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merlot-and-chardonnay · 3 months ago

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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 66

Masterlist

Chapter 65

Brief content warning for allusions to casual frat bro brand homophobia (you'll know it when you read it).

------------King's Landing: the Red Keep---------

You sang a soft elven lullaby, effectively putting the children into a trance until they fell asleep just in time for their afternoon nap, even if they did not understand the words.

While this arrangement was a far cry from your last one- that one heavily involving you being tormented and assaulted against your will at the hands of the Rogue Prince- it didn't exactly change the fact that once again, you had become something of a prisoner in the Red Keep. While Aegon and Otto haven't explicitly stated that you were a prisoner, there was the unspoken fact that Aemma was on their opposing side, and if you didn't tow the line, you could very well end up being treated as a hostage, one to use over Aemma's head if to force her to renounce her loyalties to Rhaenyra.

You honestly couldn't give a care who would ultimately sit the Iron Throne if a civil war were to break out. After everything you've been through, after the literal hell you've been subjected to at the hands of Daemon and his family, none of that meant anything to you anymore...but you had a feeling that it probably meant something to your daughter, as she was still part of this family.

Only time would tell.

You walk out of the nursery as the nursemaids came in to carry the children to their beds and tuck them for their nap. No doubt that once they wake, little Jaehaerys would be expecting the Lady Lark to sing to him.

Look, he's a cute kid and all, but he was starting to get a little too demanding with his singing requests and it's barely been three days since you were brought into service again. The cute factor was starting to wear thin, and it hasn't exactly been helped that his father had stopped by every now and again during the days and actively encourage you to play for his son, even if you had exceeded the number of songs you could go through in a day. Even a young Rhaenyra wasn't this demanding as this little boy, whom was presumed to be the heir to the Iron Throne.

You lean against the door, feeling you were at your wits end, and starting to hope Aemma was doing better at Dragonstone or wherever she was at this moment. You may have heard from word of mouth that a dragon that matches Cirillia's description was seen flying towards the North, making you assume Aemma may have gone in that direction. No one has deigned to tell what it could mean, but part of you remembered exactly what and who resided in the North. If Aemond was sent to Storm's End to broker a marriage between himself and one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, it was safe to assume Aemma was sent with similar intentions, by Rhaenyra, to broker a marriage with the current Warden of the North (you do have some vague memories of meeting the late Lord Stark when he was summoned to King's Landing to acknowledge Rhaenyra as Viserys' heir).

If that was indeed the case, you could only hope this Lord Stark wasn't as chauvinistic or emotionally constipated as you've made Aemond out to be.

Right on cue, you see a familiar figure approach you, a nervous and absentminded look on his face. "Ivan," you greet the half-elf, taking him by surprise. "Oh ah, Lady Lark, uh I mean (y/n), I mean-" "You can call me by my familiar name if you want," you assure the knight. "Alright then," Ivan nods, "when exactly did you get here?" "About three days ago," you tell him, "His Grace has appointed me personal troubaritz to his children...and he has appointed my brother as the new court jester." "Oh Seven Hells," Ivan mutters.

"Are you okay, Ivan, you were a little jumpy back before," you point out. "I am as well as I can be, my lady," Ivan assures, "I just...a lot has happened recently and...it just feels so overwhelming." "I can understand that," you say with empathy, "so, I take it you are now sworn to protect the king and his family." "That is what the oath I swore to the Kingsguard dictates," Ivan confirms, "the king...or perhaps the queen..."

You look back and forth, knowing the walls might have ears, "you may want to take care what you say," you warn, "don't want anyone accusing you of treason." "I am well aware," Ivan huffs in frustration. "Ivan, what's wrong?" "Nothing is wrong!" Ivan exclaims, "I...I just, *sigh* forgive me, my lady. I need to tend to my duties."

You were taken aback as Ivan hastily departed from your presence. You wondered whatever was going on, the half-elf would be able to sort it out before it consumes him. Part of you wondered if it had to do with Ivan's clandestine trip the brothel the day you and Jaskier arrived at King's Landing, wondering if someone had caught Ivan and had possibly made threats to expose him...or if perhaps him keeping his elven blood secret for as long as he was starting to to get to him. It wasn't exactly a healthy thing having to suppress a natural part of one's identity for the sake of self-preservation. If one did it for too long, it would start to eat them from the inside out.

