Chapter 9 Part 1

Mid to Late 99 AC, Isle of Faces

The sounds of Mīsaragorn's fleshy wings flapping in the still winds of the night was all he could hear as they veered down towards the lonely isle that sat in the heart of Westeros, the silver light of the unhidden moon illuminating the world around them.

Aegon felt Mīsaragorn's unease, an unease familiar to Aegon whenever they'd roamed the skies over these parts of the Riverlands. It had taken more will than usual to make Mīsaragorn comply with his wishes, almost as much as it took him to convince Mīsaragorn to go through the madder parts of this plan of his.

They banked and turned before Mīsaragorn descended down onto the beach of the Isle, the lake at their backs and their eyes set onto the source of their unease.

He climbed down off of the back of Mīsaragorn who craned his neck ominously as he gazed down the abyssal darkness that lay between the thick tree line, his deep low rumbling growl echoing hauntingly across the dark and misty surroundings.

Where Dragonstone felt like home, this place…this place felt like a thousand eyes were set on him, eyes that touched and poked in ways that felt like they were being hosted by someone, something that considered them to be unwanted guests.

Aegon patted Mīsaragorn's neck with some force, nothing but a feather touch to a dragon and resorted to draw on their bond to get him to focus on Aegon.

Mīsaragorn swivelled his draconic head towards Aegon, half an eye towards the dark corners of the forests that lay in front of them, and the other half firmly set on Aegon as discontent rippled through their bond in discombobulating waves.

'I'm as unhappy as you are about this, brother' Aegon answered quietly to Mīsaragorn 'But you know why I must…I must have answers that they can give me' Aegon answered calmly but firmly, unwilling to waver from the dangerous and desperate path he'd set himself on.

He was at his wits end as to where she could be and he knew that by now, nearly two fortnights later, she could be half way across Essos by now.

He needed to know where she was, if she was alright, if she was safe.

A pang of guilt and sorrow washed over him, their acidic touch borne out from his actions, and it burned a hole in his chest that he knew he could not heal until he found her, until he fixed everything he'd broken for her.

It was the least he could do, the least that he must do. How could he not? 

When he'd driven her away to leave everything she knew and loved all because of his actions, because she felt like she had no other choice but to leave?

Days turned to weeks and he found himself realising, amongst many, many other things, that that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her safe return, no crime he couldn't contemplate, and no atrocity he wouldn't consider. 

He didn't dare contemplate that she was…

Self-contempt pawed its putrid mitts at his being, the thought that she was dead as a consequence of his actions weighed heavily on his conscience.

'No.' fervently rang in his mind. Denial fortified his being more than anything else could or would. She simply couldn't be. He'd bring her home…whatever it took.

Mīsaragorn lips drew back in deeper displeasure, a throaty growl escaping through rows of several inches long teeth, rows of dagger sharp teeth that glistened under the light of a bright full moon, and it was a frightening sight to behold.

Aegon was stone faced as he reached out to Mīsaragorn snout without fear, knowing that he had nothing to fear from the other part of his soul, a part of his soul that he could command and will towards what he needed it to do. What must be done.

Aegon breathed out and reached to their bond again, pushing against the tides of discontent and unsettlement and reached into the very being of Mīsaragorn.

His bond with Mīsaragorn was a thing of beauty, dragon bonds were a thing of beauty, understanding could flow between dragon and rider in ways words or actions could never replicate and he'd found out that such understanding could pushed even further with enough imagination and partnership with one's dragon.

Images of high worn stone walls with moss climbing up them like ice climbing up dewy wet cliffs during the height of winter, two tall towers that seemed as if they were hewn square by the giants themselves flanked an indomitable gate surrounded by a cradle made out of water, protecting it from aggressors.

Yet, as Aegon's expression turned as cold and hard like Valyrian Steel dipped in the waters by the coasts of the Cold North, those same images of a keep that seemed as if it could last a thousand years more were now replaced by the imagery of burning stones and melting faces by the hundreds, young and old, man and child, nothing was spared by the burning blue fires that raged and thrashed, not even the white-ashy tree that towered over the gate.

It was not the only set of burning imagery.

A three sided castle with red sandstone walls surrounded on all three sides by water would not be safe from the spewing blue fires. A castle that moved and thought the swamps of the Neck to be safe from the eyes peered down from the skies would burn all the same.

Images continued on as Aegon showed Mīsaragorn where to go last in his rampage, images of a city at the mouth of a river that Mīsaragorn was to follow, a river that stretched further and further inland until he reached the greatest castle in all of Westeros, a castle that would not burn entirely but it need not burn completely, only enough to ensure the end of their line.

Mīsaragorn blinked as the images stopped his great serpentine sheening eyes piercing down at Aegon and it was as if the moment lasted a lifetime.

He was asking the impossible of Mīsaragorn…to abandon him to his fate should he find himself unable to bargain and they both knew it. For all the power that Aegon wielded over Mīsaragorn, his dragon was strong enough to push against him if only for a time. 

Yet Mīsaragorn would not and did not as he rose to his full height, his great wings disturbing the silent and unmoving waters and earth, and Aegon firmly planted his feet against the earth as Mīsaragorn began to run and take off into the air, leaving him behind and alone for the first time since he was four namedays old.

He watched Mīsaragorn go, and grim acceptance settled upon him, a kind of acceptance he'd found himself more and more attuned to, an acceptance of the sacrifice he needed to make in the face of the objective reality he was in.

The actions he was taking extreme, and chances were that he'd fail and that he'd end up either extremely dead or extremely damned but he cared not nor did he care about the heinousness of his plan. The veneer of threadbare morality that he bound himself to had broken away in the face of what is and not what once was.

And he'd burn down a thousand castles more if it meant They would give him the truthful answers he'd need, answers that could come to save what was important.

Aegon brought out his sword, the sound of steel unsheathing an eerie discordant bell in the deathly silent night, and for a moment simply held the long sword as he stared for a minute towards the darkness that lay beyond the first row of trees.

He stared for a moment longer before Aegon firmly planted the sword into the sands.

Aegon stepped forward, unarmed and undefended and he waited.

It wasn't long before figures began to creep out of the darkness, men draped in cloaks that seemed to be as dark as the abyss from hence they came from, arms locked into one another, and Aegon merely stood there waiting for them to come to him.

He knew little of the green men and Elysar's acolytes that stayed behind on Dragonstone knew no more except perhaps a few more wives' tales that only comes from being told such stories by mothers and grandmothers, passed down the generations as they were.

Stories told in whispers to frighten children of Green Men that rode hordes of giants, or elks or even a giant breed of shadow cats, Green Men that possessed unnatural powers left behind in trust by vengeful Children of the Forest, and Green Men who sacrificed anyone who dared to trespass onto the Isle of Faces to the weirwood trees.

He knew better than to discard stories passed down the generations, however ridiculous they sounded. Especially here in Westeros where there was more truth in stories than in the words spoken by men.

Stories that resonated with what he had watched actually happen in his first life.

At the very least, he thought this place to be a place of magic like that cave North of the Wall, one of the last remnants of ancient magicks that was rooted in the earth, the rivers and the forests, magicks that transcended the limits of human perception.

If a giant Weirwood tree could sustain a man to live beyond twelve decades and longer still if need to be, all while tapping into the magic of weirwood trees that likely aided in seeing the past and future, then Weirwood trees from the time of the Age of Heroes left untouched, undisturbed had to be a font of magic to match it.

Weirwood trees that bore the oldest eyes and presence of the Old Gods.

He avoided coming here, before, his fears and wariness of the Old Gods trumping his curiosity of magic and perhaps answers to his nature and reason he was here, at least until he was better versed in the matters of magic once he found a starting point to learn the practice himself but he had no such luxuries.

Not anymore.

And if he came to an end, or worse, Hodor'd, Mīsaragorn was too far away now and on his way to the Mountains by the Eyrie – where there were no Weirwood trees – and knew not to respond to his calls any time soon, he thought to himself as he felt the sharp edge of the small piece of steel fixed to his bracelet press against his skin.

He believed he'd have enough time to end his life before he lost that fight, should it come to it.

Aegon walked forward, no more a statue fixed in place, his eyes trailing from one cloaked figure to the other. Finally, they came to a stop and he came to a stop mere a few feet from them, his gaze now catching glimpses of crusted faces that seemed like it might be crusted because of dried paint.

"Son of the Long Summer. Why have you come?" the central figure asked calmly as his head tilted slightly, the top of his hood falling backwards enough for his eyes to catch the light of the moon, a sight that almost made it seem as if his eyes were silver in nature.

'Son of the Long Summer…' 

Something clicked in his mind to that phrase…Long Summer…Ah, Aegon realised…it was the name of a region in Valyria that was named the Lands of the Long Summer, a place that was heralded as the most fertile land in all of Planetos.

And it was the true homeland of the Valyrian peoples.

His eyes narrowed slightly, barely enough to be noticeable.

That these people knew such a relatively obscure piece of knowledge was surprising, knowledge that should have been forgotten, even more so that they sought to use that term to name him. Especially since Valyria was long known as simply the Freehold for thousands of years since they were simply sons of the Lands of the Long Summer.

"I have come to seek answers."

"Many have come seeking answers. Few ever find them here." the central figure returned calmly before tilting his head as if he was curious by the sight of him.

"Most never come seeking answers." Aegon replied with cold stoniness, vestiges of familiar feelings rising to the top as he continued. "They seek comforts and escapes, never the truth as it is given."

He only needed to know two things. 

"Yes…" the central figure said, the silver light from the moon fading away to reveal startling green eyes "Yet you're no different than those before you who have set foot on this land." The central figure stated calmly. 

