The sea speaks more honestly
to those willing to drown

- Irtiqa Nabi

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

101 AC

"Congratulations, my prince," the Grand Maester smiled as he turned to look at Rhaegon. "Princess Aella is with child." The moment those words left the man's mouth, Aella felt her throat close in on itself. Her face had paled, undoubtedly, as it always did when fear and anxiousness gripped her heart and mind like heavy black chains. No, she thought, this could not be possible. She had drank the moon tea! She had every ingredient needed! She had followed every single instruction given to her! This could not be happening.

Slowly, she turned to look at her husband, who had not moved or said anything to answer the maester's congratulations at all. One arm was folded over his chest, his other hand covered his mouth as if he was deep in thought. When their eyes met, Aella had to fight the urge to swallow thickly. She had to pretend everything was fine. She had to. Even if she knew, that Rhaegon knew. Because of course he knew. He was not a fool.

The last time they had lain together, the last time she had allowed him near her bed... five months prior. They both knew it. She would've been showing by now, would've had symptoms before this. Thoughts raced through her mind. Ideas of how to make this right. How to make Rhaegon think that the child she was carrying was in fact his and not someone else's. His brother's, but he did not know that now.

At the thought, Aella felt the need to vomit. This child was Daemon's. How was she supposed to tell him? The child was his, and she did not think there was a reality in which he would simply accept his child being raised by another man, even if that man was his brother.

"How far along?" Rhaegon asked, his voice soft and unbothered. As if nothing was wrong, as if he was just wondering. The Grand Maester tilted his head, mulling over his thoughts before he gave Rhaegon an estimation. If he had asked Aella, she would be able to tell him. Two months and a week. That is how long it had been since she had lain with Daemon. It seemed that one night would cost her more than she had anticipated. She wanted to hit herself for being so stupid. How could she allow this to happen? When had she allowed emotions to guide her so easily?

"Two or three months, I believe, but we will know for certain once the pregnancy is further along," the maester answered with a smile. Gods, the man did not know what was happening. Rhaegon pursed his lips, then nodded. "I will leave you now, my Prince." Another nod, and then the maester left and closed the door to Aella's chambers.

Silence enveloped the room like a heavy blanket of snow. Cold, yet serene. Somehow it managed to be both. Rhaegon did not look at her for awhile, giving them just a few moments more where everything would be alright between them. Aella felt the world slowly start caving in on itself. And then, as if the Mother herself had thrown her a rope in a raging sea, Rhaegon said something she had not anticipated in the slightest.

"I was wondering why I woke up without a shirt that night two month ago," he said, clicking his tongue as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "I never sleep shirtless," he added as an off handed remark. Aella blinked at him. Slowly, the memory of that night came back to her. Yes, she remembered now. The night Prince Baelon had revealed to them all that he was going to be Hand. Viserys had convinced both of his brothers to go drinking with him that night, and when Rhaegon returned to the keep mere hours before dawn, he was drunker than Aella had ever seen him. Perhaps this truly was a blessing from the Gods themselves. Slowly, Aella nodded and smiled at him, though she was sure it was the most tense thing Rhaegon had ever witnessed.

"You were insatiable that night," she told him, pushing some humour into her voice almost forcefully. They had not lain together that night. No, he had been too drunk to even stand at one point. She had never seen him so happy and giggly. It had been sweet to see. Even harder to lie to him in the morning and pretend she had not lain with his brother a few nights prior. And his shirt... she had to take it off for him, for it was covered in cheap ale and reeked of sweat and taverns.

Rhaegon hummed, with a small nod of his head. The smile he gave her was just as tight and uncertain as the one she had given him.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The moment that Rhaegon had made it far enough into the gardens, into one of the more hidden corners that rarely anyone ever visited, he bent at his waist and emptied his stomach. With the palm of his hand, he leaned against the trunk of a small oak tree. He heaved a few heavy breaths as tears pooled in his eyes. He was alone now, he did not have to hold it back anymore.