"What's going on with Ivan?" you hear Jaskier question as he approached. You look to see your brother was dressed up in the court jester ensemble, having to look the part as well as playing it. "I wish I knew," you say, "how about you? How are things going as the king's royal fool?"

"*sigh* I...I don't want to talk about it," Jaskier huffs. "That bad huh?" "Worse," Jaskier exasperates, "I don't just have to perform for His Royal Highness, I have to also perform for his...lickspittle fraternity knights. The way these BOYS behave, it's giving me traumatic flashbacks to when I came across similar sorts back at the Oxenfurt Academy. If I have to put up with another casual sword/sausage swallowing joke at my expense, I am going to lose it." "You haven't exactly kept it a secret that you do on occasion swallow swords," you point out. "That is different," Jaskier points out, "that was self-deprecating humor that IN NO WAY punched down on others more put upon than myself. Ugh, I swear, these people, I just...ugh!"

You sigh, understanding your brother's frustration, "hang in there, Julian," you try to assure, "We'll get out of this one way or another. I figure it doesn't take too much to entertain the king and his sycophants." "Oh no, not at all," Jaskier assures, "again, fraternity knight mentality, low brow humor that panders to the lowest common denominator is all it takes to bring the house down with this sort. Especially after they've consumed a copious amount of wine and mead to the point where they are belching their lungs out and passing out...I just really wish they wouldn't blow them at my face."

"Oh Julian, I am so sorry," you lean into Jaskier, giving him a comforting hug, "my big brother is really struggling right now, it seems." "You say that, but you don't really mean it," Jaskier deadpans, "what about you? How are you enjoying you new position as nanny?" "I'd enjoy it more if the heir to the Iron Throne wasn't demanding the same damn song a hundred times in a row," you deadpan back, "Even Laenor and Laena Velaryon weren't this demanding with the sea shanties."

"I don't suppose there is any chance Aemma will be able to get us out of this mess," Jaskier brings up, "or hey, why not try and figure out a way to send a message to Geralt to help us out...again." "*sigh* I don't think it will happen this time" you lament, "we're on our own for now, brother."

"*sigh* I was afraid of that," Jaskier sulks. "I'm just glad I'm not alone this time around," you say.

At that moment, you hear Aegon laughing with whom you assumed to be the fraternity bro knights as he walked down the corridor your way, making Jaskier stand straight. "If he asks, I'm not here!" your brother hastily flees in the other direction.

You were about to call out to Jaskier, not wanting to deal with those lickspittles on your own, but to your somewhat relief, it was only Aegon. "Your Grace," you greet with a light curtsy. "Lady Lark," Aegon greets back, "I take it my children are taking their naps." "Yes, Your Grace," you confirm.

"Hmm," Aegon tilted his head lightly, "usually it takes a little longer for them to fall asleep at this time of day. Jaehaera especially. But it seems your siren's calls have a certain effect over her and her brothers." You steel yourself, not sure what Aegon was thinking of as he looked you up and down. You hadn't seen Aegon since he was still a baby. But a lot has changed in 16 years...and you still weren't sure what and who Aegon has grown up to be, all you knew was that the Hightowers made him king, that he married his younger sister and had children with her...and he had a strong penchant for excess cups of wine every now and then.

"Will you walk with me, Lady Lark?" Aegon requests. Him being king, you didn't exactly have much choice but to accept his request and follow, wondering what Aegon would have to ask of you.

-----------------Storm's End---------------

"I hope accommodations have been to your liking, my prince," Floris Baratheon says as she takes a seat next to Aemond, and though Aemond could not see the woman as she was sitting in his blind spot, the prince could sense she was doing her best to be as sultry as possible.

Aemond couldn't blame Floris, or any of her sisters for that matter, as they vied for his hand. To wed a prince would be considered the highest honor. On the far end of the dinning table sat Lord Borros Baratheon himself, looking towards the prince as he expectedly waited for Aemond to make his decision on which one of Borros' daughters he would wed.

