Hold me,
like the night
holds the moon
in it's arms

– Alexandra Vasiliu

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The moment the council meeting ended, Rhaegon was the first out of the room. He was far too angered by Viserys' continued dismissal to wait around and make polite discussion with the other lords, especially not Otto Hightower, who seemed to be only feeding Viserys' need to ignore all things of importance. Rhaegon could only grit his teeth and dig his nails into his palms. He could not for the life of him understand why Viserys was being like this. The threat of Myrish pirates had been a topic of discussion since before their father died – though of course Viserys had not attended the meetings then – and the had been a problem that Corlys had managed to quell by himself for quite some time. But the Triarchy? Not even Corlys' fleet could stop them if he was doing it alone.

His anger and his thoughts blocked him from realising where he was going as well as any understanding of time, so he may have been wondering the halls of the Keep for minutes or for hours. Eventually, he was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of swords clashing together. He was close to the training yard, he realised, and decided that he would go and see if his son was there. It was where Aemon spent most of his afternoons as of late.

When he made it outside and leant against the balustrade of the walkway above the courtyard, Aemon was in the middle of a sparring match. One of the Kingsguard, Ser Steffon Darklyn, stood outside the circle that made up the sparring ring, arms folded over his chest as he called out instructions and corrections.

Aemon was stood facing off with a boy whose hair was the colour of fire, bright and eye-catching when surrounded by the rather dull colours of the training yard. Rhaegon knew that the boy was Brynden Blackwood, his son's companion. The boy was only a year and half younger than Aemon and the two of them had clicked easily when the Blackwoods had visited the Red Keep some three years ago. Brynden was the heir of Raventree Hall, and so his father had not been difficult to convince when Rhaegon asked for the boy to stay at court. Aemon had practically begged him to convince the lord, as Brynden was perhaps the only friend he had ever made.

With a swift step forward, Aemon lunged with his training sword towards Brynden, who side-stepped and parried easily. The boys were evenly matched. They trained together almost daily and knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. That much was obvious when Brynden deliberately swung towards Aemon's unguarded left, to which Aemon responded with a harsh kick to the other boy's knee – which he had injured a few month prior when he fell off his horse.

"Watch you feet!" Ser Steffon shouted. Even from his spot above the training yard, Rhaegon could see Aemon grimace with annoyance. He could not help but remember fondly to his own youth, when his own father would shout the same sentence to him and Daemon when the two of them trained. It was foot too easy to mess up one's footing in the middle of a fight, and it had to be beaten out of Rhaegon by Daemon's blunt training sword many times until it finally became a second sense.

In the end, it was Aemon that won when he knocked Brynden to the ground and kicked his sword away. It always ended like that, as Brynden was still rather short compared to Aemon – not yet having had this growth spurt – and Aemon often used his training as a way to let out his pent up anger. At least he found some outlet, Rhaegon sighed inwardly. At least he had not become like Daemon, too angered all the time and taking it out on many others around him. Rhaegon remembered all too well the cruelty Daemon served everyone in their family when he was Rhaegon's age. Everyone except Aella and their grandmother, perhaps. Luckily, he had grown out of that as he matured, and was no longer plainly mean, but rather sarcastic and painfully arrogant.

As Aemon and Bryden were putting away their training sword, Rhaegon waved down at them, signalling with his hand for Aemon to join him. His son bade his friend goodbye quickly and bounded up the stairs towards him.

"How was training?" Rhaegon asked, despite having watched a lot of it. Ser Steffon was a good teacher, if not a little passive. Daemon had once taught the boy, but now that he was named Lord Commander of the City Watch, he did not have much time to focus on them. It would have bothered Rhaegon had he not known that the City Watch was a disastrous group of men who did not known what they were doing. Most of them had been picked up off the streets and had swords and spears shoved into their hands without proper training and many were corrupt. Rhaegon had been aware of the bribes being taken for a while, and had encouraged the council and especially his brother to do something about it many times. Just as he did with the Stepstones however, Viserys had plainly ignored him.

When he finally named Daemon the Commander of the City Watch, it had not been the King, but his younger brother who had stepped up and sided with Rhaegon. After gaining the funds from Lord Beesbury, he set out to right the organisation. Now he was doing just that, spending most of his time with his men.

"It was good," Aemond answered him, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with sleeve of his white shirt. His doublet was long gone, probably tossed to the side for the servants to find. Rhaegon nodded, studying his son's face. He constantly looked rather solemn, never showing what he felt. It was a little troubling when he showed such an appearance before him, his father, but Rhaegon supposed it was only natural that he would eventually grow to show only coldness and distance when he grew up at court. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked despite that reality. Perhaps if he asked, his son would allow him into his mind. Rhaegon did not want for Aemon to grow up like he did. With the feeling that he could not tell anyone what he needed, what he desired and on the contrary what pained him. He did not want for Aemon to grit his teeth and take it, to grow bitter and accepting of not getting what he deserved.