There was something in his mind that told him he should have know. Should have expected it, really. It was punishment for everything he had done. He killed his mother. Sentenced his father to a lifetime of suffering without the love of his life. Stole Viserys' mother from him. Took away any chance of Daemon having any memories of the great Alyssa Targaryen, the woman who birthed him, because he was too young when Rhaegon had torn her open.

That was not all either. Aella would never be happy with him. He should've expected it. But still, he had hoped. He had hoped that maybe... that somebody... no, he should not have hoped. It was his turn to get hurt. His turn to feel even an ounce of the same suffering that his family had experienced. At his hand or someone else's, it did not matter. It was simply his turn. There had never lived a Targaryen who had not felt pain. Why should he be the first one.

His stomach heaved, and Rhaegon choked as rancid bile ran up his throat, joining the puddle of his own vomit. When it stopped, he inhaled slowly, carefully to make sure his throat and stomach did not seize again.

Gods, she was pregnant. Pregnant. Carrying a child. And he knew for a fact that it was not his. And she had lied to his face about it. He supposed he gave her the perfect opportunity, but still. She lied about it. He knew that if he marched back into that room and asked her directly, she would do so again. They had promised to be honest to one another. And she had not only lain with someone else, but gotten pregnant with the man's child and had not bothered to admit to a single one of those actions. Would he have been hurt and angry if she had? Yes, he was hurt and angry right now. But he wouldn't have used it against her. Wouldn't have demanded punishment for infidelity because whatever else they may or may not be to one another, she was still his cousin. His family. And he would not see her or the child hurt.

It was the worst thing, really, that he had to pretend and be happy about the child's existence now. Stand outside of Aella's door as she birthed it, just as he had done with Aemon and Daella because if he didn't, he would be questioned. He had to accept it as his own, even if it would hurt him to even look at it. He would have to raise it, love it. Because who would he be if he denied this child the love of a father? He himself had been denied a mother's love. Subjecting a child to the same simply because its mother made a mistake would be cruel. And Rhaegon was not cruel.

Slowly, he rightened himself, inhaling once more to calm his rapidly beating heart. It threatened to burn a hole in his chest with how fast it moved. Yes, he would have to accept it. He would have to sacrifice for the sake of his family, just as he had done many times before. He would do it.

Even if he did not want to.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

With the death of Prince Baelon, the realm was once more thrown into turmoil as the inheritance of the Iron Throne became unclear. Prince Baelon's son, Viserys, or Prince Aemon's daughter, Rhaenys? The male heir or the daughter of the prince who had been meant to inherit it all. King Jaehaerys, as he often did, thought it best to lay this decision in the hands of the lords.

Aella hated him for it. The old man could not make a single decision for himself anymore. Or rather, he could, he just wouldn't do it because then he would have to admit that he did not want to place Rhaenys on the throne. Because she was a woman, and if she inherited, it would set a precedent that a woman could inherit. And Rhaenys's eldest child was a girl. Little Laena Velaryon, a maiden with fair silver hair and striking brown eyes. Not a Targaryen, and not a man.

So instead, the King had decided to put the blame on the lords of the realm. Every single member of the family knew it, though they did not speak about it. The Great Council, they had begun to call it, the meeting of most of the lords of Westeros that would decide who would inherit the Iron Throne after King Jaehaerys passed. Everyone already knew the outcome. Rhaenys was simply not popular enough among the people or the lords, and her gender was just another obstacle that she would have to climb over.

If there was one thing Aella could not blame her sister for, it was that she had given up entirely about pleasing others. The people, the lords, the ladies, their grandfather, what did it matter when her inheritance was already stripped from her once? So soon after the death of their father, it had been ripped from her arms and given to their uncle. Aella had not cared much for it then, too deep in the ocean that was her grief to care about anything at all. Now, it angered her. It angered her so much she wanted to throw things against the wall. Wanted to burst into the council room and bring her hand down upon her grandfather's face so he may taste her fury. Her father may have been a Targaryen, but her mother had Baratheon blood flowing through her. And the Baratheon words: ours is the fury, rung true for her now. Both sides of her family harboured rage. Dragon fire and storm. It did not seem like either would be quelled.

