House Of The Dragon: Sweet Sister

Aelora Velaryon stood in stark contrast to her brothers, who bore the dark hair and deep-set eyes. Instead, she was a mirror of her mother, Princess Rhaenyra, with cascading silver locks and enchanting lilac eyes that sparkled like amethysts. This resemblance, however, did not endear her to Queen Alicent. The queen regarded Aelora with a mixture of disdain and jealousy, for the girl's likeness to Rhaenyra served as a haunting reminder of their shared youth and the rivalries that had since unfurled between them.

Yet, Aelora's uncles held a different sentiment. Aegon, the eldest, was particularly taken by her beauty. Like a loyal pup, he trailed behind her, his words spilling forth in a torrent as she remained soft-spoken and serene. Aemond, his younger brother, was equally captivated but far more reserved, his shy glances betraying a fervent interest. He observed her every move, his heart fluttering with unspoken admiration.

Jacaerys, Aelora's brother, cherished her deeply, perhaps too deeply. Born merely a year before her, he often found himself overwhelmed by his affection. The absence of a hatching dragon egg weighed heavily on Aelora's spirit, casting a shadow over her youthful exuberance. Aemond, however, felt a strange relief at this misfortune, pondering whether this might create a space for him to draw closer to her. Aelora's ethereal beauty had spread like wildfire across the realm, and though she was still a child, suitors were already vying for her hand. Each time Rhaenyra declined a proposal, Jacaerys silently rejoiced.

"My daughter is still a child; she has not yet blossomed," Rhaenyra would assert, her voice filled with maternal protectiveness. Jacaerys longed to voice his true feelings and declare, "Betroth her to me," but fear of his mother's wrath silenced him.

Aelora was a gentle soul, embodying the sweetness of her lineage as the beloved child of Rhaenyra and Laenor. In Aegon's mind, she was more than a niece; she was the object of his admiration, though he dared not speak of it. Even Ser Harwin Strong, a steadfast protector and the biological father of Aelora, found himself doting on his only daughter.

Tragedy, however, cast a long shadow over their lives. The death of Laena Velaryon, Aelora's aunt, would forever haunt them. It was the same night Aemond had usurped Vhagar, an act that ignited chaos. Aelora, blissfully unaware, had been asleep while her brothers and cousins clashed with Aemond. When a maid roused her, she emerged into a scene steeped in violence. The sight of Lucerys, bloodied and hurt, sent a chill through her as she stood beside her brothers, confusion clouding her mind.

"Jace? Luke! Show me. Show me," Rhaenyra implored, kneeling beside Lucerys. Panic gripped the room as accusations flew, and when Aelora heard Aemond had uttered vile words, her gaze fell upon him, a mixture of concern and disbelief in her eyes.

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might uncover the source of such slanders," Rhaenyra declared, her voice unwavering as she gathered her children close.

"Over an insult? My son has lost an eye," Alicent retorted, her voice laced with indignation.

King Viserys, weary from the tumult, turned to Aemond. "Boy, where did you hear this lie?" His patience was wearing thin as Aemond averted his gaze, stealing a glance at his mother before looking away.

"Aemond... I asked you a question," Viserys pressed, the tension palpable. Alicent interjected, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? Perhaps he has something to say in this matter."

"I do not know, your grace... I could not find sleep. So I had gone out for a walk," Rhaenyra replied, her voice betraying a quiver of anxiety.

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," Alicent remarked, a knowing look darkening her expression. The king's focus returned to Aemond, demanding, "Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

With trembling lips, Aemond finally responded, "It was Aegon." Shock rippled through the room.

"Me?" Aegon exclaimed, bewildered and caught off guard. As the king approached him with a stern demeanor, Aegon glanced at Aelora, silently pleading for her to disregard Aemond's accusation. Yet, as he beheld the fear in his mother's eyes, he relented, "We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them."

"This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family. Now, offer apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!" King Viserys thundered, his voice echoing with authority.

"Aemond's eyes have been damaged permanently, my king," Alicent began, her voice steady yet filled with sorrow. "Goodwill cannot mend what has been lost."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye," Viserys replied, fatigue creeping into his tone.

"No, because it has been taken," Alicent retorted, her eyes flaring with defiance. "What would you have me do?"

"I shall have her son's eye in return. Aemond is our son, Viserys. Your blood," Alicent declared, her expression resolute. She turned to Ser Criston Cole, her voice sharp, "Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon. He can choose which eye to keep-a privilege he did not grant my son."

Lucerys cried out, clinging to his mother in fear as chaos erupted. Jacaerys grasped Aelora's hand, seeking comfort in her presence amidst the tumult. King Viserys struggled to impose silence on the chaos.

"Alicent, this matter is finished, do you understand? And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's children should have it removed," he proclaimed, his voice resolute, earning a grateful bow from Rhaenyra.

"Thank you, father," she murmured, relief washing over her.

Alicent stood motionless, her face a mask of cold fury. Then, in a sudden frenzy, she lunged for her husband's dagger, raising it toward Lucerys. "Mother!" he cried, fear etched across his features.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed, desperation in his voice.