Internally, Aemond wished it wouldn't have come to this. He had no desire to marry any of the Baratheon daughters, but it was expected of him. Otto had made it clear, they needed Borros' support, and seeing how ambitious and power hungry the Lord of Storm's End was rumored to be, securing an alliance in the form of a marriage pact was the best way to go about it.

"Any of the four will do," Aemond's grandsire told him, "woo her and wed her, and Lord Borros will deliver the Stormlands for your brother..." Aemond had refused at first, making it clear he had no desire to wed any woman except for his cousin Aemma. "Princess Aemma is a traitor to the realm," Otto had pointed out, "she made that clear the day she fled King's Landing with the Princess Rhaenys. I showed leniency when I offered terms to your half-sister to broker a betrothal between you and her eldest stepdaughter. But so far, the princess Rhaenyra has given no answer...and now there have been whispers the traitor princess has sent ravens to the other Great Houses, to Riverrun, the Eyrie, Winterfell, and Storm's End. We can only assume Rhaenyra and her followers have made their choice and acted accordingly...now we must do the same." "Grandsire-" "You will fly to Storm's End," Otto spoke with finality and authority, "you will treat with Lord Borros and offer to broker a marriage pact between any of his daughters. End of conversation."

And when Aemond refused to budge from his stance and remain in his chambers in King's Landing, Alicent was the one who coaxed Aemond to make the flight to Storm's End, when she brought up that two dragons had been spotted flying towards the North...one of those dragons was confirmed to be Cirillia.

Upon hearing those words, Aemond had to assume Rhaenyra had Aemma fly North with either Jace or Luke, most likely to broker a marriage pact with the Lord of Winterfell. Aemond didn't even want to consider the remote possibility that Aemma would actually offer herself to Cregan Stark as a potential suitor...he refused to believe Aemma would willingly lay with any of those unrefined, Northern brutes, even if it would accomplish securing an alliance for whom she believed to be the true monarch of Westeros.

No, Aemond thought to himself...Aemma would never be willing. It was all Rhaenyra's- and probably Daemon's- doing. Aemond remembered what Otto told him when he returned to King's Landing, what Daemon said in response to the offer to broker a marriage between Aemond and Aemma (though Otto used less crude words then what Daemon had responded with).

In some ways, it almost felt like history was repeating itself; Aemond professes his love for Aemma, to which Aemma agrees to wed him when the time was right...only for Daemon to interfere in some way and form plans to send Aemma off to wed someone else.

The North is so far away...did Aemma inform either Daemon or Rhaenyra of hers and Aemond's dalliance the night before the coup? Was she sent to the North to wed Lord Stark as some kind of twisted way to get her as far away from Aemond as possible? It had to be, there was no other explanation.

Aemma wasn't like one of those women of the night from the Street of Silk. She is a princess and was a maiden when he laid with her the first time, she wouldn't give herself to any man except the one she loved (again, keeping in mind Aemond doesn't know about Aemma's Continental trysts during their six years apart). Sure, they weren't married when they laid together that night, but Aemma made it clear that she reciprocated Aemond's love and affection and had expressed a desire to wed him the morning after. It had been meant to be.

If only Aemma hadn't been led astray by Rhaenyra's poisonous influence that came between her and Aemond.

So here Aemond was now, at Storm's End, treating with Lord Borros Baratheon, who was more than happy to welcome Aemond into his home with feasts and tourneys and hunting parties, all with the expressed hope that Aemond would choose one of his daughters to wed and become part of the Royal Family.

With the knowledge of where Aemma likely was at this moment, Storm's End was the last place Aemond wanted to be. Internally, he desperately wanted to take Vhagar up North to catch up with Aemma and Cirillia, hopefully before they reached Winterfell, and drag Aemma back to King's Landing with hopes that maybe this time he could get Aemma to see reason. He didn't care if Aemma would be too stubborn to accept that Aegon is the true ruler, he would do whatever it took to keep Aemma at his side, even if he needed to confine her to her rooms and chain her to the bedpost until she accepted the truth of it all. She may not forgive him for that...but perhaps any anger she would hold would eventually be swayed when they married and Aemond would make good on his promise to take her to Toussaint afterwards. He would even suggest her mother and uncle and even the witcher come visit while they were there to sweeten the deal.

