Cregan Stark X Fem!reader - Blog Posts

Alright time to cry 🤭

Chapter 22 Hanging tree medley

Chapter 22 of Moonlight

A/N- ;) Closer and closer to our boy Cregan

Warning- VIOLENCE, GRUESOME DEATH, swearing, talks of pregnancy, and blood, angst!!, fluff, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 462-463

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

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*3 DAYS LATER*

Dull blackened walls. Leaking roof. Rain, rain, and more stupid rain for 3 days!

Besides, seeing Alys for breakfast, lunch, and dinner all that you have is stupid dull walls, a leaking roof, and rain! All because of Aemond! All because he’s under some stupid mind trip! You don’t know how much longer you can take it, you don’t want to stay trapped in the same stupid four walls or you’ll go mad! You need to get out, you desire it with every fiber of your being, but there’s no way out besides the front door and that’s heavily guarded.

All that you have as an alternative instead is staying busy inside your chamber while it’s day. Yet when you’re awake you think of what Aemond did and tears escape your eyes, so you sleep. Sleep and dream apparently.

Of what? You don’t know, but it’s clear though. You’re in some unknown house with the sun casting through a window, looking out at a cobbled street, and a clean and beautiful white house. You want to feel the sun on your skin after being stuck under gloomy skies for so long, but ‘tis a dream. You can only see the sun dancing on your fingertips.

“Laenor.”

You freeze with your hand reaching for the beam of light and hold your breath as if any slight movement that you make will make this dream disappear.

“Stop! What are you doing?! You know you can’t go!”

The voice is familiar, but no matter how hard you try to connect it to a memory of someone, you’re unable to find it in your mess of a mind.

Footsteps quickly approach soon thereafter though, but you remain frozen. Even more so as you wonder if what you’re dreaming of isn’t some dream at all, but something made by Alys. A vision of the past foretold in a dream.

“You can’t stop me Qarl,” a different voice counters in a faltering sharp voice. And this voice, unlike the other one, is easy to connect to a person. This voice…belongs to your father. You can’t forget it no matter how much you have tried—“I need to go. I am going to see her,” you hear your father add before you see his figure in the corner of your eyes as he approaches the front door.

You want to look, you want to see him, and you know you will because this dream is too clear, too vivid for it to be a figment of the inner workings of your mind, but the best you can do is lower your hand back to your side and let out a shaky breath.

You can’t look, not even as another pair of footsteps quickly make their way over before slamming the door shut.

“What if you are caught, huh?” Qarl, the man with the voice you can now identify, argues. “Do you think that 5 years is enough for people to forget how you look?”

“I don’t…” your father trails off and you hear his feet shift against the wooden panels. You think that he’s going to follow up with something quickly, but the silence lingers, making you grow insatiably curious to the point you slowly turn and finally see him; it’s the side of his face, but it’s him and he’s so much thinner, he has eye bags, and sunken in cheeks. He almost looks sickly. Is he?

“I don’t need to make some big public announcement,” your father's voice quivers. “Qarl, I just need to see her. It’s been five years, she should have returned from Winterfell already, meaning she’s in King’s Landing, which leaves me the perfect opportunity to see her without getting caught.”

“That’s if you can even get near, it’s been five years, Laenor. She’s changed, the girl you knew is gone. What if it’s not possible to see her?” He queries and lifts his brows to press him to answer, but your father just scoffs and lets a faint smile appear on his face.

“I do not care if she’s changed,” he retorts and lets his bag slip from his arm. “I welcome it. I just need to see her, Qarl. I’m dying and all that occupies my mind is her. I…dream of her. She fills my every thought. Her. My daughter. My little girl.”

His words are simple. They’re so simple, but oh do they have a way to puncture your chest and make it ache. No matter how upset you want to be over the choices he made, at this very moment as you hear him, as you see him desperately pleading, you can’t stay upset. Not even a bit.

“I made her,” he says shakily with a wobbly smile to match his shaky words. “Me. She's the best part of me and I left her behind. You don’t know what that feels like, the guilt that torments me so, because she’s not your daughter. You’re not a father, but I am and I left her,” he cries as he touches his chest.

“I left them, and now I’m dying so all I need is just to see her,” he continues softly. “I don’t need her to see me even though I wish it. I don’t need to embrace her even though I dream it. I just need to see her from afar, I just need to make sure she’s okay and happy. If I die there in the stinking city then at least I would have gotten to see her one last time, so no Qarl you cannot stop me. I’m going so you can either stay or come with me.”

He was coming to see you. After you had all this doubt about his love for you, he was going to come see you before he died.

He still left you behind and made you believe he was dead, but he still thought of you, he still loved you after all that time, how can you stay mad at that? How can you forsake him when he has never forsaken you?

Albeit does that really aid your agonized soul? No, it still aches, perhaps even more so now that you know this truth. But past that agony that you feel, a part of you doesn’t hurt as much as it used to when you thought he forgot about you. A part of you feels at ease and healed, and it’s thanks to Alys.

For whatever reason, whether from the kindness of her own heart or a tactic used to motivate you out of your depressed state, you’re thankful and motivated. You can say that you will actually fight to get out now.

