ACT II — CHAPTER III
A Rᴇᴀsᴏɴ

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Princess,

I am pleased to hear that you will be attending the tourney at Casterly Rock. It is astounding to me that Jason Lannister is throwing such a large event for the birth of his son, but I suppose Lannisters do have the coin to spare.

I will be competing in the tourney, and I intend to ask for your favor after my first victory. With hope, I will be able to secure your title as the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Best regards,
Derron Borrell

It had been a year since Myra met Derron, and they found themselves exchanging letters quite often.

On the other hand, letters between Myra and Aemond were few and far between. While she had been hasty to accept his offer rekindle their friendship, perhaps a bit too much so, Myra was still apprehensive. She knew he was no longer the kind boy she had once loved dearly. Now, he was a young man, who may prove to be every bit as cruel as his brother.

Just as they attended the wedding together, Myra and Jacaeyrs would attend the tournament together. The Princess would continue to look for potential suitors while her brother would spend all his time glaring at Aemond Targaryen.

Even though Lucerys was now deemed an appropriate age to attend social events, he elected not to go to the tournament due to Aemond's presence. Myra claimed that she had heard he would be there from Derron, but the truth was that Aemond had told her himself.

She wasn't sure if she was looking forward to seeing Aemond again. Her sensical part told her that she wasn't. The last time they had spoken, he had been callous toward her. However, another part of her, a more forthright part, counted down every second until she was in his presence again.

In the brief time they were together, Myra found that being around him was intoxicating. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him in the past year they had spent apart, his name still like a song in her head, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond ...

It was growing difficult to keep these thoughts to herself. Myra longed to tell Laisa and Ellena of her plight, if only to get Aemond out of her system, but she knew it was best not to. Gods forbid it somehow got out, and a rumor started that Myra Velaryon could not stop thinking of Aemond Targaryen.

"It is truly terrible timing," Rhaena grumbled as they studied in the library.

Rhaena and Baela were going to be visiting Rhaenys at Driftmark at the same time as the tournament was taking place, so they would not be able to attend.

"There will always be another tournament," Myra told her, flipping the page of her book.

"I was so upset to miss the wedding last year, and a tourney is much more exciting than a wedding," Rhaena sighed, "Truly terrible timing."

"You can always sulk about it with Baela, she would understand your pain more than I," Myra said.

"No, she's off with Jace somewhere. I do not wish to bother them."

"And yet you're fine bothering me?" Myra asked, a teasing smile on her face.

"You put up with my bothering. Baela does not," Rhaena said, tapping her open book repeatedly, "Are you excited to see Derron again?"

Myra shrugged, "I suppose."

"You only suppose?" Rhaena asked, "But you seem so — so giddy whenever you receive a letter from him."

Myra looked up at her, her brow raised, "Giddy?"

"Yes, giddy! You always smile when Maester Gerardys gives you a letter from him, and then you skip off to your chambers to read it."

"I do not do that," Myra said quickly.

"Yes, you do!" Rhaena argued, "Every time, without fail."

The Velaryon girl shook her head, looking back down at her book, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course, you don't," Rhaena agreed, a teasing smile on her face.

Myra chose not to engage the topic any further. She sighed, flipping another page of her book.

•⋅•⋅•

Casterly Rock was as grand as Myra had heard. It was incredibly high, carved out of stone over the Sunset Sea. It was a very beautiful castle, but Jason Lannister's boasting made it difficult to enjoy the tour.

"You know, I once sought your mother's hand," he said to Myra at one point, uncomfortably close, "I even offered to build her a dragonpit here for Syman —"

"Syrax," Myra corrected, her lips pursing.

"Ah, yes, that's what it's named," Jason went on, "I hear you ride quite the formidable beast. What do they call it?"

"His name is Maekar," Myra said, looking around for Jace, who had left their touring group, abandoning his sister in the hall of Casterly Rock. One of the few times she could use his protectiveness, he disappears somewhere.

There was Ser Carden though, standing at the door to the hall. Myra was relieved to see him — he would ensure Jason Lannister left her alone.

