Chapter Text
Some days you believed you were born cursed.
“I am the one that does not belong,” you cried to your grandmother. Her eyes soft and understanding. “I want to look like them, like my brothers!”
Your utter desperation for dark features threatened to choke your life from your lungs. The permanent reminder that you were not like them, you were not included, you were not the same. Why had the Gods forsaken you?
“Oh, my sweetling,” her hand caressed your cheek, your face turning towards the warmth, “you must see how they follow you around like ducklings. They care not for your hair or your eye color. Especially Lucerys. Why do you think your seat at dinner is always between them? There is no wrath like a Targaryen fighting for their favorite sister. They look up to you and you have never steered them wrong little dove. You are the eldest. You must lead by example.”
Her soft words did not comfort you, instead, they reminded you of another affliction.
Firstborn.
Everyone spoke of your youth, not yet to your eighth nameday but you were not stupid. You had inherited your mother’s clever mind, as well as her temper. And despite the stage, the ridiculous pedestal you had been placed on upon your birth, you knew that no one ever wanted a daughter as a firstborn. Not your mother and certainly not your grandsire.
Only sons mattered but it seemed that life had been cruel to your mother the same way it had to hers. The first daughter of a first daughter.
You told your grandmother as much, tears spilling from your lashes, and she smiled knowingly. The queen who never was, of course she understood. “Oh darling, your brothers’ adorations pale in comparison to that of your mother’s. You surely must know; you are her most precious gem. And mine. Our first grandchild, no one can take that from you.”
You cried in her lap through the night. You loved your grandmother, she was the only one you had known, but she would never understand that it was her clear favoritism that hurt you. You knew that her and your grandsire favored you and Laena’s daughters. The Lord of the Tides always said it was his fate to be surrounded by powerful women. But you knew, you all knew, the real reason. Your face might not be an exact imitation of either your parents, but there was no mistaking the violet of your eyes.
“Silver tongue to match the silver hair, princess,” they’d tell your mother proudly, your hair so silver it was all but white. A contrast to the dark features of your brothers. Unwanted features. She would grab you tightly, a warning. Keep silent, her eyes flashed as she smiled graciously.
A silver tongue indeed.
It was a sunny morning the day you met your third brother. The air smelled of blood and rose water, the soap that clung to your mother’s skin. Your father placed him into your arms and he immediately latched onto your offered finger.
“His name is Joffrey,” your mother told you, her eyes cutting across to your father – who smiled sheepishly at her. You watched them, an entire conversation between them but no words used.
You knew that they both cared deeply for each other. They might even love each other; your life was proof enough of that. But you also knew that what they had was not true love. No matter how much your mother tried to convince you otherwise, nor, how much your Septa reminded you that true love only existed in stories. Eyes on your father’s hands, as they rested on your mother’s shoulders, you sighed. The farce of their marriage was weak but you were undeniably their child, seemingly a first and only attempt.
“I want to hold him again!” Luke shouted over Jace, their voices sharp and loud. Joffrey squirmed in your arms and you caught your mother’s wince as she shifted on the chaise.
Before your father could interrupt, you turned to them. “Boys,” you said sternly, “enough.”
They quieted instantly and you swayed the babe in your arms back into his slumber. The blankets surrounding your newest brother fell sideways and you caught sight of the dark hair on his little head. Ice struck your heart, for the third time.
“Good day,” a familiar deep voice joined your family’s, “I have come for the princes, they are being called to the dragon pit.”
Their groaning was cut short by your look and they grumbled, each kissing your mother on the cheek before departing through the doors. Your father brushed your temple with unmistakable affection before following your brothers.
A gentle silence filled the room but you could not find it within yourself to take your eyes off your newest brother. “Another boy, I’ve heard,” Ser Harwin said, “may I?”
Your mother made a soft noise. “Sweetling, Ser Hawin wishes to meet the babe,” your mother said.
Arms tightening around him, not ready to let go yet, you frowned. “Well, he will need to wait then, won’t he?” You snipped back, the thick fabric of your dress rustling as you swayed from side to side.
Your mother scolded you, but you held firm, eyes still on the brown tufts of hair on his head. He did not yet know how to properly open his eyes and he was already one of them. Fingers tracing his dark brow softly, you closed your own, the bruise of melancholy thudding a little louder against your ribcage. Bending forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead. No matter, your isolation grew but you would protect him just the same as the others.
“Leave her,” Ser Harwin said, coming up to your right arm, “she has the right to hold her brother. She is the eldest, and he will be taking her orders as soon as he can walk. A beloved sister rules the family.”
Despite knowing the truth, the shameful envy that poisoned your very being, Ser Harwin seemed unable to fight against the fondness in his voice. “I had a dream last night,” you told them, voice quiet, “I was getting ready for a feast and when I looked in the mirror – I had hair and eyes that matched my brothers’.”
Your mother sighed, leaning her head onto the cushion behind her and pinched the bridge of her nose. Joffrey chose that moment to open his eyes and stare directly into yours. Brown eyes, brown hair, dark features. Lost in his drowsy stare, your heart swelled at the sight of it, I love you so much little one. You startled when a hand dropped to your shoulder. Ser Hawin’s fingers pulled gently at a lock of your silver hair. “It would be a disservice to your fate, Princess, if you had been born just as common as the rest of us.”
You knew he was trying to alleviate the tension but you refused to let it go. “Mayhaps, but it would be less lonely,” you said, passing your brother into Ser Hawin’s arms. His hand on your wrist delayed you from getting too far. “Only one silver crown, and she was cursed to be born a woman,” you muttered, the words you’d heard the Hand utter often.
“We will continue our training after this, yes?” You knew he was trying to bribe you, but it was working. He leaned down towards your ear and your eyes darted up to your mother’s. She gazed, exasperated and just a little fond, at the both of you. “It matters not what color hair any of you have, you are exactly as you need to be. Do not let anyone make you believe you otherwise.”
You glanced up at him through your lashes, shy smile budding on your face. Wrapping your arms around him, his armor hard and unyielding, you pressed one more kiss to Joffrey’s head before pressing one to your mother’s cheek. “I am glad you are alright, mother,” you said, before walking towards the door. “I am going to go get Aemond from the dragon pit! He wanted to practice last time too.”
Swinging the door open, it smacked the stone and you heard your mother scold you as you rushed away.
“You spoil her Harwin, she will never learn if you do not stop. She has got to change; they will eat her and spit her out if she does not. The discussion of my succession is already being put into question. No doubt Alicent will use her against me.”
His laughter was deep and sincere. “She is just a girl, Rhaenyra. She will grow up in due time, do not force her. She will have a lot on her shoulders, same as you do. Give her this time before it is lost to her forever. Now, how do you feel?”
Your mother’s response was lost as you ran, ignoring the gasps of a few surprised servants that you passed. Skirts tightly wrapped in your fists; you hurried down a familiar path towards where the rest of your family was surely gathered. Jace had needed to train with Vermax. A servant grabbed your horse, a beautiful white mare, and you were off.
The familiar laughter of your brother reached you as you descended the steps into the pit. A guard stationed at the bottom bowed his head. “My Princess,” his deep voice echoed and had the boys’ heads whipping towards you. Jace had a pinched expression that you knew meant they were up to no good.
Ignoring the pained sigh Aegon let out, you greeted the men in front of you. “Rytsas,” you bowed politely towards the trainers, who all smiled at you.
“Greetings Princess,” the oldest master answered, his High Valyrian smooth in a way you wished yours could be. “Onixa is sleeping, she fed this morning and has retreated into Syrax’s cave. I do not think she would mind a visit from you.”
Of course she was, your dragon lived to curl next to your mother’s – who in turn only tolerated the badgering affection from Onixa. “Thank you,” you said politely, smiling at them both, “I am here to visit my brothers.”
“Ah,” he nodded towards the back, “they have made a few odd requests this morning. I will leave you to your duties, I must tend to the newest clutch. Please give the princess our congratulations and let us know when your newest brother’s egg has hatched.”
“Of course,” you let them take their leave but quirked a brow at the thought of your brothers requesting anything.
“Yes, she is the one. I have yet to see anyone take to a dragon as quickly as the princess. Onixa has eyes only for her, you will see next week during her training. A true Targaryen. Not even Princess Rhaenyra connected as quick. The command between them is-” You smiled at the praise the master was unknowingly given you but you could not help but feel the cut for what it was.
A true Targaryen.
“What an honor to grace us with your presence,” Aegon grumbled. He grunted as you stepped on his foot with your heel, ignoring him completely as you went straight to your brother. Aegon doubled over, pained grunt echoing.
“What have you done?” You asked your brother, ignoring Aegon’s mumbled insults.
Jace’s cheeks went red. “I do not know what it is you speak of,” he muttered, hand reaching for his earlobe – a nervous habit he’d yet to rid himself of. “I managed to get Vermax to listen to me today.”
“Jacaerys.”
His eyes went down to his feet and you heard Aegon snort behind you. Whipping your head around towards him, you felt a bit of satisfaction at the nerves his eyes betrayed. “You baby them all too much,” he sneered, glancing at his hands as an attempt of disinterest. “You are not their mother.”
“Is that jealousy I hear? Perhaps if you were not such a raging twat, I would be nicer to you. Where is Aemond?”
Aegon rolled his eyes, used to your barbs. You could never understand how you brothers tolerated him. He was the eldest and bitter that he could not hold your parentage over your head like he did your brothers’.
The sound of a pig at the furthest end of the pit caught your attention. Luke, poorly hidden behind a cluster of boulders, winced. Dread swirled low in your belly. “I will speak to the both of you at dinner. Go to your rooms or I will tell your Septas you have not done your readings.”
They both opened their mouths but your sharp stare silenced them again. When you turned back to Aegon, you narrowed your eyes. “He is your brother. You should not be so cruel to him but to expect more from you would be a fool’s errand. Go back to drowning in your cups, that is the only thing you excel at, yes?”
Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and went deeper into the caves. No doubt the pig was a cruel joke at Aemond’s expense. Oh, how he hated their stupid games.
“Aemond?” You called out. “It is me! I sent the rest of them away. Whatever they have done, they are just stupid boys!”
In the dark, with the limited firelight, you caught sight of a flash of yellow. Rushing over, you realized he was by Syrax’s cave.
“Issi ao ēdrure?” You called out, making sure both Onixa and Syrax could hear you approaching. Aemond’s red rimmed eyes shot up to you and you smiled at him. “I do not want to startle them, it is a good rule to never startle a sleeping dragon. Especially Syrax.”
As if beckoned, the yellow dragon arched its neck and glanced down at you two. Her nostrils widened as she sniffed in your direction, huffing when scenting you. Onixa opened a drowsy eye from where her snout was tucked and stretched before falling back asleep. You rolled your eyes at your lazy dragon, no doubt tired from your morning ride, and stepped forward to clasp your hand in Aemond’s. Syrax could be temperamental but she tolerated you and your brothers well enough. You had been the only one she tolerated to ride her alongside your mother as a babe but Jace had been the only one who could be near her for more than a few moments.
“Let us go, Aemond. I will ask the cook to make your favorite,” you said quietly, trying to catch his eye while keeping your back to the cave wall.
His eyes were downturned, in an effort – you knew – to be indifferent. “How is it that your brother’s eggs hatched but mine did not?” His tone was harsh, cruel, but you heard the old wound underneath his words.
“Aemond,” you said sharply, knowing what he was implying. He turned his wide violet eyes at you, apologetic. “Sorry,” he mumbled, regret etched in his expression, “I just-”
“-want a dragon and for your brother and nephews to stop being utter cunts?” You asked, knowing.
Aemond huffed a light laugh, sad, but a laugh nonetheless.
You wanted to strangle your stupid family. Everyone knew how desperately Aemond wanted a dragon and if your brothers, or his, were not taunting him – everyone else was waving aside the issue. He had found no solace in any one aside from you. This mattered to him and you knew it troubled him deeply. Reaching for his other hand, you squeezed them between yours. “I promise, you will get a dragon one day. Onixa is getting old enough to lay a clutch and if she does, I will save you every egg until one hatches. I swear it. You are no less a Targaryen because yours did not hatch. Grandmother says Laena had no dragon until her fifth and tenth nameday. You know of how Onixa chose me. It is up to the Gods and that was not the egg destined for you. I promise.”
The despair in Aemond’s eyes faded, softening into something else that had the knot in your chest tightening. His fingers interlocked with yours, palm against palm and you could not find it within you to look away from his stare.
A distinct rumble to the right had your heart launch itself into your throat. Dreamfyre. Onixa’s eyes opened, a sharp and bright blue – both of you understanding. She stood, loose pebbles falling as she turned towards you, grumbling on her way towards the cave entrance. You placed a hand on her front leg, calmed by the feel of her scales as she herded you towards the exit.
