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dystopicjumpsuit · 9 months

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Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 14

The Bridges We Burn

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: angst; mature language; SMUT; minimal prep; PIV; biting; cum eating

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Every window of Maree’s flat was thrown open to let in the early morning breeze. It was midsummer, and before many hours passed, Republic City would be sweltering, but for now the air was still cool and crisp. The curtains billowed gently into the room, distracting Maree as she packed up the last few crates of her belongings. She could smell the ocean: fresh and salty today, with no trace of the stench that had plagued the city a few weeks earlier. She stood for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent as she gazed around the empty room. She swallowed down the tightness in her throat.

This place had been her home for over a decade. She’d bought the flat a year after she was hired at the Archive, and she had made so many memories inside these walls. In this flat, she’d hosted dinner parties, birthday parties, engagement parties, holiday parties, going-away parties. She’d had sleepovers with Valsi when they had caroused a little too enthusiastically. She and her friends had watched every Equinox Day sunsail race from her balcony for the past twelve years. She had scrubbed the stain out of the carpet from the time when Tane had sloshed his wine glass while arguing with a friend over whether it would be easier to fight one astromech-sized mouse droid or ten mouse-droid-sized astromechs. She’d blasted glimmik music and danced triumphantly through every room in the flat the day her first book manuscript was accepted.

It was the first home where she’d been able to decorate exactly how she wanted, without having to negotiate with roommates or beg permission from a landlord. She had painted the walls in her favorite colors, and painted them again when she decided the original effect was too busy.

And now those walls were bare, stripped of all her paintings and mirrors, without even nails left as placeholders for the missing decor. The holes had been patched and repainted, the artwork sold or packed away and shipped to her mothers’ home for storage and safekeeping until Maree found another place to call home. If she ever did.

The flat belonged to someone else now. A stranger. Maree had only until the end of the day to finish removing her belongings and hand over the security codes to her realtor. The buyer would take possession the next day, and then it would be their turn to make all of the memories and choices and mistakes that were inevitable in the process of turning a flat into a home.

Only a few items remained to be packed. Maree reached for one blindly, and her heart gave a little lurch as she recognized the datapad Kix had given her. She wrapped it carefully in a scarf and tucked it into the crate. After that, there were just some holoframes and other delicate items left, and then she sealed the crate and stacked it with the rest of the items to be picked up by the moving company. They were due to arrive any minute, and once they were gone, Maree would take a taxi to Valsi’s home, where she would spend her last night on Hosnian Prime before catching a shuttle to Adelphi the next day.

The door chimed, startling her. The movers, she realized, and went to open the door. But it was not the movers.

Kix’s hair was a little longer, his beard a little fuller. He looked a little thinner, and the shadows under his eyes were etched a little deeper, but his eyes were just as piercing as she remembered as the morning sun glinted in their honeyed depths.

She stared at him wordlessly for a moment, and then stood back to admit him. He stepped over the threshold and curiously surveyed the empty room.

“I’d offer you a seat, but I already sold all the furniture,” Maree said.

“You’re really leaving, then.” His voice was gruff.

“Yep,” she said. “Quit my job and torched the bridge in a spectacular fashion. How did you hear that I’d left the Archive?”

“I, er, called your office,” he said. “To apologize for—well, everything. I tried your comm channel, but it didn’t go through.”

“It was provided by the Library,” she said. “I had to get a new channel when I left.”

Kix nodded. “Well, Teejay told me you were no longer with the Library.” He looked uncomfortable. “The droid had a few choice words for me. It seems to hold me personally responsible for your leaving.”

Maree laughed shortly. “Sounds about right. Teejay thrives on routine and hates change. A new boss is going to be a big adjustment. All that frustration has to go somewhere; I guess you were just a convenient target.”

“I’m used to droids aiming at me,” Kix said.

“Is that clone humor?” Maree asked with a tiny smile.

“Maybe,” he replied. “What will you do now?”

She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I doubt I’ll be coming back to Hosnian Prime. There’s nothing for me here. I’ll need to buy a ship at some point. Hopefully I got enough from selling the flat to cover the cost.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t already have one,” he said.

“I never traveled enough to make it worth the docking fees,” she said.

