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 felt a sense of dread as she flew over the Riverlands, fearing Daemon might swoop down from above and take her out of the sky once more. She was so close to her goals, all of her efforts couldn't go to waste because of him. All she could see for miles was the endless trees and the occasional castle if she looked hard enough. The only sounds she could hear were the beating of wings and the occasional attempt at conversation from Daeron when his words weren't carried away by the wind.
She recalled the day that she had taken Aemond into the skies for the first time, back before he had ever bonded with Vhagar. He was terrified, his face pressed into her back and his arms squeezing her so tight she thought he would cut off her air supply. How simple things were then. Aemma glanced over at Aemond, who simply scanned the lands below them in search of any danger. Feeling eyes on him, he raised his head and looked startled by Aemma's watchful gaze.
He was trying to speak, but his words were drowned out by the wind rushing in her ears. After a few moments of trying to decipher what was being said, Aemma simply shook her head and motioned to her ears. Aemond looked rather saddened and nodded, lowering his head once more.
He wanted to ask her if she remembered the first time they took to the skies together. He had never felt such unbridled joy until that moment, his face pressed into her back as he felt themselves flying higher and higher. No amount of tricks or dives on Vhagar's back would ever replicate that feeling despite how often he had tried.
It was night by the time they reached Kings Landing and Aemma felt nearly as exhausted as Terrax. He peered down into the cramped tunnel and Aemma imagined he was pondering whether or not he could fit his way inside. After closer inspection, it seems he did not think so, for he took to the skies once more, no doubt heading toward the cliffs.
"My Princes, Princess. Welcome home." The old dragontrainer bowed deeply, leaning heavily on his wooden cane before shuffling back inside, motioning for them to follow. "Shall I send for a carriage? We have horses stabled if that is what you prefer."
"Horses are fine," Aemma replied. Her legs ached from the long hours of riding but she hated those cramped carriages and she feared she would throttle someone if they tried to force her into one. "Thank you."
Aemond noticed Aemma's slight wobble in her legs and the way she winced when she tried to raise her leg into the stirrup and frowned. He mounted his horse and gently made his way in her direction.
"Here, ride with me." He offered his hand down to her. "I know you may still be angry, but I don't want to see you in pain."
Aemma silently accepted his hand and he lifted her with ease, settling her on the front of the saddle so that she did not have to swing her leg over. She would never admit it but she felt like a pretty maiden being recused, or like Jonquil when Florian came and swept her away. She held onto the horn of the saddle so that she did not lose her balance and leaned into Aemond's chest, taking full advantage of the fact that she did not have to put in any work. She had worked enough the past four months.
