𝔗𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐇
V. TIES OF THE DRAGON

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⋆｡˚﹕121  AC ⎯ 𝖣𝖱𝖨𝖥𝖳𝖬𝖠𝖱𝖪

THE MOMENT AEMMA reached her appartments chambers, she let out a heart-wrenching sob sinking to the floor with the arms of her mother around her. The world was burning in fire and ash. Aemma had not chosen this. Her fate was out of her hands, snatched from her grasp by the gods of her ancestors sent her spiralling.

"My sweet girl," Rhaenyra whispered, her fingers brushing and gently smoothing her daughter's sliver-haired tresses. "I know. I know.
Say the word and together you and I shall fly away on dragonback to Dragonstone."

There was something whimsical, story-like in her mother's suggestion. It was a faded dream, one that had plunged beneath the surface, never to be found again. In the events that transpired Aemma had her girlhood snatched from her fingertips. There were whispers in the hall at times of the old Queen, Viserys' first wife, Rhaenyra's treasured and beloved mother though faded and fleeting in memory. Some spoke of her sacrifice in childbirth for her son that had passed swiftly within two days. It was unfitting and unseemly that the granddaughter of Aemma Arryn who shared her namesake with her grandmother was now sacrificed once again for duty and the Iron Throne.

"I wish I was strong and dutiful alike you mother," Aemma cries into her hands, ignoring the line of stitches that danced across the base of her mother's wrist. It was her mother's love and protection of her children that had wounded her in the moments Alicent had sliced her with the Valyrian dagger.

"I am everything but," Rhaenyra whispers softly only for the two to hear, almost as if it was a secret only the two shall share. There grows to be a strain in her voice, resentment in the words that fumble out her lips. "The betrothal is upon your terms. My father once offered the same choice for me. I will naught think less of you if you chose otherwise and remain betrothed to Cregan Stark in the North. You are to make your own choice with your grandsire before we make our departure for Dragonstone."

Aemma does not answer for a time as she rises to sit upon the bed. She stares blankly, tears dripping down her face like candle wax. Her mother looms before her on her knees, her hands gripping her daughters with a warm and attentive gaze.

She was slipping and spiralling even more than before. Aemma could not deny that. In these moments she could acknowledge that and note: how could she make an impossible choice? How could she make a decision that could change the basis of her life?

"Sister!" A voice calls, opening the double doors to Aemma's quest chambers. The figures at the door are Aemma's two brothers —— Jacaerys and Lucerys. Evident concern is written across there features over her sudden departure and the tears Aemma had attempted to hide over the past moving suggestions of their grandsire. Frustration lingers in the eyes of Jacerys. His role as her elder brother was her protector as kin and he had failed her in those moments. But his frustrations had interpreted his sister's conversation with their mother.

"Oh, uh, pardon me. My apologies mother. Aemma," Jacerys mumbles.

"I believe it is best we let Aemma rest," Rhaenyra announces to her two sons, noticing the discomfort and tense shift in Aemma's demeanour. "A lot has transpired in a mere few hours."

Rhaenyra looks to her daughter with a gentle smile, "get some rest, my sweet girl."

Aemma watches as her mother and twin vacate the room. But Lucerys lingers. His gaze is worried, nervous.

"Do you wish me to stay?" Lucerys suddenly confesses to his elder sibling, his words a mumbled mush. Aemma smiles bright and sunny, remembering when she was a few years younger. Lucerys when he was would clamber into Aemma's bed when he had night terrors and his sister would fiercely protect him from any danger. It was known fact that he would always go to Jacerys first but would would always decline saying that Lucerys kicked and talked in his sleep. Aemma was gentler like their mother.

"Thank you, Luke. But I'll manage. I have much to ponder on."

"Goodnight Aemma," Lucerys said softly before turning and following their mother and brother, closing the apartment doors behind him.

THE MORNING WAS a resentful affair by the time the sun had risen, plaguing the sky with shades of oranges and pinks. Aemma had little to no sleep and no matter what she did to try and soothe herself sleep would not come. Aemma knew her duty as her mother's daughter. She knew the order of things even at her young age. Aemma knew that despite her mother's gentle offer there was nothing to be done against the word of the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

A horrid feeling gnawed at Aemma's stomach, it was fluttery and ruinous. It left her queasy and unsteady. Not even her mother's calming presence could soothe her from what plagued her heart, mind and soul.

"All will be well," Rhaenyra promised her, admiring her dear daughter in the mirror before them both.

"Mother?" Aemma whispers, her voice strained. Tears linger at the corner of her blue eyes, threatening to stain her cheeks. The sight of herself, freshly bathed with her hair elegantly braided and adorned in the most elegant of her dresses, one in the colour of her house ⎯⎯ mighty steel blue, embroidered with a sliver detail of dragons dancing across the hem of her skirts. Despite it all, with a close eye upon the girl, any could see the exhaustion that lay across her features.

"Oh my dear girl. What is troubling you?" Rhaenyra pleaded, unsettled at the sight of her daughter discontented and greatly troubled.

"Will you accompany me when I speak with grandsire?"

"Of course, my sweet girl."

"I do not wish to be alone."