"I am fine," he said, though it was not very convincing. Thankfully, he cracked when Rhaegon raised a brow. "It is nothing, really! Vis was just making comments about me not having a dragon again. I am used to it." Rhaegon sighed, shaking his head. He knew that his eldest daughter did not truly understand how much pain she caused Aemon with those comments, but he thought he had spoken to her enough times for her to understand that she needed to stop.

Rhaegon put a hand on Aemon's shoulder and squeezed. "Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts. You will have a dragon one day. I, nor your mother or uncles or aunt hatched a dragon in the cradle. We all claimed them later in life. I know you will as well." Aemon did not seem very convinced, but nodded. Rhaegon knew it was difficult for his son, especially when his sister and cousin both had dragons. Aemon's own egg still decorated the mantlepiece above the hearth in Aella's sitting room, and his son often gazed at it longingly when he thought no one would notice. Rhaegon would have to find a way to get rid of it, though he doubted it would sooth the pain his son felt.

There were not hatchlings for him to claim, and the giving of a dragon egg was a custom for babes, as Viserys had said. It was just another reason that Rhaegon had grown distant from his brother. If it had been his own child, Viserys would not hesitate to give them another egg. Perhaps he would have given one to Aemon too, had his jealousy of the love that Rhaegon received from the common people and even most of the nobles not clouded his judgement all those years ago. That jealousy had faded with time, but he had stood his ground on the matter of the egg, if only to not appear weak in front of his council members. And so Aemon had been left to try and claim grown dragons, and none that he had tried had accepted him. Eventually, his son had given up, and even when Rhaegon offered to take him to Dragonstone so he may try some of the dragons that nested on the Dragonmont, he refused.

He just hoped that his son's plight would be ended soon.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

By the time it was time for supper, Rhaegon's annoyance and anger had only festered. He sat at the table – still empty with only him sitting at it – with his chin rested in his palm and his eyes trained on the wood of the table. He trailed the patterns of the smooth surface repeatedly, as if that would calm his nerve.

"You are angry," a voice carried through the room melodically. He looked up towards the door, forcing a smile on his face when he saw it was Aella standing there. She was dressed in a gown of silver and violet, waistline raised to just above her belly to create room for the growing bump. He stood and offered her his arm, which she accepted gladly. The squeeze of her fingers on his forearm was a small comfort, but one he took gladly. When Aella was comfortably sat, she looked up at him. "Tell me what is wrong."

Rhaegon sighed, lowering himself into the same seat he had been in before. He put his face in his hands and inhaled slowly before he pulled them away again. Aella had heard his complaints many times before, so he was sure that she already knew what this was about. Still, it was nice to have at least someone who bothered to ask him. The Gods knew nobody else would.

"Viserys is once again ignoring Corlys' advice," he told her, biting the inside of his cheek as anger flared inside his belly again. He would have to convince Daemon to spar with him tomorrow so he could burn it out of himself.

Aella tilted her head. "But that is not all, is it?"

No, of course it isn't. Aella always say right through him. Whether it was a skill she had always had or if she had picked it up along the way throughout the years of their marriage, he did not know. He was just glad she had it. 

"I advised him to listen to Corlys, and he ignored me as well," he began, feeling the frustration build up tightly in his chest. It was like a vice around his heart, his lungs, his ribs, squeezing him until he wanted to hit something, preferably with his fist and preferably in the training yard where he could do so without question. "Why am I even on the council? I sit there every day for hours on end listening to him plan tourneys and feasts so he can grow fat and turn into a drunkard, and when someone actually bothers to inform him about serious matters he ignores them! Ignores me! I am his brother and he himself decided to put me on his council, but it seems I am there just for show."

Aella reached over the table and grasped his hand in her own. She squeezed it and ran her thumb over the top of his hand, over his knuckles, over the tendons that flexed beneath his skin. Her lips were pursed and her blue eyes saddened.

"I am sorry," she said, as if it was her fault that his brother acted in such a way. There was silence between them for a few minutes, until finally Aella inhaled and spoke again. "Perhaps... we could go to Dragonstone after the babe is born. We both spent a few years of our life there and I would like our children to as well. It is their ancestral home and it is far away from court."

Rhaegon stared at their interlocked hands for a few minutes, thinking. It would probably be for the best, he had to admit. It had been years since Rhaegon had felt welcome at court. The Red Keep was poison to all minds, and he was saddened to confess that it had reached into his as well. He was sure Daemon would not mind, he rarely spent time in the fortress that was technically his as the Prince of Dragonstone. He might even be happy to get rid of him too, knowing him. Daemon loved to make a competition out of everything in life, and even if he did not say it outright, the two of them had competed for Viserys' attention many times. In the end, it had left them both estranged from their eldest brother and the two of them knitted tighter than they had ever been. Still, Daemon would take any sort of victory.

"Yes," Rhaegon agreed, "we could."

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

Visenys was – as usual – the last to arrive for supper. Aella raised a small chastising brow at her, but she only smiled and planted on kiss on her cheek before sitting down next to her. The food was served shortly after. Perfectly seasoned roasted venison with baked vegetables and bowls of sugared fruit. 

