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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It had been a slow week for Aemma; Aemond had refused to let her walk unassisted at every waking moment, fearing she would topple over without him there to catch her. She hadn't fallen once, but she silently accepted his arm every time.
Daeron had felt extremely guilty that he was the reason Aemma even encountered Daemon in the sky and he spent more than enough time trying to make things better.
This morning Daeron had left a strange assortment of gifts at Aemma's door; a bouquet of flowers he claimed to have picked himself, a helmet that was much too big for Aemma's head, and a seahorse pin.
"I don't think he realizes I am not angry with him," Aemma said as Aemond dropped the items on her table. Her face had healed somewhat; the shallow cuts were scabbed over and the gash on her head had started to look less menacing, though it was sure to scar. Terrax had finally been able to take flight once more and he often circled the castle at odd hours of the night.
"Perhaps he is simply currying your favor," Aemond smirked as he held up the misshapen helmet. "I hope he crafted this himself. I would be terribly concerned if a smith truly made this lump of metal."
"I have never seen an uglier helmet." Aemma threw the covers off her body and swung her legs over the bed. Before she could even rise to her feet, Aemond was at her side and helping her up.
"You wish to take a walk?" He asked.
"I wish to return to my duties." Aemma walked to the trunk at the end of her bed with Aemond still holding her arm tightly. "I would like to get dressed."
"Of course." Aemond dropped Aemma's arm and delicately pulled her shift over her head, his eye focused on her face instead of her body.
"You must love playing the part of my handmaiden." Aemma chuckled as Aemond dressed her. She was fully capable of taking care of herself but it entertained her to see her husband so... domesticated.
"I don't want you to strain yourself." He ruffled through Aemma's trunk and pulled out a dark green dress.
"Perhaps something more convenient." Aemma clicked her tongue when Aemond pulled out another dress. "Surely you don't think I wore dresses and frills during my time here?" Aemma knelt beside Aemond, stifling a groan as her ribs protested. She quickly found and retrieved a white cotton tunic and black leather pants.
"I did not see that," Aemond admitted. "And I did not know what you wore."
"I suppose your blindness isn't something to be controlled." Aemma pointed to her eye. "And how threatening would I look if I stood over lords in a gown?"
"You would bring me to my knees." Aemond sent her a sideways glance and smirked. "You could do that whenever you like, I reckon."
Aemma said nothing and stood, clutching her clothing in her hands. Aemond stood as well, and Aemma tilted her head so that she could see him fully. She loved his height; the way she had to reach up and pull him down to her, and the way she had to go to the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his lips.
