Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Fifty Six

The sea route from Dragonstone to King's Landing had been a cold, rainy, and long journey.

Aesira had spent most of it huddled in her cabin, wrapped in a thick cloak, as the boat pitched and rolled through the choppy waves. The constant sound of raindrops pattering against the deck and the ship's timbers added to the dreary atmosphere.

She tried to pass the time by reading, but the motion of the boat made it difficult to focus on the pages. So she'd visit her chained dragon but Sakaris was restless, remanded in her own prison below deck. Lord Otto had once told her that a Targaryen would sell their soul to taste the sky again. Aesira couldn't imagine how much worse it must be for a dragon, who made the sky it's home.

On the second day, the rain intensified and the winds picked up, making the journey even more uncomfortable. Aesira found it hard to eat or sleep, and the small crew of sailors seemed just as miserable as she was. No one had wanted to go on this trip. And for the crew, they would need to sail Rhaenyra's ship back to Dragonstone after they delivered Aesira to her new captors.

By the third day, Aesira was almost too glad to see King's Landing on the horizon. She couldn't wait to get off the boat and onto solid ground. The sight of the city's tall towers and walls brought a sense of relief, despite the gloom that hung over it. Were they mourning the life of King Viserys the Peaceful, were they uneasy towards the promise of war that clung to every throat in the city or, most likely, it was just the poor weather?

As the boat docked in the murky harbor, Aesira disembarked, her feet finally touching solid ground. She breathed in the familiar smell of the city, a mixture of sea salt, smoke, and the damp earth. It was different from the usual unpleasant odour of the over-populated city. The weather had played a role in hiding the stench.

Aesira felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips, she may not have been glad to be back in the capital city, but having the sea journey behind her was a boon she would not pass up.

Once docked, Aesira was led into the royal wheelhouse, still feeling the effects of the rough sea voyage. She had barely made it off the boat before upending the contents of her stomach.

As Aesira dabbed at her lips with the cloth handed to her by Alis, she released a deep sigh. She had always avoided traveling by boat, the motion of the waves made her feel queasy and uneasy. She was born a Targaryen, a proud dragon-riding family, instead of a Velaryon, a maritime family known for their naval power and wealth.

Aesira took a moment to compose herself, mustering her resolve and fortitude. She straightened her posture, lifting her chin and inhaling a deep breath, before making her way to the wheelhouse.

Inside the wheelhouse, she was taken aback by the unexpected sight before her. Usually adorned with the signature red and black colors of House Targaryen, had been refashioned in a forest green color scheme.

The wheelhouse was spacious and well-appointed, with large windows offering panoramic views of the scenery they passed. The walls were paneled in dark green wood, while the floor was covered in a plush carpet in a matching shade. Brass fittings and fixtures added a touch of elegance, while intricate carvings and inlaid designs adorned seats.

Despite the opulence and grandeur of the wheelhouse, Aesira couldn't shake off the feeling of disgust. She missed the bold and striking red and black colors of her family's emblem, and the green hue felt like a betrayal of her heritage.

Washing the Red Keep in Hightower colours and religious symbolism hadn't been enough, it seemed.

The wheelhouse made its way through the streets of King's Landing and Aesira noticed the eerie silence that hung over the city. It was easily midday, and yet the streets were deserted, with only the sound of their wheelhouse and the cart behind them making any noise at all.