DRAGONSTONE

Hira brushed Joffrey's unruly brown hair with her fingers. The boy settled into her bed, snuggling closer. He was half ready to sleep despite it being early afternoon.

"Comfy, little prince?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Then I shall begin the tale of the sun and the moon and the stars." She launched into the childhood fable. "There was a time when the sun and the moon were married and shared a home in the sky. When the moon left to collect vegetables from the jungle, she asked the sun to guard their sleeping children, cautioning him to keep distance, lest his heat burn their delicate bodies. The sun watched over the babies, cooing at their dimples and tiny little fingers and toes. Overcome with affection and love, he kissed them goodnight, forgetting the moon's warning. When he leaned over their bodies, they melted."

The boy gasped and Hira held back her smile at his reaction. Joff tugged on her hand, urging to continue.

"The foolish father, horrified and afraid of his wife's rage, hid. When the moon returned to an empty sky house, she discovered the tragedy. Mourning the loss of her babies, she waited for the sun, her rage brewing longer and deeper. The sun returned and a terrible, bloody fight commenced. When the sun threw the vegetables at the moon's face, the moon decided then and there to abandon the sun for good. The Elders say this is why on a full night, you can still see the marks left by the sun against the moon's face. The melted children became the stars we wish on and the sun constantly chases the moon, trying to win back her affections."

"Is it true?" He demanded in childish fervour. "Is that why the moon is scarred and why we have stars?"

"It could be. How are we to know the truth of nature? One day there was nothing, then came the gods and creation."

A contemplative look overcame Joff's face. "But why did the sun continue to chase the moon, knowing he hurt her and their children?"

Curious and perceptive the youngest Velaryon boy was. Hira remembered her younger self asking questions upon questions to the scholars and teachers at the academy, wanting to know why the grass was green and not blue like the sea or sky. When she learnt of her father she recalled the hundred of questions she had on dragons and Targaryens.

Hira hummed in thought. "The sun loved the moon, so much so he continued to seek her, even after that heartbreaking betrayal. Mayhaps he thinks she could forgive him, on his path to redemption and time heals plenty of wounds. Would you forgive the sun if you were the moon?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't. You never hurt your family."

"Sometimes you do hurt them, even if you didn't mean to." She said in a serious tone. "What do we do when we hurt someone we love?"

Joff tilted his head. "We give a jar of sweets as an apology?"

Hira threw her head back and laughed. "That is a good start, little prince."

Joffrey played with the gold rings on her fingers as she sang under her breath. The seven year old boy stumbled into her room during the day, hoping to hide from the maester and his lessons. Hira entertained his devious plans, telling the legends of her homeland.

The tale was her favourite story growing up. She loved the idea that the sun and moon lived in constant conflict. Where once they were harmonious, then the murder of their children occurred by the sun's hands. One ran and the other sought the lover endlessly and poorly, failing and rejected at every turn. It was a tale of family and responsibility, how a simple act can have a lasting impression. The beauty in a tragedy and the perpetual hope for redemption and forgiveness.

"Would you forgive the sun?" He queried.

"No." She answered honestly. "I wouldn't."

Hira was taught to value family above all. When her uncle rebelled against the crown and subsequently her mother almost six years ago, he betrayed the family. When the civil war was quelled, the God-Empress slain her brother for treason and his death was celebrated among her family. The Han name survived for centuries, should one threaten it, then death be upon their traitorous soul.

Han have no house words the way Westeros houses do, but if it did, it would be something along the lines of as one, we raise ourselves higher.

From the corner of her eye, she spied the eldest Velaryon by her door. Jace leaned against the wall, sweaty from sword training.

"Keppa gives muna a kiss when she's angry at him." Joff informed.

She wrinkled her nose. "I'd rather have a jar of sweets."

"Me too." He agreed.

"So this is where you've run off." Jace said, striding to the two. "Mother won't be pleased you've missed another lesson."