"A formidable name," Jason nodded, "A very — well, human name for a dragon."

"I suppose that was the point," Myra said, a tight-lipped smile on her face, "I am very tired after my long journey, my Lord. I think I will retire to my quarters for the night."

"If you would like I can es—"

"No escort needed, thank you. Besides, you should stay here, entertain your guests," Myra said quickly, slowly backing away, "Have a good night, my Lord."

With that, Myra turned around and walked as fast as she could out of the hall, Carden following along behind her.

"He speaks to me as if he wishes for my hand," Myra seethed, "As if he isn't already married! I mean, we are here to celebrate the birth of his son! It's disgraceful."

"Perhaps he hopes to wed you to his son," Carden suggested, joking.

Myra froze in her tracks. She turned to look at her sworn protector with wide eyes.

"He hopes to wed me to his son!" Myra repeated, "His infant son! I am five and ten years older than him and he — he wants me to — oh, it is sick!"

"It is the way of the world," Carden replied.

"If it is the way of the world to barter off your newborn son for a title, then I want no part in it," Myra spat.

"That is the way it is for most highborn children," Carden told her, "You and your brothers have grown up more privileged than most. You have your mother to thank for that."

"She tried to marry me off to Aegon when I was a child. How was that privileged?"

"If you had been betrothed to the prince and voiced your distaste to her, do you really believe your mother would have still made you go through with it?" Carden asked.

Myra didn't answer. Rhaenyra wouldn't have, she knew it.

"If anyone other than Jacaerys comes looking for me, tell them I'm in my quarters and have retired for the night. If my brother asks where I am, tell him I am in one of the gardens," Myra said curtly, "You may leave, I wish to be alone."

Carden nodded, "Of course, Princess."

He turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Myra alone.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply before setting off down the hallway, in the opposite direction as Ser Carden.

On their extensive tour around the castle, Jasons Lannister had shown them many gardens. Myra loved gardens, this was a well known fact, but even she thought there were a bit too many.

After walking aimlessly through the corridors, she finally found one. It was filled with bushes and flowers, all surrounding a giant tree. It reminded her of the Godswood in King's Landing, by how it was laid out.

Myra walked over to the tree and sat down against it, closing her eyes. She needed to choose who she wished to marry soon, she decided. She didn't want anyone else trying to pawn their sons off to her like they were some piece of meat.

She had not meant to accuse her mother of not caring about her wishes. If Rhaenyra didn't care, Myra wouldn't be sitting under that tree, instead she would already be betrothed to whatever lord gave Rhaenyra the best political advantage.

But she didn't. Rhaenyra wanted Myra to be content in her marriage. One day Myra would be Queen, and she shouldn't have to sit the throne with someone she detested.

Rhaenyra had been doing her best to help prepare Myra for the responsibility of ruling the Seven Kingdoms. She did her best to make sure the young girl understood the weight of the crown without even really knowing it herself.

Myra didn't mind the responsibility. She felt prepared for it, or as prepared as a fifteen year old could be. However, there was one thing she wasn't prepared for, and that was the idea of changing her last name.

It was decided before she was born that when Rhaenyra ascended the throne, Myra would be referred to as Myra Targaryen as opposed to Myra Velaryon. She didn't like that.

Myra didn't want people to forget she was a Velaryon, that she was just as much salt and sea as she was fire and blood. Would history only remember her as Myra Targaryen?

She would have to make sure that all the history books written would remember that she had been a Velaryon as well. But how could she do that after she was dead? Most history books she read were written years after those they mentioned were gone.

Perhaps she would ensure she was buried at sea, like Laena Velaryon was. Then no one would forget. Myra Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, they would write, returned to the sea like a true Velaryon.

"Exactly where I expected you to be."

Myra opened her eyes and practically jumped to her feet. Aemond was slowly entering the garden, his hands behind his back. She was vividly reminded of the last time she saw him, in the garden at Maidenpool.

Gods, she thought, Aemond was right. She really did like gardens.

"When did you arrive?" Myra asked, leaning back against the tree.

"Not long ago," Aemond answered, "I arrived at the same time as that lord from Sweetsister."

