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With a silent prayer to whatever gods would listen, she opened the door slightly, the image in front of her as grim as she could have imagined. Hurried steps took the workers from one end of the corridor to the other, eyes darting in all directions as an attempt to erase the visual from their minds. The corpse of a child weighed down every one of their actions, memory sticking to them like tree resin, entrapping them in the still setting of chaos.

Her eyes met a rouge stain, eyes shining with the unshed tears that formed. How could a small body leave such a wicked stain in the once pristine sheets he would rest on? She swallowed the bile forming at the base of her throat, avoiding the added distress it would cause.

“Is that?” A silent nod from the maid who handled the blood-stained sheets almost made Alaenys’ knees buckle. Her mind strained at the effort to tie the pieces together, to take the puzzle pieces and organise them to see the bigger picture. But as the bitter taste of acrimony on her mouth made her grip on the handle tighten, she could only reach one conclusion. The Blacks had responded to the death of young Lucerys with the death of an infant Jaehaerys. What justice was this?

Once the maid had reached the end of the dim hallway, Alaenys quickly closed the door, back resting on the sturdy material as her gaze fell on her sister. Let her sleep, allow her to escape the crumbling present everyone tried so hard not to make a normality.

Alaenys let herself slide down the metal, eyes closed shut to block out the constant noise. Within the darkness, time seemed secondary, only when a maid knocked on the door and broke her momentary peace did she realise the sun had come up.

“What is it?” Alaenys sat up, every aching muscle in her body painfully obvious in the act.

“The Dowager Queen has requested the Queen’s presence, my princess” A muffled voice came from the outside, probably a guard tasked with delivering the order. “She has made it imperative for you to understand the importance of her attendance in the chambers”

Refraining from a scoff, Alaenys woke Helaena gently, carefully avoiding the sleeping child to become aware of the sudden need to leave the comfort of sleep. As the princess worded ‘mother’ to the Queen with a roll of her eyes to ease the tension, she noticed the exhaustion present on her sister’s features.

“Only the Queen, my princess” The guard extended his arm, keeping Alaenys’ feet from moving any further as the two girls were leaving the chambers. Helaena looked back at her sister, the sudden lack of support now obvious to her. Sending her sister a confident nod and a tender look, Alaenys took a step back and met the guard’s gaze with a reluctant smile.

“This way, Your Grace,” He signalled forward into the candlelit corridors.

With a heavy sigh, Alaenys watched Helaena step away. She wished her eyes hadn’t caught the scar forming on her neck, most likely courtesy of the blade used by the killer. Once again, she felt her heart tug at the inability to use her sharpened skills to keep Helaena and Jaehaerys safe.

When revisiting her memories of the night before, Alaenys’ mind shifted to the figure she had been quick to blame in her hazy thoughts. The metal-wearing puppet her mother had now designed as a vessel for her desires and sins had been indulging instead of attending to his duties. In a silent prayer, she hoped he was drowning in guilt that very second, regret filling his lungs as he apologised over and over to the gods. The princess’s fingers tingled at the twisted thoughts, turning back and closing the door to meet Jaehera’s eyes.

“Where is Mama going?” The innocent voice almost made her crumble, a reassuring smile immediately painting her face into a calm look. She was thankful the young girl couldn’t read into the distressed look behind her eyes.

“She will be back as soon as she can, love.” In an attempt to bridge the distance between them, Alaenys walked towards the tired figure as the girl lazily rubbed her eyes with her closed fists.

“Where is Jae?” The question felt like lightning had struck Alaenys, turning her body frigid with shock. How could she answer a 4-year-old regarding the death of her twin? Despite the young age, Alaenys wouldn’t have taken the news lightly were she in the girl’s position and Helaena had been pronounced dead.

“He is away from all the noise and chaos now” Her hand gently caressed the girl’s cheek, thumb brushing her cheekbones as it rested momentarily on the side of her face. In a silent understanding from a girl far too young to need to comprehend matters as dire, a gentle nod made Alaenys’ hand shift simultaneously. “Now, I must find your father, sweet girl”

She offered Jaehera a water-filled cup, placing a soothing kiss on her forehead as she took it. As her lips touched the soft skin, her eyes forced close, trapping the threatening tear. She refused to let the liquid stain her cheeks.

After finding a maid to keep an eye on Jaehera, Alaenys headed towards the king’s chambers. Her shoes clicked on the stone floor with every step, and the simple attire she had let the assigned maid dress her in flowed. The black silks contrasted with the silver locks she had tidied in an elaborate braid to keep her hands busy when sleep escaped her grasp.

The corridors had quietened down since that night, the added amount of guards stationed on every corner the only testimony of the event. As she turned a corner, her steps faltered.

No.

The thick air around her mocked her, never properly filling her lungs as her breath quickened. Her feet seemed to grow a life of their own as they rushed to the room.

No.

A slight veil of dust blurred her vision as she walked into the chambers, but even the distorted visuals in front of her were easy to decipher. Shattered pieces of what used to be a grandiose model of Old Valyria were scattered around the room.

With a swift turn, she hurried to the guard at the entrance of the room. Alaenys’ hands clenched into fists momentarily as she channelled some of her ire into her extremities, attempting to stop herself from taking Aegarax and offering Aegon for breakfast.

“Where is he?”

“My princess, the King does not wish to engage-”

“Where the fuck is he?!” Her hands reached up to the hard metal, pushing with an unrestrained force as the guard’s back crashed into the stone pillar on the side of the door. Metal against stone sent a shudder throughout the corridors, bystanders letting out a silent gasp at the unbridled action and quickening their pace to walk past. If Alaenys could care about anything but the guard’s answer in that very moment, her actions being considered as unladylike would stand at the very bottom of the list.

“I do not know, I am sorry, my princess” Alaenys felt the guard’s chest heaving under her hold, his pinched brows and wide eyes as he shook his head the final evidence of his ignorance towards the answer.

“Useless, as if I needed any more proof of the Kingsguard’s inability,” She scoffed under her breath, hands releasing the crossed metal strands crossing in a diagonal pattern. When she took two steps back and her eyes met the cracked remains, she felt her hands shake, feet absent-mindedly taking her to the sole remainder of a parent without a thirst for pointing out every mistake. She did not feel the areas of the skin on her fingers break over the white jagged edges as she placed her hands on the table.

“Out! Everyone out!” Alaenys dismissed the maids who were charged with tidying the mess left by the mourning father, an enraged tantrum chipping away at yet another piece of the peaceful reign Viserys had left behind.

This time, when her knees weakened, she let herself fall, and when tears brimmed her eyes, she let them spill. In the comforts of the chambers belonging to the parent who had supported her and showed her that the past was as important as the future, she let herself break like the model under her fingertips.

There was no denying the rage he had caused her on certain occasions when he had unjustly favoured Rhaenyra’s side of the family, yet the care he had shown towards Alaenys as he told her stories of Old Valyria and its customs had shone a light on her darkest nights.

The familiar clicks from a pair of shoes in the corridor made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, muscles tensing in response to the sound.

“Where is the Queen?” Alicent asked, the muffled voice barely seeping into the closed room.

“I believe she was last seen in the nursery, Your Grace” The corner of Alaenys’ lip quirked at the use of the royal title despite the passed-on role to her daughter before digesting the words. Who had allowed her to enter the room where the blood-stained sheets came from? It would only bring horrid memories to the already affected woman.

Bracing herself on the sturdy wood, she stood up, the material pooling around her straitened up alongside her legs. Alaenys made sure to take every step carefully, making sure her mother had begun her course towards the nursery before following the route. She may have missed the former discussion, but in a moment of such vulnerability, she wished to stay close to Helaena to prevent any ill-willed intentions from taking the situation as an advantage.

