Children of Dragons | Aemond Targaryen

II

Out of the corner of her eye, Aemma saw Aemond turn to her. "Thank you," she nodded curtly.

"I know how hard it must be for you to be away from your family." He placed one palm across his heart, "and the loss of your father..." He shook his head, his weathered face shaking back and forth slowly.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper again. She knew what he was doing, what he was implying. He did not specify who her father was. Her hands had begun to shake as she knotted her fingers together.

The monster relished in the death of his brother, Harwin Strong, just as he did the death of Leanor Velaryon. Anything to weaken the Blacks that had posed a threat to his Green Queen.

Larys continued, some cruel part of him enjoying the anxiety he caused the trembling child "You must be proud to represent your House," he paused "...your mother. She would be proud to see you here on this night."

Aemma nodded. Her mother would be disgusted with her. To see the complacency with which Aemma sat amidst the Greens. She had been biting the inside of her cheek so hard she felt the taste of blood in her mouth.

The Lord leaned in ever closer and she breathed in his strange scent. It was a sort of dank smell, old and wet. She struggled to keep herself composed, to keep her nose from wrinkling in disgust.

"I will be seeing you, Princess."

Aemma kept her eyes on her plate as he suddenly disappeared. When he was gone, she loosed a breath.

She felt Aemond's eyes on her again. When she finally turned, she couldn't read the look on his face. The way he stared at her. Would he be considerate and supportive? Or would he be cruel and angry?

"Would you say something?" she said quickly, "Anything?" She tried to keep her voice low but she knew her desperation slipped a high pitch in her tone. She needed him. She needed his help, his composure, his aloofness in the face of such infuriating people with agendas and opinions.

"I have nothing to say to the likes of you." He turned away, refusing to look at her. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath.

Aemma stilled. She knew the king had banned anyone from speaking of this. She knew that with one word to him, Aemond would be punished for tarnishing the family name.

But that would be acknowledging him. And acknowledging the truth.

Aemma felt sick to her stomach. She told herself to carry on as usual. She moved around the food on her plate with her fork. But she could not take one bite without feeling it rise up in her throat.

Perhaps it was the spinning bodies delighting in the cruel twists of fate that led her here. Or perhaps it was Larys and Aemond, the words exchanged weighing her down. Or it was the dress, the dress that felt so wrong. Or the fact that everyone else at court could ignore what color her hair was when it was tucked away. Out of sight, out of mind.

In one swift motion, she pushed her chair back and walked away.

No one cared anyway. If she was out of sight, she too could be out of mind.

When Aemma stepped out of the banquet hall, a cool rush of air washed over her. She felt lighter away from the busyness and the people. In the sudden silence, she listened.

A chorus of quiet laughter came from down the hall. She waited until the laughs got louder. A group of children about her age or younger turned the corner.

For a moment, she thought they were going to run away from her, afraid of everything she was, everything she stood for. But instead, they laughed again, "Come play with us!" one said. She hesitated before joining them.