"Derron? Where is he?"

"On a tour with Jason Lannister, a rather insufferable one, I would imagine," he said. Aemond stopped his slow approach, leaving a sizable distance between the two.

"He's leading another tour?" Myra laughed, "He's truly unbelievable. How did you get out of it?"

"I have already been to Casterly Rock and been through the dreaded thing. I told him I wished to rest before tomorrow."

"Are you competing in the tourney?"

"No. I don't give a shit about tourneys."

Myra nodded. She wasn't sure what to say to him. Their letters only ever consisted of short descriptions of their days. Their attempt at rekindling their friendship was proving to be a weak one.

"How did you know which garden I would be in?" she decided on, holding her hands behind her back as she picked at her nails.

"I didn't," Aemond told her.

"But there's a dozen gardens here," Myra stated.

"There are."

And then they were silent again. Myra took the time to study him. Not much had changed, except that he was a bit taller and his hair had grown ever so slightly. He looked good.

"What were you thinking about? Before I disturbed you?" Aemond asked, stepping closer to her.

"You didn't disturb me," Myra promptly replied, "In truth, I was thinking of my burial."

Aemond tilted his head, his brow scrunching in confusion as a small hint of a smile formed on his face, "May I ask why?"

"When I ascend the Iron Throne, I will do so bearing the name Targaryen. I do not want my Velaryon roots to be lost in history," Myra explained, "If I am returned to the sea instead of burned, they won't forget."

Aemond hummed, not saying anything. Myra, who was still picking at her nails, bit her lip nervously.

"Do you think it's foolish?" she asked, worried by his silence.

"No," Aemond answered immediately, "I think it's quite honorable, to honor your ancestry."

Myra smiled slightly, glad to have his approval. Jace would have her head if he knew she was smiling like this at him. Her smile quickly dropped.

"I am very tired," Myra suddenly stated, looking down at her feet, "I think I'll retire for the night — tomorrow will be a long day, after all."

Aemond hummed, "You speak as though you are competing in the tourney."

"I do, don't I?" Myra asked, her smile returning, brighter than it had been before.

Talking to Aemond was very odd, she realized. She wasn't sure what to say to him, and their conversations felt uncomfortable as the weight of their past hung over them. But she enjoyed being around him, as humiliating it was to admit.

Myra subdued her smile so that it was tight-lipped, "I should go, though. Goodnight, Aemond."

She started to walk past him and out of the garden.

"I can escort you, if you would like."

Myra quickly turned back around. Aemond was looking at her earnestly, his gaze soft.

She nodded, "Of course."

He quickly caught up to where she stood and, together, they walked through the corridors of Casterly Rock.

Their silence should be uncomfortable, as the air was tense between them, but Myra felt very at peace. She always felt at peace with Aemond, as much as she hated to admit it.

"I heard Helaena had another son," she said, trying to make conversation, "His name is Maegor?"

"Maelor," Aemond corrected, "I heard your mother had another son, as well."

"Yes, Viserys, after Grandsire," Myra replied, "I wanted another sister, but I am starting to get the impression I won't have another."

"You consider Baela and Rhaena your sisters?" Aemond asked, looking at her closely.

"Of course," Myra said, "We're sisters in every way except our names."

"So it is a name that determines one's siblings?"

Myra didn't answer. Instead, she looked at him through the corner of her eye, waiting for him to say something about one of her brothers.

"Your mother hasn't been much of a sister to me, yet we share the same last name," Aemond went on.

Myra snapped her head towards him. That had been the last thing she expected him to day.

"Well — I —" she could not find words to say. He was right, she supposed. Rhaenyra never spoke of her four younger siblings. Myra couldn't imagine never speaking of any of her siblings.

"I cannot speak for my mother," she came up with, "But I believe what I say. And I am sorry my mother hasn't been a sister to you."

"No need to apologize. I never needed her to be one," Aemond said.

They rounded the corner, and Myra saw Carden dutifully standing outsider her quarters, waiting for her return. Myra's eyes widened, and she quickly pushed Aemond back and out of her protector's eyesight.