Her nose shoved you forward, knocking you into Aemond’s arms. You glanced up at him, his chest pressed against yours, and his breath seemed to stutter with yours. His eyes darted between yours, hands firm against your waist, and you could not help but carve this moment into your memory.
A disgruntled grumble stirred you. Not wanting to risk either of your lives, you straightened, clearing your throat. “Come on,” you urged Aemond, shooting Onixa a soft look, “Dreamfyre is not fond of anyone.”
A roar came from deeper in the cave and you both ran, his hand tight against yours. You kept your pace quick until the setting sun was visible on the horizon. Catching your breath, you leaned against a boulder.
After a few moments, you turned to each other and grinned. Your heart soared at the sight of the weight lifting from his shoulders. “Come, Arabella said she’d make us those tarts you are fond of,” you offered your hand once more and he took it, without hesitance. You stilled for a moment and used your thumb to trace a line across his palm before tapping it twice. His expression twisted in an effort to show nothing, as always, but you could read the gratitude there.
“My grandmother taught me, it is a Velaryon secret,” you whispered, hidden in a wardrobe in your rooms. Thunder roared outside and your trembling hand was held tightly against Aemond’s. “A line across your palm to draw your defenses and two taps to remember you do not stand alone. It is a secret code, so that you remember you have an ally close by.”
Without another word, you ran down the road towards your horses. Once you were close to them, Aemond pulled on your clasped hands. You glanced at him and he rushed forward, arms going around you. Taken aback, you took a few steps to gather your balance but you wrapped your own arms around him.
He fell silent and your tongue felt heavy. “No matter what anyone says, I think you are better than anyone. With or without a dragon,” you said quietly. His arms tightened around you and you pressed your nose into his neck, your hands tucking themselves up his back.
Untangling yourselves, you both climbed onto your horses. You rode through the castle gates and spotted Ser Hawin in the courtyard, sharpening his sword. He smiled at you as you rode passed.
“I shall see the both of you in the training yard in an hour,” he called out, you beamed at him as he winked.
“You are getting better than me with a sword,” you complained, knowing Aemond would offer to help you and hopefully the training session would take his mind off the cruelty of this afternoon. “Aegon never helps and mother thinks girls should not be training in the yard. Father has tried to talk to her but she only barely tolerates it. It is not fair!”
Aemond animated, as you knew he would. “I will help you!” He offered immediately and you bit back your knowing smile. “It is an easy move and I know you only need to practice. I found a book last week on training strategies that I have been meaning to show you-”
A flash of green in one of the windows caught your eye. You watched it disappear for a moment before you turned back towards Aemond, his hands clasped together – you knew – in an effort to not use them as he spoke. Aegon had teased that out of him too.
“Come, we can sneak in a few desserts before we get to sword fighting,” you said, giggling as he ran with you towards the kitchens. Aemond never said no to you.
“-and then I decided I needed to know the answer right then. My father let me ask my questions but he was a bit hard to keep awake-”
Aemond snorted. “I cannot imagine my mother or father being willing to entertain my questions at the wolf’s hour. Your father’s ability to put up with you is admirable.”
Despite knowing he was teasing, you huffed. “They are important questions!” Your voice was shrill as you clutched the book you had only just found against your chest. “Besides, you tolerate me just the same. I am your favorite.”
“You are everyone’s favorite,” he shrugged, cheeks pink.
Biting back your smile, you opened your book and sat across from him. Entirely too pleased he had not denied it, you fought to keep your eyes off of him.
“Not Aegon’s.”
Aemond’s eye roll was instant and dramatic. “Aegon does not like anything aside from smallfolk girls and Dornish wine.”
You smiled at his words, eyes already trailing across the pages in front of you. “Your mother and grandsire also detest me. Although I am sure they loathe us all and it is not specific to me, I assume.”
At his silence, you glanced up at him and blinked when you found him sheepishly looking at the table. “It is alright, Aemond, I am well aware of your family’s opinions on mine. They have been fighting over my mother’s possible heir since Jace’s birth. My mother says they had fought over her being the king’s heir as well. Father says the Gods are testing us, with strife, but my handmaiden says our houses were not meant to find peace in this life.”
Returning to your book, you only made it a few more sentences before, “It should be you,” he said.
This was not a new argument but it was one you had tired of. “And deny Aegon the chance to rule? I shudder at the thought. I know what you think but I am fairly certain the choices are your brother or mine. The king had no male heirs at that time but my mother does. The realm would not accept two queens, they barely accepted one. Look at what happened to Rhaenys.”
You could see the unspoken words on his expression and you raised one of your brows. “I am in a pleasant mood, Aemond, do not upset me with a comment about my brothers. I do not wish to fight with you.” Aemond was your most cherished friend, one of your favorite people, and while you knew they were not easy to get along with but…they were your brothers. This earth had no bond stronger than that of fire and blood.
“I was not going to!”
Used to the passive comments from Aemond, and the outright aggressive comments from the rest of his family, you let the topic die. The days, you knew, were to get more complicated as the topic of succession was debated. You had no desire in worrying before you needed to. Returning to your book, you were captivated by the tale. After a moment, you heard Aemond clear his throat loudly. “Ember,” he called eventually.
Glancing up at sound of your familiar moniker, you placed a finger as to not lose your place. Helaena had been the first to call you such. “Silver hair, silver crown, only an ember is needed to light a fire. Born of fire and sea, an ember to unite the flames.”
Aegon hated her riddles, as did Luke, but you and Jace were fond of them. Aemond was the only one who would try and decipher them with you.
He stared at you, a strange look on his face as he smiled up at you from where he was sat at the table you had claimed early this morning. “I asked, this frantic need for information came about because…”
“Of my dream!” You sighed, exasperated. Did anyone listen to you? Your father had merely nodded a few times before urging you to seek answers in the library. You had been sitting in your favorite alcove for a few hours before Aemond had found you.
“Of course, the dreams. You sound a bit like Helaena.”
Crossing your arms, you glared at him. “Do not mock me, or her, for that matter.”
“I would never,” he said quickly, tone sincere, “I was merely jesting, I promise.”
Turning back to your book, you turned the page and grinned at the sight of the blue flora you had been studying. “Look,” you said, excitement growing with every word you read, “it is called Dragon’s Bloom. What a lovely color, it rather looks like a sapphire! Oh, they are beautiful. Do you not think so?”
“You always had an affinity for blue,” he said, fingers trailing across the sleeve of your dress, one your grandmother had made for you on your last nameday. The silk was soft and beautiful when you walked in the sunlight.
You inhaled the leather and firewood scent that seemed to follow Aemond and tried to blink away your wayward thoughts. “It is a wonderful color. Oh, look it says it has been used for healing as well!”
At that, Aemond leaned forward to read over your shoulder, curiosity always peaked as he loved books just as you did. You were mortified to hear your stomach loudly announce your hunger to the empty library. Aemond stifled his laughter, not nearly hard enough you thought going by the huff of air hitting your neck, and you raised your head to scowl at him when he shifted.
From under his cloak, he pulled a small neatly wrapped cloth. Some bread and cheese from the kitchens sat in the middle. “Oh, and I know you like these best,” he said. Pulling a bright green apple from his other side, he offered it to you. You felt warm, from the stone in your throat to the tips of your feet.
“Thank you, Aemond,” you said, voice quiet. The brilliant smile that erupted on his face told you he heard you, but then again, he always had. This feeling in your chest that seemed unique to Aemond, one only he could elicit, was not new. It’s frequency, however, was. You would wake in the morrow eager to see him. His presence reassured you when you were nervous about your mothers fighting.
He was the one who seemed to always be content to listen to your ramblings. Aemond was quiet, and carefully chose his words, but he always had some for you. It was strange, this fluttering you had, you knew not what to do with it. Some nights, however, when you were all alone and fighting off sleep – you wondered if he felt it too. The little lightning sparks that ran down your spine when his gaze centered on you.
Shrugging, Aemond pushed the food towards you. “We have spent many days lost in the King’s library together, you never remember to break your fast before throwing yourself into your books.”
You placed your hand over his, Aemond always had cold hands, and watched as his cheeks flushed pink again. “It is nothing,” he said before you could thank him again, “I… it is hardly the first time. You would go the whole day locked in here without thought of yourself.”
You would and had before. In the rare times Aemond wasn’t in a chair – next to you - reading himself, he would find you before supper. He always seemed to know how to find you.
“Thank you,” you said after a moment, his hand still around yours, warmth from your fingers sinking into his. “You always listen to me, no matter how much you tease.”
Aemond’s ears went red. “I like listening to your stories, the history books you seemed to discover here,” he said, quietly, eyes on your clasped hands. You’d learned from Ser Harwin that observing was always a good trait to have. Sometimes…you thought that Aemond could feel similarly as you did and was just as confused about it as you were. But you lacked the courage to ask. “You always give me the most interesting books to read,” his voice brought your mind back into the room.
Heart pounding in your ears, you replied, “You are the only one I like arguing over stories with,” you grinned, remembering your week-long argument last spring over a tale you’d found fascinating. While you had taken immediately to the hero of the story, Aemond empathized with the villain and you had spent most of your meals together arguing over it. Your mother and Aemond’s personal guard were at wit’s end with you both.
Be brave, your mother’s voice told you, always be brave little one.
Interlocking your fingers together, you slowly dragged your thumb down his – the familiar lightning returning. Your eyes flickered up to his face and you found that he was already staring at you. Blinking, surprised, you let your teeth dig into your bottom lip – an anxious habit your Septa was always berating you for.
His grip on you tightened, bringing your palms closer together.
“Ember.”
You swallowed around the nerves that clung to your throat. “Yes?”
Aemond’s eyes fell back down to your hands and an unknown force in your belly roared awake. Your eyes dipped to his mouth. “I-”
“Aemond!”
Both of you sprung apart, as if you had been caught in the midst of something, and you felt your own expression turn flustered. Gathering your books on the table, needing something to do with your hands, you stood as the queen quickly made her way over to where you’d spent the better part of the day.
“Princess,” she said, smile empty. You bowed your head regardless of the inherited resentment within you.
“Your Grace,” you replied, just as stale, returning to your pile of books.
She turned to Aemond, her face softening into something new. “Had we not spoken about the time you spend here?” Her voice carried a command to it, a hidden meaning that you could guess.
Aemond’s expression filled with irritation. “Mother-”
“The maester has let me know you have missed your afternoon lessons,” she huffed, the heat of her stare burning through you.
Aemond stepped forward, his body barely a pace before yours. “It is not her fault,” he said quickly, hard tone surprising you. Aemond was the most obedient and faithful son, it went without saying. Even your own mother liked to reference how well behaved he was and how the three of you could learn from him. He did as she commanded and abided by the rules thus, his constant defense of you had always been a nuisance for the queen. One you suspected she resented you for.
Her shoulders tensed, “Aemond,” she sighed, crease forming between her brows.
Your mother had once made you swear to keep the waters calm, there were enough angry waves without you adding to it.
“You are my firstborn. A princess should uphold certain responsibilities. Lead your brothers by example.”
Consequently, in a rare fashion, you bit your tongue and brought the pile of books to a corner; tucking the one you had been reading to your breast.
“I did not mean to keep him from his studies, Your Grace,” you said quietly, eyes down.
A second pair of eyes burned into your side, ones you normally sought out, but you kept your sight away from his. “She did not know,” he insisted. You could feel his ire at your words, an old argument arising – you could hear it already – within him.
“Why do you fold in front of her? You could argue with a fallen leaf but you quiet when-”
“She is our queen! You are her ever dutiful son, yet you grow angry with me when I follow your example? Is that not what everyone says? Princess Rhaenyra’s wild firstborn, such a shame, a disobedient daughter! Tis one of the reasons my mother allows all this time together. Surely, she hopes your quiet nature will catch.”
“That is untrue,” Aemond frowned, arms crossed. “I like your inability to be tamed – much like…like Grey Ghost. You become dull around my mother, as if the sun has set beyond the horizon before I was ready for night. I have always been quiet but, you - I do not like how quiet you become. It is unnatural.”
“I – I am always quiet!” Aemond’s amused and disbelieving snort started a second argument.
You shook your head at the challenge in his eyes. Hardening your gaze, you watched his own violet eyes roll before turning back to his mother. A few steps behind, they stilled at the doorway, Aemond’s hands clenched as he jolted his head from her fingers. Strands of his silver hair fell into his eyes, his tie loosening more as he shifted.
