Bleed for the throne| 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘴

ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ5

Aemma sat in her chair, leaning down to read the High Valyrian passage aloud, carefully pronouncing each word as her mother and the septa listened attentively.

"мσяgнσт иє∂уѕѕу ѕєѕιяzυgυѕу αzαитуѕ νєѕтяαѕ, (the Knight says that even brave men fear death)" Aemma recited, her young voice filled with determination.

Rhaenyra smiled proudly. "ѕуz, (good)" the septa replied in High Valyrian. They had decided that immersing Aemma in the language would aid her understanding.

Aemma looked up from her book with curiosity. "ѕкσяку∂σѕσ αмαzιgσи ρα тασвαѕ ℓι ∂ασя αʝσяяαєℓαgσи gυяєиαgσи ναℓуяє (Why aren't the boys required to learn Valyrian)?" she asked, her gaze shifting between the adults.

Her inquiry reflected the disparity in language education between her and her brothers, who had the choice to learn Valyrian or not, unlike Aemma, who faced the requirement due to customs.

Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with the septa before responding to Aemma's question. "Customs sometimes vary. However, learning Valyrian will serve you well in understanding our heritage and connecting with our history."

Aemma nodded, absorbing the explanation. The septa encouraged her, "Keep practicing, Princess. You're doing good."

As Aemma continued reading, the words echoed in the room. Rhaenyra observed with pride

︎⇘➶︎⇘➶︎⇘➶︎⇘➶︎

In the stables, Renesmee, disguised in a brown dress and a crimson red cloak, assisted the shepherds with the horses. While helping a girl secure a saddle, the stable girl spoke up, "You don't have to help, you know."

Renesmee flashed a determined smile. "I want to." The sincerity in her words resonated with the stable girl, and a shared understanding passed between them.

Their eyes met for a lingering moment, a silent acknowledgment of a connection formed. The stable girl cleared her throat, breaking the gaze. "I think we're finished," she said softly, her eyes shifting to the contented brown horse.

Renesmee smiled, appreciating the camaraderie she found in these humble tasks. "Thank you for letting me help," she expressed, a genuine warmth in her voice. The stable girl returned a nod and walked away.

Leaving the stables, Renesmee pulled her hood up and explored Intrigued, Renesmee entered a jewelry shop where skilled artisans sculpted delicate pieces. Her eyes were drawn to a small dragon necklace with a vivid blue gem clutched in the dragon's grasp.

The shopkeeper noticed Renesmee's gaze fixed on the necklace and approached her. "That was the last piece my son crafted before falling ill and passing away," she shared, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Renesmee's eyes widened with empathy. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly. The shopkeeper smiled appreciatively.

Renesmee's gaze softened, sensing the weight of the story. "It's beautiful. Why did he make it?"

The shopkeeper smiled fondly. "He dreamed of gifting it to one of the Targaryen children. A piece of art for the royal family."

"How much?" Renesmee asked tentatively. "I mean, if you're willing to sell."

The shopkeeper smiled warmly, surprising Renesmee with her response. "Free of charge," she said, adding a respectful "Princess," indicating she already knew the identity of the young Targaryen in her shop.

The shopkeeper continued, "My son would have wanted it to be a gift for one of the Targaryen children. He admired your family greatly."

The shopkeeper graciously hands Renesmee the necklace, and in response, Renesmee reaches into her pocket, leaving ten gold pieces on the counter.