The Prince and His Flower

E I G H T Y - E I G H T

The walls of the Red Keep felt constricting as if they were waiting until Aemma let her guard down to swallow her whole. After her breakfast with Helaena, she had been dragged into one of the longest small council meetings of her life, forced to sit and listen to Ser Criston's plans to trap and kill one of the Black's dragonriders. Aemond had assured her he would do everything he could to ensure that no blood was shed, but even she knew it was a futile promise.

Aemma felt like the walls had eyes, watching her wander aimlessly around the Keep in search of some respite from her anxiety. Servants and nobles alike all stopped to pay their respects but she refused to spare a second glance, wondering which ones reported back to Otto and which ones reported to Larys. 

She found herself standing at the door to Luke's chambers, and before she could even think she was pushing the door open. It was recently dusted and the curtains were drawn, allowing the sun to brighten up the room. The entire room smelled of Luke and it made her heart hurt more than she ever could have imagined, but she felt safe.

Aemma looked around the room, hoping that he was somehow waiting for her. He wasn't, and she tried to ignore the disappointment that crept into her heart. She twisted his ring on her finger and sat down on his bed, letting her sadness overcome her unease. 

If Aemma hadn't left Terrax in the Dragonpit, she could have flown to Storm's End herself and sent Luke to the Vale. Aemond wouldn't have tried to kill her and if he did, Terrax would have made quick work of the ancient Vhagar. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered into the empty room, hoping Luke would hear her apology. A part of her wondered if she would ever truly get past her twin's death, the rest of her knew she would never do that.

Aemma wondered what she had done to be punished by the Gods in such a horrible way. Had she angered them in her youth to the point where they wanted to take away everything? It was an unanswerable question and it angered her more than she would care to admit. The hollowness from her continuous losses left her feeling like a fragile shell, ready to crack under the slightest of pressures. 

She did not know how long she had been sitting on his bed, nor how long it had taken her to fall asleep, but when she opened her eyes it was dark. For the briefest of moments, she felt warm arms around her but when she reached out into the darkness, nothing was there. She was alone.

The halls were empty, save for the occasional guard patrolling the Keep. The braziers were nearly all extinguished and it took her a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Aemma pushed open the door to Aemond's chambers and found him sitting on his chair in front of the fire as he usually did when he was lost in thought. His shirt was discarded, leaving his naked torso exposed to the orange glow of the fire. His eye was closed and he picked at the arm of the chair in an oddly uniform rhythm.

"What are you thinking about?" Aemma asked, breaking the silence between them. 

Aemond had been thinking about Aemma and her family. How jealous he was at their closeness, their affection for one another. He wondered if his burning desire for revenge was truly about his eye or if he simply wanted to fulfill what his father had refused. He cursed himself for allowing his own emotions to cloud his judgment and throw them all into this war in the first place. 

"You." He opened his eye and turned to look at her. She was wearing the same dress from earlier and her hair was a mess. She rubbed at her eye and brought a hand to her mouth to hide a yawn. "Are you well?"

"I was asleep." She admitted sheepishly. "It was pleasant though, I haven't had such a peaceful sleep in years."

"Good, that's good." Aemond smiled before turning back to the fire. "I know the small council meeting must have been hard for you to sit through."

"I don't wish to speak of it." Aemma approached her husband and sat on the arm of his chair, allowing him to wrap his arm around her waist. 

"What do you want to talk about?" He asked. 

"I want us to sit here and watch the flames." She sighed. "Then, I would simply like to go to bed."

Aemond did as she asked, sitting and watching the flames dance in the fireplace until they were nothing but burning embers. Then he held her in his arms until sleep took both of them.

The next few days were filled with preparations for the upcoming march; many men were taken from the streets of the city and given a sword and the Keep was abuzz with servants scouring for enough dried meats to supply the men with enough food.

Aegon and Aemma had managed to avoid each other's presence entirely, save for small council meetings. They simply exchanged pleasantries and nothing more, neither of them brave enough to make the first move and speak, but they had more than enough silent conversations during their brief interactions.

Aemma now stood in the middle of the training yard with Ser Criston running drills over and over again. Many of these men had never picked up a sword before and it showed. They would last less than a week.

"Keep your shield up!" Aemma whacked a young man in his ribs with her blunted sword. "If this were a real sword you would be dead."

"I'm sorry, m'lady." He rubbed his ribs. "Princess, I mean."

Aemma said nothing and motioned for him to ready his stance yet again. He was able to hold his shield up but he acted as if he did not know how to wield both at once and Aemma ended their spar with a well-timed blow to his temple. 

"You're done for today." She grimaced as she stood over him. 

Aemond and Aegon watched in stony silence as Aemma began sparring with another man. She wasn't a muscled warrior, but more of an agile cat that ducked and weaved while using her strength to her advantage. 

"Ser Criston told me she cut a man's head nearly clean off in one swing," Aemond remarked. "I could watch her do this for hours."

Aegon glanced at him but said nothing. 

"She will never forgive you if you go through with Ser Criston's plan." Aemond didn't look over, but he could feel Aegon's eyes on him. "She will hate you."

"And she told you this?" Aegon asked. "I kept my end of the deal, Daemon chose this. I only hope he is the one Rhaenyra sends."

"And if he isn't? What if she sends Rhaenys? Or better, what if she sends Jace? Do you truly think Aemma would sit idly by while you slaughter her brother?" He taunted. 

"Did she sit idly by while you slaughtered Luke?" Aegon snapped. "Did Helaena welcome you with open arms after you became the reason Jaehaerys was murdered? I find it rather ironic that you are the one trying to dissuade me from this when you are the one who pushed me to do this in the first place."

"I suggest you walk away." Aemond frowned. "Now." 

"Or what? You'll set Vhagar on me like you did to our poor nephew and your own wife?" Aegon chuckled. "It was never my intention to kill one of her family members, but I have no other choice. You, on the other hand, you could have just let them fly back to Dragonstone."

Aemond turned and grabbed Aegon by his collar, wondering how everyone would react if he threw him off the battlements. "Are you truly so blinded by revenge that you are willing to completely destroy this family?"

"How dare you insult my want for revenge! It seemed to be fine when you chased them into that storm. You're a kinslayer, little brother. I don't intend to join the likes of you." Aegon spat. He opened his mouth to say more but noticed everyone's eyes on them, including Aemma's. He pushed off of Aemond and stormed past him back into the Keep. 

Aemma gave Aemond a questioning look before turning back to her sparring partner, easily knocking him into the dirt. 

"Who's next?" She called out.