You're everywhere
except right here
and it hurts

-Rupi Kaur

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102 AC

Otto Hightower was a peculiar man. Inteligent, cunning, sophisticated, but peculiar. Rhaegon could never quite put his finger on it, but it was there. Somewhere beneath the layers of rich clothing, the serene facade, there was something that shook Rhaegon to his very core. It was not that he found the man dangerous, but the way he watched Rhaegon with calculating hooded eyes and a half-smile on his face, Rhaegon had never felt like someone could take him apart with just a look before.

It must be because he replaced his father, Rhaegon often thought, staring at the pin on the man's doublet. The metal of the Hand's pin seemed almost dull now compared to the time his father had worn it. With great pride, but only for five days. Five days, it used to make Rhaegon's stomach turn. Now it was nothing more than a dull ache, even though the reality that his father was dead still stung just as vividly as before. Some days, he would turn his head over his shoulder with a smile, ready to tell his father of something he had found in one of the many books he had poured through that day, or perhaps something Aemon had done, only to realise that his father wasn't there, and he couldn't tell him anything anymore.

Rhaegon had only had one parent in his life, and now he had none.

It was another typical council meeting, and once again Rhaegon felt Otto's eyes on him constantly. He had just returned from Dragonstone, where he had spent the last few months of Aella's pregnancy with her, away from the harsh realities of court. It was his first time sitting in on a council meeting since he had returned two days prior. For now, they were waiting for the meeting to begin, sitting in almost awkward silence.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes, King Jaehaerys entered the council room and made his way straight to the seat at the head of the table. His beard had grown even longer than it was before, Rhaegon noticed, now down to his waist. He had to wonder how he functioned with so much hair on his face. Rhaegon hated it when his beard got too long, or his hair as it curled whenever it got just a bit too long. The twisting of the silvery strands was just another thing that reminded him that he wasn't like everyone else in his family, as all the other Targaryens he had ever met had the pin-straight hair. When his grandfather nodded at the council to begin, Lord Beesbury leaned forward slightly in his chair.

"May I be the first to congratulate the Prince on the birth of his daughter!" The old man grinned, and Rhaegon gave him a pleasant, well-trained smile. It wasn't his daughter, but that did not matter the slightest bit. In the eyes of the entire realm, the girl that Aella had birthed was his. A child with the whitest silvery hair he had ever seen and bright lilac eyes, the exact shade that Daemon's eyes had. Whenever he looked at the babe, he swore she was the exact image of his older brother. Surely he must've been seeing things, as most babies all looked the same, but it was there. He wished he had never noticed the resemblance.

"Thank you, my lord," Rhaegon answered with a small nod. He had to pretend to be happy, though he doubted he could ever put on a show that perfectly resembled the happiness he had felt when Aemon was born. The birth of Daella had been overshadowed by the knowledge that she probably would not live, and in the end she didn't, so he supposed the dread had been the perfect preparation for that. When it actually happened, and Daella did in fact pass into the arms of the Gods, he realised that there was never a way to truly prepare himself for that.

Just like he couldn't prepare himself for the sinking feeling in his gut every time he held his 'daughter' in his arms. "The celebration for Princess Visenys' birth will take place in a few weeks, when the Princess Aella had fully recovered from her labours," Lord Penrose informed Rhaegon, with Lord Beesbury happily nodding along. "Many knights have been invited to for the tourney, and lords from all over the realm are coming to the celebratory feast." Rhaegon didn't know why a tourney was being held in the honour of a newborn babe who could not even understand what was happened, but he knew he could not argue against it. Jaehaerys was not one to back away from any plan, and what did it matter when the royal family had enough funds to hold a hundred tourneys in quick succession? It would barely put a dent in their coffers, and it was a way to lift the spirits of not only the nobles, but also the commoners.

"I have received word from my grandson. Prince Daemon will be returning from the Vale in a few days. He desires to participate in the tourney," King Jaehaerys said from his end of the table. "I do hope your cousin is prepared to face him, Otto." The Hand chuckled, looking down at the table for a moment.

