The Prince and His Flower

F I V E

As night fell, Aemma waited in her chambers for her father to arrive. Laenor had suggested that he and Aemma train that night, as he felt particularly restless, and wished to spend time alone with his daughter. Aemma had agreed with such enthusiasm, he wondered if she would sit by the door all night waiting for him to arrive.

Aemma had felt somewhat left out in the past fortnight as her mother and father fawned over her new brother Joffrey, and although she loved him, she loved the attention she received from her parents as their youngest. Luke had tried to cheer her up, but he knew it was futile. Aemma sat on her bed wearing a tunic and trousers she had taken from Luke as she played with her wooden dragon. She imagined she was on Terrax herself, flying over Blackwater Bay and towards Dragonstone, her family's ancestral home.

"Are you ready?" Laenor quietly slipped inside her room, holding something behind his back. 

"Yes, Father. I thought I was going to die of boredom before you arrived." That was a lie, Aemma was very content playing with her dragon, but she loved theatrics. 

"Sorry for making you wait, but I had to pick something up. I have a present for you." Laenor smiled as Aemma stood up excitedly. 

"Really? What is it? Can I guess?" Aemma was about to fire out another question before Laenor raised his hand to stop her. 

"Hold out your hands and close your eyes." Laenor took the present from behind his back and placed it in Aemma's outstretched hands. 

"Open your eyes, Aemma," Laenor said. Aemma gasped as she looked at a sword in her hands, sheathed in a leather scabbard. She looked towards her father, who nodded approvingly. Slowly, Aemma unsheathed the sword, mesmerized by its appearance. It was a sword made for adults, Aemma could judge by its length, but it was oddly light. In the candlelight, the metal appeared to be black, and as Aemma inspected it closely, she could see ripples throughout the metal where it was folded back on itself in the process of forging it, and a hilt made of dragon bone. 

"Father, this is beautiful." Aemma lightly moved the sword in her hand, rotating her wrist. 

"It's Valyrian steel. Nothing is as sharp or hard as it." Laenor smiled proudly, happy his daughter liked the gift. He had his sister Laena buy it from a merchant in Essos, who claims he got it from Qohor. After Aemma was done inspecting the sword, she carefully sheathed it and placed it on the bed before jumping into her father's arms. He swung her around and squeezed her tightly. 

"Thank you." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. As he set her down, he glanced towards the sword.

"You know, all swords need a name." He said as Aemma pursed her lips together as she thought of one. 

"Dragon's Breath." She decided. If she were ever in a battle without Terrax, she wanted her own Dragon's Breath to fight with. Laenor nodded, approving of the name. 

"I think that is a lovely name. Now, let's see how you fight with it." Laenor and Aemma made their way to the training grounds, which were illuminated by the moonlight.

"You want me to run around the training grounds? Four times?" Aemma stared at her father as if he asked her to walk into a dragon's mouth. 

"You need to warm up your muscles or else you'll risk a sprain," Laenor said. In a real battle, there would never be the chance to warm up your muscles, but Aemma would never be in a battle, Laenor would make sure of it. Aemma groaned and nearly began to protest again but closed her mouth. She had been the one to ask her father to train her in the beginning, she can't complain now.

Aemma threw herself on the ground in front of her father's feet, her chest heaving as she sucked in each breath of air. 

"You never make Luke and Jace run." Aemma glared up at her father as he laughed.