green lies, black hearts

XLIV

a/n ~ heyyyyyy! I shall make this note very brief as I know y'all would much rather read the chapter than my woes lol!

I've been dealing with a lot of depression for many reasons, and though I love this fic dearly, the angst definitely does not help my headspace lol. This chapter took 6 months to write, and maybe you can tell, hopefully not though. I wrote it and rewrote it a bunch. It's been a chapter I've had planned since the beginning and I just didn't want to disappoint, so I hope I haven't, even after this long break.
But I've finally finished a project that took me a year to complete (iykyk), and I've landed a new job that will provide me much more writing time! I appreciate everyone who is still here even with my hiatuses. Truly, y'all mean the world to me. I couldn't keep writing this fic after almost four years without y'all.

This is a part 1 (no aemond pov this chapter only cause next chapter is mostly him!), and it's really just one scene. But an important one. More drama next chapter that hopefully will not take a century again lmao. Hope y'all enjoy, and as always, apologies for any and all mistakes!

Happy pride month my loves :)

CW - passive suicidal ideation

- mint

~+~

It would later be said that it was an ill omen for Prince Aemond Targaryen that on the day he was voted and named regent for the king, Prince Daemon Targaryen had captured Stone Hedge, and forced House Bracken to bend the knee. The Riverlands were Queen Rhaenyra's before the crown even kissed Aemond's brow.

~+~

Shaera

"Careful, now," Helaena cooed absently, running her fingers through Jaehaera's milky-silver hair. "Your aunt, Shaera, needs you to be gentle, hmm?"

Jaehaera pouted a little, and she flopped onto the bed beside Shaera's outstretched legs, and Maelor grumbled a bit as he lied on his belly, gnawing on some wooden toy he preferred. Shaera only smiled at the pair, encouraging Jaehaera up towards the pillows so she could at least sit beside her. Everything still hurt, and Shaera wasn't entirely certain how long she had been cooped up in her old chambers, but Grand Maester Orwyle was a talented man—damned as she was to admit it—and her fevers had ceased to burn her. Even now he worked on the sutures on her scalp, and she caught a small smile he tried so desperately to hide as Jaehaera giggled and bounded over to Shaera's outstretched arm. The old burn scars hurt very little now. They were mere kisses in comparison to the wounds she received at Rook's Rest and after.

"How does Prince Aegon fare?" she asked, brushing a curl from Jaehaera's pale face.

Helaena looked to Orwyle, who did not comment on the title, and he only said, "The king still lives. But he is not so lucky as you, princess." His dark eyes narrows at a particularly stubborn section, and Shaera winced as he maneuvered scabbed flesh up and away from the sinew thread. Relief tickled her scalp as he clipped the suture and pulled it out. "You both have many, many moons of healing ahead of you."

"If he wakes," Shaera commented quietly, and there was no malice to her tone. Only exhaustion.

Orwyle hummed, "Indeed."

With a sigh, Grand Maester Orwyle straightened up and he set his tools on the table, seemingly pleased with his handiwork, and Shaera could not help but whisper her gratitude. Though she woke everyday hoping she was dead, she appreciated the lengths Orwyle had gone to to keep her breathing and her fevers down. Even her feet were healing well, and she was able to walk more and more with each passing day. Of course, she only ever walked around her room.