"Yes, Lorent is as prepared as he is ever going to be," he answered. "He will be arriving in a few days time as well. My wife, daughter and son will be with him." He turned to look at Rhaegon again, and it took everything in him to not shudder at the action. It was so simple, but the look in his eyes was as condescending as ever, even if his next words held nothing similar to it. "I hear the Princess Aella had no ladies-in-waiting, my Prince. If I may, my wife would be happy to join your wife's service."

Rhaegon blinked slowly. "That is my wife's decision, my Lord Hand," he replied after a few moments. "But I will suggest it to her when I see her next." The half-smile Otto gave him in return told him that it was exactly what the man wanted.

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"But why can't I play with her?" Aemon stuck his bottom lip out in a pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. Aella couldn't help but chuckle at his question, carefully balancing Visenys is one arm so she could ruffle his hair with the other. "I can play with Rhaenyra! So why can I not play with my sister."

"Because, Aemon," Aella sighed, "she is a baby and can't play with you yet." Aemon stuck his lip out even more, adding scrunched eyebrows into the mix. "Frowning and complaining will not change anything!" Aemon let out a groan, but finally acquiesced. He climbed up into the chair beside Aella and slumped into it. They had had this conversation before as well, but it seemed her son was not one to listen to reason. "Are you not excited to spend more time with Rhaenyra again?"

Aemon stared off into he ground for a moment, then nodded. "I guess so," he answered, scrambling up in his chair so he could lean over the armrests and look at Visenys again. "Father says she has a new friend now though." Aella frowned, and then laughed, earning yet another pout from Aemon.

"He did not say that," she shook her head. "He said that the Hand's daughter, Lady Alicent, would become her companion. That does not mean Rhaenyra cannot be your friend anymore. You can befriend Lady Alicent as well, and then all three of you can play together." Aemon did not seem convinced, and Aella sighed. "Your Aunt Aemma is my friend, and I too will have a new companion soon. Lady Alicent's mother, is to become my lady-in-waiting. But your aunt is still my friend, despite this, is she not?" Aemon nodded. "And it is the same with Rhaenyra and you. Now go! Rhaenyra must be waiting for you."

At this, Aemon all but threw himself off of the chair and sprinted out of the room. Aella was left in a silence. Finally, she thought, relaxing into the chair. The slight movement of the bundle in her arms calmed her even further. Visenys' birth had been a quick and easy one, but even then Aella could not sometimes wonder if there wasn't something wrong with her. Some nights, she woke up drenched in sweat and in a fright, and she would rush into the nursery to make sure that Visenys was still alive and breathing. Every single time she was, and every single time Rhaegon had to lead her back to bed and nurture her back into a calm state so she may rest again. Just as she had done to him when he had nightmares.

Aella had to wonder sometimes if the awkwardness between them was her own imagination, or if it was truly there. To some extent, it had to be, of that there was no doubt. But she swore that Rhaegon could not meet her eye anymore, and each time that realisation dawned on her, fear gripped her heart with hold clammy hands. He knows, he knows, he knows, her mind screamed at her. But then Rhaegon would pick up Visenys and shush her when she cried, and surely he would not do that if he knew. What man would happily accept a child that was born from his wife's infidelity? Despite all of Rhaegon's virtues, she did not doubt that even he would not be capable of that.

Looking down at the squirming and sleeping babe in her arms, Aella could not help but smile. She truly did look exactly like Daemon. When she had first noticed the resemblance, she feared that others would too. Instead, she was told that she had Rhaegon's nose and her chin. No, she didn't, she wanted to tell them, but was quick to stop herself from ever admitting that. The only person that knew was Corlys, and he was on Driftmark with a scorned Rhaenys and had not one to visit her since the Great Council. Daemon had not either, Aella thought bitterly, and she had to wonder if he even realised that the child she had given birth to was his. In fairness, she had not told him, and she doubted he knew that she and Rhaegon were not laying together, but surely there had to be some doubt.

