#khaigar

The vision turned blurry and soon enough, strong calloused hands were rubbing the leaden eyelids that revealed orbs of a unique shade of lilac. He stifled a yawn and looked about the cabin in his half-asleep state. Even as the first ray of daylight made its way through the small circular window, the dreary memory of the nightmare lay heavy in his mind.

He made his way out of bed, slowly with the pace of laziness he was known for. He reached for an empty cup and poured in a liquid from a jug, his face cringing at the mistake of drinking a cup of whiskey instead of water. Where had the water gone?

He closed his eyes as the strong liquid invaded his mouth and made its way to his throat. Strong and not in any way smooth. He was momentarily distracted by the slow rocking of his cabin, the steady pace at which the ship was making its journey, and the sound of the waves making its way along with them. A day and a half had past. His thoughts were in a state of nothingness until it was plagued with the chaos of the previous night’s dream. Never had a dream struck him before, and it kept striking him for fifteen long years. He could still imagine the look on his father’s face, hard and stern with a voice known for its coldness. He adored him once. Now the last remaining shred of emotion he had for him was one of regret. And with a small hint of loathing, if he could admit it to himself. He poured himself another cup, forgetting yet again that it was not water. And despite the emptiness of his stomach he swallowed. His thoughts were more revolting than the taste of liquor. He knew he’d regret it later on that morning, and he blamed the people in his vision for it, no matter how petty. Damn the man. Damn his blood. And damn him for being his seed.

“There is nothing older, or stronger, than royal blood.”

The words echoed in his thoughts yet again as he made his way to dress. It was a memory fifteen years passed. A memory of a holding burnt to the ground, of the sea that looked like a never ending black abyss, and yet somehow made beautiful by the red and orange reflections of the flame. Rumors spread that a candle set a hut ablaze and eventually burned the whole area. Even the children knew that was a lie. They made an enemy of their family and what better way to dispose of an enemy but through the Tagaryen way. The one and only way of death.

He remembered the look on his father’s calculating face, of his mother’s that held him and his sister tight on that doomed night, and his two little cousins holding each other’s hands near them, gripping each other,  of the only thing they were sure of.

It was, on any normal circumstance, a warm sight. A healthy family sharing the same fire, the same hearth. But they were far from any normal family. That was the very thing the elders reminded them of every day of their exiled lives.

He was merely five, Aeryl four. Their cousins too, just mere toddlers. But they were royal blood and they knew it. Blood of the old Valyria ran through their veins as sure as the currents ran from one ocean to another. It was all the proof they needed, and any one could see, even the blindest of men, that it was true.

“When you are old enough you will understand.” Lord Jobaeron Targaryen’s voice filled the room. His eyes were looking at his son, the heir. Himself. Even then, as a child,  five meager years after his first nameday, Khaigar never wanted any of it. That they, never wanted any of it. Why must the children suffer for their parent’s transgressions?

“We are the last,” his darling mother used to tell him as she stroked his white, silvery locks, after the spectacle of the night died down. A look of pity cast upon an unwilling subject. Of regret for past mistakes. “And for that I am sorry.”

But that was fifteen years back. When his mother used to stroke his hair and tuck him into bed. When he still had high regards for his father. When he was just a child. What was he now, he wondered. He felt more lost than ever.

And right before he could poison his mind with ill thoughts once again, the wooden door flew right open and in came the person that vexed him, and yet made him all the more happy.

“Dressed yet? Our sisters are waiting for us.”

Khai smiled gently at Nizah, who was at first hesitant to close the door behind them. With his breeches loose on his waist and shirt still unbuttoned, he could not help but feel exposed.

Before he could blink he felt a wooden something hit the back of his head.

“What was that for?!”

“You good for nothing idiot. Seriously, must I do everything?” Niza heaved a long sigh as she slowly made his way to him. He was rubbing the sore part of his head while she slowly buttoned his shirt. As her eyes never strayed from her task, his eyes never left her. It made the ache go away, he discovered years back, just to look at her. Her eyebrows knit together when she placed a button in the wrong hole and proceeded to do the process all over again. 

The ship made a rocky intermission that threw them out of balance, but Khai’s strong, swift reflexes held her in place, much too close…much too close. He held her firmly as she tried to straighten herself, her grip leaving small wrinkles on his shirt. His eyes never left her.

A moment of silence, of crashing waves and seagulls in the far distance… he was smiling while she was pouting. And before she could say something to blame him or even hit him again, he silenced her with a swift, gentle kiss on the lips. 

“Thank you, darling.” He grinned as he put his doublet on and tightened his belt.

The lady who was taken aback only glared at him once more. On any normal circumstance, she would have given him a smack on the head or an insulting remark to hurt his ego. But she remembered the reason she was sent to his cabin so early in the morning.   

“Our sisters are waiting for us, cousin. Hurry your ass now.” And with one final punch to his shoulder, she turned around and widened the distance between them by closing the door shut. The ship once again rocked causing him to hit his hip on the wooden table. A few bruises before breakfast was just a normal day for Khaigar. If one morning passed that he was not hit, punched, or kicked by anything or by Niza, then it was considered abnormal.

He looked adoringly at the door while he was fastening his sword to his belt. A pure white Valyrian sword with a black hilt fashioned with rubies. He was yet to name it. His thoughts wandered to Niza again, and made haste to join her and the rest of their family for breakfast. On a normal morning, he would be chasing her around the castle, annoying her, and calling her his lover for all the world to hear. On normal mornings he’d get more than a bruise.

The singular joy of his life. And he thanked all the gods for her every day and every morning, bruises and all.

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“You were late so we ate all the food,” Aeryl told her brother without any hint of regret.

“We had a few leftovers though, but we thought it best to have it sent below deck, where your ass is.”

