Fire and Blood | A.Targaryen

Grieving Silence

Warnings - Grief, death , sh (digging your nails into your skin), violence, ideals forced on children

A/n - From here on it might be unedited therefore the spelling and grammar won't be very good sorry

THANK YOU FOR READING < 3

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It is solemn and cold. The sky was grey and the skin under my eyes dark I could feel my friend's eyes on me yet, I couldn't even bare to look at him. Baela and Rhaena clung to me in equal despair. I casted my eyes over my father's figure he's trying to be brave. He loved my mother.

The Valeryion house banner of Driftmark swayed with the biting breeze, the waves washing away the stone we stood on. Everyone was here, but not everyone mattered.

Baela turned away and allowed our grandmother to comfort her as Rhaena still held my hand, soft gasps seeped from their lips as their tears trailed down their melancholy faces.

I lifted my head watching everyone look down in 'sorrow'. They didn't even know my mother, not properly. Vaemond continued his speech. The old valaryian tongue.

My mother and father taught to me in it. My Kepa opting to speak to me in valaryian and my muna the common tongue when I was only a mere child.

My father looked down and laughed. I swallowed thickly looking up to stare at him with un-shed tears. Yet he did not care. He never cared.

The agonising snap of the rope as her casket was released. My breathing shallowed some as I watched the intricately carved wood casket slowly began to descend into the water.

The splash horrid splash of water finalising her fate - a pained reminder and memory the knowledge that she is never coming back.

I stood at the back once again watching. The bustle and chatter, the accompany of the soft winds loud in my ears. I feel sick. It's as if she has not died.

It's as if my mother meant nothing. I chewed the inside of my cheek not missing the way Baela held onto Jace's hand. The way they looked at one another, basking in the comfort they each offered.

Eventually my grandmother came to the twins hugging them tightly. Reassuring them. My father said warriors don't cry or need sympathy or need pity and yet, here I am craving it. Ignored and the only comfort to me is the whisper of grief and the already fading memories of my mother.

But, there he was. Finally stood next to you. He took your hand running his thumb over your knuckles just like he would at King's Landing when I missed my family and Pentos. I turned to look at him and his eyes screamed everything father told me not to want, but I needed it.

A shuddering sigh finally exhaled from my body and he hugged me. It was perfect in everywhere. Warm and sweet. It spoke volumes and put everything he wanted to say in that one action. The one thing I had wanted.

We pulled apart as Vahgar's grief echoed around Driftmark and I finally smiled. Watching the way his face lit up with curiosity. I looked away as my father marched past me and down the steps to the shore.

"I think I'm going to go to my bed now Aemond," I whispered still not meeting his eyes, not properly. He nodded understandingly giving my hand one final squeeze. I walked away my hand slipping from his.

My hands were clamped together in front of me, my eyes downcast once again. The stone walls were dull and grey. The stone was cold and smelled damp. At least there was no hulking metal man behind me.

Finally at my room. Solitude and silence. Sickly and sweet. I picked my book back up the same one I was reading only two nights ago. The fire crackled providing light and heat. I collapsed on the chair shaky hands holding the book refusing to open the pages.