#reworked)

Momo

TW; use of multiple explicit words, animal abuse/ cruelty(implied), Mentions of vomiting, nausea, and emetophobia. PTSD

Summary; Baelor’s daughter was brought to court, leaving Summerhall and her cousins behind. On her way to Ashford, she was reminded that the realm remained shadowed by the Blackfyres. Neither black dragons nor red ones forget. Some only wait for their turn again.

AU: Baelor has a daughter (instead of Matarys), Baelor does not die, Blackfyre rebellion is still thriving, Daeron x cousin/ Aerion x cousin (implied), Aerion is obsessed with her, Daeron is in love with her //Currently considering/Under thought -> The Spring Sickness //

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Chapter 5

Rain began to fall over Ashford as people scattered from the lists, the weight of what had just happened lingering heavier than the storm itself.

“I recon jousting is done for the day, come boy.” Duncan the Tall said, patting the shoulder of his squire Egg. 

As the tall knight and the small boy made their way across the bridge and towards the tents, a particular noise caught Dunk’s attention, causing both of them to halt. 

“Wait here.” He commanded the bold boy while he cautiously walked towards the direction of the noise.

To his surprise, Dunk found a girl bracing herself behind a large tree trunk; she was bent over, and the previous retching noise belonged to her. 

She had been sick. 

The girl was still breathing heavily when Dunk approached and carelessly placed his hand on her shoulder. The worry in him left no room for thought. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” His question had barely left him when the girl had reacted. 

Dunk had probably startled her because, as she turned around, he noted the silver blade that was now resting along his throat. Although much, much larger than her, Dunk was caught by surprise. It had come so quickly he couldn’t even react. 

“Wow, wow, it’s okay!” He held his hands up in surrender and took a step back.

”What do you want from me… what the fuck do you want?” The brown-haired girl barked at him. Yet her body did not match the hostile words. The tension lingered in her grip. She must have been crying so much that it was obvious even amongst the rain, yet even that didn’t change what Dunk thought of her at first — she was beautiful. 

The knight swallowed.

“I am sorry I scared you. I am not going to hurt you, just trying to help.” He responded, his eyes jumping between her and the dagger. 

A moment passed, and the girl finally eased her grip and withdrew the blade. Duncan stepped further back, giving the girl more space. He took a few deep breaths, watching her sheath the steel at the back of her hip. 

“I am Ser Duncan the Tall.” 

The young girl froze mid-motion.

“Ser Duncan the Tall.” She repeated before scanning him up and down with her eyes. “You are that hedge knight, the one my father allowed to enter the lists.” Dunk stared back at her in confusion.

“Your father?”, he asked.

That's when Duncan fully looked at her — really looked. She had long, dark brown hair and brown eyes. Yet something about her told him she was of importance. Had it been her beauty or the way she held herself, considering the situation? As his eyes lowered over her, he took note of her black dress hiding behind the thick fabric. Only someone possessing Lannister wealth or close to it could afford something like that. Yet the biggest shock followed after, when Dunk noticed the silver accents on her cloak leading up to a sigil neatly pinned at the front. 

His throat had suddenly become very dry. 

He’d seen her up at the pavilion, but she looked different close up, smaller, more vulnerable perhaps. 

“You— you are the princess. Prince Baelor is your father!” Duncan stared at her – wide-eyed. The princess stood there, watching him.

He had laid his hand on her – before knowing who she was of course, and yet it made him look away in embarrassment. 

Dunk lowered his head.

“My princess, I—I apologise—”, stumbling over his words.  He pressed a knee on the muddy ground, yet the princess stopped him before he could fully bend the knee.

“There is no need, Ser.” She had dismissed the formalities with a wave of her hand. 

Duncan felt further heat creeping up the back of his neck. The more she spoke, the more Dunk noticed the similarities between her and Prince Baelor.

He straightened up slowly as if awaiting a command or a scolding. Neither came from the princess. 

“Your father is a great man. I am forever in debt to him, princess.” He said with sincerity.

She only nodded her head as if agreeing to his comment.

“Yes, he is.” She spoke, and then much quieter… ”My cousin, however, not so much.” 

The words landed with Dunk, and he remembered what Egg had said just earlier. ‘That was no mishap.’ Duncan had witnessed it himself too, and by all accounts now, Aerion Targaryen was not a good man in his eyes. 

Not like Prince Baelor and definitely not like her.

He watched Baelor’s daughter as she straightened her clothes and proceeded to fix her hair despite the rainwater. Dunk’s eye landed on the grassy patch behind her. Now he was wondering whether the gruesome sight had made the princess sick.

