Our Violet Delights

《Chapter 6》

She dreams of dragon flight and empty beaches and blood on her lips.

In her dreams, she is Arrax, feasting on a lamb and spreading her wings beneath the heat of the sun. 

In her dreams, she can smell salt in the air and feel pain in her limbs.

When she wakes, it is to a cold room and vipers at her throat.

“You must write to your lady mother, Princess.” Otto Hightower is leaning over her and pushing her to put ink to parchment. “Don’t you want to let her know of your health? Of how you’re treated here?”

“My mother has an imagination, Lord Hand. She doesn’t need my words to know what being trapped feels like.”

“Do you wish for the realm to descend into war?” The Hand asks. “Do you wish to see your family’s heads on spikes?”

“I wish for justice.” Aemma pushes the ink pot off the table, watching as it clatters on the ground. “And if the gods are good, it will not be my mother’s head on a spike at the end of this farce.”

Queen Alicent has a softer approach.

“Don’t you miss them?” Alicent asks, pushing parchment in front of her. “Surely you wish to know how your brothers fare? Little Aegon has celebrated a nameday, I believe.”

Aemma scowls at the mention of her brothers nameday. She had spent the day thinking of little Aegon, too young to understand the cruelty of his kin. He would have been spoilt; she imagines. Aemma thinks of lemon cakes and laughter, rides on dragonback with Daemon and soft smiles from her mother. She yearns for her home, for her family, for her mother and yet she pushes the parchment away. “He celebrates a nameday every year.”

“And what of Jacaerys?” Alicent pokes. “He would be distressed to hear his only sister taken hostage. Don’t you wish to comfort him?”

Aemma’s eyes snap up to the Queen and she imagines her body as it burns. “Words won’t comfort my brother. Justice will. And it will come with fire and blood.”

After a lifetime of swallowing her anger, Alicent Hightower is a master at hiding her fury. Aemma wonders what it must be like to be a prisoner to your own feelings. Where the King decayed in front of the court, Alicent Hightower rots from the inside as she becomes a slave to her own lies. It’s with surprise that Aemma watches her lean down and sneer openly.

“If you do not write, we will do so for you and your mother will accept the terms we offer,” Alicent hisses. “Whatever Rhaenyra Targaryen may be, she will not allow harm to come to her only daughter.”

“And is that what you plan to do to me, grandmother?” Aemma mocks. “Harm me?”

The Queen offers her a scowl before sweeping out of the room, leaving empty parchment and a stubborn princess.

~

“You have angered your captors, niece.”

Aemma’s shoulders tense at the sound of Aemond entering her chambers. She faces the wall, staring into the stone. Aemond is desperate to see her eyes. He’s thought about them all day, trapped in the small council with his head full of her. He wondered what would await him when he came for her. What would she say when he came to her for their first night together? Would she welcome him with more pain or would she have questions this time?

He did not expect silence.

“My grandfather says you refuse to write to your mother.” He places a plate of sugared plums on the table. “And that you refuse to eat.”

She gathers her knees to her chest.

“Mother was quite wroth with you, but you needn’t be scared. She wouldn’t touch a hair on your head. She doesn’t have the stomach for bloodshed.”