The Lady of Asshai •Aemond Targaryen•

7. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SKY

    The flight from Dragonstone to Storm's End seemed to drag on forever. Brass knew that realistically the distance between the two keeps was relatively quite short. However, as she and the young Prince ascended into the murky cloud bank she began to think that the journey felt endless. The building dread was enough to make her stomach turn. On Kirine's back she had been left alone with her anxiety and intrusive thoughts. Both of which were winning over her common sense. This was a diplomatic mission that (in theory) would be quick and painless. In, relay Rhaenerya's message, and out again.

She had heard of this Baratheon Lord before. A proud, brutish sort of man. He thought himself higher than his already lofty station. Brass and Luke had already agreed that she would remain silent in his presence. They didn't want to risk insulting the man's ego by having her address him. A girl of such lowly status. No, she would remain silent and on the sidelines, instead a reminder of Rhaenerya's strength. Another dragon in the arsenal.

Luke had been so nervous before their departure. She had found him an hour before in his room pacing in his riding gear. She had suspected she would discover such a scene. Closing the door behind her she crossed the room and dragged him into her arms.

"Be still, you restless thing. There's nothing you need worry about. I shall be right by your side."

Luke clutched onto the girl tightly. Her embrace the same familiar one from his childhood. There was so much that seemed changed about her now, but upon deeper thought he realised she truly was the same girl he remembered. She had always been wise, quick and kind. And to him she had always been beautiful. Despite her shame. Despite her scar. Rather, because of it. She carried it because of him. She carried it for him. All so he wouldn't have to. The best kept secret in the Realm was the depth of her loyalty and devotion. She had saved him before she ever truly knew him, and even after he damaged her in such a way it stared at her every time she looked in a mirror she forgave him. He wasn't sure in the same circumstance he would be able to do the same thing.

"I'm afraid he will call me a bastard." Luke's words were muffled into Brass' shoulder, but she understood him perfectly.

Pulling him back so she could look him in the face, Brass said firmly, "No matter what anyone calls you, I know who you are and so do you. You are the son of Rhaenerya Targaryen; The rightful Queen of Westeros. Valyrian blood runs through your veins. One day you shall inherit Driftmark and no amount of bluster from arrogant men is ever going to change that."

He huffed out a tight breath. Indeed. Still as wise as ever. Probably even more so. Words as soothing as a cool balm. With her hands still on his shoulders and a tilt of her head she asked, "Do you trust me, boy?"

He nodded emphatically. "Yes, of course. Always."

She smiled devilishly. "Then believe me when I tell you something."

"I do believe you!" He insisted.

Her eyebrow rose in that all-knowing way she had perfected after years and years of correcting him. "Tell that to your face." She tweaked his nose.

He shoved her in a way that let her know he was just playing. They shared a quiet laugh. She was good at that. At making him feel good even when he had absolutely no reason to. She ruffled his hair.

"We must be fearless now, Luke. I need you with me. We can do this for Rhaenerya, as long as we're a team. And if this Baratheon Lord does call you a bastard just remember, it matters not the names a man may call you, it is the one you answer to."

He could feel pride surging through him. He was proud to be his mother's son, and he was proud that Brass was his friend. He was proud she thought him worthy of the honour. It would be an insult to both women for him to act a coward now. He had a duty to them, and he had hurt Brass once before. He would not let anything happen to her ever again. He kept reaffirming the sentiment over and over again in his mind on the back of his dragon. It gave him a point of focus. He used it like a chant in his head. In many ways, it kept him from crumbling apart.