It would not be quelled, because Aella knew she could not give Rhaenys the support she needed even now, and that tore her heart open. The first time, Aella had been eight. Now, she was eight-and-ten. And she was married to Rhaegon, the brother of Viserys. And she was with child. Rhaegon's child in the eyes of everyone. Daemon's in reality. Some deep part of her was afraid that Rhaegon still knew. That he would find out. She could not fight against him now. Or ever, really.

She hated herself for causing this. Hated both Daemon and Jaehaerys for putting her in a position where she would have to choose. Her sister, or her child. It was like a heavy rock chained to her ankle. And she was being tossed into the sea without any way of freeing herself from the weight.

As she watched the red figure of Meleys glide over the gulf and towards King's Landing, that was more apparent than it ever had been.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

There hadn't been any time to prepare before Rhaenys came barging into Aella's chambers. Her silver hair was pulled into a loose braid, falling over her leather clad shoulder. It was messy, strands pulled from it in the disarray that was flying atop a dragon. The stench of dragon rolled off of her riding clothes. Usually, Aella would find the smell comforting. Now, it did not seem there was any comfort to take from it.

She felt Rhaenys' eyes on her, not much different from two boulders placed on her shoulders. A heavy weight. An urge to get them off. Slowly, Aella stood from the settee she had been anxiously lounging in for the past hour. There was a need to constantly rub her fingers, perhaps even bite the skin around her nails. The small pain could ground her, perhaps. She refrained from tearing into her skin, settling for rubbing her fingers together.

"Rhaenys," she greeted in the calmest voice she could muster. Distantly, she wondered what kind of a world she was living in that she was afraid to speak to her own sister. A year ago it would've been preposterous. A fantasy that she would not believe had someone told her it would happen. They used to be one in the same. Sisters in everything there was. Now, they seemed so incredibly different. Rhaenys with her worn riding clothes and the first wrinkles etched onto her face, hair messy and disgruntled, yet she still stood proud and was not ashamed of anything. Aella had not ridden Karnax in weeks. Not since she had lain with Daemon, and Gods was that not yet another difference between them? Rhaenys would never betray her husband's trust. Aella had done just that. Even if he did not know it yet. She was dishonorable, and she had changed the hardened armor of her girlhood – the riding clothes and the braids – for heavy silk dresses, glittering jewels and hairnets. The perfect image of a Westerosi noblewomen, as Jaehaerys wanted. No longer the Valyrian Princess her father would have desired her to be.

Aella had never wanted to shed her skin as much as she did in that moment.

"Aella," Rhaenys answered with a smile. A genuine one, and that made Aella relax a little. "It is wonderful to see you after so long." It had not been that long. A few weeks at most. Since Baelon's funeral. Rhaenys pushed her braid over her shoulder and Aella watched as it swung slightly behind her back. "How is Aemon? Doing well, I hope?"

Aella breathed a small laugh. "Yes, he is wonderful. Rhaegon has started teaching him Valyrian," she told Rhaenys. She had never seen Aemon be as excited as he was the night Rhaegon told him he could begin to learn. The language of the dragons, he had cried out happily. For the rest of the night, he had planned out all of the things he would say to Karnax and Morghul. And to Syrax, the young dragon Rhaenyra had bonded with. Aemon had no dragon of his own, much to Aella's disappointment. The egg that had been placed in his cradle was nothing more than a mantle piece decoration now.

"That is good. He should start learning as soon as possible." Rhaenys nodded. And then her smile fell, and Aella knew what was coming. The armoured shield she had been crafting since the Great Council had been announced flew up, and she steeled herself for what was to come. For the betrayal she was about to deal to her own sister. "Aella, sister, you must convince Rhaegon to support my claim." Immediately Aella pursed her lips. Rhaenys thought that Aella was on her side. There was knife that was sinking into Aella's heart, spilling all of the blood it pumped into her chest. "He has sway with the lords! Far more than me or Viserys does. Whomever he supports, they'll support."

