𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 ✶ aemond targaryen

Three

✶

As noon approached, Elara could feel her nerves tightening their grip. She tried to maintain her composure, but the tremor in her breath was impossible to conceal. Her palms had too soon grown clammy with anxious sweat despite her attempts to steady herself.

Meeting her newly betrothed was always going to be a daunting affair, but her anxiety was of a different kind than expected. It wasn't the flutter of butterflies any would have preferred in a circumstance similar to this, but rather a heavy blanket of dread that settled over her.

Her betrothed had killed his very own nephew—an innocent boy no older than four and ten. A child, by all accounts. Murdered in what she could only assume was cold blood.

She wrestled with her thoughts, trying to find some rational explanation that would mitigate her fear. Perhaps the boy had been a formidable warrior and, despite his youth, the prince had been forced into a deadly confrontation. After all, with a war on the horizon, such encounters were not unimaginable. They would have met on the battlefield at some point or another.

Yet, despite her attempts to reason it away, the unsettling news her servant had conveyed gnawed at her insides, leaving her feeling uneasy and on edge as the fateful meeting drew closer.

This wasn't a battlefield. This was a home of one of the great houses. It was supposed to be a diplomatic encounter, not a violent one. But, in preparation for war, there was always room for things to go wrong.

"It will be fine, Frost. I'm sure there is a logical explanation as to what happened at Storm's End. Besides, this meeting is not to talk of such things but to allow me a chance to meet my future husband."

The dire wolf tilted his head as he looked at her, his eyes soft. He always could sense Elara's discomfort.

She wished more than anything that he could accompany her on this meeting but it would be improper to take such a creature along to a lunch such as this. It would not make for a good first impression. Then again, she was yet to even formally meet the man and he had already made quite a distinguishable impression on her.

A gentle knock at Elara's door drew her from her turbulent thoughts. With a resigned sigh, she smoothed down her dress and composed her nerves before crossing the room to open it. 

Reila stood on the other side, her face illuminated by a warm, reassuring smile. "Good afternoon, milady. The queen mother sent me to fetch you for your lunch."

Elara offered a polite nod as she silently followed Reila down the corridor. As they moved through the labyrinthine passages of the keep, Elara took in the rich tapestries and towering arches, silently promising herself that she would soon navigate the maze of a home with confidence. For now, she was grateful for Reila's steady presence, a comforting guide through the unfamiliar territory.

Soon, Elara found herself stepping into the very gardens she had overlooked the night before. Beautiful in the way they bathed under the bright afternoon sun. She could swear the very flowers glistened as she walked by.

The warmth of the sun was relentless, and despite the lightweight dress gifted to her by the queen mother, Elara felt the heat clinging to her. It was certainly something she would have to get used to. She could only shudder to think what the peak of summer must be like in King's Landing.

As she rounded the final corner and saw him sitting there, she was suddenly pleased to see the queen mother again, lest she have to meet the cold-hearted killer she was to wed alone. It was the first time since her arrival in Winterfell that Elara genuinely felt a sense of ease at seeing her.