𝙺𝙰𝙻𝙾𝙽 ° aemond targaryen

Act Three, Scene Three

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"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝙸𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎"
𝟷𝟸𝟾 𝙰𝙲 - 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎
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THE WHISTLE OF THE BITTER winds blew through the small window in the girl's cell, leaving her to curl further into herself for even a sliver of warmth. It had been a few days since her talk with Rhaenyra, and all she had wanted to do was break out of this cell to see her child.

      You are still our prisoner. The words the woman had spoke echoed back to Vaella, as if the cold wind had brought them to her over and over again. The idea that she was, in fact, a prisoner had not strayed from her mind.

The cell she had been kept in stank of mildew and grime, the stone walls doing nothing to keep out the cold that swept over Dragonstone once the sun dipped below the horizon. Her food was all but dropped on the dirt covered floor whenever it was delivered—only once a day and, by the time the girl got to it, was hardly edible.

Vaella yearned to be free again, to be able to leave the small confines of the room and feel the sun properly on her ashy skin. She wanted nothing more to see her husband, to feel his hand on her cheek, his body pressed against hers. She wanted to feel the weight of her baby in her arms, to hold the child that she had carried for so long inside her.

      The sound of the door unlocking had the girl quick on her feet. Her heart hammering in her chest, and yet she held her head up and remained impassive as the door swung open. She could not quite keep her resolve, however, as the person that walked through was not who she was expecting.

"Baela?" The elder girl said, her brows furrowed. "What...what are you doing here?"

"The queen sent me," Her younger sister replied, glancing over her shoulder in almost a sense of unease before back to the girl before her. "She summons you to her chambers for a midday meal."

      Vaella scoffed, looking away. "She treats me like dirt, keeps me from my son and then invites me to dine with her?" The girl shook her head slowly. "She can go rot."

       Baela sighed, moving closer to her half-sister. Despite knowing that they fought for different rulers—and the things that were said and done in the past—she somehow could sense that the elder girl would not do anything to harm her.

      "The queen deeply regrets what she had said, you know..." She trailed off for a moment, waiting for any indication her sister was listening to her, before she continued. "She is a mother herself, and she feels awful that she had allowed Daemon to get into her head and-"

      Vaella's head snapped towards the girl in an instant and the mention of her blood father's name. She could feel the rage boiling up inside her at the thought of him being the only truly keeping her away from her child.

     It was not Rhaenyra; it was her father using her as a puppet. The thought did not truly surprise her.

     "Her Grace wishes to make amends with you," Baela's voice caused the girl to focus on her again, trying to look past the rage that was slowly clouding her vision. "Will you at the very least hear her out?"

𖤍

Vaella had never truly been to Dragonstone—she had been locked inside of a cell for nearly the last fortnight, so she was not counting it. The girl marveled at the stonework as she followed her half-sister through the halls. Despite its beauty, however, there was a mystery to it that had the elder girl on edge.