'You seek comfort. You seek escape' the accusation was heard even if unspoken.

Aegon set his jaw, his eyes never wavering as he met the gaze of the Green Man.

Long moments passed before the other figures stepped away from the central figure stepped away. The central Green Man dipped his head before he also stepped away.

"Follow the path until it stops." The central figure said and Aegon began to walk towards the path that began to show itself slightly through the dark mists.

Aegon walked up the steps of these ancient stones, the eerie sounds of the forests the only companion. Moonlight began to filter through the blood red hand shaped leaves, the presence of something other growing with each step that he took.

He'd read accounts of Maesters that detailed their experiences in the North during his quest for knowledge of magic and history, and he remembered one account some few hundred years old that spoke of the peace the weirwood tree at Karhold would bring to even the most unruly child or belligerent man at the keep.

Even claimed that in a way the maester himself had felt the same despite his faith in the New Gods and speculated that it might be the reason why weirwood trees were planted long after by some Andal Lords long after the Andal Invasion.

Aegon felt no such peace as he marched ever closer to his destination.

The sight of faces carved on Weirwood trees became clearer, haunting faces that were all to lifelike in appearance, human faces that seemed to have been transformed into white trees suddenly. Some seemed in pain, others happy, and others as if they knew something you did not.

By the time he arrived at the end of the path, the presence had grown like wide thick ropes were draped over him, the kinds of ropes that were tied to anchors, yet he persevered as he came to a stop to a massive tree taller and thicker and wider than any he'd seen before. 

Its blood red leaves were the size of his hands, its branches seemed uncountable but that was not what captured his attentions, no, it was the face carved on the tree that looked at him. He knew within the depths of his soul that this, this Thing, was truly otherworldly. The presence he'd felt since the moment he'd set foot on this Isle, was focused on him with a million eyes. 

He felt as if nothing was hidden, nothing was unknown to this Being.

A cloud of doubt washed over him as he stood there before the Weirwood tree. He knew that that the chances of getting no answers were high. From either the Old Gods or from the Greenseer – he thought he'd likely speak with a Greenseer before he came but there was none here now – but he hoped, he hoped they could understand his resolve, of how far he was willing to go in order to get the truth.

He made to speak but stopped when he heard rustlings to his left and he jolted to awareness and got to a defensive stance, his heart pounding, and stared at the direction where he'd heard the noise from.

His eyes slowly began to widen until they were all but itching to pop out of his skull as small bare feet began to tread onto the soft wet ground wearing nothing sticks and roots for clothing. 

Its skin was nut-brown, so earthily brown, with scales that seemed as if they were matted leaves stuck on human skin. Its, if it was hair, looked like braided strings of bamboo, odd and alien. 

This…this…he struggled to form words as his eyes latched onto the completely black eyes that shimmered underneath the moonlight. The being came to a stop before him, no more than three and a half or four feet tall, yet its presence made the being seem as if he were a giant. 

This was a Child of the Forest, echoed in his mind.

A Child of the Forest that was South of the Wall.

Aegon wasn't sure of its gender, only that this one seemed faintly male.

"Aegon. First of his Name." 

The voice of the being was melodious, beautiful, the words flowing out of the being's mouth like fine, finest strings of honey caught in the breezes of a warm summer day.

He snapped out of his awe and surprise and shock, his eyes sharpening, webs of shock and enchantment fading away as he remembered why he was here, curiosity and questions laid far behind the singular thing that mattered the most to him.

"I am not the Conqueror. I am his descendant."

The being said nothing to his answer, and walked away past him towards the giant weirwood tree as if he were not there, as if he ceased to exist. 

Aegon did nothing but watch the being carefully with utmost focus as it arrived by the tree, its hand reaching forward before placing it onto the trunk of the tree.

Aegon half expected something, anything, as if the bark of the weirwood tree would undulate into a sea of wood, sucking in the Child of the Forest.

Yet nothing as such happened and moments turned into seconds. Seconds turned into minutes and Aegon's patience began to fray.

"You do not belong here."

The words surprised Aegon as much as the suddenness of it.

The being turned around, his head tilting slightly as if curious.

"I know." Aegon said as calmly as possible, the odd sensation of the presence shifting slightly pushing him on to speak. 

'Was this sensation magic…or was this other? Divine?'

"I seek only two answers. I will leave and not return once I leave here." Aegon told the Child of the Forest, his eyes flickering to the Weirwood tree.

"You do not belong here." The Child of the Forest repeated once more, the shift in its voice noticeable and a flash of anxiety burbled below his determination.

A long few moments of silence passed and Aegon fortified himself before he spoke.

"I know." Aegon said once more, this time whilst he spoke to the Child of the Forest.

"Yet I am alive. Yet I am here. Such is the reality of things." Aegon persisted with a set jaw. The Child of the Forest met his gaze for a few moments before nodding.

"You seek what you had accepted is not yours to have."

"Yes." Aegon said honestly, bowing his head slightly but not without keeping his eyes on the Child of the Forest…and on the Weirwood Tree.

"The Old Gods are powerful. They exist without Time. They can see across Westeros. Hear across Westeros. In the past. In the present." Aegon said with a hard glint in his eyes, memories of Bran and Brynden Rivers going back to the time of Jon's birth at Tower of Joy flashing across the front of his mind.

"I plead to only know where she is and if she is still alive. No more. No less." Aegon finished. He could not demand, only plead and ask and beg if he had to.

"And if We do not give you the answers?" the Child of the Forest inquired.

'…We' what did that mean? Conduit? Hive-mind?

His mind momentarily flashed to ideas of Id and Ego before fading away and Aegon clenched his jaws as he stared down at the Child of the Forest, his eyes darkening as he prepared himself for death.

"I will do what I must to convince you otherwise." 

For the first time, Aegon saw something else other than idle curiosity on the Child of the Forest's face. It was hardness. It was fury behind a mask of stone.

"Your Song is not Ours. Be grateful." The being's voice was no more a soft melody made physical but more akin to the sound trees made when roused into turbulence by the force of strong winds and the presence around him grew stronger in hostility but Aegon did not break eye contact despite the danger he knew he was in.

'Your Song is not ours…' 

Aegon bowed his head again. 

"I do not mean you malice or harm. I am only desperate" he added honestly.

He knew that all of this was of his own making. 

His own stubbornness. His selfishness. His fear.

His inability to accept reality as it was, rather than how he wanted it to be, how he had known it to be. Numbing himself to the realities of the world instead of accepting the world as it was and that he was Aegon, Son of Baelon and all that came with it.

'Prince. Son. Brother. Friend. Protector.'

And his hate for and fear of God – or whatever Being it was – and his meaningless and asinine rebellion to spite Him/It blinded him to the harm he was putting upon himself and those around him. Those who he had come to care for.

And it had all stemmed from his fear.

'What are you afraid of?'

A question he had to confront himself with in ways he had paradoxically avoided and plagued himself with for so much in this second life 

Fear of God. 

Fear of attachment. 

Of meaning. 

Of finding purpose.

Of living.

Fear drove him to run. Running from responsibility. From those who meant something to him in this life of his. From the wrong he saw in this world, from the good that he could do.

Choosing to run towards the unknown, mysteries and lands alike, uncaring of what he was choosing to leave behind and he'd revelled in this idea of freedom.

Just as he revelled in his loneliness. In his insignificance. In his arrogance.

And he'd believed it all to be freedom, the ultimate freedom, believing that he was winning when in reality he was nothing but a slave to his fear.

And for so long, he allowed…fear…fear to impact how he saw everything.

For almost fourteen years, he never considered this truly to be his world, his people, his family, blind as he was by his fear and his inability to accept reality as it was.

And in that consideration, he'd purposefully ignored and let fear hide the impact he could have, the impact he should have, on this world, his people and on his family.

And the one positive impact he did have, the mitigation of the circumstances that led to the Dance, was borne more out of guilt than anything else just as selfishness and fear had driven to impact the last person he wanted to hurt through his actions…by his selfishness and inconsideration.

These weeks since her disappearance had been akin to ice cold water thrown on his bare body, a tearing shock to the system that ripped off the veil made of threadbare morality and values that benefited neither him or society and fear which blinded him.

…had this been the kind of man he wanted to be? 

Careless and selfish and self-pitying and afraid, someone who would use someone like Gael, someone who had been a haven of normality for him, who offered him freely a sense of genuineness and friendship and peace that he'd scarcely found elsewhere, someone who he helped grow and shared stories with in a way that he would do for no other?

And then force her into a position she did not want to be in, knowing how little choice she has as a daughter of a King, knowing that the impact he's had on her is the reason why she can't marry anyone else other than someone in their family?

Those were the kind of questions he'd asked himself amidst his search for Gael, amidst his attempts to rectify the damage he'd created.

…and he found himself lacking.

Hmm…

Hadn't that been a truly sobering moment?

When he realised that fear…that fear had turned him into a lesser man.

That fear led him to squander his position of supreme privilege, that fear led him to refuse to consider his family family despite the closeness he had wanted, craved for, revelled in with members of his family, and that fear of what he could do for this world with the knowledge he possessed made him instead run seeking aimless adventure.

And in that awful realisation, of what truly drove him, it was as if a mirror shattered in his mind and forced him to see himself…to see the reflection of the distorted man that he was…a man who'd warred with himself in almost every action he was doing.

Running. Fighting. Kinship. Distance. Leader. Loner.

Awful realisation that was a blessing of the greatest proportions…and it only took painful consequence of his actions for him to see it.

And he knew then, after that realisation, that a life without responsibility was an impossibility…just as his old values and morality were an impossibility.