As she watched her mother walk in, she leaned on the pillar at the entrance, ready to pounce and stand in front of Helaena should their mother say anything out of line. Her eyes met Helaena’s turned figure with a heavy gaze filled with sorrow. The woman held Jaehaerys’ clothes tightly, almost to her mouth and nose, and her hair was dishevelled.

“There’s to be a funeral for Jaehaerys; we’ve been asked to ride on a wagon behind his body,” Alicent’s message made Alaenys’ grasp on the stone tighten. Who had organised this tragic affair?

Carefully, Alicent walked closer to Helaena, it reminded Alaenys of the hunting festivities she had been forced to attend when she was younger. She remembered how the experienced hunters’ steps turned silent as they approached the distressed prey, mindful not to spook them even further and as a result, their target scurry away.

“I don’t want to.” Helaena’s troubled plea came quickly, her face turned away from the woman she spoke to. Before mustering the words, her eyes had scanned the entire room as if looking for the answer.

“Neither do I, but when a thing like this happens… a blow to the king is a blow to the realm. When the people share our grief, they draw closer to us.” Her words seemed so… political, so calculated. An attempt to persuade Helaena into agreeing, although in reality, she held no power to make a choice

Helaena walked a few steps further before turning on her heels to look at Alicent and answer, “I don’t want them closer, I don’t know them.”

“Sometimes, we have to pretend.”

“Why?” The desperate tone formed a knot in the base of Alaenys’ throat. She knew why the council had decided to paint them as the obvious victims, but the price came at a higher cost than she expected.

“We are representatives of the throne. We have a duty.” Alaenys’ eyebrows knitted at the tone her mother’s voice held, it seemed practised, as if she had repeated it in the confines of her mind time and time again towards herself. Helaena took a deep breath, almost constricted as she stretched her body and coiled it back up, a look of disturbance on her face. “Helaena, what you saw last night when you came to my room–”

“This is for my boy.” Handing Alicent the robes for Jaehaerys, Helaena interrupted Alicent, turning around almost instantly.

The Queen took a few steps forward towards one of the small tables she had and took in her hands a small sculpture of an elephant that Jaehaerys used to play with.

“Has your torment not sufficed for the day? You call her to your chambers and then engage in another conversation, demanding a theatrical show from a grieving mother” Alaenys’ voice carried throughout the room as she walked down the steps, Alicent turning to look at her with a familiar look on her face. The aggravation at her daughter’s words was evident, but Alaenys couldn’t care less.

“What do suffice are your unnecessary attacks towards your mother, Alaenys, this is a duty we must comply with”

“Then let me accompany her, I will cry enough tears to fill the Narrow Sea in your pity parade if I can go with her. Let the townspeople’s hearts break as they see the weeping mother and reassuring sister”

“The Council has refused any modifications be made to the original plan Helaena and I will take part in, it is final”

“And what will Aegon do? Will the King not grace them all with his presence?” Alaenys mocked the tone the official speakers took when announcing him, feigning an innocent smile.

“He is not in a fit state to be shown to the public”

“Yet he is seen as fit to rule,” She muttered to herself, missing how Alicent’s brow arched in protest when she turned to look at her sister.

“Alaenys, about what you saw last night-”

“Helaena might overlook your actions in an attempt to forget that night, but I promise you will not gain my forgiveness in such a swift manner. They have cost far too much.” She walked towards Helaena, her eyes noticing how she held the toy Jaehaerys had been playing with only the day before. “Call for the maids to bring the necessary preparations to my chambers for Helaena. I will help her get ready for the funeral”

She did not spare another look towards her mother, simply staying by Helaena’s side until the late Queen left the room and spoke to a maid by the entrance. Alaenys knew her mother detested how she didn’t simply comply, and although she had attempted to extinguish the fire burning within her, its cinders always found a way to remain lit inside her heart.

Back in her candlelit room, the princess had helped her sister change into her appropriate clothes for the ceremony. Her hands stayed gentle as she took the dark veil and draped it over her face, obscuring her Valyrian features and drowning her in a solemnity she knew the townspeople would search for.

Alaenys felt Helaena’s hand reaching for hers, eyes sinking deep into her own as pain flickered alongside the shadows the candles cast on her features. Squeezing her sister’s hand twice in reassurance, she let her forehead rest on the one before her, a silent anchor for the grief-stricken woman.

“You will be okay, sister. I am sorry I cannot sit at your side” The words left Alaenys’ lips in a whisper before catching the stray tear that fell along her cheek and had landed on them.

“I know, thank you for your efforts,” As Helaena nodded through the tender contact, Alaenys’ head bobbed before her. The princess’s ears did not miss how her voice faltered; she was not only thanking her for the attempt to be at her side on the ride, but for having stayed when the Stranger had taken young Jaehaerys.

Watching the gentle rocking from the carriage shifting both her mother and her sister, she stayed at the doors of the Red Keep. Moments before they closed, Alaenys shared one last look with her sister and took whatever courage she could muster to send a reassuring nod.

That night, Alaenys sneaked through the hidden door in her room, making use of one of Maegor’s many tunnels he had carved into the depths of the Keep. Her mind was immediately at ease as the familiar ashy scent filled her nose. When she brushed shoulders with one of the dragonkeepers, they did not send her back to her room with huffs or tell the Kingsguard of her unexpected presence in the Dragon Pit. She knew if the Kingsguard asked, they would answer with the assurance that she was safe, perhaps even safer as she slept in the presence of her dragon rather than the sheets on her bed.

As the sun rose and shifted through the clear skies, the day blurred in a discordant hue of actions. Only did her mind break away from the constant noise when Alicent sent a guard to bring her to her chambers. She needed to speak to her daughter, or so she had reasoned.

Alaenys stood in her mother’s chambers, jaw clenched as she stared at one of the many candle flames that illuminated the room. Anything but looking into her mother’s eyes while she chastised her seemed like a reasonable idea, suddenly, a loud noise brought her attention to the fuming woman.

She stood behind a wooden table, the engravings her hands laid on giving the dark piece of furniture a refined look. But the former queen’s actions were anything but regal and ladylike. She had slammed her hands on the table to get her daughter’s attention. Had she done it years back when she was younger, the girl would have jumped in fright at the sudden action, but now she just blinked and looked back into her eyes with a hardened look.

Even though Alaenys had been born from Alicent’s womb, her mother felt a wall of unfamiliarity when speaking to her, as if she didn’t know who she was. But if Alaenys were asked, she reasoned that she had become immune to her mother’s grasp. Unlike her father, she would not waver and be manipulated so easily. She had learned from studying the best of the best: Otto Hightower, a man who could take down the strongest ruler with only his poison-laced tongue.

The entire room was covered in an orange veil due to the light from the windows, illuminating Alicent’s right side as the candles flickered and lit up her eyes, revealing a look that Alaenys knew too well. She was tired and preparing to spew venom from her lips.

A shadow was cast on the room for a split second as the setting Sun was covered in the distance. The window only revealed darkness that would have consumed the room if it weren’t for the candles. This happened repeatedly as a flock of whatever birds flew in front of the source of light. Alaenys paid it no mind, keeping her gaze fixated on her mother’s eyes, watching how the woman spared a glance at the window and then looked back at her daughter.