“Will you miss it here?” he asked.

“I’ll miss Valsi. And the spiced biscuits,” she added. “It’s going to take me a while to find anything to replace them in the Outer Rim.”

“You should stock up before you leave,” he said.

“I had a better idea,” she said. “I got the bakery to give me the recipe. Now all I have to do is learn how to bake.”

“Resourceful,” he said.

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Kix stared around the empty flat, looking anywhere except Maree’s eyes.

“Why are you here, Kix?” she asked at last.

“I came because—” his voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “Because Quiggold told me what the captain tried to do. I felt like I owed you an apology. And… an explanation. ”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “I was just doing my job.”

“And what about the rest?” he asked.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she replied. “I was never under any delusion that I was anything more than a convenient hookup. I’m a big girl. I know how the galaxy works.”

“You’re wrong,” he said bluntly.

Maree’s eyes widened. “I am?”

“Yes. I’ve been drowning for the past year, and when I met you, my feet touched solid ground.”

Her breath caught. “Kix—”

“Your favorite color is green,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

“Not just any green. It’s a vibrant, sap green. The color of the moss that grows on river rocks in the springtime. The color of leaves, just starting to open after the long winter.”

“How did you know that?” she asked.

“Every painting in your office and your home had a touch of that color. Your napkins, your pillows, your favorite mug. You never wear it, though. Why is that?” he asked.

“It doesn’t suit me,” she said. “But I still love it.”

She didn’t know what else to say, or why he was here, or what he expected from her, and an awkward silence descended once again as she waited for him to speak. After a long pause, he took a deep breath.

“Maree, I’m nobody,” he said. “Even when I was a soldier, I had nothing except my honor. Now I’m a pirate, and I don’t even have that.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Maree protested. “It’s not true. It’s not even close to true!”

“Please, just listen,” he begged, and she fell silent. “I didn’t think you would want to leave everything you’ve built to go slum it on a pirate ship. But then Reveth told me what you said. About how you didn’t want to take the choice away from me. And I realized that’s exactly what I did to you when I left without telling you how I feel about you. And when I heard you’d left the Archive, I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Kix, I—”

“I know I don’t have much to offer,” he said hurriedly. “Nothing that could compete with all this. But if you come with me, I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to make sure you don't regret it.”

“Oh, love, I would never—”

“I can give you firsthand accounts of the Clone Wars. I can show you Separatist bases that haven’t been touched since the war ended. You could still do your research. You wouldn’t have to give up your dream, I could help you make it come true, I swear—”

“Kix!” she interrupted sternly. “Stop. Talking.”

He stammered to a halt, his eyes wide, as Maree stood on her tiptoes to grab his shoulders and pull him down into a kiss. His hands rested for a moment on her hips, and then with a groan, he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her tightly against him. He kissed her as if his life depended on it. When at last they broke apart, he gazed into her eyes and stroked her face, holding her close, cradling her body as if she were some delicate, precious thing that he could not bear to part with.

“Does this mean you’ll consider it?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It means I’ve already decided.”

“You have?” he asked, and his eyes lit with hope.

“Yes,” she said, pulling him down for another kiss. “My mother won’t be delighted to hear I’ve taken up with a pirate, but she’s retired from the Ranger Corps now, so she’s at least somewhat less likely to come gunning for us.”

“How does she feel about clones?” he asked.

“She’ll love you. Just like I do.”

All his breath left in a rush, and he stared at her. “Say that again.”

“Baba probably won’t hunt us down—”

“Don’t tease me,” he said, and kissed her. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she said. “And I meant what I said. I love you, Kix.”

“I think I loved you from the moment I saw you,” he confessed. “I never could have hoped you would feel the same way.”

“My love,” she murmured, kissing his forehead. “My sweet, sweet boy.” She kissed down his temple, to his cheek, and finally his lips. “Of course I do.”

Kix slid his hands up Maree’s back, savoring the way her body molded against him beneath the smooth fabric of her dress. He could scarcely believe that this was real, that she was actually here with him, her lips pressed against his, her tongue moving deliciously in his mouth, her sighs of pleasure warm against his skin. It was a dream, or a fantasy—it must be.

