rise from the ashes

he   breathes   a   little   easier   upon   hearing   her   voice   break   through   the   staleness   of   the   air.   a   careful   eye   and   ear   on   the   tenderness   of   her   voice   ,       in   her   movements.   waking   from   the   dredges   of   sleep   could   not   come   easy   to   anyone   ,       but   ren   could   only   imagine   how   much   more   difficult   it   must   be   for   his   sister.   to   find   herself   having   wandered   from   the   safety   of   her   bed   ,       unable   to   escape   the   clutches   of   her   dreams.   he'd   had   many   a   fear   of   what   a   single   misstep   could   bring.   down   a   flight   of   stone   steps   ,       or   perhaps   within   the   clutches   of   one   who   would   wish   her   ill.   there   was   a   reason   he   always   sought   to   find   himself   within   her   shadow.   to   follow   wherever   it   was   she   might   roam.

     ❝     i   don't   think   i   worry   enough   ,       tsuki.     ❞       he   never   could   ,       when   it   came   to   protecting   his   family.   but   enough   of   the   panic   had   faded   to   allow   for   a   slight   huff   of   laughter.   taking   a   moment   to   slip   his   boots   back   on   (   his   very   plain   ,     not   smelly   boots )   before   joining   her   to   sit   against   the   stones.     ❝     you'll   have   as   many   as   you   need.     ❞       and   while   he   did   his   best   to   keep   his   glances   from   being   too   obvious   ,       there   was   no   hiding   the   concern   at   her   watering   eyes   ,       and   the   hesitation   that   coated   her   words.     ❝     ... i   would   never   force   you   to   speak   on   it   ,       but   i   am   here   to   listen.   to   whatever   it   is   you   might have   to   say.     ❞

let her sit with the warmth in the land of the living. to know without doubt that she is not alone. she isn't sure how long they remain in the silence until tsuki realizes they best not remain here. words cannot express their gratitude for the gift of their presence.

"c'mon, ren. let's head back. shizuka will be worried if she finds both beds empty." she lets him help her to her feet, giving his hand a squeeze in thanks, before both blackwoods start back on the long walk to their rooms.

“aila ! ”   the   sound   came   so   quickly   that   edmure   did   not   register   that   the   voice   belonged   to   him.   it   sounded   like   a   roar,   as   though   the   dragon   had   possessed   him   for   just   a   moment.   care   and   concern   for   himself   (   if   he   ever   had   any   )   abandoned   him,   and   he   made   a   quick   dart   towards   their   positioning.   the   world   around   burned,   the   scent   of   cooking   meat   suffocating   in   the   air   ;   if   they   survived   it   would   have   been   a   miracle,   but   the   lord   would   have done   anything   in   his   power   to   ensure   the   life   saved   was   aila’s   instead   of   his.   perhaps   it   had   been   his   eruption   or,   maybe,   sunwing   sensed   an   end   to   the   battle,   but   soon   he   was   staring   straight   into   the   shimmering   eyes   of   the   beast.   two   deadly   black   onyxes,   trained   upon   him   and   his   squire. this   was   not   the   time   to   retreat,   to   remember   his   children   that   were   scattered   across   the   map.   instead,   edmure   stood   strong,   felt   the   heels   of   his   boots   sink   into   mud   surrounding   them.   sunwing   was   battered,   beaten,   broken,   but   even   an   injured   dragon   was   a   formidable   fighter.   he   searched   for   weakness,   for   any   sign   that   the   monster   was   failing.   despite   arrows   jutting   out   at   strange   angles   across   its   back,   slashes   and   gouges   and   broken   scales,   there   seemed   no   end   to   the   skirmish. edmure   shot   a   quick   glance   backwards,   a   fleeting   and   silent   ask   whether   aila   was   okay.   of   course   they   were   hurt   —   he   was   not   blind   to   the   explosion   of   red   on   their   sleeve   —   but   a   flesh   wound   was   much   different   to   a   life - ending   one.   his   gaze   was   trained   upon   them,   and   it   was   only   when   sunwing   shrieked   again   and   lunged   that   edmure’s   stupor   was   broken.   blade   swung   through   the   air   in   a   heavy   silver   arc,   colliding   with   the   thick   neck   of   the   creature,   drawing   blood   that   was   thicker   than   sap.

sunwing shrieks in pain and fury, the danger of a cornered animal that will do utterly anything to ensure survival. aila turns in time to watch the dragon thrash about, its giant wing slamming into lord edmure and sending the aged knight through the air, landing hard with the most awful sound she's ever heard. "lord edmure!" get up, get up, get up. was he dead? how could house fossoway recover from this? please get up. he did not seem to be completely still and that was relief enough when there was a dragon to slay. the preemptive grief, rage, and fear overtakes reason and they charge forward, dodging the dragon's wing and aiming for the gaping wound left by edmure's blade.