Aella swallowed thickly. "Rhaenys," she sighed, averting her gaze from Rhaenys as her sister frowned. There was a edge to her own voice that she had not expected. Some form of strength, a sharp edge of a blade. Rhaenys picked up on it faster than Aella even realized it was there. Her face hardened and the air in the room shifted. They both knew now. "The lords will not support you even with Rhaegon on your side. They want a man to rule the realm."

"Viserys is not fit to rule," Rhaenys quickly argued. "He would much rather stay in a country house with his books than to sit on the throne!" Aella nodded. It was true. As much as she loved Viserys, he had not been raised to be the heir. He would never be fit to inherit. But that was not what the lords cared about.

"You could be the perfect ruler in every aspect there is, Rhaenys, but they will still not choose you to inherit," Aella said, disappointment in her tone. She wanted nothing more than for Rhaenys to inherit. Not for the first time that day, she wished to hit her grandfather so hard he couldn't see anymore. "Please, see reason! Even if I asked Rhaegon to support you, he would never go against his own brother!"

Rhaenys let out a laugh, but there was not humour in it. "But you would go against your own sister?" There was a new glint in Rhaenys' eyes. It took a moment for Aella to realize it was tears. "You would rather sit back and allow them to take my throne? Without even trying to secure it with me?"

"I cannot support you against my own husband!" For a moment, Aella could not believe the words that left her mouth. A few years ago, she would've rather chopped off her own hand than allow a man to dictate the course of her life. But then her grandfather had done just that, and she realized she could not stop it even if she wanted to.

"Since when have you toiled in the service of men?" Rhaenys spat. "What have they ever done for you?" Rhaegon had done a lot of things. He had tried to help her when the burden of losing a child became so heavy on her. When her little daughter perished in her arms and she had felt like the Stranger himself had come and lifted her from her embrace. It was Aella that had not done anything for him. Instead she had betrayed him, and then lied to him about it. Staying with him through the nightmares was the least she could've done in their marriage, but she had never asked of the cause of them, afraid he would just shove her away and be done with it. Perhaps she should've asked. Perhaps if she had done so, she could've understood far better, and perhaps they could've healed each other's pain. And then she wouldn't have turned to Daemon for comfort. A comfort that had been fleeting from the moment she had received it. Akin to the blooming of snowdrops or a warm winter day.

"Since I had my son!" Aella answered loudly, teetering on the edge of shouting. "Since I held him in my arms and I understood he is the only thing that matters! Since I lost my daughter and I knew there wasn't a pain such as that in the world. Since the maester's told me I carry another child, and I decided there was nothing I wouldn't do to save it from Daella's fate."

Rhaenys eyes snapped down to Aella's stomach, and she fought hard to not cover it with her hand. As if she had to protect it. As if Rhaenys would hurt it somehow. The room had fallen into a silence, accompanied by the chorus of heavy breaths and crackling flames. The warmth of the hearth seemed like the only comfort then.

"I see," Rhaenys answered, voice as leveled as it always was, almost as if she had not been seething moments before. She straightened her back – Aella hadn't even realized it could get straighter – and lifted her chin. "Congratulations." She nodded to Aella's belly. Before she had the chance to respond, Rhaenys rushed out of the room.

Slowly, Aella lowered herself onto the settee, gripping the velvet cushions until her knuckles turned white.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The night sky was painted the perfect black by the time anyone else came to see her. White light danced across the abyss-like canvas, almost like an artist splattered paint across it. Aella had been watching them twinkle for at least an hour now, unsure of what to do. She didn't want to leave her chambers, she barely had any strength to sit up from the settee or her bed. Rhaegon had not come, either stuck in whatever council meetings he attended or already back at his own chambers. Aemma couldn't come to her either. She was with child as well, though farther along and constantly sick. Usually, it would be Aella who came to her. And the rest of them – Jaehaerys, Viserys and Daemon – she did not expect anything from them.