“It would do you well to listen to your mother when she is speaking to you Alaenys,” A stern look stayed on the woman’s face as she lifted the hands she was using to lean her body over the table and stood straight, she looked down momentarily as if revisiting her thoughts before speaking again, “I am growing tired of Aegon’s decisions as king but your resistance to his claim is truly what I cannot yet understand”

“He would have asked for your counsel had you stayed present and gone to the meetings” Alicent attempted a look of compassion; whether it was real or not, Alaenys did not know. The silver-haired woman scoffed at her mother’s words, surprised at the hope she still held on to of her sons being kind-hearted. “He would not listen to me even if I gave him the plan to take down Rhaenyra on a silver platter” Alaenys spoke the truth, and her mother knew it. Aegon’s ego had only grown when the power of being King of the Seven Kingdoms was thrust upon him. “He would have me pour his wine and only listen in to boast about the opportunities that I have not been given for the mere fact of being born a woman”

“He gave you the opportunity of attending a meeting, did he not?”

“That was a fault, or am I wrong? Either way, what worth is there in attending that council anymore? Jaehaerys riding on Lord Tyland’s back was quite the spectacle. Whatever has happened to the grandiosity of the capital’s politics?” Alaenys ended the sentence with a scoff, searching in Alicent’s eyes for what she knew would be agreement.

The late Queen looked away, deep in thought once again.

“We should’ve just married you to Aegon, listened to the maddened prophets as they sermoned us for going against what was written in stone” She stopped to gnaw at the cuticles of her finger before speaking again, “I am sure you would have loved that, a life of thrashing against the rules as they were imposed over your every breath, but alas mother’s love and duty to the realm chose for the bride to be Helaena evident”

“Mothers’ love? Is that how you suppose the historians will paint you for the realm’s sympathy? The only child you don’t seem set out on trampling sits beside a fool who calls himself king, yet somehow you deem yourself to be merciful”

“And whose fault was that? She certainly didn’t wish to be placed there”

Alaenys’ nostrils flared, her jaw clenching once again and mirroring her fist where the knuckles were turning a stark white. The lines of the cracked glass only seemed to branch out, painting a picture of anguished violet in her eyes. Before even processing them, the words reached her lips enlaced in a bitter tone.

“Perhaps I shall call you ‘late mother’ to pay respects to the ghost of love that resided in your heart, although to even consider it requires that you have even been a mother. A condition I cannot help but deny from experience”

With a swift movement, Alicent caught Alaenys’ arm with a firm grip, pulling her towards her and raising her other hand in the process. The princess knew what was to happen; she had seen her mother do it to Aegon countless times, and yet despite her heedless temper, she had never used brute force to try and get a grasp of control with her.

Suddenly, with a creak, the heavy door opened, Alicent releasing her hold and lowering her hand at a speed Alaenys was surprised she caught with her own eyes.

“Your Grace, princess, you must leave now, the Keep has been infiltrated!” A rushed trail of words left a distressed maid, one Alaenys considered to be assigned to her mother since she did not recognise her. “The Hand has advised to leave through the docks”

Without a second thought, Alicent’s hands found Alaenys’, yet this time, although the grip was still strong, it felt different- more desperate. She tugged her daughter out of the room, not sparing another glance at the maid, as the sole worry in her mind was the search for the safest route to reach the docks.

Snaking through different corridors, Alaenys’ hand deliberately slipped from Alicent’s, falling behind as she hoped the adrenaline would will her to only look forward and not notice the sudden loss of warmth. With her eyes keeping an attentive lookout, she moved towards a dimly lit corridor, many thoughts racing as she planned a safe route, although one stayed prominent:

Find a way out before it becomes impossible.

She quickly concluded that going to her chambers, equipping herself apart from the dagger she kept on her thigh and escaping through the hidden tunnels was the best plan she could come up with in her state of adrenaline. So she kept her hastened yet quiet pace, taking a few turns and hoping she wouldn’t run into any worker who would try to bring her back to her mother.

If the news of strangers breaking into the Red Keep had only just reached them, she hoped the Dragon Pit had not yet been held hostage. After all, dragons were easier to spot than people.

Helaena.

The thought snapped her feet to the floor, blood suddenly turning cold as her mind went clear. She could not leave Helaena behind, not in the sudden turmoil when no one knew what was to happen in the next hours. The chains of guilt already had enough weight with prior acts for them to turn as heavy as Balerion from one more drop.

With a sudden change of course, she went up a narrow flight of stairs, possibly used for maids to avoid the traffic in the main corridors and reach the bedrooms at a quicker pace. Once upstairs, she bit the inside of her cheek at the realisation that the quickest route to the royal dormitories had no source of light, meaning she would be left in the darkness lest she used the candle holder adjacent to the wall.

It would be a risk, but she would never forgive herself if she got to Helaena’s room and it was too late. Regrettably, she already knew of a possible outcome, for it had happened far too recently.

With a hand as steady as she could muster, she picked up the lit candle holder and let the flickering light hold her hand as it guided her through the passage. There in the grasp of the quiet shadows the fire scared away, she let herself escape into her thoughts.

Who had infiltrated the Keep? Was it bloodthirsty assassins again in search of more blood to spill, had the Bitch Queen of Dragonstone not had enough with the death of one innocent child on her hands? Gods, she hated how her mind went to the immature nickname Aegon had thought fit her description. His words had branched out into every corner of the Keep, whispers from workers letting the insult run free from one mouth to another.

Although Alaenys and her step-sister had parted ways, the shock at the inhuman act still left her confused. Had Rhaenyra lost herself in the heat of war? After all, it was not the first life taken in the turmoil of revenge, and the Blacks knew it well.

Lucerys’ death had been unexpected, and if Alaenys had been able to accompany her younger brother on his political visit, she would have ensured his survival, at least that’s what she believed. Perhaps the jaws of old Vaghar would have entrapped her and Aegarax as well, resulting in even more blood on Aemond’s hands and blame thrown around.

Dragons. The shadows had been dragons, and Helaena herself had warned her days prior.

Her breath hitched at the realisation. Alaenys’s pace quickened, coming to an abrupt stop as the sound of a sword unsheathing met her ears. She took a step back as the edge pointed towards her.

The blade shone in the light the flame emitted with a particular gleam, Valyrian steel, she figured. But the obscure corridor shielded the figure in a veil of darkness. Was it Aemond or Aegon who had taken the same route as her? Her hand reached for the dagger hidden under the skirt of her dress, eyes fixed on the steel before her.

A step from the person before her revealed the figure, boot sounding against the stone in the silent corridor. Dark curls framed the sharp features from his familiar face, and a black battle-ready attire blended into the shadows, the red symbol from House Targaryen displayed on his chest. Defiant umber irises bore into her uncowering violet, both attempting to hide their surprise at their encounter to keep the upper hand.

Alaenys and Jacaerys stood before each other, Valyrian steel filling the space between them.

“What are you doing here?” Alaenys asked before she could stop herself, tone as sharp as the dagger she held behind her back.

“Taking back what is rightfully ours”

A/N

Now you currently were in the middle of the wilderness with wooden bungalows as your shared lodgings, first day at the Fire Pitt couldn’t have come sooner.

Orientation had taken place a few hours ago, with the you and the other counsellors reading the names of every teen and kid and their assigned cabins. But seeing everyone after so long still had you feeling euphoric. Yes, you’d managed to meet them a few times throughout the year, but the idea of everyone being together for the next few weeks was thrilling.

Trinity had crushed you in a hug, complaining about how it had been too long without having someone to rant with about her daily annoyances; Victoria squealed “Oh my God I’ve so much to tell you” as she held your hands in such a high frequency you expected dogs on the other side of the planet to hear; Mateo dapped you up in his usual kind-jock attitude (you didn’t miss Victoria’s eyes sparkling in the background); and you’d also seen Mel and Samira but they were intently listening to some incredible story Frank was telling.

