𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵 𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙴𝙿'𝚂 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 | 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗

𝚝𝚠𝚘

Aemma stared back at the reflection before her, eyes boring into the brown strands that cascaded over her shoulders. She reached up to touch her face, wondering why she looked so much older than the mere eleven years old she currently was. 

Letting her hand fall back down to her side, she glanced over her shoulder to the room behind her. Her eyes trailed over the overdecorated room, filled with everything one could imagine. There was no doubt this room belonged to someone with exquisite taste, meaning it must have belonged to someone of very high power.

She caught sight of the messy bed, bedsheets half hanging off the side as it looked like whoever had slept there had a very enjoyable night. A flash of silver caught Aemma's attention, pulling her to the sword leaning against the table. Her face lit up as she recognized the Valyrian steel immediately, admiring its sheer beauty as she grasped it in her hand. Holding it up to view, she was amazed by the craftsmanship of the sword and the beautiful High Valarian words engraved into it. Her fingers traced over the words, almost as if she was bewitched.

BLOOD ABOVE ALL.

A loud roar finally pulled her attention away to the window. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the familiar of Kings Landing, somewhere she hadn't been since she was just a child. Another roar echoed throughout the skies, and she caught a glimpse of a dragon flying in the far distance. Who was riding the dragon, she had no idea.

Aemma hissed, head whipping back to the sword in her hand as a burning sensation shot through her hands. The sword clattered to her hand as she held up her hand to reveal the burning blisters already forming.

A cough forced its way out of her mouth as smoke suddenly filled the room, flames catching onto the curtains and any flammable objects in the room. Aemma stumbled backwards as her eyes burned at the sensation. More coughs tumbled out of her mouth as she searched for the doorway but was blinded from finding it. She stumbled blinded through the burning room, feeling the heat against her skin as she felt her throat closing in on her.

She clawed at her throat, falling to her knees as her hands wrapped around the door handle.

Aemma woke in a startled state, her hair clinging to the sweat on her face as she gripped the bedsheets entangling her body. Releasing a shaky breath, she lifted her hands to brush the hair away from her face. A soft light crept through the window, signaling the earliness of the morning.

She pushed the sheets away, swinging her feed over the side of the bed until they hit the cool stone floor. Aemma ignored the goosebumps that ran up her leg as she slipped out of the bed, making her way towards her dresser. When she stepped in front of the mirror, she took in her frazzled appearance and wide eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd had such a strange dream lately.

Her hands reached up to grasp her white hair, relieved when she saw her eleven year old face staring back at her. With a breath of relief, her eyes glanced down to the dark dye that sat on the table. She ignored the frown on her face as she reached for it, dipping her fingers into the muddy substance before lathering it onto her hair. It wasn't long until the white strands turned brown, erasing any existence of her Targaryen heritage.  

It was a simple trick, a way to keep her existence even more hidden away. One that Aemma hated with a passion. Alas, there was nothing to for her to do if she wanted to survive. She could still remember the flames that tried to kill her only a few years prior when she was only six. Perhaps that's why her dream had been so horrific last night. A mix of flashbacks and fears creeping back into her mind.

Aemma shook her head of the thoughts as she threw her messy hair into a braid, staring back at the brown strands that now graced her head. Setting the muddy dye back down on the table, she grabbed her coat before heading out to the kitchens for breakfast. Aemma hummed a song under her breath, the same one her mother used to sing her all the time when she was younger.

Passing through the servant's passageways, Aemma's skips soon became a slow walk as she noticed the whisperings following her. It had been five years since Lord Caswell brought her back to Bitterbridge and claimed her as his own, but it seemed even that wasn't enough time to stop the whispers of her bastard heritage.

Aemma wondered what they would think if they knew her true heritage. She quickly pushed the thought out of her mind, something like that would get only get her killed, or worse.

Her face morphed into surprise as she entered the bustling kitchen, wondering why it was so hectic on such a random day. Her confusion was soon answered, the sound of horns blaring from the gates to signal the return of the Lord of House Caswell. Aemma's face brightened as she turned on her heels, lifting up the skirts of her dress as she all but ran towards the front gate.

As she dashed through the halls of Bitterbridge, the servants were quick to duck out of the way as they were all too familiar with crashing into the clumsy girl when she was excited. She ran out the front doors of the castle, eyes brightening when she saw a familiar face climbing off the back of his horse with a large grin on his face as he kissed his wife in greeting.

Aemma slowed at the bottom of the steps, watching as Lord Caswell pulled away from his wife and caught sight of the small girl at the entrance of his home. He stepped aside from his wife, holding his arms out wide as a grin made its way onto Aemma's face. She ignored the look of utter disdain on Lady Caswell's face as she flew into Lord Caswell's arms, allowing him to spin her in a circle.

"A baby boy," Lord Caswell whispered so only she could hear. "Jaehaerys."

He set Aemma back on the ground, watching the happiness on his supposed daughter's face at the news.

"I brought a gift home," Lord Caswell reached into his bag, pulling out a small box engraved with dragons. "I was gifted it from the Princess Rhaenrya only recently, though I think you would find more use for it than I."

Aemma gasped as she grabbed the box from his hands, excitement running through her body as she ran her fingers over the golden dragons decorating the box. She opened the box, surprised when her mother's song began playing from the box as a dragon danced inside. It was perfect.

Lady Caswell scoffed from beside them, lips curled as she stared at the gift in disdain.

"I hope you brought something for your sons," She commented, the meaning of her words quite clear. For Lord Caswell's trueborn children.

Lord Caswell waved her off with a laugh.

"I brought them back plenty," Lord Caswell stated as he sent Aemma a wink, prompting a giggle from the girl. "Though if they really wanted it perhaps they would come greet their father after such a long journey home."

Lady Caswell huffed but didn't say anything else as Lord Caswell made his way towards the castle, Aemma fast on his heels as she began shooting questions about his trip to Kings Landing. Her curiosity was just as annoying as always, but little did Lady Caswell know the true meaning behind the seemingly harmless questions. The random curiosity about the royal family, more particular to the princess Rhaenyra and her children. 

To her it was just the nosy words of a child, but in truth, it was so much more. For as Lord Caswell answered Aemma's questions, there were small bits of information giving the girl messages from her family back in Kings Landing with none the wiser of the greater master plan happening right under their noses.