❝With one eye a Targaryen violet and the other silver as the moon, she watched all and knew more. All of which she immortalised in bleeding black ink to be studied by the naive people of tomorrow.❞
Princess Rhaella, daughter of King Viserys I and Qu...
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HASTILY WALKING AWAY from, daring not to look back over his shoulder, Aemond entered High Tide. Flickering torches lit the way. Aemond's face contorted into revulsion; at himself, not Ella of course, for daring to think he was worthy of stealing a kiss from Princess Rhaella. The boy with platinum hair had every intention of returning to his chambers and allowing the tears, which built up in his amethyst eyes, to trickle down his face freely, like blood bursting from an open wound.
"Aemond, wait. Please, I wish to speak with you," implored the girl, her voice was weak and shaky. Reaching a frail hand out, she held onto Aemond, who grew rigid under her touch and refused to continue.
Though he did not look at her glossy white hair, glowing pink cheeks, straight and pointed nose, ample lips, or opposing silver and violet eyes; Aemond concentrated on the thick stone arches and calmly uttered: "Of course, sweet sister, whatever about?"
Foolish boy, acting as if he did not know. Avoidance was the best option, concluded Aemond, brushing the whole ordeal under the rug to be dealt with another time and by someone. Still, he ventured not to glance at the tender girl clasping his arm. Her delicate grip on him went far beyond the physical grasp; his soul yearned for her, his mind was entranced by her, and his body would throw him before metal or fire to save her.
"It's him." A voice echoed, and attention fell upon it. Rhaella saw four figures enter, her indignant kin: Jacaerys, Rhaena, Baela and little Lucerys.
"It's me," tepidly replied Aemond as he stepped forward, blocking Ella, who was innocent of any crime Aemond would be accused of, from the resentful glares.
Rhaena came closer, raising her tone: "Vhagar is my mother's dragon." The girl's anger pulsated in the dim room, apprehension sprouted in Rhaella's gut. Rhaena's passionate emotions were quick to infect the others. Aemond included.
"Your mother's dead," the boy spat bitterly, sneering at the girl as if she was in mourning. "And Vhagar has a new rider now."
"Aemond!" Quietly scolded Rhaella, eyes turning cold when he so callously jested their cousin's late mother. Now the others saw her; none were overly surprised, knowing well that where Aemond went he was likely to bring Rhaella with him. Following him like a helpless puppy, Baela, eldest child of Daemon and Laena, thought along with a range of words she could hurl at the pair; whilst Jacaerys had an opposing idea: can he do anything without her?
"She was mine to claim!" Rhaena declared. Rhaella visibly recoiled at the notion. Dragons could not be inherited. Aemond was well within his rights as a Targaryen to claim her, perhaps the timing could have been more thought out. "And you, Rhaella! How could you help him?"
Aemond reacted with venomous words: "Then you should've claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you." Gasping at such childish cruelty, Rhaella looked between the five individuals with wide eyes. The incident involving the pig took place a little while before Princess Rhaella left Oldtown for Court, albeit it was detailed heavily in a letter to her by a forlorn Prince. Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys were all wrong for their cruelty. Children were guilty of ghastly acts. And they so often got away with it with their innocent faces.