aila slashes again, and again, alternating hands, strike after strike, weaving and redirecting. she hears sunwing's cries and in another world, perhaps she'd have sympathy, but this creature will be the death of them all. it's one deep strike that lodges her sword in the dragon's tough flesh and it refuses to budge, the laceration on her arm impacting grip strength. there's no time to hesitate when they feel the raise in temperature. she turns and faces sunwing, ready to spew flames, blinded, but able to target the annoying gnat twisting a blade lodged in her neck.

in later days, aila would think back to this moment and remember the blood running down sunwing's eyes from the wounds that blinded her and think to themself that it looked almost as though the dragon, herself, was crying. but reflex kicks in.

move or burn.

move. move fast. now.

now.

she leaps. always light on their feet, they hoist themselves up with ease aided by adrenaline and decades of training, using her own sabre as a stepping stool, landing firmly on the dragon's neck. seven fucking hells, fuck, fuck fuck. in one motion, she retrieves her trusted dagger and buries it between two scales, pushing it deep into sunwing's flesh and keep it as a anchor. the beast thrashes and aila channels every bit of horseback riding knowledge, anything and everything to keep herself from being thrown off, slashing at the dragon's neck, again, again, again, again.

it's working. the dragon seems to be losing strength. she hears the voices of the other fights but words do not register. will this be over soon? her final blow over the repeated target cuts deep as she throws her full weight and momentum behind it. the moment stalls. she cannot see past the dragon's massive body but finally, the beast seems to buckle and drop to the ground, dead? dying? she doesn't know.

sunwing's collapses, taking aila down to the ground with them. the tully holds onto with every bit of life left in her, waiting for the dragon to take its next breath. it doesn't. she lingers, breathing hard, covered in dragon's blood. had they done it? it's only when she catches somone speak her name that she slides off the beast, feeling the shakes starting to settle in now that the worst of the battle appears to be over.

aila staggers. mind catching up to body. somehow they find their way back to lord edmure. the squire in them always seeking out the comfort of a mentor, of their pseudo parent when away from home, who was alive.

"i-it's dead." are they merely imagining it? exhaustion calls to them, they wish to crumble where they stand. chaos still around. injured. dead. dying. everyone fleeing. where were her parents? amerei? uncle mor? she had't seen any of them. "i... i need to find my family. i-it's not over... i have to..." they turn towards the stands, terrified of what they'll find when the dust settles.

you barely have the time to cling to your futile worries when the next words spill from her pouty mouth. lady helvis had been seen cocooning with the hightowers, it seemed, and so did her brood. but talking can scarcely mean betrayal, can it? one should still be able to navigate matters of court diplomatically. what makes seraphina worry so, about helvis' proximity to her family's banner, you wonder. "did you happen to know what was spoken between them?" you ask, one brow raised. well, it would not be unseemingly either; mara had deserted you for less. maybe it had been because you spent so long without one, that family felt like something sacred. not being able to conceive ever repaying with a blade to the back those who sheltered you, fed you, cared for you, loved you. "i do not fault your siblings for following in the footsteps of their lord father, if that's what you're asking. it is what we are meant to do as children."

"and your intentions about legitimizing the bastards of noble birth? of shiera and her siblings? lord alester fell into the bay's depths and it places them all at risk." the most pressing issue following harlon's appointment, what protections are in place for taliesin? what place do any of them have at court. "if the bastards who share blood are perceived by the realm as less than, any action that supports that insinuation puts yourself at risk. how many will find the opportunity to question your legitimacy as heir without blood of the dragon in your veins?" it's harsh, perhaps. and out of her rights as a mere lady in service to the house as their informant to speak out of turn. yet, it's as close as she can come to express her one other real desire.

"what else would they speak of? lady helvis's faith is no secret, my father will use it to his advantage. princess delfina was made aware of my father's interpretation of the teachings, masquerading and twisting faith to further his ambitions." no, details were not hers to have nor share. but one could make inferences, offer the information and allow maekare to draw the conclusions. "it doesn't help that two of three baratheon triplets are plagued with burns from dragon flame."

