The True and The Brave

𝔑𝔦𝔫𝔢: ℌ𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔱 𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱

[Hello my dear readers, as you have guessed, this book is coming to an end. This will be the last chapter. However, there will be a much-needed epilogue after some of the blank spaces and characters that you did not see in this chapter. I hope you have truly enjoyed every morsel of this mess I call fanfiction. Thank you. Thank you for it all. 

I hope that one day I can look back on this book, perhaps when season two comes, and I can write a new one from a whole new perspective. Perhaps I can write someday other ffs for so many other stories. I am just glad that you are here reading this and that I can share this with you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and truly, I hope you have liked this book. If you'd like to talk or express your thoughts, my DMs are always open. I thank each and every one of you— even those ghost readers that I tried to reprimand in the earlier stages of this book] 

 [WARNING: GET YOUR TISSUES OUT PEOPLE BECAUSE I CERTAINLY CRIED WRITING THIS CHAPTER MORE THAN ANY OTHER] 

Aemma had slept for three days. The King had taken healers to revise his wounds and those blue and violet bruises that littered her body.  He'd have to fill her in when she'd recovered.  Tell her about how he was tempted to make their promise evermore as that obsidian Valyrian sword of hers was ready and aimed for his heart— if she ever woke up. 

Sitting in a chair beside her bed, Aemond toed off his boots and rubbed at the faint, lingering soreness in his leg. A burn that had reminded him of his brother. His words etched forever on his memory. Who had Aegon killed that had made him obedient and tame to his cause? Would the fourteen flames of Balerion ever forgive him for turning his head when his little brother called and he did not listen? Aemond shuddered at the thought. He remembered arriving at Dragonstone, ready to unleash hellfire and she was there. His Aemma. 

And Aemma— that brilliant, insane fool— had taken a tremendous risk in buying them all time to topple Aegon's armies from the inside whilst she destroyed him from every angle she could. He inspected those marks on her wrists and ankles, the iron manacles digging into her skin when she had tried to rip them off, the faded color of her once luscious locks, the colorless glow that once marred her brown skin. She had been so foolish, had taken the burden only to herself. And yet he could not fault her for that. 

Aemond turned his head and glared at her. And found Aemma glaring back 

"I saved the war", Aemma said, her voice like gravel, "and yet when I wake up to you being pissy."

Aemond stood from the chair nearby "Your rescue was a group effort. And I'm pissy for twenty different reasons, most of them having to do with you making some of the most reckless decisions I've ever—"

"I'm here", she blurted. 

"I'm here", she repeated, her frantic eyes inspecting the room. 

"Fireheart", Aemond murmured, starting from his chair, but she shook her head. The movement made her skull throb. 

She took a steadying breath, wiping at her eyes. She was here. It was over at last. She was dragged out of Dragonstone and into the Red Keep. She was alive. She was here. Aemond was here and so was her family. 

Aemond slowly kneeled before her bed, cupping her cheek, and took a steadying breath— as if he'd thought about every word these past three days, over and over again.  "I spent months wandering every corner of Westeros, toppled armies and generals, never settling, never stopping—not for one moment. I was always looking toward the horizon, always wondering what waited for us. That whole time I was searching for you, Aemma. My soul would not depart this place if it is not with yours".