But no, he had not come to visit her or even written to her about any concern. About anything, really. He had simply left her again. Aella wished she could say she was surprised, for she had expected it in the back of her mind. That did not mean in did not sting to think about. Daemon had left just as easily as when he had been denied her hand in marriage. Only a day after Prince Baelon's funeral, he had taken flight on Caraxes and she had not seen him since. To the Vale, that was where he had gone. To his wife, and that thought made Aella want to throw something at his head if she ever saw him again. And she would, she knew that. He was to be here tomorrow, or the day after that depending on the weather.

For the tourney, she told herself, not for you or your daughter. Because that was who Daemon was. There had never been a time where he had not taken what he wanted and accepted responsibility for it. She doubted he even realised how much he hurt her when he did not speak to her again after he bed her. Truly, there was not a more agonising blow to her heart than that. Because it told her everything she needed to know. Just a body, that was what she was to him. A body he could fuck whenever he pleased because he used sweet words and soft caresses. The worst part was, Aella would probably fall for it again.

There was a knock on the door and a servant entered, poking her head in through the small crack. "The Lady Hightower is here, your Highness," she girl said, and Aella nodded. With a quick gesture of her hand, the servant girl opened the door further and stepped out of the way. Aella quickly straightened her back as the Hightower woman entered. Lady Ceryse Hightower was the very picture of beauty, with curves that were accentuated just right by her tight bodice and wide skirt and skin the colour of porcelain. It was unmarred, no wrinkles in sight even with her age nearing thirty. Rhaenys had gotten her first wrinkles shortly after her seven-and-twentieth birthday, and had taken it with stride. Lady Ceryse's hair was the colour of umber laced with gold. She curtsied perfectly.

"Lady Ceryse," Aella greeted her with a kind smile, though she doubted the woman needed her kindness. They were almost ten years apart in age, and Aella did not know how to act in front of her. Most of her life, she had been used to accepting anyone who was her senior as her superior, but that did not apply now that she was of age and married. In everything, Lady Ceryse was beneath her, and yet she let out an air of superiority. And she was willingly becoming Aella subordinate. Though, doing so would make her superior to most other ladies at court. Only four noblewomen at court held the title of lady-in-waiting, all of whom served Aemma.

Both Jaehaerys and Rhaegon had wanted her to take ladies far earlier, but Aella did not think any woman wanted to be burdened by her grief. It was better now, healed ever so slightly with the birth of her new child. Of course, Visenys would never be able to replace Daella, but she was just as loved as her first daughter had been.

Lady Ceryse seemed to know exactly how much influence she was going to get from this position, judging from the look of pride on her face. Lady Redwyne, Lady Lannister, Lady Swann and Lady Tarth, those were the only women in the realm – excluding the current Targaryen princesses – that were as powerful as she. With Queen Alyssane in the grave, the only royal women of age were Aella and Aemma. Until Viserys ascended the throne and the ladies of Aemma would become the queen's ladies, and not the princesses, Lady Ceryse would have just as much influence as them. Especially as the only lady of Aella.

"I welcome you to my service." Lady Ceryse's eyes sparkled in the most beautiful, yet terrifying way.

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The tourney had been a grand affair, but Aella had only attended the first half. Her reasons were her own, but what she told the King and the council was that she was still yet to recover from her labours, and would prefer to rest before the celebratory feast that night. They had all believed her, because who wouldn't? If she noticed a flash of silver hair and a black, all too familiar steed as a new knight entered the jousting field, she did not bother to watch.

It was all far too overbearing at times. The loud crowd cheering as the knights broke lances against each other's armour and shields, the violent crack as the wood broke, the unsettling thud as the men landed hard onto the ground when they were unhorsed. Aella could watch it most times, but not when she knew that Daemon would be there. No, she would not give him the satisfaction of watching him and cheering for him – as would be expected of her as the member of his own family –, or even allowing him the dignity of her presence.

