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Beauty of Scars & Flowers - Chapter 5: Sacred Places.

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The throne room within the Red Keep was not as great as the one in Harrenhal.  Lyanna had come to that conclusion.  The Hall of a Hundred Hearths could be called a ruin, but when all hearths were lit, their warmth would make up for the drafts that wisped through the hall.  But the great hall was underwhelming, small, and the air stiff.  The pungent smell from Blackwater Bay made its way into the room just as it did in every other place in the Red Keep. Lyanna still had not grown used to the smell, yearning for the scent of ash, earth, and freshwater that Harrenhal had throughout. 

Yet all the lords, ladies, and young knights in the great hall did not seem to hold the same thoughts as she.  They all kept their attention on Otto Hightower as he sat on the Iron Throne with smiles on their faces, happy to be welcomed in the hall.  But Lyanna wasn’t happy. She didn’t like King’s Landing.  She missed her home, the smell of nature, and the people of Harrenhal she called her family.  

Lyanna let out a small huff; she couldn’t help but wonder if she could sneak out of the hall and try to find Helaena to spend the day with.   But her uncle wouldn’t be pleased with her doing that. He is the reason why she isn’t spending the day with her friend.  He had insisted that Lyanna stay in court all day to try and catch the eye of a lord or knight so that she could return to Harrenhal and no longer be his responsibility. 

Aemond didn’t know why he couldn't keep his gaze on his grandsire.  Usually, when audiences were being held, he would take a break from whatever he was doing and stand by the throne to listen and watch his grandsire act on his father's behalf.  Yet his gaze drifted away from his grandsire and Riverland lord, who was complaining.  It kept drifting towards the soon-to-be lady of Harrenhal.   

He noticed how she rocked herself on her feet, how her gaze darted to each face in the hall and towards the pillars in the room.   How her eyebrows were pulled together, meaning she was in thought about something.  

She would have the same expression while she read, Aemond noted.  

Aemond didn’t fail to notice that today, she was wearing a blue dress, the same strong blue he could remember from his childhood.  A colour he thought he disliked, but he did not mind it on her.  

Aemond did not mind that she was adapting the styles of the other ladies of the court.  Wearing her hair in the same southern style as the other ladies, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would soon wear the same green dresses that ladies often wore to show their loyalty to the throne. Lyanna had made it a point to wear browns, yellows, reds, and now blue.  But never green, even if it was one of her house colours. 

Aemond rolled his shoulders and puffed out his chest as he looked back toward his grandsire. It was inappropriate for him to be looking at her for so long.  He reminds himself that.  He reminded himself that he was a prince of the realm and should not be staring at a lady for so long.  Yet, as Aemond looks up to his grandsire, he can’t help the feeling that he should take one more peek at Lyanna. 

With one eye scanning around the hall, Aemond noticed that no one was looking at him; instead, they were watching the argument or talking between themselves in hushed whispers.  No one would see if he slipped away from his spot and made his way down the sides of the hall to stand elsewhere. 

Lyanna moved her weight from one foot to the other as she watched the people around her.  Her eyes scanned each face in the room as she tried to remember everyone's name and title, a fun game she would play with other ladies at Riverrun or the Twins.  She only knew a handful of people in the room, and the suffocating feeling of loneliness and falsehood crept up from her stomach and into her chest.  

Across the hall stood Ser Alan.  Dressed in his house colours, his short curls were not as neatly put together as the prince that loomed over Lyanna.  Yet Lyanna's heart yearned as she watched Ser Alan whisper in the ear of the lady he stood behind.  Not even hours ago, she was in the same position as that lady, giggling and blushing as the young knight spoke quiet words that only she could hear.  

Lyanna is no fool; she knows that she and Ser Alan were not betrothed, but a small part of her had hoped that she was the only lady that he was interested in.   Yet if only Lyanna turned her head towards the man standing beside her, then she would see how he studied her movements and face like it was a piece of artwork he saw for the first time. 

The young prince couldn’t help but take note of the defeated look on her face as she watched the pair across the room.  She quietly huffed through her nose before strengthening her back and releasing her clenched shoulders and jaw like she was resetting herself.  

Aemond lets out a low hum as he turns to watch his grandsire.  Lyanna snapped her head toward him, nose scrunched up as if she had just smelled something rotten.  A cute expression, Aemond determined.  Yet his face still held the cold expression he had mastered long ago. 

Lyanna couldn’t help but feel like the prince was trying to gain her attention.  Yet, as she watched him and noticed his eye was not focused on her, she wondered if she was going mad and just imagining the sounds he usually made.  

