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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The rain had drenched Aemma's clothes, soaking her and chilling her to the bone. There was a violent storm raging over Storm's End as Arrax descended past the cloud. Aemma shivered and her grip on Luke tightened. It was pitch black out, the only source of light was the faint glow of the lanterns that surrounded the courtyard of the mighty castle.
Lightning struck, the sound of thunder so loud and violent it shook Aemma to her core. The wind lashed Aemma's face, the rain stinging like little knives. Aemma buried her face in Luke's back as Arrax descended, the sound of his landing muffled by another crack of thunder.
The rain was much lighter once they stopped moving, only a faint drizzle. Luke jumped down from the saddle, grabbing Aemma's hand as he helped her down. Together, they approached the guards that stood stationed outside the hall.
As they took their step, another roar of thunder echoed, only it wasn't thunder. Lightning lit up the silhouette of Vhagar, whose body peeked over the tallest tower of Storm's End. She turned her monstrous head, almost appearing as if she was staring right at the young couple.
"I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon, here with Princess Aemma Velaryon. We bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen." Luke said, surprised at how commanding his voice sounded despite his fear.
The guards nodded and turned on their heels, escorting them into the hall.
"Prince Lucerys Velaryon, and Princess Aemma Velaryon, son and daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen." The guard announced. Lord Borros was a fat man with a thick beard, his ink-black Baratheon hair streaked with silver. He sat upon his throne, tilting his head at the two who were interrupting.
Aemma's breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on Aemond, his cold gaze settled on Luke. Luke wanted to turn and drag Aemma away, mount Arrax, and escape, but he knew he had to be brave. He repeated Aemma's words in his head, knowing that he could only be brave when he was afraid.
"Afraid is the only time a man can be brave." He breathed to himself. "Lord Borros, we have brought you a message from our mother, the Queen." Luke straightened his back, ignoring the terrifying presence of Aemond.
"Yet only earlier this day I received an envoy from the King. Which is it; King or Queen?" Lord Borros asked. Aemond dragged his eye away from Luke and watched Aemma as she shivered. Her white hair was soaked, flattened against her forehead and back. She looked radiant as ever, dressed as if she was ready for battle at a moment's notice. Her clothing matched Luke's, her red cloak dripping water onto the floors.
"Queen, my Lord." Aemma's voice rang out.
"The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it." Lord Borros laughed, a deep, throaty sound. "What's your mother's message?"
Luke held out the parchment, his eyes remaining on Lord Borros the entire time. The guard took it from his hands and marched it over to Lord Borros, who took it and scoffed.
