The True and The Brave

𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

[AN: So everything is coming together. Y'all I'm sorry if i deviated from the main plot, but I had to do it as sense of poetic justice. However, the crown has many burdens which Aemma does not want. She is almost forced to be queen. Please take in mind her character arc and try to imagine is the best you can. I've gotten messages of people hating the last chapter and demanding me to change it. Or that I've ruined the experience. I'm sorry that you feel that way, but there are a thousand more fics that will probably have things that you don't like, but it doesnt mean unabashed rudeness or negativity. We do this for our readers and at least myself, personal growth in a second language and devoted passion to a book/show. Please refrain from doing that, instead I urge you to continue showing the love you've always given this book, because truly, I am always happy to see your comments, laugh and cry with you.] [Now, that meltdown is over: we'll get to see more of Larys's motivations and so much tension. Don't worry y'all our man is soon to come too]

(btw if you have tech savy skills for like an edit or a book cover, please DM me bc I may be a gen z but sometimes I do act as a millenial with like editing and stuff)

"Your Grace", people called Aemma. 

Aemma had the crown on her head. A heavy visage and reminder that she is yet to be free. A punishment perhaps, for believing a fools dream. For trying to be happy. She felt as if this great war was drowning her, and there was no hand she could reach for without bringing them down to the murky waters. 

She did not want to share the burden of it. Not with Jace who had offered his support as her hand. Not to her sweet Luke who was besides himself when he heard of his mother and sister. Not Daemon who is still grieving on his own way by plotting a war. She needed her husband like she needed just one gasp of fresh air. Needed his strength and unyielding support and affection. 

She could not do this without him. Without the man who helped her find the light upon that dark path. 

"What is our standing?", Aemma asked, staring at the painted table that was alit. Because war was upon them. 

War was already upon them before if she died without leaving a single word. Because Larys Strong had killed her to incite the war. To fuel the anger. Because if the house of dragon blamed each other, then it would crumble from its glory. Dragons and riders alike. She would not be used as a piece in someone else's game. She was the grandmaster that always got in the last laugh. The last move. And that was what she did. Her last divine move. 

But now she was here, taking the punishments of unresolved love, and unyielding affection that had been given too late. Because her mother did love her in her own way, but Aemma could not find herself to do the same. The crown was no gift. It is a death sentence that will pass its due quicker than she could ride Seafyre out into Essos and never come back. 

"We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers", he said, staring in a trance. He too was taken aback by the sudden confirmation, by the change in the succesion. But Aemma Velaryon was a beast in the making, a lurching monster that would not be afraid to get her hands dirty in order to finish the job. 

"My lord husband secured the City Watch, Prince Daemon. At my behest. Aemond is supposed to command them from the inside—"

"Yet he isn't here. Where is Prince Aemond?", he asked, his tone feral.