"Thank you for escorting me, but I can go on my own from here," she told him.

A teasing smile grew on Aemond's face as he looked down at her, "Why? You do not wish for your knight to see me with you?"

"No," Myra lied. She suddenly became very aware that her hands were still resting on his chest after she had pushed him. She quickly lowered them and held them behind her back.

But Aemond had noticed something, as his smile fell and he gripped onto one of Myra's arms and pulled her hand towards him.

"What are you —"

"You're bleeding," Aemond stated, looking intently at her fingers.

Myra tensed. She had been nervously picking at her fingernails so much that they had started to bleed. She hadn't even noticed.

"I'll be fine," Myra replied, taking her hand away and placing it back behind her back, "People have suffered worse injuries."

She had meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but immediately regretted her words as she looked at Aemond's eyepatch and the scar that ran down his face.

"Yes, they have," he agreed, "If you are certain you will be fine, then I won't bother you anymore. Goodnight, Myra."

"Goodnight," Myra said, her voice soft.

They looked at each other for a few moments longer, really looked at each other. Myra found herself wishing they had written more over the past year.

Then Aemond turned sharply and sauntered down the hallway. She watched him go, and when he was out of sight, she looked down at her hands.

Dried blood surrounded each of her fingernails. She had been picking at them to ease her nerves for years now, but never once had they bled.

•⋅•⋅•

Myra realized very quickly that she had no taste for tourneys.

She failed to see the entertainment in men attacking one another with sticks, and moving to combat if their anger got to them. But alas, Myra knew she had a role to play, so she cheered and smiled falsely each time a man was knocked from his horse.

The tournament was held in a field not far outside Casterly Rock. Large wooden stands had been constructed for onlookers, and a large box for members of the Lannister family, as well as the princess and princes.

As royalty of the realm, Myra, Jacaerys, and Aemond were given front row seats in the box, along with Tyland Lannister, who had come from King's Landing with Aemond. To try and keep an argument, or worse, from breaking out, Myra made sure to sit in between Jace and Aemond.

Tyland sat on Jace's other side, and Myra would have felt bad for her brother, but she was still annoyed that he left her alone with Jason. So, she secretly listened in a sort of joy as Tyland talked his ear off.

There was a difference, Myra thought, between violence in war and violence for entertainment. Violence in war was awful, seen as a necessary evil by everyone. Violence for entertainment was still awful, but seen as a joy, a fun event for children to watch and wine to be poured over.

Myra found it sickening. She watched silently as two men fought after one had been knocked from his horse. She picked at her nails uncomfortably, just wanting it be over.

Aemond was actively burning a whole into the side of her head. Myra did her best not to look at him — Jace would be furious if he saw them talking.

"If you don't stop that, you'll start bleeding again," Aemond said in her ear, his voice low. Myra jumped slightly, not expecting him to be so close to her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, curling her hands into fists so that her fingers were out of his sight.

Aemond hummed, leaning back in his seat, his eye darting between her hands and her face.

She hated him. Well, she didn't hate him, but she hated that she didn't hate him, and that was hatred enough. If she weren't a princess and he weren't a prince, she would grab hold of his stupid eyepatch, pull it back, and then release it so that it smacked him in the face.

"Next, the young lord of Sweetsister, Derron Borrell, shall face Jason Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock!"

Myra sat up in her seat as Derron entered the jousting field. He waved to the crowd, and his gaze lingered on Myra longer than it had anywhere else. The Velaryon girl could not hold back her smile.

Derron mounted his horse and took a lance from one of the squires, getting into position. Myra held her breath as she watched Jason Lannister do the same. Why did Derron have to go up against Jason Lannister first?

He was an irritating man, yes, but he was a formidable warrior. Derron was just the heir to a small house, barely nine and ten.

Before she knew it, Derron and Jason were charging at one another. Myra gripped onto the arms of her chair, flinching when they collided.

Derron's lance had broken, but he had not fallen from his horse — he grabbed a new lance from one of the squires, and rounded to charge again. Jason and Derron headed towards eachother, and when they collided for the second time, Derron knocked Jason off his horse.

