House of Ashes | Aemond Targaryen

Thirteen

Chapter thirteen

Vaiana stood at the high, narrow window, her gaze distant and unfocused as she gnawed on her nails. She could hear the faint sounds of distant cheers and bells tolling from the city below. Aegon's coronation was underway, being crowned king at this very moment. The reality of it gnawed at her insides like a poison. Her mind swirled with thoughts of what this meant for her family, for her mother, for herself. And for the first time, she appeared truly disheveled, her usually composed demeanor shattered by the gravity of the situation. She felt trapped, the towering height mocking her desperate wish for escape.

Krakor, her loyal dragon, was chained in the Dragonpit, unreachable. The reckless part of her mind toyed with the idea of leaping, trusting Krakor's instinct to save her, but she knew such a leap would be folly.

The sound of the door unlocking snapped her back to reality. She stepped away from the window, her body tensing in defense. Ser Rickard Thorne entered, accompanied by another knight. They bowed respectfully, then lifted a large chest between them.

"It was sent from Pentos for you, Princess," Ser Rickard announced, his tone grave.

Vaiana eyed the chest warily. "What is it?" she asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

The knights exchanged a solemn glance before setting the chest on a nearby table. They unfastened the heavy latches and slowly opened the lid. Vaiana approached cautiously, her hands nervously fidgeting at her sides.

As the lid was lifted, the gruesome sight within was revealed: the severed head of Edmure Castleroy. Vaiana's stomach lurched violently, a wave of nausea overtaking her. She turned away, covering her mouth with one hand while clutching her abdomen with the other.

The knights stepped forward, their concern evident. "Princess," they called out, their voices filled with worry.

Vaiana's response was immediate and panicked. "Get it out, get it out, get it out!" she yelled, doubling over as pain wracked her body. Her cries of anguish filled the chamber, echoing off the stone walls.

As Vaiana's world blurred with pain and fear, the scene shifted.

Rhaenyra, elsewhere in the Dragonstone, was in the throes of childbirth. Her agony was palpable, her white dress stained with blood as she struggled to bring her child into the world. "Get off, get off, get off, get off!" she cried out, her voice a mixture of desperation and resolve, her body wracked with spasms of pain.

Maester Gerardys entered the room with Jacaerys and Lucerys following closely behind. The tension in the air was palpable, and Rhaenyra's groans of pain only added to the foreboding atmosphere.

"Mother?" Jace called out, his voice tinged with worry. Luke, however, looked utterly terrified, his eyes wide with fear.

Rhaenyra, despite the pain coursing through her body, spoke with a grim determination. "Your grandsire, King Viserys, has passed."

"V-Viserys?" Luke stammered, his shock evident.

Rhaenyra continued, each word like a dagger in her heart. "The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king."

Both Jace and Luke were struck dumb by the revelation. The shock in their eyes mirrored the storm brewing within their hearts.

"And your sister," Rhaenyra added, her voice cracking, "she's being held captive."

Luke furrowed his brow, glancing at Jace. The older brother's face was a mask of anger and resolve. "What is to be done about it?" Jace asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.