entered. She wished to change her clothes, however the light of the painted table caught her eye.

The black council had gathered, awaiting their queen. It must've been under her father's command, as she was not informed of the meeting.

Jacaerys and not yet returned from Winterfell, no doubt still flying the distance.

Rhaena avoided the gaze of Rhaella, choosing to turn away. Perhaps she held it against her sister. Rhaella could hardly fault her for it. Sometimes it felt as though she was on Vhagar's back during the act.

Still, the stinging pain of being shunned by Rhaena was unshakeable.

Rhaella was alone, again.

She took her place on the opposite side of the table. Her eyes trailed over the lines of fire, outlining their path.

The blockade was upkept by Rhaenys, cutting off supplies to Kingslanding. Rhaella thought it was a rather passive-aggressive strategy. She could not be too critical though, she would've acted similarly.

"I see you've grown the sense to leave your cave," Daemon said. It had occurred to Rhaella that it was the first sentence her father had spoken in her direction in days.

He was softening.

"Sorry father, "Rhaella replied immediately. Her hands held each other, hoping it would help.

"Time must have left me."

Daemon gave something of a scoff. It satisfied Rhaella anyhow.

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her name." Ser Erryk Cargyll announced.

All turned to see the sight. Rhaella didn't see a Queen nor a protector of the realm.

She only saw a grieving mother. Rhaenyra's hair was strewn messily. Dried tears streaked her face as she gripped a cloak in her hand with a deadly grip.

Rhaella supposed she had found something of value. Something to burn.

"Your council awaits your command," Daemon said. His hands hovered over the handle of dark sister.

Rhaenyra did not speak for a time. Fresh tears began to trail down.

"I want Aemond Targaryen." Queen Rhaenyra declares.

No one spoke. What more was there to say? Rhaella's hand twitched as plundering guilt choked her.

Even now, she could not rid herself of..whatever this was.

                       Love or blind obsession Rhaella couldn't be sure.
It was not a statement, the queen's words. It was an order.

For her father. He would kill Aemond, likely.

She should let it be. It would be the only way.

So why did her heart cry so profusely?

Queen Rhaenyra limped off to her chambers. One by one the lords exited the room.

"Rhaena?" Rhaella called. It proved fruitless as she was ignored.

Rhaella in a culpable desperation reaches for her sister's arm, which was jerked away instantly.

"Leave me." Rhaena hissed.

Alright then. She would not force it.

Finding herself in need of distraction, Rhaella trailed after her father.

She ensured there was a great bit of distance, lest she is noticed.

She found herself venturing further into the depths of the castle.

To the prisons.

Rhaella waited for a moment behind the door. Her ear strained as she attempted to listen for anything.

Mayhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her,but there was a voice she knew well that rang out.

Rhaella crawled out of sight as she watched Daemon stomp out of the cells in a huff.

"They should be treated as traitors to the crown." He barked out to the guard.

Her curiosity was officially peaked. After the halls cleared, Rhaella made her way to the holding cells.

And there sat Mysaria and Astris. Their clothes were dirty and their eyes tired.

Rhaella simply stared, eyes slightly widened.

"I am in no mood to deal with you of all people." Mysaria groaned.

Astris, at the sight of Rhaella, found it in herself to be accepting.

"I figured you'd find your way here, sooner or later," Astris said, her dark irises sparkling.

"How?" Was the first word that forced itself out of Rhaella. Last she saw them it was in flea bottom.

"Otto Hightower set fire to our home, that cunt." Astris muttered.

"And your dear father seems to think we are traitors to the realm," Mysaria adds darkly.

Rhaella leaned forward to the bars, eyes darting to and from the two women. Astris seemed mostly unharmed. Rhaella released a breath.

"Has he harmed you?" Rhaella questioned.

Mysaria shrugged her shoulders. She had been Daemon's previous paramore, Rhaella figured she was used to as much.

"He does not remember me, thank the Gods," Astris said.

Rhaella shook her head. She could not allow Astris to stay here like this. She was no longer her handmaid, she was a friend.

"I cannot assure for Mysaria but I shall find a way to free you," Rhaella promised she hoped it was a possibility.

"Take your time," Mysaria said snarkily.

                                                                ---------

The following morning, the funeral for Lucerys Velaryon took place.

Rhaella stood by her grandmother, who placed a hand onto her shoulder. The warmth scorched her body.

Her grandmother was offering comfort and she did not deserve it.

Guilt clung unto her once more.

She was undeserving.

Rhaella watched as fire was set to Luke's clothes. Little Joffery threw a toy into the pyre as Jace held him.

The smoke caused her eyes to water. Perhaps she could cry, but she surrendered to the plummeting numbness.

If Luke were here, he'd make a joke of her condition. 'the strange one cannot cry for her cousin?'

Rhaena's choked sobs were agonizing. She wished to hug her sister,to apologize for the loss of her betrothed.

Maybe she could apologize for being the way she was. Whatever she was.

For now, Rhaella bowed her head,if Luke could feel her pains, she hoped he could forgive her.