“No, Mother, we have discussed this before-”
Alicent brushed a hand across his forehead, tucking the hair behind his ears.
“We really need to cut your hair,” Alicent fretted, ignoring his protesting words. You passed them both, brushing Aemond’s clenched hand as you bowed to them both.
Despite your formality around the queen, as your father liked to remind her, you were still your mother’s daughter – a quip that never failed to bring a smile to her face.
“You must not blame her; she is born of Sea and Fire. Forces too wild to hope a young girl could tame them.”
You brought your own hand up to his temple, fingers barely grazing his hair. Forefinger tracing a line down his cheek, the lightning storm left sparks in its trail. “I do not know, I think he looks quite handsome with it longer,” you said, biting your cheek to keep from smiling at Aemond’s red face. His glare held no fire but you knew he loathed how you easily flustered him.
The Queen frowned. “Princess-”
“Your Grace,” you said through your teeth, barely bowing your head before taking off down the hall and towards your father’s quarters.
No doubt your parents would be notified of your improper behavior and would have words with you at supper. You grinned, imagining your brothers’ laughter.
The morning of your third and tenth nameday, you found yourself being shaken awake by your younger brother. “What do you want?” You groaned, ignoring Luke’s prying fingers, and flipping onto your stomach. Burying your face into the pillow, you tried to ignore Luke’s high voice. His belt bit into your arm but you ignored it to cling to your sleep.
“Ember!” He shouted, huffing and throwing himself onto your back.
“It is my nameday, do I not get some peace?” You asked him. “The sun has yet to fully rise, Luke!”
Your brother, however, was paying your despair no mind. “You are not listening to me!” He cried out. “I cannot find Jace or father! I do not know who else to ask!”
Sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “About what? Are you hurt?” You asked, hand coming out to his arm. He curled into your embrace, like a kitten searching for warmth.
“Grandsire summoned her and mother said she would return shortly. When I followed her, she went into the council room!” Luke said, little chest heaving like he’d run all the way to your room. “I heard them talking about you!”
“Me?” You mumbled, his words awakening you quickly. “What did I do?”
“I do not know!” His big wide eyes were worried and it was catching.
Moving him off you, you rang the bell near your bed and Lyra came bustling in. “It is quite early for you, princess. Did you want to start your nameday with your favorite – oh, my prince! I was not aware you were here,” she bowed and you waved at her.
“We must be swift! Fetch me my morning dress please. Luke, go wait for me out in the corridor, I will be ready in a few minutes.”
Used to your antics, Lyra simply moved to your wardrobe and pulled out your favorite dress. The black cloak you were meant to wear was thrown onto your bed. Within moments she had your hair braided down your back and the dress laced. “I will bring this to you later, when you are ready to go riding. Go on,” she nudged you towards the door, “oh, congratulations on your nameday, princess.”
You grinned at her before hurrying out the door. Not two beats had passed before a familiar hand grabbed yours and pulled. “Gods, do I not get a moment?”
“We’ve already missed so much!” He exclaimed, keeping his feet quiet and quick as you both made your way towards the king’s small council room. The corridor was empty, the guards on either side of the northern door turned towards the sound of your feet but shook their heads when it became apparent who was running.
Coming to a skidding stop at the eastern door, Luke pressed his ear against the wood and you sighed. “Are you really-”
“Sh!” He hissed, pressing his ear even firmer against the door.
With another sigh, you pressed your own ear to the old wood. Surprisingly, the voices inside carried clearly.
“This matter was to be discussed on the princess’ six and tenth nameday, I do not see why we must discuss this now,” your mother’s voice rang, frustration evident.
“The eldest two princes, and princess,” Alicent’s voice dripped in annoyance at your mention, “are reaching maturity. It is imperative that the line of succession is settled.”
A voice you could not place spoke faintly. “As the king’s firstborn son-”
“The matter of my position as heir to the throne is not up for discussion Lord Beesbury.”
“We should let the Master of Coin speak,” Alicent urged.
Luke scrunched his nose, a mirror of your own and you reached for his hand.
“I was simply suggesting, that Prince Aegon follow Princess Rhaenyra.”
A cacophony of voices descended at once, your mother’s the loudest. “And why is it that my succession is currently being put into question?” She asked. “I am the heir and he is my firstborn son.”
“Prince Jacaerys is flippant, shows no signs of maturity, taking after his sister from what we saw in the training yard when she attacked Aegon,” a voice said, and you swallowed around the lump in your throat. Your hands clenched into fists and Luke tightened his grip on you.
You had not attacked Aegon. Your grandsire had requested your presence during their training session yesterday afternoon. Ser Cole, the idiot, had clear favoritism towards your uncles. You were not going to let one of your brothers fall hurt due to his incompetence. So, Aegon had gone after Jace and you had merely out maneuvered him. Was it your fault he was embarrassed at having been beat by a girl? Mayhaps it was Ser Harwin’s words of encouragement.
“Ah, yes,” your mother’s voice rang out clearly, “but Aegon is a great example of maturity. Let us ask the servants in the kitchens how they feel about his wandering ha-”
“Enough!” The king commanded, silence following. It bounced around in your chest, echoing in your mind. “I am grateful for the council and their worries but my decision stands.”
“Your decision?” Otto’s voice dripped in hesitation.
“My heir was named years ago, my firstborn Princess Rhaenyra-”
“-your only child at the time, Your Grace.”
“I am well aware,” you winced at the ire in his voice, “and while her succession is not in question here, I shall remind everyone sat in this room that my decision was final. Rhaenyra came to me, moons ago, and presented a solution that I believe is well-spirited.”
Luke’s eyes widened and your breath stuttered. A new solution? Did Jace know? Your stomach clenched, nerves soaring with every moment that passed. Not Aegon, surely not Aegon. Your mother would not have accepted Aegon to keep her own place in line to the throne.
Your mother’s voice rang out. “In hopes that this appease some of the court, I name my daughter – my firstborn - as my heir. Considering that her parentage has never been called into question.” Your chest gave in, caving into your ribs as your limbs went numb. Luke’s stare was one of surprise, his mouth falling open.
“In good faith, I propose a betrothal between our firstborns. Aegon would be named King Consort. I also offer up an egg from Syrax’s clutch, for Prince Aemond. It is not a secret that our houses have had…tension, but we were a family, once. I would like for us to be so again. I understand that my sons are not amendable for certain members of the court. My daughter is a brilliant young lady, now three and ten, she will continue her lessons and I can assure the council that she will be fit to rule.”
“A brilliant solution, one I heartily support,” your grandsire said, tone made of steel. A tone you recognized. One that meant there was no argument to be heard.
Sound waned as your pulse pounded in your ears. You? Queen to the Seven Kingdoms? It was meant to be Jace. Not you – you were not – you were a girl… you knew nothing of ruling. You did not want to rule! Jace had dreamed of it since he was a babe. And marriage? You didn’t want to marry! No. No, not…not Aegon! Bile bit at the back of your throat and you ripped your arm from Luke’s hand. Without thought, you ran.
“Ember!” Luke shouted, his feet following yours. Your blood felt as if you were on fire, your head stuck underwater. Quickly, you ran up the stairs near the eastern wing, opened a few doors and gasped for air when you reached the Maesters’ small garden. Maester Gerardys had taught you once, when you were younger, about the healing properties of some of the plants.
“These, they are sturdy and must be shaken ever so often,” Gerardys said, hair draping his cheek as he smacked one of the large leaves growing from the corner. You giggled; eyes wide as he pointed out the spots on another. “Come close, Princess, look at the color on these-”
Closing the doors carefully behind you, the small alcove in the far back corner held a few padded cushions and a bench. You sat, dust flying upward when you did, and tried to calm your racing heart. Without prompting, hot tears spilled down your cheeks.
Sobs wretched from your throat unbidden. You imagined Jace’s expression, your heart sinking further. Aegon’s smirk floated to the front of your mind, his wandering eyes and cruel hands. You knew what they said about him – what they whispered. Marrying you to him would be your biggest punishment, you would not survive it. Seven Hells, you would need to bear him children. Heirs. Tears falling faster, you curled into yourself, skin scraping against the rough stone. Closing your eyes, you willed the world around you to disappear.
Please, you prayed to the Maiden with your hands clasped. Please, save me.
The muscles in your shoulders ached when your eyes opened. Blinking away the soreness, you uncurled yourself from the dark corner you found yourself in. The darkening sky told you that you had been hidden for much longer than you’d meant to. The hour of the bat was upon you.
Yet, you still refused to move. You glanced at the faint yellow among the horizon, most of the stars already shining down on the Red Keep. What will be of your future now? Was this to be your kingdom? How could you rule when you barely got your brothers to listen to you? Surely, they wanted someone on the throne who would truly desire it? Who deserved it?
The sound of the far door opening had you retreating deeper into the alcove. You expected to see a royal guard but caught sight of a familiar silver head. Surprised, your foot slipped from its perch and the sound echoed in the silence of the garden.
“Ember?” Aemond called out, voice shaking. “Ember, it’s just me! I swear it!”
Unable to ignore his call, you stepped off the bench and into the moonlight. His eyes locked on yours and his chest heaved a relieved sigh.
“Are you alright?” He asked, panicked, rushing towards you. Without warning, you ran towards his open arms and tucked your nose into his neck. His scent surrounded you, easing your pulse back to normal. His arms were warm, his leathers worn and soft, as they wrapped around your back. “Are you hurt? The entire castle is out searching for you! Your mother is…I have never seen her like this. Where have you been? Why are you hiding here?”
“How did you find me?” You asked, tears soaking his tunic collar.
Aemond sighed, his arms tightening. “You told me once, about your afternoon spent here with Dragonstone’s maester. He said not many knew about the garden, even less were permitted in. Your father and mother were worried you had fallen off Onixa during your morning ride. Onixa has been unsettled all day, the dragon keepers could not get her to-”
“They think I am dead?” You asked, shocked that Luke had not mentioned what he’d heard. “Where are my brothers?”
“Searching with Lord Corlys,” he replied. Silence settled once more, your nose bumping into his jaw as you stepped away. “Will you tell me what has occurred? Helaena’s…been in a fit all day. I was worried.”
“What is she saying?” You asked, eyes darting back to his.
Aemond hesitated, his purple gaze questioning. “Silver hair, silver crown, voyage to home, dragon’s blood reunited long last. A deal accepted, pieces move once more,” he said.
Silver hair, silver crown.
Shivering, you wrapped your arms around yourself and let Aemond guide you back towards the alcove. His green cloak settled around your shoulders, his scent and warmth surrounding you. Curling your hands into the soft velvet, you dug your nose into its collar.
“Ember…”
You did not want to say the words, not aloud. A faint breeze pushed the hair from your eyes and you sighed. “The king has named me my mother’s heir,” you said, words lost to the wind.
Aemond stilled, his fingers latching to your arm in surprise. “They have settled it then? You are first in line?”
“Second, after my mother. But, yes.”
Silence persisted for a moment. “Surely you must have known it was a possibility?” Aemond asked gently, his voice quiet. “It was always a choice between all of us, our children, it was all mother talked about.”
Pressure in your eyes let you know that you were not yet finished with your tears. “That is not all,” you said, teeth sinking painfully into your lip.
“What? What else has been decided?”
Decided for you, against your wishes. “I have been betrothed to Aegon.”
“What?” He said, eyes flashing as he stood from the bench in an instant, cushion falling to the floor. “To my brother?”
Nodding miserably, you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep from weeping.
“Ember, are you certain?”
Of course you were. The queen might have rejected the notion but surely Otto would not let this opportunity pass them. “Yes, Luke and I – we heard them with the council,” your breath stuttered through your tears, “my mother offered a betrothal between us to please the queen and the Hand. Both their children on the throne. I believe it to be an offer to soothe the sting of the king picking my mother over Aegon. A way to unite our houses.”
“He always gets everything,” Aemond whispered, tone bitter. “Of course.”
A surge of courage crashed within you. “I will not do it,” you said suddenly, tears falling despite your own battle, “I cannot marry him. Not Aegon. Anyone but Aegon.”
The image of your wedding feast came to mind. The jewels, you knew, your mother had stored in the vaults beneath the boards that had been her mother’s – ones she would bestow you with. Aegon’s twisted sneer and tight grip. Aemond’s face eclipsed the vision, pulling you back to the present, and his hands hesitated before wiping the tears that had started once more.
The wave of grief within you crashed against your heart, like a ship stuck in a storm. “I do not want to have his children,” you said, pathetically, knowing you’d have to try despite your wishes. Duty demanded.