In the present, Aemond held a look of indifference as the Baratheon ladies continued to vie for his hand even after that the meal was concluded. He would need to choose a girl eventually. Aemond has already been here longer than was necessary, and he couldn't stall for much longer.

The prince was sorely tempted to just stop this charade altogether, put an end to this endless peacocking, tell Lord Borros to fuck off, and take Vhagar and fly North to reach Aemma and fight off whichever of her stepbrothers had accompanied her so as to break Rhaenyra's hold over her by professing his undying love for her.

Instead, Aemond looked to the women. When the prince was first welcomed to Storm's End, Borros had been quick to introduce Aemond to the man's daughters. Cassandra is the eldest, though Borros insisted Floris was the prettiest of his daughters. There was also Maris, whom Borros recommended if Aemond wished for a clever wife. Aemond had internally scoffed at that; he could have found a pretty AND clever wife in Aemma. But Aemma was not here.

So, making eye contact with the Lord of Storm's End, Aemond informed the man he had decided he would choose to broker a marriage with his daughter Floris. Borros didn't seem all that surprised when Aemond made this announcement, probably figuring Floris' attractiveness and feminine wiles had already given her a leg up over the rest of her sisters.

At this point, storm clouds were gathering outside. Part of Aemond hoped Vhagar was fairing well outside, no doubt the old girl would be happy to return to King's Landing after this. The feeling was mutual for Aemond, but he was still held up by Borros, who was now trying to get Aemond to set a date for the wedding while also negotiating the dowry. Again, Aemond was sorely tempted to roll his eye, end this charade, and tell Borros to fuck off. But he held his tongue and allowed the man to continue with the negotiations.

To Aemond's relief, one of the knights approached Borros, letting him know a messenger had just arrived...from Dragonstone. The messenger was let in, and Aemond saw exactly who it was...Lucerys Velaryon, also known as the Strong boy who took Aemond's eye back on Driftmark the night he claimed Vhagar.

Aemond kept a cool gaze, though he was internally seething. Yes, he was still furious at Luke for taking his eye and getting away with it...but he was also angry at Luke- or more specifically at that bastard's mother- for taking Aemma away from him, for leading her astray, for making her turn traitor and making her turn down a marriage prospect with him in favor of sending her North to woo and wed Lord Stark instead.

Since Aemond couldn't direct that particular rage and hatred at his half sister...he would instead target that same hatred at his eye-taking bastard nephew.

-------Winterfell-----------

It was the Hour of the Wolf.

Aemma was sound asleep beneath the furs in her guest chambers when she felt herself drift into the dream realm. When she opened her eyes, the princess found herself in a place between space and time.

Realizing what was going on, Aemma was quick to look around, expecting Ciri would be present to speak to her as they have done once before. She had some hopes that perhaps Ciri would inform her of the vision she saw that concerned Aemond and what he was fixing to do in the near future.

"Ciri?" Aemma calls out. No answer. Aemma searched in all directions, hoping the person she was looking for was present.

"Ciri?!"

"Caedmill, Silverlark," a familiar male voice finally catches Aemma's attention. Aemma jumped lightly, turning to face the elven sage. "You," Aemma's expression turns sour when she made eye contact with Avallac'h, "where is Ciri?" "You need not worry for Zireael," Avallac'h assures, keeping a stoic appearance, "for a change of pace, I have taken it upon myself to open the connection between us while she keeps watch for the Red Riders."

"How nice of you," Aemma deadpans, sensing this might be Avallac'h's way of keeping Ciri from speaking to Aemma concerning that vision she had about Aemond.

Avallac'h in response maintained his stoic appearance, one that Aemma could not decipher. "I know we share a mutual acquiescence in Ciri," the elf speaks, "but I do not believe we have properly been introduced." "Is that really necessary?" Aemma huffs. "It is," Avallac'h insists, "my name is Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha, but for the sake of simplicity, I go by the alias-" "Avallac'h," Aemma finishes, "a sage of the Aen Elle. I know."

