KING'S LANDING
Aemond was nowhere to be found.
His swift departure from his mother's chambers troubled Hira. After hearing the news of Luke's passing, Aemond fell into a panicked state, calmed only by Hira's voice and Helaena's gentle smoothing.
Afterwards he all but ran, ripping himself from their embrace and dashing across the hall.
Alicent had called out to her son, hand on her chest.
Hira's feet took her to the Godswood, leaving Helaena to her devices, a solemn look on the new queen's face.
The eyes of the white weirwood tree seemed to be judging the Lengii woman, as she knelt beside it, hands digging into the soil.
Her heart mourned for the loss of Luke. In those moments they spent together on Dragonstone the boy slowly became a younger brother to her. He was family. Lucerys was sweet like honey, gentle as a baby calf and far too young to have died the way he did. He deserved to grow old with Jace, see his mother crowned the rightful queen of Westeros. He should be spending his days happily married to Rhaena and flying the skies with Arrax.
He was supposed to live.
Hira made sure he would live.
She failed.
She was truly useless, wasn't she? Mayhaps if they attacked Aemond first, or prevented the chase or sent Luke on a different route, none of this would've happened.
If Zhurong was a little faster.
If Hira was a little stronger willed and ordered her dragon to defeat Vhagar first.
If Aemond wasn't manic or thirsting for bloodshed.
If, if, if.
She fucking hatred the word.
Amongst the dried leaves of the weirwood tree, with beady red eyes staring into her soul, Hira wept until her throat was hoarse.
Eyes closed, the image of Vhagar's jaw was plain and clear.
The screams.
The smell of ash and smoke.
She imagined Luke dying in the arms of his mother. Rhaenyra shrieking loudly into the night, having witnessed her sweet son take his last breath.
Dread filled her, awaiting Rhaenyra's revenge, but most of all she feared her father's retaliation. If one would hurt or threaten his wife, Daemon would reciprocate tenfold and far bloodier, the entire realm knew this. Their family was torn by none other than their kin and they will answer this injustice with fire and blood.
And Aemond was their target.
A fool's dream to think she could save him.
Drenched in agony and exhaustion, Hira came to the realisation that she was tired of mourning her loved ones.
First it was Laena who became her second mother, forever doting on her and welcomed the young girl with open arms.
Jin, who was a brother in everything but blood, sworn to protect and stand by her side as her Sapphire Guard, who defended her honour and brought laughter to her life.
And now Luke, who deserved more than life itself.
Whose blood will be spilled next?
Hira doesn't think she could handle another loss.
Day turned into night and there the princess stayed, the tree of the Old Gods keeping dour company, under the faint crescent of the moon.
How many times had Hira prayed to her gods for the safekeeping of her relatives? All for it to be unanswered by deaf deities who cared little for their follower's plight. Candles and prayers do nothing against war and aimless bloodshed, Hira should've known by now.
When she stood her legs ached, the lack of blood circulation and hunger made itself known in her stomach.
She wondered where Aemond hid himself, perhaps the guilt was eating him from the inside out too?
Soon the realm will know of Luke's demise, that the first blood was spilt by the Greens and war was on the brink. Hira could sense it in the air, the metallic taste lingering on her tongue.
"Of all the lives you had to condemn, did it have to be his?" She murmured into the night, unsure who exactly she was talking to, whether it be the Old Gods of the First Men or the Old Ones of Leng, or perhaps the Seven of the Andals.
Hira supposed it didn't matter in the end, no supreme being held the answers she desperately needed.
She couldn't save Luke, how in the hells will she save Aemond? Save anyone?
Rhaenyra would never accept him into the fold, not after all he's done, even if Aemond happened to switch sides.
And Hira would never betray the Blacks, not for Aemond.
Stuck in the middle of a war in between opposing sides, with her people in the crossfire.
With a defeated, angry breath, Hira picked herself up from the ground and made her way back to the Keep.
A dark cloud hung over her, even the servants and guards kept their distance, afraid of what she may do if snapped.
It was Alicent who crossed her path, a fixated grimace on the woman's face. When she grabbed Hira's shoulder, she almost bared her teeth.
"Where is Aemond?" She demanded.
"I'm not his keeper."
"And yet he follows you around like a lost pup."
"The misplacement of your son is none of my concern." Hira sidestepped the dowager queen, aiming for Helaena's room.
"I fear for my son." Alicent admitted, a dip in her voice, almost desperate. "I need to know Aemond is safe."
It was a weakness to confess this to her. Gone was the stern, prideful woman, only what was left was a mother gnawing at her lips, with bloodied fingernails.
Hira no longer had any compassion for Alicent. Perhaps there was barely anything of that sort to begin with.
Her tone was straightlaced and unforgiving. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have usurped Rhaenyra's birthright. Everything that has happened and will happen is your doing. You brought war to your children by placing Aegon on the throne and expecting Rhaenyra to kneel to a pretender."
As she walked away, Hira found herself lacking sympathy towards Alicent.
For every choice there was a consequence, for every act, a reason.
Whatever led Alicent to overthrow the woman who was once her dearest friend in exchange for her son, didn't matter, it simply paved the way to this moment in time.
Every action from here forward will determine the outcome, whether Hira returns home to Leng or dies in a foreign land for a war she wanted no part of. Whether Aemond is redeemed or forever trapped in his endless pursuit of vengeance. Whether Rhaenyra or Aegon sits the throne and leads Westeros to an unforgettable age.
Hira was determined to survive.
With her mother's mettle and her father's rage, she will crown Rhaenyra queen and save Aemond from himself.
She does not need the gods' favour or their blessings. Hira was gifted with the ability to bond with a dragon who listened to her commands, with a dagger in her hand and fire in her veins.
Brimstone and ash will follow those who step in her way.
The time for grieving has passed. The time for pity and despair was over. No more mourning. No more losses.
That was her vow to herself and as her fingernails bleed into her palm, it marked the vow with blood, solidifying it.
Hira of Leng, daughter of Yhatia, will change the course of the Dance and history will speak her name.
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The Passion of a Thousand Suns | Aemond Targaryen
Fanfiction❛❛ Aemond yearned for her, that much she knew. It was a pity duty held a crown over her head, for Hira would have gladly fallen into his desire. ❜❜ - Hira, known to the Seven Kingdoms as Daemon's bastard daughter. In Leng, a Princess, a daughter of...
