Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Fifty Two

Aesira sat on a stool between her bed and her window, gazing out over the courtyard below.

The small folk bustled about their daily tasks, the seagulls overhead cried out as they flew by, and the distant ocean waves crashed against the shore. She had been locked away in her chambers for a week, and the scenery never really changed.

With a loud creak, her chamber doors swung open and Gwyn strode in, with a tray of food in her arms.

"They've finally allowed me a visitor?" Aesira sighed, trying not to snap at Gwyn who was innocent in this mess. "How kind of my captors."

"My apologies, my lady." Gwyn blubbered, not meeting Aesira's eyes, "No one would let me come sooner."

"It's alright. You're here now." Aesira understood how little say Gwyn would have had in all of that. "Gwyn, might you enlighten me as to the reason for the presence of such a large number of knights in the courtyard?"

Gwyn pressed her lips into a tight line and lowered her head as she placed the food tray on the small table. The silence told Aesira all she needed to know. The knights were there to ensure she would not climb down and make some grand escape.

The knights walked with a sense of purpose and determination. Their form was that of well-trained warriors, with their shoulders back and heads held high. They moved with a steady gait, each step taken with a measured precision that spoke to their years of experience and training. Their armor, adorned with intricate engravings and embellishments, glinted in the sunlight, reflecting the strength and power of the men who wore it. The clanking of their armor was the only sound that broke the silence as they walked in perfect unison, a powerful display of their discipline and camaraderie.

"Where has Prince Daemon gone?" Aesira asked, making her way to the small table and food laid out for her. She'd seen Caraxes take off a few days ago and had not seen them return.

Gwyn's eyes met hers, and she hesitated for a moment before murmuring under her breath, "Prince Daemon was said to have flown to Harrenhal to shore up our mainland allies, my lady."

It surprised Aesira to learn that Daemon was moving forward, despite the fact that Rhaenyra was still inconsolable in her quarters. From what she'd heard, Rhaenyra had not left her chambers since Arrax's body was returned. Aesira didn't blame her. Rhaenyra had lost her father, and two children in the span of a few days. Most people would be crippled by that level of loss.

"Has Jace returned from Winterfell yet?" she asked the Lady's Maid.

"He—"

Gwyn was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and in walked Jace. He had a rugged and windswept appearance, with his hair disheveled and his clothing still in the style of a rider. Aesira noticed that, despite his disheveled appearance, his cheeks were not reddened by windburn, indicating that he had been back at the castle for some time. Gwyn respectfully acknowledged Jace as the Prince of Dragonstone before quickly leaving the room, leaving Aesira alone with Jace.

Jace looked different. He had a stronger jawline and a sharper nose, a face chiseled by the elements, and his dew-brown eyes seem to sparkle. His riding leathers, once black and red, were a mix of black and brown. Jace stood taller, accentuating a confident and commanding presence.

Aesira tried to remind herself that she'd seen him a little over a week ago, regardless of how different he looked. But then she remembered how quickly Luke had changed before her eyes at Storm's End. This war had robbed them of whatever remained of their childhoods.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other. Aesira was flooded with grief, and Jace's face was a mask of sorrow.

"Could you explain how you were permitted to see me?" Aesira asked. "To my knowledge, having only changed today, access is limited to Gwyn."