Finally you saw Dennis, wearing the same white t-shirt and washed out jeans you met him in last year, his arms now filling the sleeves that used to hang looser when he crossed his arms. A nervous habit you definitely wouldn’t be complaining about.

“Hey,” You breathed.

“Hey,” He answered, his sheepish smile mirroring yours.

“Huckleberry!” Victoria crashed into him, arms squeezing his body in a hug. He tensed up, taken aback by the sudden contact before loosening and giving her soft pats on her shoulder.

“Still don’t remember approving the name” He mumbled, Victoria pulling away from the embrace energetically.

“Too bad Huckleberry, it stuck” Santos appeared at his side, slapping his arm with excessive force as if the sudden apparition hadn’t already made him jump. You stifled a laugh at his eyes widening, heart warming at the sight of the people in front of you. “So how long until we leave a kid in the middle of the lake on their bed?”

The three of you gasped, “Trinity!”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The kids had been broken into groups for each activity: kayaking, archery, arts and crafts... Shortly after, the co-directors divided the counsellors into pairs to supervise, what were the chances you and Dennis were both in charge of the same group.

First days were always chaotic, a quick tour not enough for the layout to become familiar to the campers. It was normal, you lost count of the amount of times you took the wrong turn and ended up someplace new when you snuck out. Careful not to lean too close into each other you both guided the campers to the archery range, organising them into lines in front of the round targets as you explained the activity.

Everyone caught on pretty fast, excited to start meeting their future friendships and do something other than standing and listening.

You busied yourself with the little girl in front of you, her hands holding the plastic bow carefully. She introduced herself as Natalie, politely answering when you asked for the information.

Your attention was split between Natalie and a group of boys huddled around one who was pointing his bow and arrow to the sky, whispering bets about who it would hit if he let go.

“Noah I swear I’ll throw you into the lake if you release it” You warned, your stern expression turning soft as you returned to the girl. Learning the kids’ names was no easy feat, but after Noah had also been testing the limits of your patience by interrupting the other counsellors during orientation it was easy to remember the name.

You noticed Dennis not-so-subtly looking over. He looked different this summer, new haircut and growing confidence somehow making him even more attractive. It was his endearing personality that hooked you, but now you feared not being able to concentrate if you had to do some close proximity activity together.

“Listen to your counsellor, she’ll do it,” Dennis added. He knew you could handle the situation, but why have you stressing over the troublemakers if he could help? You sent him a silent smile in gratitude, looking over the girl’s stretched arm as she pulled back the arrow. Hopefully the heat creeping up your neck wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.

Hitting the target when she let go, you both cheered, her short arms taking your crouched figure in a hug. She passed the bow to the teen behind her an ear-to-ear smile lighting up her face. Knowing from experience teens preferred to do the activity on their own, instead of using your time to stand by and watch you simply asked, “You got it?” A confident nod your cue to move to someone who might need more help.

To Dennis’ right a boy about 15 years old was busy trying to talk to a girl at least two years older than him, her friend behind her holding back her laugh as she prepared to tease her definitely uninterested friend about it later. Maybe ‘help’ wasn’t the right word, redirect his attention seemed more appropriate in this case. Making your way towards him you crossed Dennis, forcibly avoiding the pull you felt towards each other as you passed him.

Standing behind, you heard the teen boast about some ‘definitely legit bar that had messed up his order and gave him the alcoholic drink instead of the non-alcoholic version’, you physically held back the urge to roll your eyes.

“What’s the issue…?” You left space for him to answer with his name, breaking up his very thrilling conversation with the girl who looked at you like you were a fallen angel.

“Patrick,” He answered after almost jumping out of his skin, not expecting one of the camp counsellors to sneak up on him. When he didn’t elaborate you prodded.

“Is there some reason why you’re not using your bow for something other than holding up the line of people behind you?”

“I don’t get it” His arms went limp in disinterest, clearly not bothered enough to give it an actual try. “Could you do it and then I learn from you?”

Keeping a neutral expression proved to be much harder than you expected, not willing to give in to the kid testing the limits of counsellors patience. Again.

Dennis saw the opening, a chance to playfully get under your skin. Crossing his arms, he walked pass you both, acting as if he was going to help someone on the other side. “Watch one, do one, teach one, learned it in med school”

You stilled, tongue pressing against the side of your cheek as you hear Dennis reason with the rascal.

“Sounds like counsellor Dennis agrees” A smug grin on his face as he looked between the two of you.

Not wasting a second you turned on the balls of your feet, catching Dennis’ attention and making him stop.

"Okay Legolas, show the kids your masterful archery skills then," Your hands rested on your hips, brow raising teasingly. The plan had gone perfectly, the only thing he hadn’t accounted for, the possibility of payback biting him in the ass.

Now it was too late to take it back.

"I'd just embarrass all of you" He joked, waving his hands in dismissal. Inside, panic surged from the soles of his feet to the tips of his fingers.

A preteen boy with unruly black curls almost magically appeared at his side, offering his bow. The two counsellors looked at each other, knowing there was no way of backing out now that the kids were too invested. A few others listened in, the possibility of a camp counsellor embarrassing themselves much more interesting than shooting the fake arrows towards coloured circles.

"Uh, okay thanks" His free hand went to scratch the back of his neck, warmth coating your cheeks at the endearing habit. He always did it when he was nervous, and demonstrating his (definitely nonexistent apart from the basics) archery skills was an understandable reason.

He stole a look from you as he adjusted his grip on the handle, silently searching for reassurance. Your smile was enough, it always was. You could see him muttering words to himself, the archery group of kids watching intently as he readied the arrow.

Everyone held their breath when the bowstring tensed, drawing a slight arch between the target and the angle at which he directed the arrow. The target was made up of various circles in different sizes, getting smaller as they closed in on the centre.

With a sharp whistle the suction cup found itself on the target after flying through the air. And to everyone's surprise, it landed on the line delimiting the bullseye and the second smallest circle, a look of utter disbelief crossing everyone's expression.

Whitaker just laughed, an unbridled release of tension as waves of laughter rolled off him, eventually spreading to you. An airy laugh of disbelief left your lips, clapping your hands slowly and the rest slowly joining.

A familiar figure passed by, greying beard and hands in pockets his distinctive look. Robby the Camp co-director confused by the celebration walked over to Dennis and you.

"What just happened?" He stood beside a group of kids, watching how the neat lines had merged into a mass.

"Legolas" Natalie beamed, likely not even knowing what the name meant.

Robby followed her pointing finger, finding Dennis awkwardly standing in front of the target with a group of kids at either side as you took a photo with his camera. Not knowing what to say he simply shrugged, muttering something about kids these days.

When all the campers went away you got closer to Dennis, an array of practice arrows in your hand. You were both tidying up for the next group, the soft rock melody playing through the camp speakers announcing the change in activity. As instructed, the kids had started heading towards the crafts cabin where loads of different materials would be set up to allow them to delve into their creative ideas.

"Do you even know who Legolas is?" Dennis' lack of pop culture was no mystery to you, most jokes usually flying over his head. It’s not like you didn’t try to educate him in memes and references, but it was impossible to cover them all.

"Uh yeah, I've read the books," He stated evidently, definitely oblivious to the fact that they adapted them into movies years ago.

"Of course you have," A chuckle left your lips, eyes closing as you shook your head. You were careful not to stand too close to him, wary of onlookers.

He offered his empty hand, a silent motion to hand over the arrows. You had mentioned once how a spider jumped on your hand when you were organising the basket filled with archery supplies, and of course he remembered. You let them fall into the open palm, fingers brushing his.

