Nefarious || Aemond Targaryen

1

120 AC

It's not often you get to see a sunrise-gold beach. That was Aemma's privilege as she gazed out at the slothful sea. Ebbing ever so gently, it looked at peace in its jade-green glow. The ocean was forging its own sea-song. Far out to sea, rivers of pulsing light saturated the sea with gold. It was a breathtaking sight and possibly the only thing in the Seven Kingdoms that could relax Aemma in the most stressful of situations. She wishes she could walk upon the sand, alas King's Landing only has rocky cliffs connected to the ocean, there were no beds of sand like her home Dragonstone.

She had only ever been to Dragonstone a couple of times, spending a great part of her ten years of life in the Red Keep. Most commoners thought that life inside of the castle was ordered, organized, full of pomp and ceremony, and to a certain point it was, but that didn't change the fact that she felt so very lonely. Even thought she was surrounded by her entire family and all the lords and ladys in court, she felt a great amount of solitude. It didn't help that her uncles were intolerable little shits who passed their days belittling and slandering her name.

Her uncles. She didn't even want to think about them. She hated them, especially Aemond. He was nefarious. He constantly tormented her, he made her miserable, and for what? Just because she didn't share the same white hair as they did? Just because she had darker features. She knew Laenor wasn't her father by blood, that was obvious. They shared no resemblance whatsoever, but that didn't mean that he wasn't a father to her. He loved her as if she were his own, spoiling her with all of the riches possible, educating her with the best educational books Kings Landing has to offer. She might not be a true Velaryon, but she knows their ancient tongue better than all of her uncles combined.

There wasn't much a ten  year old could do in their free time so she often found herself scouring the library constantly looking for new books to devour. Books were her way of shining a light on new pathways, it was enlightening. It was truly the only escape from the ridiculousness that her life actually was. If she wasn't in the library, she was often found in the garden chatting with her only friend in the Red Keep, Marcus of house Royce. For the better of his education, his parents decided it was best he remained in Kings Landing instead of the Vale.

It was said that Aemma Velaryon was far more intelligent than anybody her age. Sure, she was keen with her studies with the Septa even thought she didn't particularly enjoy her lessons with the wretched woman. But she wasn't just book smart, Aemma was wise beyond her years, incredibly quick-witted and cunning, even more than her mother was at her age. Of course, she was still a child, but all of that time alone she spent while growing up made her more observant and aware of her surroundings, often overhearing conversations that weren't fit for a child to know, often learning secrets that if discovered, would cause the downfall of the person in question. But she never spoke a word to anybody.

"Princess, your mother requests your presence." Her guard speaks up, distracting her from her thoughts. "The babe has been born."

"Is it a boy or a girl, Ser Garrick?" she asked.

"A boy, I believe, princess."

"Another brother? How marvelous, I'll head to my mothers chambers this instant. Thank you." She nearly squealed with joy. If there was one thing she adored more than anything in this world were her baby brothers.

Grabbing her dress to not trip and fall in front of the entire court she begins to run to her mothers chambers as fast as she can. She could feel the stares if the lords and ladies at the court, she knew that running like a mad woman was not ladylike, certainly not behavior for a princess in line for the iron throne, but she couldn't care less.  Just as she ran around the corner to the corridor where her mothers chamber was she bumped into something, someone, knocking both herself and the other person to the ground.