Innocence// AEMOND TARGARYEN ✔️

Chapter Thirty-seven

It had been four years since Eirlys' miscarriage. The princess did not wish to speak of it the moment the funeral was done and over with. The topic was rather sensitive and she didn't like having to recall the events.

Her sorrow did not stay with her long as she spent most of her time looking after her daughter, who as Aemond had told her, was growing up to be very similar to herself: bright and cheerful.

"Kepa look!" Lyra excitedly climbed into her father's lap, interrupting whatever it is he was reading "I'm you"

The prince put away his book to bestow his complete attention upon his daughter, who seemed very eager to show him something.

Aemond, no matter how busy he was with something, always made time for his daughter. He constantly made sure she knew how much he loved and adored her, something he wished his father had done.

All his life he grew up without his father's affection. Sometimes it felt as though the king resented the notion to be known as his father.

He did not want his daughter growing up the same way.

The prince turned to look at her and immediately, an amused smile crept to his face.

The girl had used some ink to draw herself a scar on her face and then held one of her father's eye patches over her eye. She'd drawn the scar on the wrong side of her face though, since she'd mirrored his appearance.

"Why, you look a lot more charming in comparison to me" Aemond playfully tapped her nose "how- ah I'm offended"

"N-noo" she giggled as she reached up to wrap her arms around her father "you have a nice face kepa, I like your face"

"Why aren't you attending your lessons?" He asked as he held her so that she might not fall.

"I don't like the septa" she truthfully answered as she began to play with Aemond's long hair "and I don't like em.. embri... the thing with the sharp needle and coloured strings"

The prince laughed at his daughter's inability to pronounce the word.

She was only five and she already had a fondness for talking a lot, despite not knowing a number of words to describe whatever it was she was trying to rant about.

"I want to fly with Merikh" the young girl told as she began to braid Aemond's hair.

He didn't mind her untidy and uneven braids amidst his straight platinum hair. He often kept those braids in even as he went about his day and only undid them when he went to bathe.

"He's too little to fly" Aemond smiled as he tried to remind his daughter, again "and so are you"

Skyllŷra had named her beautiful midnight-blue dragon after a villainous character she'd read in one of her books. 'Merikh' meant death, slaughter and both Aemond and Eirlys were surprised their darling of a daughter had chosen a name that was a complete contrast to her personality.

"There she is" Eirlys grinned as she waled into the room "the septa was awaiting you"

"Our daughter seems to hate needlework as much as you did" Aemond turned to look at his wife "perhaps she doesn't need those lessons?"

"Don't encourage her prūmia" (heart) Eirlys gave her husband a stern look "she's too young to train with weaponry nor is she able to attend any lessons with Merikh. Needlework, etiquette and Valyrian is all she can spend her time at, I'm afraid"

Lyra made an audible fussing sound.

"Aōha muña is right" (your mother) Aemond told her "a princess has certain responsibilities"