It was things like these that made you fall for him last year, the selfless will to help no matter the situation, although sometimes it was more a curse than a blessing. A small scar he got on his forearm from trying to help a kid who got his foot stuck under some sharp rocks in the river one of the many reminders.

"I'll see you in arts and crafts" He smiled, shoulder softly bumping against yours when he walked pass. You faced each other for as long as you could before it looked suspicious, maybe it already did.

Fuck, whatever was happening between the both of you had stopped being a simple summer fling long ago.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

In the cabins, Trinity was lying down on her bed, stomach pressed against the sheets as she wrote down her thoughts into the leather notebook. The sun had started to set and everyone was exhausted after the extensive activities.

"If I hear six-seven one more time I swear I'm getting a special mention in one of those true crime podcasts," She complained, her writing momentarily turning more aggressive. If only she knew Mateo had been inciting the group behind her back, feigning confusion when she looked back to not seem suspicious.

You folded your clothes neatly, placing the nice tops in one of the drawers assigned to you. "I love how you act like your name was picked out of a bowl hunger-games-style when, in reality, you applied."

"You guys would miss me too much if I didn't come."

"Yeah yeah," Victoria rolled her eyes playfully, holding her phone above her head to try and get reception. Despite being the same age as some of the older teens attending the camp, she managed to score a spot as a counsellor.

Her never ending list of volunteer work and after class activities likely boosting her in the selection process.

Giving up after folding the same zip-up hoodie and it somehow always turning up uneven you sat down on your bed. The cabins were designed for six people, making it so that with Trinity, Victoria, Mel, Samira and you there was still another spot left. You didn’t know if someone would be arriving in a few days but you didn’t complain, all of you using it as a placeholder for the different card games you had brought. The beds were arranged in three’s, perpendicular to the long walls of the rectangle shaped cabin with storage places in between for your belonging. Your bed was in between Samira’s and Victoria’s, making Trinity’s be in front and Mel’s diagonally right. “I don’t understand why you choose to come here again when you don’t like kids that much”

“It’s not that I don’t like kids, they’re nice when they’re not Satan incarnate”

“Which is 70% of them” Victoria groaned as she let herself fall back on her bed, giving up on her phone and placing it beside her head.

Trinity grinned sarcastically, hands at either side when she made her point. “Leaving 30% of little angels I’ll adore and protect”

“You’re not supposed to pick favourites” Chimed in Mel, holding her shower supplies and walking to the far end of the cabin where another room divided in showers and toilets with sinks was.

“What about Taylor? You could’ve made a mural with all the drawings you kept” The name rang a bell, a hard-working 8 year old who tailed Mel endlessly last year. A proud grin on her face whenever she finished her animal sketches. How did Trinity even remember?

“True,” Muttered Mel, closing the door behind her with a click to avoid filling up the rest of the room with vapour from the warm shower.

Everyone's attention turned to Samira, who muttered something under her breath as she turned over. For some inhumane reason her sleeping schedule entailed sleeping so early she was yawning by 9 pm. Not that he would let it show, biting down to avoid seeming distant, her jaw only stretched slightly.

There was a ‘good reason’ for her to sleep so early, claiming a quick run at 6 am energised her for the day. You'd be deeply asleep by then, hopefully undisturbed by sick campers.

You couldn't help but notice what time it was, nerves tugging at your stomach. Everyone around you was either passing out due to exhaustion or busy. It was now or never, before someone decided to come up with some card game and revive the energy.

"Hey I think I'm gonna go out on a walk, try and catch a view of the full moon coming out"

"As long as you don't curse any of us," Trinity turned to look at Victoria when she didn’t hear her say anything to you. "Bid your farewells to Victoria, she'll be snoring by the time you come back."

Victoria's head popped up, ponytail slightly undone. For a moment she thought about refuting, but even that was too energy consuming. She opted for a lazy wave goodbye, her grogginess a sharp contrast from the beaming Javadi that greeted you with squeals.

Aware of the cooler temperatures that creeped in once the Sun hid under the horizon, you grabbed one of the oversized hoodies you hadn't stored yet. The comforting smell was vague but still present, covering you as you made your way down the front porch steps and put the hoodie on.

You wandered through the woods, following the familiar path to the docks you always took last year. The distant cabin lamps bled into the treeline, enough to see in front of you but still keeping you hidden to anyone in the main gravel trail.

"Lost?" A voice came from behind a tree, making you jump.

"Holy fuck-" Your heart hammered against your chest, settling once you realised who it was. "Didn't take you for a stalker."

Dennis had his arms behind his back, matching your step with unspoken ease. It was second nature by now.

"Didn't take you for an easy scare after spending so much time with Santos" He countered.

Your gaze narrowed, feigning annoyance at his words.

His frame relaxed completely, a deeply caring expression washing over him. It was just him and you sheltered by the trees, there was no need for stolen glances and words with hidden meanings. "I missed you."

The three words hit harder than you wished, forcing your body to still, tongue wetting your lips out of habit when you sunk into your thoughts.

"I missed you too," It wasn’t just repeating his words out of habit, like you would when walking out of a store and answering ‘You too’ when the cashier says ‘Have a good day’, you whispered them with a certain intimacy.

Wasn't this supposed to be just a fling?

Crickets chirped against cold breeze, filling in the silence.

He stretched his arm towards you, offering an open hand. Taking a step forward, you interlaced your fingers with his, chests almost touching as the short distance forced you to look up at him.

Your fingers went to his hair, mullet even messier after the long day. Instinctively his eyes closed at the touch, lips parting.

“You didn’t tell me about your haircut” You muttered under your breath, stomach fluttering at his reaction due to the body language reminiscing moments you shared before.

He licked his lips nervously, ”Yeah, I got it about a week ago” Then a moment of silence as he allowed himself to think, brows knitting in uncertainty. Suddenly it was last year’s Dennis Whitaker in front of you, the one who had a constant expression of concern on his face. “You like it?”

Pressing your lips into a thin line and looking down to disguise the creeping blush, you answered.

“It looks good, suits the new you.”

Taking him by surprise he took his index finger, placing it under your chin and gingerly forcing you to look up at him again. Having regained visuals you noticed the confusion etched on his expression. ”New me?”

“Dennis, come on,” You started, when his expression remained unchanged you continued with a humoured scoff. “You’re more confident, you’re standing taller instead of trying to blend into the background, you even helped call out Noah when he was trying to glue someone’s lashes at arts and crafts.”

“He was disturbing the activity,” Dennis spoke matter of factly, reading into your words and surprisingly finding the connections. For him it had been so gradual that the ‘new’ him seemed the same he had always been.

“You would’ve let someone else deal with it, specially if there was a chance he would talk back”

“Guess med school pushed me to change for the better,” Shrugging he took one of the hoodie’s drawstrings in between his fingers, a silent acknowledgment of the fact you were wearing one of his. You tried to ignore the look he gave you.

“I’m so happy you applied, you deserve to be studying what you want.”

“I’m glad you convinced me, I couldn’t take another year in theology,” You knew everything that had happened in response to him dropping his former course to begin studying medicine, the endless arguments with his father and his brothers shutting him out more than they did before, if that was even possible. Their jealousy at his opportunity to leave their personal Nebraskan cage turned them bitter, making two sides of the family with Dennis completely alone.

He found comfort in your unwavering support, when he mentioned the idea of med school as a fleeting idea he hid in the back of his mind you didn’t hesitate to encourage him until he thought of it as a future plan.

Finding someone who found his dreams possible instead of a laughing matter had shook him to the core, heart filling with endearment. A love struck haze had taken control over his mind ever since, avoiding how this was supposed to be only a fling when he remembered. It hurt too much that the person who understood him so deeply was only meant to be a superficial relationship, nothing serious.