It tasted heavenly, as it always did. The flavour burst inside of Aella's mouth with every bite, bringing her taste buds to life. She would have to give her thanks to the palace cooks again. They truly did not get enough credit. The night was rather late and the warm summer air filtered into the room through the opened windows, casting a pleasant sort of ambience throughout the room. Aella watched with a pleased smile as Visenys, Aemon and Rhaegon engaged in their usual chatter and ran a hand over her bulging belly, feeling the baby in her kick.

Soon enough, the door opened and Daemon strutted in, continuing with the tradition of eating with them at least once a week. Visenys' eyes lit up when they landed on him, the lilac colour of them sparkling like a thousand amethysts. Daemon's long silver hair was a mess and his face was covered in sweat. Aella's heart clenched in sudden fear.

"What happened to you?" Rhaegon asked with a quick raise of his brow. Even Daemon's clothing seemed messy, as if he had dressed in haste. Aella quickly looked away. Disheveled hair, sweaty, unkept clothing. She had seen him like that, once. And she knew what sort of act preceded such an appearance. Well aware of the fact that she had no right to be jealous, she forced the bitter feeling down with a gulp of mint-flavoured water.

Daemon chuckled at his brother's straight forward question. "I was with the men of the City Watch. The streets needed to be cleaned up before the nobles start arriving in the city for the heir's tournament." Relief flooded through her, making her close her eyes with a sigh. He hadn't bedded anyone, then. It was ridiculous how much of a hold he still had on her, though he had not approached any romantic or even lustful subject with her ever since that fateful night when she had lost her child. Everything had been formal, if not a little friendly since then. She could tell it hurt him just as it did her, and perhaps it was a small recompense that she did not suffer those feeling alone.

"Have you eaten, uncle?" Visenys butted in before the discussion of about the City Watch could go any further. She shifted in her seat, kneeling down in the chair so she could lean forward on her hands excitedly. She would undoubtedly bombard him with questions about his time in the city later. 

"I have not," Daemon answered, reaching over the table and plucking a sugared grape off of her plate before tossing it into his mouth. For a moment, Visenys looked offended that he touched her food, but then she grinned. The closeness the two of them shared might have scared Aella once, but she had quickly grown used it. It no longer made her heart stop or her eyes widen or her muscles freeze. It just was. Daemon and Visenys, uncle and niece, father and daughter. In the end, she was glad that they shared such a close relationship, even if Visenys could never know her true relation to Daemon.

Aella watched as Daemon sat down and piled food onto the plate already prepared for him. Visenys leaned towards him, and just as Aella had expected, spewed as many questions in quick succession as she could. Daemon answered them all happily, a familiar sparkle of mirth in his eyes.

And throughout it all, Aella could only smile.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

A council meeting had been called early the next morning, dragging Rhaegon out of bed long before his mind and body were ready. He dressed as quickly as he could, tamed the curling ends of his hair – he would have to cut it soon, he realised with distaste – and left his chambers to go to the meeting. On his way there, he ran into Otto and Viserys, the two already discussing the very reason why the meeting was called.

Rhaegon listed on as Otto rambled about Daemon's impunity for rounding up the criminals in the city and punishing them. He had to bite back multiple disbelieving barks of laugher. An unprecedented round up of criminals, Otto called it. It was an accurate enough label, Rhaegon supposed. From the things Daemon had told him the night before, when the children and Aella had all gone to sleep and only the two of them remained. Despite Daemon not having the agreement of the King to exact such punishments – amputations and death sentences – Rhaegon could not say he was angered by it.

The rate of criminal activity had risen exceedingly in the past decade, and it was not like Viserys cared to act against it. Rhaegon entered the council chamber quickly, walking directly to his seat  and only pausing shortly to greet the other members of the council.

Daemon had clearly decided to make a show out of everything, as he was still in his armour – he had gone back out into the city after supper to help his men – and had not attempted to wipe away the speckles of blood that spread over his pale skin. His lilac eyes narrowed at the sight of Otto, but his usual cocky grin remained in place.

"Go on, you were saying something about my impunity." Daemon held Otto's gaze, not backing down even for a moment. Rhaegon sat down in his seat, placing his moonstone council stone into its place. Otto, to his credit, rarely yielded to Daemon. The man could withstand the harsh burning eyes of the Rogue Prince better than anyone else Rhaegon had ever known. Once, he had thought that made him a good Hand, but recently – whether it be Rhaegon's own annoyance at any and all things council related or growing truth that nothing was being done about any problems that rose up in the realm – he had found himself discretely wishing the man lost his position somehow. 

