"PRINCESS! IT IS ENTIRELY too early in the morning for this!" A fire-haired woman called out, skirts bunched up in her hands as she burst into the room. "You must get up, there is much to do!" She called again, ocean blue eyes looking at the bed where the princess still lay at eight in the morning.
"By the Seven, no," Aemma groaned, peeking her eyes out of the elaborately sewed quilt. "Must I get up so early, Arwyn?"
"Yes, you must, My Princess," The auburn haired lady sighed, hands her hips. "Come, lest you be late and Queen Alicent will blame me for that."
Aemma could hear the clicks of Arwyn's shoes on the floor, and could feel the sudden harsh light of the sun, along with it's pleasent warmth, and all of a sudden it was warming her through her nightgown, seeing as Arwyn had pulled the covers off of Aemma.
A groan escaped her lips, but she forced herself up, feet hitting the cold floor and suddenly sending her into a shock of reality. In only eight hours , she would no longer be the Dragon-Maid of King's Landing , yet the wife of Prince Aegon.
"The Queen requests your presence in her chambers, princess," Arwyn said again, opening a wooden wardrobe where a servant would place the princess's clothes for the morning the night before.
A sigh escaped her. "Must I? I have hardly just woken up?" Despite the shock the cold floor sent into her, Aemma felt as if she was still fatigued. She didn't know if it was true fatigue or not.
Arwyn returned the sigh with almost as much dramatic flare as Aemma. "Yes, your grace. The queen is your stepmother."
»»————- ♔ ————-««
Something in Aemma dreaded this. She looked to the servants and noble people who bowed as she walked through the corridors, only to stand up and resume their conversations as soon as she exited the room. It was only a reminder of her status and what was to become of her.
A woman meant to breed heirs.
No. She wouldn't allow herself to be that, Aemma only reaffirmed it as she headed Alicent's call.
The large door to the Queen's chambers intimidated Aemma. Once, they belonged to her biological mother. A woman that she only heard of a couple times, in stories and wistful longing from her father. Maybe Queen Aemma was gentle, kind. Maybe Queen Aemma was everything that a queen should be.
Aemma was unsure if she was talking about herself or her mother.
"Step-mother?" Aemma called as she knocked on the door.
"Aemma!" Alicent's voice called back, of which she could tell had lit up when she heard Aemma's voice.
Aemma gently pushed the door open, a small smile spreading on her face as she saw her step mother.
"Aemma, come, sit with me." Alicent said, green eyes cast down to the small lounge she was sitting on for a moment before looking back up to her step daughter. Her own brown hair was down her back, only half ready for the day ahead of her.
Aemma simply nodded as she sat down, looking up at the older woman.
"How are you feeling today?" A simple question Alicent asked, but it felt as if it was a loaded one. If Aemma said no, she would get a frown and a doting look from Alicent. If she said yes, Alicent would light up, only pushing her further into the wedding preparation.
"Alright." Aemma replied simply.
"Nervous?" Alicent's slender fingers moved to tuck silver-gold hair behind the girl's ear. "You know, I understand. I was not much younger than you are now when I married your father."
Aemma nodded. Alicent was only sixteen when she got married, Aemma was newly seventeen.
"I might be." Her answers were short. An attempt to try and avoid the anxiety bubbling in her chest as a million thoughts flew through her mind.
"I was nervous as well." Alicent ran her fingers through Aemma's hair, gently tugging at a knot that Arwyn seemed to have missed in the back of her hair. "Marrying a king was not small affair, you know." She bit her tongue, trying as hard as she possibly could to not tug at Aemma's hair.
"I understand."
"Aemma." There it was. The concerned tone that she was trying to avoid. "Speak to me, please." Alicent looked down at her hair, still trying to run her fingers through it. "Is it the attention of all the Lords and Ladies in the land that scares you? Or marrying Aegon itself?"
Aemma opened her mouth, but hesitated, closing it again. Which was it? It was a question she could not answer. Usually, the young princess was all spitfire in her voice, but now she was as cold as the Northern winters.
"Aegon." She whispered.
"Oh, Sweet Summer Child." Alicent urged Aemma to turn to face her, which Aemma obliged. "I promise you, being a married woman is not as bad as it may seem at times."
Aemma frowned at that. She knew what she saw of Alicent and Viserys. Alicent acted more as a caretaker than a wife, only being a companion in words rather than in action. That is what Aemma wanted to avoid. A life caring for a man and his children that could care less about her.