If only he was aware you shared the sentiment.

Having you in front of him made his heart swell in his chest, the memories rushing in and making the need to have you closer grow. He feared if he waited any longer it might unfurl into frenzied kisses in front of the whole camp, so in the hidden blanket of the starry night he began leaning into you.

He stopped, leaving the smallest of spaces in between. For a moment he searched for any sign of disapproval or regret in your expression.

But a moment felt too long.

You closed the distance, lips crashing into his and immediately answered with a groan. His hand encased the side of your face, calloused skin from working at the farm brushing your cheek. Somehow he was close but never enough, your chests pressed against the other as he took small steps your way, forcing you to take them in the opposite direction.

Your back hit a tree trunk, but not harshly. With Dennis at your side crashes would always be feathered falls.

Still it took you by surprise, gasping into the kiss. He took the opportunity to deepen it and slide his tongue against yours, one of his hands resting against the wood while the other pressed onto the small of your back to have you closer. Being with him was one of the few things that revitalised you, how he managed to tap into your pleasurable desires with such ease you didn’t know, it was like you were on the same length wave.

Your hand was fully threaded into his honey curls, tensing when a muffled moan rose from your throat. It was going to be pretty fucking hard to go back to the cabin after this and not look completely flushed, but in that moment nothing else mattered.

At one point air became too scarce, forcing you to pull away and let your head fall back onto the thick bark, your chests heaving in synchrony. The hand on your back trailed up your body, coming to stop at the side of your face as he kissed your temple.

“I missed this too,” He grinned shyly, making you bite your lower lip to stop you from mirroring his expression. Leave it to Dennis Whitaker to make a heated make out an endearing moment.

Thankfully you wouldn’t be immediately returning to the lodgings just yet, if Trinity saw your scarlet blush covering your face she would know something was up in an instant. For now she just thought you had some weird obsession with stargazing or spending time outside as she Sun turned to Moon, or at least you hoped so.

You strolled around the camp as you caught up, jokes and teasing pokes keeping you both light in your feet. A soft blush impossible to wipe away in the flirty haze.

Conversation covered a plethora of different subjects, like his time in med school and your busy studies. There was no forced listening or vacant nodding to pass to the next subject, the passion you both felt for the different topics sticking to each other.

After a while you circled back to the cabins, careful not to stay out for too long and incite questioning from your friends. Your conversation had shifted to Dennis' new cabin 'buddy'.

“There’s this guy at my cabin who’s driving me crazy, you might’ve seen him in orientation. Tall, blonde, Robby called him Ogilvie” Dennis complained, feeling your arm snake around his to stay warm.

You searched in your memory, his description only matching the counsellor you didn’t recognise. “Uh yeah, was he the one who dared a kid to a staring contest after bragging about winning I don’t know how many?”

“Yeah that’s him, he’s definitely trying to get a big hero moment and falling on his ass”

“I’m manifesting- although it’s not like your track record is clean. How many times did you get something thrown or staining your clothes. Wait, is that how you nailed the archery practice? After being hit by so many proyectiles you have some special connection to them.”

“Ha ha, really funny,” He deadpanned, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek to suppress the growing smile. You leaned closer into him, the hoodie you stole from him last year somehow not enough to fight the cold, maybe the fact that you were wearing shorts didn’t exactly help.

Dennis and you froze.

Someone clearing their throat behind you cut through the comfortable silence, making both your stomachs drop. Not knowing who it was made it even worse, what if Trinity caught you? No that didn’t sound like Trin, it was deeper. You turned around to see who it was.

"So.. midnight stroll huh?" Abbot crossed his arms, a humored look on his face. Anyone over the age of 12 would know exactly what was happening, but the fact that it was a co-director who found you didn't make it any easier.

Maybe it was better than a loud mouthed kid who screamed at the top of his lungs after seeing you like this.

"Uhhhh.." Was all that Dennis could mutter, somehow making the situation even worse. You squeezed his arm to get him to stop.

Story, story, story, you need a story. So you said the first thing that came to mind.

"A kid left one of his shoes at the dock, he told Dennis and when he couldn't find it and saw me passing by he asked me to help him look for it,” An innocent smile painted across your lips as you slowly separated, the ghost of his warm side leaving you cold. You patted Dennis' shoulder in the most happy-to-help-you-buddy way possible.

Hopefully it didn’t look as stiff as it felt.

"Right," Abbot nodded his head, pursing his lips in a satisfied manner, clearly stifling a laugh. "You found the shoe?"

"Yup," You answered, mentally screaming at Dennis to say something. Or maybe not, he might say the most out of pocket thing and make the completely believable progress you made null. No, it was pretty hard for this to get any worse.

Every second felt too long, dragging on in a way you didn’t even consider possible.

"Great, we got our own Sherlock and Watson, I’ll call you if I ever loose my patience," Abbot closed his hands into two thumbs up, jutting them upwards as he began walking backwards. "Don't stay up too late detectives."

You both shook your heads in response, watching how he headed to the main cabin. That went much smoother than you expected it to, had it been Robby you would’ve been dragged by the arms to answer deep questioning. You both let out an audible sigh when he was out of hearing distance, turning to a muted laugh when you placed a hand over Dennis’ mouth to stop him.

"Shhh, remind me to never ask you if I'm planning a heist and get caught," You whispered through gritted teeth, unable to hide the grin.

"Trinity's the one to ask. She'd have this secret plan up her sleeve, always does."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You stopped in between some trees, not too close to your cabin in case someone decided to get some fresh air and see you both.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hands on his chest you leaned up to peck his lips, hooking the silver chain on his neck with your index finger and pulling towards you.

“Get some sleep,” He muttered against your lips, knowing all too well your sleeping schedule was in every way fucked up. Humming in response you kissed him again, smiling when he leaned into you as you pulled back.

A/N:

Is it normal to experience fomo over a place you literally made up in your head? I have some more ideas for this au so I might make more.

The chirping birds and rustling leaves filtered through her ears, immediately making her feel at ease. As the foliage around her built upward, her pace slowed and her breathing returned to its controlled state. The girl followed one of the many paths until she reached where she wished.

Tall hedges surrounded the hidden section, obscuring the view from any passersby who might have decided to go for a morning stroll. Turning swiftly on the balls of her feet, the girl inspected the area around her as she walked backwards into the secluded area. Her momentary peace was suddenly broken by her back bumping into something, or more specifically, someone, making her stomach drop

“Alaenys” A surprised gasp left Princess Rhaenyra’s lips, a small smile painting itself at the sight of her step-sister. Contrary to Rhaenyra’s calm demeanour, the younger princess had to put on her best show to attempt to hide how nervous the encounter had caused her to be.

“Princess, I had not seen you there. I’m truly sorry, if you need I am sure I can move elsewhere” Alaenys’ gaze shifted from Rhaenyra to everywhere else as she looked around, trying to find said place where she could go if her half-sister bid her to. Though she deeply wished she wouldn’t mind.

A gentle laugh left Rhaenyra’s lips at the sight in front of her, stabilising the younger girl as she lost her balance when returning to the original position she had been in before twirling.

“Alaenys, whatever has caused you to be so nervous? Your presence does not disturb me, you needn’t worry”

Alaenys pursed her lips and laced her hands together, eyes falling to her feet before looking up again at Rhaenyra’s eyes and nodding in gratitude. But just enough so that it did not seem suspicious, at least that is what she told herself.

The heir, of course, knew exactly what was happening, basking in the beaming energy the girl irradiated. A naivety she would do anything to feel again, the rush of adrenaline from disappearing and not attending one of her surely dreaded classes. The curiosity now pushing to know more, hoping that if she were to close her eyes and imagine it would be her again who could still escape from the heavy chains of responsibilities.