Aegon…and Aegon was accepting of that.

Once…once he'd wanted to know what meaning there was in this second life of his, why it was granted, and often feared he could be plucked out in life just as easily as he'd been in death, all at the whims of Him/It. 

He knew intrinsically now, something he'd wilfully tried for so long to avoid to see, it didn't matter that he was helpless against God or whatever brought him here. It didn't matter if it would or could happen.

Because in the end…it rained when it rained.

It snowed when it snowed. 

And it burnt when it burnt. 

What will be, will be and the only thing that he had any control over, beyond his actions, that he should have control over, is what meaning he would give to this life. 

And what meaning he'd take out of it.

He found a reason to live in Mīsaragorn. 

And now, he had to find the meanings to his life. 

And to live without fear.

And to do so with purpose.

He did not know what Purpose he'd find, now, but the one thing he did know with certainty, something he never questioned but hadn't valued, was that Gael held meaning to his life, in whatever way that may manifest.

And now…

He'd do whatever it took to make sure Gael would live to find meaning in her own life. He owed that and so much more to her.

And the price he'd pay for the answers he'd need to find her, to Beings beyond his comprehension, beyond humanity, was a price he'd pay without fail.

Even if it would cost him much.

"We know desperation." The Child of the Forest said. "And the price it pays."

Aegon's eyes grew dim, his mind going to thoughts of the war between the First Men and the Children and the Forest before he fixed his face again.

"And is there a price here?" Aegon asked with a hard face though resigned acceptance pervaded through him. 

"If I ask for your life?" the Child of the Forest simply voiced out.

Aegon did not look away from the Child of the Forest's inquisitive but shrewish shrew eyes.

"I would give it once I have brought her home. Safe and whole." Aegon answered truthfully. How ironic it was that he'd pay for her life with his own life just as he found himself on the verge of finding a purpose in life.

Yet, there was a kind of poetic relief, in a way. There was a kind of symbolism, his life for her life, knowing that she held the most meaning of anyone alive to him and knowing it was his actions that led to this, and it was a price worth paying.

The Child of the Forest said nothing before it turned and placed its hand on the Weirwood tree, leaving Aegon uncertain of what was to come.

Minutes, or maybe it just felt like minutes, passed before the Child of the Forest turned around and picked up something in the gap between the roots of the tree.

The Child of the Forest began to walk towards and he stayed rooted to the spot.

The Child of the Forest extended out its hand revealing a seed of some kind.

Aegon turned his gaze back to the Child of the Forest and the being began to speak.

"You will plant this Weirwood seed after you lay your city." Aegon frowned 'your city' "That is the price." The Child of the Forest stated.

"Why?" Aegon asked surprised at the simple offer. 

'Your city…' he wondered at the words. When would he even build one?

Though, as he thought about it, concern and wariness bubbled within him. 

The Child of the Forest didn't give anything away in its expressions and it raised the concern levels and distrust within him. He knew weirwood trees were perfect spying tools that saw the past and the present…and the future it seems like.

At least in some capacity.

But what he didn't know, and possibly may never know, was what else the weirwood trees could do. Bran Stark had been capable of reaching out to the past via the weirwood trees. 

That much was clear when Younger-Ned Stark turned around as if he heard a voice.

Could the weirwood trees do more? He suspected 'Yes'.

"You asked for two answers. You shall receive two answers."

Aegon clenched his teeth. Finally, after a few moments, he nodded tightly.

"I swear that I shall plant this Weirwood tree after I build…my city." Aegon swore as he picked up the odd seed. There were tales of how to plant weirwood trees…of the sacrifice needed to grow one. So be it.

The presence around him grew heavier before receding slightly and he got the feeling that the oath he'd given was bound to him beyond the physical.

Aegon thinned his lips but said nothing, the urge to think of ways to walk around the oath tremendous yet he resisted, unwilling as he as to test the patience or mercy of the Old Gods.

Anyway…he thought as he pushed the matter further into his mind. 

It is a problem for another day.

The Child of the Forest accepted his words before he spoke. 

"She will return to your Kings Landing safely in two moon's time." 

"It doesn't answer where she is now." Aegon said with forced calm. 

'If she's safe now'.

The Child of the Forest was silent and it was deafening. 

Aegon clenched his teeth, tempestuous fraught fury burbled within him yet he forced himself to calm down, forced himself to think.

'…They seek comforts and escapes, never the truth as it is given'

He narrowed his eyes at the Child who looked at him impassively and he realised that his visit had been for naught. She would have returned regardless, he realised.

Safely.

Fuck. He got played.

Now he had this weirwood seed he would have to plant in exchange for knowledge that he couldn't act on and only served to comfort him.

He wanted to argue that he wanted the full truth, not comfort, but seeing the Child's face, he knew he'd get nothing more out of it.

"If she dies…" Aegon trailed off quietly. He held no trust in the being before him, that it wouldn't seek to play him further and fear of Gods was dimmed in his desire to see her safe. The Child's interpretation of safely could mean anything.

"All die. All fade." The Child of the Forest said with a curious tilt of the head before adding. "For your lost, that time has yet to be."

Aegon let out an audible breath before he forced himself to nod tightly.

He didn't get what he wanted, exactly, but it was far better than the alternatives.

Yet it tasted sour. Bitter.

"Thank you" Aegon said tightly as he veered his gaze towards the huge weirwood tree. He returned his gaze towards the Child of the Forest.

The Child of the Forest's expression grew hard.

"I do not do this for you. Your Song-That-Which-Does-Not-Belong has altered what was sung to be. The Old Gods have accepted that. It is their Will." The Child of the Forest said.

Aegon said nothing to that and instead bowed his head to the Child of the Forest before bowing to the Weirwood Tree and before he'd turn and leave and never return, he left one thing to say. "I will not forget the gift you have given me today."

'Nor will I forget the way I got played' he thought to himself.

'Or what I have done, will do, to change the song of ice and fire'

Still…

He thought as he turned around and walked down the path back to shore, his hand clutching tightly onto the weirwood seed, he had hope now that she'd be okay.

And it was worth whatever nefarious magical shenanigans the Children of the Forest and the Old Gods could pull on him…and his supposed city, a city, an idea that would rest on his mind for long after he left the Isle of Faces.

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Mid to Late 99 AC, Nearby the Duskendale road off of the Coast of the sea

Bartimos Celtigar POV

The sound of hooves was thunderous as they rode and rode.

Low limestone hills flashed passed them as they rode onto the muddy path, the salty air tasting sour on their tongue as they rode with post-haste. The Prince's safeguard plan of ensuring at least one knight would be able to ride off to warn the other party had paid off. He desperately hoped it was not too late.

The fishing village came into view, the sounds of swords clashing a dull bell carried by the salty winds. "To the Prince!" Bartimos roared as he kicked his horse into a faster pace, his men roaring with him.

As they passed through the edge of the village, Bartimos saw the Prince in his distinctive crimson and blue armour fighting with his men outnumbered two to one at the centre of the village with dead horses by the inn. The bandits were pressing hard, desperately, but the Prince and the surviving knights were holding their own having gotten into a formation that left none exposed. 

Bartimos unsheathed his sword as his horse galloped towards the bandits, his men veering off in a classic encirclement manoeuvre.

The bandits were panicked as they realised the danger they were in in the face of Bartimos and his men rushing forward and some tried to break off their assault on the Prince but Prince Aegon did not allow them too.

After moons of frustration, of chasing ghosts, they'd finally come to know from some rumours amongst the commonfolk in the inland villages that the bandits favoured hiding amongst the many, many fishing villages by Duskendale and Rosby.

Rumours that looked to be true once they looked at where exactly the bandits were reported to have attacked. There was a routine, a pattern, the Prince had said, and it was that pattern that caused them to split up to cover more ground. 

And finally, they have struck gold.

Bartimos raised his sword, the longsword gleaming under the light of the morning sun, and swung it downwards towards the bandit he targeted at the edge of the battle and caught the bandit on the neck, his gurgled cries a muted whisper amidst sounds of clashing swords and shouts.

The sight of many of the bandits dying struck panic in their hearts, an advantage that the Prince was quick to seize upon as he stepped up his assault. 

His sword was a blur as he pressed forward like a madman, his feet gliding across the ground with effortless ease despite the blood and gut that began to tar the dusty brown earth. The knights around him matched the Prince step by step

Bartimos cut down two more before, his breath burned in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest, and the bandits broke, some of them throwing away their swords in surrender whilst others found a gap to slink away in though Bartimos' men were on the chase, already seeing one bandit cut down with a sword through their chest.

Bartimos spared a look towards his squire, Eldric Sunglass, and saw that he was still fine and atop his horse surrounded by one of the knights Bartimos had tasked to look after. Good, Bartimos thought to himself.

Once Prince Aegon's knights began to group the prisoners and tie ropes around their wrists, Bartimos hopped off of his horse and made way towards the Prince though he spared a look towards the dead knights separated from the dead bandits.

Out of the two dozen men the Prince took with him, eight were dead.

Most of the dead were nameless knights, hedge knights, that had little ties to anyone. Though were two, he noted, that were Knightly Houses from the Westerlands.

There were a few nicks on the Prince's armour but nothing that couldn't be buffed out. Prince Aegon took a long glance around, his gaze trailing towards the closed windows of the homes nearby. 

He must have been satisfied for he removed his helm, beads of sweat running down his face before his mismatched hard eyes latched onto Bartimos' own. 

Bartimos eyed his friend a little warily. He'd seen that hardness take root in his friend, more and more as the days and moons passed by.