Jason, furious in this defeat, stood up and called for a sword. Derron hopped down from his horse, and a sword was thrust into his hand.

Then they were fighting, the loud clang of swords rang through the newly constructed arena, the cheers of the crowd even louder. Myra grabbed onto Jace's hand, squeezing it so tight that Jace later swore he saw it turn purple.

Derron managed to land a kick into Jason's stomach. The older Lord stumbled back, his arms outstretched. Derron took the opportunity to kick him again, this time sending Jason falling to the ground. His sword went flying form his hand, and before he could retrieve it, Derron was standing over him, the tip of his sword digging into Jason's neck.

Myra couldn't stop the wide smile that grew on her face as Derron came over to the box. Tyland Lannister stood up and headed over to the railing.

"Congrats on besting my brother, young lord," he said bitterly.

"Thank you, My Lord," Derron said, nodding as his eyes drifting over to Myra, "I was hoping to ask for the Princess' favor."

Her smile never faded as Laisa handed her the small wreath Myra had made the other night. She walked over to the railing and threw the wreath down to Derron.

"I wish you good fortune, lord," Myra called, leaning against the railing.

"With your favor, I could conquer the world," Derron replied.

He walked away, preparing for his next competitor. Myra watched him go in awe, doing her best to bite back her smile. When she turned around to go back to her seat, however, there was no reason to hold it back, as it immediately fell.

Aemond was looking at her coldly, and all she could see behind his eye was anger. Slowly, she returned to her seat, trying not to look over at him.

She was grateful for the distraction Jace gave as he leaned over to whisper, "That was quite the showing, was it not."

"It was," Myra agreed, focusing all of her energy onto Derron so that she did not glance over at Aemond.

"Is he still the only one you have your eye on?" Jace asked, his voice still a whisper.

Myra looked over at him, "You sound like Rhaena."

Jace laughed, "I'll that that as a yes."

Myra did her best to focus on the tournament, but she could not forget how Aemond looked at her after she gave her favor to Derron. Against her better judgement, she began to glance over at him.

While she did not allow herself to look at his face, she did see how Aemond was gripping the arm of his chair, so hard that his knuckles turned white.

•⋅•⋅•

Derron did not win the tournament, but he did much better than anyone expected.

He had been the runner up in the tournament, unable to defeat the young lord for House Dustin, a Northern house. Myra had never met a Northerner before, and was keen to speak to him at the feast following the tournament.

"It is rare for a Northerner to come down so far South," Myra remarked.

In their short conversation, Conrad Dustin told her he hailed from Barrowton, and had a brother who was four years older than him. They had found a quiet place by the wall as everyone else mingled in the hall.

"Yes, well, I am a second son. My father thought that since I am not set to inherit anything that I should see the world," Conrad told her, "I think he wishes for me to become a knight."

"It's even more rare for a Northerner to become a knight than it is for one to come South," Myra said.

"I suppose I am a very rare individual then."

Myra laughed, "I suppose you are. I hope you see all the world that you wish, and that one day I may call you Ser Conrad."

"Perhaps one day you can name me to your Queensguard," Conrad suggested, his brow raised and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Perhaps," Myra said, "I should go find my brother now, but it was nice to meet you, my lord."

"Likewise, Princess," Conrad said, bowing slightly.

Myra turned from him and began to walk through the crowd, looking for Jacaerys. Instead, she saw Derron across the room. She immediately began to make her way over, but someone roughly grabbing her arm stopped her.

"I need to speak with you," Aemond said, pulling her through the crowd.

Myra looked up at him, shocked, "Can it wait? I am trying to —"

"It can't wait."

Myra was relieved that everyone was too busy talking or too drunk on wine to notice Aemond dragging her through the Great Hall. That was, at least, until they reached the door, where Carden immediately put his hand on the hilt of his sword and began to advance towards them.

"It's fine, Ser Carden," Myra quickly told him, her voice slightly panicked, "You can stand down. I'll be back shortly — don't tell Jacaerys."

Reluctantly, Carden sheathed his sword, and Myra sighed in relief.