Lyanna straightened her back and licked her lips before she chose to break the silence. “Is something the matter, my prince?” 

Aemond moved his gaze back toward Lyanna, and part of him was happy to see that she was already looking at him.  Aemond hummed before speaking, “Nothing at all, My Lady Strong.” 

Lyanna nodded before turning her head back toward Otto Hightower.  If anyone were to look at them, they would only see the prince standing a little too close to a Lady he is often seen spending time with.  

Aemond looked away from Lyanna and back to the Riverland lord, who was throwing a tantrum.  As he tried to focus on what was the matter, he could only take note of the faint smell of flowers and a hint of spice.  The scent was as faint as the forget-me-nots that Lyanna had pressed for him and Helaena.  

“You’re from the Riverlands,” Aemond said the words as if they were more of a statement than a question.  

Both of their gaze stayed away from the other, doing their best to appear to be paying attention rather than engaging in conversation.  But as Aemond broke the silence between them, Lyanna leaned slightly more toward the prince.  The distance between them was becoming smaller and smaller.  

“I am,” Lyanna whispered back to Aemond; her response was enough for the prince to lean closer to her. Close enough for Aemond's shoulders to gently graze the back of hers.  

“Why is Lord Bracken often here, nanging about something the young lord Blackwood has done?” Aemond asked her in the same low whisper.  

“It’s hard to say why; this feud goes back to when they were kings and queens, before your family conquest, before the Andals.  Blackwoods and Brackens will hate each other until the end of time. And each house has a version of why it started,” Lyanna answered the best she could in a few words. She could go on about the feud between the two houses for hours, and there would probably still be something she left out.  

Like most of the Riverland nobility, she favoured the Blackwoods as opposed to the Brackens.  

“It’s foolish,” Aemond commented, keeping his gaze forward.   He supposed he did not understand just how far back the feud goes.  He had read every history book he could get his hands on, yet the history of the first men and the history before the Andals were not interesting or even considered studying.  

“I suppose, but it’s part of who they are.  Rooted in the very foundation of their houses,” Lyanna continued, now allowing Aemond's coldness to stop her from talking.  “They are raised to hate each other.  Hatred like that can’t just end because a king demands it,” 

Aemond looks at Lyanna, taking in her words as she watches the Bracken complain.  She was right; if someone is raised to hate another being, it won’t just end because someone demands it to.  Aemond looks away from Lyanna, realising he has been looking at her far too long.  Even just leaving his regular place and choosing to stand by her was already a risky move.  He could play it off that he is keeping his sister's friend company.

“I heard that Lady Alysanne Blackwood has grown tired of the feud and is now spending her time in the Twins with the new Lady Frey,” Aemond breaks the silence, causing Lyanna to snap her head towards him.  Mouth slightly agape as he spoke, as if she did not expect him to know that.

Aemond does not know why he said that. There was a good chance that Lyanna knew Alysanne Blackwood and that she would not humour such rumours.  But that is one of the few things he knew about House Blackwood or House Bracken, hearing the rumour from both his sister and younger brother. He just wanted to give a contribution to their dying conversation, to keep Lyanna talking to him rather than going to watch the people around them.  

“My prince, I do not think this is an appropriate thing for us to talk about,” Lyanna whispered back to him, shock still on her face as she tried to take in what Aemond had said. 

“I did not take you as someone who did not gossip,” He comments; he knew that Lyanna does gossip.  He overheard her tell Helaena many of the old and new rumours she had encountered.  

“I did not take you as someone who does,” Lyanna shot back.  

She and the other ladies she had talked with thought that the one-eyed prince was a man a few words.  They would say that he would rather just stare and use his eye to talk than his words.  Many of the ladies she has met in her short time would often go on about how to catch the prince's gaze.  How handsome he looked without the eye patch he often wore.  Even rumours that, unlike his elder brother, he did not need to visit the streets of Silk to find a woman to warm his bed. 

But none of the gossip included how he, too, took part in talking about the people around him. 

“People talk.  I listen.” 

“Do you wish for me to talk?” Lyanna asked after a moment of silence.   She turned her head to the side, not looking at Aemond, but the movement allowed him to see her face and the look of concentration on it.

It would be no different than her and Helaena talking over tea or wine.  The only difference would be that Aemond was a prince and not a princess. For all she knew, Aemond enjoyed gossiping with everyone.  But the truth was that the prince only talked to people outside of his family and close circle at feasts or because his mother would make him. That Lyanna was the first person, outside of his sister, that he has talked about the rumours of court with. 