“So what is it you’re doing here, Alaenys? Any interesting flowers catch your eye on your way to the library for classes?”

“I am- um- waiting for Juline”

With a hum of acknowledgement, Rhaenyra continued to speak, sitting on one of the many stone benches surrounding the bushes and flowers decoratively organised in the middle of the circular hideaway. The exhaustive need for attention the babe required had left her restless during the night, thus resulting in the benches calling out her name to rest her aching muscles. “Ah, your close companion. It seems that both of you have been attached at the hip ever since the girl was appointed to your side by your grandsire, the Hand”

Alaenys wasn’t fully attentive to Rhaenyra when she spoke, her gaze skimming over the colourful foliage with varied flowers, but she did not miss the waver in her voice at the beginning of her speech. Her eyes caught a radiant patch of daisies in the centre piece, stark white petals seemed to glow under the radiant morning sun, almost matching its yellow centre.

“She keeps me in line—although mother does not agree, she believes I feed off the recklessness of those around me-” The words seemed to slip out of Alaenys’ mouth, surprised by the lack of effort it took to speak contradictorily of her mother. She stiffened up and silently thanked the Queen’s absence. Alaenys bit her tongue as she reached over the hip-tall bushes to avoid speaking out of turn any more than she already had, catching the princess’ attention due to the sudden silence.

After analysing the situation, Rhaenyra stood up and reached over to take a few daisies, the loose curls falling over her shoulder at the action before settling again when she straightened, daisies in hand. Alaenys did not know how to react, simply following with her eyes as her brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden act.

“Not that I am very knowledgeable regarding flower arrangements, but I believe these carnations would look great with your daisies” With great care, Rhaenyra picked two bearing a soft pink shade in their petals, handing them over with a kind smile as Alaenys’ small hands arranged the flowers. ”There, now that’s some beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl”

Before the young girl could muster an answer, a familiar voice rang through her ears, making her stomach jump to her throat and silencing her again. Adrenaline suddenly coated her from her fingertips to the soles of her feet.

“Princess Alaenys, should you not be in one of your lessons?” An armoured figure came into view of both princesses, a contrasting expression on each of them reflecting their ability to hide their thoughts when they realised it was Ser Criston. He had a look of both fulfilment and surprise, leading Rhaenyra to believe that he was charged with finding Alaenys due to her harmless escape, but had not expected her to be with the adult he still resented.

“All is alright, Ser Criston, I had requested her presence” With a quick sentence from Rhaenyra’s lips, he was dismissed. The younger girl was undoubtedly surprised, but every fibre of her being stopped her from looking up to see Rhaenyra as she spoke the words. If she did, maybe her shocked look would give them away. Alaenys simply nodded with a polite look on her face, her fingers tracing the different stems she held.

With a strained nod and an expression Alaenys couldn’t quite read, Criston Cole took his leave.

“Thank you for reaching for the flowers” The words were soft when Alaenys spoke again, looking up to see an unknown expression on Rhaenyra’s face, her features had seemed to go soft for an instant. She had thought momentarily of giving the flowers to her mother, maybe as an act of penitence for thinking ill of her, but something told her the flowers would end the day as ashes in her fireplace. “Please take them, I would love it if you considered them as a present from me to you”

“It was merely taking the flowers-” Alaenys suddenly seemed to deflate, her extended hands with the flowers between them lowered slightly, and she could see thoughts battling behind her eyes. “I’ll keep these safe in my quarters, thank you, sister”

As Alaenys nodded her head in a bow before walking away, the look in Rhaenyra’s eyes changed, her brows slightly furrowing as she tilted her head. She had heard of the old Valyrian prophecy whispered between those around her. How Helaena’s mind was entrapped by the hands of the gods, as well as how her sister had fallen behind. They took the princess as defiant, unveiling a reluctant feeling towards her possible figure as ruler.

No one wanted a defiant princess who could one day become queen. Rhaenyra knew of it, for she experienced it every waking day. However, all she could see was a child with a heart and mind the seven kingdoms could not mould or crush, a deep worry engulfing her gut.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

With the weak flicker of a flame, the Small Council meeting came to an end, the morning sun shining through the stone arches to bathe the participants in warmth. Yet if anything, all Alaenys felt was a chilling cold running in her veins at every announcement shared regarding the city’s state. She knew it wouldn’t take many moons for the crowds to rise, filled to the brim with hate in contrast to their empty stomachs.

A busy shuffling of chairs filled the room as those surrounding the princess sat up, normalcy coating their faces despite the circumstances. With a steady hold, she sat up to see Aegon looking at her deep in thought. She watched as his mouth opened momentarily, words on the tip of his tongue, before closing back again with a deafening silence between the siblings. His feet led him to the door in a steady pace without sparing another glance, confusion tugging her brows into a furrow.

With a shake of her head, she moved up to the head of the table, enjoying the silence from the empty room. Calm waters after crashing waves.

Her hands rested on the seat at the front, the very same Aegon had sat mere minutes ago. Unconsciously, she let out a breath, fingers curling on the decorated design. Her mind raced as she thought back on how many people had been considered to place the heavy crown atop their heads. How much blood had been shed for the fantasy of sitting on a sharp throne? Aegon, Aenys, Maegor, Jaehaerys… the words melted into each other like the swords that made up the throne where they sat.

Her ears perked at the familiar footsteps filtering into her senses, eyes opening yet not meeting his gaze.

“Thank you for taking my side against Aegon,” she breathed out, voice almost a whisper when she felt Aemond’s presence linger in the supposedly empty room. Her eyes left her closed fingers resting on the furniture to meet his own, a simple nod as his response.

“I’m familiar with his mind games, inviting you to the council to then dismiss you as an act of power when he feels targeted or questioned. He is always happy to hold the sword, but when the blade is directed towards him, he’s quick to take offence” His own hands mirrored her movements, placing themselves on the chair where young Jaehaerys had once been seated. They stood on opposite ends of the table, Alaenys’ shadow almost reaching Aemond’s figure as her back faced the incoming sun rays.

“He thought bringing Jaehaerys was a good idea, he’s only a child, he shouldn’t be listening to matters as distressing as these” Her grip tightened, knuckles bearing a hint of white at the force. “And teasing the Master of Coin in times such as these? What the Seven hells is he thinking?”

“He isn’t, never has. Impulse has gotten him to where he is, so he has deemed it a fruitful method”

“Impulse will lead to our heads on top of stakes at the Wall, it is brash and senseless” She leaned her head on her hands, a sigh leaving her lips in exasperation. “The Small Council’s prestige is cracking away, one fissure at a time”

Aemond nodded again, the common response eliciting a tug at Alaenys’ lips when she raised her head to take in his answer. His features contorted into a confused look, lips pressing into each other as he suppressed a smile of his own.

“What?”

“Such a wordy answer, I can barely speak between your sentences. I am sure the ladies you speak to beg you to stop just so that they can mutter a word,” She teased, the words giving away the endearing care she held for her brother.

“For that, I would realistically need to court someone” The words held a bitter edge; they both knew how after Aemond’s uneventful childhood, he hadn’t been considered an interesting prospect. He had remained in the shadow for so long that even some ladies had forgotten the possibility of him as a future husband.

“The time will come brother, let the war end, and you will acquire it”

“Ever the optimist”

“I believe you’re speaking to the wrong sister then” She scoffed.

“You consider the possibility of the war ending to be real?”

