Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Forty Four

 Aesira's chambers were spacious and grand, with high vaulted ceilings and ornately carved stone walls.

The room was filled with comfortable furnishings, including a large canopied bed with plush velvet curtains and a plush armchair by the fireplace. Aesira's dressing table was adorned with an array of perfumes, makeup, and jewelry, and there was a small sitting area with a table and chairs where she'd spent years studying books on mastering her bo-staff.

Gwyn helped Aesira into a chainmail-grey dress and a leather gorget, while Aesira stood lost in her thoughts, staring at the black cloak draped over the armchair before her hearth. Gwyn had offered more than once to take the cloak to the castle laundress for washing, but Aesira couldn't bring herself to part with it. The cloak was filled with the lingering scent of Aemond, and it reminded her of home.

The night before, Aesira had wept for her uncle, but also for her husband whom she longed to see. The longing for Aemond was a constant burn in her chest, and the sleep she found rarely gave her a reprieve. Each day without him felt like an eternity, and the cloak was a small comfort, the only thing that kept her connected to him. 

As Aesira pushed aside her thoughts and emotions, she made her way through the grand castle passageways towards the room of the Painted Table, taking in the stunning grandeur of the castle. The walls were adorned with beautiful tapestries and intricate paintings, and the floors were made of gleaming marble that shimmered in the light of the flickering torches.

The passageways were well-lit, and the air was filled with the sounds of the castle's inhabitants going about their daily business. The hustle and bustle of the castle was a constant reminder of the importance of her role as a member of the Rhaenyra's court, and the weight of her responsibilities.

As Aesira approached the room of the Painted Table, she prepared herself mentally and emotionally for the challenging task that lay ahead. She knew that she had to find a way to leave Dragonstone without being detected, and she was resolved to do whatever it took to make it happen. She needed to see Aemond.

Aesira descended the stairs, feeling the rough texture of the stone stairs beneath her boots, and heard the sounds of the council members debating their options in the hall. The air was filled with the smell of smoke from the torches and the faint scent of incense.

Aesira took her place beside Luke, her hands clasped in front of her, and noticed that Baela and Rhaena were not present.

Lord Staunton was addressing the council, his voice grave and serious as he spoke. "I have received confirmation that the Hightowers have conscripted the aid of the Triarchy to sail for them," he said. "We cannot mount an attack on King's Landing if we need to be defending our own stronghold here on Dragonstone. And if we move inland for the attack, we risk losing Dragonstone altogether."

Lord Emmon nodded, his forehead creased with worry as he spoke. "If Driftmark remains undeclared, they could be overrun as well, simply for being in the way," he said.

Before anyone could add anything, Ser Erryk stepped forward and announced, "Lord Corlys of House Velaryon."

The council members turned in unison to see Lord Corlys entering the room, leaning heavily on a walking stick, with Rhaenys by his side and their granddaughters behind them. His presence brought a sense of hope and stability to the room. With his battle prowess and sea voyages, it was no secret that his input would be invaluable.

Rhaenyra greeted Lord Corlys warmly, "Lord Corlys, how happy we are to see you hale and healthy again."

"Your Grace, I am grateful for your concern," Lord Corlys replied, bowing his head in respect.