The Wild Dragon

Chapter 4 - Seen

Prince Aemond Targaryen had only love and respect for his mother but, for the first time in his life, did not care about her opinion. "You can't be serious, Aemond!" she had exclaimed the moment he had shut the door to her room behind them. He quietly watched her and waited for her to continue, but his stillness only seemed to amplify the queen's anger.

"Don't you see, Aemond?" she had continued, grabbing his arm as he'd stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back, looking over her head. "She is Rhaenyra's sister, more than yours! Open your eye, boy!" his mother had exclaimed. That made him look at her again.

"SHE is my father's daughter. SHE has shown me and your other children nothing but kindness and love, mother," he'd said with conviction, leaving no doubt about his affection for his older half-sister. The look of shock on his mother's face told him how unexpected this was to Alicent Hightower, that her most loyal and steadfast son would disregard her opinion.

"I don't know what happened between you two on that island," she'd said hoping that he would fill the holes, but he kept that memory to himself, like most of what truly mattered to him. "But do you actually believe she would stand beside you against Rhaenyra when time comes?" she'd continued some long moments later and touched the only unknown fact that kept him from running to Alaera's door even now. His lack of answer had amplified his mother's resolve to point all that stood against his deepest desire. "For the love of the Seven, Aemond, she's ELEVEN years older than you, my sweet boy!" she'd said coming close to him and taking his face in her hand and forcing him to look at her. When he'd finally met her stare, desperation had been obvious in both her voice and and her eyes. He hated causing her so much distress. He'd lived his life doing his absolute best to make his mother proud, as it had been clear to him how many other difficulties she'd encountered in her marriage to his father and in managing his older brother, Aegon.

He'd left his mother's room without a word. He felt it made no sense to recount to her all the times through his entire life when Alaera had been a true and loving sister to him, how she'd always tried to make him smile, how she'd encouraged him to try again no matter how many times he'd failed at something, be it learning his letters, riding a horse, speaking High Valyrian or bonding a dragon. Never had disappointment shown on her face when looking at him. But none of that would matter to his mother, only her being the true sister of Rhaenyra, his mother's old childhood friend who'd betrayed her trust in some unforgivable way he was not aware of. Once again, it was Rhaenyra who stood between him and what he wanted. His hate for his oldest half-sister only increased. That whore not only birthed bastards that now were ahead of him in the line of succesion to the Iron Throne of the Targaryens, but also most probably held the loyalty of the woman he knew was meant for him. Although the hour was late, he could not find the peace to lay in his bed and close his eyes. He stopped resisting and went to her door. He knocked a few times but no answer came.

"Alaera, I'm coming in," he said and pushed the door open. He looked around her room but could not find her anywhere. Only a couple of candles burned but the room looked just as uninhabited as it had a few weeks ago when he'd last visited it. On the table by the window he found an open book, the same she'd left there before departing the last time, "A History of the Targaryen Dynasty". He took it and read a few lines from the pages it was opened on. It described the death of Aegon Targaryen the Uncrowned together with his dragon Quicksilver at the hand of his uncle Maegor Targaryen flying Balerion the Black Dread who had usurped his nephew's throne almost a century ago. Last time he had been here the book had been closed, he knew that for sure. 

He decided to give her the space she probably needed and left her room without noticing that the object of all his thoughts was sitting quietly on the balcony's side ledge, resting her back on the outside wall of her room, one leg stretched before her, the other dangling from the outer brink.