“Was it that business with the horse?” He pointed behind her. 

The princess forced her gaze to turn in the direction he had gestured, before she snapped her head away as if understanding what he meant. 

“It’s quite all right, my boy squire was also affected by it.” He attempted to make less of it; all he wished was to help her. 

She narrowed her gaze at him, and her eyes flicked around like she was searching.

“Your squire?” She questioned him curiously. Dunk nodded.

“Yes, he is right….there” Yet when he had turned, the bold boy was not where he had left him — at the edge of the bridge. Dunk jerked his head around before walking a couple of steps left and then right again. 

He exhaled in defeat. “Where did he go?”

Not far.

“Egg” or Aegon V Targaryen had fled the moment Ser Duncan approached the Targaryen princess, for he had recognised her long ago. He knew his favourite cousin would by no doubt recognise him too — regardless of the hair or lack of it. The youngest prince simply was not ready to return to his old life just yet. So instead of staying put where Duncan had ordered him, he had quickly slipped between the tents and took cover behind an even larger tree than the one sheltering Duncan and his cousin. Using the tree as a cover, he was at a perfect distance where he could remain hidden yet watch and listen as well. 

Something had happened, something more than just Aerion and the horse.

“Perhaps he does not fancy you to be his knight and went to find another.” His cousin’s voice came from behind the knight. 

Aegon knew she was teasing Duncan. The Hedge Knight did not.

“What?” Dunk questioned at once, snapping his head back to her and his attention with it.

“No!” Duncan dismissed the princess’s words. “Egg would— He would never!” As Aegon listened to the knight defending him, a small smile appeared across his lips. Yet it dropped in an instant at the realisation.

“Egg?” Baelor’s daughter question sharp and curiously. 

Aegon froze.

“Oh no,” Aegon whispered to himself. There was no way she wouldn’t realise now. And he was right. A knowing smile crept along the princess’s lips, visible enough from a distance.  ‘Please hold your tongue, Ser Duncan!’

Dunk ignored her question completely and instead continued to defend his squire.

“I’d have you know, Egg is a loyal squire!” Duncan had stepped close to her again. “As loyal as they come.” 

Aegon noticed his cousin's smile deepen and the comment. 

She chuckled, obviously amused. “I bet he is.” 

As soon as the air had left her, however, the princess winced. Her hand darted up, just under her chest, and she bent over again, obviously hurting. 

Egg had already taken a step out from behind the tree, fully ready to discard his cover immediately, as the worry for his cousin flooded him.

Instead, Duncan was already by her side at once.

”What’s the matter? Do you need me to fetch a Maester?” He had asked, hovering and yet the Hedge Knight did not lay his hands on the princess again. 

She took a few deep breaths before dismissing the idea of calling for help. 

“I am quite all right.” She forced herself upright once more. “Probably just ate a bad cake at lunch.” 

Aegon knew she was lying; his cousin did not like cake, and she had never been sick either. 'What’s wrong? What had happened?’ Concern filled him as he remained hidden.

Uncle Baelor’s daughter had always looked out for him when the others would tease him, and even more when it had been his own brother tormenting him. A memory surfaced. She had been rather angry that day, once she found out what Aerion had done to him in the middle of the night.

—Flashback—

I held on to Daeron’s leg as we watched her storm into her father’s quarters in the middle of a small council meeting.

“Are you not going to stop her?” I questioned, looking up at my brother.

“I already tried Egg. You know how she gets.” Daeron patted my shoulder.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then….

“I want his hand for the offence on Aegon!” Her voice came harshly from behind the door. It made me jolt; I had never heard Baelor’s daughter raise her voice before. It had sounded more like a command than a request. 

“ ...next time, I will have his head!”

After that, she stormed out of the room, and the large door swung closed behind her. 

Daeron and I remained standing, watching her down the corridor a moment longer.

—Flashback End—

From behind the tree, Aegon watched her still. Helpless. 

”Are you certain?” Duncan’s voice pulled Egg back from the memory. 

The rain got heavier, and their voices flowed louder with it. The sick on the wet ground was being washed away, erasing any remnants of it ever existing.

“Yes, I am fine. Nothing to worry about.” But her voice was shaky as she said it.

Duncan exhaled in relief at her answer. It had been enough for the Hedge Knight; it was not enough for Aegon.

“Oh, good then, good. Would you care to join us for a drink?” She looked up at him then, surprised perhaps. 

Egg watched as Dunk reached up to his neck, scratching it nervously as if he had overstepped a boundary. 

The young boy could feel the embarrassment from here. 