So when the there was a knock on the door, she had thought she had imagined it. Her head lolled back onto the pillows, changing the direction of her stare for the first time in an hour. Perhaps she should go to sleep, she thought. The maesters would want her to, for the sake of the baby. But then the knock came again, and this time she was sure she hadn't simply been hearing things. Slowly, she pushed herself into a proper sitting position – not the slouched position she had been in before.

"Come in!" she called, expecting a few servants at most. She had no ladies-in-waiting, so it couldn't be anyone else. The door handle shifted as the person on the other side pressed down on it, and then with a small click the door opened. When her eyes landed on the person standing there, she didn't know whether to be excited or worried. "Corlys."

Her brother-in-law grinned at her as he always did and strolled right in. His white dreaded hair was pulled back by a thick leather band, a style he mostly wore when sailing a ship so it wouldn't get in the way. When she was little and her sister had just gotten married, Aella used to play with the dreadlocks. She had rarely seen anything like them before and she had found it fascinating. Corlys had always let her to whatever she wanted.

"Sister," he greeted her back, coming to a stop in front of her. Then he gestured with his hand to the settee placed across from the one Aella was already sitting on. "May I?" She nodded without even thinking twice, but then quickly wondered if that was the right thing to do. There was no doubt he had come here to try and convince her to side with Rhaenys on the matter of the succession. And no matter how much Aella wanted to, she couldn't. After hours of mulling over her decision, she wasn't sure if it was because of her own cowardice or actual bravery in the face of a tough choice. Her sister or her husband? Rhaenys or Rhaegon? With Rhaenys stood her childhood, her niece and nephew and the man who had become a brother to her through everything that mattered. But with Rhaegon stood the woman who she had been forced to become, Viserys, Daemon, Aemma, her dearest friend, and most importantly of all, her son.

"I know why you're here, Corlys," Aella said, back as straight as a pin. She didn't think she could relax even if she wanted to. "I am sorry, but I cannot do what it is you wish." Corlys pursed his lips at that and tilted his head.

"Why?" he asked, and when Aella opened her mouth to speak, he lifted his hand to stop her. "And do not tell me it is because you are with child. It isn't because of Aemon either. Whether Viserys or Rhaenys inherit the throne, he will still be the nephew of the ruling monarch. His position will not change. A year ago, you would've supported Rhaenys through everything." Aella swallowed thickly around the lump that formed in her throat. "So what changed?"

Tears gathered in her eyes before she could stop them. Her hands shook, but she hid them in the volume of her skirts so Corlys couldn't see. Head tilting down, she hoped he could not see the tears either. But he did, and suddenly there was a weight on the cushion of her settee and an arm around her shoulder. Corlys pulled her into his chest, rubbing her back as the floodgates of her repressed emotions broke free.

He did not seem to mind that his doublet was getting soaked in her tears, or that she was gripping his free arm so tightly it must've been painful. "Tell me, what is wrong," he pleaded, but Aella shook her head.

"I cannot," she told him as she pulled away from him. She wrapped her arms around her own chest, hugging herself. It was a way to protect herself, a small barrier between her and danger. Except Corlys wasn't danger, and he never would be. Of that, she was certain. But even with that certainty, she could not tell him. She could not.

Corlys frowned. "Does he hurt you?" he asked loudly, as if he had some sort of epiphany. "Gods, Aella, tell me Rhaegon does not hurt you!" Her entire face scrunched up in a disbelieving frown. Of course Corlys would assume it was Rhaegon's fault. He would never believe she could do any wrong. To him, she was still the innocent little sister of the woman he loved.

"No! Of course not!" she quickly answered with a frantic shake of the head. "Rhaegon would never hurt me. It is... it is me that is the problem." Corlys' frown deepened and he leaned back. There was a look in his eyes, a plea for her to continue, for her to tell him. She could feel her resolve breaking. Simply out of principal, she wanted to tell him. Wanted someone to know, someone to understand. And surely Corlys would.

He had to. His marriage to Rhaenys was one of love, not convenience. Luck had been on his side when King Jaehaerys had agreed to such a match. Aella had not had anything like that. Daemon had been denied when he asked for her hand. For what reason, she did not know. Perhaps Jaehaerys thought he was too brash, too wild and rogue to demand anything of him. So instead, he had betrothed her to Rhaegon.