Aemond’s expression tightened further, his eyes stormy. “We can run away, get on Onixa and fly far away where no one can find us,” Aemond said eventually, a weak attempt – you knew – at getting you to cease crying. “To an island with green apples,” he whispered, pulling you against him, “no thrones, no duties, just books and the sea.”
You closed your eyes, trying to imagine the sound of the sea. “Promise?” You asked, wishing it with all your heart.
Aemond smiled sadly, knowing just as well as you that everything would change now. “I promise, princess.”
The warm sun and bright ocean were overrun by the reminder. Silver hair, silver crown. “Jace was the one who thought – we all thought…oh he will hate me,” you turned your eyes to him, and Aemond shook his head.
“We might not get along, but it is plain to anyone who watches that your brothers care for you,” he said, envy laced in his words. “Where one goes, the others follow.”
Dread weighed you down. “He cannot follow where I will go, not where I will be asked to go. I have taken this away from him.”
“You cannot take something that is rightfully yours,” Aemond insisted and you knew there was no making him understand.
Fingers digging into his wrist, you shook your head. “It is another…thing, Aemond. Another reason to set me apart from them. It was never said but it was implied, Jace wanted it.”
His brows furrowed as you started to curl your shoulders, wanting to ball up and forget today ever happened. “Explain it to me,” he asked, surprising you.
Fresh tears spilled down your face. “I may act like nothing is wrong but I hear it. We all do. I hear the whispers and the comments people make when they believe us to be ignorant of it. The way my father’s family favors me. The way your mother and grandsire tolerate me at most but my brothers barely get a glance in their direction,” Aemond shifted but you waved away his discomfort, “even worse, how your mother loathes that she cannot use me as a weapon to hurt my mother.”
You wrung your hands together, tasting blood.
“The way eyes linger on my hair. The color they all covet and revere when all I want, all I have ever wanted, is to look just like them. I love them Aemond, I love my brothers so much my heart feels like it could burst. I never believed the tales of love at first glance but when they placed them as babes in my arms, I knew I was to protect them. Luke, he is too young, he has not yet learned to listen to the whispers. Jace, he – he fights with it and it is not his fault. None of this is our fault but they are the cards we have been dealt. With him being the firstborn son, he might not have silver hair but he thirsts to prove himself. And now…I have taken that chance from him. The chance for him to belong. And I cannot forgive myself for it.”
Aemond’s hand covered the one you had gripped in his, and he nodded. “I understand,” he sighed, “but what is there for you to do? Once father has decided on something…”
You wanted to rip your hair out, you wanted to find Onixa and fly out to the eastern cities and never return. You wanted Jace to sit on the throne. You most certainly did not want to marry Aegon. The fact that your status in the family was firstborn princess was not lost on you, you knew you would be asked to marry for alliances. But you thought you would at least have a choice and a small part had wished you would marry for love. Or fondness. Anything but the barely contained disdain you had for Aegon. Gods, the way witnessed him treat some of the servants. You closed your eyes and groaned.
“What are the chances I only need to give your brother one heir before he leaves me alone? After the bedding ceremony… I could move to Dragonstone. Jace surely would come with me, he cannot stay angry with me forever, could he?” Your first attempt at a laugh fell limp between the two of you but you felt your descent into madness approaching.
Aemond’s eyes shifted, his head ducking down as the stars mocked you. “What if you talked to them about a different betrothal?”
The thought of that barely moved you. “I doubt your grandsire would allow it, not now,” you sighed.
“He might if you were betrothed to me,” he said, voice wavering when you snapped your neck to look at him. He met your stare, eyes searching yours but his pink ears gave him away. “Would…would that make you less despondent?”
A small seed of hope burrowed its way into your chest, making a home of your racing heart. “Less despondent? Aemond, I would be – I would be happy! So happy. You are my dearest friend but, do you think they would allow it? You are…a second son,” you whispered the last few words, knowing he despised that particular title; but you needed to be sure before you approached your mother with the topic.
“Mother and my grandsire should like someone from our family on the throne, I would think it matters not which one of us. I am better suited for ruling than Aegon, he has no desire to be king as much as it upsets mother. I am sure Aegon would be willing to champion for our cause.”
“But, Aemond, I do not want to rule! What do I know of ruling seven kingdoms? It would be a hard life. You would be King Consort – I would still be lost and we would need to produce heirs. You would be forfeiting your own chance at a love match or at least a powerful alliance. I do not know if I could ask that of you.”
The garden seemed to light with his smile. “You are not asking, I am offering. We would be able to do it together. Even if…even if they do not accept our terms and you are married to Aegon. I would never leave your side. I could be Hand of the Queen or Commander of the Citywatch. I would counsel you for as long as you’d want me there. My loyalty is not so easily tried.”
The hope dug it’s claws deep, your problems falling to the side as the pounding in your heart echoed so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Aemond I – I have no words.” With a soft look, and a small amount of bravery, you laid your forehead against his. Aemond’s grip tightened impossibly but you closed your eyes in an effort to keep your emotions at bay.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “I would not like to be parted from you – even in marriage to another. I…I would like very much to be married to you, if our mothers allow it.”
You heard, and felt, his hard inhale. “You needn’t worry, dragons could not drag me from your side,” he answered, breath tickling your cheek. With another bout of courage, you opened your eyes and bumped your nose with his own. His stare calmed something wild within you, a welcome feeling at present. The lightning cloud beneath your skin rumbled as you watched his eyes dip lower.
Just as your eyes slipped closed once more, the sound of doors opening pierced the air. Jerking backwards, you instinctively leaned back into the shadows.
“Princess?” Ser Marbrand’s voice echoed in the empty space and your sigh was pained.
Aemond smiled at you, eyes clear. “Have strength,” he murmured as you stood.
“You have found me Ser Marbrand,” you said, stepping out from the alcove, “I thought not many knew of this garden.”
Ser Marbrand heaved a relieved sigh. “Princess, your mother is only a stepstone away from taking to the skies with Syrax. Princess Rhaenys has already declared to arrive shortly. The king is beside himself. Are you alright? Have you been harmed?”
“I’m fine,” you said, straightening your shoulders. “Take me to my mother Ser Marband, at once.”
His eyes betrayed his confusion but bowed his head and extended his arm. “Of course, my princess.” You glanced back, over your shoulder, and watched Aemond as he followed. His eyes held yours, a nod cementing the weak courage stewing in your stomach.
You had barely stepped through the doors to her chambers when your mother’s arms pulled you tightly to her. “Where have you been? Gods be good you will be the death of me!” She said, her lips coming to your forehead. The fear that had griped your soul so defiantly melted under her attention.
You may not have been meant to rule, but you may still yet learn.
“This is absurd,” you muttered, eyes latched onto your mother’s retreating figure. She placed a hand on Ser Harwin’s shoulder, a shared look between them, before she disappeared through the doors.
The boys echoed your words, each of them talking over the other. “Boys,” Harwin said, crouching down to speak with them. Inaudible, the words were lost to the room as you settled deeper into the chair you sulked in.
For the past week, you had refused to do much other than eat and sleep. Aemond and Helaena had tried, with little success, to lure you out of your chambers.
Your mother had wasted no time of the day, parchments filled to every inch of their abilities, detailing every moment of your education. There were things you now needed to know, a tutor in High Valyrian, books on philosophy, battle strategies, and certainly there would be no room for any sword training. High born ladies did not train, especially not ones that were heirs to the throne. Not that you had a teacher anymore.
“Mother, I will do the best I can, I swear it but please – please. I beg of you, do not betroth me to Aegon.”
“Byka perzys-”
“Please! I have a proposal, one that may seem odd but it may be satisfactory to the Queen. A betrothal to-”
“She has rejected the offer of a betrothal,” your mother said, speaking over you, her small smile growing larger. “I did not offer that up lightly, I promise you. I was going to speak with you over your morning meal but you were not to be found anywhere.”
Sheepish, you dropped your eyes to your fingers. Your mother had been close to inconsolable that night. “Does that mean my position in the line of succession has also been protested?”
“No,” she said, huffing laughter, “your grandsire has declared you my heir, with or without the betrothal. I was trying to garner peace, byka perzys. It will be something you understand in due time.”
You were brought out of your memories at the sound of shuffling feet. Harwin approached you, a small smile at the corner of his lips. “Your Grace,” he teased, dipping his head.
And yet, you refused to yield. “I am thrown onto a throne I do not want and one of my allies is being taken from King’s Landing?” You fought the tears in your eyes. Harwin had been by your family’s side since your birth. You had yet to know of your life here without his faithful presence.
“I will see you again,” he said, cupping your hands as he always did. “Listen to me. You are your mother’s daughter. You are fearsome and you have a kind heart. The kingdom will prosper under your rule one day.”
“But I do not know-”
His dark hair shook as he ducked to your eyesight. “What you do not know, you will learn. Your fear is not unfounded but it is the fear itself that makes you fit to rule. Those who do not want it, deserve it.”
As it always did, his belief in you drew your shoulders straight. You nodded, tears falling. He wiped them and smiled sadly down at you. “Oh, little princess, you will grow to be a most fearsome thing to behold,” you jumped into his embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and he laughed, “protect your brothers, watch over them. They will need you, as you them.”
“When I am queen, I shall order your return,” you mumbled into his shoulder, “you cannot rid yourself of me.”
His laughter rumbled through your body. “I do not want to be rid of you, Princess. I eagerly await your letters,” with a glance around the room, he pressed a kiss to your crown. “Remember to be brave. Have courage.”
Forcing the stone in your stomach aside as he stepped out the doors, you sat in the window seat. You knew your Septa would not come looking for you, not today. Tucking your knees into your chest, you leaned against the stone pillar, eyes on the grounds below.
You did not know how long you laid there, hidden away, until your mother stormed back into her chambers. “There you are,” she said, exhaustion etched into her skin. You sat up hastily, smoothing your skirts.
Nerves awakening at the familiar sight of the stubborn set of her brow. “What is wrong? What has happened?” You asked, heart in your throat.
“We must speak,” she said, settling into the seat next to you, “I do not want you to feel as if I keep things from you.”
You knew she did, she always would, but you did not resent her for it.
“Your father and I made a decision a few days past,” she inhaled, “we are making preparations to leave King’s Landing. I tell you before your brothers so you may make peace with this.”
Make peace? Your thoughts swirled threatening to choke you. “Leaving?” You exclaimed, “leaving to where? For how long? I thought – my lessons were to start soon.” The panic in your voice could not be hidden, your mother turning at the sound of it.
“Byka perzys,” you stilled, voice quieting, and she glanced around the room, “we are no longer welcome here. We leave for Dragonstone at first light the day after tomorrow.”
“But…the Red Keep is all I have known,” you stumbled over your words, the realization that you would be leaving without knowing when you would be back, “you always said that leaving court would allow the queen-”
“Things have changed,” she interrupted, “and not in our favor. Do you trust me, my sweet?” Your mother’s palms came to your face, her thumbs sweeping under your eyes.
“Yes, mother,” you said, without any hesitation. She may keep things from you, she may lie – but you would never doubt her.
Her eyes softened, her lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I am so sorry but, this will be a new adventure. You will one day be Crown Princess of Dragonstone. Learning of it will aid you, it is beautiful and you will find it easy to make our home. I swear this to you.”
You nodded, eyes on your tangled fingers. “May I leave?” You asked. “I should like to walk in the gardens.”
A swift nod, and gentle smile, had you up and out the doors within moments. Eyes glazed, no true direction in mind, you found yourself near your father’s quarters. With a knock, you entered the large dark room. Unsurprised, you nodded at Qarl who bowed upon seeing you. His smile dimmed at the sight of your unshed tears. “I will…fetch us something to drink,” he said quietly, crossing the room and making himself scarce.
While you found yourself partial to Harwin, Ser Qarl had never shown you anything but kindness. Most memorably, he had once gifted you a large ruby that your father had molded into a necklace.
“What brings you – oh, Ember,” his voice softened at the way your face crumpled, “come.” With a few steps, you were tucked in his arms.
“Am I being punished for going missing?” You asked between stuttering breaths. “I promise to be a better student, I was only scared-”
With a soft sigh, your father shook his head. “Your mother is not punishing you; we are not punishing you,” he added with a lopsided smile. “You have been chosen, whether you want it or not, to rule the Seven Kingdoms. There are some things that you must know, must learn, to play this game.”
“I do not want to play it,” you said, stubbornly, “I did not ask for this.”
“I know,” he tightened his grip on your hands, “believe me, I understand.” With a sad glance in your direction, you were struck with the knowledge that your father was an unwilling pawn. Born into a house, firstborn son, with the weight of family and duty. Your eyes wandered to the table, where some of your father’s belongings were being packed away.
