𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒.

𝟏

                                     𝟏𝟏𝟔 𝐀𝐂.
                                        
                                         -☆-
                                                 
𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑.

Her Grace the the Princess Rhaenyra had birthed a third son, and Astraea approached the bedside, making her presence known. She smiled politely the way she'd been taught by her father, but she could see the grimace of pain and discomfort on the Princess' lips.

"And how, sweet one, did you find your way in here?" Rhaenyra asked, face blotted with sweat.

Astraea tugged at the ends of her hair lightly, shrugging slightly. "Jace is a good hider."

The Targaryen chuckles at the comment despite herself, "Well, you're the first to greet the babe."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, if I intruded..." the brunette apologizes as she looks away, distracted by the babe.

It had been four years now since her father, Paul Hawthorne, was accepted into the castle as apart of the council, two since her mother had died. She'd been accepted by Rhaenyra's two boys as one of their own, protecting her best they could from Aegon's habitual teasing. Astraea was a shy child. She hardly spoke, it took ages for Jacaerys, Rhaenyra's first son, to usher a word out of her, and it was a simple "um."

"And what game have you two come up with today?" The Princess wonders. She was used to Jacaerys and Astraea's games, which often involved Lucerys, her second child, and Queen Alicent sons.

"If I manage to find him he'll let me see Vermax." Astraea stared curiously at the babe, who was being swaddled by a wet nurse. An informant walked in, passing along the message the queen had sent about wishing to see the babe, to which the princess defiantly responded to by insisting on bringing the child herself.

"He's enamored with you, sweet thing. He'll do anything you ask of him regardless, though you should start spending time with girls. I fear you'll turn into a duplicate of my sons."

"I like your sons." Astraea sits on the cushion, looking at the princess' face, and wincing at squelching of the afterbirth as the princess dresses herself. "...Are you in terrible pain?"

"The normal amount after childbirth, I'd say," Rhaenyra pulled her dress sleeves up, "though this one came quite easily without...fuss." As the princess took the babe from the wet nurse, Astraea got up to leave.

"I'm never ever having children." She mumbled, turning down the corridor. Rhaenyra laughed, nodding.

"I said just the same thing once, and now I have three beautiful boys. Have you checked the Godswood for him?" The princess limped, a trail of blood behind her, only further fueling Astraea's determination to never bore children.

"Um...no. I shall go there now , then. Although I believe he's gotten quite bored and forgotten all about our game."

Astraea walked through the halls towards the Godswood carefully, checking every shadow for Jacaerys. It was more windy than when the sun was high, and the stone did little to nothing at keeping the draft out. As she walked out into the Godswood, she paused and looked around, sighing.

"Jace? I'm tired of this game, can we do something else?" She called into the open, hoping to the seven he was really here.

"Astraea." She turned around fast, stumbling slightly at the voice behind her.

"You're not Jacaerys."

"How observant." Aemond, who was covered in soot, muttered.

"Are you sad?" She takes a step forward, tilting her head. "If Aegon's putting more nonsense into your head, I assure you none of it's—"

"I fear I'll never claim a dragon," Aemond says, stepping backwards.

"Thats dumb," Astraea smiles at him, "You're practically made for one."

Aemond scowls, not reciprocating the smile. "They gave me a pig."

"What?"

"Jace...and Aegon. Lucerys laughed too." She could tell he was about to cry from the way he'd shifted and lowered his head so she couldn't see.

"Oh...Aemond..." The girl moved closer, putting a hand out to try and touch his shoulder, only to have it slapped away.

"You pity me."

"I was only trying to console you." Astraea furrowed her eyebrows, stepping away.

"I do not know what to make of you yet. You never seem to laugh with them when they belittle me." The boy looked up at her apologetically.

"A friend," Astraea nodded. "And if not that, an ally. I should have you know I'm a wonderful confidant."

"You talk a lot."

"Enough for the both of us." She triumphantly got a tiny smile out of the boy, patting him on the shoulder and wandering back inside to find Jacaerys.

                                      -☆-

"Astraea? Where are you?" Jacaerys' voice ecoed off the walls, calling down the hall. He rounds the corner and finds her walking towards him, a smile spreading on his face.

"Got you." She exclaimed, running towards him.

"No, I saw you first. You didn't find me if I saw you first." Jace ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure.

"Why do you pick on Aemond? He's quite unproblematic, there's no reason to be so hostile." Astraea fixed her hair, raking her hands through it.

"It's just harmless fun, Astraea." He continued down the corridor with her next to him.

"He was upset, therefore harmful." She nudged his arm.

"What do I do, then?"

"Apologize."

"...As you wish, your grace." Jace sarcastically said, sticking out his tongue.

"I'd make a better noble than you."

"The dutiful princess of constellations, her righteous, virtuous, perfect grace." The boy said with a grin, earning a giggle from the girl he'd grown to admire.

Astraea wished this wasn't the last time the Keep would know solace and peace for decades.

But the gods are cruel, after all.