The Snow Princess - Aemond Targaryen

Fifty One

SEVEN MOONS LATER

Seven moons came and went, seven moons of healing— of trying to forget everything she had endured under the thumb of her husband. Many things changed in Alyarra's life in seven moons. Apart from healing, she had grown into her role of motherhood rather well, she had thrown herself into her son— and into her newborn baby girl. Catherryn, she had called her— a beautiful and healthy girl. The birth had been easy, barely taking two hours.

The first few months without Aemond seemed like hell. It was hard to get used to life without him, to life without his ruling and love. It was hard for her to realize how messed up their relationship was, to realize that she did not deserve the mistreatment he had subjected her to. She had known Aemond for almost two years, two years of emotional torture— of emotional turmoil. He had drained her of all that she was, he had taken her youth and made it his. And even then, she still dreamt of him— of holding him again.

Alyarra had healed her heart, or at least she kept trying to— but every so often, he came to her in dreams. Even when she tried to forget him, she saw him in corners— he stared at her, smirked at her. His ghost watched over her, and over their children. What died did not stay dead, just like with Catherryn— she saw him everywhere. Sometimes she talked to him, sometimes when she could not find sleep— she would go deep into the snowy forest and scream at the sky.

She would question him, ask him why he treated her like he did, why he left her that night— why he didn't love her in a better way. But she never got her answer, and she had to come to terms with the fact that she never would know it.

She saw their relationship for what it was and she could not make it go away— the pain and hurt. Aemond haunted her being, and she couldn't make him go away by making him a villain. No one teaches one what to do when your husband hurts you.

Alyarra also worked on fixing her strained relationship with her brother, it took time— as she had been conditioned to see him as an enemy by her late husband, but piece by piece she was able to forgive Cregan for everything that had happened. It was not easy, not when she had loathed him for months on end, but she did forgive him. He was family, after all— and the only protection she had left. Cregan loved his sister more than he did anything on Earth, and he worked more than hard to get her to trust in him again.

Cregan took care of Alyarra, and he took great care of Baelon and Catherryn. He dotted on his niece and nephew, as he knew that he was the only father figure they would likely ever have.

The war had come to a head when Rhaenyra was aprehended and murdered by Aegon, who was able to overcome most of his illness and take the throne once more. Though even if Rhaenyra was dead, the Blacks did not cease to fight for her cause. Cregan being one of them, because he had made an oath— and even if she was dead, he would never let it go.

Alyarra was sitting in her apartments trying to feed Catherryn when a knock came to the door. "Come in," She would hum, and in came her brother carrying in a wooden trunk. He set the trunk in a corner of the chambers and moved towards his sister, kneeling in front of where she was sitting.

"How is the cutest little lady in all of the land?" Cregan cooed, taking the newborn's tiny hand in his. Alyarra smiled softly and looked at her brother, "She has been fussy since this morrow, she does not wish to eat. The wetnurse is supposed to bring over some milk porridge to see if she takes to it." she answered him.

"And Baelon?" He asked, his eyes drifting to the toddler who was playing on the floor with a wooden dragon. "He's very agreeable, as always." Alyarra answered with a small shrug. Cregan smiled and took a deep breath, standing up and moving to the trunk he had brought over.