"I take all the blame, my prince." Hira insisted. "I stole the little pebble from his classes to keep me company."

Jace raised his brow. "Aren't you supposed to be with my mother to talk trade?"

"Caught red handed." Hira declared. "Will you tell on me?"

"What do I get in return for my silence?"

Joff and Hira shared a look, before replying in unison, "A jar of sweets."

Jace pretended to contemplate, before sighing dramatically. "Not good enough."

"If you tell on us, I'll tell on you!!" Joff exclaimed. "Hira, Hira! Jace was the one who -"

"That's it!" Jace grabbed his brother by the armpits and lifted him into the air, spinning him round the room. "Snitches end up in ditches, you know."

A traitorous part of her mind brings an image of their children. Little dark haired babies with the chubbiest of cheeks and lilac eyes with tanned, soft skin.

The part that belonged to Aemond, the fragile, hopeless part, growled and bared its teeth.

Hira told them to shut up, as crazed as she was. She's had enough of the endless, mind-fucking that plagued her.

She's been betrothed to Jace for two years now and in between those moons he's taken her on dragon rides, hikes along the cliff's edge and once he tucked a bluebell over her ear. All Hira saw was the rocky isle and lavenders. Jace was honeyed wine to an alcoholic, and Aemond was water to a thirsty, dying man.

The Velaryon prince was the calm after a storm, as calm as deep rivers and the rising sun. He smoothed Hira in a way that complimented her rather than ignited her wild tendencies. His kisses on the back of her hand were soft. Kind and boyish. Not in the way Aemond's kisses were. Rough, consuming, demanding.

Yet when Jace said her name all Hira heard was Aemond's possessively deep tone that warmed her body and sent shivers along her spine. Hira compared them so much so she grew hysterical from it. She screamed into her pillow one night, willing her gods to forgive her for desiring another. To let the torment wash away with her sins. The next day she kneeled on the sands of Dragonstone and prayed until her knees and elbows ached and her eyes burned.

Her prayers remained unanswered and unfulfilled.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Stupid, foolish, malicious Aemond who never wrote back. Who gave her all his affections and stole it away in the same breath. Who abandoned her like her father. Who passed her off to another like her mother.

Stupid, foolish, gloomy Hira who shed tears for a boy who kissed her. Pressed pretty kisses along her neck and sighed into her mouth. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Not one letter over the two years of her exile in Dragonstone. Helaena had sent one raven in the beginning and that was all the correspondence she received from the capital. They all promised to keep in touch. They were liars, the lot of them, Hira included. For she tried and tried for a year, yet every raven that flew to the capital returned empty handed.

When a year had passed with no sign, Hira accepted her loss. Aemond may still hold a meagre place in her heart, but her future was Jace. It stung at first, holding his hand and gracing him with smiles. It felt false, like an actor playing an ill suited role. But he was pleasant and easy on the eyes. He took his time to get to know her, remembered her favourite flowers, how she liked her wine and knew that she had a habit of swimming at night.

He would place a crown on her head and name her queen. What more could any woman want in this life?

It wasn't love, it was duty that tied her to the heir's heir. And as Jace chased little Joffrey around her chambers, Hira forced herself to forget the one-eyed prince, the memory of his touch faded away with every laugh that escaped Jace's mouth.

If Aemond had forgotten her, then so will she in turn.

[ x ]

"The Han fleet has passed through the Gull. Princess Rhaenys confirmed their arrival and safe passage." Hira announced upon entering Rhaenyra's solar.

Jace had taken Joff to his lessons, making sure he stayed there and not wander off again. After confirming with the sentry guards Hira went to inform Rhaenyra.

"That is good news." Rhaenyra replied from the divan, a hand on her stomach.