Perhaps it was his own ambition, as Rhaegon had always dreamt of being his brother's Hand one day. Perhaps it was the anger that he had not been chosen for the position despite being Viserys' brother and the only three of Prince Baelon's sons that had studied the ins and outs of diplomacy and ways of ruling a country. Rhaegon had never quite allowed himself to truly be angry. Not like Daemon often was, or how even young Rhaenyra grimaced visibly whenever her father did something to ruin her mood. Instead he squished those feelings beneath his thumb like he would a bug. Despite not believing in his younger self's thoughts as often as he once did, there was always a voice in the back of his head that told him he had no right to be angry, no right to protest.

You killed Viserys' mother. The words would echo in his head for hours whenever he felt any spike of anger or jealousy. His mind would simply not allow him to feel, not allow him to admit to himself that the woman he had killed during his birth was also his mother and he had lost just as much as Viserys and Daemon had that day. Because it was his fault, and he had to atone in some way.

"You are to explain your doings with the City Watch," Otto spoke surprisingly calmly, considering how irritated he had sounded mere moments before. As he and Viserys sat down, Rhaegon allowed his eyes to meet Daemon's. He barely managed to hide his half-smile. 

"Your new gold cloaks made quite the impression last night, didn't they?" Viserys stated, clearly trying to remain neutral in the situation for now. Still, Rhaegon would not be surprised if by the end of the council meeting, he would be entirely on Otto's side. Somehow it always ended up that way.

"The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at you whim," Otto argued against Daemon almost instantly. His brother had barely even gotten to utter a word. Rhaegon wanted to scoff, but for the sake of decent respect he kept it to himself. "They're an extension of the Crown!"

"The City Watch was enforcing the Crown's laws," Daemon said, as if there was nothing to be worried about. Knowing him he probably was not worried in the slightest. Daemon's eyes met Rhaegon's again over the table. "Wouldn't you agree, Rhaegon?" This time, Rhaegon did not even try to hide his smile.

"Oh, certainly," he answered, leaning back in his chair. "The Crown did, after all, pay enormous sums of money for you to arm and train them. It is only right they use those arms to protect the city, as it is clearly in need of it." Otto's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The movement was barely noticeable, but Rhaegon had always been good at catching everything. He raised a brow at Otto. "Or do you not think so, Lord Hand? Would you rather the capital of the realm be a pit of criminals waiting around every corner?"

"Making a spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws," Otto rebuked, making sure to stare down both Rhaegon and Daemon now. Rhaegon might have considered the man a friend once, but Otto had long tried to cut him out of any dealings of the council. That began when Rhaegon's opinions on matters stopped correlating with his own, of course. 

"Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending upon King's Landing for my brother's tourney," Daemon's said, "do you want them mugged, raped, murdered? You mightn't know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people."

"I agree," Viserys said, though there was a clear hidden meaning inscribed in his words. A meaning he was quick to say out loud for all the council to hear. "I just hope you don't have to maim half my city to achieve this."

"If you had not let it get so far out of hand, brother, Daemon would not need to resort to such extremes," Rhaegon rebuked, making the eyes of every man in the room turn to him. Perhaps his tone of voice was a bit too annoyed to be considered respectful enough while talking to the King, but Rhaegon could hardly care. There was not much that Viserys could do to punish him. Rhaegon held no titles or lands or extreme riches. He did not need a large allowance to live and even if Viserys did cut him off entirely, Rhaegon had made plenty of friends among the nobles and the merchants and business owners in King's Landing that he did not have to worry at all. "Or must I remind you of the past decade where you have let every criminal run rampant across the city with no punishment what so ever?

"Must I remind you that your own daughter travels through the city often? Your daughter Alicent, Lord Hand, is with her almost every time. My children are too. It is only a matter of time before criminals who have been allowed to do as they please grow bold enough to attack even the royal family. Our dragons will not stop them from doing so. They know you would never burn the whole city to the ground and it is easy to disappear when one lives in Fleabottom. It would not be the first time a member of the court was attacked in the streets if it truly came down to it."

Silence enveloped the room. Rhaegon could hear his heartbeat raging in his eardrums. His fingers – as always toying with the moonstone sphere – were shaking, but he hid it well. He controlled his breathing, making sure it was calm and collected. It had been a while since he had spoken out so vividly. He had long gave up on his voice being heard, and so he only spoke out to support other members of the council when he agreed with them. It was much the same now, him speaking up to support his brother, but there was something that burned in the pit of his stomach. An urge to finally be heard, to be accepted as a member of the council even if he held no other position other than advisor.

"We installed Prince Daemon to promote law and order," Corlys was the first to break the silence. Rhaegon felt himself relax. It was not every day that him and Corlys agreed on things, but lately it seemed that they were on the same side. Good, he thought, there has been too much conflict between our two families. Whether it be Rhaenys and Aella or Viserys and Corlys, there had been many days when the anger between the two sides of the family would boil past a certain point. A point of no return. It had calmed much in the past few years. As old wounds healed and only became long forgotten scars, the emotions faded with them. "The criminal element should fear the City Watch."

"Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys," Daemon voiced Rhaegon's thoughts. It seemed much too difficult to find support amongst the council members as of late. While most of the members – especially those that had held their positions for a long time – respected Rhaegon, whether that be for his discipline and intellect or simply for his royal blood alone, no one wanted to go against the King.