The relationship between you both was tenuous at times. The world seemed to see your quick temper and wild blood, and saw a reflection of your mother. But standing here, in your father’s arms, you seemed to realize his blood also ran through you. Steady, stubborn, and swaying like the sea. Two people who desired freedom that would always be a step out of reach.
He sighed, his breath smelling of ale, and you blinked away your tears. “I know you did not want this. Your brother…he will learn to accept it. The realm may be slow to become accustomed to a queen and there will be strife. But it will learn, as will you. Your mother may seem secretive at times but she guards nothing more fiercely than the four of you.”
A thought came to your mind, one you had wanted to ask the maester. “Ser Harwin told me once, that mother and the queen were friends in their girlhood,” you said, treading lightly, “but, looking at them now…I could never imagine how.”
Smiling, a faded look grew in your father’s eyes, as if he were lost in a memory. “They were quite inseparable as girls. The queen once gave her favor to Prince Daemon, the day your Uncle Baelon was born.”
You could scarcely picture it. “Aemond and Helaena, they are my dear friends. What if this distance causes history to repeat itself?” You asked, lip bloodied from your sharp teeth. “How will my reign be any different?”
“Children are meant to learn from the mistakes those that came before them have made. That is why you are important,” his gaze turned fond, “it will be different. You care so much. I am sorry to say you have inherited your bleeding heart from me. Departing to Dragonstone is important to your mother and we must support her. Her reign is a ship on the horizon and while naming you her heir was the right decision for all, it was not easy.”
“Then why not leave Jace first in line-”
His hands turned to steel. “You know why,” he said quietly, voice firm, “I love you all, equally. You are all my children and you all will carry my name into history. But you, my firstborn, were chosen to bear this weight. I would...I would change it if I could. I would give you the freedom you ache for, the life you would choose. But that is not what the Gods wanted for us.”
The storm outside hit the stone sharply, the wind whipping against its cage. “It is not fair,” you said quietly, sounding like an echo for all the times you have said it, “the Gods are cruel.”
His exhale was harsh, a soft sound in the silence of the room. “You will be of age soon, Ember, and the upcoming years will be difficult. The storm will try to sink your ship. Friendships are important but duty to your family must always come first. You will need to choose your battles; choose what side you stand on. Your mother will need your counsel now,” he kissed your forehead, “heavy is the head that carries the crown.”
You nodded miserably. Despite what you sprouted to anyone who would listen, you knew your place. You always had. “Can I be excused? I would like to find Aemond.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
Unsure of where to turn to, where to start your search, you started towards Helaena’s chambers. Not ten paces from your father’s door, something hard slammed into you.
“Apologies!” The panicked voice said, hands steadying your footing. You blinked at Aemond’s frantic expression and your heart pounded. “Ember.”
Closing your eyes, you could hear it in his voice. It took only a word to see that he knew.
“I didn’t know until today,” you said, voice shaking. Aemond frowned, his arms tucking themselves behind his back. “I was coming to find you and Helaena. I- promise you’ll write to me?”
“What a ridiculous question,” his jest failed to make you smile. “A raven shall be carrying my first letter before your ship has even set sail for Dragonstone.” The furious rain lashing outside faded as his hand took yours, as he had a thousand times before, and dragged his fingers down your palm, tapping twice. The gesture nearly brought tears back to your eyes but you swallowed them down.
“I have something for you,” he said, his stare turning bashful, “it was meant for your nameday dinner but it will do well as a parting gift.”
Numb fingers dug at the ribbon tied around the small pouch he placed in your hand. With an inquisitive glance towards him, you smiled at the nervous twitch of his cheek. “Oh, Aemond,” you inhaled sharply, the golden necklace spilling into your hand. The chain was long and intricate; at the end a pendant, a small carving of a flower.
“Do you remember the book on flora you needed to find after that dream you’d had months ago?”
Nodding, you tried to remember it’s cover. “Faintly.”
Aemond smiled, amused with your wavering response. “I found it again, a few moons ago, and read through it. That is a primrose. It symbolizes…new beginnings,” he cleared his throat, “it is the first flower that blooms in the spring. It reminded me of you.”
Pulling the chain over your head, you let it fall to your chest and ignored the pang in your ribcage.
Heavy is the head that carries the crown.
Biting back your tears, and burying the ache in your heart deep inside, you clasped your hand into his. “I shall cherish it forever. Thank you, Aemond,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek and ignored the flutter in your belly. “Come, let us search for Helaena. I promised her that I would help her release her newest spider and we have not much time.”
The sky was a clear, bright blue. A fortuitous sign, your mother had declared. You would arrive to Dragonstone on dragonback, stopping midway for a rest – as neither you nor Jace had ever flown that far. Your father would follow by ship with your two youngest brothers, something Luke had yet to stop complaining of. The sharp sound of stone crumbling behind you, jolted you from your tumultuous mind. Jumping at the sight of the nearing man, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Rytsas,” you muttered to the young dragon keeper, his skin turning a deep red as he bowed.
“Dārilaros,” he greeted, “the princess’ carriage should arrive soon. We will bring Onixa and Vermax to prepare them.”
“Kirimvose.”
Fingers finding the small flower around your neck, you ran your thumb over its ridges – a calming notion you’d taken to in the last day. Smiling, you were glad to have a piece of him to bring along with you. “If you are so easily impressed with a trinket of that size, what will your future suitors think? I will need to keep a close eye on you when the time comes.” A voice called out, scaring you for the second time this morning.
You whirled around and came face to face with your brother. Jace smiled at you, his brown hair fluttering with the breeze. “Jace,” you exhaled, heart in your throat. While neither of you had explicitly avoided the other, with the chaos of the last week, you had not had enough time to speak to him.
“I am sorry,” you said, voice small and quiet. Shoulders curling into themselves, your eyes dropped to your boots – nerves swirling unpleasantly in your stomach. “I did not know, Jace, I swear it.”
A warm hand had you raising your gaze, meeting an understanding one. “I know. You are not too hard to read, sister. Your temper may rival a dragon’s but you are not cruel.”
Not able to help yourself, you pulled him into your arms, hand going to the back of his head. “I am so sorry. I do not want it, I- I know not how to do this.”
His hands griped your back tightly, his chin on your shoulder. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Ember,” he said, his voice unwavering. “We are a family. You are my sister. No matter…no matter who our fathers are.”
Releasing him instantly, you could not keep your strangled gasp within you. “Jace!” You glanced around you. “You cannot say such things!”
He shook his head, fingers digging into your shoulders. “We are Targaryens and we will be united beyond life or crowns. The Stranger cannot separate us, nor can something as simple as parentage.”
Your heart tightened in your chest, affection doubling in size for your eldest brother. “There is nothing simple about it,” you whispered, words lost to the wind. “Do you not hate me then? For taking what was yours?”
The small sincere smile that grew appeased the knots in your belly. “You did not take it. It is your birthright. I had hoped, I admit, but it would not mean that I would scorn you for it. I will always be by your side, sister. I will help you with your lessons, we will train together, with Luke. I will teach you what the maesters have taught me.” You both glanced towards the caves at the sound of a disgruntled roar. “Dragonstone is to be yours one day, as Driftmark will be mine. I could never hate you. We are not the greens, we know better – we must be better. For mother’s reign, and yours.”
Eyes going back to the horizon, you pictured Aemond in the library, in your favorite corner – reading the books you had left aside for him. You thought of the queen’s pleased expression, her castle returned to her at last. Of Aegon’s bottle sickness, no doubt, after last night’s dinner. The cruel words he could spew, Helaena shuddering at them. Of Otto and his lack of affection for his family, all pawns in a game.
No, you were not like them. You had love for your brothers, as they did for you, and you would not let your mother struggle in vain.
“Are you implying that you would like to be united in the Targaryen ways of old? The way the Queen would like Aegon and Helaena together?” Jace retched and you knocked his shoulder, your laugher bouncing off the stone caves.
Horse hooves alerted you both to your mother’s arrival. Jace smiled up at you, brows raised. “I am going to check on Vermax, will you be alright?”
No. “Of course,” you said, tone as even as you could muster. The knowing smile Jace sent your way let you know it had not been as convincing as you had hoped. Without delay, you climbed the steps down to greet your mother as she exited the carriage.
“Byka perzys.” She said on an exhale, relief coloring the edges of the endearment. “You and your brother arrived early.”
The wind was determined to whip your hair out of its braid, the strands nearly blinding you for a moment. Before you could tuck it back into place, another hand had already pinned the offending hair back. Her gaze was piercing, her other hand dropping onto your shoulder, and you straightened. “I am so sorry, I wish I could do better,” she whispered, her eyes closing as her forehead came down to rest against yours. Love for her, despite it all, ebbed from you.
“There is no need, mother,” you let your own eyes close, breathing in the scent of dragon, rose water, and smoke. At the sound of a familiar roar, you both glanced towards the cave opening. Onixa’s deep blue scales glinting off the sunlight, her green underbelly brilliant. Her eyes locked onto you instantly and the tether between you two stood at attention.
Before you could step towards her, the grip on your arm tightened. “I have not seen this adornment before, is it from your grandsire? He had asked his valet to package a gift you.”
You thought of the elaborate head piece Lyra had brought to you the evening prior – a stunning piece that would draw awe from any eye that beheld it. The letter he had written, however, had caused tears to burn in your eyes. It had previously belonged to your grandmother, Queen Aemma. Made of Valyrian steel, sapphires decorated it in its entirety. The center piece would have been ostentatious if not for the metalwork.
I am told your favorite color is blue, like Onixa. Aemma had always told me that sapphires represented hope, loyalty, and strength. She wore it often when holding court, despite the displeasure of her handmaidens, as it was not a commonly used color all those years ago. Yet, she wore it at every appearance. She found it beautiful, and a helpful reminder that hope was always near. She would jest that she drew strength from it. I would not have parted with it to anyone less worthy. My hope is that in moments of weakness and in need of guidance that you, too, may draw strength and hope from it.
“No, his gift is safely on the ship with Lyra,” you replied, hand coming back up to the small flower.
Your mother’s gaze kept your next words frozen on your tongue. She pressed her fingers into the center of the pendant and glanced back up at you. “Do you know what it is?”
“He said it was a primrose, the first flower that blooms in spring. New beginnings, I believe,” you said on a deep exhale, eyes searching hers. With a small twist of her lips, you watched the quiet understanding bloom in her stare. “Aemond gave it to me, a nameday gift,” you said, her gaze softening, tucking the necklace into your riding leathers for you. When she met your stare, you knew that she would not share her thoughts with you. Turning your eyes back to an impatient Onixa, you let her have her secrets.
The wind ruffled her own hair, both silver and golden in the sunlight. “What a lovely gift,” she said, eventually, her lips twisting into a ghost of a smile.
A second and third roar joined Onixa’s disgruntled grumbling. “Syrax,” your mother called, her yellow dragon nudging yours out her way to draw closer. Vermax approached slowly, Jace already in his saddle. Your mother smiled up at Syrax, turned to you both and nodded. “Come now, let us start our journey home.”
The few times you had truly interacted with the king, he had always marveled at the likeness to his daughter.
“There can be no doubt that she, is her mother’s daughter. As that temper is not Velaryon born.”
The queen would stay quiet, as she mostly did in your presence, but the weight of disapproval dipped in her stare. You used to feel it on you, at dinners and celebrations. It followed, as Aemond and Helaena walked with you.
Your septa in the Rep Keep had attempted to make your unruliness yield to her, but she had allowed it to exist in relative peace. The maesters at Dragonstone were not as willing. Gerardys had shown his hand too easily, his leniency on you an unmissed topic amongst the other maesters.
Despite your newfound patience, you found your fingers unable to still. Joffrey’s septa kept a close eye on him but the sounds of his feet echoing in the silence of the hall was driving you to madness. How was it possible that all of you were obligated to greet the incoming guests but you had been strictly forbidden from waiting at the docks.
“How long does it take to dock a bloody ship?” You hissed, finally, unable to keep your frustration from bubbling.
Your voice broke the silence, Joffrey giggling at the guards’ muffled laughter. “Such language from the future queen,” Jace teased, laughter evident in his voice. You rolled your eyes and huffed at him but the ease between the two of you had long returned. He had promptly joined in on what he was calling ‘queen lessons,’ and seemed to like to watch you flounder.
Turning towards him, scathing retort on your tongue - “We are here for our aunt’s funeral,” Luke hissed, ever the voice of reason between you three. Guilt crawled up your spine, the image of her body arriving at Driftmark and the sound of your grandmother’s wailing would not leave you. It had been days since and you had attached yourself to her side - her fingers gripping yours tightly – as if she were worried you would too, be swept away from her. You had wanted to join her, in welcoming the guests as they arrived but, for this particular time, it was deemed improper. Coryls and Rhaenys would greet the King at the docks, allowed leave when they would make their way into the castle.
