The Prince and His Flower

S I X T Y - O N E

Daemon read and reread Aemma's letter, her pleas for peace. The Greens had an even tighter grip on her than he feared. When the news that Aemma was alive had been relayed back to Daemon, he killed the man who told him in fear of Rhaenyra finding out. The Greens had sent Luke's ashes, so Daemon had made a second urn and divided the ashes, telling Rhaenyra they had been Aemma's as well. 

Ser Erryk had excused himself upon the news of Aemma's death, promising he would avenge the two children who had been killed in a senseless war. Where he had gone, nobody knew, but nobody had tried to stop him. 

Rhaenys and Corlys were beside themselves with grief over their lost granddaughter, whose smile could have lit up a room. They spent long hours staring out into the sea, wondering if she had finally reunited with her beloved father.

Baela and Rhaena had resigned themselves to their chambers, weeping over their lost kin. They had grown extremely fond of Luke and Aemma, and they didn't know where to begin to fill the hole they left in their hearts.

Joffrey was young, he knew they were dead, but he did not understand that he would never see them again. He often slept in Aemma's bed, telling his mother he was warming it for her until she came back to visit.

Jace had flown home from Winterfell as soon as he received the news, falling to his knees in tears after viewing the two urns. He was filled with so much sorrow after that, silently cursing himself for not holding his siblings tighter on their last day together. He returned to Winterfell a week later to continue to treat with Lord Cregan, but partly because he could not escape the ghosts of his siblings' presence in the old halls of Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra wailed day and night for her lost children, her only distraction was planning. She planned everything down to the last detail, then she would start all over again. She often sat in Aemma's room with her boys and told them stories of their older sister. With Luke, she always left a candle lit in his room so that the dark never came for him.

Daemon read Aemma's letter one more time, his eyes falling on the small sketch of the three-headed dragon Aemma had scribbled onto the corner of the page. He crumpled the letter in his hands and tossed it into the flames, watching as the parchment ignited, then burned, its ashes scattering in the fireplace.

"What was that?" Rhaenyra asked, holding Viserys in her arms. She loved spending as much time with her children as she could, knowing they could be taken away at any moment.

"House Blackwood has gathered their banners and are marching toward the lands of House Bracken, ready to plunder and destroy in the name of their Queen." Daemon lied about the letter, but the Blackwoods truly were marching. 

"Have they made any progress yet?" Rhaenyra asked, holding Viserys closer.

"They have despoiled a few septs, and they're currently approaching a small fishing village. I presume after the Brackens are defeated, the Hightowers will have lost all their allies in the Riverlands." Daemon rubbed his jaw wearily.

"Good. I wonder when they will make use of their dragons." Rhaenyra stared into the flames, unknowingly looking at the last letter from her daughter. 

"That is unknown." Daemon turned to press a kiss onto the side of his son's head. "Terrax is presumably still in the Dragonpit, perhaps one of the usurper cunts will try their hand at claiming him." Daemon ignored the way Rhaenyra visibly flinched at his mention of Aemma's dragon. He wanted Aemma to return to Dragonstone, where she belonged, but as long as Rhaenyra believed her to be dead at the hands of the Greens, she was willing to destroy them. 

If they had agreed to peace, it would only last for so long until the Hightowers began their scheming once more, and Daemon would not stand for it. He would sacrifice Aemma for the death of the Hightowers, and in turn, ending this war how he wanted; him and Rhaenyra on the throne. He would rule through her, as expected, and she would live out her days believing she had earned her birthright.