⋆⭒˚.⋆

She sat in an embellished divan entrenched in colors of gold and chestnut wood, it had been placed in the gardens especially for her. It was far more adequate than a cushioned chair since it had room to stretch her legs and a substantial lumbar support. Stroking her growing belly, Aerea released a long sigh and examined the space around her. Quite frankly, it was getting tiring.

The exquisite mosaic walls that had once appalled her were dull, the colors did nothing and she could not be bothered to know the lives behind each representation. Time and costume had made them ordinary. By now the princess had heard the tale of Baeron a thousand times, the image of the man jumping to a lake forever recorded on the east wall. He was always a bit mad, the historians say, and to his hard luck fate decided he would not bear a dragon companion. So, Baeron Nartaelos went on to become a knight. The man was not cruel or ill-intended but he was foolish enough to wake up one day and convince himself to have grown wings. Everyone warned him but Baeron still jumped from a cliff... Fate to amend the ostracism placed upon the man, had him landing on a lake.

From that moment on, he was known as Baeron, the toad.

It was a great tale, funny even, but the princess needed something new. Thus she inquired about the illustration on the south of a woman aboard a ship collecting stars. It was Vhaenyra Nartaelos guiding them with nothing but the atlas of the heavens. An inspiring story really.

Nevertheless, there was also Alyra and Aegorr Nartaelos, not Vanarr's father but an ancestral member of the house. They were siblings and lovers, and the reason the Valyrian tradition was so alive in that place. Deeply devoted and a massive firepower when resisting religious persecution conducted by the Faith and its followers. Aegorr and Alyra never intended for war, just to be free to practice what nourished their soul. The Faith considered them too rebellious and voted to call for a truce, on that account it was settled that Dreimunt would be a secular region. However, if the Nartaelos were to leave their haven, they vowed to respect the traditions of the Seven Kingdoms.

It was not Aerea's favorite tale in all honesty. She had nothing against it but the political side of her brain could only gather that unwillingness to compromise, was why the Targaryens sat the throne instead.

Probably the account she liked the most was of Jaerion Nartaelos that escaped his arranged marriage to become a Red Priest in Essos. Somewhere. At least that was what the historians assumed in the books the princess read through, an activity she took on recently. Otherwise she wouldn't know about Jaerion since his image wasn't in any mural or statues.

Many of the family's disappointments were forgotten in yellowed pages of closed books. That was the part that infuriated Aerea the most. They told the fable of Baeron, a fool that leaped into a lake but no one dared to remember Jaerion, whose only sin was wanting to decide his destiny.

Vhaenyra Nartaelos was acclaimed for her skill in nautica but what about her sister? What about Heana Nartaelos? She never saw the rise of her ancestral home in Westeros, instead she lived the rest of her days in Driftmark, married to some Velaryon lord. Of course Vhaenyra was the warrior, the scholar, and she certainly embellished the walls of the fort... But what of the lamb the house sacrificed to have boats, to heap the knowledge that led them to Dreimunt centuries ago?

Even with Alyra and Aegorr the same thing happened. They acted as one and fought together, yet Aegorr was depicted as a valiant soldier and she as a fair maiden. Alyra Nartaelos won as many battles, it was simply not fair.

In truth, Aerea wasn't sure what drove her down this path. Libraries and history weren't things Aerea cared for growing up. Perhaps it had started with Dusca suggesting a trip to the study rather than the gardens to avoid stars. The mere idea had the princess screaming and tipping over a bench. It was no secret that over the months she's gotten big and mundane tasks acquired onerous efforts. Pregnancy had not been kind on her and Aerea was truly sick of feeling bloated, sweaty, drained... In retrospect, she quite enjoyed the wisdom she had been piling up, it made her more self-confident about her position as lady of Dreimunt. Now she was even more curious to learn about her own house.

''Princess.''

A faint grin flickered on her lips as she instantly recognized Rhaemorr's voice. She deducted her legs from the cushion and turned to welcome him.

''No, please, by all means...''

''Just sit, Rhaemorr.''

He did as she bid, chuckling a bit in the process. His gaze seemed to be on the lookout for something, Aerea followed in order to understand. Thankfully, he cared to explain and ease the princess' grimace.

''No book today?''

''No, not today.''

''Are you feeling well?''

She laughed, a bit miffed. ''Pardon me, Maester Rhaemorr, for not applying to my readings today. I vow to compensate once I feel like it.''

''Alright, very well.''

''What?'' Passion rose with her destructive tone.

''I don't take it to heart, I know you're just really narked as of late.''

''You would be too.''

''I know. I only meant,'' he suspired. A screaming match would take them nowhere and it would fatally end with the princess crying in anger. Rhaemorr tried not to fall for her provocations. ''I only meant, you've been coming to the gardens for three days. Alone, with no entertainment... I wanted to check on you and make sure the stairs aren't...''