However, no matter how much you do wish to escape this past vision given to you through your dream, you can’t. You can’t leave yet. Instead, your surroundings slowly change. Where there were once walls from a house, now there’s an endless horizon, sand beneath your feet, and crashing waves against the shore.

Confusion is quick to take over you, polluting your every thought until you hear violent hacking from behind you. After that curiosity slowly creeps through, making you turn and freeze in horror when you see the vast ocean scene polluted by the remnants of a wrecked ship. Which means the hacking you heard…

You don’t want to see who’s lying on the sandy ground. You don’t want to, but you must, so you turn around slowly, and there on the ground lies your father, bleeding out from a puncture wound in his stomach.

“Father!” You cry out and before you know your feet carry you to him and you fall by his side. “Papa,” you whisper and reach over to grab his face and tilt it over.

When his eyes find you before him, face to face, his gaze begins to narrow as he seems to try and work out if you’re real.

“It’s me,” your whisper quivers. “It’s me. Your little Siren. Papa. You must know it’s me.”

His eyes slowly soften, making his pupils dilate, whilst his lips tug to a relieved smile. “It’s you. My little Siren.”

“Papa,” you mewl.

He chuckles out of joy and doesn’t hesitate cupping your face. “Look at you,” he coos. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young lady.”

You break into a smile and stroke his cheek. “Papa…I thought…I thought you didn’t love me. I thought you left me behind because you didn’t like me.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, no. How could I ever hate you? I love you. That’s why I left, you must know.”

You nod. “Yes, I know,” you assure him and keep stroking his cheek. “I know. I have so much to tell you, like—like you’re a grandfather. Aerion is my boy's name. He’s so beautiful.”

His smile softens, and he pulls your face towards him so you can press your foreheads against each other. “Will you…sing me a song? One last…time,” he whispers.

You nod as tears crawl out of your eyes. Yet before you can even think of a song to sing, his grip slips from your cheeks, and his head falls back limply as he takes his last breath.

“Father!” You weep. “Father, please don’t leave me again. Papa!” You cry out and slide your hands down to shake his shoulders. “Papa! Please, please.”

No amount of pleas will bring him back, you know that. It’s just a vision of the past, you know that, but you still try your hardest. “Please, papa. Please you must live. You must stay. You have so much to see, like Aerion. You have to meet Aerion and the twins. Please papa. Please.”

It’s no use though. His heart isn’t beating and no breaths escape past his lips. He’s gone, and all you can do with what little time remains is bury your face in the crook of his neck.

When he slips away and the scenery follows, you wake up to the dull and blackened walls, you wake up with your cheeks pampered in tears, but a fury lit within you that makes you want to fight your way out. After all, you’ve proven that you can. Even if you’re pregnant you can do it because you can’t stay here a moment longer. You need to leave, you need to see Aerion, and most importantly not be here when Aemond returns.

Thus after you take a deep and shaky breath, and wipe the tears off your cheeks, you slip off the bed. And since you have no weapons you simply walk to the doors with the intent to lure inside one of the guards standing outside the doors.

However, when your hand hovers over the knob a thud hits the door making your shoulders jump and a breath to escape past your lips.

What are they doing out there you wonder. And to satisfy your curiosity you lean forward with your breath held to peek through the crack between the doors, noticing your guards dead on the ground and two strange men standing over them with different colored outfits that don’t match the guards left to protect you. These men also have a more rugged appearance and don’t use armor like your men do. Are they Rivermen?

They must be, and you can’t take it for chance. If they’re here killing your men after Aemond and the army left then they’re not here on good terms, and it’s doubtful that whoever is leading them will let you have your freedom.

If it was you leading these men here then you would take yourself as a prisoner; you’re valuable on both sides, and unless they’re stupid then they’ll take you captive and cut some deal with your Mother or Aemond.

Which means you have to go to Astraea and leave at last, so with that in mind you quickly search your chambers and when you find a dark corner to hide in to get a jump on them, you start to move to it.

Yet just as you make it past the door, they swing open and the men make themselves in, ruining your chance to hide.

“Your Grace,” one of the men greets you mockingly and bows their head.

You’re at a standstill so you just pierce a glare into them and try to find something to use against them as they immediately become combative, proving they’re not stupid.

“We saw the purple dragon fly out and assumed you were gone,” the second man says, telling you at that moment Astraea must have gone hunting, she wouldn’t leave otherwise. Not while you’re here against your will—“We came into the castle, saw the guards, and thought nothing of it until there were two at the door. Must be our lucky day that the Kinslayer didn’t take his wife with him.”

You can’t find something to use against them, not while they both have swords, so you start to inch toward the doors.

“If you’re going to take me captive do it,” you try to end your torture. “At your own risk, you are Rivermen, you serve under the Queen, and she won’t be happy to hear you took her only daughter captive.”

The men look at each other unaffected by your threat and one of them proves that. “Aye, she won’t. Neither will the Kinslayer find joy in hearing his wife got taken, but Lady Frey wants Harrenhal, I imagine either of them will grant us the keep and the lands for you. Whoever does it first gets you back and gets our support.”

Lady Frey? As in Lady Sabitha Frey?

Of course, the Frey’s are up to no good.

