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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Jace attacked the mannequin again and again, adjusting his stance and attack each time. Eventually, he tired of the straw dummy and delivered a powerful kick, sending it flying backward and clattering to the ground.
"I believe you won that round." Cregan chuckled atop the bridge that overlooked the training yard.
Jace said nothing as he returned the dummy to its original position and returned his sword to its sheath. The past few days he had been even more on edge than usual, snapping at anyone who dared to cross him. He looked to the sky as Vermax flew overhead, shrieking. He sighed to himself and ran a gloved hand down his face. His dragon was not a fan of the cold, and neither was he, truth be told.
He knew he would have to return to Dragonstone soon to dispel some of his mother's anxiety despite the haunting feeling of the empty halls that were once filled with laughs and screams of joy by his younger siblings.
"Jace." Cregan beckoned for Jace to join him on the bridge, sending away the guard that was whispering in his ear.
Jace swallowed nervously as he ascended the steps, wondering what Cregan was going to tell him. It could be anything at this point; was the war over or had Aemond come to kill the rest of his family too?
"Cregan," Jace tried to hide his shaking hands, but nothing escaped those solemn grey eyes. "What is it?"
"Three riders have been taken into custody at the gate. One man, a woman, and a boy. The woman is demanding to see you at once." Cregan stared out into the snowy abyss. "I ordered them to be brought to the Great Hall."
"Did they say who they are?" Jace wondered who could have ridden all the way to Winterfell, and for what reason.
"No, but their clothes are too fine to be commonfolk." Cregan shrugged. "We shall find out soon enough."
Jace nodded, his mind racing with all the possibilities of who the three riders could be. He followed behind Cregan, letting him lead the way to the Great Hall.
Aemma drew her hood closer to her face as she shivered, silently cursing the cold weather. She had caught a chill somewhere in between Deepwood Motte and Winterfell, and no matter what she did she could not get warm.
"When is the Prince going to get here?" Aemma asked the guard, but he simply shrugged.
"I don't know, m'lady." He responded. "I mean... are you a lady? You still haven't identified yourself."
"My lady will suffice for the time being." Aemma brought her gloved hands to her cheeks, trying to spread any warmth she still had in her. Ser Erryk watched with a cautious eye, ready to help her if need be.
"What is the meaning of this?" Aemma froze at the sound of Jace's voice booming from behind her, and she buried her face even deeper behind the hood of her fur-lined cloak as another shiver ran up her spine.
"These three rode straight up to the gates, demanding to speak with you." The guard straightened his back.
"Ser... Ser Erryk?" Jace blinked in confusion at the presence of Aemma's former sworn protector.
"My Prince." Ser Erryk dropped to one knee, his head bowed.
"What are you doing here?" Jace asked. "Who are you with?"
"I am sworn to Princess Aemma, and it was her wish that I come to Winterfell." Ser Erryk did not look up from the ground once as he spoke.
"Aemma is dead." Jace felt the wound in his heart reopen at the words. "You have no oath to keep anymore. Go home."
Aemma's heart was racing at her proximity to her brother. All she had to do was turn around and take off her hood, and she would be with him again.
"I will not leave until she commands me to." Ser Erryk swallowed.
"Who are you?" Jace asked. Aemma did not have to turn around to know he was speaking to her. "Turn around."
Jace watched as the hooded woman turned around painfully slow as if she were a cat that would go running at the slightest hint of danger. Black hair peeked out from under her hood, long and thick. Even under her layers of clothing and cloaks, he could sense that she was a warrior; her body hardened after years of training. He could only see the lower half of her face which was littered with small cuts that had nearly healed, and her full lips that were pulled into a small frown.
"I will not ask again; who are you?" Jace's voice was shaky, a part of him upset that it wasn't Aemma. But he knew it was foolish to wish for her, because she was dead.
Aemma slowly peeled off her gloves, pausing for a brief moment after Jace quietly gasped to himself.
Jace felt like the air had been knocked out of him when his eyes fell upon the woman's burned hands. He wondered how often women carried scars like that, and how small of a chance it was that one of those women would be here now. He felt his breath quicken as the woman pulled the hood off of her head, and Jace wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The room was deathly silent, the sound of a pin dropping could have been as loud as a dragon's roar.
Jace staggered back a few steps, his face white as a ghost before letting out the most pained, anguished cry anyone in the Great Hall had ever heard. Jacaerys Velaryon, the Prince who never smiled or laughed, was throwing himself into his sister's arms, weeping.
Aemma sobbed as she pressed her face into her older brother's chest, every emotion she had felt since Luke's death rising to the surface and breaking through her icy exterior like a battering ram to a glass gate.
Jace pulled back for a few moments, his face wet with tears, and he hesitantly touched his hand to Aemma's cheek, fearing she would disappear, that he was only dreaming. Aemma leaned her face into his touch and placed her hand on top of his.
"Luke, where's Luke?" He asked through his tears.
Aemma began crying even harder, and Jace did not ask why, for his heart already knew.
"I'm sorry." She choked out. "I couldn't protect him!"
Cregan silently motioned for everyone to leave the room, wanting to give his friend the space he needed. He was more than confused, but he would ask his questions later.
"It was never your job to keep him safe." Jace rested his forehead against Aemma's, their breathing uneven as they struggled to control themselves. "Are you harmed? Did they hurt you?"
"No." Aemma swallowed. "No, I'm unharmed." Another shiver ran through her and she struggled to keep her teeth from chattering.
"You've caught a chill." Jace pulled away and hurriedly wiped away his tears. He unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around Aemma's shoulders tightly. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to his side, determined to never let her go again. "Let us fetch the maester."
Aemma glanced back at Ser Erryk and Olyvar, who watched her leave with Jace. After Aemma was out of sight, Ser Erryk wiped a tear from his eye, knowing he would never have the same reunion with his brother.
