Aelyria Targaryen is the product of Rhaenyra's Targaryen wedding night escapade. She grows up in King's Landing amongst vipers and spiders, and not even her silver hair can save her from the rumors of bastardy.
After her brother Luke takes Aemond's...
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The King languished in his sickbed, his body weak with disease, slowly rotting away with each passing day.
For Aemond, it was a struggle to remember a time when his father wasn't plagued by sickness. The King's presence had always been ill, robbed of energy and strength.
Queen Alicent and Helaena maintained a vigil at his bedside, their expressions etched with worry and exhaustion. Aegon, ever the indifferent son, poured himself a goblet of arbor red with an air of detachment.
Aemond watched his brother, sniffing with contempt and disdain. He turned away from him as he wandered close to his father's replica of Old Valyria. Fascination bloomed inside him, studying every angle of the relics of a bygone era. He imagined a world where the former glory of the lost empire still existed.
How different their lives could be.
There was a sense of destiny, of a higher purpose waiting to be revealed, but the details were eluding him for now.
The wooden doors cracked open to reveal his half-sister Rhaenyra, coming to visit the King. His heart jumped, tentatively looking behind her as his eyes searched for his niece, but his half-sister was alone.
Did Aelyria tell her mother what he'd said? Would he face repercussions for his words? Would he be punished for it?
No. He was not sorry. He was not afraid.
He only told the truth—the truth that everyone seemed so desperate to hide like dirt under the rug, as his mother had always pointed out.
Rhaenyra brushed her steps into the room, stilling herself briefly to look at him, and Aemond thought his punishment was soon to come.
His half-sister approached with poise, eyeing him closely as if she had something to say, but oddly enough, she merely smiled, an unfamiliar warmth emanating from her that he had never witnessed before.
Then she turned her attention to Aegon, and Aemond could almost see the disapproval in her eyes as she glared at Aegon's slouched form in his chair and the goblet of wine in his hand. She walked past them until she reached the King, taking a seat at his bedside, near Helaena and Queen Alicent.
"My King, how are you faring?" Rhaenyra's voice was gentle as she addressed their ailing father.
"I am well, my dear daughter," Viserys reassured, his breath raspy. "You mustn't worry."
Alicent shook her head, her gaze now fixed on Rhaenyra, who had been previously overlooked by his mother.
The love that both women shared for the king was something that always brought them together, in spite of their previous quarrels.
Aemond remembered when once Ser Criston openly insulted Rhaenyra in front of his mother, and she had scowled at her sworn shield. If looks could kill, then Ser Criston would have been a dead man by now.