Regardless, you don’t want to let Aemond respond to their deal first. He is closer so he will arrive here faster. And if he does he’ll only leave you in the same predicament someplace he will deem safer, which will be probably someplace like Oldtown or somewhere your mother nor anyone else would dare attack, and even thinking of being kept locked away in some isolated place terrifies you more than what these men could do, so you have to reach Astraea. But first, you have to escape these men.

You are close to the door so you can slip away when there’s an opening. You just need one more step. And you take it while not looking at the door to avoid giving them the idea that you are planning to escape. You just lift your foot up and put it back to get ready to quickly slip away.

Yet just at that precise moment, one of the men catches what you were plotting and immediately pulls his sword out to lunge forward, pointing the tip of the blade at your belly, the only place that will guarantee you to come to a complete stop.

“Not so fast,” he taunts and clicks his tongue.

Your breath falters but you don’t show your fear through your expression, you instead lift your nose in the air and clench your jaw to show frustration.

“Easy Angelo,” the second man warns the man as he sees where his friend points the blade. “We need her unharmed.”

The first man, Angelo scoffs and side-eyes the second man. “I’m no idiot. She just won’t try anything now, will you?” He directs at you as he starts walking around you without letting his threatening aim falter. However, you don’t respond, you just follow him with your eyes until he gets behind you with the tip of the blade now pointed at your back.

There’s room for threats, you could tell them that Aemond has Vhagar, the biggest dragon in the world, who can easily burn them to nothing but ash, but they know that. They know the firepower both sides carry, just like they know that you have a dragon of your own, so it means that they don’t care because they have you. They have the advantage, that’s what they know. But what about what you know?

No matter what has spread about you, they still doubt you. They don’t believe in your wrath, they’re ignorant to the picture others have painted of you because you’re a woman, a Princess who can’t have the capability of spreading such destruction.

That’s where they’re wrong though and you’re glad for it. You can thank their ignorance and their misogynistic views for that. And it’s because of the way they think that you easily find an escape. It is a bit more gruesome than you anticipated, but without a weapon of your own, you have no other choice but to be violent. They left you with no other choice but to fling your fist back just as he puts his sword away in an attempt to tie your hands together, and hit him right in the throat, making him stumble back as he starts to choke. You then swiftly spin around before he can recover, catching him reaching for his sword with one hand, so you hastily run at him and suddenly jump on him.

Once you’re clinging onto him the other guy shouts, whilst Angelo grabs a fistful of your hair to try and yank your head away, but since he’s still choking you manage to throw your head forward and sink your teeth on the side of his neck.

At first, your mind forbids you from sinking your teeth any deeper than you’re supposed to, but adrenaline and fear take control, so before you know it you bite through his flesh, causing blood to immediately flood out in your mouth and spill down your chin. You then yank your head back and rip a piece of flesh from his neck, rendering him nothing more than deadweight at that very moment.

No more taunting, and no more doubting. There’s just his blood as it squirts all over your chest and face until you let go of Angelo, and let him fall limply to the ground with a loud thud as you spit out the piece of him you ripped out.

“Angelo!” The other man shrieks, reminding you he’s there after feeling the rush of the moment cloud your mind.

“<That's right,>” you murmur in High Valyrian as you turn around and see how horrified the man is, to the point he stands there paralyzed with his widened eyes on his dead friend. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re there anymore, not until you snatch the sword from the man’s corpse. Even then he fails to counter, it just seems like his eyes are almost going to pop out of his skull when he sees the bottom part of your face, and your chest covered in his friend's blood.

Yet it’s his inability to react that makes him an easy but also disappointing target. You want him to put up a fight, but he returns his gaze to his friend and with his last breath utters the name, “Angelo.” You then lunge the blade through his stomach so hard that the blade comes out of the other end.

After both men are nothing but corpses spilling blood over the ground you drop the blade and lift your nose in the air as you take in heavy breaths and think of what to do next. There’s no doubt more Frey men are here, Lady Frey wouldn’t be stupid enough to come with just a couple. She should have come with a handful of men, and a handful of men is just enough to overwhelm you and lead you back to the same problem you were just in, but worse because you wouldn’t be able to escape more of them.

It’s why you need to take your chance now that you have it. There’s no more men coming. They don’t all know you’re here, not besides the two that you just killed going by what they said, so you can make your escape.

Alys is here too, but you don’t need to worry about her, she can take care of herself. And Ser Jason? Aemond had him locked away so he wouldn’t get you out, there’s no way you can reach him without getting caught, so…you have to make the hardest choice and leave him behind. You can’t get caught or you’ll just be locked away again, you’ll fall into the same trap that put you in danger in the first place, so you have to leave before they see you. Ser Jason will understand that.

“Sorry, Ser,” you murmur to yourself as you drop the blade and don’t hesitate a moment longer before you leave the room.

Once you're in the hallway though you come to a stop to try and hear if more men are approaching. When you hear nothing, you stick to the shadows and sneakily make your escape. Luckily the castle is large, with a lot of area to cover, so none of the men or Lady Frey have reached the corridors you stride down. They don’t occupy the courtyard you run down, but you do hear voices in the distance once you’re outside, they sound close, but they’re not on top of you yet, so you just quicken your pace.