He clutched her tightly to himself, afraid that if he loosened his hold, she would slip away and disappear. But her hands felt solid and real as they roamed over his arms and shoulders, and nothing he could ever imagine could feel as incredible as the way she tangled her fingers in his hair. He broke away from her lips and kissed his way down her throat, slipping his hand around to cup her breast.

She whimpered as his teeth scraped over a particularly sensitive spot, but as he reached for the hem of her skirt, she gasped, “Wait!”

He stilled immediately, pulling back so he could see her face. Her hair was mussed, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were hazy with desire, and it took every shred of self-control he possessed not to pull her back into his arms and devour her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The movers!” she said.

“Movers?” he asked blankly.

“They’ll be here any minute, and I am NOT getting interrupted again, Kix, I swear to gods, every time we do this, somebody kriffing walks in on us, and—”

He kissed her, and whatever she was planning to add to that sentence disappeared into a wanton moan. He gripped her hips and pulled her against him, and when she rolled her pelvis against his achingly hard cock, he nearly came in his pants.

“On second thought, we can lock the door,” she said, coming up for air.

“Let’s do that,” he agreed.

She pulled away from his embrace and hurried to the door, slapping the lock button on the control panel. Kix followed close behind, and when she turned to face him, he pinned her against the door and kissed her until she was breathless and wild and making the sweetest karking sounds he’d ever heard. She fumbled at his belt, and he felt the waistband loosen, and then she shoved her hand down the front of his pants, not even bothering to push them down.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as her nimble little fingers wrapped around his cock. “Fuck yes, oh kark, I missed you so kriffing much.”

“I missed you,” she breathed, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Kix’s heart shattered. He cupped her face in his hands and brushed away the tears, then pressed his lips to her face, scattering kisses everywhere he could reach until he washed away every trace of hurt and sadness in her eyes.

“Kix?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“This is nice, but if you aren’t inside me in the next ten seconds, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said dutifully, yanking up the hem of her skirt and tugging the thin lace of her underwear aside. The fabric was soaked through, and he hissed in a deep breath when he dragged his fingers across her slippery, swollen clit.

She pushed down the waistband of his briefs just far enough to free his cock and line him up with her entrance. He hooked a hand behind her thigh and lifted it to wrap around his waist, and then he pushed into her. Holy fuck, she was tight. He hadn’t prepped her, and his cock only went in partway. He paused and started to withdraw.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes!” she cried. “God damn it, Kix, fuck me now!”

His control snapped, and he bit down savagely on her neck as he thrust into her two more times, and then he was fully inside. A ragged, animalistic groan ripped from her throat, and she levered herself against him, wrapping her other leg around him and hooking her feet behind his back as he pounded her into the door. He gripped her ass, supporting her weight as he drove into her again and again. Each thrust of his cock punched the air from her lungs until she was a gasping, sobbing wreck, unable to form words.

His heart raced, his legs began to spasm, and he shifted, bringing a hand around to press on her clit and fucking into her with short, rapid strokes. She tightened around him until he thought he was going to pass out, and then she shattered with a scream. The violence of her orgasm nearly pushed his cock out of her pussy, but he rammed into her, fucking her through it, and within seconds, his vision went blank as pleasure exploded through his body, and he came hard, jetting hot spurts of cum into her cunt.

He buried his face against her neck and breathed in her scent as he gasped for air. Slowly, his consciousness returned, and he eased her legs down from his waist. She shuddered against him, and he wrapped his arms around her until her breathing stabilized. Kark, he’d missed the scent of her hair. He inhaled deeply and kissed her head. Then he kissed her again. And again and again, traveling down her body until he knelt before her.

His cum had started to drip down her thighs, and he lifted her skirt carefully, making sure to keep the fabric away from his mess. He leaned forward and stroked his tongue gently across her skin, licking her clean, and then he dipped into her, keeping his tongue soft and his touches light to avoid overstimulating her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and cupped his head, breathing quiet, passionate sighs. When he finished, he carefully put her back together, arranging her skirts perfectly and brushing away the worst of the wrinkles.

She sank to her knees next to him, and he sat down against the wall and pulled her onto his lap. He stroked her hair softly, guiding her head to rest against his shoulder.