"My Prince." Bartimos said with a bowed head.

"We will leave at once. Duskendale is the closest castle to this village." Prince Aegon's mouth twisted with a twitch of annoyance. "We won't make it before night, not with the few horses we have between us and the prisoners. We'll have to camp it out" he said as he glanced at the dead men that died in service of the Crown.

Bartimos knew that the Prince wouldn't ride ahead without all of the men.

Bartimos nodded, his gaze veering towards the dead horses before he returned to look to the prince. "How did that happen, my Prince?" 

Prince Aegon's lips thinned as he side glanced towards the villagers who were pooled around a few of the homes, chattering away with each other.

"When we rode into the village, we noticed one of the carriages as described by the merchant of Rosby." The merchant had been extensively questioned by them. 

Their numbers, the armour and weapons they had.

It had proved to be little value. It was just like the other statements of merchants that had been lucky to have been spared. Numbers were uncertain, only some of the bandits had features that were distinct and generally speaking, the bandits had been smart.

They never targeted the same routes within the same timeframe nor did they attack routes that were routinely patrolled by the men of Sow's Horn, the Stokeworth, Rosby and Duskendale. The Crownsland Lords were unable to hunt the bandits down which had been why they turned to the Crown for support.

Not surprising too since they were better armed than he could have thought. 

They bore steel swords and some of them even had leather armour Houses would give out to their smallfolk levies.

"One of the villagers looked nervous when we inspected it which was when we unhorsed" Prince Aegon swiped his gauntlet across his forehead.

"We figured it was likely that same carriage and began to question the villager. At that point, we were ambushed by the bandits." Prince Aegon turned his gaze towards Bartimos, a faint smile on his face "Fortunately, Dallen did his duty."

Dallen Flay was the knight that alerted Bartimos and his men to the plight of the Prince. A former hedge knight that they'd met in the Reach during the procession and offered his sword to the Prince. Bartimos nodded. Most knights would be aghast at having to 'run' from a battle but none could deny a Prince.

The Prince insisted they bury the dead away from the village instead of letting the bodies rot, an act that was queer yet the men followed nonetheless. Bartimos didn't fail to see the grateful looks of the silent villagers. 

Nor did he fail to see some angry ones.

The bandits, it seemed, were not entirely without honour. Or perhaps it was another show of their uncanny intelligence as he thought it was. A fraction of the goods and coin they stole were dispersed amongst the villages around these parts.

The Darklyns were harsh on the fishermen, demanding more of the catch than what was decent from the villagers, often leaving them with only just enough coin to ensure the health of their families. A story they'd heard a number of times throughout their hunt for the bandits thinking the Prince could do something about it.

The Prince wouldn't have been able to, even if his shunning wasn't as severe as it was now. It was within the rights of Lord Darklyn and the King would not intervene on behalf of the commonfolk as long as Lord Darklyn did not go too far.

By the time night fell, they'd make camp by the sea, enough firewood having been scrounged up to make several fires. Bartimos and Eldric were by the Prince, as were a few other knights, the conversation flowing though not much was said by the Prince. The Prince didn't say much these days.

After Princess Gael disappeared, it seemed as if most of the Royal Family took to blame the Prince, as if he were responsible. Bartimos hadn't understood that one bit and neither did anyone at court really know what happened but that didn't matter.

Prince Aegon was shunned by his family and so, in turn, he was shunned and abandoned by the court and even some of the heirs to Houses they had befriended during the procession. Bartimos had been wroth at them, the friendship they had struck meaningless and betrayed the Prince's confidence, feeding rumours callously like that the Prince had been untoward the Princess which made her run away.

Bartimos glanced at the Prince. 

It seemed however, the Prince hadn't cared at all anyway, too busy in searching every inch of Kingslanding and the nearby towns for Gael for over a fortnight, independent from the Kingsmen, and that helped lead the Prince to be forced to deal with the bandits that had stepped up their thievery and criminality around these parts.

The Prince hadn't raged at the dismissal from Kings Landing, nor did he rage at being sent on this mission without a Kingsguard in tow, and simply carried on with a quiet zealousness that was almost frightening when he'd return two days later after he'd left them on the back of Mīsaragorn.

The Prince suddenly stood up, startling conversation into silence and made way towards the camp where the six prisoners were being held.

Prince Aegon sat across from the bandits, the crackling fire between them, his gaze fixed onto a blond haggard looking man. Dirt and blood caked on the sorry man, the fires danced in the bandit's blue eyes as the bandit met the Prince's unblinking gaze carefully, a tinge of fear showing but no more than that. 

The area quieted to a hush, the knights that stood behind the bandits had their hands on their hilts, ready to strike down the bandits if they moved in but a twitch.

"What is your name?" the Prince asked, his voice calm yet there was an undercurrent of authority that they all sensed. The blond man looked surprised at the question.

"Larris" the blonde man finally answered carefully.

"Family name?" the Prince asked. Bartimos suppressed the urge of curiosity choosing to instead to simply watch.

The blonde man raised his eyebrow questioningly. "My family are simple fishers. We do not have a family name." the blonde man jerked his head to his fellow bandits.

"They don't either." The blonde man, Larris, had the temerity to half-grin at the Prince. "We are not like you. My Prince." Larris said with a note of mocking which made the knights to begin unsheathing their swords.

Prince Aegon raised his hand towards the knights stopping them in their motion.

"Larris" Prince Aegon acknowledged much to Bartimos' surprise and seemingly to everyone else's too. "Tell me why you chose to rob merchants."

Larris seemed surprised by the question before he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Does it matter?" there was a note of bitterness in his voice.

"No." the Prince answered bluntly. "It does not change the fact that you will be punished." The Prince's gaze darted towards the last surviving bandits.

"Likely by beheading or the Wall." The prince returned his gaze towards Larris. The other bandits seemed fearful at the Prince's statement. They shouldn't have been surprised. How else did they think their thievery and murder would end? "But if you tell me why, I will see to it that none of you lose a hand should you chose the wall."

Larris was silent for a few moments before taking a glance at the other bandits and turned back towards the Prince. The bandit scowled and began to speak although he didn't meet the Prince's unwavering gaze who had narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Lord Darklyn takes nearly all of our fish, our hard work and doesn't pay us for it. We didn't like that so we took back what we could from the thief." Larris looked up and met the Prince's gaze. "Some of the merchants fought back" the bandit shrugged "Accidents happen." The bandit said with a grim smile before grunting out

"Simple as that." 

The Prince said nothing, simply staring at the bandit. Long moments passed for the Prince spoke up, his head tilting slightly "As simple as that? I don't think so."

The Prince leaned forward, his eyes set on the bandit "I noticed twin villages four leagues away from Duskendale looked much better off than the other villages."

"Not at first glance of course but if you looked closer…" the Prince trailed off.

Bartimos didn't fail to see the bandit stiffen, neither the look of fear of the other bandits. The Prince continued "Which was surprising" the Prince smiled thinly.

"What was even more surprising was how tight lipped the villagers were on how they got what they had." The blonde bandit was tightly wound now, his gaze piercing a hole into the Prince.

"What did you do?" the bandit's voice was straining with the forceful calm he managed to speak with and the Prince smiled at the bandit before leaning in.

"Nothing." The Prince intoned which drew the bandit short, his face slacked in surprise and confusion. The Prince continued "I do not blame the innocent for the crimes of others, Larris." The Prince's expression was grave.

Larris slumped and began a sordid tale of how one of the bandits, killed in the battle, had a mother who'd gotten sick from something they didn't know. They'd banded together to fish tirelessly hoping to sell the remainder of their catch at the Duskendale market once they'd paid their dues to Lord Darklyn and hire a healer for her.

Only, nearly all of it was taken from them, leaving them just enough to eat and in the end the bandit's friend's' mother had died from her illness leaving them embittered and angry. From there, they'd found others like them angry at the injustices of the Lord. The few merchants they killed were merchants that others in their group had grievances with and the rest was history.

Aegon had then asked if there were any other villagers sickly in their lands, much to the surprise the bandits and everyone else. Larris explained there were a few, many of whom suffered from simple ailments but still needed medicine, medicine bought with coin they thieved. 

It didn't need to be said that such medicine would be hard to come by again.

Aegon did not promise that he'd get them the medicine, only telling them he'd see what he could do for the villagers before he told them bluntly their story will not matter and that they will be sentenced to the Wall or death but he'd advocate that the Wall could use young men like them paying off their crimes in life so that in death they may be welcomed by the Seven. 

It seemed like the bandits had taken those words to heart.

By the time a few more hours had passed by, Bartimos was the only one awake, other than guards further away on watch duty and the Prince himself. Neither of them spoke for a long while, the Prince electing to stare at the flames he was far too close to rather than indulge in drink or wine.

Bartimos couldn't quite stand the silence nor could he sleep so decided to speak instead "Why did you want to know? Really?" he asked the Prince.

The Prince said nothing for a while and Bartimos thought he wasn't going to get an answer. Until he did. "I was after his motivations." The Prince took his gaze away from the fire for a moment and looked at Bartimos. "I wasn't disappointed."

Bartimos frowned at that answer.

The Prince continued "Most people of Westeros" The Prince said as he moved his hand closer to the crackling fire which alarmed Bartimos "Have simple motivations. To survive. To provide for their families. To live an unbothered life."

"You mean the commonfolk" Bartimos stated and the Prince hummed in agreement.

"Yes. The commonfolk." The Prince said that a little strangely and moved his hand closer to the fire. "Safety and security. There is a beautiful simplicity in it that I envy." The Prince said with a twist of his lips, his hand moving closer to the flame.