When you make it out of the walls you stand against one and glance at the woods and open area. If Astraea is hunting she’ll hunt for deer or some bear or something since you’re not close to the sea for her to hunt her fish. The woods don’t offer her the space for her to catch her meals so she’d be roaming over the tree line, over the open fields where she has space and more visibility. That’s where you’ll find her, so going off instinct, you continue to run.

Running while pregnant is not easy though. Especially not with twins, not when you're six months along; they weigh you down and make you slower, but you don’t let that stop you. Not at this moment, you push yourself as much as your body lets you. Your heart quickly begins to race, your rushing blood thumps in your ears, and beads of sweat form on your forehead, but you don’t care, you keep running and running.

The need to keep straining yourself in order to find your dragon only grows tenfold when you hear men in the background shouting to catch you and return you to the castle before you can reunite with your dragon somewhere in the distance. And since they’re not carrying twins they’re faster than you. Since their legs aren’t throbbing with the additional weight or out of growing exhaustion, they’re faster.

They get closer and closer, making you keep pushing yourself, making you try to run faster because you can feel her nearby. She’s close, you can feel it. You just need to run faster. She’ll scare them off.

However, your efforts are proven useless when one of them manages to get the lead out of the others he’s with and throws his arms around you to yank you back, pulling you to a harsh stop, and preventing you from reaching your dragon.

“Let go of me!” You bellow and try to throw your elbow back, but two more men catch up and take ahold of your arms, making your efforts to escape fruitless. “I’m your princess!” You throw out and kick your feet as they start pulling you back, but they don’t care. They see the blood staining you and don’t care. And since a lot of men are returning you to the castle they don’t care about you kicking or squirming.

Your fight is nothing to them, which makes returning to the castle an easy effort and once you're inside you're taken to the Godswood right away where you're pushed to your knees in front of none other than Lady Serena Frey, an old shrewd who was recently widowed, and who apparently has nothing better to do.

“Princess,” the old woman greets you and curtsies which means nothing when you’re on your knees with your hands tied behind your back. “It’s an honor meeting you. I will say you look nothing like your brother.”

You clench your jaw and narrow your glare on her at the mere mention of your brother.

“I expected to come to a weakly defended castle, but alas you’re here,” she continues to talk confidently with her chin up in the air, relishing in a confidence she can only gain because there’s no dragon nearby, you’re on your knees, and she knows Aemond and your own mother are far to do her any harm. “You truly are a sight for sore eyes, Princess.”

You tilt your head slightly and finally break the silence you had kept since you were put before her “You would be rewarded handsomely if you deliver me to my mother without strings, don’t you know?”

Lady Frey steps forward and lets out a deep breath as she seems to weigh on what you say before she sighs and nods stiffly. “Perhaps I would be rewarded, but what’s better than the jewel to the Riverlands? I was promised to be its Castallen but alas the one who made the promise is dead. Killed by arrows I heard.”

Your breath falters, and you drop your eyes to the ground as you make the connection that it was Jacaerys that she was referring to this entire time. It was your sweet and now deceased brother. You realize that and the memory of him only stomps on the ashes of your heart, making you ache.

“And with you as my prisoner, the Prince Regent and The Queen would both willingly give me what I want without the need of waiting until the war has ended,” she adds as her eyes burn into your downcasted attention. “The only question is who will offer it to me first with good benefits.”

“You have dominion over the twins, what more do you need? Surely this castle can’t be worth more than that?” You spat as you slowly roll your eyes up to meet her gaze without that ache reflecting in your eyes. You make sure not to demonstrate your sorrow when meeting eye to eye.

“With your brother dead you will most likely be heir now, if not you will rule over somewhere important, and if not you will always be a spoiled princess pampered until your death, so you will never know our struggles,” she rebuttals spitefully. “You don’t know what it's like having to fight to live. Holding Harrenhal is a promise for a better life, and respect. So yes, Your Grace this castle is worth far more than the Twins.”

Alright…

You remain speechless and just hold her gaze fueled with determination for a moment, and actually feel a speck of admiration for her need to fight for better, but you know now nothing will get her to let you go. You know Aemond will answer first and you know where he will leave you. He’s leaving you no choice…

You didn’t want to fight back with fire or blood. Whatever the case the Frey’s are allied with your mother, they let the Northmen cross and some have fought alongside them for your mother, so they have been allies, but if you let them take you you know where you’ll end up. And the fear of being locked away, of being useless when you can be the key to something great, or even something small that can give someone an advantage, is consuming.

It’s why you can’t stand the idea of being locked away. It’s why you won’t stand being locked away a moment longer, or for a far longer time, even if it’s what Aemond thinks is for the best. Which is funny to think about as you're currently on your knees with your hands tied behind your back because this need to keep you here where he thought your safety was guaranteed is what put you in your current situation. And it was only 3 days after he left. Not months, days! So it’s kind of funny, no?

He surely wouldn’t think so, but it sure as hell is funny to you. You could almost laugh at the irony of it, and all for what?

If only he could see you now. If only he could see the situation HE put you in. Him. Not anyone else, him, him, him, and only him. And all because of what?! A fear you don’t understand after he’s witnessed your ability to fight, and to survive fire. And maybe yes he’s just looking out for you, for your unborn children, but the paranoia that held him by his throat put you in one of the very situations he was trying to avoid. His paranoia put you in this situation, him, and only him! And now he will see what he forced you to do to escape. You will make sure of it.