King Jaehaerys' choice had felt like a dagger to the gut. Like getting cut open from her hips to her sternum and being left to bleed out on the floor. Her grandfather had done that and torn her heart from her chest. Perhaps he had thought his decision was a good one. Perhaps he did not see that the choice he had made had turned her from a blooming wildflower to a wilting rose. Not so beautiful and free anymore.

"Tell me," Corlys said with the softest voice she had ever heard from him. She wanted to shake her head again, but instead she stayed still, staring at him. "Whatever it is, me and Rhaenys can help you!" This time, Aella did shake her head.

"No you can't," she breathed out. "Not with this." Corlys reached forward and grasped her hand. There was that pleading look again, the one that wanted her to to tell him everything. The one that made Aella think she should. Slowly, she felt the chains around her mind unravel, break, shatter. And then the tears were flowing in earnest once more. "The child I am carrying," she started, then stopped as she panted for breath, "it is not Rhaegon's."

Corlys stared at her, unblinking. Waiting for her to break out into laughter and tell him it's a joke, probably. But Aella didn't. Because it was not a joke and it was not a laughing matter. When he realized she was not jesting, he nodded his head. Slowly. Once, then twice. Aella's vision blurred. For a moment, she expected his face to screw up in anger and call her a whore, because that is how she felt.

Instead he simply sighed. "Does Rhaegon know?" he asked, and she shook her head. A choked sob tore its way up her throat. "Who is the father?" She firmly closed her eyes.

"Daemon," she answered, "but you already knew that." Corlys shrugged his shoulders, but they both knew it was true. "I love him, Corlys. I still love him after so many years. It's like a poison that is slowly killing me." More tears ran down her face, hot like boiling water. "I will not lie to you, I have not been well as of late. You have not lost a child, I do not expect you to understand exactly how I feel, nor do I wish this feeling upon you. It is like I have been desolate for months now and I... I wanted to feel loved, even if it was just for a moment."

"Why did you not write to me or Rhaenys? We would have come to you had you asked. Aella shrugged, pulling her legs up onto the settee and her knees to her chest. She just wanted to lay down in a dark corner and rot away.

"I did not want to disturb either of you, and I do not think it would've made a difference either way," she told him. "Daemon was there when my father died and I was left alone in King's Landing. He understands how I am when I grieve. He still loves me too, I think." Aella quickly wiped the tears from her face. "I hadn't ridden Karnax in months until he came to me and made me do it. It had felt so free, and then he had taken me into the city in a peasant's disguise. He had done it when we were younger as well. I had always felt liberated around him."

"And now you are carrying his child," Corlys uttered the words so quietly she barely heard him. Aella nodded, feeling her throat close up again. Corlys gripped her hand tightly, an affirming squeeze. "I will not tell anyone, I promise. Not even Rhaenys." Aella released a shaky breath and nodded, accept another hug as he tugged her forward. "And I will try to make her understand. I am sure she will do so herself soon, regardless."

That was the first time in weeks that Aella had felt a weight be lifted off her chest.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

Rhaegon had heard the stories about Harrenhal, but he did not quiet realise how truly enormous the castle would be. Large, melted pillars of stone reached towards the sky like hands clawing for mercy. Begging for the Gods to save them. Rhaegon imagined it looked much like that as well when the castle was enveloped in the flames of the Black Dread, when the Conqueror burned it down along with its lord still inside of it.

The stone was as black as ink, and Rhaegon had to wonder if it was always like that or if the material was singed so deeply that it remained blackened ever since the burning of the castle. He supposed it mattered little, for the castle was undoubtedly as menacing now as it was a hundred years prior. It was like a dark and foreboding mark in the middle of an otherwise prosperous land.

How Lord Strong could manage such a castle was a mystery to him. The scale of the building was the least of his worries, for many peasants feared to ever enter the castle for fear of the curse that was said to hold a grip on this place. Rhaegon had never been one to believe such mystical things. Curses, witches, prophecies, it all seemed easily interchangeable with bad luck, clever women and an old man's babbling.

