Fire And Blood

Three Heads

Rhaenys III

The days following their conversation and agreement about the Westerosi sellswords, Rhaenys had spent a lot of time watching her brother. He was still the brooding little boy, but something had changed. If she would have to pinpoint it to a certain time, she'd say the change had begun shortly after his talk with her uncle.

He was...lighter. He walked with surer steps, with a certain confidence he hadn't had before and his head was held higher. Was it because he finally accepted his royalty? Was it because he finally shed the illusion of his bastardy? Would it make a difference if it was one or the other? Would shedding his bastardy not mean that he was accepting his royalty or would accepting his royalty not mean that he was shedding his bastardy?

"Something the matter, Rhaenys?"

Startled out of her thoughts, she looked away from the dragon eggs in the fireplace and at her brother, who had just entered the sitting room with their aunt.

"No, no. Just thinking." Her aunt raised a brow at her. Lies and secrets sow distrust. Honesty builds trust. She sighed. It had become somewhat of a promise between them and it was a good promise. "I was thinking about how you have changed since your talk with Uncle Oberyn."

They sat down by the table, Aegon smiling at her. "A nice coincidence that you mentioned this. I want to talk to you. Both of you."

She and Dany exchanged a fleeting glance before looking at Aegon.

"Go on," their aunt said.

"A big speech is unnecessary. I shall just say it: I...stake my claim. I am Prince Rhaegar's son and the – and the throne is...it is mine by rights." He swallowed thickly.

A giggle threatened to break through and she had a hard time smothering it. "You, uh, you do not sound sure of yourself," she noted.

"It is queer to say this out loud, admittedly. But I have thought about nothing but this decision, these past two months. I am a Targaryen. I am Rhaegar Targaryen's son and the throne is mine by rights." He took a breath, his expression now as serious as she had ever seen it. "I am a Stark. I am Lyanna Stark's son and a Stark always does his duty." He chuckled sadly. "There is a certain irony to this: my mother was meant to marry Robert Baratheon, my uncle said. Instead, she eloped with Prince Rhaegar. She did not fulfil her duty."

Furious, poisonous anger bubbled inside of her, threatening to overwhelm her. She wanted to scream and rage. Had Lyanna Stark honoured her – arrangement? betrothal? – then, possibly, none of the rebellion would have happened. Her hands were balled into fists on the table, shaking, and her jaws were clenched so tightly, she feared for her teeth.

But then she watched her brother. She had started with hating him and now she loved him. He was sweet to her, he genuinely cared for her and he just wanted them to be good siblings. Did he look up to her? She didn't want to go that far. She did, however, believe that he respected her, both as a person and as his older sister, and that he valued her opinion on things. He cared so much for her and, despite her bleeding heart, she cared much for him as well. She was ready for him to wed and bed her – if that didn't prove her trust in Aegon and her love for him, then she didn't know what else could.

'Mother, little Aegon, I am sorry for saying this but I cannot help myself.' Swallowing down the bile of guilt, she reached over and covered her brother's hand with hers.

"For what it's worth, little brother, I am glad your mother eloped with our father. I wouldn't want to miss you."

He looked at her with wonder and gratefulness and squeezed her hand. It helped stem the bleeding of her heart just a bit.