"More than a sage," Avallac'h corrects, "I am what the Aen Elle refer to as Aen Saevherne, a Knowing One." "Well then," Aemma says, "what things does a Knowing One know of, if I may ask?" "Many things," Avallac'h simply states, "none of which concerns you at the moment, save for what is relevant to our present objective." "Does that include the vision Ciri saw of the man of love?" Aemma challenges, "do you consider that irrelevant to me? Or is it irrelevant to our current objective?"

"Have you reached the Wall yet?" Avallac'h asks as if he didn't even hear what Aemma just asked.

"No," Aemma shakes her head, clearly frustrated that the elf just blatantly ignored her, "I am at Winterfell right now. I was sent to treat with the Warden of the North to broker a betrothal with him."

"I see..." Avallac'h mutters, before addressing Aemma directly, "time functions differently in this space then it does in your world or in mine. There is no way of telling when Cirilla and I will reach the same location. You must not delay, Silverlark. I would urgently insist you continue your journey up North without further delay."

"Urgently insist," Aemma repeats, still thinking back to her last vision, how quick Avallac'h was to end the connection and the way he practically banished Ciri from that dream before she could say anything more. "...did you say similar things to Ciri in Tir na Lia?" Aemma brings up, "prior to forcing her to share a bed with your king?"

"You don't trust me," Avallac'h states, to which Aemma scoffed at the look of offense the elf held on his countenance. "You have given me no reason to," Aemma points out, anger in her eyes, "I've seen what you did to Ciri in my visions. How you held her prisoner, refusing to let her go UNTIL she bore a child with the late king Auberon." "I did NOT hold her prisoner," Avallac'h insists, doing his best to conceal his frustration with Aemma, "I would advise to not let your emotions get in the way of seeing reason. What happened with Zireael and my king was nothing like what your mother was subjected to at the hands of your father."

"What I saw in my vision said otherwise," Aemma scoffs, "Ciri was put in a position where she couldn't refuse, same as my mother." "We made a deal," Avalllac'h explained, "Ciri was meant to pay the debt that was owed to the Aen Elle, courtesy of her descendant, Cregennan of Lod. Only once that debt was paid, would Ciri have been allowed to leave."

Aemma saw a flashback to this Cregennan and Lara Dorren, the way the two met and fell in love, the tragedy that befell them, and the child Lara bore before her untimely passing.

"I take it you saw a vision of Cregennan and Lara Dorren just now," Avallac'h states, bringing Aemma's attention back to him. "You saw?" "Only bits and pieces," the elf admits, "though I did not have to look with your gift, for I was there when it happened. As you can see, it was not pleasant for both parties involved. The Aen Elle lost...a rare jewel that day, along with the Elder Blood...which to my surprise was somehow passed to you by way of Zireael that day in Kaer Morhen."

"You sound surprised," Aemma states. "More or less," Avallac'h reluctantly admits, taking a good look at the princess, "As Aen Saevherne, I have the ability to look into the past AND the future, see many possible different outcomes...but I could never have foreseen what would become of Larra Dorren's gift how it was...mutated, made more perverse than it already was when it was passed to the d'hoine."

"Fuck you too," Aemma sneers, "I never asked to possess your fucking Elder Blood, and as far as I'm concerned, it's been more trouble than it's worth."

"I would advise you say your next words carefully, Silverlark," Avallac'h warns, expression tottering on the side of dangerous. "Pfft, or what?" Aemma scoffs, growing impatient with the elf's arrogance, "you think you know so much, but you clearly don't know everything if YOU couldn't predict that Ciri was capable of passing her gift onto someone else. You can't even predict WHEN you and Ciri are to reach the Wall. Sounds to me that The Knowing One doesn't know so much after all. Must be bitter medicine to swallow if you can't hold such a high honor over those you deem inferior."

Avallac'h charged at Aemma, fast as lightening, catching her off guard as he harshly grabbed her face, pulling her close enough for her to see anger and rage simmering in his grey eyes, "your human emotions are trying my patience," he speaks in a dangerous, low tone, "you speak of things you know nothing of. You know not of what was lost to the Aen Elle, to ME, the day Lara Dorren left this world. You know not of things that are to come, save for what you and Ciri have seen together...you know nothing of how this world will someday be destroyed by the coming of the White Frost."