You straightened your spine, squared your shoulders, and nodded to yourself. Luke was right, your joy at the moment was not proper. No matter how long it had been since you had last seen your friends.
The silence had become suffocating once more when the guards at the doors straightened. The sounds of doors creaking and footsteps echoed in the room. Everyone made to stand, you at the head, as the king was announced. “King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”
Two figures appeared in the doorway and you all bowed deeply as your grandsire smiled at you all. “It has been some time,” he said, your eyes glued to the new walking stick he was using, “I am amazed at how you have all grown in such a short time. It is regrettable that these dark days are what has given us all a chance to reunite.”
Trailing behind them, servants and guards spilled into the castle, Driftmark becoming even more so alive. Three silver heads appeared near the queen and the knot in your chest returned three-fold. How could you have ever thought those flutters would have gone?
Aemond trailed after Aegon, who had grown in height, his eyes glancing around the room. His hair was longer since you’d last seen him months ago.
Without thinking much, you ran towards them. Throwing your arms around Aemond, a seemingly unbreakable habit of yours, his startled grunt rang loud in the silence. His hands settled on your waist, as they always did when you took him by surprise. Unable to fight against instinct, you tucked your nose into his neck and relished the scent of wood and sea that clung to him still. “I missed you,” you said, words only for him. “You are taller, oh, you’re taller than me now. That’s not fair!”
Aemond’s laughter cut through the surprised silence, his grip on you tightening. “I have missed you as well.”
After a beat, your grandsire smiled. “I believe that is the first time we have heard Aemond laugh since last spring,” he smiled warmly and you released Aemond quickly, “she is already uniting our families without setting foot near the throne.”
Sheepish at your slipping manners, you could feel the stern stare of the maesters, you stepped back from Aemond. Your eyes caught the queen’s before they darted down to the floor. The disapproval in them, at least, was familiar. “Your Grace,” you bowed deeply in front of the king. “My sincerest apologies. I hope you had a smooth trip.”
The twinkle in his eye told you he knew of your struggle with your lessons. You had written to him once, upon your arrival months ago, to express gratitude for the gift he had given you. Aemond took a few steps out from behind his mother and towards you. His smile was wide and you beamed back at him, happy to have him in your grasp again. The queen’s heavy stare brought your eyes back to her and you were more than startled to see a small, sincere, smile laying on her delicate features. She glanced happily, it seemed, at the grin on Aemond’s face. Regardless, you bowed low a second time. “My queen.”
Helaena waved brightly at you and you couldn’t help but give her a hug as well. Pressing your cheek against hers, you grinned at her bashful smile before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you well?”
She nodded, eyes darting all over the room. “There are many bugs here,” she said, pleased. You laughed, squeezing her hands between yours.
“Don’t I get a greeting, niece?” Aegon’s voice echoed within you, scratching unpleasantly against your very being.
Your eye twitched with the need to snap in his direction but you bowed your head. “Prince Aegon.”
Everyone fell silent, Aemond and Aegon staring at you in mild shock. Your eyes bore holes onto the floor, trying to keep your body in a less defensive stance, when Jace broke the silence. “She has been in lessons for months and the maesters threaten to use her favorite books for kindling if she does not cooperate,” he smiled politely, “it does not last long before the threats begin again but she has been improving.”
You snapped your neck and glared at him. Jace grinned and the king laughed. “Come, we must join the rest of the family. I shall like to find my cousin. Where is Daemon?” He asked the nearest guard, the queen fretting over his trembling hand.
Without hesitating, you walked towards the doors, grabbed Aemond’s hand and squeezed Helaena’s. “The best bugs are in the garden outside my quarters, go through my sitting room and out the doors,” you whispered. She laughed, delighted, and followed her mother deeper into the castle.
Pulling Aemond out into the courtyard, you led him back down to the eastern shore. “I have much to tell you!” You said, excited, letting the wind whip your hair across your shoulders.
Aemond’s laughter danced around you, the sound achingly tender and filling your ribcage with an overflow of affection that you knew not what to do with. “More than our letters? I have only just finished reading your latest one a fortnight ago,” he asked, following you closely. “Must we return to the sea? I only just got off a ship.”
“Driftmark is not too far from King’s Landing, surely you jest!” You rolled your eyes at him. “And yes! For I have now met our cousins and must tell you everything!”
The solemn faces of Baela and Rhaena floated to the front of your mind. You had arrived earlier than most, on dragonback, your mother wanting you to keep to your father’s side. Onixa had taken to watching Seasmoke warily, but staying near as well. However, upon running to your grandmother to offer your affections in her grief, you found two silver haired girls.
Aemond’s smile was soft and it wrapped itself around you like a familiar blanket. Settling onto a stone bench nearby, he nodded at you, giving you space to continue. While you had no shortage of people to listen to you – Jace and Luke would complain until their voices gave but they would always begrudgingly listen – there had always been something special commanding all of Aemond’s attention. He was an observer by nature, you knew, and quiet but in the manner of which he listened, completely and utterly at attention…you had missed it more than you’d let on.
So, you told him of your ride to Driftmark from Dragonstone, of how distraught your grandmother was and how you sought to ease her pain but you worried there was no recovering from this grief. “The Stranger comes for us all,” Aemond said, quietly and solemnly. You could almost hear the queen’s voice through him, something you’d heard her mutter before.
“How cruel, to lose both babe and mother,” you said, eyes on the sea. It pulled you in, as it always had, and you sighed. “I never met her, but of what Baela and Rhaena tell, she was lovely. She had written me once, congratulating me on being named heir. She showed me support and had word of encouragement.”
“She was your Aunt,” Aemond said, “it is natural to feel some grief, even if you did not know her.”
The portrait of her above the fireplace came to mind, her curls wild and beautiful. “You know how I require a tonic to sleep at times,” you said, voice low, Aemond’s nod barely visible as your eyes focused onto the sea, “I heard them on the way back from the maester’s quarters. They were crying, weeping really, and I knocked. They are a bit younger than my brothers and…I could not let them cry alone. I hurried to my rooms and grabbed the first book I saw. It was the tale of that knight, the one we read together. So, I read to them, until sleep found them. It took hours but, their grief is so heavy. I could not help but weep with them. For them.”
A warm arm settled around your shoulders, and you eagerly leaned into the comfort it offered. “I…could not help but think of my father.”
“Your father?”
“The news of Laena’s death has uprooted him entirely. You know I spend most of my time in my mother’s company, but he was never…this. Grief has turned him into someone I scarcely recognize. Mother asked that I keep close to him but I am afraid I have been failing. We had fought before the news had arrived to us. It is selfish, and silly really.”
His silence urged you and you could hear his unspoken words. I am listening.
Sighing, you wrung your fingers together – nerves entirely too unsettled. “He had brought up the topic of suitors with my mother. You know how she gets with certain things – how they both do. Now, it’s all they wish to speak of. When is the appropriate time, who are proper choices, what would the king approve of, what alliances are we in need of?” You huffed. “I was angry, so angry at him for speaking as if I was a piece he could move. Especially when he, himself, wants no part in it.”
Aemond’s hands clenched for a moment, twisting in his lap. “I am sure he knows any words you spoke in anger were not true.”
You lifted a shoulder, wanting to bury your face into his tunic. “Mother says I do not yet have to entertain any of them but that I should adjust my expectancies accordingly. As an heir has duties,” you said, in the best imitation of her voice that you could summon. “She has thoughts of venturing north. The Stark’s have a son near our age.”
That broke his revere. “To Winterfell?” He exclaimed, straightening quickly and his arm weighing heavily against you.
“She says it is a long journey, one not to be made easily, and we would need to venture as a family – not on dragonback, at least not entirely. Apparently, they unsettle the Northerners. I have only barely begun my studies. My grandsire has also requested I seek tutelage under his house as well. I am to stay at Driftmark for the next season. You see what I have been reduced to. A piece on a board. I am told where to go, who to speak to, what to do. I must admit, Aemond, I am scared.”
The silence that fell was comfortable, you closed your eyes and let your shoulders fall from around your ears.
“Of Driftmark?”
You shook your head, eyes still shut. “I am worried that I will not be able to emulate her,” you swallowed around the stone in your throat, “my mother. She is effortless in her duties as heir. I am not yet a year from being named heir and find my knees buckling under the weight of a crown that is yet a distant future for me.”
“You will do well as queen,” Aemond said, reverent, “what you do not yet know, you will learn. You will do what is best for all.”
The words echoed those of others who had counseled you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, you nodded, eyes opening and focusing on a bird flying through the clouds at a distance.
Aemond cleared his throat, tentative expression obvious to you. “I heard the news of Harrenhal.”
The sharp pain that you had been hiding deep within you surfaced. It pulsed near your clavicle; a pain that refused to be set aside for a more convenient time. You let your eyes drop to the stone path before you, drawing on your lessons and kept your voice even. “We, too, heard news of Harrenhal. What an unfortunate accident.”
Silence followed your even tone, an entirely appropriate amount of grief in your voice.
“You need not pretend with me,” he said so quietly you almost did not hear it.
It was not appropriate, you told yourself. These were not things you spoke of in public. It was treason. Blasphemous.
The memory of a crooked, kind, and familiar smile fought its way through your guard and settled in your throat. His voice – the encouragement he would shout when you were in the training yard. The soft tone when you would break your fast with him in the morrow. He had been the first to teach you how to mount a horse without falling off. Harwin had been the one to encourage your interest in archery. The world continued without a care, for the Stranger did not care for trivial human emotions. But you would be all the poorer without his guidance.
A horrible pressure behind your eyes allowed for a tear to escape you. Wiping it away just as fast as it arrived, you swallowed your own grief down. The warm palm at your back made you twitch, you felt oddly vulnerable and you did not particularly like it. You squeezed the hand at your shoulder in silent gratitude.
“Have you heard that mother intends to marry Helaena to Aegon?” He asked, merciful in his new question.
The exclamation on your expression must have informed him of your feelings on the matter because his indelicate snort brought a smile to your face. “Why did you not tell me before?”
“It was decided on as we left. To keep the line pure. Mother’s idea.”
You wrinkled your nose and chewed on your bottom lip. “Poor Helaena. Though, I must admit, I am very glad it is not me that has been chosen as his bride.”
“As am I.”
You smiled, the memory of that night still fresh in your mind. Aemond’s hesitance when offering up the betrothal.
“You have changed,” Aemond said, the storm in his eyes clashing with yours.
Laughter you could not contain bubbled up and you could not stop the stumble of your heart when the twist of his lips told you he was holding back his own laughter. “Surely you jest,” you said, shaking your head, “I have not yet been away from court for too long to change.”
“It will be a year once summer is upon us, it nears soon,” Aemond said, eyes dropping down to your folded hands.
You let your own eyes trail down his figure. It had seemed that he, too, had changed in your absence from King’s Landing. Aemond had been a constant in your life, his silent, endearing presence. There were few people who you could say you knew quite well, and despite the recent distance, Aemond was one of them. The way he had always sat across from you at dinner, his feet stumbling against yours, how he preferred his tea warm in the mornings, how you knew he secretly liked the tales you chose despite his open disdain for them, and how the sea had always unnerved him just a little. The steady gaze he kept on the water let you know he still had no lost love for it.
But…it seemed that time had cast a shadow between you two. There was a hesitance to him now, one that had not been there before. You knew not what made you uneasy, not yet, but it brought a fierce wave of melancholy to your chest. This was not something you would allow to be a source of grief. You had lost the life you could have once had, but you would not lose Aemond. Not to something as fickle as time and distance.
“You have changed as well,” you said, watching his shoulders tense at your words. Reaching across the distance, to the clenched hands on his leg, you trailed your thumb over his scarred knuckles. Eyes tracing the pink gashes, you fought the urge to ask what had caused them. Instead, you let a small amount of sadness trickle through the rubble. “You are taller,” you said after a pause, lips twisting into a smile when he huffed a laugh at you.
“No matter what happens, between our families, we will never be like them. Promise me.” You pled, not wanting to ever imagine a future where you were on a throne you did not want, without Aemond’s support. You wouldd yet to know a life without it and were not keen to start now. Not with Harwin gone. His eyes dropped down to your gown and you glanced, worried you had somehow managed to stain your bodice. You saw nothing but your necklace slipping from your collar. His eyes swayed with the motion of your pendant.
“Of course not,” he swore, hand squeezing yours. His thumb traced a line down your palm, tapping the center twice. You are not alone, I am here. “I will make sure of it.”