Nizah looked to her sister Faey and took a sip from her cup. “The donkey must be lonely down there, don’t you think so?”

“Not as lonely as this man’s face.” Faey remarked.

Khaigar had lost them at “we ate all the food” and was now about to throw a fit (like any normal morning) when the cook barged in with a heavy tray of breakfast.

“Oops, we lied.” Aeryl said coolly as she grabbed a piece of smoked bacon.

“How many times must I repeat myself? Never make a joke of food. Never.” But it was hard to take him seriously when he was talking with a mouthful of salted pork.

The cook stopped to bow before he left, stealing a glance then closing the small wooden door. Every one would stare at them if they would let it. They were a sight to behold. Four pairs of purple and lilac orbs, four heads with soft white, silvery locks, four Targaryens in one adequate dining room inside a ship big enough to carry a whole village. They were exiled years back, yes, but that never stopped them from making money.

“Why break the fast so early in the morning? You of all people would be sleeping late until noon.” Khai asked once he swallowed his mouthful.

“Mother would be so proud to see us all up and early,” said Nizah, who only shrugged after a while and took a sip of orange juice she had battled away from Khai.

“I called all of you here today to discuss important matters,” came Faey’s voice that was obviously still heavy with drowsiness.

“Oooh, you sound like father,” Aeryl giggled, and the rest of them followed.

“Children, please!”

“Hey I’m older than you!”

“You don’t act like it.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“What? You’re supposed to be siding with me.”

“And this is why we are a malfunctioning family….”

Every one looked to Aeryl who was sipping her coffee, stirring it a few times like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Everybody continued to argue and Khaigar could only smile. They were only able to be like this when they were alone. In the castle they were guarded, serious and disciplined under the eyes of their parents and the lords and ladies. They acted like responsible heirs in public, and they were more than convincing. But left alone the four of them were a menacing group. Children who were never given a proper childhood, and they carry what’s left of it even in adulthood. Who could blame them though.

“As I was saying,” Faey continued, “the Captain has put it upon himself to inform me on a rather ungodly hour some…rather unfortunate news.” She let the suspense hang in the air while she took her time slathering butter on her bread.

“…and?”

“Well, our anticipated arrival at King’s Landing was marked three days after setting sail, but due to the storm the Captain saw it fit to stop at the nearby harbor and wait it out.”

“There’s a storm?” Niza asked, intrigued. “Interesting.”

“It’s not interesting. It’s a nuisance.” Faey responded to her sister’s statement. “And that’s not the only thing.”

“What else?” asked Khai.

“A raven arrived in the black of dawn saying that my uncle, your Lord father would be unable to attend the wedding, leaving all of us the responsibility.” Khai could sense Faey’s thoughts were drifting back to her mother, his aunt, who was left on Cowdragonstone, too ill to sail at sea.

Aeryl clicked her tongue, eyebrows furrowed directly at her coffee as it became less and less interesting. “I expected him to be late, but to be unable to attend? Won’t the king be…insulted?”

It was difficult to be family with a business tycoon.

Khai plucked a grape from the tray. “Father has something up his silky sleeves, I’m sure of it.” Aeryl could only nod.

“And there’s more.” Faey said. She took one long sip from her cup before continuing, leaving them all in an annoying silence. She cleared her throat before voicing out the taboo words.

“ANNUEL LANNISTER.”

Niza gave an exaggerated gasp before falling in a fit of laughter. “You need not worry sister,” she said in between laughs, “I’m sure mother was just joking about that match. It was just a suggestion from that lord with the crooked nose.”

“Besides,” Khai added, “would we really let you be married off to a Lannister?” Even the thought of it made Khai and the rest of the table cringe. It would only lead to a slow and agonizing death. And besides, dragon does not wed a mere lion.

“Its mother we’re talking about here. Mother.” She emphasized, like the word held so much evil. Faey swallowed her drink with one big gulp, remembering Lady Shaela’s plotting face.

  Aeryl gave her cousin a reassuring glance before finishing off what’s left of her plate. “Well, as interesting as this morning was, Niza and I will be retreating back to our cabins.”

“What? Why?” Khai pouted.

Niza pulled her chair and got to her feet. “We want to finish some potions before we arrive at port.”

“Witchcraft,” remarked Khai.

“Science.” Aeryl corrected. “Well, we’re off.”

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The room fell silent as the two women made their exit. On a normal morning the two of them who were left would still be bickering until an outside force could stop them. They were the lively ones of the bunch. In fact, people would often mistake them as siblings and not as cousins, their personalities so similar you would think they were twins. Loud and rambunctious they were. But it was not a normal morning.

“I won’t allow it, you know.” Khai told her, barely a whisper. The light in the room seemed to have disappeared and all that’s left was a looming shadow. There really was a storm brewing.

“I know.” She responded. And then silence.

He remembered the morning he told her he was in love with Niza. They were only ten. Too young to even acknowledge emotions such as love for man and woman, and yet bizarrely, they knew it better than anyone could comprehend. He remembered the look on Faey’s face that he couldn’t quite understand.

“I knew, and yet there was nothing I could have done to prepare myself for this.” She would tell him after, her voice quivering with what felt like sadness. Unbeknownst to him, he had broken her young heart. He never understood until a few years later. The morning he told her he was in love, Faey had risen from her seat and without hesitation convinced her mother to break the engagement between the both of them. A few hours later it was announced that the eldest Targaryen son was no longer betrothed to the elder cousin, but the other one. He confided in her like he always did. That morning, and all mornings to come, he would be eternally grateful to her. And he knew of her feelings years only later when he came to manhood, her assuring him that they were fleeting emotions that had already gone. The statement more to convince herself than him. That was why, he would find her a perfect match. The Lannister scum would never deserve her. Not in a million winters.