The Wild Dragon

Chapter 18 - Reunited

Alaera Targaryen watched the dragons approach. The first to land was Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, ridden by her sister's husband, her Syrax following just a few wingbeats behind.

"You took your sweet time, dear Alaera," Daemon said, descending in smooth and practiced moves.

"I had to escape a marriage.... without a dragon, this time" she replied with a pang of pain in her chest, longingly glancing at his red dragon. "Which, as you know, is totally new to me!" Alaera said, trying to alleviate the heavy atmosphere with self irony, her eyes already on her sister who was descending from Syrax's saddle. After her feet touched the sand, Rhaenyra simply stopped, her eyes glued to Alaera's. She was able to see all strength and self control leave her older sister's body, now slumping under her eyes.

Alaera's heart broke once again at the sight of her sister's pain, so clearly reflected in Rhaenyra's red, puffy eyes, on her ashen features, even in her sunken shoulders and her wobbly feet. Everything about her screamed deep suffering, so intense as to tear down even the strongest person.

All Alaera could do was walk toward her, to offer herself as crutch, but was suddenly stopped by Daemon's iron grip. "I hope you finally decided what side of this war you are on, my dear Alaera! I do not tolerate traitors!" he said under his breath, so that his wife would not hear him, she knew.

"I am on my Queen's side," she snarled, not even looking at him. "Now take your hand off of me!" she said and pulled her arm from his hand.

She practically ran to Rhaenyra and embraced the older woman who at once crumpled in her arms and fell to the ground, pulling Alaera with her. It was as if all her power was suddenly exhausted, so much so that Alaera now held a heaving Rhaenyra, who looked at her desperately, still somehow incredulous about her latest loss, begging to be given even the smallest hope. "My Luke," she sobbed, grabbing Alaera's arms in a steely grip she knew would bruise, though it did not matter. Her body would recover. Her sisters' pain would never truly heal. Rhaenyra's lilac eyes glistened with tears searching for something Alaera could not give. She had no way of contradicting the reality of Luke's demise, for unbeknownst to her queen she had seen it all through the eyes of his killer. "My sweet boy," Rhaenyra said and curled herself in Alaera's lap. Sometime later she heard her mutter the words "my baby" in a tone of utter despair.

Without even noticing, tears started flowing from Alaera's eyes, but they were not for those already departed but for the woman who had lost her father, her son and her crown almost at the same time. She could not imagine the amount of agony plaguing her sister, but she did her best to soothe her, to infuse her some of her own fortitude, through her lips glued to Rhaenyra's forehead, through the force of her embrace, through her gentle words. "I know, I'm so sorry, they loved you so very much, they are with mother now," she said softly again and again, caressing her sister's back, rocking her slowly, pulling her to herself, offering all that she had, trying to somehow take even a sliver of all that pain onto herself. She knew it was not possible. A mother's suffering was her own and no sister, no matter how loving, could ease such intrinsic burden.

When her own tears had dried and Rhaenyra's sobs had diminished, she noticed her sister's body, now curled up. Her belly was so much smaller than last time they had met, just a few days ago. A new wave of sorrow hit her. She must have lost the baby, the much awaited little girl Rhaenyra had planned to name Visenya. Her head snapped to Daemon still standing a dozen paces away. His head was slightly bowed telling her that he too was saddened. He turned his face to her and their eyes met shortly. The dread she felt increased tenfold but she pushed it down. She would rein in her own anger because she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon already had too much of it.

She felt her sister stir and helped her stand as their aunt Rhaenys landed on the back of Meleys. The older woman looked at them, Alaera sustaining their Queen on her wobbly feet. She saw compassion and understanding there, another mother who had lost her children. Both her children. A wave of guilt passed through Alaera, remembering the time some four years ago when she had stumbled upon a definitely living Laenor in land far away. Her aunt nodded shortly to Alaera and left, following the steps to the keep and allowing them privacy. Even the dragonkeepers made short work of taking the three dragons away to their caves beneath the keep.