“Take her inside,” Lady Frey orders the men. “Being under the open sky is too dangerous.”

Smart, but alas not quick enough. You feel her nearby like a magnetizing connection pulled apart and aching to reconnect and become one again. Yet she’s not on top of you yet, close, but if they take you inside now she won’t be able to help you. Thus as the man grabs ahold of your arm and starts to pull you up, you snap your head around and throw your face forward to chomp down on the man's crotch.

The man screams out, of course, but does what you wanted him to do; he lets you go, letting you slowly push yourself to your feet with your eyes cast on the ground all while meeting no fight back. They know after all that hurting you would guarantee no offer to be met, so they don’t retaliate even if the other men itch too. They stand there in confusion watching you draw in and draw heavy breaths out while your eyes stay focused on the ground, unknown to the fact that your mind is thinking about what you’re being forced to do, and what you’re about to do.

They see you there at a standstill and see an opening to recapture you. However, they quickly come to a stop before they can try anything when they catch you slowly lifting your head and slowly painting a different expression on your features.

Rather than expressing disappointment and guilt, your eyebrows start to pinch together, the corner of your lips begin to curl, your nose flares, and in your eyes, a fury is lit within that was not burning there before. One so threatening and furious that Lady Frey starts to realize something is looming nearby; something big, and something far more dangerous than any human, than you, or anything here. Something that is finally heard in the cloud bank above. Something they know to escape right away, but alas they’re far too late.

“Dracarys,” you utter one single word just above a whisper. And without the need to repeat yourself or even be heard by the creature hidden in the cloud back, a great fire rains down from above, ridding the sky of every cloud that hid her, and bathing you and every single soul around you except for one, in a life-consuming fire that leaves only you standing there with your nose in the air, heavy breaths escaping past your lips, and tears of anger welling in your eyes. All while the sole survivor runs away without looking back. All he knows is you came out unscathed, that’s all he cares to acknowledge after his escape because he fears you’ll go after him.

Albeit how can you when your mind is stuck on the fact of that matter that you didn’t want to kill them? You didn’t want to burn them and leave yourself naked in the middle of the Godswood, but Aemond pushed you to. Aemond left you here…and it’s because he left that you had to do it.

Why? Why did he have to leave? Why did he leave you behind?

You were going to leave after he accidentally pushed you, but if he had asked you to accompany him on his wrath around the Riverlands you would have accepted. And why wouldn’t you? But he left and he put your life in danger. He left and you had to burn them, you had to use fire. You had to kill the other two and leave your face covered in blood. You had to because of him. Him. Him!

Well, now he will see what he forced you to do. He will see what his actions led to. He will return expecting to see you still locked away in those chambers, but you’ll be long gone, all that will be left of you is the remnants of what you did, what he caused, and what his fear pushed you to do.

Aemond will return and see burnt bodies on the ground, and Lady Frey and a few others hanging from the Weirwood tree. He will see that he was wrong. He will face his mistake and your wrath.

He will see and you make sure of it all by yourself. It is taxing, only because you had to fling the bodies over the branches, but you did it. You left a gruesome scene and even though you have done bad things before, usually you’re basked with pride and confidence since you’re proving that you’re so much more, that you are strong, but this time as you look up at the bodies from the ground all you can do is cry as you’re hit with a wave of guilt for the first time.

You try to wipe the tears off your face, but hot streaks keep rolling down your cheeks, breaking through the dry blood that pampers your face, and only making your emotions clear to anyone with eyes. And when it comes to Alys and Ser Jason finally coming out to meet you in the Godswood that confidence that you usually carry like some mask after you fight is even more impossible to be bothered to be put on.

You try to paint yourself as unfazed. You try hard, after all, they were just stupid people who threatened your life. Yet when you turn to face Alys and give your back to the Weirwood tree carrying those burnt bodies, your bottom lip starts to tremble, your pinched eyebrows falter from their hardened hold, and your eyes, oh, your eyes, they scream your agony in such a way that Ser Jason thinks your pain is ethereal, and that the gruesome scene behind you is like a part of some beautifully tragic embroidered art piece on a tapestry.

“I have to go home,” is what you can muster through it all. “Will you come with me?” You direct at Alys, and she first approaches you to block your exposed body from your sworn protector and then gives you a response that comes easily to her.

“No. My place is here,” she says and only makes more tears run down your face, reminding her how young you really are in the grand scheme of things. You might’ve recently had a name day, but as she sees you before her with your face screaming the agony you’re under, she remembers that you shouldn’t be put through these trials and tribulations. You’re too young, but you’re forced just like many before you.

“But don’t fret my friend, will see each other again,” she uses a soft voice she had forgotten she was able to use. “Soon.”

You believe her, no doubt about it, so you nod gently.

“You send me a raven if you find yourself in trouble, and if Aemond—”

“I know how to avoid him,” she cuts you off to assure you. “Don’t worry. You just go back home to your boy and your mother. I will be fine. I always have.”

