She is Daemon's daughter but she wants nothing from him, rides a dragon and doesn't shy away from a fight. She also hides a dangerous secret and has her own reasons for coming to King's Landing.
Aemond wonders if he can tame her.
✧...
author's note: it took me an embarrassing amount of time to finish editing this piece because my anxiety has been through the roof recently (but we don't have time to unpack all that :') I'm bringing back the good old fighting in the next chapter! fingers crossed, no one will die...
in the meantime, we are still riding the train of angst ♡
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Her eyes are closed, the world around her blank and dark, her only feeling is the lack of any. It keeps her still, renders her numb; Lia is content with it. But then there is a sound, so quiet and short, it might as well be her imagination; in just a minute she catches it again. It sounds like someone's shuffling from foot to foot — without looking, she figures it comes from the entrance of the cave. The shuffling is both impatient and reluctant: it pauses briefly then resumes, a repeating cycle of eagerness and hesitation. Olwen stays unmoving behind her but she can feel his muscles tensing.
Lia takes a peek through half-open eyes. She slowly adjusts to the gloom before the faded silhouette not far from her takes on shape. When their gazes meet, she thinks no one's ever been happier to see her.
"Is your dragon always this scary or is he signaling he's about to eat me?" Aegon asks cautiously.
"I think it's both."
"Good to know. I don't plan on becoming anyone's breakfast, though."
Aegon keeps his distance but watches her intently — no doubt, he notices the ripped dress, the puffy eyes, the empty face. And his own now isn't only pale but visibly concerned. Lia is so not used to people being worried about her, it feels uncomfortable. She wants to tell him that she needs no pity, reassure him she is fine, get up and leave. But she's not fine and she has nowhere to go. Aegon apparently finds her stillness alarming.
"Besides, he won't like me. It's like eating meat marinated in wine," he takes an uncertain step toward her and casts a glance at Olwen, "You don't like wine, do you? It's sour and it's bad for your health. I can't recommend it."
"And I wonder why some people enjoy it so much."
"It is truly a mystery. Can you maybe assure him that I'd make for a poor meal?"
But she knows Olwen doesn't need reassurances: the mass of his body is relaxed again, and he observes Aegon with a benignant curiosity. He sees no threat in him. Or maybe there is some centuries-old bond between the Targaryens and dragons that Olwen somehow senses and charitably respects. "Worry not, he much prefers sheep. You are too skinny for his liking."
"Oh, Helaena would disagree! She's not very appreciative of my manly forms," the ends of his mouth momentarily curl upward but his joyfulness then fades, "She was looking for you after dinner, you know."
"Why?"
Before any words are formed, she can read the answer in his eyes, mirky blue and veiled with sadness: Helaena came because Lia ran away, because she looked hurt. Because she was hurt. Out loud, Aegon gives a more vague explanation.