“Your floor is really hard,” he said.

“Yeah. Next time, we should fuck somewhere with furniture.”

“So high maintenance,” he teased.

“Sadly true,” she sighed. “I require a bed. Maybe even a chair.”

“Ridiculous,” he said. “Next you’ll be telling me you want a sofa.”

“Regretting your choice so soon?” she asked.

He huffed a laugh against her hair. “Never.”

---

Epilogue

Tagging:

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#clone medic kix #pirate kix #post stasis kix #sw tcw fanfic #tcw fanfic #kix x ofc #dystopicjumpsuit writes #martyrs and kings

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notyour-valentine · 9 months

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A Fair Exchange XLI ~ Aemond Targaryen x Reader/OC (Angst)

[Navigation] [Moonboard Masterlist] [House of the Dragon Masterlist]

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Summary: Out at sea

Warning: bullying, blood, mention and threat of violence and death, mutilation, mention of torture and death, childbirth, injury, misogyny. Expect canon conforming tone and language. (18/21+)

[Series Masterlist]

Previously

Part XLI

Some deep lingering longing had taken them away from the shore and the green plains to the rocky islands that were specked in the sea like stones thrown from the coast.

They were peaceful and quiet and they had been here often,in his youth with his older siblings, and now with the younger ones.

Their riders liked flying here, tanning in the sun or swimming in the sea of their own little kingdom.

Since the younger dragons were smaller, their landing on smaller rocks was made easier, but there were more than a few islands big enough for him.

And the waters here were less shallow, and so there was easier prey beneath the surface.

He did not have the patience for smaller fish, but sometimes the families of whales or dolphins travelled beneath him, a quick drop, a grab of the claw and he had his meal.

Sea prey tasted different to land prey, but it was prey all the same.

The uneasiness inside him had bordered on anger and so to gain a little satisfaction he had killed more than his share. The whole island, which was large enough for him to move around, was covered in bones and burned carcasses of sea beasts that had fallen to his claws and fangs.

It was an unseemly sight, she thought, and couldn’t help but pity the poor animals. He had slaughtered many of them, and not for food.

If he had killed them he ought to at least use them for nourishment. So even without any hunger, he tore at one of them, his jaws crunching the bones, but there was no joy in it.

He just wasn’t hungry, only restless, though there was no sign, no sight of danger, even if he had felt a surge of it, with no enemy to attack, and no risk to avoid.

This island was supposed to give him peace, or at least somewhat, no bickering brothers or sisters, no meddling riders coming in at any time, but at the same time that meant not knowing what was happening on Dragonstone.

It could be in flames and she wouldn’t know. He should return, even if his irritation at the others would only inflame his restlessness. But the will festered in his mind.

And so he turned his body around, back towards the mainland, towards the two biggest of these islands, towards her home.

He spread his wings and took flight, feeling the wind caress his scales to take them home. Instead of the Dragonmont, they landed close to the castle.

There were more guards, and dragons circling the skies. Right now there are Caraxes and Moondancer. Patrolling, but why?

And why two? Why was Daemon up there with Baela?

There was an ache in his back that was not his own, that only grow fiercer until she woke with a whimper, as her body was drawn upward.

“Shh,”someone said as her back rested against something, a hand on her face, cupping her jaw.

She felt something hard on her lips as her head was tilted back.

“Drink up, there you go.”, Aemond told her, as liquid filled her mouth.

She swallowed once, twice, three times, and then she was on Dragonstone again.

She had been awake for but a heartbeat, and even then it was generous to call it conscious. Then she slipped back into her slumber.

Aemond took great care to move her aching body as gently as he could, lowering it on the makeshift bed under the shade they had made using a decorative flag as a makeshift sunsail to keep her out of the heat.

Once she was settled he held the back of his hand in front of her lips, feeling the faint brush of her breath. It was steady, thank the Gods, just like her heartbeat, which had finally calmed. But he could tell her body was weary and she was beyond exhausted.

Getting them, getting him to this boat, had drained her of all energy, and when she would wake, she would be sore for days.

When he looked up, he saw Luke glaring at him. He had received the silent treatment from him, apart from barked orders that he was to stay out of his way and keep Jaehaera from falling into the sea.