“I do not hate when you do,” Aemond answered her after taking his own pregnant pause of silence.  

Lyanna nodded as she looked around the hall, trying to choose what rumour she would share.  She didn’t want to appear rude but also wanted to disappoint the prince by not sharing something.  Her gaze eventually landed on a trio: two young knights and a lady.  The lady, Talla, had an extravagant shawl thrown over one shoulder that hid her midriff and chest, a fashion statement that she claimed would soon catch on, but most knew the truth as to why she suddenly chose the new article of clothing.

“Do you know why Lady Talla has chosen to wear that ridiculous shawl?” Lyanna asked Aemond as she nervously smoothed down the skirt of her blue dress. She was worried that someone might overhear her and the prince. 

Aemond looked around the hall, settling on the Stormland Lady and the two young sirs who stood close to her.  The prince let out a low hum, telling Lyanna to continue. 

“She is trying to hide a swelling belly; thinks that the shawl will take attention away from it, but I just think that it makes it obvious she is trying to hide something,” Lyanna continued in a quiet voice as her gaze flickered between Aemond and the group she was talking about. 

Aemond nodded along with the words before he leaned closer to Lyanna, close enough for her to feel the warmth of him and his smell.  Closer than they had ever been before.  Close enough for a few whispers to start around the hall, but neither of them cared. 

“I often see her and Ser Rycherd walking together,” Aemond added, hoping to keep the conversation going.  

“And Ser Henly,” Lyanna quickly added; the two of them looked towards the two men behind Lady Talla, and Lyanna didn’t miss the look the two men gave one another. “Sometimes all three of them walk together, I hear,”

Aemond hummed at the revelation, thinking it over and wondering where Lyanna had heard such things.  He doubted that she heard it from Helaena, and as far as he knew, Helaena was Lyanna’s only friend at court beside him. 

“I was hoping that a duel might happen in the training yard,” Aemond said as he turned to look at Lyanna.  She had a smile on her face and her cheeks slightly red.   “Would have been good fun to watch,”

Lyanna couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped as Aemond finished talking.  She quickly bowed her head down to hide her face as her hand covered her mouth and the noises that were trying to escape.  

The actions were enough for Aemond to smile slightly, but the feeling of onlookers caused Aemond to look away from the giggling lady and around the hall towards a few older couples whispering and looking at them.  

That was enough for Aemond to straighten his spin and take a small step away from Lyanna.  Putting distance between the two of them.  His action pleased the onlookers because they turned back to look at his grandsire.  Once Aemond was sure no one else was looking at him and Lyanna, he returned to his previous spot.  

Aemond watched as Lyanna did her best to compose herself, but it seemed that she could not contain her laughter as her shoulders shook.  Aemond rolled his shoulders as Lyanna finally calmed down. 

Aemond knew that after the audience was finished being held, Lyanna would either find her way to Helaena or might even be convinced to join Ser Alan for a walk around the gardens.  It was a 50/50 chance that he wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of the day with her, a chance he didn’t want to take.  

“My Lady Strong, have you visited the Dragonpit yet?” Aemond whispered.  

“Princess Helaena has asked me to accompany her,” Lyanna answered without thinking.  She had no desire to visit the dragonpit besides the fact that Helaena wished to show her the dragon she had bonded with.    “Why, my prince?”

“You could accompany me today,” Aemond offered her, a sure way that would make sure the two of them spent the rest of the day with one another and allow Lyanna to see the true strength of the house of the dragon. 

The question caused Lyanna to turn her head towards Aemond, her hair flying over her shoulder and her eyebrows pulled together.  Aemond kept himself composted as Lyanna looked at him with a shocked expression.  

“You want me to accompany you to the dragonpit?” She asked, her voice loud enough for the people surrendering them to look and judge.  

Aemond looked away from Lyanna and toward the people now staring at them, two youngsters with stern expressions.  

Aemond nodded his head now in apology before he placed his hand on Lyanna’s lower back, gently guiding her away from the crowd and toward the giant pillars in the room.  If Aemond had only looked toward the throne, he would have seen his grandsire watching him and Lyanna with a puzzled expression. 

Once they were in the darkness and quiet behind the pillars, Lyanna turned to face Aemond.  Leaning against one of the pillars with her hands behind her, the action was so quick it left Aemond’s hand that was on her back in the air.  

“I don’t think my uncle would allow that,” Lyanna told Aemond, a worried look on her face.  

