Children of Dragons | Aemond Targaryen

Before: part 2

She could only hold out hope that Aemma, her only daughter, would find love and joy in the life predestined for a woman. Her thoughts traveled to her mother, who Aemma had been named after. She would be proud of her, the mother she herself had become. Watching her children now, she considered the luck and love she had gained over these ten years. She was lucky, when so many were not.

Rhaenyra scanned the gathering. Her husband in name alone, Laenor Velaryon, stood with his parents, who portrayed a strong front to the assembled crowd. Though, Laenor could not, already having excused himself twice to drink himself into a steady stupor on the shore.

Aemma and her boys spoke quietly to Laena's daughters, despair mutual between them all. However, her children mourned another loss.

Word had spread of a fire igniting the cursed fortress of Harrenhall, killing Ser Harwin Strong. Rhaenyra blinked away the memory. When she was told, she had rushed away to her dragon, Syrax, needing the biting winds to dry the tears that flowed too openly down her cheeks. The thought of Harwin's death brought tears to her eyes once again and she wiped them away abruptly only to meet eyes with Alicent.

Her dark eyes narrowed across the space, Ser Criston hovering at her shoulder. Rhaenyra dipped her head ever so slightly before looking away.

Only to find Daemon's eyes on her.

Everyone else faded away. Her husband. Her house. Her enemies. She might not have to face it alone.

The moment passed and Rhaenyra collected herself once more. She stole a glance at Alicent, who still shot daggers in her direction, and then at Daemon once more.

Alone no longer.

She almost sighed with relief.

⚔

Aemma was only able to tolerate the opinions and stares of the other Westerosi nobility because at least she was at a funeral.

She was not able to go to her father's funeral. If one was even held for him. She was not told if there was one at all.

Here, in the midst of her aunt's mourners, she mourned her father in secret. She could keep her head down, cry if she wanted to cry. But she kept it together, holding the boys close to her. She felt the alarming need to protect them. Her father's death left them vulnerable. She had heard the whispers floating around Dragonstone that rode the waves from the mainland. Harwin's death was too mysterious and too coincidental to discount the motives of others. He was killed. He had to. Her father was stronger than all the rest he couldn't have...

"Aemma?" Luke's quiet voice snapped her back to reality.

She had clenched her brother's cloak in her sudden anger. Aemma let go and wiped her face, anxious to not let anyone see her rush of emotion.

She gave Luke a smile, "It's alright." Aemma looked around, "Where's Jacaerys?"

Luke pointed a small finger to a nearby fire pit where Jace and his uncle Aemond stood across from each other. She watched Aemond give her brother a weak smile which Jace did not return. His smile fell and he turned away, blending into the crowd.

Aemma could not help but feel sorry for Aemond. He who was always trying to be better, be the best. Be everything he was expected to be and more. Everything his mother wanted.

And that was the problem.

He was being pulled in one direction. A yank on his young arm.

She could almost feel him slipping away. The young boy was slipping far away.

⚔

Aemond had had enough.

Enough of Aegon's drunken slumber on the steps of the Driftmark castle.