The True and The Brave

𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤

{AN: So...for those of you that always stay loyal to every update, from the bottom of my heart I wish to thank you. For those new readers, please continue to enjoy and if you could drop comments so I start knowing you, it would be amazing. I pride myself on always keeping up with people and readers, trying to reply to every comment (even in cryptic messages and emojis). Every comment is well recieved, even if its in spanish, english, italian, french, portuguese (or in my case spanglish).  Please keep on commenting and making my days of study a bit brighter]

[No Ghost Reading] (Please)

"King Aemond"

Aemond Velaryon sorted himself inside the tent that had been set up in Riverrun. Daemon had returned with the news of his wife. If the knife would've been wedged a rib higher, then he would have been left alone in this miserable existence. He nearly tored Daemon's arms by wanting to mount Vhagar and go back, but Aemma had told him those words that had him planted where he was, meeting some Lordlings.

"She said she is sorry, and that you are the person she trusts the most to be here and win the war. Your brother, Daeron, has been spotted flying near Harrenhal but he never attacks. As if he is waiting for something", Daemon says, half tempted to ride Caraxes and begone with the fucking dragon once and for all.

"And my wife? She's still at Driftmark? Is she healing?", he asked, as raw vulnerability on his voice.

"Yes. But of course, if you weren't another pain in my arse, I could've told you that Aemma apart from healing, is planning something. I do not know what it is, before you grace me with your questions. I've tried to ask Rhaena or Baela but they do not have knowledge of it either. But it was shit-eating scheming face..."

Aemond hummed, knowing all too well that face. That scheming face of her where her eyes would darken and daze in wanton plotting. If she did not tell anyone about it, it would be because it would be objected. Probably by him or Corlys. Her only true ally that was always behind her actions was Rhaenys...and now the weight of the decisions relied solely upon Aemma's shoulders. 

"What are our numbers on Honeywine?", Aemond asked. 

"We have the numbers, your grace. If Tessarion is there, it would change the tides. That is why I asked Prince Lucerys to assist. To garrison the troops and buy us enough time so that one of us finally goes and rid of that beast", Daemon said. 

Aemond nodded, his eye racking over the painted table 

"I was a second son. Not good enough for anything. A third son if you add Rhaenyra. You were a second son too. Now I am King to this bloody war. A war my wife, children and I had been enslaved to the moment Rhaenyra gave her the crown. Why?"

Aemond had been moored. All of this. All of their sacrifice so far. All of Aemma's sacrifice to be happy for once with him and their children. And when they placed that on her head, all the chances and foolish hopes crumbled under the golden aventurine clad piece on his head. 

"We are second sons. Middle childs who were set to inherit nothing. Aemma was a second woman born. Set to inherit less that we could ever have. We make our own path, and that is what mattered to her. The path that you had created with Aemma. It does not matter now, you have the fucking crown and you will wield it to your last breath". 

Aemond strapped his blade on his back, his gaze moved to the tent the meeting had been set up. He watched at the soldiers marched with a single wheelhouse and heavy pelts. As if they were no more than barbarians. And Aemma had lived with them for two years. Had known their ways and traditions.