The sound of the waves colliding against the rocks decorating the shore of Hightide reverberated repeatedly, until it was the mantra the soothed the ache residing in Aemma's chest. Laenor Velaryon was pronounced dead.
The gods could be cruel.
Though Laenors body did not return to the sea to be with his sister, Rhaenyra had insisted the he was with his sister, in spirit.
And so, Aemma stood spectator to the union of her mother and Prince Daemon - in the fashion of Old Valyria.
Aemma had learnt to appreciate the Valyrian ordeal much more than marriages in the sight of the Seven. It felt as if it could withstand more. As the blood poured from their hands, adorned their faces, Aemma could feel their dedication, admiration and...
Love.
It was clear as the water that surrounded Driftmark. Their deep affection burning through the irises, their pupils dilated, threatening to drown the flame with darkness of intimacy and adoration.
˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.
It was only after the ceremony did Aemma allow her silent tears to fall. Though she knew Laenor was not her biological father, he was the father that was there when Ser Harwin was not. He had loved them as if they were his own.
Aemma would miss him dearly, though she knew, in her cavernous soul that he rest with his sister. Peacefully. Away from the sanguinary that was this world.
˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.
"Though the Princess Aemma had never been seen as an erratic child, her personality held outliers of sorts. Small mishaps throughout her childhood that stood out amongst her brothers. For instance, the fear of rats. Though an ordinary fear, there were unusual incidents in which the Princess would be apprehensive and easily startled for hours because she believed "...the rats are lurking. Through the tunnels and halls, only those who built know.""
Though whenever questioned about said phobia the Princess Aemma only ever replied with 'Do you not feel it?'"- Entry of Maester Gerardys
˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.
Each night the same sound could be heard echoing off the mountains and the crevices forming Dragonstone.
It was only few hours ago that Aemma and her family returned from Driftmark, though she was eager to escape her chamber as the sun took its decent.
Was it a roar? Mayhaps a cry or plea for help? Aemma was unsure. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was to discover what was disturbing her sleep, and more importantly, her dreams.
A small, yet sharp knife held firm in her grip, with agile steps Aemma silently made way towards the bottom of the Dragonmont. She was cautious not be seen as the consequences could be harsh, her mother had warned her about leaving the matters be after Aemma subtly hinted towards the bellowing wails she had heard -to which her mother had not the slightest understanding. Her mother had not heard the sounds.
Unfortunately, Aemma was impatient. Deciding against her mothers wishes, she used all her strength to open the doors that blocked her way.
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𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 ┊ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤
Fanfiction"Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land." - George R.R Martin.