Perhaps the only prophecy he had ever believed was that of Daenys the Dreamer, for he had the hindsight and knew that she had been right. Even then, was it not simply possible that the Valyrians were aware of the instability of the volcanic mountains they lived closed to? Most knowledge of Old Valyria had been lost to the Doom, and many had therefore come to the conclusion that it was the wrath of gods that had brought such a mighty civilisation down, punishing them for their greed and violence. But volcanic eruptions were not something that had happened only once. Whenever Rhaegon found the time to read something simply for himself and not for the council, he often delved deep into foreign histories. Old Valyria had sat at the foot of multiple volcanos. It was where the Valyrians hatched their dragons, presumably. In the bubbling magma. And then, also presumably, one exploded. Was it such an outrageous thought that it was not the wrath of any god, but rather nature taking its course? Was it so difficult to believe the Valyrians were aware of the danger their home faced every day, but only one woman had enough sense to actually leave?

Rhaegon could've discussed such theories for hours on end, especially with Viserys. His older brother often poured over texts about Old Valyria, in that they were the same. The difference between them was that Viserys firmly believed that Valyrian magic truly existed and that dreamers were an occurrence in their very own bloodline. Rhaegon would disagree with everything he said, but he would never go as far as to try and force his brother to believe the same things he did. If Viserys wanted to find comfort in magic, dreams and prophecies, Rhaegon would not stop him. It was easy to believe such things when ones life was wrought with tragedies. Rhaegon only wished his mind would work the same. He did not cling to the impossible, rather he was hyper aware of every reality. Pessimism and melancholy were what comforted him, though he was not sure if the feelings they caused could even be called comfort. It was far better than what he felt without them, though, and so he did not try to stop it.

By the time all of the lords were gathered in the great hall of Harrenhal – and Gods, wasn't it truly great, if not a a bit ruined – the sun had set and the area was lighted by the pale moonlight and braziers. Over a thousand lords had ridden to Harrenhal for this council. A thousand lords that would decide the fate of house Targaryen, rather than the actual monarch doing it. His grandfather's actions were smart, yet cowardly all the same.

Rhaegon stood at the foot of the stairs that led to the dais that held not only his grandfather's throne. Viserys and Aemma stood to his right, and to the left Rhaenys and Corlys. This council made him feel sick. Everyone in their family knew that Rhaenys should have inherited. It would have been the will of Prince Aemon, had he lived, and it was cruel to deny a man his wish when he had not way of fighting against it. Fourteen succession claims were heard throughout the entire thing, but only two were considered. Rhaenys and Viserys. The daughter of the King's eldest son, whom should inherit based on the law of primogeniture, or the son of the King's second son, who would inherit based on the tradition of Westerosi male dominated inheritance.

Most noble houses would side with Viserys, that was apparent even before the scroll that held the councils decision was handed to his grandfather. The Baratheons, however, appeared as if they had swallowed poison.

As King Jaehaerys unwound the scroll in his hand, Rhaegon felt his throat tighten. For a moment, he had the urge to reach to his left, where his wife stood by his side. A month ago, he may have grasped her hand during this, a comfort for both of them perhaps. But now, as his eyes flicked over to her barely rounded belly, he could not do that. She clearly did not want his comfort, as she had gone to someone else entirely. He hoped, for the sake of the child, that it would come out looking like him anyway. The Targaryen look or the Baratheon look, that was all the child could afford to have. Aemon's parentage was never questioned, as Lady Jocelyn had held her grandson in her arms plenty of times before the entire court and everyone saw the resemblance. But if the child had anything other than silver or black hair, blue or violet eyes... Rhaegon could not protect it then.

Instead of reaching for Aella's hand, he dug his finger nails into his palms. The dull pain was something to focus on, at least, though it wasn't the comfort he would prefer. But when did he ever get something he preferred?

