Aella Targaryen wed on the anniversary of her father's death. To her cousin, nonetheless, continuing the long-standing tradition of her family to marry their relatives. It was a day that was meant to bring joy and overshadow the sorrow that had purs...
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The moon And the stars Tried their best But I couldn't Look away From you
– d.j
°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°
Twelve large branches extended from the pale ivory tree trunk that was the weird wood. Ruby leaves sprouted at their ends, casting a vermilion glow as they blocked the sunlight from directly reaching her. Splayed out on the roots was where one would find Princess Aella Targaryen most days, an opened book splayed over her stomach and eyes closed. Shallow breaths would raise her chest slightly, the only movement she would show for hours on end.
The pleasantly warm breeze that came with the early days of the ninth month of the year would allow her to float like driftwood on a calm sea. It was a relaxing sort of limbo, somewhere between complete sleep and the deep dive into the pit that was her emotions. One she would rather not explore.
It had been six months since the pyres of Queen Alyssane and Princess Daella had been lit. Six months of edging towards something that could be called better. Six months of not actually knowing if it would be that. Six months of everyone walking on eggshells around her as if she would break at the smallest of discomforts. If she was being honest, she thought that it was a possibility.
King Jaehaerys was too busy running the realm, as was the norm. He had never had time to spare, and now he would rather bury himself in piles of paperwork than allow his mind to dwell on the death of his beloved wife. Rhaegon was as he always was. Comforting if she wanted him to be, out of sight if she did not want him to be there. They still slept in the same bed, waking almost every night due to his nightmares and her feeble attempts to lull him back to sleep. But some days he would rather spend his nights studying all he could get his hands on. Did Viserys need him to find something about Old Valyria? He would do it. His father needed help pouring over the laws and traditions of the realm? He didn't need to be told twice.
And Daemon... well, there was not much to say about him. They would see each other at formal events, family dinners, and pass each other in the hall or in the Dragonpit. A short exchange of hellos was all they ever spoke about, the occasional 'pass the salt' from across the table. It was utterly maddening, to be so close yet so far at the same time. Aella felt as if she could simply reach out her hand and he would be there, but when she attempted to do so, his body would turn into mist and her fingers would pass right through him.
Perhaps she had been too harsh that night during the wake. If she had accepted him with open arms, as he clearly wanted her to do so, would it be better? Would she find herself happier, more content? The words he had uttered to her swam around in her brain constantly. I loved you. Loved. Did that mean he did not anymore? Was she so hung up on her own feelings that she projected them onto him? Did he not speak with her because there was simply nothing to speak about anymore?
