The Prince and His Flower

O N E - H U N D R E D - F I V E

Aemma

Laenor took them to his home, a tall stone-grey building that mirrored the rest that lined the cobblestone street. Each house was nearly identical, and they all leaned on each other like one long mass of stone that stretched for nearly a mile. The city of Braavos was built on hundreds of small islands, and on top of these islands were cobbled streets and bridges, with canals running parallel to nearly every road. Nobody used horses, instead, they used small boats to navigate the canals, while the merchants pushed their wares through the streets in wheelbarrows. 

The language was Valyrian, but a different dialect than Aemma was used to, and it was much harsher than the elegant way her family spoke; no, the way Aemond spoke. Everyone sounded like they were clearing their throat, and she could only understand the context of what they were saying, missing nearly every other word. 

Two young boys were pretending to be knights in combat outside her father's house, and although they were using wooden swords, all she heard was metal. The pungent scent of the canal was replaced by the smell of smoke and boiling blood, and when she closed her eyes she was on a battlefield, men burned to ash all around her. 

"Aemma?" Laenor touched her shoulder, gently rousing her from her spell. She was inside now but didn't remember how she got there. Jace and another man stood before her, their faces mirroring each other with concern.

"I'm fine," she touched his hand, but when he watched her burned hand for too long she pulled it away, folding her arms and tucking her hands out of sight. "It's been a long journey, we're just a bit weary."

It had been an oddly silent walk, but now her father was ready to talk.

"It must have been difficult... there's so much I want to say to you, to the both of you." He rubbed his jaw. He looked nervous, happy, sad, and relieved all at the same time. "When I heard about you and Luke I wanted to come back, to comfort your mother, and you as well Jace. But I received a letter that told me if I returned I would face a worse fate than my children."

Daemon must have sent the letter or had someone send it on his behalf. He seemed to have gone mad in such a short amount of time, or perhaps he had been mad long before then, and everything that happened just allowed his true self to come to light.

Aemma had been six years old, and her father had taken them to the Dragonpit to spend time with their dragons. He had placed her on his shoulders and held Luke and Jace's hands, parading them through the streets like a merchant with his most prized possessions. He walked them through the cobbled streets, accompanied by no more than a handful of goldcloaks and a purse full of golden dragons, handing them out to anyone who stopped to get a closer look at the royal family. 

"Jace, you will rule over these all people one day. Let them see their future king!" He smiled. "Luke, I shall parade you around Driftmark one day."

"What about me?" Aemma had asked him.

"You will be by my side of course. Jace is to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and Luke is to rule Driftmark. But you, my sweet princess, are the one that will keep us all together." 

That day had been over a decade ago, but it was fresh in her mind as if it were mere days.

"I always kept Luke safe, but when we faced the end... he was the one to save me." She bit her lip, the sting of Luke's loss never ceasing. "I think about him every day, all of the time. I thought of you just as often."

"I never meant to abandon you, I love my children more than life itself!" He caressed their cheeks. "The years have not been kind to us all."

Aemma looked down, aware of the small scars that littered her face and her hollow cheeks, her dark eyes and her grotesque hands. Jace looked handsome as ever, grief etched into his elegant features. She almost felt jealous at how untouched his youthful face was, but she knew it wasn't fair. He was supporting their mother while she was crusading in forests and small castles.