now   there   were   names   provided.   elyas   and   helvis   have   been   speaking   together   —   a   convincing   of   which   delfina   was   certain   would   cement   something   akin   to   friendship.   it   was   practically   lost   to   them.   the   path   unfolds   with   cracks   and   bloodied   seams,   and   it   becomes   black   and   bitter   in   her   mouth.         “        how   easily   friendship   is   persuaded   away.   so   it   seems   similar   in   what   you   refer   to   with   the   new   ruling   lady   of   the   crag.   i   can   do   very   little   until   i   am   seated   upon   the   throne   itself,   but   know   that   my   first   missive   would   be   to   title   those   who   have   none.   their   futures   will   be   secured   to   my   personal   limits.        ”        it   must   be   understood   that   no   legitimacy   could   happen   except   in   the   hands   of   someone   who   was   to   sit   on   the   throne    —    but   perhaps   the   agreement,   the   terms,   would   settle   enough   for   now,   provide   a   bit   of   comfort. “        you   will   need   a   way   out   if   it's   discovered   what   you've   done   for   me.   amerei   might   be   of   interest   to   you   and   your   future,   if   you   are   in   need   of   further   numbers.        ”        she   mulls   this   over.   how   it   confirms   what   maekara   told   her,   how   what   she   posted   in   the   missive   to   dragonstone   must   therefore   become   law.   a   musing   continues   as   she   exists   in   this   limbo,   where   she   cannot   yet   do   anything   and   yet   also   must   do   something.        “        i'll   arrange   it.   if   you   can   snag   the   other   waters,   which   i   do   believe   should   be   easy   if   you   speak   of   such   betrayal   …   alliances   are   powerful   even   non-noble.        ”        a   thin   smile.        “        let   no   one   speak   over   you,   seraphina.   you   wield   more   power   than   you   know.        ”        or   perhaps   she   does   know,   and   that   was   what   made   her   so   dangerous   and   informative.   it   settles   delfina   in   a   way.

she'd follow the princess through hell or high water. and if there were ever a reason akin to losing the princess to the waters deep, then seraphina would do her best to stay the course and serve the targaryen daughters with what she could, unless external circumstances forced otherwise. "thank you, princess delfina. truly. i'll do as promised. i hope the house of the dragon prevails against her enemies."

The thought of their running away gripped her with fear. No, he cannot leave me now! A sole contestant made for poor allies. Addam's sword and title may take him across the realm; love, or whatever this was, take Tal. Then what would come of Shiera?

She swallowed her wine and her complaint in one breath, and looked squarely at Lady Seraphina. "It is kind of you to approach me as an ally and a friend, my lady, but in truth I fail to understand what it is you wish to ask of me. Is it merely a sister's blessing? I will offer it happily where it is Taliesin's wish. If it is truth you seek, I have none to offer you, when I was the one who remained in the dark." Another bite to her tongue, harsh. Shiera forced her gaze away and to the window, where little light shone through that told her anything of worth. She was least equipped in the court of hearts. Even now she could not make whether Lady Seraphina spoke true—if Lord Hightower's daughter could mean her words of alliance with bastards and Targaryens. But if she did… if she did, could Shiera afford to reject her?

Could she, even if Lady Seraphina lied? "I make a poor friend at the moment, Lady Seraphina. But if you love my sibling true… you will have my loyalty, just as they do."

"If you'd want to stay here, then what is it you wish? I have minimal influence but I'd like to accommodate and try." Try being the key word. "I would think House Darklyn could be persuaded to other family members, what use do two noblewomen have for three names? If they wish to argue blood, how could they disregard you and your siblings in favor of any future adopted heirs?" Her father held onto old tradition, the importance of blood and there were moments when she wondered if she had simply had the babe that the little one that was half of her, a quarter of Lord Perceon, himself, would have been enough.

"I wasn't intentionally careless with Taliesin's heart these past years." Excuses, excuses, excuses. "I didn't dare think that I lingered in their mind the same they had mine. But we've reconnected, promised to speak only truths with one another. You extended your love and care to Falyn who is closer to me than any of my siblings. I wish to return it."

rarely  in  her  adulthood  has  akira  witnessed  mizuki  like  this.  frazzled,  despondent,  crying.  watching  her  slide  to  the  floor,  hs  heart  breaks.  he  bore  the  weight  of  their  parents'  disappointment,  but  she  always  carried  their  expectations  and  their  bloody  hope  for  the  gods'  messages.  but  it  wasn't  only  their  hope,  was  it?  it  was  their  family's,  and  the  swarm  of  people  their  family  led,  all  desperate  for  guidance,

akira  swallows.  slowly,  he  sits  beside  mizuki,  careful  of  his  injury.  they  are  not  close  enough  to  truly  touch,  but  in  the  uneven  rhythm  of  their  breaths,  their  arms  may  nearly  brush  by  one  another.