"And when that is threatened…" the Prince trailed off for a moment before continuing "When that is destroyed or there is little else left to them but to resort to such actions, it is an eventuality that people lash out in some way" the Prince moved his hand into the fire and Bartimos stood up but he knew he was too far to stop i-

Bartimos' eyebrows raised to his hairline, his mouth slackening as it hung loose.

"M-my…" Bartimos began breathlessly as he watched Aegon twist his hand into the fire without being burnt. Aegon drew out his hand from the fire, keenly eying his hand. Bartimos had heard the stories from his kin. That some of the Targaryens could withstand the fires and be unburnt.

The Prince turned towards him, a faint smile on his face before he clenched his hand. 

"Sit Bartimos." The Prince said gently.

"How?" Bartimos asked as he plodded down onto the fallen tree trunk.

The Prince only shrugged "I do not know. I can only guess that it is a talent that pops up into my family line, once every few generations." The Prince looked at Bartimos, the flames dancing in his mismatched eyes, a faint smile on his face.

The first time he'd seen the Prince smile in three moons.

Bartimos stared at the Prince for a long while. He hadn't much thought about the stories his kin often told him as a child. He thought them to be exaggerations, tales that unnecessarily exemplified their overlords. Mayhaps that was a touch too hasty.

Bartimos shook his head lightly, his gaze now curious. 

"Does Prince Baelon know?"

"He does not. None of my family knows." The Prince told Bartimos.

"Ah." Bartimos said a little uneasily.

He wasn't sure what to say to that…or the fact that the Prince was fireproof. He wondered…was the Prince also dragon-fire proof? 

His mind was distracted in the long moments of silence that fell upon them. The distraction was broken when the Prince turned to him, an odd look on his face.

 He turned back towards the flames, the last traces of his smile burning out like the tails of the flames of the campfire. "Larris and his folk are not terrible men. Only desperate men without many other choices. A shame it had to come to this." 

The Prince hummed quietly as he paused for a second, his gaze set intensely on the flames. "Their motivations are justified in their own little ways."

The odd look grew on his face as he spoke strangely. "I wonder what they could have accomplished if they had many more choices."

The Prince stood up, startling Bartimos and he looked up to meet the Prince's gaze.

There was an odd look on his face, a look of…appreciation…?

"Thank you Bartimos." The Prince said suddenly with intensity before turning on his heel towards the area the Prince had marked out for his rest leaving him behind flummoxed and confused. 

"For what?" Bartimos muttered and it would be a question that long remained on his mind.

The next day they arrived at Duskendale, the sight of the bandits in ropes delighted Lord Darklyn. There had been a touch of tension when the Prince refused to hand over the bandits to Lord Darklyn for judgment instead telling him that the Crown would see to their punishment, something that displeased Lord Darklyn though the man seemed to move past it and asked the Prince and Bartimos to stay overnight.

The Prince had not been keen, he knew this but decided anyway knowing that to reach Kingslanding would take a day and most of the nights' ride without pause.

The Prince had also sent a Raven to Kings Landing to inform the Council of his success in apprehending the bandits but Bartimos didn't expect a response from the capital.

It was the next day, much to his surprise, when the maester received a raven from Kingslanding and it changed everything. Princess Gael had returned.

----------------------------------------------Break----------------------------------------------

Mid to Late 99 AC, Kingslanding

Gael POV

Her return to Kingslanding was bittersweet, at least in the beginning. 

Even her father looked joyful and relieved to see her return. Seeing her mother again had been her in tears, especially when she came to know her mother's health had taken a turn for the worst. 

She felt guilty, so guilty yet her mother had waved it all away, simply joyful that she'd returned – even if it was with her hair cropped as it was. It had been necessary then, just as it had been necessary to die her hair black.

There were not many silver haired women in Tumbler's Falls or in the other towns and villages her and the troupe stayed.

It took less than two days for the worst to come to pass, the dreaded questioning where she'd been. She'd refused to answer, out of shame and guilt, even standing up to her father who'd asked her bluntly and angered if she'd sullied herself.

She cringed as she thought back on what she said to her father. That if he wanted to be sure why he wouldn't simply order a septa to see if she still had her maidenhood, that she wasn't another disappointment like Saerra had been.

Her father had simply walked out and hadn't come see her since.

Neither had he followed up on her caustic dare to humiliate her for the sake of peace of mind. She supposed she should be grateful about that.

She looked at the skies, light dimming as sunset approached.

Her mind waded away, lost as it was in with her swimming thoughts.

She wanted to get away, away from the overbearing presence of her father, away from Baelon who couldn't stand to look at her in the same way she could not look at him, and away from heartbreak. She just wanted to be away from it all.

To pretend to be someone else for a little while, to live another's life.

"What do you think of this colour?"

She was drawn out of her thoughts and turned towards Aemma who was scrutinising a few silk strips of cloth. The one she was looking at was an odd maroon colour.

"I think it would work, no?" Aemma said with squinted eyes as she lifted the cloth, her other hand rubbing her belly lovingly. Aemma was again pregnant, three moons pregnant. "I think it would fit well with the black."

Gael smiled faintly. "I think it could." She agreed and Aemma turned towards her, a warm smile blooming across her face. Aemma was the only one other than her mother to keep her company whilst she was locked in this room.

She didn't think she'd be forgiven for this for some time yet. Gael sighed silently. She hadn't really expected anything different.

She returned her attentions towards Aemma. Still, she was grateful for the company.

More so for the non-judgement Aemma levied on her unlike the rest of her family.

Another hour or so had passed until she heard a commotion by the doors that startled them both and it was moments later that the doors opened wide, as wide as her eyes had widened when she realised who it was.

He was still somewhat clad in his distinctive crimson and blue armour, as if he'd come straight from a battle, and Aegon came to a halt when his gazed latched onto hers. Time seemed to come to a crawl as complicated feelings danced in the pit of her stomach which was deepened when Aegon lowly voiced out her name.

Gael got up, swallowing the lump in her throat as the guards came in with Baelon and Viserys in tow, both of them visibly unhappy.

She'd heard from Aemma, reluctantly, about where Aegon was when she'd come with the courage to ask about him. To say she was angry would be understating it.

They'd blamed him for her disappearance, her moment of madness and selfishness and he hadn't deserved that. Seeing the look on his face, relieve and guilt laced in his face all at the same time, she could see that he must feel like it was his fault.

"Please leave." Gael softly said, her gaze never leaving Aegon. Aegon's face changed, stricken by her words and she realised that he thought she meant him.

"Aegon, brother, you've heard our aunt." Viserys tried. 

He was about to speak but Gael interjected.

"No, I mean everyone else." Gael stated firmly, finding her inner strength again.

This surprised everyone as they looked to her. She finally looked away from Aegon's gaze and towards her brother. Baelon looked at her with an unreadable expression.

When she heard that father considering making them marry from Baelon, she had felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew that Baelon still loved Alyssa, a sister that she barely remembered, and she too loved someone else. 

She couldn't see Baelon as her husband and with her as a dragonrider, she also knew she would never be able to marry anyone else lest another Velaryon situation occur.

That meant that if she refused, father probably would have given her to the faith, mayhaps with force if need be, and possibly even have Liāzmariña killed to make sure that she wouldn't end up another Aerea or worse, in his mind, another Saerra with a dragon to boot.

Yet what devastated her the most was it was Aegon that suggested it, that pushed her father into considering it. She felt…she felt betrayed like never before.

She had to leave and she remembered the offer Baldwyn, the bard, made to her…an offer that came with the promise of adventure and song and simply forgetting who she was, if only for a little time. It had been foolish, so, so stupid but she wanted to forget she was Gael and soon married to her much older brother.

And…

She wanted, once in her life, to live an adventure she knew would be denied of her.

And it had been adventurous, journeys on the road and forests and stays at lively inns or rowdy and filthy inns, and it was full of song and merry wherever they played yet it had also been dangerous. 

She hadn't been blind yet for the first time in her sheltered life, she'd seen how the majority of people in Westeros truly lived like and it had been as eye-opening as it was distressing. And she'd seen how…unmoral men could be like.

She was truly thankful to the Seven the troupe wouldn't abide any harm to her. They hadn't known who she truly was, only Baldwyn had known, but had taken care of her as if she'd been one of them for many years.

Still…

It had felt wrong to her the moment she'd left Kings Landing, an itch that grew in strength until it was all but a hanging limb. It had been an escape, a fantasy that didn't fit, would never have fitted and it had been so wrong of her to do so.

It mayhaps have only been the dread of returning to Kings Landing that pushed her to stay away for as long as she did, knowing that it would not be long before she was wed to Baelon.

She sighed silently. Still…she very much regretted it…leaving. Having seen her mother the way she was, she felt guilty by what she'd put her and father through.

"Are you sure?" Baelon asked.

Gael gave a shy glance to Aegon before she met Baelon's eyes again and she nodded tremulously. Baelon met her gaze for a few moments before she saw him relent.

"Let's go. Viserys. Aemma." Baelon commanded. Viserys frowned slightly, a look of concern on his face as he looked to Gael but obeyed nonetheless.

The concern in her brother's eyes broke her heart and she felt flood with immense guilt at what her actions had caused. The distrust, the anger Baelon felt was not for her but Aegon who was blameless in her folly.

Aemma grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently before she moved to leave, only sparing one more look, one that looked to be encouragement before she also left, leaving only Aegon and Gael behind.

Neither of them said anything for a long while, both of them simply staring at one another. She wondered if he also didn't know what to say.

A dim smile came across Aegon's face when he spoke, the silence was finally broken. "I'm very glad to see you are fine." 