''Always the fucking stairs!'' Aerea cut him off.

''There's a bedchamber on this very floor...''

''For old codgers and invalids!''

''Don't be like that! Aerea, it is not like that!''

And they yelled, for a long bit. Until the altercation reached the line, the line that should not be crossed but it often was.

''I'm only tried to take care of you...'' Rhaemorr said.

''I don't need you to take of...''

''Gods, we've been over this...''

''I can do it alone!''

''Please, can you just let us help you?''

''I won't be taking advice from someone removed from the Citadel!''

She knew it was the wrong thing to say yet there was no hesitation. Rhaemorr shut his mouth, his features locked in a neutral state but the hate radiating from him was almost suffocating. Like a whiff of air, suddenly she realized her mistake but the lord was already leaving.

''Rhaemorr, wait.''

''To your information, I wasn't removed. I quit.''

Aerea was quick on her feet, to the best of her abilities, and followed after the boy. In turn, Rhaemorr kept walking and screaming the sermon.

''I refused to abide by senseless rules, just because something is taught by a maester does not mean it is right!''

''Let me explain,'' Aerea tried again.

''There is more knowledge in the world than those books you've been entertaining yourself with. I have read them too once, you know?''

''Rhaemorr.''

''It's the history of my family and, yes, I realize the faults of our system. But your Faith has its faults too! So don't lecture me about...''

''Rhaemorr!'' The scream was born of horror and pain, the boy halted as his blood froze inside his veins. He glanced over his shoulder to see Aerea kneeled on ground, one hand supporting her torso and the other one her belly. Without further ado, Rhaemorr rushed to her and helped her up, he noticed the teal dress was wet. ''I don't k-know... I j-just felt p- Ahhhhh!''

The princess recoiled into herself as a spasm of the most horrid pain washed over her. Understanding what it meant, Rhaemorr placed her arm over his shoulder and secured her by the waist. He took her just past the red doors and called out for help from anyone around, a set of maids were rapidly surrounding them. They asked her questions but Aerea was too dizzy to provide answers.

Against her will, yet knowing very well she wouldn't be able to climb the stairs, they took her to one of the chambers on the ground floor. Aerea was too overwhelmed to care, she only wanted her handmaidens with her.

''I'll go fetch them,'' Rhaemorr reassured.

However, she grabbed his hand tightly. ''No! Don't leave me.''

The words came in a whisper, a plea that Rhaemorr could not ignore. He accepted her hold, embracing it with both his hands while he bowed down next to the bed. The lord ordered one of the maids to bring Sassa and Dusca.

It was too early for the babe, the healer said. One more moon would've marked the preferable timing, the gods had been spiteful it seemed. Alas they would perform the birth, so the next hours of Aerea's life were a haze but not without discomfort. She felt being torn from the inside, a tiny devil severed her walls and punctures at her spine. It had to begone, she wanted it gone and far from her!

She wanted her mother, she wanted to be embraced by home. Let it be Dragonstone, or King's Landing, it would not matter. Aerea cried out for her brother Viserys, and begged to be rescued by her other brother Daemon. The little monster had to be cut out of her, or else Aerea feared not making it out. Both damnations and cravings sang at her heart when she asked for Vanarr; however, she was reminded he would not come as Rhaemorr closed his fist over her hand. She wanted to live and gods! Gods, she was so-so tired of being in a place that meant nothing to her.

Rhaemorr stayed for the duration of the delivery, and when the creature came out of her howling, covered in blood, he smiled. That alone would create a rumor that would haunt them both, yet the pair did not know at the time. In turn, Aerea wanted nothing more but to retreat to herself.

If she had been allowed a choice, Aerea would have pushed the babe away from her arms. Instead, she held it and cried, hoping it would seem to the unwatchful eyes that Aerea cried out of love.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The army rounded up on an open field, soldiers regained their strengths as their lieges discussed strategy. Across from them, on Bloodstone, the prince persisted with fruitless attacks on the mercenaries. Vanarr lowered his gaze and shook his head, amongst them Vaemond Velaryon was the most fired up and impatient. The Sea Snake attempted to propose solutions for the trouble they were in, their boats were scarce and rations would last a fortnight.

''We must press the attack, continue sending the dragons.''

''It's pointless, father. The Crabfeeder has created a choke point here,'' Laenor explained. ''Archers hold the high positions, foot soldiers hold the ground. We've strafed them on dragonback again and again, but they just retreat within the caves.''

''Dragons can circle Bloodstone until they fall out of the sky. The Crabfeeder and his men have no reason to leave those caves.'' Vaemond provided.

''Lord Laenor has the right idea, we must give them a reason.''