Not able to keep your worry at bay, you asked, “Does Aegon bother you?”
A small scowl grew on his expression. “You ask in nearly all your letters, my answer has not changed,” a defensiveness in his tone, new to you, had you releasing his hand. You did not know how to maneuver this new side of him yet.
Clearing your throat, you stood. “Did you want a tour of Driftmark? My home may be Dragonstone but this is where my father would take us when he wished to be away from the Red Keep.” You glanced up the shore, towards your temporary home. “Everyone is busy for the funeral this afternoon. Velaryons are buried at sea.”
Aemond followed your gaze. “I know.” He offered you his elbow and you laughed at the foreign action. The uncertainty that flashed across his eyes cracked your heart further. Not wanting to deepen the chasm between you two, you took it, squeezing it once.
“Come, I will show you the library.”
You hurried, skirts in hand, as you made your way to the guest quarters. Aemond had asked to meet with you before supper, but your lessons had run for longer than you had thought. It seemed it mattered little that you had buried your aunt at sea naught but a week prior. Your High Valyrian lessons waited for no mortal issues.
Smiling at the servants that bowed as you hurried towards the eastern side of the hall, you wiped at the sweat on your brow. Gods, summer really was hurrying towards the realm with vengeance.
A voice behind you stilled your quick steps, the sharp tone bleeding through a barely open door. “Can you manage not to embarrass everyone for once?” Aegon’s voice was unmistakable. You would recognize it anywhere.
The silence that followed was poignant and heavy.
“Do not look at me that way,” Aegon continued, “what is the point of it all anyway? Trying to make a good impression on our dear old sister? Hoping she will one day approve of whatever stupid dream you have got of marrying her daughter? The heir to the fucking iron throne?”
Breath stuck in your throat; you clasped a hand across your lips.
“I am – not-” The stutter in his words broke your heart.
Aegon scoffed. “Everyone sees the way you look at her. Why do you think father tried so hard to convince mother to let you be the one she married off to, the only non-half breed our sister has?”
“Father approved?”
“Right after she was named heir. Everyone’s eyes were off of me – I was worried, truly, for a moment that they would make me marry that self-righteous cunt-”
A loud clamoring and the sound of metal against stone had you peering in. “Do not speak about her that way! She is a princess and she will one day be our queen.”
Aegon’s laughter was cruel, one you had heard directed at you and your brother countless times. “You have no dragon, you are a second son, and you are barely able to keep a sword in your hand. What could you possible bring to the union? Aemond, really. I brought you to Street of Silk so you would finally put this all behind you-”
“Enough!”
“Oh, brother. How pathetic of you to still pine after her,” the sound of shuffling around had you stepping back, “it is not as if mother would let you anyway. You know how she hates them-”
Stumbling back quietly, your palm came to the cold stone. You let it prop you up as you ran down the corridor and collapsed at the awning at the end.
Had Aegon implied that Aemond…that he had wanted to marry you? You had thought that offer in the garden was to save you from Aegon. Had he-
“Ember!”
Startled out of your skin, your back became rigid, shoulders stiff. Helaena’s beaming smile warmed your trembling hands and you could not help but smile back at her.
“Are you alright?” She asked, eyes turning worried. “Have you seen my brothers? Mother said we were to arrive on time for supper.”
Her brothers.
You glanced at the empty corridor and cleared your throat. “No, I have not seen them.”
Helaena’s free hand, the other cradling a small jar teetering precariously, shot out to grab your own hand.
“He will love you just the same with one eye,” she said, “regret will fill both your cups but you will empty them together.”
One eye? You glanced over her shoulder. “What?” Your thoughts were too loud, all of them rushing into each other in a chaotic stampede.
She blinked at you, eyes sparkling. “Your forgiveness will taste like dragon’s bloom the first time, but like iron the second,” she hummed, tilting her head in a manner that was unique to her, “sapphires are your favorite after all.”
Before you could even begin to unravel her riddles, a pair of steps caused your spine to straighten.
“Helaena, who are you speaking-” Aegon’s voice tapered off at the sight of your clutched hands, “hello niece.”
Not able to keep your ire at bay, you snapped, “You may call me princess.”
Aegon’s smile widened, as it always did when you fought back. “And here I was, thinking you had changed.”
Biting back your retort, you glanced at Aemond’s face to find his eyes already on yours. “I was coming to find you,” you told him, “I found Helaena first.”
Moving to stand, you winced at the ache in your hip from this morning. “Are you alright?” Aemond asked, brow furrowing in concern.
“Yes, quite-”
“Do you not remember? She hurt herself after taking that dive near the cliffs with Onixa. Ah yes, you were not there this morning but here in the castle with mother,” Aegon said, grinning when Aemond’s ears went pink.
Ire building fiercely in your chest, you crossed your arms. “You need not be rude about it, Aegon. We understand the need for your ego to be stroked at every moment.”
Aegon, unbothered, flicked his hand in your direction but before he could get any words out – “You need not defend me at every turn,” Aemond snapped at you, shocking you entirely, “I can fight my own battles. Not every quip is meant to turn into a war.”
The corridor went silent at his words. Aegon, even, turned to glance at his brother with a surprised expression. His widened eyes found yours for a moment before turning to Helaena.
“I…will start our way to supper. Considering how bloody confusing this castle is,” Aegon said as he walked down towards the north end, he turned without a backwards glance. Beckoning Helaena closer with your stare, you watched despairingly as she stepped towards her rooms.
“I must change before joining everyone,” she said, leaving you and Aemond alone.
Swallowing your pride, you wrung your hands together and took a step towards him. “I did not mean to wound, Aemond-”
“Surely you must realize he will only antagonize me further,” Aemond snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair, “you defend me at every turn like I am a helpless child. I can take on my brother if I need to, on my own. I am not like your brothers!”
You watched the angry twist of his lips for a moment, realizing that the wall he had built around himself seemed to no longer included you. Had you been out of place? Were you overbearing? You had not meant to be…you were only trying to help. Clarity rung within you. Aegon had been goading him about you, of course. He had done so since your girlhood – how stupid of you to believe it sincere.
The disapproving glare of the maesters pierced through your memory. “You have much still to learn, princess.”
Shame burned you from the inside, licking at the walls of its gilded cage. Dredging up the poise from within yourself, you pressed your hands to your bodice. “Of course, my prince, my apologies,” you said, proud of how even your voice was.
Aemond’s eyes flew up to yours at the formality. The ire disappeared entirely, the familiarity you were accustomed to returning swiftly. Desperation clouded the violet you so loved but you cared little for it now. His voice was small as it called for you, “Ember, do not-”
“Shall we go then?” You asked, ignoring his outstretched hand and wounded expression. He had made it clear that they were no longer yours to soothe. You had rarely ever fought with Aemond, you did not know how to handle your own emotions, even less his. If you had overstepped, you would learn to stay within your boundaries. Clearly, a year had changed more than you thought possible.
Without waiting for another response, you turned – the hem of your dress swirling out with you – and made your way down the corridor.
If at supper, Jace was surprised to find you in his normal seat next to your mother, he said nothing as he settled next to Aemond. You would need to bribe the kitchens for his favorite cake all of next week.
“What a wonderful necklace, Your Grace,” you complimented the queen on her seven-star pendant, ignoring the surprised looks you received. “We requested the kitchens to make your favorite for the morning, I know you prefer an herbal tea as you break your fast.”
You firmly ignored your mother’s inquisitive look, and Aemond’s desperate one, and nodded as the queen discussed the benefits of her morning meal.
A loud roar shook you awake. You glanced at the empty bed next to you, where Rhaena and Baela had been asleep when your eyes had shut. Glancing at the window, you realized it was the wolf’s hour – where were they?
The hair on your neck stood as a second roar followed and you stomach heaved. Surely, they could not have gotten far. You slipped your shoes on, tucking your arms into your robe, and quickly made your way towards the doors. It was likely they would be in the kitchen, or with your grandmother, but instinct led you down the corridor towards the south sea entrance – the one nearest the dragon caves.
As you rounded the corner, you caught the sound of screams echoing in the darkness. Heart in your throat, you ran faster.
You skidded to a stop, tripping over your skirts, breath in your throat when you saw familiar mops of silver and dark hair sprawled atop of Aemond.
“Have you all lost your mind?” You screamed, your voice carrying a command. “Get off of him!” Surprised, they all obeyed, and you rushed towards him. “Aemond? Seven Hells, you are bleeding!”
Before you could rip your robe to tie round his hand, a symphony of voices behind you erupted. You turned, confused, eyes already searching out Jace’s when you were pushed aside. Throwing your hands out to break your balance, you cried out as a rock sliced your hand. Aemond used the distraction to his advantage.
Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched him – his entire being unknown to you.
He lunged and you tried to stand, his eyes wild and expression twisted. Aemond grabbed Luke by the front of his tunic, dragging him closer. Your gaze was drawn to the rock in Aemond’s hand and your voice died in your throat. Your mind simply was not cooperating with you, it could not understand how - he wouldn’t – not Aemond, not your Aemond.
“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond’s ire was clear and wild, his eyes unseeing as he raised the rock above his head. “Bastards.”
The words strike you so deeply that you stumbled backwards, back scraping against the rough walls. How dare he? Aemond of all people! Fury built from your feet and climbed up towards your heart, blinding you with indignation.
“My father is still alive!” Luke cried, voice innocent. And in the end, it was the strike that cracked a fissure in your heart. His belief in your father, stronger than your own. You wanted to weep at the idea of it being lost, that he would learn to finally notice the whispers that surrounded your family. That he would see how your silver hair mattered. You kept your eyes on the rock, mourning what had to be done, and you lifted your hands up.
“Aemond Targaryen, if you hurt my brother not only will I never forgive you but I will slice your heart from your chest before he takes his last breath,” you said, fire dripping from your every word.
At the sound of your voice, he faltered, as if finally realizing that you were there. Life flittered back into him, the broken remnants of your closest friend returning back to you. A decision loomed in the distance; one you had not known would come so soon. His eyes flittered to you for a moment, hands lowering, before Jace shouted, “Leave them alone!” Aemond turned towards your brothers, choice made.
“He does not yet know?” He sneered, an expression you had never seen on his face, cruelly laughing at the innocence you fought to protect. A pang of Aegon lived within him, you realized, and you stumbled at the sight of it.
You heard the sound of a small dagger being unsheathed and you watched Luke be thrown backwards on the floor from the impact of knuckles hitting bone. Blood bursting from his nose, panic choked you. Your foot had barely found purchase under the dirt beneath you when Jace flew at Aemond. Heart lurching, your pulse rattled fiercely in your chest.
It had only taken a moment, but you had known – oh, how you had known - and Aemond had Jace lying flat on his back. The rock flew, high above his head, poised for Jace’s head. You cursed yourself for removing your own dagger before bed, it laid useless on your table in your room. It was no matter, your body moved before your mind could even comprehend. The ghost of Harwin’s voice echoed in your head, protect your brothers little one, you’re the eldest. Protect your brothers. Jace grunted, protesting as you threw your body over his in the dirt. Your side slammed into his chest, both of you heaving as your left hand gripped at his wrist and the other raised towards Aemond.
Surprised, Aemond veered at the last moment, but not fast enough. “No!” He screamed. “Ember!”
Pain burst at your temple, your head snapping backwards from the impact, immediate and unbearable. Warmth blossomed as blood flooded your vision and something within you splintered. You could not comprehend anything, as you laid atop of your brother, blind and deaf. Then, a symphony of muffled screaming bled into your consciousness.
“She is not moving!” A voice screamed. “He has killed her. He killed our cousin!”
A loud wail bounced in the air, desperate for an escape. “I-I did not- not her, never her. I would not – look at what you have done!” Aemond’s voice screamed, anguished. “Look at what you made me do!”
Rhaena wailed, her voice high and loud. You tightened your grip and Jace screamed your name, his free hand coming up to your face in a panic. “Do not touch her! Get away from my sister!”
“Luke, no!” Baela shrieked.
Another pained scream echoed in the caves, the sound of a second body hitting the floor before a rustle of frantic footsteps came towards you all.
“Cease this at once! Get away!” The sound of metal let you know the guards were here and your grip loosened. They would not let your brothers be hurt. Protect your brothers. You are the firstborn. Protect your brothers.
“No, squeeze my hand!” Jace demanded, bossy as always. “Sister, please!” Your fingers would not cooperate, they fell from his arm, limp and useless.
You moaned as your head pounded, the pain becoming intolerable. Its hands wrapped around your neck and pulled you down into the darkness, beckoning you towards it.