"If only the Prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace," Otto interrupted the short show of friendliness. Rhaegon had to fight to not role his eyes. If Otto could not argue against the actual problem, he would simply speak out about another one. "You've not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone for quite some time."

"I think my Bronze Bitch is happier for my absence." Rhaegon grimaced slightly at the nickname his brother had given to his wife. He did not have to like Rhea Royce, the Gods knew that Rhaegon and Aella had not loved each other and still did not love each other in the ways a married couple should, but that did not mean he did not have to show her some respect.

"Lady Rhea is your wife, brother," he said with a chastising tone, though not too harsh that Daemon would be offended. "You should not speak of her in such a manner. She is a good and honourable lady of the Vale."

"In the Vale men are said to fuck sheep instead of women." Daemon rolled his eyes. Rhaegon raised his brows at the crudeness of the words, but could not help the soft wave of amusement that rippled through him. "I can assure you, Rhaegon, the sheep are prettier." A barely noticeable smirk made its way onto Rhaegon's face. He had never been to the Vale in his entire life and had to wonder, if only for a short moment, if what Daemon said was true.

"You made a vow before the Seven to honour your wife in marriage," Otto argued almost instantly. He seemed overly annoyed at Daemon's words. One might have even thought it was personal if they did not know of the long standing rivalry between Otto and Daemon. When it started or how, Rhaegon could not entirely be sure.

"Well, I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you're in want of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently." Otto abruptly stood from his seat, the chair scraping loudly across the floor. That had been a low blow. Daemon looked up at Otto almost innocently. "Did she not?" The Hand did not say anything, simply glared down at Daemon as if he could set him on fire with his gaze alone. "Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet."

"You know how my brother makes sport of provoking you." Viserys attempted to calm Otto down. Rhaegon knew that if Daemon's comment had been aimed at him personally, especially mere months after his wife had died, that he would most likely pummel him into the ground. It would be a perfect picture of his fist against his face, Daemon's blood on his fingers, on the floor, running out of his nose like a bloody current. Just like when Daemon had hit him all those years back when they were still young and Rhaegon had been betrothed to Aella. "Must you indulge him?"

Otto slowly lowered himself into his seat. If there was one thing Rhaegon had to commend him for, it was his ability to reel in his own emotion. Rhaegon had become good at that over the years too, but there were times when he bottled it all up too much and then it exploded like wildfire from within him. Otto's outbursts were always short-lived and far in between, and he collected himself remarkably fast.

"My apologies, Your Grace."

"This council has, at great expense, bettered the City Watch to your exacting standards." Viserys turned his attention to Daemon. "Enforce my laws, but understand... any further performances like last night's will be answered."

There was a long moment where no one said anything. Daemon smirked and then nodded. "Understood, Your Grace." And then he stood up, his golden cloak swinging from his shoulder and his sword Dark Sister gripped tightly in his hand. It was not until after the door closed that anyone said anything.

"King's Landing has been in decline since my grandmother passed," Viserys said, and Rhaegon could not help but recollect his grandmother's golden hair and beautiful blue eyes. She always smiled so gently at him, from what he could remember of her. " In the end... this new City Watch might be a good thing."

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The night before the tournament, Aella could not find sleep. The babe inside of her twisted and turned and kicked. Her own mind would not settled, though there was nothing specific that she was thinking of. 

She ended up slipping out of her bed and into her sitting room where she lit a candle and opened up a book, hoping to take her mind off of things. Even then, she could not focus on the ink-written words on the paper and just simply stared. It was late, but still she could hear the city below the Red Keep bustling with life.

There were many nobles that had arrived for the tournament and every establishment in King's Landing jumped at the opportunity to squeeze as much money out of them as they could. The best wines had been pulled from the cellars, the best whores dressed in the best wanton clothing, and the best performers went out into the best areas of the city to show their skill.

She half wished she was not so heavily pregnant so she might go and see it for herself, like she did when she was younger. There was no one to escort her though, as she had always gone with Daemon and he had had a sword at his belt and a hand firmly held in her own. It was him that had always found the passages out into the city and the disguises and him who had chosen where they would go.

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned him, a familiar click came from the wall to her right. The wall shifted and the stone moved forward like a door, and Daemon's form stepped inside of the room. His eyes widened when they fell on her. He had been expecting her to already be asleep. She smiled at him, though she really should have asked him what he was doing there.

The last time he had come to her like this, he had taken her flying and then out into the city. And then they had lain together. Aella's skin flared at the thought. It had been so long since she had touched him like that. How was it possible that she still felt so drawn to him after so many years? Truly, it must have been some spell. 

Daemon walked towards her and dropped himself down onto the settee she was sitting on. He took the book from her hand, carefully closed it and set it aside. And then he leaned forward. For a moment she panicked and thought he was going to kiss her and they would repeat their same mistake again. But he didn't he just wrapped an arm around her belly, another around her back and pulled her to his chest. He lowered his head into the crook between her neck and shoulders and sighed. She heard him inhale slowly and then shiver.

