The Legacy of Two

Kingsroad

 Aemma had never known Laena Velaryon. All she knew about her uncle's bride, and her paternal aunt, was that Laena had once been proposed to marry her father Viserys, before he had announced his betrothal to Alicent.

But Laena had married his brother Daemon, so perhaps that had been her goal the entire time. She had only been a child when her marriage to Viserys had been suggested.

"Mother, who am I to marry?" Aemma asked as the carriage rattled on. Only her and Alicent sat in this carriage, though Viserys was in the one before them. Aemma's siblings were all flying on their...

She refused to think of their beasts, their draconic creatures, because every time she did, the horrifying memory of being burned alive came back to her. Of course, she had not been burned alive, but her dreams were so lively, it almost felt as if they were real.

And every night, Aemma would have the same dream. She was pushed down beneath the waves, falling into the dark depths as fire burned above her. And then she was above the water in the jaws of a huge white dragon, and the fire burned around her consuming everything and everyone.

And then she woke.

Aemma had had that dream for as long as she could remember. All her siblings knew, as did her parents, but she had begged them not to tell anyone else, for fear that they would spread whispers about her.

Alicent refused to talk about them when Aemma was around and Aegon and Aemond hushed their conversations when she entered the rooms. Viserys and Helaena rarely spoke of them anyway.

But Aemma had not yet claimed one of them, and people must be wondering if something was wrong with her.

"Why do you think of marriage?" Alicent asked, dragging Aemma back to reality.

"I only suppose I'll be married soon enough, and since Aunt Laena's death, Uncle Daemon will marry again." Aemma stated.

Alicent nodded, her brown curls shaking as she did. Aemma admired her mother. Alicent Hightower was a beautiful woman, certainly not a beautiful as Targaryens and those of Old Valyria, but there was something about the way she nodded and smiled that made everyone trust her. No matter how big of a mistake that was.

Aemma was clumsy, a child of nine, but she often wished for the same grace and elegance as Helaena, or the same confidence as Rhaenyra, or the same wit as Aelora, or even the same mannerisms as Alicent.

But she was stuck with being the pretty child, because that was all she was. Pretty. A prize to be won and shown around to others. Something to be looked at, and nothing more.

"I believe you will marry one of your brothers," Alicent decided.

Aemma grimaced. She knew it was a tradition of Targaryens, but that did not make it any less horrible. The thought of marrying Aegon or Aemond, or even Daeron... well, she wouldn't want to. "Must I?" she wondered, sitting upright to look outside of the window, "Why not Jace? He's still a relation, but he's not my brother."

"Jacaerys is a bastard, Aemma." Alicent said, "I will not have you marrying a bastard."

"Jace is not a bastard, Mother!" Aemma argued, "He's a trueborn son of Rhaenyra."

"Yes, of Rhaenyra, perhaps, but not of Laenor."

Aemma frowned as they rumbled to a stop, "What does that matter? They are heirs to the throne through Rhaenyra, not Laenor."

Alicent gave her a disapproving glance as the carriage door opened. She stepped out, her green dress dragging behind her. Aemma followed after, picking her black skirts up to step down.

"Her Grace, Queen Alicent of the House Hightower," one of the heralds announced to Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, "And Her Grace, Princess Aemma of the House Targaryen."

Aemma gave a short curtsy to the Lord and Lady of Driftmark, before she was dragged away by her mother to get ready for the funeral. Why must one look pretty for a funeral, she wondered.

~~~

Aelora had gotten used to life on Dragonstone, so when she and her family were called to Driftmark for Laena Velaryon's funeral, she was hesitant to go. Of course, Laena was her aunt, and Laenor was devastated by the news. He spent days weeping uncontrollably on Aelora's shoulder, begging the gods to bring Laena back.

Aelora did not trust in any gods, they were cruel and horrible. Why else would they have let Maegor Targaryen ever sit on the Iron Throne? But she tried not to dwell on the gods, and instead focused on the air flowing through her hair as Lyrrax flew over the sea to Driftmark.

Rhaenyra flew beside her daughter on Syrax, though Laenor travelled with his sons on a ship not far below them. Jace and Luke had yet to ride their dragons.

Aelora loved flying, there was some freedom in it that she could not find on a land. Though there was not much freedom for a nine year old Princess of the Targaryen dynasty in general.

Lyrrax was her escape, and she longed to spend her days escaping, but they flew down on Driftmark that evening, where Aelora was greeted by her grandparents and cousins.