You nod again and just before you can go change, you take in a breath to say something else. “Thank you, for letting me find peace with my father,” you say shakily. “And for…letting me find myself. I know who I am, and what my place is in this story now because of you Alys, so…thank you. I will never ever forget what you did for me here, and I know you said it already, but if you want we can be lifelong friends. I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

Alys blinks repeatedly and her own lips tremble but she musters a confident but sweet smile. “Of course. I would…really love that.”

You swallow thickly and nod in comprehension before you wrap your arms around her to pull her in for an embrace. “Thank you,” you whisper and hold onto her tighter, feeling her carefully return your embrace.

After a moment of lingering in each other's arms, you pull back and look at Ser Jason past Alys’ shoulder. “Get ready, Ser. We’re going home.”

———

*SOMETIME LATER*

The last time you returned to King’s Landing was after leaving Dragonstone, and you were met with an arrow that barely missed your dragon. There was hostility where there shouldn’t have been any, and this time around it’s not all so different. Sure, an arrow isn’t shot at Astraea this time, so your life isn’t put in danger, but you are met with perhaps a more dangerous threat; two dragons roaming the skies they never lose sight of you as they approach you the closer you get to the city, fearing that the monster of Aemond’s dragon would descend at any moment.

Alas, their fear is misplaced, you don’t come as a threat. You could be one, the two people upon their dragons know that, but you’ve come home in peace. And perhaps now you look like some dog running back with its tail between its legs. And in some form, you are running back home, but it’s not out of cowardice. More so realization that your mother’s side is where you always belonged.

Hopefully, she gets to understand that and hasn’t given up on you even though she’s had every right to, and has most likely had snakes whispering in her ear telling her to stop putting a candle out for your return—and yes, you may still have some sort of hateful bias toward the snake called Daemon, that he doesn’t deserve any more. It’s been proven that he’s just an asshole and nothing more, but still! He’s most likely told her to view you as an enemy because it would make fighting her war easier.

And perhaps she should kill you. The whispers that have spread about the realm are not cruel rumors, you supported Aemond in taking Harrenhal, and you took part in the massacre of House Strong, so yes you were a devoted Green. You are a traitor to your mother’s side!

But you’ve seen your wrongs, you’re not tormented anymore. She needs to see that. You keep pleading to yourself that she does, that she forgives your wrongs and doesn’t truly cast you aside like you’ve feared she would so many times before.

She needs to see it. Please, please don’t let her forsake you.

“Give me your hand,” Ser Jason offers his help, but you jump off the ladders hanging down Astraea and land perfectly on the ground—“o-kay.”

The flapping of dragon wings claps in the sky louder and louder way before a long shadow starts to cast over you.

Yet even as the dragon is approaching you you avoid giving them your attention, you direct it to Astraea instead as you approach her head and lift your hand to gently stroke her face.

However, after a moment passes you can't help yourself from drifting your attention to the sky where you see Seasmoke.

You see him and your mind immediately goes to your father, what you just found out not so long ago in the form of dreams, and in some way, in some form a part of you expects him to be on that dragon. You wish for him to be on that dragon, but the truth breaks through your delusion just as quickly as it built up and you come out disappointed that you know it’s just Addam.

“And so the prodigal daughter returns,” his taunting voice hits your ears, making you press your hand firmly against your dragon whilst you slowly drag your attention to Daemon now on the ground departing from his dragon. “Which begs the question, friend or foe? Should I expect your Kinslayer of a husband to surprise attack us?”

You see him now, and not just a glimpse of him, you see all of him and he has his hand resting on Dark Sister with a not-so-lax hold as if anticipating a fight. Which is smart on his behalf.

“No,” you deadpan with no effort to sound kind or warm. “I have escaped his clutches while he’s away. I have returned to fight for The Queen…if she’ll have me.”

Daemon's gaze roams your body, noticing how tense your shoulders are, but not seeing any part of you twitch in a form to give away that you’re lying. Your voice is harsh and serious, no taunting or cockiness clings onto it, it just gives away your distaste for him but not anything else that should worry him. It’s why he chooses to trust you, and well, your mother had already told him that she wanted to see you when your dragon was first sighted in the sky.

“Of course, she’ll have you,” Daemon mutters, making your breath falter. “But your sworn protector needs to give me his sword, and Astraea needs to go to the Dragonpit.”

You snap your eyes to Astraea, and her own gaze turns to you which only makes your turmoil that much worse.

“It’s for safety measures,” Daemon adds as he takes note of your hesitance “Just hours ago you were the enemy. And even now when you enter the Red Keep and I follow you in who knows what can happen, do you understand?”

You swallow back nervously, and as you keep looking at Astraea as if your actions will physically wound her, you nod gently in agreement.

“Good.”

You can’t say it hurt you more to chain your dragon in the dragon pit because she’s been spoiled most of her life, so now she’s restless when it comes to being in chains and unable to sleep under the endless sky, so she’s hurt and when she’s hurt you feel it too.

Yet that pain doesn’t compare to the agony that you’re hit with when you step inside the Red Keep and forget Jacaerys is gone. You were so used to having him greet you whether it be with a furrowed brow or warm smile that you wait for him to come meet you and Daemon when you’re walking to the throne room. You expect him to walk around a corridor in a very heavy and quick stride. You anticipate seeing him—no, desire seeing him meet you halfway, but just as you turn the corner to reach the throne room, it hits you, he’s gone. Not temporarily, he’s not off handling something for your mother, he’s gone forever. He’s never going to come meet you ever again with either a smile or a bothered look.