Since he had been silent most of the meeting, it surprised the rest how Vanarr came out of his mental retreat to defend young Laenor.

''Who?''

Before anyone could respond, the red dragon flew back to the islet. Somehow Vanarr already guessed how the confrontation between the lords would develop, lately they've fused over the same altercations.

''Yes. Who?'' Vaemond said. ''Which man here will happily go to his death? Show me the knight who will march into that hell pit, nephew, and I will show you a madman.''

The soldiers listened intently but as the conversation progressed they hid their faces, some lowered their head, others covered the desperation with hands and swords.

''Daemon,'' the youngest Velaryon said, with chest puffed out.

''Daemon is why we are losing!''

There we go, Vanarr tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He hoped that when he dared to open them, they would all have vanished. Vanarr too, he was fatigued of all and the grave hails. It hails for his soul, to wipe it clean.

''He at least is fighting this war. What role have you played in his council, uncle, other than Master of Complaints?''

''Enough, Laenor.'' Corlys warned.

Oh, but Vaemond wasn't due, he never knew how to lose with grace. He glared at the army and screamed out. ''If King's Landing will not support Daemon, why should any of us?!''

Corlys pulled his brother. The Nartaelos lord stood to his full height to hear what Corlys murmured. ''Blood or not, Vaemond. I will not have you stoke mutiny.''

Vanarr felt a shoulder bump into him, the prince settled next to him leaning on the table with his back to everyone. They exchanged a glare, the lord rolled his eyes and it told Daemon all he needed to know about what he had missed.

''If you do not seize control of this war, my lord, the crabs will soon dine on all of us.''

The army stood silent, contemplating their fate. For as much of an irritating man he was, Vaemond was also correct. They had to approach the war from a different angle, or they would perish.

''Prince Daemon,'' a man called. ''I bring word from His Grace, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.''

With little interest, Daemon took the parchment and read it. Almost shrugging the message off, he passed it to Lord Corlys. As the Prince of the realm turned his body towards the table, Vanarr could see the struggle playing behind those purple, loathsome eyes. Then with all his might, the prince punched the messenger and began jabbing again and again until he was down. Vanarr latched on to Daemon's waist pushing him away and catching his fists driven by an anger that trespassed that damned place.

On the grounds that Daemon wasn't exploding due to the council. He wasn't angry at them, he was angry at himself for letting the War for the Stepstones last this long. All his trials would go to waste, the torments on his body and the scars on his mind would mean nothing. The victory would belong to his brother instead, because all of the sudden the king decided to worry about his afflictions.

King Viserys Targaryen wrote:

''Though time and circumstance have seen us estranged, know that it is not my desire to see you fail in your cause. It is instead my hope that this aid will deliver the victory that has thus far evaded us.''

In good sentiment, Vanarr presumed, but to Daemon it was an insult.

That night the prince approached Lord Nartaelos. Hastiness at his grasp and clearly not even-tempered.

''Fuck their ships, fuck their men! We don't need 'em.''

Vanarr squinted but before he could speak, the prince secured by the chest and shortened their distance. The question at the tip of Vanarr's tongue didn't need solving, since he could smell the wine in Daemon's breath.

''We take our dragons and wipe 'em out of their miserable existence.''

He did not push the prince away, months fighting side by side had made Vanarr accustomed to the other man. In preference, he enveloped Daemon's shoulders tightly in hopes it would force him to come down from those grandiose delusions.

''We can't just barge in with Caraxes and Hydriax...''

''Why not?'' He stumbled a bit but Vanarr stabilized him.

''That's what we've been doing and it's costing us the war, I'm afraid.''

Annoyed Daemon shoved him, he didn't go far when the lord let go. Actually the prince fell backwards which elicited a laugh from the other.

''Don't laugh, you oaf!''

While helping Daemon to an upright position, Vanarr could not help chuckling some more. ''What else am I supposed to do, my prince?''

''Help me...''

Lord Nartaelos grasped control over his features; he did not wish for Daemon to sense any type of sympathy translated into them. He expected Daemon to confuse it with pity. It wasn't. By now Vanarr had come to consider the prince his friend, at the very least his ally, and he wished to help. Vanarr just wasn't sure how.

''Many moons ago, you said something about sending the infantry first to attract them to the open...'' Vanarr thought out loud.

''Did I?''

''Yes... And I think... It's a terrific idea.''

''We have tried that.''

''Well, yes, but I got a few propositions.''

⋆⭒˚.⋆

It had been an awful idea. Dangerous but Vanarr had not doubted the prince's abilities. At some point an archer hit the bull's eye, right on the lord's heart. An impressive shot considering Vanarr had not left his dragon's back during the conquest of Bloodstone. The arrowhead wronged his flesh, Vanarr gritted his teeth and kept going forward into the camp. He must prevail, he must survive. There was so much to see yet, above all the sun. Vanarr must see the sun.

