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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Two months later
Rhaenyra sobbed in the darkness of her chambers, the curtains drawn shut, the fireplace had burned out long ago. Tomorrow would be Luke and Aemma's nameday, and the reminder weighed heavily on Rhaenyra. Aemma was her only daughter; her sweet, loving, stubborn, strong-willed daughter.
Rhaenyra had begged the Gods, every single one of them, for a sign that her children were safe, happy, or even just at peace wherever they were, but she received none. She only hoped Luke and Aemma kept Visenya company until she could join them all again. She pressed a hand to her womb, the one that had stretched and grown with her twins, and she wept even more.
Daemon leaned his head against the door as his wife sobbed for her lost children, knowing Aemma was alive and well. He had taken great care to ensure word did not get back to Rhaenyra of Aemma's survival, and it had been a most difficult task indeed. Daemon hadn't planned on taking Stone Hedge, but when word of Aemma's destruction reached his ears, he knew there could be no survivors left to tell the tale.
Tongues wag, however, and rumors began to swirl that the Velaryon Princess had taken with the Greens, slowly sweeping the Riverlands with her massive dragon alongside Prince Daeron, urging lords to swear fealty to "King" Aegon. If the lords refused, they were made to watch as their castles burned. Any knights that refused were killed, and their bodies hung along the walls of the ruined castles and keeps. The Terrors of the Trident, the duo were called.
Daemon was glad Rhaenyra went half-mad with grief, for he could not afford to keep silencing messengers and those that spread these rumors. Soon enough these rumors would reach Jace in Winterfell, and then there would be no stopping him from flying to the Riverlands himself. Daemon had already begun to plan how to spin the tale so that he was blameless in the situation, and soon enough all his pieces would fall into place.
He did mourn Luke, the sweet little boy who never strayed far from his sister, and he missed Aemma dearly, despite all she had done. She had been a willful girl and a smart one at that. She reminded him of Laena at times, and it saddened him to see her take such a treacherous path. Daemon was convinced Aemma had gone mad with grief, and the Greens twisted her mind. Otto Hightower was a cunning cunt, and he most definitely poisoned Aemma's mind with his lies.
Daemon would save Aemma, but he would also kill her if he had to. The crown belonged to him and to Rhaenyra, and if Aemma stood between that he would do what was needed. He missed the little girl that ran down these stone halls he now walked, her screams of joy echoing off the walls. All that remained now was the ghost of her presence, the empty halls nothing but a reminder of all they had lost.
~~
Aemma stood over Lord Darry, her face twisted into a grimace as she looked at the weak old man before her.
"I swore to your mother, and I'll keep that promise! Even if it means death." The old man wheezed. Aemma wanted to thank the man for his devotion, to send the entire army away back to Kings Landing and return to Dragonstone, where she belonged. But she looked behind her, at the hundreds of knights and soldiers that followed her, and she knew she had a duty.