His voice was tender. She also gave him a weak smile.

"It is good to see you." 'To see you healthy, to speak with you, to see you smile'

She awkwardly waved him to sit down by the cushioned bench by her as she slowly sat down. Aegon did as she asked, moving slowly with clinking steps.

After he sat down, there once more a long silence. She took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He was tired, his face a little thinner.

He looked older.

Aegon met her gaze, sincerity etched into his face. 

"I am sorry Gael." Aegon said as he closed his eyes. "I am sorry that you felt you had to leave, to escape, because of my actions. If I ha-"

"Aegon." Gael's hand flew towards his, her hand resting on top of his and she saw the words die on the tip of his tongue. Her heart raced at the touch, at feeling his skin again. She squeezed gently, mustering up her strength.

"It isn't your fault." She said with sad smile. "It was my choice to leave. Really."

"It was I that forced your hand." Aegon said with a set jaw, his expression hard and his eyelids drooping lowly. "I know you Gael…you would not have acted in this way without feeling like you had no choice…that it was the only choice."

Gael swallowed and she looked away from him.

Aegon continued with a solemn note "I was careless. Selfish. I am sorry." 

Gael closed her eyes, her emotions threatening to overcome her. 

"I forgive you" she said as she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

Aegon bowed his head and placed his other hand on top of hers.

"I do not deserve it" 

'Yes you do…I know it has been terrible for you' she thought sadly and guiltily.

She fixed a smile.

"Well, I've given it. Regardless if you believe you deserve or not" Gael said with a primly note to her voice, and it caused Aegon's lips to twitch ever so slightly.

Aegon's expression grew more serious moments after, his eyes shining with concern, and it was clear there were questions on the tip of his tongue.

Sometimes he could be so easily read just by his face alone. By his eyes.

It was strange, she thought to herself, especially as other times his face could be like a stone with no hints what he's thinking at all.

"I haven't told anyone" Gael told him, her gaze now on their touching hands. "Where I went and what I have done." Gael smiled a little though it was tight.

"Will you tell me?" Aegon asked quietly. 

She looked up and met his gaze, a gaze that sat on a patient face, eyes that shone with a brightness to match the most precious of gems.

She'd always loved his eyes. 

Bright violet and the other bright jade and under certain light, the jade eye looked it possessed traces of sapphire blues. Beautiful.

Just as it was beautiful the way his eyes that looked upon the world like a mystery that needed to be unravelled, to be opened up like the tomes and texts she'd often seen him buried in between in their youth. 

Eyes that had seen her as a person, eyes that had seen her as she was, and not as she retreated often into in her younger days. 'Dim Gael', 'Frightened little girl', 'There is something wrong with her, like Daella'. 

Her mouth opened up and words spilled.

She told him about the Baldwyn the bard, the bard that she'd ran into during her escape to Aegon and whom she'd met again upon the end of their precession. 

He and his troupe impressed the court so much that they'd been allowed to remain within the Red Keep, within one of the lesser apartments that typically housed the lesser nobility, for a few days.

It was how she'd met him again and she told Aegon that it had been easy to talk to him, to forget her woes as he told her stories of his and that of his troupes', stories that sparked the imagination as he weaved his stories of song in towns and villages and lordly castles and for a moment she'd wondered what a life as such could be like.

Her voice turned quieter when she told him about the conversation she had with Baelon – her eyes looked away from Aegon at this point of the story – and how she'd felt like she couldn't breathe, how she needed to leave and she'd taken the bard's offer on a whim.

She told him about her escape, timing as she did with the troupe's departure, about how she'd cut her hair and how she'd dyed it black before she left the castle through the secret pathway that led towards the cliffs beyond the castle walls.

The words fell easier after that as she told him about the journey out of Kings Landing and her meeting of the troupe members – Jobyn, Catlina, Erik and the others – and her introduction as a servant of the Red Keep who wanted to travel with them for a little while. 

Gael laughed a little when she spoke next, about how a few of the troupe didn't believe a word of Baldwyn's but had played along with it. They of course didn't suspect her to be who she was, and had thought her a Lord's or merchant's daughter. Still, she told him that she'd been lucky they were good people and she silently thanked the Seven for looking out for her.

She continued her tale, telling Aegon about the town halls they played in, the villages and the taverns and inns, the merriment and the ugly – there was much ugliness…and danger in that ugliness – and she told him about the people she'd seen for the first time in her life. The poor, the wealthy, and everything in between, a world she'd never truly seen beyond the walls of being a Targaryen Princess.

Aegon had listened solemnly and with interest, his attentions never wavering as she told her tale truthfully about everything she'd been up to in the past three moons. 

It was always easier to talk to him than any other.

She enjoyed shocking Aegon as she told him that she played Dornish nakers to earn her keep and she was not bad at it – 'Like a horse, she can keep a gallop' as Jobyn once said about her drum-play – and her tale had been easier, smoother, and she'd been smiling throughout it…until she got to the end.

She told him about despite the fun, despite the adventure she was living, she'd known from the start that she was…running. From her life…from her duty and the feelings of worry for her parents, and shame of what she was doing to their House, and guilt for how much worry she was putting their family in, became too much.

There was a long moment of silence after she finished and she kept her gaze fixed on their entwined hands, unable to meet his gaze for fear of judgement.

Guilt gnawed at her. She had the clear impression that Aegon had suffered as much or more as her parents had suffered with her absence. The way Baelon and her other nephew 'shielded' her made it clear that he'd borne the brunt of their displeasure.

All while she was…

"Sounds like you had quite the adventure." 

Gael winced and prepared herself for the scolding she was to get.

"What inns were the best?"

She rapidly raised her head in shock and stared at him.

He wore a look of amused, of relief, nothing at all like she was expecting.

"What?" she asked confused.

"What inns were the best?" Aegon asked, this time a little more serious.

Her expression turned incredulous and she couldn't help but ask "Out of everything I just told you…you want to know what inns are the best?"

"Yes." Aegon said simply though his expression was softening. "I'm not going to berate you Gael." Aegon said as he met her gaze, relief seeping through his expression as he spoke again "Not when I'm simply glad."

Aegon silently drew in his breath as his eyelids drooped low before he looked at her again "It could have so easily gone so wrong."

Gael nodded tremulously.

"I know" she whispered. She wasn't so foolish not to know how much danger she'd put herself into. She'd seen the danger she'd put herself into. Had she not taken care to look as unappealing as possible, some of the situations she'd found herself in could have easily have been her last. Even if she had the troupe with her.

"It won't happen again" she promised honestly.

Aegon only looked at her for a few moments before he nodded with a faint smile. Though it fell away shortly afterwards. "Your father and mother will need to know."

She looked away from his gaze and almost collapsed in on herself at the thought.

"Father already thinks I must have whored myself out to half of the Kingdom. Mother thinks so too even if she doesn't say it. When they hear this, they'll definitely think so" She couldn't help the deep bitterness in her voice.

She knew that mayhaps her bitterness was not fair yet she thought mayhaps her own parents would know that she was not such a woman. That she was not Saerra.

Mayhaps that was also why talk of her marrying Baelon wasn't once mentioned to her again. Father thought her a sullied woman. Unfit for a Queen.

"Neither of them think so and I don't think your tale will change that." Aegon said to her and she looked at saw him look at her sincerely. "I do think your father will be wroth…your mother too. At least at first." Aegon admitted.

Gael nodded silently and she dreaded that coming conversation.

He sighed "And your father doesn't know what to do. And likely still won't know what to do once he hears of the tale." Aegon said with a shadow of a smile.

 It had a helpless quality to it. "Your disappearance is known to the realm. Even if nothing happened" Aegon said delicately before continuing "it has damaged the reputation of our House." Aegon looked pained and she knew what the look was for.

She smiled bitterly at that. Wasn't that wonderful…the realm thought her spoilt even though she had not done such things. 

"But it will fade." Aegon said cautiously, his face returning to the unreadable stone she'd seen him wear in court. 

She looked away from his gaze, her cheeks flushing as she spoke "Once enough time has passed and the grandmaester can be sure I am not with child?"

She hadn't even thought about it. She knew Baldwyn was interested, just as much as he was interested in the novelty in travelling with a Princess in a playing troupe.

But she'd declined his approaches and any others. It hadn't felt right. Not once.

She was met with silence and she tentatively looked up towards him.

He was looking away from her and out towards the windows, an odd look on his face. It wasn't like the face he wore when he was deep in his books or in his journals.

It was different, almost as if he was at peace with something.

"Do you want to marry Baelon, Gael?" Aegon gently asked before he turned his head moments later and looked at her with a soft, gentle, earnest expression. 

She looked away from it, her chest tightening at the question.

"It is my duty" she said with dignity, able to keep out the hollowness from her voice.

"Forget duty." Aegon's voice was sharp and it startled her and she heard him sigh. "Forget duty." He said more gently. "Do you want to marry Baelon, Gael?"

His repeated question was said a tone of voice that entreated her to be honest, like the allure the smell of honey brought to starving bears.

"No" she answered quietly. She did not want to marry Baelon. 

She loved him as a brother only and he loved her only as his sister. Even if he loved her more than that, or if there had been chance of more, she still wouldn't want to.

Some of the Ladies at court would think her stupid, to deny the opportunity to be Queen but she never wanted that. It was simpler, what she wanted.

But she also knew she could not have it. Just as she was resigned to marry Baelon.

"But I will do my duty." Gael said truthfully. She'd embarrassed the family long enough and she knew that Baelon and herself could come to an agreement.

It wasn't as if there was a need for heirs.

"And if you had another choice?" 