The entire castle had been busy preparing Dragonstone for her Lengii kin and the ships gifted by Yhatia. Along with the ships came the soras, an elite warrior class obligated to answer the summons of royal blood. Men and women under her command alone, it was both terrifying and gratifying. Unused rooms were cleaned and furnished, ready for occupation. The food stores were packed to the brim. There were no landing docks in Dragonstone, despite housing the Royal Fleet on its waters. That was until Daemon had one built six moons ago to accommodate the five hundred ships that soon made their way to the island. A small outpost was built next to the ports to house the rest of the Lengii.

If the crown held any suspicions on Westeros's new guests, Hira knew nothing, kept in the dark by both Rhaenyra and Daemon.

She cared little for this. Besides, she had bigger worries to concern herself with. Her mother's Yi Ti husband Mehmed was set to arrive soon. A stern, gruff man who turned his nose when she was legitimated. General of the Lengii fleet and ordered by her mother to present a smooth transition from Leng to Dragonstone. Hira remembered him to be brusque and impatient.

Hira pointedly ignored her father who was also perched on the divan next to his wife. Sliding onto the opposite cushion sofa, she plucked sour grapes from the bowl laid on the side table and popped them into her mouth. "How is mother and babe?"

"Exhausted. The little one keeps me up throughout the night."

Hira offered a pity smile, recalling her sister's pregnancy. "I heard babes who sit on the mother's bladders are a sign they'll be a girl, if that's any consolation."

"A younger sister would do the boys well." Rhaenyra answered. "Their elder sister enjoys terrorising their poor souls, it would be a nice change."

Hira shrugged. "Toughens them up. My uncle left me in the forests for a forthright when I was ten. Came back with twigs in my hair and my first kill over my shoulder. Made a lovely tiger pelt from it."

"Mayhaps Yhatia's daughter was swapped with a savage forest child?" Daemon mocked.

Hira pursed her lips. "Very good. Do you have more insults hidden beneath your enormous head?"

"Aegon and Viserys were looking for you last night." Rhaenyra interrupted, lest father and daughter start another argument. "Your stories help them sleep better than their nannies."

"I spent my evening with Jace." Hira answered.

"Without a chaperone ?" Daemon asked, as if he cared about those sorts of things.

"The tavern keeper was a brilliant chaperone, as were his guests. A lovely bunch, one even threw a jug of ale at my face in his excitement."

She eyed the jug next to the fruits contemplatively. Daemon saw this and grinned widely, almost daring her.

Their relationship had their ups and downs during her exile back. She accepted the betrothal for duty and forsaken her attachments to Aemond for her own sanity. Whatever her reason Daemon was pleased when she stopped sending letters to the capital and spent her time with her betrothed instead. There was a wickedness in Daemon that mirrored her own, but if it ever came to it, Hira would choose her future children over ambition, unlike her father. Daemon's greed for power outrivaled Hira's wants, though he saw it as a mere childish fancy.

"It does us well to have allies across the sea." Rhaenyra commented. She had a pensive look on her, chewing her lip and stroking her stomach almost obsessively.

Something was brewing, Hira tasted it on her tongue.

Disliking the way stress looked on the pregnant mother, Hira threw a grape at Daemon's head. It hit his eye and fell into his lap with a plopping sound. She threw another and another until Daemon leapt to his feet and Rhaenyra burst into laughter. Hira ran straight to the window, throwing herself from the ledge. She giggled as Daemon bellowed above. Her nimble footing carried her across the walls, thankful for the rocky climate.

She found herself tumbling into Rhaena's room through the window, her sister wide-eyed at her entrance. She was stitching a tunic of sorts, with Luke lounging on her bed. She winked at the two before crossing the room. Peeking out, she made sure the coast was clear before heading to her chambers.

True to her word, Rhaena was adamant on mending their relationship. They spent a few nights in each other's rooms braiding each other's hair, flying on Zhurong with Rhaena strapped in the back, hands gripping Hira's and yelling excitedly. They journeyed to Driftmark once to visit Baela, the twin almost crying in relief seeing their joined hands.

Life in Dragonstone was content.

It would not last very long.