The Prince and His Flower

S E V E N T Y

Aemma frowned as she watched the sunrise; today was her nameday. She had just turned seventeen, but Luke would always be sixteen. She walked into the bathroom, staring into the mirror; all she saw was a little girl drained of all happiness. 

Aemma wished she could turn back time, back to when things were simple and peaceful. She missed her mother more than anything, and she hadn't seen her family in months. Aemma could only imagine how much Aegon and Viserys had grown. 

She dressed herself plainly, opting for a grey cotton shirt and simple trousers. Aemma hadn't worn a dress in months, and she quickly adjusted to the new way of dressing herself. Her mood was sour the entire day, barking orders left and right. Everyone knew of her nameday, and they knew of her dead twin. This would be their first nameday since Luke's death, and they saw how it affected her. 

"I'm sorry, Aegon is demanding my presence?" Aemma asked the young squire who brought her the letter. 

"I... I don't know, Princess." The boy stammered. 

"What a fucking cunt. I've got half a mind to go that city and-" Aemma threw the letter down on the table.

"Such language is not befitting for a princess." Daeron clicked his tongue. "You do have to go, though."

"He can wait until tomorrow." Aemma frowned. 

"There's another letter, Your Grace." The squire shakily held out another piece of parchment, jumping when Aemma roughly snatched it from him. "From Prince Aemond."

Aemma read and reread the letter, and her eyes softened slightly. She brushed her finger over the loving words and frowned. Aemond could be so kind, but he could also be cruel. Aemma had found that out at Storm's End. She did not how to react to the letter, so she simply didn't react at all.

"Thank you... what is your name?" She asked, looking up from the letter.

"Olyvar." The boy swallowed. "Your Grace." 

"Olyvar," Aemma repeated. 

"He's a good squire, I like to think so." Daeron patted the boy's head. His hair was black as ink, and his nose was crooked as if it had been broken before. He couldn't have been more than four years younger than Aemma, but he was small and slender. 

"Thank you." He smiled proudly.

"Leave us, please." Aemma nodded to the door. Olyvar nearly ran out of the room, leaving Daeron and Aemma alone in the solar. 

"What did Aemond send? Did he detail how the days are dreadful without you, his night cold and long without his wife by his side? The way he yearns and aches with-" Daeron hissed in pain as Aemma threw the candlestick that was resting on the table at him. "Ow!"

"Shut up." Aemma folded Aemond's letter and shoved it in her pocket. "Does Aegon not understand we are in the middle of a war? I am out here in this dreadful, sopping mess while he is living the lushest of lives in the Keep. I cannot leave at his beck and call."

"You can, it's probably a two-hour ride to Kings Landing." Daeron shrugged. "You have to, anyways."

"I don't have to do anything." Aemma folded her arms over and sighed. She missed Helaena dearly, and she imagined Helaena missed her just as much. "I am only going for Helaena."

"If that is what you want to believe, then so be it." Daeron shrugged. "I suspect you will not be gone long unless you and Aemond have other plans." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"We do not." Aemma looked around for something else to throw. 

"Oh Aemond, your words made me swoon!" Daeron tried to replicate Aemma's voice as he draped his hand over his forehead. "Hey! Put that down!" Daeron flinched as Aemma raised the helmet over her head.

"Your choice of words is going to determine what happens next." Aemma still held the helmet in her hand. Daeron pondered for a moment, rubbing his chin dramatically.

"Tell me, does he wear the eyepatch while you two-" Daeron ducked as Aemma whipped the helmet at him, laughing as it clattered against the wall.

"Out." Aemma pointed to the door. "Now." 

"Happy nameday, my dear niece-sister!" Daeron chuckled as he left, finding himself quite hilarious.

Aemma silently rejoiced in her long-awaited solitude, resting her head on her arms. She could feel Luke's absence the most now, her heart cold and empty without his love to fill it. It was there, alone in the solar of Castle Darry that Aemma finally accepted she would never see him again.

"Happy nameday, Luke," Aemma spoke to the empty room before burying her face in her hands, a silent sob tearing through her. 

~~

Jace sat in the godswood of Winterfell, looking up at the massive weirwood tree. He silently prayed for his little brother and sister, who had been dead for nearly six moons. He could remember their last day together as if it had happened just moments ago. He wished he had never suggested they go as messengers; they would still be alive if he hadn't. 

"I'm sorry." Cregan had approached silently, offering his condolences to his dear friend. He placed a strong hand on Jace's shoulder, who stared into the eyes of the tree.

"Aemma was the kind of person that only ever came into existence every few hundred years. She was the most loyal, devoted sister. I never had the same bond she had with Luke, nobody did. A part of me is glad they died together, I don't think either of them could have lived without the other." Jace felt a lump rise in his throat. "She was always so protective of Luke; I think she would have stood off against a giant if he dared threaten Luke."

"She sounds like she was a lovely girl." Cregan looked up to the grey sky. "You must miss them."

"More than anything. Sometimes I wake up, and for a fleeting moment, I forget what happened. Then it ends, and I'm left with the cold reality; I will never see them again." Jace blinked back his tears. "Forgive me, Cregan. I wish to be alone."

Cregan lowered himself to the ground and sat next to Jace.

"I wish to be alone as well. Perhaps we will be alone together." He looked back to the weirwood tree, silently praying for the lost prince and princess.