She looked up and saw him looking at her with a piercing gaze, that same odd look expression on his face she'd seen on him wear often in their time today.

Her heart began to thunder. Was he…? A storm swirled inside of her as thoughts flew around in her mind like angry hornets. "I want you to answer this one question. With honestly." She said, her composure fraying but her voice was kept level.

"I will not lie to you, Gael." Aegon said quietly as he met her gaze. 

"I will answer any question you have."

Her throat felt dry as she spoke, the one question she wanted answer to fell from her lips "Why?" she merely asked but as she looked at his face, she knew he understood.

'Why would he offer now? Why not then? Why everything? 

Aegon was quiet for a long few moments before he turned to look out towards the heavens. "Why…" he trailed off and a heartbeat later the corners of his lips curled up ever so slightly as he turned back to her, intensity brimming in his eyes as he spoke. "You are meaningful to me Gael." 

Aegon said yet quietly and it took her by surprise though she had little time to process it as he continued. "Very much so. I care for you. Your happiness. Your wellbeing. And I acted against that care I had for you, even if I did not intent to." 

Aegon's eyes bored into her "And when you disappeared, I understood that with everything that I am and more, Gael, and had you been lost to me…" Aegon trailed off, his face twisting into a pained look that shot arrows through her heart.

'Had you been lost to me…'

Gael swallowed harshly and despite the joy she felt at his admission that she meant so much to him, and the sadness and guilt she felt for putting him through the idea of her dying, she still felt deeply, deeply betrayed by him.

"Then why?" Gael whispered, her eyes darting away from his gaze and towards their entwined hands. "If I mean so much to you…why did you refuse? Why did you convince father to try and have me marry Baelon?"

By the end of her words, her voice had raised and her fingers had curled in anger beneath his calloused hand, in betrayal, in sadness. He never truthfully answered her why he didn't want to marry her, his excuses that they were family felt like a lie.

How could they not have been a lie when she'd seen the way he sometimes had looked at her. The way he was looking at her right now. She knew he cared for her.

That his care was more. Just as her care for him was more.

…why did he hurt her so?

She slumped inwardly slightly "Why Aegon…why?" she asked in a whisper.

Flashes of guilt, of shame, of contriteness passed across his face before it settled into a look of acceptance as he spoke. "I am sorry I hurt you, Gael." Aegon said quietly, his eyes boring into her. 

She swallowed harshly, the apology did much to soothe the ache she still carried from the rejection yet she still felt it keenly…would forever feel it.

A few moments passed before he spoke again, the look of acceptance fading away as his expression became clouded, as if he was lost in his thoughts.

"That night in the Mountains." Aegon began. "I said I did not want to marry you because you were my aunt." Gael remembered that night well. Too well. Just as she remembered his plea word for word for her to accept that he could not marry her.

She nodded silently.

"If I'm being honest….it was only a small part of my refusal." Aegon admitted.

The admission surprised her as Aegon looked away from her and out of the window.

A long few moments passed before he turned to look at her again, a mild frown adorned on his face as he spoke. "And the other larger parts…the other reasons were already shattered a long time ago, even if I had not seen it."

She blinked at that but before she could ask, he continued. 

"For a very long time, I had a path of how I should live my life. A life without responsibility, a life without binds or meaning. I saw it as freedom."

"Why?" she asked uncertainly. She never even thought Aegon wanted such an empty life. And honestly, she couldn't see it in his actions either. 

She'd known him all of his life. 

She knew that the history of the world fascinated Aegon like no other. There was a spark in his eyes whenever he spoke to her about mysteries of the world or told her stories of strange places on Middle Earth, places that could have well existed somewhere in Essos had she not known it to be made up by Aegon.

It was why she could easily believe that he truly wanted to sail the seas, to see places of mysteries long lost to history, to bring to light lost truths of the world, travelling with the people who'd been allured to his side.

It was one of the things she loved about him, that yearning that was unlike anyone else she'd met since or after she'd grown close to Aegon.

And to her, it didn't sound like a life without meaning. It sounded wonderful.

"Because I had trouble coming to terms with certain things…many things that I didn't truly want to come to terms with. That I didn't want to accept." Aegon smiled ruefully before he shook his head. "I was…unhappy." Aegon admitted.

Aegon said it in a way that seemed that was a lot more to it, that he was refraining from telling her. Aegon continued "And for a long time, the idea of going East was something I was clinging onto." Aegon's expression twisted into a deep frown.

"The allure of adventure, sailing the Seven Seas" 'Seven seas?' she wondered. Were there seven seas? She couldn't remember such a thing. "– with learning new cultures, new languages, new ideas. Uncovering mysteries." Aegon looked away from her. 

"I thought that was what I wanted, wrapped up in a life without responsibility, without binds or meaning, freedom in its purist." Aegon said, guarded eyes met her gaze and her heart felt like it was still. "I thought that was what I needed."

"I was wrong." Aegon admitted to her, a half smile forming on his face.

"It wasn't freedom…this idea of sailing, of adventuring ceaselessly. It was the very opposite. It was an escape." Aegon sighed heavily before he peered soulfully at her.

"…I too was running, Gael. But for far longer than you did."

"I was running from the duty and responsibilities that are upon my shoulders. As someone who could affect this world for the better. Running from finding true meaning for my life because I could not accept what simply had to be accepted and I realised, late but mayhaps not too late, that I should not place importance on things I cannot change or effect."

There was another odd look on his face, another one that she couldn't quite figure out where to place. 

"Aegon…" her words died on her lips.

"I know, it doesn't make much sense." 

"And it is not important, at least right now." Aegon said with a shadow of a smile. "But what is important is why." Aegon said as his gaze bored into her, her heart stilling. "Why I realised that I was being a fool to believe that I could live a life without real responsibility…without true binds…without meaning."

"And that why is you, Gael. You are the reason why I realised that it is an impossibility." Aegon said to her warmly, care and gentleness shone on his face as he carefully raised her hand in his rough hands. 

"I realised you were more meaningful to me than anyone other. Anything other." Aegon said with difficulty and she couldn't help but listen with bated breath. 

"And with that realisation, the blindness that my stubbornness had put me into had faded away. That I already lived a life with binds, binds that I cherished. That I already lived a life with meaning for it had you in it." Aegon said with a faint smile.

She didn't know what to say, her words were melting on her tongue before she could utter them and it must have shown on her face as Aegon's expression turned a little severe "And for that, you have my gratitude and more, Gael." 

Aegon's voice become quieter yet evermore passionate "If you will have me, mayhaps we can share a meaningful life…together."

Her heart felt like it was melting, molten by the flames in which his words were imbued with, spoken with, and on the surface of her molten heart, there rose a dragon made out of strings of hope and joy and she could scarcely believe it.

She swallowed slightly turning her gaze downward and away from his beautiful eyes, her hand still clutched tightly in his hands. "If this simply out of duty…" the words came out painfully, the very thought was threatening to turn her heart to stone.

 Aegon's laugh cut her off, startling her. She looked at him and was taken aback by the look on his face. It was one of quiet certainty.

"It is not out of duty. It is pure selfishness, Gael." Aegon said as the look of certainty wore off and in its stead came a determined look. "I care for you Gael…"

She swallowed harshly, her hand balling into a fist in his hands. 

"You care for me. As a…"

Aegon looked slightly amused at her before he nodded, the amusement fading away as he spoke more seriously. "As a man cares for a woman."

Her heart felt like it could soar right out of her heart. 

When mother had told her that she was to marry Aegon, she had not realised that it was what she had wanted, that she had wanted for a long time and she'd revelled so much in the prospect of marrying her truest friend, her Aegon. 

And it broke her heart that he did not want the same.

And now…

"So…" Aegon lost the look of certainty, his expression falling into an abyss of uncertainty. "Do you wish to marry me?"

'Yes, yes, yes'

She met his gaze, a gaze which beheld uncertain eyes, eyes she loved and wanted to belong to her. 

"Yes…" she whispered in answer, a shy, tremulous smile forming on her face.

She launched forward, the startled look on Aegon's face was funny but she wrapped her arms around his neck, choked wet laughter escaping from her. "I do."

'I do, I do, I do, I DO!'

She wasn't sure how long she'd latched onto him, and she had not cared, his warmth, his arms, his smell, all of it, all of it was sending her into tearful blissful joy.

Finally, much to her displeasure, they unfurled away from one another. 

There was the look of uncertainty again on his face and it showed even more so in his voice when he spoke "I…I do have something to confess, something you should know about me before we marry." He said uncertainly before adding

"It's part of why I was so…troubled for much of my life."

Gael grabbed Aegon's hand and squeezed tightly. "There is nothing that could stop me from marrying you." She said honestly. He could tell her that he'd done unspeakable things and she would not abandon him.

Aegon's uncertainty dimmed a little but it was still there.

"I promise you. I won't care." Gael said quietly as she reached out and held his cheek. "This has been a dream for me. There is nothing you can do or say to change that. I swear by the Seven." 

Aegon closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them with a small smile and giving her a small nod. She returned the smile to him with assuredness.

Though…a thought crept into her mind, a thought she wanted, needed to hear an answer to "What about your travels?" Gael asked with as much calm as she could.

She didn't understand what it was that Aegon had found so difficult that he'd tore himself up for so long but she did know that his heart was for the adventure, for the world and all that lie within its cracks.

She didn't want that part of him to die, that spark in his eyes that she so loved seeing.

Aegon looked surprised by her question and somehow she found the strength to ask further, as much as her mind warred with her heart. "Do you still want to leave?"

Aegon looked away from her gaze and she could see his thoughts warring on his mind. "What do you want to do?" Aegon finally asked, though not looking at her.