Aemond seemed not to care that Carden was preparing to strike him, as he continued to drag Myra out of the Hall and down the corridor. He did not let go until they were far enough away that the noise from the Hall only sounded like a faint whisper. When he did let go, Myra pulled her arm close to her, backing up against the wall behind her to try and create some distance between them.

Myra glared up at him, suddenly filled with rage, "What is wrong with you?"

"You plan to marry Derron Borrell?"

For a moment, all Myra could do was stare at him in disbelief. Then, she sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered, "You cannot be serious."

"I am serious," Aemond said, "Do you?"

"I do not know what I plan to do," Myra snapped, her arms dropping to her side.

"But you're thinking about it."

"So what if I was?" Myra asked, "I will rule the Seven Kingdoms someday, and I have to be married. Derron would be a good match."

"You cannot marry him," Aemond stated.

Myra scoffed, "And why not?"

"He is too old."

"Oh, please. Remind me of your mother and father's ages?"

"He is too weak," Aemond said sharply, "It's in his name, Borrell of Sweetsister. He's too soft to be a king."

"Who are you to determine who is and isn't too soft to be a king?" Myra asked, "I would rather marry someone deemed too soft than some old, powerful lord that I could never grow to love."

"So you plan to marry him for love?" Aemond questioned.

"I plan to marry with the idea of love," Myra replied, "Derron is kind and honorable. One day, I am sure I can grow to love him if needed."

"You cannot marry him," Aemond repeated.

"Why not?" Myra asked, stepping closer to him, "You have yet to give me a valid reason as to why I should not. Give me a reason, Aemond. Give me a reason."

She searched his eye, waiting for him to answer. Aemond looked down at her, and she couldn't tell if he was hurt or angry.

Myra scoffed, stepping away from him.

"I do not even know why I am asking you," she said, mostly to herself, "I don't even know you."

"You do know me —"

"No, I don't!" Myra shouted, Aemond's eye widening slightly, "The letters you send me are three sentences long, if I am lucky, and all you do is talk of what you did that day, and you do the same things everyday! You train, you read, and you ride Vhagar! That is all I know of you!"

"You act as if your letters are some great history book!" Aemond argued, "You read, ride your dragon, and spend days with your siblings!"

"You are the one who wanted to rekindle our friendship! 'Experience our bond' again! Not me!" Myra spat, "I do not know why, as you clearly don't care for me. You know, you have never once said anything about the death of my father."

"That was years ago —"

"I waited for you to write to me, after it happened," Myra went on, her voice suddenly losing its anger, "I do not know why, but I did. For weeks. No letter came. After I claimed Maekar, you were the first person I wanted to tell. But I couldn't."

Aemond's jaw tensed, "What does this have to do with anything?"

"I don't know," Myra answered, "Do you remember what I told you after you first wrote to me? That we would have to prove ourselves to one another? I would say we both failed. Perhaps that's all we you and I are meant to be. Failures."

Myra began to walk away, but Aemond grabbed ahold of her arm again, "I don't want us to be failures."

"It doesn't matter what you want. Nor does it matter what I want," she told him, "I can't prove myself to you unless you prove yourself first, and you haven't."

"I can."

"Then why haven't you?"

Aemond was taken aback. His grip on her arm loosened. Myra sighed, and she was hit by a wave of melancholy.

"Give me a reason, Aemond," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Give me a reason."

He bit his lip, looking down at his feet.

"I can prove it to you," was all he said.

Myra shook her head, pursing her lips, "We'll see."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp and walked off down the corridor, back to the feast, leaving Aemond with four words ringing through his head: Give me a reason.

────── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──────

WRITTEN: september 2024
WORDS: 5,078

AUTHOR'S NOTE! i should be sleeping right now but i had to get this out. it's unedited so sorry if it sucks but i had to publish it!!

sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, i am in college and i have things going on in my life. i'll try to post more but i make no promises.

quick question: DOES THIS MAKE SENSE?? like they're argument at the end??? it makes sense to me but i'm worried it doesn't make sense 😭😭 if it doesn't let me know i'll try to fix it

i hope you enjoyed this chapter! thank you so much for reading :)