“Thank you for the offer, Ser, but I think it's best I change out of these wet clothes.” She pointed at her now-soaked cloak, which had been sticking stubbornly to her dress underneath. “Perhaps another time.” She smiled at Dunk.

Duncan nodded quickly. “Of course! Yeah– Yes! Another time, princess.” His words choppy again. 

Aegon watched as his cousin walked past Duncan.

“It was good meeting you, Ser Duncan the Tall.” She had said and turned back for a moment. “And, I do apologise about the knife.” 

“Oh, it’s quite all right. It’s best you keep yourself safe.” She nodded at Duncan’s words, pulling the hood back over her wet hair. 

The splashing of her boots was quieter than their conversation had been, and Aegon and Duncan both watched her walk away back towards the castle.

Baelor’s daughter had, in fact, made her way towards her chambers, just as she had told the Hedge Knight she would. Yet somehow she found herself still standing in the rain long after. 

At the castle yard, while everyone had sought shelter, the young princess held her bow against her chest at the draw. Back straight, she aimed at the targets in front. 

The pain that had presented itself at her side earlier remained strong, and with it, feelings just as strong overwhelmed her. 

Her hands were no steadier than before. She forced another arrow between her fingers and let it fly. A perfect shot, had no one looked too closely. Archery was always able to calm her; the bow and its string were wet by now, and yet it did nothing to provide the girl with comfort. The princess prepared another arrow, taking a deep breath, trying to relax. It did not work, and yet she had hit the target successfully yet again.

The next arrow had already been resting on the beautifully carved bow; however, at the draw, it never flew. 

She stood frozen.

Muscles taut under her bruised skin as the images returned – Aerion’s lance lodged inside the animal’s neck. She blinked the rain away, willing the images to fade. For a moment, they did, and yet the sound had remained. The princess no longer knew if it was Ser Humfrey’s dying horse echoing in her ears or her own. 

‘What’s wrong with me?’

“Cousin.” 

The voice startled her. The arrow previously resting was let loose in one swift motion, striking the wooden wall behind Aerion’s head. 

He did not flinch.

He glanced towards it before quickly returning to her. 

He was standing under the shelter a fair distance away, no armour on now and yet all she saw when looking at him was the same madman from the lists.

She said nothing. Only reached for another arrow and nocked it, turning her attention back to the targets in front. Even if her cousin had been the real target, she wished to strike.

The next breath she drew was deeper, longer even, hoping once it left her, Aerion would have left with it. 

He did not.

“Did you like it?” His voice came back from the shelter. Her grip tightened for a moment.

Lowering the bow, she turned to face him again. Staring with disgust at her cousin.

“What?” 

“Well, you were watching, weren’t you? Did you enjoy the show?” Aerion asked, taking a step forward. She watched as he rested his back against the wooden pillar, crossing his arms.

The words weren’t what truly angered her. It had been the smugness he wore while speaking of his actions. The way he always appeared content and proud with what he had done. She wished to ignore it, pretend it did not affect her. But it did.

The princess took a deep breath, steadying herself before deciding to face her cousin.

Slowly, she set the bow down on the rack beside her. Aerion watched her turn to him, and with three large strides, she was beside him under the shelter.

“Is this all a joke to you?” She had barked at him. Aerion smirked at her reaction. 

She continued. “Do you like playing around with life and death that much – animal or human, does it bring you joy?”

He studied his cousin for a moment. It was in her eyes then; disgust, not just for him, but for the blood they shared. 

Aerion’s smile widened. “Well, yes, actually. It was rather fun.” 

Considering how his cousin might have reacted to the joust, this was rather expected. He wished to anger her further, to see how far he could push this time.

“Why do you always get like this? They are just pests. You reacted the same over Aegon’s cat, which I told you I had nothing to do with.” 

She did not move, just watched him with those judgmental eyes. 

And no anger came.

“I gave him that cat.” She held his eyes.

Blinking at her words, Aerion did not quite understand. He raised a brow in question.

“What?”

He shifted slightly as she stepped closer to him. Eyes unmoving as she spoke.

“The cat that you threw in the well, Aerion. I gave it to Egg for his seventh name day. He’d called it Balerion.”

He scoffed, “I didn’t fucking know that.” 

Would it have even mattered if he did? 

The memory of his cousin crying in the castle gardens that night, after the stupid animal died, suddenly made a lot more sense.

“You would have, had you actually attended the celebration that day. Was bedding some whore more important than your brother’s name day?” 

Aerion glanced away for a moment at the weight of her words before returning to her. 

