Appetence || Aemond Targaryen

08

It's a strange feeling for Lyra to leave one funeral and arrive at another. This one is in Driftmark, a place she's never visited before. Despite arriving late, she and her father join the others in paying respects to the Velaryon family.

If she were honest with herself, Lyra isn't paying attention. She stares at the horizon, watching the waves come and go, her mind spinning with thoughts of Harrenhal. Besides, Ser Vaemond Velaryon is speaking Valyrian, and the only Valyrian she knows are commands for dragons—nothing else.

Lyra holds her hands tightly, feeling uncomfortable at yet another funeral and in the presence of everyone there. All she wants is to retreat to her room and stay there for a few days. She knows she needs to move on eventually, but she doesn't feel ready just yet.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a soft chuckle from Prince Daemon. She has no idea why he's laughing; she wasn't paying attention and doesn't understand a word of what Ser Vaemond is saying in Valyrian. Whatever it is, it can't be good, especially for Princess Rhaenyra, who is clutching Jacaerys and Lucerys tightly.

The ceremony concludes with Lady Laena's stone sarcophagus being dropped off a coastal cliff into the sea, to rest with her ancestors.

They all move to a cliffside courtyard of High Tide Castle for the wake. Lyra senses a strange atmosphere; everyone is acting distant and tense. She notices that Lord Otto Hightower is once again the Hand of the King after her grandfather's passing, which makes her angry. It may seem a petty thing to be angry about, but she can't believe how quickly he was replaced. She understands the King needs a Hand and why it had to be Hightower, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.

Princess Helaena held a spider in her hand while Lyra stood next to Aemond, with Aegon on his other side—already drinking, as usual. While away from Harrenhal, Lyra learned something disturbing:

Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena were to be wed by order of Queen Alicent Hightower.

Lyra felt both disgusted and pitying. Helaena didn't deserve to marry her brother; she deserved someone kinder. Moreover, she was only eleven and already betrothed to be married as soon as possible.

The thought made her stomach turn, and she felt nauseous. It's happening to Helaena first, but she could be next.

"Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh, weaving dragons of thread," Helaena repeated over and over, leaving the three of them bewildered.

"We have nothing in common," Aegon muttered, continuing his argument against their betrothal, a complaint he had voiced multiple times.

"She's our sister," Aemond stated.

"You marry her, then," Aegon retorted.

"I would perform my duty, if Mother had only betrothed us," Aemond replied without hesitation. Lyra's gaze shifted quickly towards him, feeling a pang of hurt she couldn't quite understand.

Aegon scoffed, bringing his goblet back to his mouth. "If only."

"It would strengthen the family and keep our Valyrian blood pure," Aemond said.

"She's an idiot," Aegon replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Aemond rolled his eyes. "She's your future queen."

"She isn't," Lyra interjected quickly, drawing their attention. "Rhaenyra is the future queen, not her."

Aemond's eyes narrowed."The realm won't accept her."

"The King—your father—named her as his heir. That's all that matters," Lyra reminded him.

Aemond shook his head, his voice growing more heated. "The realm needs a strong ruler, not a woman with those strong bastards."