Unfortunately his legs failed him, or maybe it was his lungs giving out... The bottom line was, Vanarr fell down the hill trying to reach a maester. As millions of hands seized him and his armor he rested his gaze. He heard Hydriax and wanted to calm the beast down; however, Vanarr had to take several gulps of air so he wouldn't pass out.

They laid him on a table and removed his armor in a haste.

The grave hails.

The arrow head was dissected from his skin. Vanarr did not scream, he did not feel the ache. In lieu he prayed to the gods of Old Valyria.

The grave hails.

A built figure trenched around the healers, Vanarr sensed him even before viewing Daemon. Blood, he had bathed in blood from head to toe and had his mouth agape. He rushed to the lord's side, bestowing little slaps on his cheek.

''Hey, hey! Vanarr!''

Vanarr could only master a weak, musty chuckle. He lifted his hand to Daemon who in return smacked it away from his face; Vanarr took no offense. He understood the fear of losing but the lord wasn't disturbed with the thought of the end. Although he was regretful.

The grave hails.

''Don't die on me, fool!''

''It's all right, Daemon. The grave hails, the s...''

''You have a child! You have a child on the way.''

Vanarr stood up at the statement, and the maesters had to hold him down again. He screamed at the prince for clarifications, demanded answers rasping and loud. Then they forced milk of the poppy down his throat and his head was filled with clouds.

In his mirages, Vanarr saw three children playing in the garnished gardens of Dreimunt. Chasing each other, laughs like melodies to his ears and dancing throughout his home. Their home. Vanarr Nartaelos smiled, contented, well fed and finally in peace. A subtle touch to his shoulder drew in to glance left, Vanarr jumped back completely disconcerted by the image. It was Aerea, rotten and crimson, forcing her thin lips upwards. Too in shock to run, Vanarr let her crawl into his lap. Then she whispered right in his ear things only a dead woman could learn. Of their blood, of their fate.

That was how he knew, that couldn't possibly be Aerea.

Vanarr woke up in a puddle of sweat and gasping. Catching on his breath was excruciating after the trauma his body endured, yet he remained incumbent on his forearms and staring at the top of the tend. Slowly the dream dissolved into a fog but he did not forget the woman. The things she told him drifted away to a sea of unconscious notions but somehow he knew it was all his fault.

''Good morrow.''

Daemon said from the corner, snapping the lord out of his trance. He turned but flinched as the pain traveled over his chest to every fiber of his being. The prince handed Vanarr the medicine at the table and a bottle.

''The maesters suggest rest, as you can probably guess.''

''What did you say about a child?''

Daemon tuted. ''You really want to start there, hm?''

''Daemon,'' Vanarr uttered in disbelief. 'Of course! Of course, I want to start there.''

The prince didn't reply, he favored presenting a letter to Vanarr. A letter that had been stored in his pockets, the lord ripped it away from Daemon's fingers. It was from his brother, Rhaemorr, recounting a crisis his wife had suffered months past and announcing she was pregnant. The lord braced a hand over his mouth, brows constricting in distress.

As Prince Daemon prepared to speak, Vanarr bolted in his direction and pressed him against a box of rations. He grabbed the prince by his collar, giving him as little space to move as possible.

''Why?''

''Why what?'' Daemon spat out.

''Why didn't you tell me?''

The Targaryen averted his eyes for a moment. ''Would you have stayed? Knowing your beautiful wife was with child? Men like you don't put war over family?''

''Men like me?'' Vanarr sneered.

''Nartaelos... Rather honorable, almost as weak.''

''I would've kept my vow...''

''To me or to my sister?''

Vanarr clenched his jaw and freed the prince. ''I guess now you'll never know...''

He wiped his nose and limped over to the bed to get his tunic. Behind him, Daemon paced to the other side of the tent but did not leave just yet.

''I want you to understand, I had no villainous intentions...''

''Just selfish ones.''

''Vanarr, we won. Why are you so prissy about the matter?''

'' I thought you trusted me, I thought we were family! Why would you stab me in the back when all I did was be loyal to you?''

Daemon stood at the exit with a faint smile plastered on his lips, one the lord wished to slap away. He scoffed irritating Vanarr further, it was making him crazy. ''I will wait for your recovery. Then we'll visit King's Landing if it's of your liking.''

Defeated, Vanarr Nartaelos flopped on the mattress. ''Sure.''

''And, I do. We are.'' Oh, but the Rogue Prince could not depart without the last word, could he? The lord lifted his head, curiosity matching his revolt. ''Welcome to the family, my lord.''

NOTES

hello, was this rushed? i don't know you tell me?

anyways, tell me your thoughts and have a nice day <3