Luke knew his sister was a good swimmer, too good for this to be the consequence of an ordinary swim, but Aemond holding her up on the rope ladder had probably been his saving grace that prevented his nephew from throwing him overboard.

But he had to give it to his nephew, he had picked a suitable boat, a sailing boat more for sport, that could be guided by one person alone, and that person was Luke who was keeping himself busy.

He was weary too, but she needed more support.

Aemond had experienced pushing his body to the utmost time and time again, and was familiar with the signs of aching loins.

When he watched her lay there in the shade, on her side to ease her breathing, she appeared smaller and younger than she was, as frail as she had been as a child, sickly and feeble.

Her dragon made her bolder, braver, healthier even, but he did not make her healthy, and now Tyseleys was miles away, unable to compensate for her body’s failings.

Guilt swept in like an icy chill, filling him from the inside out, even in the heat of the open Dornish Sea.

She had carried him, had saved him. It was too much to ask of her, of anyone and now her body demanded its due.

Aemond could make her better, could not place a healing touch upon her forehead, could not even take any pain, strain or ailment and transfer it to his body instead of hers even if he wanted to.

But he could ease her pain, at least the pain she would feel when she was awake again.

He rubbed his palms on the fabric of his trousers. They had been dark green and black once, but now they were all sorts of murky greys.

When he felt the heat, he let up, bringing them to her right shoulder as his other hand held it in place.

He could feel the tenseness of her muscles, and began to do his best to resolve them. Aemond was no maester, but he had studied anatomy in an attempt to increase the success of his training. He recalled where muscles went and how they were tied to the functioning.

Hers had endured too much a strain, one he could not resolve, but could attempt to loosen. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do. And doing nothing would have made the guilt he had already felt crush him.

Slowly and diligently he worked in repetitive motions down her arm, careful not to tug at the skin, which wasn’t at all easy in the absence of scented oils.

After a while Aemond shifted on his knees for a more comfortable position as he continued to work down the length of her arm.

“What are you doing?”, Luke demanded to know.

He was standing in front of him now, a glare in his eyes, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as his dark curls stuck to his forehead.

To Aemond he was still a boy, but in moments like these he saw flashes of the man he was trying to become.

“I’m easing the pain on her limbs.”, Aemond said.

Luke frowned, as his brown eyes dug into his soul searching for any hint of treachery.

“There’s no need for that.”, he hissed.

“She’ll thank me for it.”

Rage flashed in his eyes.

“Do not speak for her!”, he spat. “Not for someone you barely know!”

I do know her, Aemond thought. I know the look in her eye when she is scared. I have held her as she wept and wiped her tears, I have steadied her on the brink of terror and guarded her in her sleep. I’ve been at the receiving end of her fury when I thought to abandon you, her relief when she felt safe, and her care when I no longer mastered my fear.

But he said nothing.

Instead, Aemond moved onto her hands. He quite liked her hands, the shape of them, the feel of them, even though they had been roughened by recent endeavours. The rope had cut her skin, and it had only just begun to heal when the saltwater engulfed them.

Yet they were always warm and gentle. He remembered feeling them on the back of his neck on that alley and on his face in the icy hell of the sea.

Not that he hadn’t been gentle with the rest of her, but he took great care with her hands. There was a dent on the second finger of her right hand where she had worn a ring which she had given up in an attempt of their anonymity, but the mark remained still, a symbol of years of loyal wear.

Aemond found himself hoping this ring that she had clearly favoured had not been among the jewels she had Luke gamble away, although it was more likely than not. Her mother had lent her jewellery for this journey and she would have rather thrown every item that was hers into the dirt before she would part with one of hers.

He had never met someone so stubbornly selfless as she was, but she was. With her mother, all of her siblings, little Jaehaera even though there was nothing tying her to the girl.

At first he had believed in an innate female disposition to motherly emotions, but he doubted that now. There was nothing to tie her to Jaehaera except the lie of blind familiar ties based only in blood. And few knew better than he did how little one could rely on that.

