Slaughterhouse ━━ Aemond Targaryen

𝖎𝖎𝖎. Half Savage and Hardy, and Free

♱

Chapter Three:
Half Savage and Hardy, and Free

(113 A.C.)

A fortnight before her brother's wedding, Vevienne dreams of blood.

It is as eerie as all her other dreams, but much more vague. She sees nothing but the blood, oozing through cracks in stone walls and pouring down onto the floor. It crawls towards her and pools at her feet, warm and viscous, as if it has a mind of its own.

Maester Seamus assures her that she is only having the dream because she is anxious about her own moonblood. After all, she is twelve now, and rapidly approaching womanhood. She will flower any moment, as her mother is so fond of reminding her. Every mention of such a thing fills Vevienne with overwhelming dread.

Thankfully, Ceria is a never-ending well of information when it comes to womanly matters. She has told Vevienne that drinking the juice of limes will delay her flowering, so Vevienne has made it a routine to eat two whole limes everyday. Now, her father thinks she is only overly fond of limeade and lime pastries, so he arranges for monthly deliveries from Bitterbridge, unknowingly aiding her in her plan.

At this rate, Vevienne will not see a single drop of her own blood until she is ready. Maybe she will never flower at all— she isn't sure that she'll ever be ready.

She shares in her family's joy for Orwen, truly. She's ecstatic— albeit a bit surprised— that he's managed to find someone he actually wants to marry. She's even happier about her mother's gaze being torn away from her and directed towards the wedding instead. But even then, it is difficult for Vevienne to enjoy herself fully when her family members are all winking and whispering about how 'this will be her soon'.

Vevienne does not wish to think about her own marriage. She is far too young to be burdened with the duties of womanhood and, frankly, the prospect of it makes bile bubble in the back of her throat. She does not wish to abandon her family's name or bear children or be a mistress to a castle, no matter how large. She sees marriage as a punishment akin to being thrown into a dungeon. No, all Vevienne wants is to be free to ride and play and read as much as she pleases, and such freedom will only be granted to her at Helgate.

Vevienne is tormented by the thought that she will no longer be living in her own home one day. That, instead of becoming a fearsome warrior, she will be a mother, chained to screaming babes for eternity. Even Skatha Darktongue herself could not tell Vevienne that such a life would be enjoyable— she has seen what motherhood has done to her own mother, and would sooner die than meet that same fate.

Again, Maester Seamus assures her that she will not marry for another four years or so, but that is still not enough time for Vevienne to come to terms with reality. How is she meant to sleep in a stranger's bed when she can hardly find comfort in her own? Sleep is a luxury ill-afforded by most— even highborn ladies, it seems.

So rather than rotting in her chambers when she cannot sleep through the night, Vevienne bides her early mornings outside, often on rides with Altair or wandering the grounds when he is particularly lethargic. She'll pick stray flowers and herbs, keeping them in a journal so that she might study or draw them later when she is bored, or build small houses made of sticks and mud in hopes of trapping a fairy or some strange insects. She is particularly fond of crafting weapons, and though she is no metalsmith by any means, her bow has been looking better and better everyday.

It is just after dawn— the most opportune time to ride, as the sun has only just awoken from its slumber and has not yet had time to warm the land. The birds arise and sing their morning song, perched on thick branches and the gates of the castle, basking in the sun rays that peek through thick clouds. She greets them with a smile, and they call out to her, almost beckoning her towards them.