"Is that blood? Gods. The princess!” A set of hands fluttered around your neck, steadying your body. “She is losing consciousness! You, get a maester. The heir has been hurt. Run!”
A soft careening followed the footsteps, your cousins sniffling through their sobs. “Is she dead? Is she dead?” A voice that once brought lightning into your bones asked, despair covering it’s every syllable.
Another voice spoke nearby. “My prince, let me see. His eye, Alistar, his eye.”
“They are losing too much blood – wait, princess? Princess? Stay awake!”
The voices hurt, the light of the fire dancing around you, calling you to join. “Protect my brothers Alistar,” you mumbled best you could, before turning and embracing the darkness.
The first thing you heard when you woke was silence. Blinking, you tried to clear your blurry vision. You groaned as the pain in your head registered. It was throbbing, a pulse in your temple so fierce you saw stars. Hand coming up to touch your head, you realized it was heavily bandaged. The cloth ran around your head, forehead to your hair. Your fingers came away bloody and you winced.
Where were you? You tried to force your vision, the room swimming as you realized it was your mother’s bedchamber. Empty pots of bloody water and thread laid at the bed table. With great effort, you hauled yourself to sit up. Bile threatened to spill as your vision doubled but you forged ahead.
With a grunt you lifted your legs to the edge, one hand on your bandaged temple and the other wrapped itself around the bedpost. Your mother’s room was on the ground floor, closest to throne room, your mind slugged along. Feet refusing to cooperate, you teetered as you stood, room twirling despite your frozen stance.
You knew not how long you stood there, but when you opened your eyes a second time – the room had blessedly stood still. Hand reaching for the table, you used it to bear most of your weight before reaching for the doors. A sudden wave hit your chest, traveling down and you heaved against the wall, letting the bile spill onto the stone.
Protect your brothers, your mind reminded you, they’re your responsibility. Where were they? You had barely taken your first unstable step out the door when a shriek pierced through your glazed pain. “My princess!” The voice called out. Hands gripped your arms and you panicked. “It’s me, sweetling, it is me!”
Lyra’s grey face swam into your vision and you gripped her arms, nails digging into her skin. She stared back at you, unflinching, eyes welling with tears. “You are awake, thank the Seven, you are finally awake,” she muttered, tears falling, “what are you doing out of bed? The maester was not sure if you would wake! Oh, my sweet, how your head must hurt. I have got milk of the poppy, come – guards! Where are you bloody guards? I will get you back myself.”
“Lyra,” you rasped, voice hoarse, “where are they?”
She frowned. “The throne room, princess. Please, you must return to bed-”
“Take me,” you commanded, for the first time since Lyra had entered into your service when you had seen your sixth summer. A memory flittered across your mind, unbidden and unwanted, of a young maid being tasked to you. Her soft smile and gentle fretting. “Lyra, take me to them.” Her brows furrowed together, worry etched in every crease, but she knew better than anyone that you would drag yourself if you needed to.
“Your mother will have my head,” she muttered, wrapping your arm around her shoulder, stumbling at first when your weight dropped as your strength failed you. “I have got you princess, come.”
With her aid, you turned the corner at the end of the corridor. Voices carried as you limped your way towards the grand double doors.
The queen’s voice rang clearly. “Our son has been maimed and your son is responsible!”
“My daughter lies in a bed, unconscious, because of your son!” Your mother screamed, voice rough and furious. “Your son lives! It was a regrettable accident but he is alive and breathing!”
The queen’s voice faltered; her voice not as sure. “A regrettable accident? Prince Lucerys brought a blade, he meant to kill my son!”
“And your son might have already killed my daughter! The heir to the Iron Throne! You seek to remove my line and place yours instead! My daughter is - what did you call it maester?”
A third, unknown voice, echoed. “We must see what damage was done when she awakes. The cut she suffered was deep and will scar, but the impact of the hit was in a sensitive area, princess. We do not know what the recovery will look like.”
A weeping sound split your heart, her voice cracking. “My firstborn, my only daughter, was struck by your son! One who claimed to care for her! One who I, at one moment, thought would defend her with his life!” She shouted, with all the fury and grief of a dragon. “Your son may have lost an eye but we still yet not know what he has taken from my daughter. Her life? Her ability to see? To speak? To walk? My sons were forced to defend themselves after watching their sister be brutally attacked!”
You slowed even further, memories returning to you. “Lyra,” you moaned, eyes closing as the pain doubled. “Aemond…did this?” You asked, heart splitting further. A flurry of shouts from within the hall echoed but you could not discern who was speaking.
“Princess, please, we can go back – it has not yet been an hour since your attack. Prince Aemond-”
“You forget yourself!” Corlys’ voice boomed, your grandsire’s joining the rest. Gods, your grandparents had been awakened. Surely your brothers must be injured gravely.
Lyra sighed. “One more corner my lady, we are almost there.”
The king’s voice was weak, grief and worry weighing it down. “We will have the best maesters caring for her, she will wake.”
“Where is she?” Rhaenys demanded. “Where is my granddaughter? What have you done to her?”
At the sight of the three guards standing at attention by the doors, Lyra sighed in relief. “Jory!” She called, the guard’s head snapping towards you. “Help!”
All three guards hurried forward; the one Lyra called out to reaching you first. “Princess! She should be in bed, the maester was clear-”
“Pick me up,” you commanded, voice slurring a little, “I command you. Now.”
They looked at each other, glances worried, and Lyra snapped. Command clear, she squared her shoulders. “She wants to be in the room and you will not deny the princess! I will announce her, come.” With her shaking hands and chin held high, she squeezed your hand once before stepping through the doors. The guard watched you wince, his apology soft as he gently tucked his arm under your knees and lifting you into the air. A dark cloak was draped across your body, covering your bare legs.
“Princess-” Lyra quickly stepped aside as your mother screamed.
“Ember!” Voices shouted, chaos quickly commanding the room as a slew of people hurried over to you.
Daemon’s face floated into your line of vision before it was replaced by your mother’s. A flurry of voices made your head throb but a soft set of hands framed your face.
“You are awake, thank you,” she whispered her lips against your unbandaged temple. “Thank you, Father, for giving her back to me. Can you speak? Can you see? You need to be in bed! Maester!”
“Brothers, my brothers,” you rasped, “where are they?”
Daemon shifted again and your two brothers ran towards you, held back by your mother at the last moment. “I swear I did not mean to hurt Aemond! I did not!” Luke cried. “He dropped the rock on your head and I thought you were dead! She threw herself over Jace when Aemond was going to cut him - then after he hit her, she went still. I thought she was dead!” He wailed, overwhelmed at the sight of you. Reaching for his hand, he clung to your weak grip, his cheek pressing against your knuckles.
Jace’s worried expression came to your other side, his words wounded and angry. “You are so stupid! Why would you do that? I am meant to protect you! I should have been the one hurt! I thought – the blood-” His hands were covered in blood, your blood you presumed.
With a strong look and a wave of her hand, your mother guided the guard towards a set of chairs. The fire warmed you and you realized; you had naught but a chemise on. Pulling the guard’s cloak tighter against you, you winced when your head throbbed at the movement.
The maester nearest to you went to work immediately, the bloodied bandage on your temple was removed. “We must change the wrappings,” he said to your handmaiden, who hovered worriedly still.
“He called us bastards!” “He stole my mother’s dragon!” “My son has lost an eye!”
Words swirled around you, choking you, but all you could think of was on the empty spot of your memory. Aemond? Hurt you? He would never…he could never. The flicker of the flames drew the waiting shadows closer, your eyes straining to stay open. The king’s loud shout pulled your attention at last, your head weakly lifting.
“Enough! Make amends. We are family. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!” He slammed his walking stick to the ground, the sound piercing your cloud of pain.
Flashes of mere moments ago raced through you, your head throbbing at the speed of which the vast space was filled. Aemond’s hand on a rock and the sneer on his expression. He had reminded you of…of Aegon.
“He tried to kill my brother,” you said to no one, your meek voice buried by the louder ones at present.
A sharp pain in your chest brought forth a louder sound from your throat, ripped unconsciously and a soft murmur settled in the hall.
“It is a very good sign that she speaks now, very good, Your Grace,” the maester said, hands moving quickly around your temple, his eyes moving from the king to you.
“Yes, he has lost an eye but her daughter has also lost much, Alicent. You are letting your temper cloud your judgement. Think of what has happened, they are both permanently damaged! He is my son but she is my granddaughter.”
Your head fell limp, to the side. As bodies shifted around you quickly, fingers prodding at your head, you caught sight of another body being tended to. Ignoring the ensuing chaos, Aemond kept his remaining eye on you, desperate. “I am sorry, Ember – I…I did not - I would not hurt you. Not you,” Aemond said as you were sat in a chair near him, voice desperate and pleading.
You let your head turn towards him, his scar gruesome and a violent shade of red. Sadness rooted in your chest at the sight of it, memories now fresh. You should have been faster – done something to prevent all this. As angry as you were, no matter what he had planned to do, Aemond had not deserved this. You had not either. You were all pawns in a game much bigger than you had realized. But you were learning. You cared for him deeply, more than you had yet to admit to yourself, but tonight had changed everything.
Your eyes flittered over to your mother, who was fretting over your care. Her eyes were wild and her movements protective, like Onixa. You knew the day had come, the one your father had always talked about, lines were to be drawn and you needed to pick a side. Aemond would not have hurt you, but he would have had no issue hurting your brothers. It did not matter that your hands itched to be in his, that you felt whole when you were with him. That you sought the way his touch set something within you right. None of it mattered.
Your ancestors before you had played this game, and you had watched your mother be drawn into it. No matter how you fought, you were now a player – willing or not. Decision made, you turned back to Aemond, who recoiled at what he saw there.
“If you ever lift a hand to any of my family again, I will rip your other eye out and feed it to Onixa. You may call them bastards and taunt them from your high towers," your eyes darted to the queen, who watched warily, "but what of me? My hair is just as silver as yours. Both of my parents are from old Valyria. I thought you were my most cherished friend. I lov-” your emotions choked you, voice failing. You thought of the swell of emotion you felt at the thought of him – no matter. Your spine morphed into the steel it was always meant to be. “You may have lost an eye but I am the heir, after all, and you have just tried to kill me.”
At that, the queen’s expression finally sobered. Aemond winced, moving towards you but was halted by the Maester. “Ember, I am so-”
“I wish never to speak to you again,” you said, your grandmother finally making her way to you – distraught. Her hands gathered you into her arms, your eyes catching your mother’s and the fierce look in them worried you.
“Come, my girl, you must be in bed,” she fretted, Corlys holding your mother in all her fury, her arm clutched to her chest. The guard from earlier apologized once again, his arms strong as he lifted you into the air.
“Let this be the end of it!” The king demanded, settling in his chair with his guards.
But you were not done. What had happened tonight was something none of you would be able to return from. “I am not afraid of you, any of you,” you said into the silence, as you were brought to the door, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in your throat. With a graceless dip of your head, you lowered your eyes to the ground from your grandsire. “Your Grace.”
The Queen’s Guard stepped forward after a piercing look from her. “Princess if I may-”
“Do not deign to think you are allowed to touch me, Cole,” you hissed, exhausted. He recoiled at your venom, looking properly chastised.
Your grandmother sighed as she hurried your guard towards the hallway. “You really do have your mother’s temper,” she said with a twisted smile, “that dragon’s blood will kill this family one day. It will finish us all.”
Gaze flittering over the guard’s shoulder, you watched Dameon’s as he padded to the doors. His stance protective but his expression amused. With one last look, he winked before the doors were shut behind you.
The ashes of the destruction of the night settled around you, clinging to you in their own grief. The looking glass near your bed reminded you of a new, permanent, reminder. Forgetting was not a luxury you would have. The scar was fearsome, but would fade – according to the maesters. They assured you; your beauty was intact. As if that was amongst your worries, something as fleeting as beauty.
The sight of its matching scar flashed through your mind as you felt your bed dip. It was wide, fit for a queen, and the deep melancholy within you awakened. You would not see how his scar would fade, how it would alter his life from this night forward. You had yet to know what your life was like without Aemond Targayren in it. But you would learn.
Without a word, you curled into your mother’s warm touch and let the tears consume you. She hummed a soft tune, from your girlhood. “I am sorry, little one, I am so sorry,” she said, words lost to your tears. Your silence was not badly received, for she knew what you truly wept for.
All would be different now, for you had entered the playing board willingly. There would be much for you to learn still, now that new lines were drawn. The wide, desperate, look in his eye refused to leave you and for a moment, you let its mouth open wide and devour you.
Tomorrow you would be strategic.
Tonight, you would mourn.