You remember that and it shakes what little confidence you had mustered to talk to your mother. Now when those doors open and you’re greeted with the great image of her on that throne tears accompany your eyes, the corners of your lips are downturned, and sorrow and anxiety make themselves evident. There’s no holding them back anymore, it’s clear to Rhaena and Baela standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, and your grandfather, The Hand, standing below the steps that lead to the Iron Throne. And most importantly your emotions are loud and clear to your mother. Not the Queen, your mother.

Yes, she looks at you like she can’t believe you’re walking down the great hall. She couldn’t believe you were returning when she saw Astraea, nor could she believe she was hearing your title and name be announced the moment the doors opened, but alas here you are, striding to her with no pep in your step, no air of cockiness and arrogance around you. All she sees is her wounded daughter. Her weakness that crumbles her own mask and softens her heart hardened after Jacaerys death.

“Your Grace,” you greet and immediately go down on one knee, causing Ser Jason to do the same behind you.

Like before when you came to greet Aegon as King for the first time you keep your eyes downcasted. This time though it’s not to fake innocence, this time you can’t lift your eyes out of fear of what you’ll see, especially as you hear her get off the throne and hear her footsteps descend the stairs.

“I have come to swear my fealty to ward the Queen,” you proclaim with an attempt at confidence. “I know my word means nothing. Word has spread about what I was a part of at Harrenhal, and I will not say it happened against my will because I would be lying. I did it. I took part in killing House Strong, and I don’t regret it. I had my reasons. Just like I had my reasons to leave your side…” you trail off as you avoid giving those reasons so no problems would arise.

“But,” you add with a hint of softness. “I see my wrongdoings. I was wrong, I see it now. My place is here, by your side, My Queen. My place has always been at your side.” You nod in agreement to your words and still don’t look at her even if she now stops before you.

“I’m sorry I fell astray. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I wouldn’t have to take part in fighting, or any royal matters. I just want your forgiveness and for you to let me return to my place by your side…please,” your voice quivers on that last word. Not to make yourself sound more convincing, you just couldn’t control your emotions.

And either way, no matter how you would’ve sounded, or what word you used at the end, your mother still presses two fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to make you meet her gaze, and let you see tears that well in her eyes and the softness that reflects back at you.

“Rise,” she orders, and you slowly stand to your feet, letting her eyes fall to your belly that sticks out now before her gaze finds yours again.

“Your Grace,” you say breathily with the need to say so much more. You’re on the verge of a breakdown, but as you’re on your feet you can see the other people in the hall, you feel their eyes on you, so those two words are all you utter.

“Should we expect an attack from Vhagar now that you have left?” Daemon interrupts the moment, causing you and your mother to snap your gaze to him at the same time—“It’s said Cole has taken his army away from Harrenhal, where does he march?”

“He aims to join the Hightower,” you don’t fret to share. “But alas they’re taking the most obvious route so it’s a waiting game now to see if they can win against the Northmen and the Rivermen.”

Daemon scoffs and you continue more hesitantly now.

“And Aemond…is smart, once he finds out I’m gone he’ll be upset, but he wouldn’t dare come when he knows he’s at a disadvantage, besides, he wants you to go out to meet him.”

A teasing smile flashes on Daemon’s face that he hides by looking down.

“He left me at Harrenhal, locked me in our quarters to be protected, but Lady Serena Frey invaded Harrenhal with the intention of taking me captive to give me to the highest bidder,” you share and look back at your mother. “She said she was promised Harrenhal and wanted to take it by force. She's dead now,” you announce coldly. “They all are. That’s how I escaped.”

Your mother looks at you, not with fear at what she heard, but with a curiosity that she doesn’t express. It just gleams in her eyes.

“Good,” Daemon praises you.

“My sword is yours now,” you reassure your mother. “I will bleed for you, and I will use fire on your enemies now and until the day I die.”

Your mother draws in a deep breath and blinks repeatedly as she very lightly shakes her head before she grabs your shoulder with one hand and then cups your cheek with the other, making you draw in a deep shaky breath.

“Don't turn your back on me again,” she says, but not threateningly. There’s not even a hint of it, it’s more like she was pleading you not to more than anything.

“I swear,” you immediately respond, making her lips twitch up but not to form a smile just yet.

“<Welcome back home,>” she whispers and presses her forehead against yours, making tears slip out of your eyes, but not feel assured just yet. Not until you tell her everything you have trapped in your throat.

“<And thank you. For saving your brother, Aegon,>” she adds, making you pull your head back to offer her a smile and sweet words.

“<Of course.>”

You then step back and glance at your grandfather and offer him a stiff nod to acknowledge him, but that’s all, something venomous still churns inside at the thought of him.

When you look at the twins though, you can muster a short smile before you look back at your mother and finally get to what you’ve been itching to address. “Aerion?”

“Guarded by your dog,” Daemon chuckles, making you roll your eyes to him—“he’s as loyal as a hound that one. That’s the only reason why he still breathes.”