Rhaenyra reacted swiftly, seizing Alicent's wrist before she could reach Lucerys. Aelora recoiled, fear coursing through her, as Jacaerys wrapped his arms around her and Lucerys, a protective barrier against the chaos. The two women locked eyes, and in that shared moment, Rhaenyra's lips moved as if whispering something that caused Alicent's expression to shift from fury to bewilderment.

Aelora watched in horror as Rhaenyra's hand was nicked by Alicent's frantic grasp, blood seeping forth. Lord Corlys rushed to tend to Rhaenyra, his expression mirroring the shock that had gripped the room.

King Viserys, wearied by the turmoil, commanded that all return to their chambers. Laenor found Aelora that night, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and remaining by her side until she drifted into slumber. An unsettling feeling lingered within Aelora, as if she sensed a finality in the air-a premonition that this might be the last time she would see her father. Yet, she dismissed the thought.

After the harrowing events, Aelora was sent to reside with her grandmother's kin, the Arryns. Rhaenyra assured Jacaerys that the Eyrie would provide peace, soothing his anxious heart. The Eyrie was indeed a vision of serenity and beauty, with the Arryns attending to her with kindness. However, mere days after the death of Laena and her departure, a raven soared through her window, bearing tidings that would change everything.

★

Jacaerys was consumed by an all-encompassing love for his sister, a revelation that struck him like a thunderbolt in the stillness of night. Months after her departure, he could no longer deny the depths of his longing. Each night, he was haunted by visions of her; he whispered her name into the darkness, a soft prayer to the void. He missed her with an ache that gnawed at his very soul, yearning to hear her melodious voice, to gaze upon her countenance, to tenderly brush his fingers against her cheek.

Rhaenyra, ever perceptive, could not help but notice the way her eldest son would often stand by the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if willing Aelora to return. In an attempt to unite their two families, Rhaenyra once suggested a betrothal between Aemond and Aelora, a proposal met with disdain by Queen Alicent. When she turned to Daeron, hoping for a different response, the Queen's rejection was equally resolute.

Aemond seethed with fury; he desired nothing more than to claim Aelora as his bride. What man could resist the allure of such beauty? Yet, the moment his mother turned down Rhaenyra's proposal, his heart shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. Aegon, on the other hand, felt a sense of relief wash over him; he could not bear the thought of his beloved marrying his own brother, nor the idea of her bearing his children.

In stark contrast, Jacaerys found himself laughing in solitude, reveling in the news of the rejected proposal. It was evident to him that he was the more suitable match for his dear sister; they had grown up together, their bond forged in the fires of childhood. Thus, when he approached his mother's study, trembling with a mixture of hope and trepidation, he voiced his heart's desire.

"Betroth her to me," he declared, standing tall, a fine young man now, his stature reflecting the confidence that had blossomed within him.

Rhaenyra was taken aback, her composure momentarily faltering. She had observed Jacaerys's behavior toward Aelora over the years, mistaking his protectiveness for mere sibling affection. But the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes lingered on Aelora, revealed a deeper truth.

"What?" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I have dreamed of Aelora for many years now. I wish no more than to be the man standing by her side," Jacaerys professed, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, a mixture of determination and vulnerability radiating from him.

Those words were all Rhaenyra needed to hear. A smile broke across her face as she nodded in agreement, praying fervently that her children would find happiness in this union. That very day, she sent a raven to the Eyrie, and when Aelora received the missive, her heart remained inscrutable. She had anticipated this turn of events; marriage loomed on the horizon, though she had not expected her future husband to be her own brother.

With a heavy heart yet a resolute spirit, Aelora packed her belongings and sailed back to Dragonstone the following day, bidding a bittersweet farewell to the Arryns.

Upon her arrival at Dragonstone, she was enveloped in her mother's warm embrace. Rhaenyra pulled back, gazing at Aelora's transformed visage. "Look how much you have changed," she mused, eliciting a radiant smile from her daughter.

Behind them stood the rest of the family, and as Lucerys and little Joffrey rushed forward to embrace her, Aelora felt the warmth of belonging wash over her. "We missed you!" Joffrey exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy.

Jacaerys was the last to approach, his heart racing as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. "Aelora," he greeted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Jace," she replied, her voice a soothing melody that sent shivers down his spine.

That night, after the family had gathered for dinner, Aelora retreated to her room, only to find Jacaerys waiting outside. As she approached, he lifted his gaze, their eyes locking in a moment that felt suspended in time.

"Aelora-I was waiting for you," he began, his voice laced with a mix of anticipation and longing.

"Do you need something?" she inquired, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

"I'm just glad you are finally here. It has been years," he replied, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a simple gesture that stirred something deep within him. "You have become even more beautiful, sweet sister."

"Thank you. And you, handsome as ever," Aelora responded, her smile lighting up the dim hallway.

"How is life in the Eyrie?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It's peaceful there. You should go visit someday," she suggested, her voice warm with nostalgia.

"Of course," he nodded, his heart racing as silence enveloped them. He longed to bridge the distance that still lingered between them, to hold her close, but he hesitated, not wanting to overstep.

Aelora offered him a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering with kindness. "Forgive me, but I'm quite tired now. Perhaps we may talk tomorrow?"

Jacaerys nodded, though his heart ached with the desire to linger in her presence. He understood her fatigue; the long journey had surely drained her. And so he resolved to wait, to be patient until the morrow blessed him with another opportunity to share his heart with her.