And yet she had shown Jaehaera nothing but devotion, forgoing any comfort or food or even peace for her welfare, and to keep up the illusion that this was all some great adventure and not a mad barefoot dash for their lives across a desert valley of snakes.

Even now when he looked up, he saw Jaehaera playing with that carved toy knight, who although still being called Ser Symeon acted out the heroic deeds of Florian the Fool, using her knee as a mountain range to climb.

For that alone he owed her a lifetime of gratitude. His thumb stroked along the inside of her palm.

There were half healed scabs from rope burns, and one had recently opened, undoubtedly burning thanks to the seawater which had died out both their skin. Three of her nails had been broken in the effort, the two remaining ones bit down as an outlet to her inner turmoil.

And yet it was still a Lady’s hand to Aemond, more so, that of a Princess, with virtue outdoing any mere facade of elegance.

He let his thumb trace over her knuckles gently, commemorating it to memory.

Gently he placed it down on her chest, just below her heart, before attempting to turn her onto her other shoulder so he could massage her other side.

The shift made her tense, as she inhaled sharply, but she did not wake.

“Shh, Princess.”. Aemond muttered as he steadied her head on his knee as he turned her. “There’s no need to wake up. Take all the rest you need.”

Tyseleys was weary and irritated. He wanted to return to the dragonmont, to the flames and the smoke, and those brothers and sisters of his that were older, bigger.

But he remained here, amongst the younger ones, and the strange one with the broken cry, close to the castle. Because that was where she wanted him.

It was her wish that kept him here.

They had been about to return to the dragonmont when the sense of her twin had come to her, and she had turned, looking at him.

He looked older, sterner, wearing armour now. Why was he wearing armour at home? If he was not on dragonback, or locked away in the castle, he was pacing on the southern side of the castle, looking towards the sea.

Looking for me, she thought. But he doesn’t know I’m looking at him.

Only she wasn’t, she couldn’t. She was not on Dragonstone. She was on a boat somewhere in the Dornish Sea and when she woke the slight swaying and the whispering of the wind confirmed just that.

Those came first, the pain came second.

The salt had dried her skin, tightening it painfully especially around her face. But it was her arms, her shoulders and her back that ached.

With a groan, she tried to push herself up when she felt hands on her arm, helping her up.

Blinking against the sun, it took her a while to see that it was Aemond.

Thank the Gods, she thought. Last she remembered, with certainty at least, they were just about to climb up into the boat. And there had been too little to be certain of his fate.

His silver-white hair had suffered in the salt, making it frizzy and more wavy than she remembered it. He had tamed it with a ribbon of cloth at the base of his neck, but not all strands obeyed his wishes.

And either he had opted against wearing his eye-patch or it had become victim to the waves. Now his sapphire sparkled in the sun just like the waves below under the setting sun.

Setting…?

“How are you feeling?”, Aemond asked.

“Have been better.”, she admitted. He rummaged around and produced one of the water skins.

“You have to drink, and eat. A little at least.”

She took the water skin and sipped slightly, though she didn’t feel any hunger.

“How are you?”, she asked when he handed her a sea biscuit that she had no intention of eating.

“Don’t worry about me.”, Aemond mumbled, glancing downward, his cheeks flushing.

For a moment they remained in silence, with the waves crashing against the boat,

“I’m sorry.”, Aemond said, still avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t be.”, she sighed, leaning her head against the side of the boat and taking deep breaths.

“Still,”, he said, shifting on his legs. “I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, guarding and you and now you’ve carried me -”

“Well,”; she said, cutting him off. “I guess you would have done the same.”

Before he had any chance to answer, she heard the thumps of hastening steps.

“Luke!”, she exclaimed, reaching up with her arms as her brother crashed down on the deck to embrace her.

His arms tightened around her frame, as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, squeezing her as if he was afraid she would slip away.

“Thank the Gods.”; he muttered, before kissing the side of her face.

“How are you?”, he too wanted to know.

“Decent.”, she said, cupping his face.

“How far are we? Why is the sun setting already - have I slept that long?”

Luke nodded. “You’ve slept all night and the day. The sun will be gone in an hour or so.”

He held his hand up, aligning his fingers with the horizon. There were less than two between it and the setting sun.