Aemma struggled to pull herself out of the elf's grasp. "When I caught wind of the mysterious Targaryen princess, what she held inside her essence, I was enraged, I saw it as an affront to Lara's memory," Avallac'h continues, "I had formed plans to find this princess of inbred ancestry...and end her life before her gift would finally come to fruition."

Aemma stopped, a look of terror shown on her face as the elf kept his gaze, a brief flash of the past coming to her to reveal when Ciri challenged Avallac'h the morning after her first night with Auberon, claiming that the deal was done since she laid with the Alder king even though he had done nothing, only for Avallac'h to threaten her and accuse her of defiling Lara Dorren's name by acting the way she was- less like her elven matriarch and more like her human patriarch.

"The only reason I did not follow through was because of Ciri," the elf spoke, a little more calmly this time, "She was the one who made the case that with the proper training, you could hone the mutated Elder gene within you. She made the case that together, you and her could work together to stop the White Frost before it destroys this world and all the others."

Finally, Avallac'h loosened his grip, allowing Aemma to shove him away. "So...the only reason you spared me at all was because I could potentially be useful to you," Aemma realizes, "if this is your way of trying to get me to trust you, you're doing a bad job at that."

"Believe whatever you wish," Avallac'h says, acting as if he didn't just threaten her not more then mere moments ago, "it will not change the fact that if we do not reach the Wall before Eredin does, it could well have potential dire consequences." "...are you referring to the Dance that is to come?" "I am referring to more than that," Avallac'h shakes his head, "I am looking at the bigger picture, beyond the coming Dance of Dragons. Are you willing to do the same, Silverlark? To look beyond your family's squabbles and aid Ciri and myself to save this world and mine as well as the many other worlds that have not yet fallen victim to the bitter cold of the White Frost?"

"I don't even know what the White Frost is," Aemma huffs, "you haven't even told me anything about it." Avallac'h made an abrupt glance to another direction, as if he heard someone or something coming towards them, "in due time," the elf said, "but for now, we have run out of time. You must do what you came to make the journey further North. If not for me, or for the world, then do it for Ciri."

---------------------

Aemma woke with a gasp, eyes wide as she sat upright on the bed. She quickly looked around, sighing in relief when she realized she was still in Winterfell.

Part of her was going back to her vision, what almost transpired with Avallac'h, how quick the elf took offense to the point where he essentially threatened her with bodily harm (though Aemma wondered if that was remotely possible to something like that in a dream state when her physical form was separated)...when he brought up the fact that at one point he had planned to seek her out so as to eliminate her as one would the blight. It was clear the elven sage saw her as useful for now, but before that he had seen her as an abomination, and one that needed to be destroyed so as to preserve the sacred memory of the woman he once loved before losing her to another.

Despite their conversation, Aemma still had no reason to trust Avallac'h, even if he was fighting on the opposing side as Eredin and the Wild Hunt...but she trusted Ciri. And if the world truly was in danger because of this so called White Frost that was supposed to plague this world soon, and if Aemma and Ciri were the only hope of preventing this impending apocalypse, then she would need to put aside whatever uneasy feelings she had for Avallac'h for the time being.

On that cue, the door opened, and Sara walked in, "Oh! My Princess!" the woman exclaims, "thank the gods." "Sara?" "You are awake," Sara says with relief, as she approached Aemma, "we were all starting to worry." "Awake? I don't understand," Aemma frowns a bit, "Why was everyone worried-" "You don't know?" Sara frowned back, "Princess...you were asleep for three days."

"Three days?!" Aemma's eyes widen. Looks like her conversation with Avallac'h was longer than she anticipated. The elf did say time functioned differently in that place between space and time.

"Where...what of Jaecerys?" "He is well," Sara assures, "At least from what I heard." "...what do you mean?" "He...the prince was worried for you when...when you refused to wake," Sara explains, "and...he made it explicitly clear that you were to be well cared for if and when you awake...before him and my lord brother returned." "Returned? From where?" "The Wall," Sara answers, "something has come up there that required my brother's presence. Prince Jaecerys accompanied him on his journey."

Eyes wide, Aemma hastily began to move about the room, "princess?" Sara tries to stop Aemma, "princess you shouldn't exert yourself right now!" "I need to get to the Wall," Aemma insists, hastily gathering her sword and anything else she might need for the journey. "Princess?"