"I know," Aemma sighed, shaking head. "I have seen Rhaenyra's first marriage. I do not wish to be her." It was a half truth. She had seen Laenor and Rhaenyra. Everyone knew what their children were. Bastards. Yet that is not what she cared about. She wanted a companion, not someone to just keep up appearances with.
Jacaerys Velaryon.
He was all who came to mind. The only man appropriate for Aemma to marry while still offering some sort of comfort. No. Aemma let out a sigh. No, it could not be. For Jacaerys was a bastard, and Alicent would never let them marry. Not that Aemma had thought of him to marry before this moment, not at all.
Everything started to feel so real.
"Aemma?" Only then did the Princess snap out of her thought. "Do not worry. Both your father and... your sister might be here as well." Rhaenyra did nothing to offer any excitement for Aemma, but it was a small comfort. Someone who knew the pain.
"That is good, I suppose."
Alicent pulled Aemma into a hug, arms tight around her step daughter's body.
»»————- ♔ ————-««
Aemma didn't know if she loved or hated the dress that she wore. It was a dress of green and gold, dragon designs intricately embroidered onto the green, and flowers embroidered onto the gold. Her hair was long and down, small braids woven together. A way to show off the silver-gold hair most women would kill for in this continent.
It was beautiful, yes, and Aemma felt beautiful, but it was itchy. As she sat at the long table, lilac eyes scanning over the hall. It was elaborately decorated, dragon banners covered the walls, the iron throne in full display. A show of wealth and power.
Aemma said nothing. She looked around, nudging the food around on her plate. Her now husband to the side of her said nothing, gawking at some highborn lady instead. Not that Aemma minded. She would much rather have Aegon sleep with other women that her. His eyes will wander and ignore his lady wife. Her own eyes traveled and found men who she might like to dance with, ones who she might even imagine lives with. Ones that only danced in her head like a dream, taunting her.
Then she saw them.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, the Velaryon princes. It was clear to see that Rhaenyra was pregnant with her first child by Daemon, yet even despite that, Aemma could not take her eyes away from them. Perhaps she saw in Rhaenyra what she could not do.
What truly caught her eye was Jacaerys. It had only been a few months since they saw each other last, yet Aemma could feel a flush in her cheeks that only quickened when the family unit approached the long table.
Everyone sitting at the long table (Aemma, Alicent, Viserys, Aegon) stood as they approached. Aemma felt Aegon's hand slipping into hers, and it took all of her willpower to not jerk it away from her.
"Rhaenyra, Daemon!" Viserys called, the old man's smile was spread stupidly across his face as he saw his eldest child.
"Father, Queen Alicent," Rhaenyra said with a nod, looking to the brunette. "We come to wish the newlyweds our good wishes."
Aegon started to speak, but Aemma was faster "Thank you, sister," Aemma nodded to her sister. "We receive you with grace. Please, enjoy the festivities." Spoken like a queen.
Rhaenyra furrowed her brow. Aemma knew what it meant almost as soon as she saw it, yet she ignored it. "I wish both you and the Prince Aegon a fruitful wedding." One unlike her own.
"Thank you." Aegon spoke now, for the first time since he spoke his vows to her.
Rhaenyra nodded, her family turning away to find their places amongst the crowds. Aemma's face fell, the flush finding its way back to her veins and the small smile she once had fell to nothing but a slight frown. The brown hair of Jacaerys was the last thing her eyes lingered on before her attention was pulled away by Alicent.
Then time seemed to rush past. Aemma paid little attention to what was going on around her before someone brought her back to the present time.
"Prince Aegon." Jacaerys had approached the table, looking to Aegon.
'It's no use.' Aemma thought. 'He's already drowning in his cups.'
"Might I ask the Princess Aemma for a dance? I understand that you might not be interested." Jacaerys nodded, looking between Aegon and Aemma.
A bit of wine spilling from Aegon's cup, one could practically hear him rolling his eyes as the goblet hit the table. "Whatever you wish, Prince."
The smile returned on Aemma's face as she watched Jacaerys hold out a hand to her. "Thank you, my prince." She beamed, rising from her seat to walk around the table and take Jacaerys's hand, who then leased her into the middle of the dancing.
"Skorkydoso ēza aōha Valyrīha sȳrkta, Jacaerys?" How has your Valyrian improved, Jacaerys? A simple question, but as the smile on Aemma's face grew, it was obvious that she was trying to tease Jacaerys.