“It’s been going alright so far.”, he told her. “The winds could have been better, but they also could have been far worse. By the time the sun rose, we were far clear of the coast.”, he told her. “We can see how to correct the course if the night is clear.”

She glanced up to the skies. It was clear of any clouds.

“It looks like it will be.”

Luke nodded, sighing.

“I’m so glad you’re awake again.”, he whispered, kissing her temple.

She reached up and cupped his cheek, stroking across his boyish features.

“I’ll help you now, just give me a moment to gather myself.”

Luke shook his head.

“I can manage.”, he assured her.

“But you’ve been managing since last night. You need your rest too!”

With that, she pushed herself into a stand, feeling her legs wobble under her.

“Don’t go overboard!”, Luke mumbled, grabbing her waist.

That made her smile just slightly.

“I’ll be fine. You take it easy, yes?”, he asked, turning away from her back to the sails.

She wanted to argue, to follow him and share the burden, but it would be a lie to claim she was entirely up for it already.

With now knowing Luke was well, and Aemond was too, she looked around for Jaehaera, finding her playing with the jewels as if they were marbles, arranging them by colour and shape.

“Is she alright?”, she asked Aemond.

He nodded. “Quiet, but alright…she is not that fond of boats.”

She sighed, looking at the little girl. If the waves and winds were kind to them, they wouldn’t be here for too long.

“Jaehaera?”, she called out, as she crouched down again. “How are you feeling?”

Jaehaera rushed over to her, before realising half way that she was on the boat and beginning a dramatic side to side sway like a drunken sailor.

“The boat is all swayie!”, she complained, before ‘tripping’ right into her lap.

“That’s why you have to be careful not to go too close to the edge without any of us there to help you.”, she said as her hand found Jaehaera’s back to check the knot that bound her to the mast just in case something really did go wrong.

It wasn’t the most dignified of securities but it far beat her falling into the sea and them having to go dive for her.

“You are such a sleepyhead!”, Jaehaera complained, looking up at her. “I wanted to wake you up to play but Aemond didn’t let me. Can we play now?”

She nodded.

“Yes, we can play now.”, she agreed, although it felt like she wanted to rest again, or aid Luke.

For a while they played Knights and tourneys with Ser Symeon, with the jewellery creating a complex parkour he had to ride through to get the treasure, a particular necklace Jaehaera liked best.

It was that of Alyssa Targaryen, both their great-grandmother.

After that they used the coloured stones for a makeshift boardgame, blue and green jewellery as one, and red and purple for the other.

Those such games were fun at the best of times, but exhausted her, as it meant she had to remain happy and cheery, and not show a hint of concern she felt.

From time to time Aemond joined them from his lonely watchpoint if only to bring them water and food and insist on its consumption.

Otherwise he was mostly quiet, keeping to himself, but keeping the both of them in his line of sight.

Come sunset, she began settling Jaehaera for sleep - there was no bed, but they did their best to use what little they had to make her comfortable.

In the absence of storybooks she told her tales of Knights and Maidens, of Dragons and Dragonriders.

She told her of Jaenaera Belearys who explored Sothoryos south of the jade sea, far before any man on her dragon Terrax. That had been Baela’s favourite story, and Jaehaera liked it too, probably because their names were so similar.

“I like Terrax.”, she said. “It’s a good name for a dragon.”

“Don’t you already have a hatchling?”, she asked.

Her eyes lit up in a bust of energy as she described her little winged companion waiting for her in King’s Landing.

“He’s not big yet but he will be.”; she promised. “But he already has a name, so I cannot call him Terrax.”

The thought of such a great name to go to waste made her sad, especially as she realised that all the people around her already had a dragon with a name.

“Why don’t we call the ship Terrax?”, she asked. “Mother and Grandmother once named ships! There were so many people at the harbour and they gave flowers to the captains.”, she recalled.

“If you wish you can call the ship Terrax.”, she told her.

Beaming, Jaeheara nodded. “Terrax is a better name for a dragon but I think it is also not a bad name for a ship, no?”, she asked.

“I think it’s a very good name.”; she agreed, stroking Jaehaera’s hair until she fell asleep. By that time the skies had darkened.