Aemma ignored Sara and kept hastily rushed to the divider to change out of her nightgown, but Sara stopped her, "princess, what is the meaning of this? Why this sudden need to go to the Wall?" Aemma saw the way Sara looked at her, thinking the princess had gone mad. "I...I don't know how to explain it in a way that wouldn't presume you to think me mad then you might already," Aemma admits, "but...I had a vision in my sleep. Something is going to happen there in the near future. I don't know when but it will occur when our brothers are present there. And...I could not foresee their fate..."

Sara's eyes widen, realizing Aemma may have indeed seen the future. "If that is the case..." Aemma gave Sara a surprised look. "I don't know if I should indulge in this madness," the Snow woman admits, "but if what you saw was the future...we should get you prepared then."

Aemma sighed, realizing Sara didn't think her as mad as anticipated. "The boys will already have three days ahead of you if you are to make it on horseback." "I can catch up to them on my dragon," Aemma points out. "Easier said then done, princess" Sara points out, "a late summer snow storm is approaching from further North. I'm not sure what experience your dragon has with snow storms, even light ones such as what is coming."

Aemma sighed, knowing that even though she has experience with snowy weather, Cirillia has never had to brave such obstacles before. As urgent as this all was, she couldn't put her dragon in that kind of position just yet. Sara had a point...Aemma would need to go on horseback. Cirillia could still follow though.

Aemma nods and goes behind the divider to change her clothes.

After a quick breaking of her fast, and quickly packing whatever provisions she would need, Aemma was escorted to the stables and mounted the horse offered to her. "May the Old gods watch over you," Sara bids as farewell. "May Destiny be in our favor," Aemma says back before she guides the horse towards the road to the Wall.

As expected, Cirillia saw Aemma depart from Winterfell, and the she-dragon followed suit. And as expected, as the snow started to fall as Aemma rode further North, the dragon began to slow down- almost to the point where the she-dragon was grounded- not appreciating how much colder it was getting compared to being in Winterfell.

Aemma prayed to the gods- the Old gods specifically- that this was not an omen of the impending arrival of the Wild Hunt.

---------------King's Landing------------------

You stood in anticipation and some trepidation as Aegon led you to the solar in his new chambers, having you take a seat while he went to pour himself some wine.

"I realize I had...not express an apology for the night of our first encounter, Your Grace," you bring up. "Think nothing of it, my Lady," Aegon says with an amused smile, "it's all in the past. I have completely forgotten it. I have no regrets for any decisions I've made concerning you. You seem to be good for my children, Jaehaerys especially. He adores you." "Yes, I...suppose he does," you say, still trying to decipher why Aegon wanted to talk with you in the first place.

You look to see the model of Valyria was there still intact, the same model you've seen Viserys work on every so often whenever you would bring Aemma here to visit him. You had some memories of when Viserys would take Aemma from your arms and sit her on his knee, telling her stories that had survived the Doom and been passed down from their ancestors.

Aegon took notice of the way you stared at the model, "you recognize that?" he asks. "I do, Your Grace," you confirm, looking around, "...I uh, I used to come in here every so often with Aemma, whenever the late King Viserys wished to spend time with his niece."

You took note of the way Aegon's mood turned sour at that statement. He took a considerable gulp of wine in response. "I have yet to decide if I want to keep this in place or not," he admits, taking you by surprise, "Part of me has half a mind to just crush it all into dust."

"I imagined you have some fond memories of this," you say, rather presumably, "I remember your father being borderline obsessed with this passion project of his, to recreate a scale model of Old Valyria to as close to accurate as what the real thing was like before the Doom." "Pfft, my father never bothered to show me any of this," Aegon scoffs, "he never cared for anyone in his family except for Rhaenyra...and Daemon to a certain extent."

Now that took you by surprise even more, "I...I have some trouble believing that, if I'm being honest." "Really?" Aegon scoffed again, taking a smaller gulp of wine this time, "you never noticed how...father fawned over Rhaenyra? Never having bothered to show even an ounce of affection for the rest of us? Nothing I've ever did was good enough for that man. He had 20 years to name me heir, and of course he would change his mind right when he was at death's door. I know deep down...he never liked me."

