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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Aemma cried out as she shifted into a sitting position. She touched her fingers to her temple and pulled them, watching the blood run into the palm of her hand. Aemma was surrounded by forest, the trees blocking her vision.
Her eyes scanned the sky, searching for any sign of Terrax, Tessarion, or Carxes to no avail; the sky was empty. Aemma did not know where she was, or which direction to walk in so she began to walk straight, limping and bleeding.
When she arrived at a clearing, she was surprised to find that it was not truly a clearing; it was a large patch of trees that had been snapped, bent, and broken due to something large landing on them. In the center of the clearing, Terrax lay on his side, groaning and growling.
"Terrax," Aemma breathed. He lifted his head at the sound of her voice, letting out what almost sounded like a cry before dropping his head back to the dirt. "Be calm, my dragon." Aemma could see where his wing had been torn; the wound looked nasty, but it was clear he would survive.
Aemma knew she could remain where she was and wait for someone to find her, but who would come; Daeron and Ser Criston, or Daemon and Caraxes? Aemma looked at Terrax once more, stroking his hot scales before kissing him gently. She wondered what her life would become if she returned with Daeron, would it be filled with glory and praise, or if she would be ridiculed and harassed? Her thoughts went to her husband, who was probably already in the Riverlands searching for her.
She turned back to Terrax and settled herself on the ground next to him, leaning on one of his thick legs. He let out a noise of approval, happy to not be alone in his pain. As Aemma looked up at the sky, she started to feel the pain from her injuries; her head was pounding, and she could feel drops of blood falling onto her arms as they ran down her chin. Her ribs ached and her head swam, and she knew she was more than likely suffering a concussion.
Aemma faded in and out of consciousness, jolting awake as she felt hot fingertips brush her skin, but frowned when nobody was there. That cycle continued for hours until the sun began to set in the sky. Terrax did not move from his position, too tired to bother. She waited for what felt like years, falling in and out of consciousness as the forest darkened around her.
Aemma could see the Isle of Faces beneath her, Harrenhal just to the South. Daemon was atop Caraxes, and he chased her into the storm clouds. The darkening sky was lit up by flames, the screeches and ear-shattering roars of dragons filling the sky.
Aemma could feel the rain on her skin, harsh and unforgiving. She was grateful for Terrax's heat, shifting even closer to him in the darkness. It was so dark Aemma wouldn't be able to see her hand if she lifted it in front of her face.
Her head throbbed even more now, and the cuts on her face stung from the droplets of water. She slipped into a deep sleep once more.
"Are the Gods truly cruel enough to taunt me with the ghost of my daughter?" Rhaenyra asked.