So Ser Cane has been protecting him this entire time? Good!

“May I go see him?” You ask your mother just in case she wants to touch on other matters and to let her take care of other trivial matters now that you’re back.

“Of course,” she doesn’t keep you waiting. She lets you go without anything else to add. Nothing to restrict you, after all, you’re her only biological daughter, you’re her child, and after losing three already, how could she even think of doing anything to hurt you in any way whether it be emotionally or physically?

If she could, she would lock you away like Aemond did, that would guarantee your safety, but she knows her limits, so she lets you go without any interjections.

Yet, close is all you get to Aerion. Before you can turn the corner that leads to his chambers you hesitate out of slight fear.

He’s a baby, nine months old to be exact, but it’s been four months since you last saw him. What if he cries when you try to hold him? What if he wants nothing to do with you? You would deserve his rejection, you haven’t been in his life for a short time, but it doesn’t mean that you want to mean nothing to your son.

But if you do mean nothing, if that fear becomes a reality then you have to face it, don’t you? You have no other option. Thus you draw out a deep breath before you turn the corner and get greeted with Ser Cane outside the door.

“Ser,” you announce your presence and gain his immediate attention.

“Princess,” he tries to sound serious but you hear the hint of surprise that matches the surprise in his eyes. “You've returned. Welcome back home.”

The corner of your lips tug to a gentle smile at the sound of his warm greeting. “It’s good to be home,” you say in return as you come to a brief stop before him. “I’m glad they have spared you, and I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I didn’t know it was going to happen.”

Ser Cane shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, Princess. I have been through worse.”

You shake your head gently. “In any case I am sorry.”

Ser Cane shakes his head as well and speaks with determination clinging to every word. “I am your sworn protector and that of your son. My life and my sword are yours. To die protecting you and the little lord would be a good and honorable death. I would want it no other way regardless of which side you decide to fight on.”

Your breath hitches and you nod in comprehension. “Thank you, my good knight,” you whisper, making him bow his head before he opens the door for you.

“Go on, I’m sure he’s still awake.”

You swallow back nervously and take a peek inside first, but don’t see him, Vanessa, or any of his caretakers. You hoped they would be just across the door, but alas you have to step inside. And when you do, you do so with your eyes averted as if you’re ashamed of walking in.

“Princess?!” You hear Vanessa’s voice call out to you from across the room, bringing you to a stop but not making you raise your gaze just yet.

“You’re back? When did you arrive?” She continues asking so you answer.

“Not so long ago,” you speak quietly with shame clinging onto every word as if high-born ladies didn’t leave their children for long periods of time, as if being gone was such a great sin when it isn’t. It’s common for high-born ladies to be away from their children, but that’s not the mother you wanted to be because that’s not the kind of mother that raised you.

“I’m sorry,” you can’t hold back anymore, striking Vanessa with surprise and bringing herself to a stop as she made her way to you.

“For what?” She queries.

You blink repeatedly and then slowly drag your eyes up, feeling your breath escape your lips when you see Aerion awake in her arms, looking right at you with his father's blue eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Vanessa adds to try and reassure you. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

You glance at her and nod in comprehension before you look back at Aerion as he’s unable to keep his eyes off you as if trying to figure you out.

“<Aerion,> You coo and whatever fear and hesitation you held falls completely when you see how big he’s gotten, and how big and healthy he looks

“<Hello, my little love,>” you continue as you slowly start to make your way toward him, hoping he won’t turn away from you.

“Look at you,” Vanessa interjects. “Six months along and you look so much bigger. I suppose twins do that though, huh? Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything to eat? Tea?”

You look at your handmaiden and shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. Just…relieved to be back with Aerion. And you.”

She huffs and when you walk over and reach her you cup her cheek first, letting her mirror your action but then also start stroking your cheek gently.

“I’m happy you have returned,” she says sweetly, making you smile. “You must tell me everything, and I will give you something that came for you.”

You scoff at her cheeky smile but offer her an agreeing nod before you let her go and give your attention to your son, feeling your eyes soften right away, and feeling a spark where your heart once used to be.

“<Hello my boy, it’s me, your mama.>” You whisper in the most gentle voice so you don’t startle him, and he spares a glance at Vanessa before he meets your gaze and leans towards you to reach his hands out.

You gasp softly and feel your eyes sting with tears as you don’t hesitate to take him and carry him yourself, feeling how much heavier he is now. “<I have so much to tell you>,” your voice quivers as you stroke the side of his head whilst he reaches for the siren necklace Aemond gifted you. “<Like I missed you so much, and,” you laugh softly. “Guess what? I met your little brother in a vision. Not the twins, someone we have yet to meet.>”

With no care to what you’re saying Aerion lays his head on your shoulder as he clutches onto the Siren, making you let out a happy cry before you hug him tightly against you with the inability to stop pressing kisses on his head.

“I love you,” you whisper against his head and then nuzzle your nose in his head of white-silver hair, going unaware of the fact that your mother stood past the doors with the intention of walking in, but stopping the moment she catches you sharing such a sweet moment with your son and not being able to help her blissful smile.

It’s been a while since she’s smiled, since she’s felt bliss, but as she sees you with your own little one that’s all she feels, bliss.

.

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