"Rōvēgrī." Greatly. "Bē hae sȳz hae ao." Almost as good as you. Jacaerys's touch was conservative on the Princess, knowing eyes were on them. Gently, he took his hand to spin her.
Their speaking went silent for a moment, until Aemma and Jacaerys found themselves Ina more isolated part of the crowd. Nobody paid attention to their conversations, the lords and ladies looking for their own matches.
"Ao vestragon mundagon. Skoros jenigon ao, ñuha dārilaros?" You seem upset. What troubles you, my prince? Looking up at him, hands resting softly on his arm. An attempt to make it seem as if she was only dancing. This was only dancing, yes?
Jacaerys had avoided her gaze like it was the winter chills itself, his hands only going to where it would be appropriate for a sister. Both knew it was not what it was.
"Gaomagon daor... fret." Do not fret. Jacaerys hesitated, forgetting the Valyrian word for worry, so he simply replaced it with the common tongue word for it.
Aemma's brows furrowed, shaking her head. "Gaomagon daor hae naejot nyke." Do not lie to me. "Māzigon." Come. Aemma's hand slipped into his, urging him out of the large doors of the throne room.
Walking through the Red Keep, Jacaerys never once questioned where Aemma may be taking him. She only did stop when they were in a dark corridor, one that was not frequented.
"Do not lie to me, Jacaerys." Aemma repeated, her tone firm. "You are not exactly hard to read. I have been watching you most of the night!"
Moving from her grasp, Jacaerys brought a hand to rub her forehead. "A wedding day is bittersweet, you said it yourself." Short answers, like she had done with Alicent most of the day. "The loss of girlhood yet an entering into being a woman."
"You speak as if you know anything about it!" Aemma exclaimed, suppressing a laugh. "You have laughed not once this night, have not smiled. I am no fool." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
"I only repeat what you have said to me." Jacaerys retorted, trying his best to keep calm.
"You seem to care about this wedding more than I." Aemma rolled her eyes, glancing away from Jacaerys to pay more attention to the candles than the person in front of her.
Jacaerys let out a huff, blowing hot air from his nose. "How are you this dense, Aemma?" His words didn't seem to hold any malice, yet a genuine question. "It is because I care about you!" His hand went to rub his forehead, deep violet eyes looking to the floor before making contact with Aemma.
Aemma's eye roll was heavier now. "You care about me so much, yet why? If you cared, you would be happy for me." It was hard to say she was happy for herself.
"Do not play a fool." Jacaerys grabbed either of her arms, yet he was not rough. His touch was gentle, but the frustration could now be evidently heard in his voice. "You and I both know you are not one."
Aemma's expression fell like earlier. They both knew what he spoke of. Aegon was a drunken, whore loving prince. Anybody who looked at him knew it. A misery it would be to marry him. To be ignored until he decided he wanted an heir. It was exactly what Aemma disdained of her father.
Aegon and Viserys were more alike than they were different, no matter how much Aegon refuted it.
"I see." That was all Aemma could muster. She could feel her chest tightening. In quick succession, she blinked, finger nails picking at her cuticles. Aemma's breathing slowed to an almost concerning control. Jacaerys slowed in her mind, though he continued speaking. She could feel her face getting hotter as well.
Then, without thinking, Aemma's arms wrapped around Jacaerys. She held onto his waist tight, as if he might fall out of her grasp like sand.
"Aemma," He said quietly, hands still at his side. He started to move them, but he stopped. Aemma was now married. They should not be doing this.
"We can't," Jacaerys murmured, hands back on her shoulders. He made no effort to move, though. "You are Aegon's wife now. You are not mine, nor I am yours." If only it had happened a month earlier.
Aemma shushed him. Not loud, only a soft noise to urge him to stop speaking. Her head was practically buried into his chest, and yet they spoke no words to each other. Aemma could feel Jacaerys's hand smooth down her hair, braids now messy.
And here they stood for what felt like an eternity. Which was only a few minutes in reality, but Aemma would not admit that she had found herself so enthralled in the moment.
Suddenly, Aemma realized what she was doing. Pulling away from him, her face was red and puffy. As if he did not feel her heave, Aemma quickly moved a hand to wipe residue of tears off of her face, yet took one of his in hers.
"I'm sorry, Jacaerys," She stated.
Aemma's hand slipped out of his, and then she turned, back to the throne room.