In truth, Larys would be more than happy to allow Aemond to take Lyanna to the dragonpit.  But she was scared.  Scared because she had grown up at Harrenhal, a clear reminder of what the beasts were capable of doing.  

Aemond hummed as he walked to stand in front of Lyanna, looking down at her as he hummed in response.  He wasn’t going to force Lyanna to the dragonpit, but he still wanted to share that part of his life with her.  

The two of them had spent hours in the Godswood reading with one another, and Aemond knows that to Lyanna, the Godswood is the most sacred place for her.  He might not follow the gods of Valyria, but he knew that it might impress her for him to also share something sacred with her.

“There is another way of seeing a dragon without the danger,” Aemond told her, slowly thinking of his plan.  “If you would accompany me,”

Lyanna nodded, and Aemond offered his arm for her to take.   Aemond knew that the two of them should stay in the great hall and wait for the Bracken lord to finish his rant, but he feared that the lord could go on into the hours of the night.  

Once Lyanna took his arm, Aemond guided them toward the doors.  He was glad they had been kept open, but he still knew that remours could spark why the two of them were leaving.  

But the most judgmental gaze came from the man who sat on the Iron Throne.  Otto tuned out the lord speaking and focused on his grandson and the lady on his arm.  

– –

Aemond kept glancing at Lyanna as they descended the stairs; he noticed how she held up the front of her skirt rather than holding onto the rail beside her.  Perhaps she felt that Aemond would prevent her from falling more than the railing, or maybe she did not wish to bruise the prince's ego by taking her hand off his arm. Whatever her reason, Aemond did not mind, for it kept her hand gripping his arm.  

As the two of them got closer and closer to their destination, the air grew cold and still.  The freshness of cold water was a welcome smell to Lyanna, and the pungent smell of Blackwater Bay was left in sunlit corridors. 

The worry that someone might have seen the two of them sneak away was slowly being replaced by anticipation of where Aemond was taking her. 

Once the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, Lyanna gasped and removed her hand from Aemond's arm.  Moving towards the giant Dragon skull that hung from the ceilings with a bed of candles under it.   

Lyanna couldn’t believe what she was seeing; the warmth of the candles in front of her reminded her that she was not dreaming.  She had heard stories about Belarion but always thought they were over-exaggeration. However, she might think they were under-exaggeration.  

The skull was a smooth black, and its teeth were longer than her arm.  The dragon could undoubtedly eat her in one bite if he were still alive.   

He didn’t know why he brought her here.  He rarely came down to the skull, but maybe he just wanted to show Lyanna a part of his own culture.  He also doubted Lyanna would want to spend time in the Sept. 

Aemond walked past the threshold of the stairs and toward Lyanna, who stood in front of the skull.  He chose to stand beside her, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword as he looked between Lyanna and Belarion. 

Aemond didn’t believe the sight before him, the way that the flames from the candles danced across her face and reflected in her eyes.  The candle flames made her eyes look like flames, and the smile on her face warmed him. 

“It’s hard to think that one creature could do such damage,” Lyanna spoke up, her eyes dancing all over the skull, trying to commit every detail to memory just as Aemond was doing with her face.  

Aemond let out a hum as he turned to look at Belarion. Vhagar was getting close to his size, and Aemond hoped his dragon could last longer than her male counterpart.

“Are they just as scary in person?” Lyanna broke the silence as she quickly took a glance at him before looking back at Belarion. 

“I wouldn’t say they are scary,” Aemond told her.  

Sure, when he was younger, the dragons did scare him, but once he was bonded with Vhagar, that fear turned into appreciation, and now he could see the beauty of one of the most destructive creatures to grace the realm.  

“Just as big?” Her tone told Aemond that she was jesting with him, but he still held his stoic expression.  

“No,” Aemond answered as he looked back at Lyanna.  “Vhagar is the closest,”

The mention of his dragon sent pride flowing down his throat and into his chest—a show of his greatest accomplishment and greatest sacrifice. 

“Your dragon?” Lyanna asked, even though she already knew the answer.  

The smile that graced her face was enough for one to creep onto Aemonds.  He nodded yes as he turned to look at the skull, hoping that turning away from her would be enough to hide the smile. 

“My dragon,” Aemond confirmed, and Lyanna hummed as a comfortable silence fell upon them.  

Lyanna and Aemond stood in silence, with Lyanna turning back to look at the skull.  To imagine what the beast must have looked like when he was in his prime.  When the dragon flew above the gods eye and used its black flames to melt the great castle, she had lived her whole life.  

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