He had intended to attend. He even made it past the front doors until he instantly spotted her among the crowd. She was sitting with Daeron, of course, drinking and talking, their shoulders brushing as she laughed loudly at something his brother had said. Both of them glowed in the light together, and it set his blood alight. She wasn’t completely wrong. The rest of the night blurred into wine and women. Aegon’s name day celebration was swiftly forgotten. 

Aerion had no quick or witty remark in response. He felt uncomfortable, and he hated it. He found little joy in dwelling on the past.

“And what of the horse? Surely you do not care for it the same.” He pressed.

“You could have ended it easily, cleanly; instead, you chose blood — all to cause a spectacle.” 

Good. So she understood.

Aerion’s mouth twisted in amusement at his cousin.

All was true; he could have ended it quickly, yet if he had, he wouldn’t have gotten to witness her like this.

His gaze shifted to the arrow she had fired at him earlier. Still lodged inside the wood, a reminder of her fire. He glanced once at her hands. Her fingers were shaking. And now he was even more curious. 

“It’s a horse. Why in seven hells do you care? They are only good for one thing – carrying better men on their backs.” He questioned once more. The need to know what his cousin was thinking was boiling inside him. 

She took a deep breath then and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Do you know what it’s like to feel your horse thrash beneath you as it dies?” She had asked.

Aerion looked at her, confused. What a ridiculous question.

“Of course not!” He stood straighter, snapping at her. “You speak as if you have.” His cousin did not flinch at his words or tone; she only held his gaze. 

A moment, then two. 

She was not responding. Yet her fingers had steadied. Her calm was unexpected, and it overwhelmed him.

He blinked, searching for an answer across her face.

‘You have.’ He wasn’t sure how long had passed until he finally understood the meaning behind her question. 

‘They killed your horse.’ The ambush, the men, they must have slaughtered it during the skirmish.

Aerion exhaled more heavily as the realisation settled deeper.

‘I made you relive it.’ What he did to Hardyng and his mount forced her to remember. 

Her eyes were burning through him still, and so he looked away.

Yet it had been for her, all of it. 

It had always been for her, for her attention, for her time. The horse, as well as every other ugly thing he ever did, had always been for her, because of her… right?

Or perhaps it was a poisonous lie he had told himself so often that he had begun to believe it. Perhaps all these years, he used her as an excuse, because it was easier than admitting he rather enjoyed what he had turned into.

“Tell me, Aerion. Did you actually enjoy that? Truly?” She had forced him back to the present. 

His eyes returned to her again. 

‘I don’t know. Maybe?…Yes?’

For once, he had no answer, or he chose to think he didn’t.

Yet the longer he stared at her, the more he found something in this – something that almost pleased him. If she thought he was truly gone, evil beyond repair, she would not have asked. She would not have looked at him like that, waiting. Perhaps she had never really dismissed him. Not entirely. Even if it was Daeron she fancied. 

And Aerion was nothing like his brother. Fire, tempered differently. The longer he thought about it, the more his pride returned. 

He is Aerion Targaryen. A dragon. 

Whatever Daeron had, he had it too, and suddenly Aerion wondered if she already knew that. 

Was that it? Was she trying to make him admit it fully – the blood, the violence, the enjoyment he felt from it – to attempt to draw the line between them more clearly?

Regardless, no answer came from him. A mistake all on its own.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter. Whatever your answer, you’ve proven one thing for sure: once a monster, always a monster.” Her words cut clean through the rain, piercing exactly where she had intended.

Yet to Aerion, somehow it had sounded like she did not fully believe her own words.

His cousin did not allow silence to sit between them, turning as she walked away from him. Aerion’s eyes followed her; her wet waves hit against her back before their sway suddenly died out, and she had stopped walking. His cousin turned halfway, barely looking at him. 

And then, as if landing the final blow. 

“Do the rest of the people at Ashford and me a favour, cousin and don’t enter the lists again. You’ve done enough to shame our house.” She blinked once and peeled her eyes from him. 

She resumed walking away, and Aerion watched as she stepped back under the pouring rain, crossing towards the castle. He waited until she was fully gone behind the stone walls and then smirked to himself. 

‘… had Daeron been here, he’d only bring shame to our house.’  

Those had been his words from last night. And she had just used them to strike back at him like it was nothing. The thought excited him dangerously. Gods, she was smart; loyal and cunning all at the same time, like a cleaner, much nicer version of Aerion himself. 

Two sides of the same coin; the coin being the blood of the dragon.

I’m Star or Starrie (Asher) I like Art, music and gaming, and animations!

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