“All things end, that includes war. Yet we must cross our fingers for its ending to come sooner rather than later, and at that, for our bodies not to return as a pile of valyrian steel blades and ashes”

“Such wise words sister, I must find the Septa to congratulate her on her teachings” The small smile finally reached his eye, finding humour in her sister’s hatred for her teachings.

“Fuck the Septa, her teachings were as dull as the wrinkled drapes she used for clothes” She rolled her eyes as she answered, a morsel of comfort at their customary bickering.

She knew Aemond found refuge in her support, although it had wavered on the night of Laena Velaryon’s funeral. He had taken Vaghar as proof not only to himself but to those around him that his silver locks and purple eyes were not the only attributes to make him Targaryen. Her rage at his actions was evident, but one look at his bloody eye and worry was draped over the anger. Although it did not take long for it to resurface, with the disregard for his injuries and evident favour to Rhaenyra’s sons’ scratches, her screams had blended in with the injustice crowding the room. The wound in his eye, now covered with a patch, was not the only incision carved that night. Courtesy of their mother’s fury, Rhaenyra now held a deep scar along her forearm..

That night, he promised that even if guilt ate through his entire body, he would never reveal that he had held a rock as a weapon in the first place. If she responded with silence and a betrayed look in her eyes, he would simply crawl back into the hole he hid in throughout his childhood. He could only suffer so much disappointment at a time, and the looks and whispered words from the seven kingdoms at his useless birthright were enough to last six lifetimes.

“I’ve been gifted a new sword. How about we make sure your sparring techniques haven’t rusted yet?” Aemond proposed, lifting his hands from the chair as he prepared his leave. He still had duties despite the present war.

She responded with an eager nod, excitement obvious in her response. It felt refreshing not to be responded to with a scowl at her experience with swordfighting. She had her brothers to thank for the teachings they gave her when Criston Cole profusely refused, and her mother had given her a day-long lecture. At her silent answer, his lips parted, teasing words at the ready.

“Don’t even dare to speak, or I will make sure you leave the sparring practice with a matching patch for your other eye. I don’t believe there are many teachers for fully blind princes” As the words left her lips, she had moved from the head chair towards the exit door, hand hitting his stomach when she passed in front of him. The explicit words he grunted brought a smirk to her lips as she walked down the steps, the door closing behind her as she reached the corridor.

The evening blended into a flurry of activities: tea with her ladies in waiting, sparring with Aemond and a check-up on Helaena.

As she listened to the latest gossip, she sank her lips into the teacup to space out the dreary voices, her eyes unwillingly searching for the missing presence. When she sparred with Aemond, she made sure to stay light on her feet, the dragon leathers she used for sparring clothes now present as she discarded the dresses she had used for a cover when getting to their hidden spot. Her sword switched from one hand to the other, making sure not to favour any side and also make the lessons more interesting as they had memorised each other’s fighting styles after years of practising.

Once the beads of sweat across their faces shone a tone of orange at the setting sun, they decided to stop, Aemond’s right eye still present despite her lighthearted warnings. Cursing the heat as she covered herself with the dress once again, she went to her room, called for a bath and enjoyed the mild temperature when she sank into the water.

Helaena was found in the exact same state as that morning, distracted and troubled. Alaenys worried the frown lines would stay embedded between her brows, holding back the urge to smooth them out with her thumb. They spoke of empty subjects, the real cause of the conversation was the comfort they gave each other, a constant in the shattering present they had been subjected to. With a heavy heart and a kiss to the crown of her head, Alaenys went back to her room.

Sleep called for her in hushed whispers, the deep ocean of comfort enveloping her after the familiar tossing and turning due to the endless string of worries. As the stars shone above her, two figures moved through the Keep, ill intentions leaving a trail of resentment behind every step they took and fueling their enjoyment as they questioned Helaena. The Queen’s eyes were coated with tears as reality sank in, deep, gushing sound as metal made contact with skin, testimony of the newfound loss. The gruesome act made her objective evident: save her daughter.

Avoiding the busy figures leaning over the other cot, she reached for Jaehera, an attempt to grasp the little hope remaining in the room. Guilt made every step heavy as she tried not to think of the direction she had pointed to. Had she really attempted to sacrifice her daughter to allow Jaehaerys to live? What did it matter if the boy’s blood now stained his sheets, the men surely enjoying how the skin had given away to the blade to reveal the liquid. She brought her daughter closer, the embrace a silent apology in her heart.

Her feet walked instinctively, taking her to where she knew she could find comfort. Separating the shaking hand from Jaehera’s hold after making sure the girl wouldn’t fall, she opened the door.

The rushed whispers leaving Helaena’s lips and concerned mutters from Jaehera filtered through Alaenys’ ears, immediately waking her up with a jolt. Her eyes took in the sight in front of her, alarm bidding any tiredness away as she got up and rushed to her sister’s side.

“Where’s Jaehaerys? What happened?” Alaenys’ heart crumbled when her sister shook her head, visibly distraught at the turn of events. In another circumstance, Alaenys would have taken Jaehera from her mother’s arms so she could sit down or not feel the constant pressure against her chest, but she quickly realised the daughter’s close presence had kept the mother’s mind from cracking into shambles.

The aching in the princess’s muscles was doused by the heavy adrenaline coursing through her blood. Without a second thought, she took the unsheathed sword in her hand, unsure of the threat since Helaena seemed unable to speak. The mere tear streaks down Helaena’s cheeks bid not to pry any more into the subject.

Alaenys’ left hand found Helaena’s shoulder, applying the smallest pressure to lead her forward. The corridors were eerily silent, once again momentarily oblivious of the blood spilt in the dead of night. Alaenys held back the bitter laugh tempting to spill at the knowledge that she had been present in the aftermath of both. Just how much tragedy did the Gods deem necessary for them to stop haunting her?

Her mind was hazy, so much so that it dragged her to the last place she would think to go, had it been instinct? She knew she was supposed to feel a gravitational pull towards her mother, but at the searing hot pain she had been exposed to every time she had tried to reach out towards her supposed support figure, she decided to put the feelings aside. Yet her left hand instinctively opened the metal door leading to her mother’s chambers in a moment of uncertainty.

The rhythmic sound of grunts and moans filled the room, momentarily unnoticed by the two daughters as they made their way into their supposed safe haven. With a deafening silence, Helaena sank to the floor, clinging to Jeahera even closer. Alaenys turned around, the forsaken image burning her eyes in an instant and eliciting a scream from her lips.

“What the fuck? Criston Cole?!” The clattering of metal on the stone floor broke the pleasured noise as Alaenys’ sword fell to the ground. The sudden reveal of her mother’s figure on top of the head of the Kingsguard Alaenys had learned to hate almost brought bile to the princess’ mouth. Alicent quickly separated from Criston, bringing the sheets to her chest to hide whatever modesty she could cling to.

“Alaenys!” Alicent attempted to hush her daughter, fear creeping in at the possibility of being found in the compromising situation. In a quick evaluation of the situation, she found the reason why she had been found, a distressed Helaena sat on the floor, eyes empty, as the sole focus of her body was to rock the poor child whom she held.

As much as she willed her body to move, to comfort and ensure her daughter nothing bad would come to her, she couldn’t. The sheets felt like molten stone poured onto her, holding her down onto her sinful guilt. The figure beside her should be in flames, according to all the Gods she had worshipped for years to find comfort, yet he sat there bare and confused.

Alaenys’ body held back the urge to lecture her mother, calling her out for the acts she was committing; instead, her brows pinched at the still figure. A scowl painted her features before sitting beside Helaena, comforting her while her mother simply watched, unmoving. The princess attempted not to dig too far into the truth, how this wasn’t the first time she had comforted Helaena because she had seen her mother unfit for it.

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