Nefarious || Aemond Targaryen

26

Another week has passed since the announcement of her betrothal. Another week in which her mind was spent somewhere else while her body repeated the same day to day routine. She would wake up, break her fast, have lessons in herbivore with the Maester, have lunch with Helaena, train with Ser Criston, take a warm bath, spend some time alone or in her chambers or walking around the castle walls, have dinner, sleep.

Her life had turned into an endless boring cycle and it was driving her mad. Cregan has already arrived back to Winterfell, she knew because he had already sent her two ravens. He sent the first one when he arrived, he sent the second one several days after she didn't answer. Truth be told, she didn't know what to say, but she would answer... eventually. When she was ready to answer.

Today was going to be a day like any other, she had woken up, broken her fast, had lessons in herbivore with the Maester and had lunch with Helaena. Just as she was about to dismiss herself to head to her chambers and change to more comfortable for her training with Ser Criston she was approached by no other that Ser Criston himself.

"Princesses." He begins. "Princess Aemma, the King has requested your presence. He wishes to speak to you of an important matter."

Aemma froze in her spot. She adored her grandsire, she knew he loved her deeply and only wanted what was best for her. Although the reason for his love to her was for being his favorite daughter's first born, she still appreciated his love. But the last time he requested a presence with her was to betroth her and take away her freedom and now, she couldn't help but 'fear' what was to come.

Turning to Helaena to dismiss herself, she begins to make her way behind her father to what she would only assume would be the small council room much like the previous time. But as they continued to walk in silence towards wherever they were going, Aemma noticed that they were in fact heading to his private apartments.

The only other time that she had been at his private apartments was a joyous time, one where she went to speak of her betrothal, but now she couldn't help but wonder why the King wishes to speak to her. He speaks to her more than he does with his own children.

Arriving at his private apartments she attempts to push the door open and enter only to be blocked by the guard. The guard, one she doesn't recognize, swiftly stops her from opening the door stating, "The King is receiving treatment at the moment, you may enter when he is finish, princess, he wishes you to not see him in such a state."

Aemma's heart clenched as the muffled groans of pain seeped through the closed doors of the king's chambers. She shifted restlessly, anxiety gnawing at her as she stood outside, waiting for the treatment to finish. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her gown, a nervous gesture she couldn't control.

Every groan was a painful reminder of the suffering the king was enduring. Aemma's loyalty to the royal family ran deep, and her grandsires well-being was a matter close to her heart. She wished there was more she could do to help, to ease his pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened, and the no other that Otto Hightower emerged, his expression as emotionless as always. "The treatment has been administered," he said, his voice corse. "You may speak with him now, princess."

Aemma simply nodded her head before entering his chambers, coming face to face with the King who was laying in bed resting. He looked so weary that Aemma couldn't even bare to imagine the pain he must have went through.

"Your grace." she greeted once she reached his bedside.

"Ah, my sweet Aemma, sit, sit." he answered, his voice even weaker than he looked.