𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵 𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙴𝙿'𝚂 𝙲𝙻𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 | 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗

𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎

Aemond huffed as he stormed down the corridors, the echoes of his nephews' laughs still ringing in his head. His fists clenched at his side as he tried to ignore them, but their words were hard to shake off. If only his dragon had hatched when he was still a baby, then he wouldn't have to deal with their constant mockery.

He scowled at the thought, wondering when it would be his turn to get a dragon. He deserved it the most out of all of them. He studied his history and knew what it took to be a Targaryen. He doubted his bastard nephews were the same. His mood soured even more as he thought of the brown hair his sister's children wore, proof to anyone with half a brain that they were anything but pure Targaryen. 

If only his mother would let him claim a dragon, then he would finally be able to shove it into their face. Show them what it meant to be a true Targaryen. His mother didn't seem to share his enthusiasm, telling him off anytime he tried to go near the dragon pit.

"Why are you so desperate to end up like your niece?" Alicent would ask him in exasperation, wondering why her son was so desperate to claim a dragon that he would risk his very life.

Her words were enough to silence Aemond, who had nothing but fond memories of his niece before her death. His strides slowed as he remembered his niece, the only person in their family who gave him more time than a simple snide comment sent his way.

He may have only been five when she passed away, perishing to a dragon's fire when curiosity drove her too far into the dragon pits, but he remembered her clearly. Aemma may have only been a year older than him, but she seemed wise beyond her years. Even when none of his other family would play with him, she dragged him to the corner of the room to read him one of the many stories of their lineage. 

"It's important to know our history," Aemma would always tell him as she read through the history books. "Only a fool would repeat the mistakes of his ancestors."

Perhaps that's why he was so fond of history, as he enjoyed listening the way her silky voice read over the words as they sat before the fire. He always imagined her soft voice when he spent his days in the library, away from the rest of his annoying family.

If only she hadn't gotten so close to the dragon that night, then perhaps she would be someone he could confide in. Or maybe they would have ended up bitter enemies from two warring sides of their family. They would never know, Aemond supposed as he thought about it. 

He couldn't blame her for wanting a dragon, he was the same, but he still cursed the gods for taking away the only good thing from their family.

"What are you doing out here?" Aemond pulled away from his thoughts as his mother approached him with a concerned look on her face. "I thought you were supposed to be down in the dragon pits with the others?"

"Not much point without a dragon," Aemond muttered as he stared down at the ground angrily. Alicent sighed at her son's words, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder despite having no idea what her son was going through.

"Why don't you go fetch Joffrey then," Alicent requested of her son, wanting to give him something to do. It may have also been a way for her to avoid seeing Rhaenyra. "Viserys has been asking for him all day."

Viserys. First name, not father. The only person Viserys acted like a father to was Rhaenrya, while the rest of his children didn't exist in his eyes. It only served to fuel Aemond's anger even further.

Aemond simply nodded his head as he turned without another word to go grab his youngest bastard nephew, doing anything to please his mother. It didn't take him long to come across Rhaenyra's quarters, hesitating as he lifted his hand to the door before knocking. There was a brief pause and a bit of shuffling before the door swung open to reveal one of the nursemaids.

"Prince Aemond," the nursemaid bowed as she opened the door to allow Aemond to enter. "The Princess Rhaenrya isn't here at the moment, is there something I can-"

"I'm not here for my sister," Aemond interrupted as he glanced around the hectic room littered with toys from the children. He supposed it wasn't a surprise with all his nephews being under the age of ten. "Viserys has requested Joffrey be brought to him."

"Of course, my prince," the nursemaid bowed before her widened and and she rushed over to the crib, where Joffrey was trying to stuff one of the toys into his mouth.

Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he glanced around the room more, having not visited it in a long time. His eye caught sight of papers on the table, and he inched forward to cast his gaze upon them. His stomach twisted at the familiar child's drawings of dragons, one of each that resided in the dragon pit. 

They were terrible drawings, each one somehow worse than the last, but Aemond would recognize from anywhere. He was there when Aemma drew them afterall. If she couldn't ride a dragon, she was going to draw them. Aemond didn't have the heart to tell her her drawings were terrible, but he had a sneaking suspicion she knew that and only did it to distract herself from the fact that neither of them had a dragon.

He was shocked Rhaenrya still held onto the drawings, especially so out in the open where anything could happen to them. Perhaps it was because his sister never mentioned her daughter, at least not since the incident happened. It was almost like Aemma never existed except for in his own mind. At least it was clear Rhaenrya never truly forgot about her, and that made Aemond a little less angry at her.

A small cough behind him pulled his attention back to the nursemaid, who stood with Joffrey in her arms.

"Shall we, my prince?" the nursemaid asked.

Aemond didn't comment on how improper it was for her to escort him out, but he assumed she only acted on Rhaenyra's orders. A reminder that things were broken between the family. He simply nodded his head and followed the nursemaid out of the room, glancing on last time over his shoulder before the door sealed him off from the memories of Aemma Velaryon.

・・・・-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-・・・・

Aemma hummed as she watched the dancing dragon in the music box once again, head resting against her arms as she allowed the sun to shine through her window and onto her pale complexion. While usually she would be running away to ride on her horse, her mind was on other things that afternoon. 

The dragon came to a slow halt, pulling Aemma out of her daydreams as she picked up the box and began winding up the music again. When she was finished, she set it back down as the music began playing.

She stood up, leaving the music box on the table as she made her way across the room to her bookshelf. She hummed along to the music as her hands traced over the spines, allowing her eyes to travel over the titles until her hand stopped at an older book. A soft smile graced her lips as she pulled it out of its proper place to show the Valyrian title.

Visenya se dragonrider dāria

It had been a long time since she had read that book. Several years, in fact.

Her mind flashed back to nights in front of the fire, her uncle curled up beside her as she read him these stories. She shook her head at the memories, feeling the familiar ache in her chest when she thought about home. Pelting against the window caught her attention as she turned her head to find it had started to rain heavily.

A reflection of her own emotions at the moment.

She released a sigh as she placed the book back on the shelf. The time for stories was over. She made her way further down the bookshelf until she found what she was looking for. Her face twisted at the book as she brought it over to her study. She plopped herself in the chair, glancing up at the music box that had stopped singing. Her hands reached up to close the box, pausing as she traced her fingers along the golden dragons.

She pulled away as she turned her attention back to the book filled with the laws and customs of Westeros. One day she would have her own dragon, and she would take back her rightful place on the throne.

Until then, she was just the simple bastard girl from Bitterbridge with a strange collection of books in her rooms. One day she would show everyone who she truly was, and how foolish they were to threaten her family.

One day, she kept telling herself.