"What is wrong?" she whispered, her own hands dropping down to the one on her belly. She turned it around and placed her palm in his, then intertwined their fingers. The only time he was ever like this was when something had upset  or angered him. She inhaled deeply and curled her nose. "You reek of wine."

"I know," he said lifting his head up from her shoulder and resting his chin on top of her head instead. "I just needed to hold you." She raised a brow, though he could not see it. In the years since Visenys was born, he had not once come to her like this or in any other way. Friendliness was the only thing they could afford and he respected her wishes to not be with him as his lover.

"Why?" she asked and snuggled into his chest, deciding she would indulge him just for this one night. Deep down, she knew it would not be just one night. It never was with them. Him coming to her now was proof of that. Even after years, he craved her and she craved him.

"I don't know," he admitted and shrugged. Then he sighed again. "I was never upset like this before when Aemma was close to giving birth." Oh, Aella thought as she suddenly understood. She shifted in Daemon's arms so she could look at him. Their faces were inches apart and she could feel his warm breath on her face.

"Viserys cannot replace you," she told him, caressing his jaw softly. Her mind screamed at her to stop, that this could never end well, but everything else in her urged her to continue. "Even if Aemma births a boy, you are Viserys' brother. He would be a fool to get rid of you in any way." 

Daemon let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "All he ever does is try to send me away." He tilted his head into her touch. "He does the same to Rhaegon. We mean nothing to him."

Aella shook her head. "That is not true and you know it," she argued. "Viserys is a fool at times, yes. And he is pushing you and Rhaegon away, but he still loves you. You are his brothers, his closest blood other than Rhaenyra. He would do anything for you." Daemon did not answer her this time. He only stared at her and breathed in long and shallow breaths. The only source of light was the candle she had lit earlier and the orange glow it cast on his face was made him look heavenly.

She ran her second hand through his long hair, felt the softness of it and hummed. He had grown it back for her, she knew. After his marriage to Rhea Royce, he had cut it in protest because his new wife liked it. Aella could not blame her. Daemon looked amazing with it and it made something in her flutter as if she was a naive teenage girl experiencing her first crush on some highborn knight. It was because of those feelings that she had wanted him to grow it out again and he had. Aella bit the inside of her cheek.

Daemon turned his head and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. The touch was like lighting striking through her. How did he have such power over her? She wanted to give herself away to him completely.

"Rest, Aella," he told her as he untangled himself from her. The swift end to their contact suddenly made her feel cold. Daemon's hand remained in contact with her belly for a few moments and he stared down at it. After that he said, "You will need it." And then his hands were completely gone from her body and he was moving back to the secret passage behind the wall.

Watching him go was almost painful, but Aella still smiled at him and nodded. When the wall clicked close behind him, she was left alone once more.

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The stands were bustling with more nobles than Aemon had ever seen in his life. Their cheering was deafening, their bright and rich clothes as blinding as the son. A large grin was plastered on his face as he watched it all from his seat in the royal stand, Visenys seated beside him and as restlessly excited as him. Perhaps even more.

Her usually free hair had been pulled into an intricate style of braids twisted at the back of her head into something like a crown. A typical hairstyle in the Crownlands and the Reach, with strings of black pearls and red rubies woven into it. It was a wonder she had not ruined it yet with the amount of times she had whipped her head around to look at someone or something.

The day was hot and Aemon was becoming exceedingly more happy that his clothing was made of light material, though the dark colours of it still drew the sun's attention and he was practically boiling. Luckily for him, there were enough refreshments to feed and water three large villages. He took a deep sip from his goblet and looked up when he noticed movement not too far above him.

His uncle stood up from his chair, golden crown of Jaehaerys gleamed atop his silver hair. He lifted a hand and silenced the cheering crowd. Then he spread his arms and smiled brightly, his eyes glistening with mirth.

"Welcome! I know many of you have travelled long leagues to be at these games, but I promise you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories," his exclaimed loudly for all to hear. As he continued talking, Rhaenyra carefully made her way down the stairs of the royal stand and towards her seat right of him and left of Alicent. He grinned at her, knowing she was just as excited about the games as he was. "And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share. Queen Aemma has begun her labours!"

The stands burst into applause and Aemon dutifully joined them, sending a comforting smile in Rhaenyra's direction. He knew that she was nervous for her mother and he could not blame her. He had heard his own mother's screams when she was birthing Viserra and had been haunted by them for a while. It was strange to think that such torment was undergone multiple times by many women. Aemon could not even imagine the pain, as his mother had always seemed to have a high pain tolerance for everything else. 

His mother wasn't at the games now, much to his disappointment. She was with Queen Aemma, helping her through the birth. Aemon supposed it was a good thing that the his aunt had someone to be there with her. She and his mother had been the closest of friends for as long as he could remember.

