Aemma Velaryon was the spitting image of her mother; she had pale silver hair, fair skin, and dazzling blue eyes. She was a Targaryen in all sense but her last name which she bore from her father Laenor Velaryon. She was the younger twin of Lucerys...
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A parcel had arrived for Aemma containing Ser Erryk's white cloak and a lock of black hair that she presumed belonged to Olyvar. Daemon knew she was home.
I know everything, my little Flower. Come meet me at Harrenhal and let us talk. I do not wish for bloodshed unless there is no other option. Ser Erryk and the boy needn't become another victim. Don't tell anyone, or else you'll receive their heads next.
-Your loving stepfather, Daemon
"How?" She cried out, dashing the empty box against the wall. It splintered into pieces, creating an oddly beautiful display of wood flying everywhere. Gods, how could she be so stupid? Ser Erryk was going to die, and Olyvar with him.
She moved quickly, throwing every item she deemed necessary into a sack, trashing her room in the process. She donned her riding leathers and strapped her sword to her side, pausing to touch the precious wooden dragon her grandsire had gifted her before rushing out into the corridor. She stopped outside Jace's door and slipped her hastily scribbled note under before silently dashing out of the castle.
Terrax was as eager to fly as she was; he soared through the air towards Harrenhal, happily croaking nearly the entire time. A pit formed in her stomach and it only seemed to worsen as they got closer and closer. Would Daemon simply mount Caraxes and fight her? Or was he truly trying to bargain? Perhaps he would wait for her to lower her guard before killing her outright. All of these situations seemed better than the ones that ended with the deaths of Ser Erryk and Olyvar. She couldn't imagine losing her beloved protector or the boy who reminded her so much of her brothers.
Even if she died, it would be for the better.
Harrenhal was massive, bigger than any castle Aemma had ever seen, save for Winterfell. The ruined towers gave it an eerie look, but also made it look too intimidating to even try and capture. She landed just outside the gates, urging Terrax to keep close by in case anyone tried anything. She took a few steps toward the gate and paused, debating whether or not she would be impaled by arrows if she simply strode through the gate.
"Daemon!" She called out. "You wished to speak with me; well here I am!"
"Gods, you sound insufferable." Daemon strode out confidently, swinging Darksister in his hand. "Too much time with those Hightower cunts, hm?"
Aemma immediately unsheathed her sword, wary of his approaching figure. She was a more than capable fighter, but she had never fought someone with as much experience as Daemon, nor did she want to.
"Why am I here?"
"Because you mounted your dragon and flew here." He laughed for a moment before returning to his serious demeanor. "You've put off my plans, and I need you to rectify your mistake."
"Your plans of what exactly? Manipulating my mother?"
"We both know what I want... you know because you want it too." He smiled when he saw the way she shifted uncomfortably at his words. "You pretend like you're doing this in the name of righteousness but you're just as bad as me. You want power, you have power, you're just too afraid to use it."