Leaving Jaehaera under the one blanket they had, she walked over to where Luke was keeping his watchful duty.

“You need to rest, brother.”, she told him, stroking his arm. “Drink, eat and sleep.”

He shook his head, eyes glued to the skies.

“I have to reset the course.”

One glance told her that the stars were bright enough for him to do so.

“You do that, but after that, you go and rest. I can hold the course well enough with the stars out.”

“But-”

She cupped his face.

“If the weather changes and I no longer see them I will wake you.”, she promised, before pulling him into an embrace.

“There is no need to exhaust yourself, I can do this, you know I can.”

“But you’re only just better.”, he reminded her. “I don’t want you to over exhaust yourself.”

“I can manage a few hours steering a sailing boat.”, she assured him, even if she had never done so without the companionship of either Baela, Rhaena, Jace or Addam.

But she knew it was in her capabilities.

Luke did not resist the temptation to explain it all to her as if she was as new to sailing as Joff, but she let him. Better safe than sorry.

But after everything was said and done, he finally allowed himself some rest at least, and for that she was grateful.

The winds were easy, and the skies were clear and starry. It could be far far worse for sailing.

For a while she just leaned back and looked out into the darkness, enjoying the cool caresses of the wind on her face, the only freshness she could come by.

But after half an hour or so, she sensed movement behind her and was already gearing up to scold Luke for waking already, only to see it wasn’t her brother at all.

Aemond’s pale hair reflected the light of the moon, his sapphire black in the darkness as he joined her.

“Teach me.”, he said softly.

“What?”, she asked, not sure if she had heard him properly.

“I want you to teach me…navigation, knots, sails…you know that. Luke knows it. I do not and without knowing I am useless.”

“You are not useless.”, she argued.

She raised her brow at his scoff.

“Besides, there’s not much to do now, only holding the course Luke set. If you want to truly learn, it is him you should ask.”

“But I am asking you.”, he said sharply, making it quite clear that the alternative was highly unlikely.

She shrugged.

“Your loss. Luke is far better than I am, and only Rhaena is still better than he is at navigation.”

They spent the most time out with their boats together, both on one or one on each, racing each other to little islands. He far preferred those smaller boats to the bigger ones that made him seasick.

It was a passtime where they were all equal, where Rhaena did not feel the absence of her dragon.

“He is navigating just by the stars?”, Aemond asked.

“Yes.”, she said, “We just have to follow the Fisherman’s hook.”

“The what now?”, he wanted to know, stepping closer.

She offered him an embarrassed smile.

“I always forget what the Maester’s call them. We use the Valyrian words from the night song. It’s a bit silly, I know, but it’s what stuck.”

Aemond looked at her as if every word she was speaking was utter nonsense.

“The night song?”, Aemond asked.

She nodded.

“You know…One day I saw a serpent that slithered in the grass, so I ran up a hill and down again until the river fork.”

As she spoke, she pointed at the stars that, with much childhood imagination spelled out these places. The Serpent was the Valyrian name for this star sign, although the hill was a volcano in proper terms, and the river fork the separation of the Rhoyne.

But still it made for a good way to remember them. Aemond stared at her in bafflement.

“It rhymes better in Valyrian.”; she muttered, her cheeks burning as she repeated it, hoping he would remember and not see her as a mad woman.

It was a nursery rhyme, not some great poetry, but one so familiar every child on Driftmark and Dragonstone knew it. Even across the Narrow Sea the descendants from Old Valyria sang it.

“You remember, don’t you?”, she asked.

“I do not.”; Aemond said sharply. “I suppose the Maesters do not teach Valyrian Nursery Rhymes and the Dragonkeepers have no use for them.”

“But your father knew the song. He sang it to us all the time, and to my mother and to Daemon too.”

Imagining Daemon as a baby being sung to by King Viserys had made her giggle, but her stepfather cherished the memory.

But Aemond did not look amused. Instead she imagined she saw a hint of sadness on his face.

“It’s silly anyway.”, she said, waving it off.

“Sing it to me.”, he asked.

“It’s a nursery rhyme, Aemond, and I am not much of a singer.”

“Please.”, he asked, his voice heavy with sincerity. “Teach it to me.”

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts xx

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