Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Forty Seven

Rhaenyra stood atop the battlements of Dragonstone, her gaze fixed on the tumultuous sea below.

The wind was strong and salty, whipping through her hair as she stared out over the endless expanse of water. The sound of the crashing waves against the rocks below was a constant, soothing background to her thoughts.

As she stood there lost in her thoughts, Aesira approached, joining her in her contemplation of the sea. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, taking in the power and majesty of the ocean.

"Your Grace," Aesira cleared her throat to break the silence, her voice carrying over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

Rhaenyra turned to Aesira, her eyes squinting against the wind. "Aesira," she said, her voice firm. "What brings you out here?"

"I come to request your permission to accompany Luke to Storm's End," Aesira said, her voice carrying a hint of determination. "I fear that the Baratheon forces may be tempted to push him into a corner, and I wish to ensure his safety, with your leave."

Rhaenyra's expression softened, and she nodded. "I understand your concern," she said. "But the decision is ultimately Luke's. He must be allowed to prove himself as a true Targaryen Prince and leader. I will put the request to him and let you know his decision."

Aesira nods, understanding the Queen's reasoning. "Your Grace, I just wish to ensure he returns home safely." The wind whipping through the battlements of Dragonstone, the sound of the crashing waves below and the seabirds cawing in the distance, added to the already tense atmosphere.

Rhaenyra placed a reassuring hand on Aesira's shoulder. "I understand your concern, Aesira. But undermining Luke's agency ahead of such an important task won't help. The decision is his." The Queen's words were spoken with a sense of calm and authority, her voice carrying over the sounds of the sea.

Just then, Ser Erryk approached with two silhouettes following him. Ser Steffon announced the arrival of two figures, his calm and steady voice carried over the wind and waves, "Prince Jacerys and Prince Lucerys, Your Grace."

As the two princes approached, Aesira could see that both princes were dressed in new red and black dragon riding leathers. The leathers were made of the finest quality, with intricate designs of dragons embroidered in gold thread. The red symbolized the blood of the dragon, while the black symbolized the darkness of the night.

Jace's leathers were adorned with golden scales that shimmered in the sunlight, while Luke's were adorned with silver scales that glinted in the moonlight, the silver scales was a small nod to compliment the pearlescent white scales of his dragon. Both princes wore their leathers with a sense of pride, their dragons' sigils emblazoned on their chest, a testament to their heritage.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath and looked at her sons with a mixture of pride and concern. "Everyone thinks that Targaryens are closer to gods than to men," she said, her voice steady and resolute. "And it is true that the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer to the gods. But if we must serve the Seven Kingdoms, then we must answer to their Gods as well."

The princes listened intently, their expressions serious as their mother spoke. The weight of her words was not lost on them. They understood the responsibility that came with being a Targaryen and a lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

With that, Rhaenyra nodded to Ser Steffon, who stepped forward and handed her a copy of the Seven. The ancient text was bound in leather, the cover adorned with the sigils of the Seven Gods. Rhaenyra held it in her hands, the weight of the book heavy with the responsibility of the oaths it held.

Rhaenyra stood before her sons with the holy book of the Seven held out before them. "Place your hands on the book," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "And swear to go as messengers, not as warriors."