"It is declared by all the lords paramount and lords vassal of the Seven Kingdoms," Jaehaerys began to read torturously slow, "that Prince Viserys Targaryen be made Prince of Dragonstone." Applause broke out across the great hall. Rhaegon could feel Aella stiffen beside him, could see the very moment Rhaenys' face hardened and her eyes shot straight to her sister. Masked fury burned in her violet eyes, and it took everything in Rhaegon to suppress a flinch at that look.

Instead he looked at his own brother, who was grinning proudly from his place beside Jaehaerys. When their eyes met, Rhaegon offered him a pleasant smile, and Viserys' grin seemed to only widen. He would not be a good king, Rhaegon knew, but he also wouldn't be a terrible one. He himself would make sure of it. Viserys was his brother, and there wasn't anything that Rhaegon wouldn't do for him.

Nothing at all.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

Aella knew it was coming from the moment Rhaenys had looked at her so harshly in the great hall, but she had hoped to avoid it regardless. Rhaenys had quickly found her in one of the halls of Harrenhal, seething and anger oozing from every pore on her body. Rhaegon was at least stood beside her, but she did not know how he could protect her from harsh words and a cruel reality.

"I suppose you are happy?" Rhaenys barked when she was close enough, Corlys quickly trailing after her with worry etched onto his face. "That your own sister was just disinherited? This is what you wanted, was it not?" Aella practically shrunk away from her. She just wanted to close her eyes and disappear.

"I am not happy," she replied with a quiver in her voice. "But I did tell you that the lords would not choose you, Rhaenys. I understand that you are not happy, but this is not my fault!" Rhaenys scoffed and shook her head. Aella saw it on her face then. She believed it was. Her sister believed it was her fault that she had not been chosen. There was a large crack that resonated through her chest as her heart broke further than it already was.

"You did not support me," Rhaenys argued quickly. "Your own blood! What did I ever do to you to deserve you abandoning me?" Aella felt the urge to cry, but she forced her tears back. Successfully this time. She had cried enough. If there was ever a time to stop feeling sorry for herself, it was now. Aella straightened her spine and pushed her shoulders back. When she did not respond to Rhaenys, her sister scoffed once more. "Our father would be ashamed of you."

And Gods, was that not the most painful thing Aella had ever heard. Her mind blanked and her face face, shoulders sagging. For a few long moments, she was no longer inside her body, but rather looking at herself from far away. Distantly, she heard a few outraged shouts. From Corlys, Rhaegon, or both, she did not know. She did not know anything anymore. A hand was suddenly placed on her belly, and she realised only a bit afterwards that it was her own.

Our father would be ashamed of you. He would, wouldn't he? Aella was nothing like the girl he had raised. Perhaps if he had not died that day on Tarth. If that crossbowman had missed by just a few inches and hit his shoulder instead of his throat. Perhaps she would have turned into the woman he would have wanted.

Our father would be ashamed of you. It seemed that Rhaenys had finally realised what she said, and the slightest bit of guilt showed on her face. But Aella did not care for that. Rhaenys had meant it, and it was the truth.

Our father would be ashamed of you. As she cupped the small bump of her belly, she made a final choice. It was far too late to be what she had been meant to be. There were far too many scars, too many wounds to the soul and too many chains around her wrists for it to be possible. Perhaps in another life, but not now. Her skin had turned so easily fro steel, to ivory, to porcelain, and she had not even realised it was happening until that very moment. When it was far too late to change it.

Aella blinked slowly before she spoke. "I suppose you're right." And then she was walking away, the train of her black and scarlet gown dragging across the floor behind her. Her steps echoed through the large cavernous corridors of Harrenhal, far more akin to a ghost's dancing than anything else.

Author's Note

This chapter has almost 7k words Jesus Christ. I really hope I am able to portray everything I want with this book (mainly how the Westerosi society affects women, especially those who don't have the power to choose i.e people like Aemma, Alicent and in this book Aella as well. Also generational trauma in the form of Rhaegon because he's carrying a lot of his father's and grandfather's trauma and problems).

Corlys when Aella tells him she slept with Daemon and is now pregnant with his baby:

Next chapter the Hightowers will arrive at court!