Aemma Velaryon was the spitting image of her mother; she had pale silver hair, fair skin, and dazzling blue eyes. She was a Targaryen in all sense but her last name which she bore from her father Laenor Velaryon. She was the younger twin of Lucerys...
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Aemma and Luke stood at the Painted Table, silently examining it as they mulled over their thoughts.
"Are you still going to marry him?" Luke asked, breaking the silence. Aemma looked up from the table, her expression unreadable.
"I do not have a choice, and it will help mend the rift between our families." Aemma said, offering Luke a small smile. Luke frowned and walked to his sister, taking her hands in his.
"You don't have to, if it won't make you happy. You can stay here, with us... with me." Luke squeezed her hands, his heart aching at the thought of his sister living the rest of her life unhappy just to try and end a stupid feud that he caused.
"We have been betrothed for years, Luke. I am nearly certain that when I return to Kings Landing there will be wedding preparations. I will be happy; I've been living there all my life." Aemma pulled Luke into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed.
"He hates me." He said, too embarrassed to look up. "It's my fault that we left."
"It's a complicated situation, Luke. Aemond is a good man, but his ill feelings run deep. Perhaps in time you two will make out to be friends." Aemma said, pulling away and smiling at her brother.
"Something feels wrong." Luke said, chewing his lip. Aemma nodded, sharing the same feeling.
"I know. Everything has felt off since we left. What do you think is going to happen?" Aemma asked. She had been feeling uneasy ever since she left Aemond's chambers, an odd atmosphere hung over the Keep.
"I don't know, but it scares me. I don't want you to go back to Kings Landing." Luke said, looking at Aemma with worry. He had a horrible feeling, a pit forming in his stomach every time he thought of her going back there. "There's just something not right."
"Everything will be alright." Aemma said, trying to calm her brother's fears.
"I think he is going to die." Luke said, his eyes searching Aemma's for any indication of whether or not he was right or wrong. "Grandsire."
"There you are!" Rhaenyra said, smiling at her two inseparable children. Luke and Aemma turned to their mother, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. Aemma wondered which grandsire Luke was referring to, seeing as both of them were on their deathbed.
"The Sea Snake is going to die, isn't he?" Luke asked, taking Aemma's hand in his as he feared his mother's answer.
"Luke-" Rhaenyra said, her face full of concern.
"I can't be Lord of the Tides!" He said, his panic surfacing. "Grandsire was the greatest sailor who ever lived. I get seasick before we even leave the harbour!"
Luke was right; before they even departed from Kings Landing, he had gotten terribly sick.
"I'll ruin everything. I don't want Driftmark, it should have passed on to Ser Vaemond." Luke said. He wasn't even of Velaryon blood, yet he was being handed Driftmark and the entire Velaryon fleet. Vaemond may not have been a kind man toward them, but he had every right to be, his inheritance was going to a bastard.
