There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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Rhaenar hadn't seen anyone in days, she hadn't eaten, or moved. She remained clinging to the edge, her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed the salty air from below. She had failed Missandei, and she had failed Torgo. Two of the last few people who had crossed with her from Essos. It hurt her deeply, and with little remorse as it ravaged its way through her insides.
Rhaenar was willing to give it all up, and Cersei had denied it. Had she wanted war? Had Cersei let her vengeance take over just to see her family and Rhaenar dead? It doesn't matter now, none of it does. Missandei is dead, they are living, and a war is coming. Her hand kept a tight clutch onto the stone pillar, her eyes seeking the sea beneath.
Everything seemed so dim now, so lifeless. Even the sky was overcast with a heavy rain, making the shadows longer and more ghoul-like as they stretched out across the room. Rhae swallowed, bringing her arms into the black robe that surrounded her, keeping her warm against the cold winds. Hands settled on her arms, warmth snaking in as she was tugged back into a hard chest, two large arms soon wrapping around her shoulders.
Egg's familiarity took her, willing her eyes to shut as she used him to lean back against. "You've been holed up in here for too long." His voice carried gently, his head resting beside her own. "You need to get out, have a bath, feel heat upon your skin." Aegon urged her, concerned for her wellbeing.
Rhae kept silent. "This isn't how she would have wanted you, this isn't how she would have let you be." He tried to coax, but even he knew it was bust.
"How do you know what Missandei wanted?" She asked, an unintentional edge to her voice as Aegon kept her tight to him.
"There was a reason she used Dracarys. It wasn't for you to waste away here while Cersei continues to sit on the throne." He murmured, his head turning to gage her reaction. Rhaenar was emotionless, looking far worse than she ever had before with messes of white hair in knots. Aegon sighed at the sight of her, at how wasted she seemed gazing out gormlessly. "Rhae, please listen to what I'm telling you."
The indigo flickered. "I can hear you, Aegon." But it didn't seem that way. Aegon let his eyes closed as he pressed his head to hers, keeping her engulfed in his embrace as he just held her, as though it would be the glue that could keep her together.
These past few months, these past few years... They had been the worst of her life, and he had witnessed them all. Nothing could have faced the loss and death that they had here, and once they got the Throne, they could begin to heal themselves completely. Rhaenar wasn't mad, but she'd had to deal with the rumours. She'd been called cruel, and unjust; ruthless, and bitter. She'd raged against the storms that didn't want her, and came out stronger, but after one more death, she had begun to crumble like broken glass.