"Is Uncle Daemon riding today?" Visenys asked brightly as she clapped her hands with the crowd, watching as the first two knights took their place on the opposite side of the tourney field. Their lances raised high above their heads and their shield held tightly at their side. And then they were off, nudging their horses into a gallop. When they met in the middle and one of them was sent flying off of his horse in a loud crash and crack, Aemon saw Visenys suppress a flinch.

"Yes, he is," he told her. She looked down at the knight who was struggling to stand up after the force of the hit he endured and frowned. Aemon took her hand in his and smiled at her softly. "Don't worry, our uncle is the best at this." That seemed to settle her a little bit and she nodded, beginning to look excited again.

The knight that won the match rode up to the royal stand and bowed appropriately. His shield held a sigil that Aemon had never seen before. Instantly his interest was peaked. He leaned forward, hoping to get a better look on at the sigil, but the knight was already riding away.

"A mystery knight?" he voiced his thoughts out loud. Rhaenyra giggled, as if she was wondering the same thing. Alicent leaned forward as well, looking at the back of the retreating knight with her brows furrowed in slight concentration.

"No, a Cole of the Stormlands?" she wondered, earning a shrug from Aemon. He had never heard of a house like that, but if he was being honest he rarely remembered the lower-born houses of any region of the realm. His father would no doubt chastise him for that and claim it was important to know all of the houses at least a little bit.

Aemon twisted around in his seat, looking up at his father who was seated directly behind him. His father's eyes were trained on the crowd before him, but when he noticed Aemon's abrupt movement, the indigo irises snapped down to him. He raised a brow slightly in question, smiling softly down at him.

"Have you ever heard of House Cole, father?" Aemon asked. His father almost immediately nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but then a loud voice broke through the air. Aemon turned to look down at the knight that had spoken up from the tourney field. A Baratheon knight, his black stag sigil evident on his shield. He called up to Aemon's aunt, Rhaenys, and asked for her favour. Aemon's eyes widened as he named her the 'Queen Who Never Was'. It was a rather popular nickname for his aunt, but he had never thought someone would have the gall to say it in front of his uncle, the King. Luckily for the Baratheon knight, Viserys only smiled in amusement.

Rhaenys walked down to the railing overlooking the field with her favour in hand, dropping it down onto the Baratheon knights lance. She wished her cousin good luck, and the man responded with something arrogant before riding off again. Aemon would role his eyes if he did not know such haughty behaviour was practically a trait of House Baratheon, one he sometimes exhibited himself without even noticing.

"Isn't Brynden riding in the tournament today?" Visenys asked him, leaning towards him so she did not have to shout too much to be heard over the roaring of the crowd. Aemon nodded, grinning at the thought of watching his closest friend in the tourney. Brynden was remarkably talented on a horse and had been wanting to participate in a tourney for as long as Aemon had known him. The moment he turned fourteen, he signed up for one when he gained his knighthood. "Do you think he will ask for my favour?"

Aemon's head turned abruptly to look at his sister. "Why would you want him to ask for your favour?" he asked with a raised brow. Visenys smirked up at him, her lilac eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Because he is handsome, brother, I would not expect you to understand," she answered. Aemon could only gape at her for a few moments before he shook his head. He half thought about plotting Brynden's murder, but he knew it was not his fault that he had caught his sister's eye. Visenys was young and despite her entirely boyish attitude, she was as easy to charm as other young girls. And she was not wrong, Brynden was handsome. His tall and muscular stature – which was surprising for his age – only made him more appealing and his bright red hair and dazzling green eyes tied it all off.

"Brynden is not good for you, little sister," he told her, his tone only a little bit teasing. "I'm afraid he likes to look at the ladies of the court a little too much." Visenys' smirk only widened and she leaned back in her chair.

"Well, soon enough he will only be looking at me." Aemon scoffed loudly. His sister was only ten and yet she managed to talk so crudely at times. Brynden was four years older than her and while that admittedly was not the worst age gap he had seen in the married couples at court, he did not enjoy the idea of his little sister being with his best friend. It was absurd in his mind and the likelihood of anything actually happening was next to none, but the thought still made him purse his lips slightly.

The Cole knight and the Baratheon knight charged at each other, clashing in the middle. Visenys gasped beside Aemon as the Baratheon knight was sent flying far more brutally than the first knight that had been unhorsed, crashing into the ground with a loud and painful thud.

This time, a large array of knights rode onto the field, lining up on one side of it in a neat row. Aemon smiled when he noticed Bryden's Blackwood sigil painted on his shield and clapped loudly, though he doubted his friend could hear him from so far away. The announcer stepped forward and called out to the crowd that Prince Daemon would choose his first opponent. A moment later, Aemon's uncle burst through the field on his nightmarish black horse. He rode up to the line of knights, looking each and every one of them in the face.

Aemon hoped he would not choose Brynden, as his uncle was known to be fairly cruel and harsh in tourneys and would not change that behaviour even towards the youngest of opponents. His uncle rode up and down the line twice before he settled on a knight. He pointed his lance at a man covered from head to toe in Hightower sigils.