She could've run then, but now, when the feast was in full swing and she had to be in attendance, that was not a possibility. The musicians played their instruments, the nobles danced and others feasted upon the rich foods that were presented before the court. Many a lord gathered around her and Rhaegon, congratulated them on the birth of their daughter. Aella had to wonder if the gleaming smile her husband presented was truly genuine, but if she allowed herself to doubt, she knew she would only be terrified for the rest of the evening. It was genuine, because Visenys was Rhaegon's daughter in his mind.

It was about two hours into the feast when she couldn't take being in the crowded room anymore. From the high table, she had spotted silver hair and an arrogant smirk far too many times for comfort, and the chattering of the noblewomen and overbearing looks from their husband's felt almost suffocating. Quickly, as if there was no problem at all, she excused herself. Some of the ladies looked disappointed, but it was not as if they could stop her.

Blending into the crowd was difficult on a normal day, but now when her gown was as extravagant as ever – scarlet and ebony fabric pooling around her in fast amounts, rubies and dragon glass pinned to her bodice and sprinkled over her skirts – it was even worse. Still, she managed to slip away for but a moment, when she knew that most eyes had left her. There was a door on the side of the great hall that led to a hallway, a quick escape for the royal family if danger ever emerged. Aella had taken that corridor many times, enjoying the large, arched windows separated by thin – but highly decorated – pillars. Silk hung from the top of them, a small mimic of curtains. During the day, those windows looked out across the bay, and Aella could stand their for hours just inhaling the salt in the air.

She supposed she could do it now as well, though she could barely see the water now. Visenys had been born during a new moon, and only about two weeks had passed since then. There was no vast amount of moonlight to illuminate the serene waters of the bay. The air still smelled the same though, if not a little colder. That was to be expected, she supposed, and enjoyed the feeling of her lungs expanding as she slowly inhaled the salt-tinged air.

"There you are." Aella's entire body jerked. "I thought I would never get you alone." She slowly leaned forward, gripping the balustrade in front of her and focusing on the reddish stone it was made of. Then, she inhaled once more, before turning around and pressing her back to the balustrade. Daemon stood not far from her, leaning onto the wall on the other side of the hall. How he had approached so quietly, she didn't know, but it did not matter anyway. She wouldn't have been able to run.

When she did not say anything, Daemon took three quick strides forward, and before she could even properly react, his hands gripped her jaw. All too suddenly, he was kissing her. With the same passion he had used on the night they had lain together, he pressed his body to hers. Aella's mind went blank, and she stood in his embrace as stiff as a plank. Daemon seemed to quickly realise this, stepping away from her as if she had burned him.

His brows pulled together in a frown. "What is wrong?" he asked, and it was all Aella could do to not scoff at him. What was wrong. Many things were wrong. It just seemed that he did not care much. He had left, after all, right after taking what he wanted from her.

"You left, that is what is wrong," she scoffed, shifting her weight between her feet with uncertainty. "Once again you simply left. You did not even speak to me once before you climbed onto the back of my father's dragon and flew off to the Vale." Aella glared at him with all her might, praying that her mere stare alone could make him disappear from her presence. "You left me to deal with everything alone."

Daemon's frown deepened. "What would you have to deal with?" he asked, and it was in that very moment that the words left his lips that something sparked in his eyes. Realisation, sorrow, anger, a mix of all three and much, much more. Aella watched as Daemon calculated everything in his head, saw the exact moment that he came to the conclusion she knew was true. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out. It was the first time she saw him speechless. Then his face hardened. "You cannot know that she is mine."

Aella laughed before she could stop herself. "There is no one else's that she could be, Daemon," she argued. "I did not lay with Rhaegon during that time. Not once." This time it was Daemon's turn to laugh, though it was far more mocking than her's ever was. The humour fell from him just as quickly as it had overcome him.

