He looked back at Shaera and her mother as the pair embraced once more. Rhaenyra smoothed down Shaera's hair, whispering teary words that only the young woman would be able to hear, and Shaera only smiled half-heartedly-exhausted beyond compare, Qoren did not doubt. 
It was selfish of him. Selfish that he was almost...pleased.
He had heard that small syllable leave her cracked and dried lips, and though she may have hoped none caught it, he did.
Ae-
Qoren knew what she meant to say, and he knew why she caught herself. He thought it should make his heart clench and his stomach turn, but he felt none of that. Not even a lick of green envy bubbled in the back of his throat. Perhaps it was because he knew he had...well, for lack of a better word, won. But that seemed wrong to even think.
Winning.
Such a situation wasn't so simple nor so objectifying, but in many ways, it was the only manner of describing it. Qoren should be thanking Aemond Targaryen for snapping like he did, otherwise, the boy may have managed to steal Shaera away when she woke. Instead, Rhaenyra ferried her family back to Dragonstone, and Qoren was-for now-promised Shaera's hand in marriage. 
Let Shaera call for Aemond, Qoren thought. He would never be called husband by her. Not like Qoren would.)
Rhaenyra smoothed a few hairs away from her face, and Shaera leaned into her mother's touch.
"You...you worried me, sweet girl," Rhaenyra chuckled with teary eyes. "You worried me so...so, so much."
Shaera swallowed back tears despite the ache in her throat. "S-Sorry, I-"
"Do not apologize, sweet girl." Her mother leaned in and hugged her once more. "Never apologize to me. It should be I apologizing to you."
Shaera furrowed her brows.
"I never should have brought you along," Rhaenyra whispered. "Or your brothers and sisters." Her fingers combed through Shaera's dark-brown hair, gently edging out small knots here and there. Shaera wished to argue with her mother, but she couldn't even manage a few words strung together. "Only Luke and Jace should have come. Just long enough to fight Vaemond's claims, and ensure their legitimacy was upheld over those...rumors. I put you" -she pulled away, holding Shaera's arms as if she were glass- "in harm's way, and I shall never forgive myself for it."
Shaera shook her head quickly. 
It's not your fault, mother, she wished to say. It's not your fault and please don't blame yourself. But I'm glad I came along. We all are. Please don't regret it. But no such words left her.
Rhaenyra smiled softly. "I suppose some good did come from it, hmm?"
Like mother, like daughter; perhaps Rhaenyra could read her mind.
"Jace and Baela have been inseparable. I fear Daemon is less than enthused about how much time they spend with one another, but I've never seen either so happy. Well except for..." Her lips twitched with amusement. "Perhaps when the young Lord Stark was around they found much joy in companionship."
Shaera snorted and immediately regretted it as the burst of air tickled her throat in the wrong way and she was sent into a coughing fit.
Rhaenyra jumped to her aid, rubbing her back and holding a handkerchief to her lips. Shaera coughed into the small square of fabric, wheezing and huffing as her lungs fought her viciously. They ached and burned as they rattled against her ribs, and Shaera thought that maybe her lungs were bruised in the shape of bones. Her throat burned, and she felt something hot and wet spray into her mouth, past her lips, and onto the handkerchief.