You frown a bit at that cryptic statement, "I didn't know it was like that," you admit, "forgive me, Your Grace." "You seemed to be under the impression he actually care for me," Aegon notes. "Well, it has been 16 years," you point out, "I'm certain a lot has changed in that time...but from what I have seen, it wasn't always like that." Aegon raised an eyebrow at that particular statement.

"It's just... I remember when your father invited Aemma and myself to King's Landing for your second nameday," you further explain, "I remember when we arrived at the kingswood, how Viserys held you up in his arms for all the lords and ladies to see. How everyone sang your praises. 'Aegon, Second of His Name on his second nameday. It was a joyous occasion for all who attended."

Aegon pondered that memory of yours. He, of course, had no memory of that day, so he would just have to take your word on it. You've given him no reason so far to lie to him, despite being the mother of a traitor.

"You are right on one matter," he says, "a lot had changed since last you were here. I have...no memories of my father showing that kind of love and affection for me as I grew into a man. And mother...well, I suppose she has her own way of...expressing her love for her children."

Again, you were taken by surprise. In some ways you kind of expected Alicent to be a little standoffish in the way she raised her children, given she was practically a child herself when she first became a mother. But to hear how much Viserys neglected the rest of his children, save for the child by his first wife...

"Mother tells me you have been through much," Aegon changes the subject, taking you away from your current train of thought, "she told me that...you did not abandon your daughter of your own volition as...some people in this keep would believe." Conveniently not mentioning that Aegon WAS one of those people, and also leaving out that he had some choice words in the past to describe you that he blatantly said to Aemma's face that resulted in her pulling him by the hair and punching him in the face.

"You loved Aemma?" "...she was my child, your Grace," you point out, "I carried her, I gave birth to her, and I never regretted it. I love her very much."

Aegon was silent for brief moment; there was nothing in your eyes to suggest there was nothing genuine in your statement, "Let me be the first to say express how sorry I am for your loss. Must not be the easiest thing in the world for a mother to be forcibly separated from her child and miss out on watching her grow into a woman."

"Thank you, your Grace." "Please call me by my name," Aegon insists, which surprised you even further. What kind of game was Aegon playing? It wasn't quite like the games Daemon played when he first brought you to court, you didn't exactly have any reason to believe Aegon saw you in that way...but it didn't exactly make you feel any less unsettled. What things have happened in the last 16 years that Aemma had yet to disclose to you when she was growing up? "...if that is what you wish...Aegon."

You could've sworn you saw Aegon smile when you said his name, part of him entertaining what the past could've looked like had you remained in the Red Keep, if you stayed here and raised Aemma...would some of that motherly affection have been given to him when he was growing up?

"Since we are being so familiar with each other," you bring up, "I must confess I was a little surprised you had married your sister Helaena. Last I was here, I was under the impression a betrothal had been brokered between you and my daughter."

Aegon felt himself go pale at that question. What was he to say to that? That his mother called off the betrothal because of that incident? That the reason said incident was incited at all was because of those unsavory words he said to Aemma concerning her mother? Words that made her mother out to be some kind of mutant loving whore that will spread her legs for any man that will have her?

As if the gods had actually sought to take Aegon out of this situation, a dragon's roar reverberated across the skies of King's Landing. Hearing said dragon, Aegon rushed over to the window. It didn't take much effort to realize it was Vhagar returning from Storm's End...along with her rider.

"I'll have to tell you of that story later," Aegon says, relief that he had an excuse, and hoping you would forget his promise on that, "right now, I have to greet my brother and and ensure our alliance with the House Baratheon has been secured."

While Aegon walked out, you look outside to see Vhagar circling the sky several times as she made her descent to the ground.

You didn't know why...but you felt a sense of foreboding from the way the old dragon roared in the sky. It sounded like she was mourning...regretful even, if dragons were even capable of expressing that kind of emotion.

Something in your gut was telling you something bad was going to happen...if it hasn't happened already.

Chapter 67

#hotd #the witcher #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #oc #jaskier #otto hightower #aemond x oc #lucerys velaryon #jaehaera targaryen #aegon ii #the Lady of Larks #avallac'h #crevan espane aep caomhan macha #sara snow #ciri

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