Children of Dragons | Aemond Targaryen

II

The banquet hall was elaborately decorated. Thick drapery softened the harsh stones of the wall. Candles were spread out on the tables and hung from the chandeliers. It cast the room in a bright and warm glow. For all the world, it was a beautiful evening. Warm and inviting.

But for Aemma Velaryon, it was stifling. It was hard for her to remain seated at the high table facing the crowd of guests. Aegon and Helaena had been placed at the center of the table, King Viserys and Queen Alicent on their right. Aemma and Aemond had been seated on the left. She sat at the corner, grateful that she could be ignored, for the most part. She could not stand to see all the false smiles and receive the ill intended platitudes.

As soon as they had been seated, a group began assembling before them.

"Lord Tyland of House Lannister," a guard announced.

Tyland bowed low, "My king, my queen, princes, and princesses." His gaze lingered on Aemma before turning back to the king. "Allow me to be the first to congratulate House Targaryen in the betrothals of the children. I hope the feast is to your liking." Aemma studied him, the golden lion bared proudly across his chest. He seemed to wait for the king's response with baited breath, so desperately awaiting the gratitude of his king.

Aemma's grandfather nodded, "It is a most joyous occasion. I thank House Lannister for its generosity."

Tyland smiled wide, satisfied. He raised his voice, "To the next generation of House Targaryen. May they remain as fierce as their dragons and lead us to a triumphant tomorrow!"

There was a collective "huzzah" and applause spread throughout the room. Tyland bowed again before letting the next guest greet the nobility.

This started the long chain of greetings and congratulations. Aemma hardly said a word. Aemond did not speak to her and she did not speak to him. Though, there was a strange sort of comfort in knowing he sat by her side. When they were congratulated directly, she watched him compose himself before thanking them respectfully. Aemond was regal and aloof and everything that was expected of him. But as soon as someone offered their condolences for his injury, she watched as he caved in on himself, an angry look flickering across his features.

She had nearly forgotten the black patch across his eye. Not that she could not see it, but it seemed to suit him. It had become a part of him.

Aemma did not realize she had been watching him until his eye met hers. Heat flushed in her cheeks and she looked away. Aemond said nothing. A few minutes passed and he still said nothing. Aemma knew what he thought of her, how he hated her, hated that they had been betrothed, he could not even stand to be around her.

And she hated how much it bothered her. How he could be kind and supportive one minute, offering her a steady hand to hold, then silent and cold the next.

Sudden anger and embarrassment washed over her as the comfort she had reached for disappeared into the air.

But she held her tongue so she would not cry.

She wanted her mother. She wanted to lay in her arms and feel her warm arms lull her to sleep.

After what felt like hours had passed, the flow of guests approaching the table had finally ceased. She heard a quiet voice from the corner to her left.

"Princess Aemma Velaryon." It was Lord Larys, leaning his weight against his wooden cane. Aemma tensed, she clasped her hands in a ball in her lap. "On behalf of House Strong, I would like to, personally, congratulate you on your betrothal."