She pulled out her hand from his grasp, an act that startled him, a startle that turned to surprise as she took one of his hands into her own. 

She knew then that he was willing to sacrifice even that part of him for her. She wouldn't let him. That he'd do that for her, when no other would sacrifice much at all for their intended or their wives, it heartened her so.

"What did I tell you before?" Gael posed to Aegon, the joy and happiness she'd found herself in formed into a spear of determination. "I told you once that you could take me with you to sail the seas." Gael said to Aegon.

"I meant it then…" Gael smiled slightly, endearment shining through her expression. "And I mean it now" she said honestly with a widening smile.

Even if she didn't truly want to see more than just Westeros, she would have had still said yes. Aegon, her Aegon was what she wanted above all else.

Whether it was in Kings Landing or Dragonstone or some place no one knew the name of, she cared not.

And the smile that formed on his face was beautiful and fondness leaked out of it though it took a more serious note. "I do want to leave." Aegon admitted to her before continuing "Not only to see more of the world…but also because I do not think I have a place here, Gael." Aegon admitted with a fixed smile.

"I have heard that it hasn't been easy for you from Aemma." Gael said quietly.

She scarcely could believe it. During the feast that celebrated the return of Viserys, it was clear that Aegon had won many friends amongst the nobility.

Friends that seemed to have

Aegon smiled at her reassuringly "It wasn't difficult. Truly. I have never cared about the nobility or the court." Aegon told her but she could see the hardness in his eyes.

And when he spoke next, it was cold and sharp. "If I truly wanted, I could gain back much of the friendships that I gained through the progression." It startled her, the way his expression become like stone yet it was his cold eyes that entranced her.

"But I do not. Their worth has been shown to me…and nearly all of them are worthless. I do not blame them, in truth. It is their nature. To slink away like the ocean when the tide is low." The way Aegon spoke, so starkly different to his cold eyes, was dispassionate, uncaring yet scathing of the families their family ruled.

Aegon's face of stone fell away and a weary one took its place as he looked to her with guarded, softer eyes. "I do not know if I ever want to return to Westeros, Gael." 

Gael remained quiet for a long few moments.

"You want to find a home elsewhere?" Gael asked quietly though her mind was half distracted. Where would they even go? She wondered.

"I do." Aegon confirmed to her, somewhat guardedly. 

He continued "I realise that East…is not a safe place" Aegon's spoke carefully, as if he was testing them out on his tongue and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

A look of amusement flashed before he nodded more seriously. "It's a dangerous place" he amended with a harder look.

Yes…she thought concernedly. 

Essos was a place riddled with slavers and slave cities, a land greater than Westeros in size but a land that was tenfold harsher and crueller than Westeros was. The Ironborn were civilised in comparison to the savages that roamed its plains. 

And mayhaps even more civilised than the Slaver Cities.

"It is why I was thinking we could mayhaps visit the Summer Is-"

Before he could continue, she stopped him as she placed her hand on top of his, gently squeezing. She met his gaze, neither of them spoke for a little while until she broke the silence.

"What about raising…" her cheeks flushed at the thought of it and as she added "our children?" her stomach seemed to flutter in all directions as she spoke those words.

But it needed to be said, to be asked.

Aegon's cheeks darkened, no his face darkened, reddening like skies did at the height of sunset and it seemed like he was having a little difficulty looking at her, much like she was having difficulty looking at him.

She wondered if it was the first time he thought of children. Mayhaps it was so. She knew that boys and men thought differently to women when it came to children. Mayhaps because they did not have to bear them, she thought a little wryly. 

To tell the truth, she feared childbirth and she dreadfully feared losing her child in the womb even more so – she knew not how Aemma could bear it for so long and so much and still try and try – but she wanted them.

When mother had told her she was to marry Aegon, she'd often fantasized about having his children. Often imagining baby boys and girls with his mismatching eyes. 

She imagined their first flights, their first words and their first wonders. She thought of their reactions as Aegon told them stories the likes of the Last Hero and Bilbo Baggins and other such stories that enraptured her so.

"I uh…" Aegon swallowed before he quickly recomposed himself somewhat, certainly faster than she did and when he spoke, she still could not to meet his gaze. She likely was if not redder than he was. 

"We would raise…him…her…them…with us." Aegon's voice sounded embarrassed and tight, growing tighter as he went on. Her own cheeks warmed even further though she startled when she felt his rough to the skin hand on her cheek. A few moments passed before he gently turned her to look towards him.

His expression softened as she finally made his gaze. "It would be…unusual, to raise them in distant and foreign lands but we would make it work, even if took a little longer to find our new home." 

Aegon smiled faintly at her, though his expression was still uneasy "I have…thought about this, Gael." Aegon's expression took on that earlier look, a look of being at peace "Very much and the Summer Isles looks to be a peaceful and perfect place for them until they are more grown."

His expression hardened momentarily. 

"And we will our dragons and our people with us to ensure that peace."

Aegon then explained his conversations with Prince Jalla, of the promise that he'd given to assist the Summer Islander to win his ancestral lands back from his usurping uncle, and that Aegon knew that he could reach agreements with the exiled Prince to host them for as long as they wished.

"I know that your father would grant us lands should we ask for it." Aegon said to Gael after he explained his plans for the Summer Isles "but it would not truly be our own home." Aegon stopped, and it almost seemed as if he wanted to say more but he did not.

"There is more, isn't there?" Gael asked, her eyes searching his face "More as to why you think East would be better than returning here." Aegon nodded slightly.

He looked away from her, towards the heavens. "I believe it is better for us…for our children…to build our own home in a way that fits." Aegon said before looking back at her. "It is an intuition that I feel is right" For a long little while she remained silent.

She knew that he was asking her…asking her to be alright with this path.

She also knew that it was something new to Aegon, this idea of never returning. It showed in the way he spoke, in the way he was asking her. 

There was uncertainty yet, she realised, it mattered little, for she wished to know only one thing. "Do you truly believe we will find a home East?" she asked quietly and seriously.

Aegon nodded silently before he answered. 

"I believe it. We may have to go very far East but eventually, I believe we'll find and build a home somewhere there." Aegon said with firmness.

Gael mulled it over before she nodded shyly, an act that made Aegon smile with relief and happiness but her shyness began to fall away as she looked at their entwined hands, the pit in her stomach growing as she thought of her mother.

"Mother…" Gael trailed off, complicated emotions tore up in her being.

I don't think mother has long to live." She said a little quietly, a quiet plea in her words. Mother was weakening by the day. It broke Gael's heart a little and even more so knowing how much her disappearance had played in her mother's worsening health.

Despite the…difficulties they've had, despite feeling sometimes that mother clung onto her to soothe her heartache instead of really caring for Gael for herself, she loved her mother deeply. She couldn't stand to think she would miss her mother's…

"I understand. We can stay until…" Aegon trailed off and she looked up and she saw the look of understanding and compassion on his face. 

She reached out and touched his face. "Thank you" she whispered meaningfully, knowing that it wasn't easy for him to stay for what may be many years. 

And yet he would, for her.

Aegon smiled faintly as he spoke, leaning as he did against her hand. "Besides, I can use the years to convince more people to come with us. Like the people of Dragonstone." She saw him drift off into thoughtfulness, the same kind of thoughtfulness as she'd seen him be in when he was stuck in his tomes.

She smiled at that, a smile that seized as she realised what they were forgetting.

"What about father? Baelon?" she blurted out with startled worry, worry that threatened to break into frenzied panic. 

Aegon broke out of his thoughts with raised eyebrows before his face settled into certainty. "My father won't fight against this. Neither will yours."

She bit her lip. "You're certain?"

"Yes." Aegon said with a nod before he sighed slightly, a wan smile forming on his face. "It was only your father that pushed for it" Aegon grimaced, unable to say 'and I' as he was and she squeezed his hand to tell him it was alright.

He lost the grimace and looked at her gratefully before he continued "And my father…he was against it as much as you were."

Aegon told her reassuringly. "I will speak with both of them." 

She silently nodded her understanding. 

There was a lull in the conversation before an amused glint in his eyes.

"You still haven't told me what inns were the best."

Her cheerful giggles chimed off of the walls before she descended in a rapturous tale of the best inns in the Crownlands and in the Riverlands and she wasn't sure how long they simply…talked, their conversation flowed so easily, almost so much so that they nearly didn't hear the room opening, and suddenly the sound of wood hitting stone came into her hearing and it stopped their talks.

"Mother." Gael said with surprise in her voice.

Her mother peered at them with a non-distinct look on her face before she turned her gaze towards Aegon. "Grandmother." Aegon said dutifully and carefully.

She said nothing as she continued to peer at Aegon for some time. It was awkward and she didn't really know what to say.

"I see." Mother said croaking, her voice breaking, her eyes sweeping from Gael to Aegon. She could barely speak these days without that terrible croak. 

Her eyes settled on Aegon. "Your father and grandfather wish to see you." Her mother said, the command, despite the failing voice and the failing body, rang as authoritative as ever and Aegon's careful look slowly melted into a face of stone.

Aegon stood up, their hands reluctantly separating, the sound of his armour chafing against itself deafening and she thought he was leaving without another word.

He proved her wrong. He turned back and she met his gaze.

There was a lull of silence, neither of them spoke though neither needed to.

There was plenty said in their gaze. Aegon offered a parting smile, one she returned before he turned on his heels and left after bidding her mother goodbye.

As the doors closed, the wariness she felt towards her mother rose tremendously.

Though…

It couldn't compare to how high her eyebrows raised when she saw her mother's smile.