The Snow Princess - Aemond Targaryen

Forty Three

"Have you been eating, Alyarra?" Aemond asked, though she darted her eyes away from him and to the happenings of the courtyard. She did not wish to speak of this now, her head was throbbing and she felt like she needed poppy milk to calm down. Food. She had forgotten what it was like to eat and enjoy it.

"Yes." She lied. She had barely eaten two bites of food in the last four days. She couldn't eat, when she did she remembered Catherryn's headless body and threw up instantly.

"And Baelon? How has he been doing? I've missed my son terribly." Aemond said lovingly and with an eager smile. There was nothing to be smiling about though. Alyarra wanted to say.

"Good." Alyarra lied. She hadn't seen Baelon in days. It was not that she did not want to see her son. It was all she wanted. But she could not do it, not physically and not emotionally. She was unable to care for herself, how could she care for her babe?

Aemond eyed his wife intently. She was not well, he could tell. And with good reason, she was mourning. He could not blame her. But there was something else in her eyes. She was out of it. She was not here in the present.

Before Aemond could inquire further, Criston Cole had approached the pair. He gave Alyarra a curt nod and turned to the Prince Regent. "Your grace, the court is awaiting in the Great Hall for the announcement of our victory and your crowning." Criston spoke, and Aemond nodded. He was eager to sit the throne.

He put out his arm for his wife, which she took solemnly, and escorted her to the Great Hall. Alyarra did not speak, whilst Aemond talked all the way there with Criston Cole. Her head was throbbing and she really wanted to feel numb again.

Once there the green nobles clapped as soon as the Prince Regent walked in through the doors. They cheered for Aemond, calling him all sort of good names. "Our savior!" "The King!" "The Rightful Heir!" He planted a kiss to the crown of Alyarra's head and moved to the throne, sitting on it with a smirk on his face.

Alyarra watched him, and seemingly he was born to sit the throne. He looked like he fit in it perfectly, the crown sitting on his head as if it were made for him. Criston Cole announced their victory and their new ruler, but Alyarra was barely listening. She stared at Aemond with no expression on her face, her mind elsewhere.

"The crown suits you, your grace." Criston would tell Aemond with a smirk and a nod. To which he replied, "It looks better on me than it ever did on my brother."

Alyarra watched him bask in his new title, an ever lasting grin adorning his face as the lords and ladies of the realm moved to congratulate him on his victory. She knew this was what he had wanted all along, yet it did not seem right to Alyarra. Though she would never speak her thoughts on the matter.

He was preoccupied with the court, so Alyarra slipped out of the Great Hall without anyone noticing her absence.

Aemond stayed there, happily sitting on the throne whilst everyone buzzed around the new head of their side. But then it died down and the court began, meaning that Aemond would sit in the throne for hours on end listening to his lords and ladies petitions and notions.

When court ended Aemond would hang around with the council, before being pulled aside by Maester Orwyle. "Your grace, congratulations on your victory. I am sure that we are ever so close to defeating your sister." The maester would say with a smile. Aemond chuckled smugly and nodded.

"You are more than correct, maester. We are close to defeating the whore on Dragonstone." Aemond stated with a grin. And the maester chuckled before turning serious for a moment.

"And how is your ladywife? Have you been able to see her, your grace?" The maester asked with a worried expression, making him frown slightly.

"She came to see me upon my arrival. Why? Did something happen whilst I was away?" Aemond asked Orwyle, who sighed and nodded his head.