"i  need  not  ever  ask  you."  he  murmurs.  "not  on  the  morrow,  nor  the  next  day,  nor  ever  again."  his  gaze  to  the  ceiling  as  he  speaks;  past  the  stone  rests  a  sky  of  stars  where  each  of  their  gods  is  housed.  watching  them  all  as  he  does  them.

do  they  ever  bring  mizuki  comfort?

"you fought a dragon." the warning she had given him, what if she hadn't? he had an injury easily enough healed in the grand scheme of the world and time and what if she does not see, does not know? mizuki turns to hide her face in akira's shoulder. he is alive. he is here. shizuka is alive. ren is alive. but she blurts out. "the fire still burns. water stills gives and takes life."

"i've seen a fallen dragon." she takes akira's hand, holding tight. "she's dead. strangled by fate, by tragedy, by their own folly." the dreams are stronger than ever, but she feels so much further from the old gods. will they punish her? are they abandoning her when she searches blindly for that familiar gaze and presence? she lifts her head to look upon her older brother, more gentle and present a parent than their own who treated her as an entity than daughter.

growing up in riverrun, they tried to be good with lessons from the maesters and septa, but aila's memory was only stellar with topics of genuine interest. most histories were dull. they could name some of the most niche battles across the realms but likely not betrothals and lineages. they preferred stories told by people than reading them on the page. maths had been best if there was a reason for it, without the ink on parchment blended together. it's why they'd ask to squire, figured if that was where talent lay, baba and mama had said her birth parent was a skilled warrior. then she'd be of use, do good.

there were so few memories of them. her diē and niáng. a child's memory held feelings and a handful of moments. but if asked about her parents, it is the tullys' visages that come to mind. brynden is around the same age as she was when she lost them. the only memory aila has concretely of her niáng is feeling a warmth while a woman with a blurred face, sharing the same raven hair, humming a melody while braiding her hair. she isn't sure if it's something she made up when gifted a hair piece on her nameday. but she treasures it anyway. is that all brynden would have? memories rebuilt from the stories they'll tell of amerei?

aunt sabitha's scolding pulls an exhausted wandering mind back. the sentiment clear even dressed in frustration. the confession of love and care from likely the family member who oft had the most to critique, who intentionally or not sparks the most of aila's doubts tightens their chest. the self-made demand to not cry becomes even more challenging. "sorry." they repeat, meaning it every single time. apologies always found their way too easily on their lips. when the maester is satisfied with their work, aila raises slowly from their seat and towards their aunt. "i'll go back and rest if you and brynden come with me."

aila presses a kiss atop her sleeping nephew's head and lingers for moment. they put their good arm around their aunt, careful to not disturb the toddler in her arms. "i'm glad you're here and safe." they mumble into the embrace. the terror that gripped aila when racing towards the crumbled stands once the dragon lay dead, fearing they were too late, would only find ruin and death. the frantic search for someone, anyone, to see with their own eyes that they were not to be alone in the world again, that gods would not be so cruel to take them all in one fell swoop. "i love you too, aunty sabi. so very, very much." if a stray tear or two glides down their cheek, she plans to pretend otherwise.

"I love you too, Aunty Sabi. So very, very much."

...When had been the last time someone had said as much to her? In her self enforced solitude, in her rise in responsibility, in the way her watchful eyes counted gold with quill and parchment, made promises to herself to grow the money in their coffers under her own careful ministrations, to be of use, because Sabitha could never not be of use, even in defiance of her father. There has been steady drum in her heart for many years now at the thought of power over her house, control, dominion.

Where is the all consuming need right now? How can she fall victim so easily to a few sweetly uttered words, no calculation behind them, for little Aila is not capable of such. Who loves her still? She, who haunts Riverrun like a phantom, who glides about it like a falcon, ready to strike everyone in the keep, everyone in her family. She will not wish death upon herself; she is not so self sacrificial....Let Aila be the lamb. Aila and Grover and Amerei (Lady Mother, please bring her back.) are her idiot little lambs, and she the shepherd, pushing them down the right path.

She says nothing in return to her sweet little words, but shifts Brynden's sleeping form to one arm, and uses the other to tug Aila closer into her bosom. Her eyes steal one last look at Grover, before she declares, "Let us rest, then.", and shuffles the three of them out of the room delegated to him and into the one right next to it within the Tully chambers.

Her vial of sleeping aid twinkles in its place upon her nightstand, but she makes no move to take it, as she gently places the babe in the middle of the bed before pulling Aila onto one of his sides and laying upon the other. Her hand, now free, reaches across the child to drag slow fingers down her niece's dark hair (Like Amerei's, Amerei's, Amerei's), and she whispers, "Sleep well, little Aila." before she closes her eyes to the unbearable deerlike ones that look back at her.