"For his first opponent Prince Daemon chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower from Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King!" the announcer shouted and the two men took their places at their respective sides of the field. Visenys' grin seemed to split her face in half as she watched Daemon prepare himself, his black-scalled armour rippling as he moved. His helm was eye catching with two dragon wings coming out from each side of the helm.

Daemon and Ser Gwayne bade their horses forward into a gallop. When they met in the middle, it was Daemon that was struck. Aemon heard Visenys' breath hitch as their uncle was forced backwards, but he held himself in the saddle. Visenys gripped Aemond's hand tightly, not letting go of him. Aemon would be lying if he said the scene did not make him worry. He knew the sport was dangerous and often ended with someone dead or injured for life. 

The second time the two knights came around, Daemon twisted in the saddle and used his lanced to trip Ser Gwayne's horse. Aemon's brows shot up and he looked around, wondering if anyone else was baffled by the move. It would be seen as dishonourable by any good knight. Aemon noticed his father frowning, but he did not do anything else. He grimaced and turned back to the field, watching as Ser Gwayne struggled to stand up from the admittedly painful and hard tumble he had taken.

Daemon rode up to the royal stand and Rhaenyra immediately stood up and walked to the railing. Alicent followed after her, her face twisted in a grimace. She looked towards the direction where her brother had disappeared to for a moment.

Shock rippled through Aemon when Daemon asked for Alicent's favour, and he had to fight to keep it from showing too plainly on his face. Surely that was a bit cruel. He had just unhorsed her brother and Ser Gwayne very well could have died in the fall he had taken. Alicent did not argue though, and simply went to pick up her favour to give to Daemon.

Aemon barely noticed the King leaving, because it was finally Brynden's turn to ride. He grinned brightly as his friend unhorsed his opponent swiftly, earning a roar of cheers from the crowd. Brynden rode up to the stand, bowed in his saddle and took of his helm, his bright red hair shining in the sunlight.

"Princess Visenys!" he called, and Aemon simply could not believe his eyes as his friend tilted his lance forward to the railing. "You would do me the greatest honour if you bestowed your favour upon me this day!" Visenys threw Aemon a look that said 'I told you so' before she stood up with a bright grin and picked up her favour.

She walked over to the railing and slid it down Brynden's lance, smiling down at him with the most charming smile she could muster. "I wish you the greatest fortune, Ser!" Brynden's grin was wider than Aemon had ever seen on his friends face.

"I thank you, Princess!" And then he was riding off again. Visenys sat down with a giggle – the sound so similar to that of a gossiping young lady of the court – and turned around to say something to their father. Aemon squinted his eyes in Brynden's direction, wondering how much of a beating he could take. Brynden, as if sensing his eyes on him, turned his head over his shoulders and smirked teasingly at him. The bastard had done it on purpose, Aemond realised. Unbelievable, he thought.

The rest of the tourney had turned rather unappealing, as many of the matches had ended with actual bloodshed and death. Aemon supposed it was a good thing that Brynden got unhorsed relatively soon and took his loss with grace, for he could of ended up like one of the other knights. With an axe in his face, a mace smashed to his skull or a sword stabbed in his throat.

Finally it came to the last match. Daemon was to ride against the Cole knight, but Aemon could scarcely find himself caring. The tourney had gone on for much to long in his opinion, but then again he had never liked such events. He watched with barely concentrating eyes as Daemon and the Cole knight rode against each other, neither falling for a long time until finally Daemon crashed onto the ground. 

His uncle, of course, could not let that be, and so he challenged the Cole knight to a duel just as many of the other knights who had lost their matches did. Much to Aemon's surprise, the Cole knight had won the duel. His uncle was a remarkable swordsman and it was not every day he was beaten in such a way.

Upon his victory, the Cole knight walked towards the royal stand. Rhaenyra once again stood up to go look over the railing. The man took his helmet off, his dark disheveled hair and even darker eyes showing off his visible Dornish features.

Aemon did not pay attention to what occurred then, because there was something happening in the stand behind him. He turned around to see Otto Hightower leaning over the chairs of each council member and whispering something into their ear with a grim look on his face. His father had noticed it too, and when Otto reached his chair and muttered the words to him too, Aemon felt his heart stop in his chest.

Never in his life had he seen such horror, pain, and dread on his father's face. His father looked up at Otto, eyes glazed over as if he would cry any moment. He was asking for confirmation with just that one look, and Otto gave it with a solemn nod of his head. His father covered his mouth with his hand and stared off for a second. Then he pushed himself up and walked briskly out of the stand.

Aemon watched him leave, his breathing suddenly laboured as he thought of the hundreds of different things that could be happening.

Something was terribly wrong.

Author's Note

I haven't update this book in a month and a half I AM SO SORRY. Hopefully this 9k word chapter will make up for it a little. This is barely edited so I apologise for any mistakes, but the chapter is so long that I probably missed some things.