BLOOD IN THE WATER || aemond targaryen

》CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE, deeper than blood

The bright Hightower green was familiar enough, the painted shield sitting in the hands of one of the queen's nephews. But the other man across the field was clad in the armor gifted to him upon being knighted, bronze armor that Alayne knew was etched in runes.

She sat up in her seat as the Hightower knight trotted over to the royal box with his lance in hand. Every so often, a knight would approach the box and ask the favor from one of the royals. So far, a Baratheon had asked for the favor of his cousin Princess Rhaenys, a Mormont had asked for Myranda's, and the insufferable Lannister who had just been carried off the field had borne the favor of Queen Alicent.

It obviously hadn't done much for him.

"Princess Helaena, it would be a great privilege to ride with your favor," the Hightower knight asked of his cousin.

From his seat next to his wife, Aegon squirmed as he sent a glance to his brother below him. The elder prince and princess were on Aemond's right but seated next to their grandfather Otto, who sat at the king's side.

Alayne watched as Helaena uncomfortably stood, clutching her hands together as she crossed to where her favor was being kept. It was a pretty thing, red and green leaves intertwined and tied together with two cream colored plumes.

Helaena approached the railing, sliding her favor onto the lance. "Good luck to you, cousin," she murmured quietly before crossing back over to her seat.

A frown grew on Alayne's face as she noticed the exchange between Aemond and Aegon. It seemed to her that they were quite protective over their sister, which confused her greatly. If she remembered correctly, Aegon didn't care very much for a betrothal to his sister, and in fact, he'd hardly interacted with her at all during Alayne's first visit several years ago and even now. So why was he so concerned if his cousin asked for his wife's favor?

Alayne rolled her eyes. Men and their stupid, territorial whims.

But Aemond on the other hand was merely protective of his sister, which Alayne understood. Helaena was a sweet and lovely young woman, always had been, but her sensitive nature made her susceptible and almost vulnerable to an extent.

Alayne would be quite protective, too, and when Aemond slowly straightened from his leisurely lounge against the armrest of his chair—the one closest to her—she couldn't ignore the blossom of warmth that bloomed in her chest. His gaze never left his sister's form until she was back in her seat.

He must've felt her stare, for he turned his head to look at her, and Alayne quickly averted her eyes.

Strange, that Willam hadn't asked for a lady's favor.

Both knights lined up in their places as the drums began to sound, lowering their visors, and then they were off. Their horses sped down the field, kicking up sandy dirt.

Hightower's lance crashed into Willam's shield, scraping the bronzy-orange paint.

Alayne gasped, and out of instinct, she grabbed hold of Aemond's hand.

His bright violet-blue eye found hers, not harsh or cruel as it usually was, but alarmed and panicked. Alayne couldn't help but notice as his hand drifted toward the dagger on his belt, ready to strike.

He was ready to defend her if the need arose, she realized. But was it for her, or out of pure instinct?

Then she saw the familiar mold of the handle of his dagger, one that matched hers. But while hers was made of bronze and had a sapphire embedded in the end, his was made of silver and was unadorned.

But now it seemed that had changed. His dagger now had the tiniest of stones scattered across the handle, glittering like stars in the light.

Sapphires.