The Realms Rose | Aemond Targaryen / Daemon Targaryen

LIII

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Aemond found himself standing in the throne room, a young child, with hair of white and eyes of green beside him, his small clammy hands grasping at the bottom of his tunic.

Around them, the room was eerily silent, a sinister stillness in the air. The throne, so large and imposing, seemed to loom over them like a malevolent specter. There was a feeling of immense dread and danger in the air, as if something terrible was about to happen.

Aemond felt a sudden fear grip him tightly. The throne room felt almost like a place of death, as if the very stones themselves were haunted by some ancient tragedy. The sense of dread thickened, making it hard to breathe. Beside him, the child seemed to share his unease, their small hands clenching and unclenching a handful of Aemond's tunic, the silence broken only by the child's soft whimpers.

He tried to move, to break the spell, but his feet felt rooted to the floor, weighed down by the silence and the foreboding air that hung heavy in the room.

What was so familiar about this boy by his side?

The boy tugged on the edge of his tunic, a small whimper escaping from his throat. Aemond looked down, studying the child's face. There was something so familiar about those green eyes...

"Who are you?" He asked the child.

The boy trembled as Aemond knelt in front of him, his small frame shivering like a leaf in the wind. Fear and confusion mixed in his wide green eyes, and he gulped back a sob, trying to speak.

"F-father..." He whispered, his voice no louder than a mouse's squeak.

"Father?" Aemond repeated, surprised. Was the boy mistaking him for his father?

The boy looked up at Aemond, his bottom lip quivering. He seemed on the verge of tears, his small frame trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"Father..." He said again looking around the room, this time a little louder. "Where's mummy?"

Aemond's heart skipped a beat. The word "father" echoed in his mind, its sound a harsh blow that knocked the breath out of him. Father...mummy...

He knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. "W-what did you say?" He stuttered, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

The boy's bottom lip trembled, his small frame shaking like a leaf in the wind. He looked up at Aemond, his green eyes wide with fear.

"M-mummy." He repeated, his voice a barely audible whisper. "Where's mummy? I want my mummy."

Aemond felt a lump form in his throat, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. This boy, calling him father, asking for his mother... It was all too much to process.

"Your...your mother?" he echoed, his voice hoarse and thick. "Who is your mother, boy?"

Aemond had been so focused on the boy and the strange dream that he hadn't noticed the ominous shadow lurking behind the throne. Now, as the figure stepped into view, he froze, his heart thudding in his chest.

It was Aurora.

She stood before them, her form silhouetted against the gloomy throne room backdrop. Aemond stared at her, confusion and disbelief mixing in his mind.

Aurora approached slowly, her footsteps soft on the stone floor. She looked almost like an apparition in the dim light, her auburn hair glowing faintly in the darkness.