Wild Dragon ࿐ House Of The Dragon

━━━━━━ (𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛)

Aemma reclined in her bed, her arms cross over her chest with a deep frown as she leaned against the headboard of her bed, ensconced beneath a mountain of blankets and sheets.

She despised being treated like some fragile porcelain doll. They surrounded her as if she had sustained a grievous wound on how they scatter around her asking her constantly if she was comfortable or if anything hurt. In this context, "they" unequivocally referred to Daemon and Joffrey; since the revelation of Luke's passing, she hadn't seen her mother. Meanwhile, her father and brother wouldn't stop hovering over her, and it was getting a bit irritating.

That particular week cast a pall of anguish over the entire household. Rhaenyra was perpetually in tears, her grief a constant presence that seeped into the very walls. Baby Aegon and Viserys, though too young to comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy, seemed to absorb the sorrow and tension of everyone around them, their usual playfulness subdued.

She had heard from the servants that Joffrey swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Prince Aemond and Lord Borros. Only the intervention of the Sea Snake kept him from mounting his own dragon and seeking retribution.

As for Jace, no one knew if he was even aware of what had befallen his younger brother. Aemma, despite the lack of explicit confirmation, harboured a conviction that he remained among the living. Vermax's sightings only provided a glimmer of reassurance.

As for herself, Aemma she had become a hollow shell in a state of near-starvation, grappling with elusive sleep, and scarcely exchanging words with anyone-except for the solace she sought in conversations with Daemon and the few ones with Joffrey.

Everyone knew that the princess did not possess such a cheerful personality, or was in any way similar to her four brothers. She was always more calculated and kept her thoughts more to herself, while complemented by occasional flashes of her father's temper.
Despite these facets, she held within her the radiant warmth of a smile that could light up even the darkest corners, and an innate kindness that surfaced when the occasion called for it. However, looking into her eyes, you could only see sadness and anger.

Aemma couldn't eat even if she wanted too, her body resisting even the slightest morsel, she didn't feel hungry and was constantly paranoid of being poised. She also couldn't sleep, each time her eyes closed, nightmares unfurled like relentless shadows of Aemond killing Luke in all the terrible ways she could imagine.

Initially, she shouldered the weight of guilt, casting blame upon herself, perhaps if she didn't spend so many years lovestruck by Aemond, she would have reciprocated Aegon feelings since the first moment. They could have been wed by now, perhaps with even with kids that Aemma has dreamed of having for a few years, her mother sitting on the Iron Throne, and Lucerys alive.

It wasn't that she was entirely immune to feelings for Aegon, she used to have feelings toward Aegon, in her weird unique way, yet, these sentiments only took root after their first night together and when they started to secretly meet up across the Narrow Sea, away from prying eyes in Westeros.
That much was clear even amid her diverse experiences with both men and women across the narrow sea in her adventures throughout the years, she would always come back to Aegon bed.

She knew better than to indulge such feelings, but, at the same time, she has a soft spot for sad, broken, pathetic things.

The thrill of sleeping with the man married to Helaena, after she had been with Aemond, added an extra layer of pleasure to the whole thing.

From her window, Aemma had seen her mother mounting Syrax and flying away, and that made her leave her room for the first time in days, ready to mount Cannibal and follow her mother no matter where she was headed. However, she was intercepted by Daemon.