"Rhaegon is not a fool," Daemon all but hissed. "I will not stand here and listen to you say that he is. We have both done him a disservice, but even I would never presume my brother was so ignorant." Aella supposed that Daemon had a point, and he had a right to think that, but it did not deter her from her anger in the slightest. Her feet moved on her own accord as she stepped forward.

"I thank each and every one of the Seven that Rhaegon does think that Visenys is his!" she cried, her voice ringing through the hall loudly. "Do you think she would be getting this celebration if he knew what she truly was? Do you not understand how lucky I and she are that you got him so drunk he couldn't remember the entire night? If Rhaegon had even the slightest inkling that I had been unfaithful to him, he would tell our grandfather immediately. What do you think he would do with an unwanted bastard?"

"Do not call her that," Daemon cut her off, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let us say that I believe you and that Visenys truly is mine, why did you not simply write to me? I would have come back to you the moment I read the words!" A scoff fell from his lips. "You cannot blame all of this on me!"

"Perhaps," Aella replied instantly, "but I still will, because it was you that did not speak to me. You were in King's Landing for weeks after you bedded me and still you did not say a word, nor did you come to me again after that! How was I to know that you would answer my call?" At that, Daemon scoffed once more and turned away. For a moment, she thought he would leave again, but instead, she was forced to watch as he paced up and down the hall endlessly, mind running rampant with thoughts only the Gods knew.

They had fallen into such a deep silence that even the skidding of his feet against the ground seemed wrong and out of place. It was in that very silence that Aella realised what she had just done. She had done the very thing she had sworn to herself she wouldn't do. She had told him, admitted it to him. And he did not even believe her. Or perhaps he did, but one never knew with Daemon. One never knew, and that was what made her so angry and sad all the time. Was it too difficult to ask for a constant in her life?

Rhaegon, something in her mind whispered, he is always there, he is always the same. And she knew that voice was right. Daemon was as wild as a storm, a snake so violent that any sane person would try to either kill it or run the moment they saw it. Compared to him, Rhaegon was the perfect image of calmness. A reprieve from all that was wrong in the world. Because he was not wrong. He was simply there, and that was all Aella could ever ask for. Daemon ran the moment he had the option to, but Rhaegon chose to stay.

And so when Daemon asked that one damming question: "Is she really mine?" It hurt her beyond words to admit it. Because in that very moment, she wished that Visenys truly was Rhaegon's, just so she would not have to live with the fear. So she would not have to live with herself and her lies, and sos he would never have to wonder when the other shoe would drop. When he would find out, when Daemon would snap and tell him, when she would be marked for the very thing she saw herself as. A liar, a whore, the very embodiment of sin.

"Yes she is." As the words left her mouth, it felt like fire on her tongue. In her throat, in her belly. burning her from the inside out. Aella had never seen Daemon cry. Not once in their entire life, and yet now as her admission registered in his mind, his eyes turned glassy. They were not true tears, no, Daemon would never allow that, but it was the vulnerability he had so often showed her before everything had happened, when they were just children who wanted a friend. His knees met the stone hard in front of her and his forehead dropped forward until it rested on her belly. On the very place she had housed Visenys not too long ago.

She could feel the heaviness of his shuddering breath even through the fabric of her gown. The uncertainty of each exhale. Despite herself, she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. Long, just as she had told him she liked it. His body shuddering as her nails scraped gently over his scalp, the only comfort she could offer at that moment.

And then, she slid her hand down and cupped his jaw. With the smallest amount of pressure, she forced him to look up. "Daemon," she uttered, "you have to leave." And in that moment she saw everything in him shatter. The lilac dimmed to a much more common violet and his entire faced twitched as he didn't know what to say in return. Slowly, she bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, a last goodbye. "We will be alright."

And they would, they would be alright. That was what Aella had to believe. It was the only thing she could believe. And she hoped that Daemon believed it too.