𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 || Aemond Targaryen

Chapter Two

In the somber shadow of the funeral, as the last echoes of mourning faded into the evening, we gathered for a feast. It was a strange contrast, the solemnity of loss against the backdrop of feasting, yet in our world, it was the way of honoring those who had passed. My mother, Princess Rhaenys, stood beside me, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of grief that had enveloped our family.

"You should go comfort your nieces, Lyanna. They lost a mother as you lost a sister," she advised, her voice soft yet carrying the weight of our shared loss. I knew the thought of losing another child haunted her; the very idea was a shadow that lingered too close.

I looked up at her, feeling the heavy burden of her sorrow and the expectation placed upon my young shoulders. "Mother, why must I? You know I've never been great with expressing feelings sometimes," I confessed, my gaze drifting towards Baela and Rhaena. I was close in age to them, yet in moments like these, I felt worlds apart, unsure of how to bridge the gap sorrow had carved between us.

"My sweet girl, just show them comfort," she encouraged, a gentle nudge towards the path of compassion. "I shall be over there soon with you after I speak with your father." With a nod, I accepted the task laid before me, the simple act of comforting others now feeling like a monumental endeavor.

Approaching my nieces, I found a space between Baela and Rhaena, enveloping them in an embrace that was more awkward than comforting at first. We sat together in silence, a quiet acknowledgment of the pain we shared. I fumbled for the right words, for some magic phrase that could ease their heartache, but found none. Instead, I shared a happy story of Laena, a memory that sparkled with her vitality and courage, hoping to remind us all of her spirit rather than her absence.

As my mother joined us, her presence a silent promise of support, I took my leave, bidding the twins a soft goodbye. My heart, still heavy with the day's emotions, sought a different kind of solace now. I wandered over to where my cousins Aemond and Aegon stood, their own grief a shadow that mirrored the one in my heart.

Standing there amidst the swirl of the feast, the air thick with the scent of wine and the low hum of conversation, I found myself caught in the orbit of my cousins Aegon and Aemond. Their gaze fixed upon Helaena, their words sharp and unguarded.

"She's an idiot," Aegon remarked with a dismissive glance at his sister, a future queen by all accounts yet not spared from his criticism.

"She's your future queen," Aemond pointed out, his tone laced with a mixture of disdain and resignation.

Their conversation drew me in, a reluctant participant in their critique. "You both are something else, dear cousin," I chided lightly, though my heart wasn't truly in the reprimand. Their antics, though often misguided, brought a semblance of distraction from the day's heavy sorrows.

"If it isn't the new lady of Driftmark," Prince Aegon greeted, his smile betraying a flicker of genuine interest. Conversations with him always veered into the unexpected, from tales of his dragon Sunfyre to more inebriated ramblings about life in the Red Keep. Rumors had even reached my ears about a potential betrothal, a political maneuver by Ser Otto Hightower to bind our houses and, more cynically, to secure the Valyrian fleet for any future conflicts over the crown.

"Hello bas- Lyanna," Aemond corrected himself, his slip almost betraying the cruel rumors that had once circulated about my legitimacy. Our relationship had always been complicated, tangled in a web of youthful affections and the manipulations of Queen Alicent. She had been quick to quash any hint of a crush between us by spreading lies of my supposed bastardy—a dangerous game that, if ever traced back to her, would have dire consequences.

"Why are you both talking about Helaena?" I inquired, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. Aegon, seizing the opportunity for a distraction, plucked two cups of wine from a passing tray, offering one to me. I declined with a shake of my head, not wishing to dull my senses or my wits.

"My dearest mother has betrothed Helaena to me. We have nothing in common," Aegon confided, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation. The idea of marrying his own sister seemed to repel him, his heart perhaps more inclined towards a union with me, but the queen's will was not to be disputed.

"She's our sister," Aemond interjected, a hint of duty in his voice, though the undercurrents of his feelings were harder to discern.

"You marry her, then," Aegon shot back, a challenge in his tone.

"I would perform my duty if mother had only betrothed us," Aemond mused, his gaze distant, lost in the complexities of their royal obligations.

Aegon, ever the provocateur, lightened the mood with a jest. "We actually do have one thing in common. We both fancy creatures with very long legs," he declared with a hearty clap of his hands, his laughter carrying him away in search of another cup.

"I shall have one soon," Aemond whispered, likely thinking his words had gone unnoticed. But I heard him, and in that moment, I glimpsed the depth of his ambition, a desire for a dragon of his own, perhaps. It was a fleeting insight into the complexities of Aemond, a reminder of the turbulent currents that ran beneath the surface of our family's facade.

As the night deepened and the feast's fervor dimmed to a mere whisper of its former jubilation, I found myself ensnared in conversation with sweet Helaena. Her innocence and grace were a balm to the day's sorrows, yet part of me remained vigilant, my attention discreetly divided. For I had noticed Aemond's absence, a void where his imposing presence once stood. My intuition, a silent guide, urged me to follow, to uncover what mischief or madness drove him from the warmth of hearth and kin.

Excusing myself with a gentle word, I slipped away under the guise of seeking solitude, my true purpose masked by a serene facade. The moonlit path led me to the beach, where the great Vhagar slumbered, a behemoth of scales and power, her breaths stirring the sands in gentle undulations. It was here, in the shadow of legend, that I found Aemond, his ambition laid bare in the moonlight.

"You stay away from her," I called out, my voice firm, brooking no argument. The audacity of his intent was a blaze in my chest, fury mingling with a fierce protectiveness over what was not his to claim.

"What do you want, bastard?" he spat back, venom tainting his words, a reflection of the lies that had long sought to mar my name.

"I am not a bastard," I retorted, standing my ground against the tide of his contempt.

"I believe you are. Now go before you get me caught," he sneered, pushing me with a force that sent me sprawling into the cool embrace of the sand. But I was quick to rise, my spirit unbroken, my resolve hardened like the steel of the dagger hidden within my dress.

As Aemond turned his back to me, daring to ascend Vhagar's massive form, a wild, untamed part of me surfaced. "I shall have your eye for laying your hand on me," I declared, my voice carrying across the distance between us, a vow whispered to the wind and the waves.

The world seemed to pause, the rush of the sea and the whisper of the wind falling silent as if in anticipation. "Dracarys," Aemond commanded, a word of power, a call to fire and destruction. Vhagar stirred, her massive head turning, golden eyes finding mine in the moonlit darkness. Her jaws parted, a cavern of impending doom, the glow of her breath a prelude to obliteration.

In that suspended moment, as the dragon's fire kindled within her throat, I closed my eyes, a silent acceptance of a fate dictated by another's hand. Yet, it was not fear that filled me, but a deep, unyielding resolve. For even in the face of death, I knew this truth: the fire that sought to consume me would, in turn, ignite a blaze within, a flame that could not be quenched by dragonfire or the disdain of princes.