Salvation | HOTD

6

The sound of muted laughter and the tinkling of porcelain greeted Aemond as he sought refuge in Helaena's chambers. Smarting from the jibes of Rhaenyra's children and the taunts of his elder brother Aegon, the ten-year-old Targaryen longed for the solace that only his sister's presence could provide.

Upon entering, Aemond's frown softened at the sight of Helaena, eleven years old and exuding a quiet strength that seemed to cloak her like a regal mantle. She sat on the floor, surrounded by plush cushions, engaged in a seemingly carefree tea party with Aemma, the six-year-old princess who never failed to bring a smile to her face.

Aemma, with her eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement, animatedly showcased a new doll—a recent addition to her collection. The doll's intricate features seemed to captivate Helaena's attention, her expression a mix of family indulgence and genuine interest. The tableau painted a picture of warmth and camaraderie, a stark contrast to the cold corridors echoing with the mockery Aemond sought to escape.

As Aemond hesitated in the doorway, the atmosphere in Helaena's chambers felt like a haven—a sanctuary where the weight of dragon-related slights and bastards could momentarily be set aside in favor of the innocent joy shared between siblings.

Helaena, ever perceptive, noticed Aemond lingering in the doorway. With a gentle wave, she invited him to join the impromptu tea party. Though she was not known for an abundance of words, her eyes sparkled with a rare warmth, a silent assurance that in this haven of familial bonds, they were united against the world.

Aemond, reluctantly drawn into the cozy scene, approached the girls. Helaena gestured for him to sit, her demeanor conveying a quiet happiness that seemed to envelop the room. Aemma, oblivious to the undercurrents of family politics, beamed with innocence, offering a doll for Aemond's inspection.

In that moment, Aemond's reservations softened. Aemma, with her silver hair and Targaryen features, appeared every bit the true scion of House Targaryen. Despite the complicated lineage and the shadows of Rhaenyra's children casting doubts, Aemma stood as an exception, untouched by the whispers of illegitimacy.

For a fleeting moment, Aemond let go of the bitterness that marred his view of Rhaenyra's offspring.

Aemma, perceptive beyond her years, paused in her animated play with the doll. Looking up at Aemond with those wide, purple eyes, she sensed a heaviness in his demeanor. Breaking the playful atmosphere, she asked in her innocent tone, "Why are you sad, Uncle?"

Aemond, taken aback by the child's acute awareness, hesitated for a moment. Then, perhaps finding solace in Aemma's genuine curiosity, he chose honesty. "Your brothers and mine, they spend most days tormenting me for fun," he admitted, his voice carrying vulnerability and frustration.

In the simplicity of Aemma's inquiry, Aemond found a rare moment of sincerity. The weight of his troubles, momentarily shared with a six-year-old princess, hung in the air as they navigated the delicate dynamics of childhood within the formidable walls of the Red Keep.

Aemma's innocent gaze bore into Aemond's eyes, a silent inquiry that cut through the air, with a sadness that belied her tender age, she asked, "Is it because you don't have a dragon, Uncle Aemond?"

Aemond, caught off guard by the blunt question, felt a surge of anger flicker in his eyes. How could a six-year-old comprehend the complexities of dragon bonds? She, with her own dragon born in the cradle with her, had a connection he could only imagine. The mere mention of dragons, a topic fraught with familial tension, stirred a mix of envy and resentment within him.

He stared at Aemma, his expression masked with a blend of anger and inner turmoil. Her dragon, shrouded in mystery and hidden from the pit, was said to be as black as the night itself, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. The contrast between their connections to these mighty creatures emphasized the divide within the Targaryen family, a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

Aemond, sidestepping the direct query about his lack of a dragon, redirected the conversation. "Why doesn't your dragon stay in the pit with the others?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Aemma's eyes sparkled with a child's excitement as she explained, "She stays on Dragonstone so she can grow big and strong without chains." The simplicity of her words painted a vivid picture of a dragon free to roam and flourish, unburdened by the confines of the pit. The notion of a dragon growing strong on Dragonstone, unrestrained by the chains that bound others, hinted at a freedom and power that Aemond, with his dragonless existence, couldn't help but envy.

Aemond, intrigued by the notion of a dragon enjoying freedom beyond the Red Keep, pressed further. "Does the king allow that?" he inquired, his gaze penetrating as he sought to understand the dynamics of dragon care. The question held a subtle undercurrent, reflecting both curiosity and a tinge of skepticism about such liberties granted to a dragon.

Aemma, engrossed in the simple play of making her doll walk back and forth, responded in a childlike way. "Dragons aren't slaves, Uncle Aemond. They can do what they want," she explained.

What a weird girl.

A lingering silence enveloped the room as Aemma delicately placed her doll aside. The gravity of the moment intensified when Helaena, her typically reserved sister, inquired about the name she bestowed upon her dragon.

With measured solemnity, Aemma answered, "Sun Eater." The name hung in the air, carrying a weight that hinted at a deeper significance. Aemond was going to ask why she had named her dragon Sun Eater, but the girl went back to playing with her doll.

Instead Aemond decided to retreat to a corner near the comforting warmth of the crackling fire. Clutching a book in hand, he sought solace in the written words that could momentarily transport him away from the intricacies of dragon politics and familial tensions.

As Aemond settled into his corner, he could still hear the soft murmur of the girls' laughter and the gentle clink of porcelain against porcelain. Helaena and Aemma continued their tea party, seemingly undisturbed by the currents of emotion that had rippled through the room moments ago.

The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the pages of Aemond's book as he delved into its world, finding refuge in the tales that unfolded before him. The distant sound of laughter and the carefree atmosphere of the tea party served as a bittersweet backdrop, a reminder of the simpler bonds that could exist within the intricate tapestry of Targaryen life.

In the soft glow of the firelight, Aemond occasionally stole glances at the girls, finding an unexpected warmth within him whenever he witnessed a rare smile gracing Helaena's face. The simplicity of their tea party, untouched by the complexities of politics and dragons, painted a fleeting picture of cozy joy.

As the shadows deepened and night settled in, Aemma stood up, declaring that she had to go home. The warmth of her presence lingered as she shared a heartfelt hug with Helaena. Then, in a surprising turn of events, she bounced over to Aemond, her happiness radiating, and insisted on a hug.

Aemond, caught off guard by the sudden embrace, stood frozen for a moment, watching as Aemma happily left the room. The unexpected gesture lingered in the air, leaving him with a mix of surprise and a subtle stir of emotions that defied the usual solemnity of the Red Keep.

a/n: lore chapter