"Aemma, alone you will not be," Rhaenyra promised with a firm smile, giving her daughter's shoulders a gentle squeeze. Aemma still struggled with weight upon her ankle, the pain in her wrist had not subsided either. But those pains she felt had to be discarded in these upcoming moments.

It was duty. It was sacrifice. It was honour.

Aemma felt numerous times better with her mother at her side, simply by knowing that she had her mother to protect her and govern the situation. Her mother would fight for her in every way she could.

Upon entering the hall of High Tide, it was evident that there were no scars that remained of the night before. Seated upon the Driftwood Throne, King Viserys appeared to have worsened over the events of the night prior and Aemma felt herself stiffen with great worry alongside her mother at the mere sight of him. The Lord Hand, Otto Hightower remained at the King's side. Aemma knew that he was a domineering man even at her young age and he often frowned upon her with great distaste. His expression was hard and cold. Aemma found herself reaching for her mother's hand in his presence. Evidently, the absence of Alicent Hightower only continued put forwards her sour and cold nature before Rhaenyra's children. Especially Aemma. Who was more of a mirror of her mother than any throughout the realm seemed to realise.

To Aemma's surprise King Viserys had the opposite reaction. All that had tired him, worsened him after the nights events that had left him shallow and weakened more so than before. Yet it was almost as if his illness was almost a mere whisper in the wind in that moment.

King Viserys smiled ever so fleetingly. Aemma saw a glimpse of the man that she knew her mother could see. He was no longer the man that was so ill and absent from his duties as a husband, father and grandsire but in these short, stolen moments ⎯⎯ King Viserys was evanescently whole again. He could remember and his mind was not clouded. All would be well. Peace would be ensured through the ties of the dragon.

"Your Grace ⎯⎯ grandsire," Aemma spoke clearly. "I have come before you to ⎯⎯," the doors burst open to reveal Aegon and halted the words Aemma had so carefully rehearsed.
Aegon was embellished in a startling black velvet and satin attire. It looked to be as if he a was a pool of darkness, a fallen star birthed in order to shake the universe. It was a dire change from his typical green. Aemma had never seen Aegon so sober either. He was courtly and graceful. A sight Aemma had never witnessed. He almost looked enough to be justified as his father's first born son with his sharp face shining with fierceness.

Aegon took his place beside Aemma. The smirk that lined his face was smug and prudent. It got under Aemma's skin almost immediately. She did not reattempt to discuss the matter with her grandsire ⎯⎯ the King. Aemma simply fell into shadow.

"Father, there is a pressing matter that must be brought forth. My only daughter Princess Aemma has already been betrothed to Cregan Stark in the North."

Viserys let out a staggering cough before he spoke and Aemma found her blue eyes widen in concern at the sight. "I shall send a raven myself to Lord Stark of the North. The betrothal of Prince Aegon and Princess Aemma shall remain undisputed at by my own word and will."

Aemma had never even met Cretan Stark. Arrangements were made for it to occur the following year. All she knew that he was a few years older and that he seemed kindly and honourable enough and rather good with a sword. A respectable husband to be. A keen political arrangement, although, Aemma would never acknowledge it as such, she did not have the heart to tire herself with falsities.

"Father, the arrangement between my daughter and Cregan Stark of the North will bring forth a harrowing loss between both house Targaryen and Stark. It would be a political disaster in its wake ⎯⎯"

"Princess," The Hand chimes in, cutting the Princess off. "The matter has been settled. Prince Aegon of house Targaryen will wed Aemma Velaryon. The Queen Alicent Hightower herself supports it. It is now by the King's word that the union will bring forth ties of the dragon."

"My decision lies with my daughter, Princess Aemma," Rhaenyra firmly, her pale hand tightening upon her daughter's with a fierce protectiveness. "My brother ⎯⎯ Prince Aegon was to wed my sweet sister Princess Helaena. There is evident disruption in this predicament."

Aegon looked to his older sister. It was unmistakable that her words were an act ⎯⎯ a plea to their father to merely protect her daughter. A notion which would work by all previous examples Aegon knew of. Aegon knew that his choice would halt hid whore of a sister from having her way.

Aemma looked to Aegon in those moments. Her startling stormy blue eyes were riddled with confusion and did not shy away ⎯⎯ born with her mothers distinct Targaryen features she could play the part. Few would ever believe that she was a bastard to begin with. Her brothers not so much. Even if she had shared a womb with her older twin Jacerys.

Aegon looked to Aemma with an unyielding gaze of promise, "I choose to wed Princess Aemma Velaryon."

Aemma refused to crumble under the gaze of her grandsire. She had blood of the dragon. Yet, she could hear her heart beat, thundering in her chest like one of her father's broodmares.

All Aemma could think of was that despite of the well prefound and honourable nature of House Stark, descriptions and such could be tallied with falsehood and distorted over time. Aemma was a girl of one and eleven. The North was not made of the fire in the blood of House Targayren. Aemma would be chilled to the bone and endure cold seasons. . . It seemed relentlessly unpleasant for a Targaryen and her dragon. Aegon on the other hand would allow Aemma to remain close to her family as what would allow a married lady-wife. She would never have to leave home. Aemma found herself at times kindred to Aegon in his mischief and chaos. He could act in all the ways she wishes she could. Despite all this, an arrangement between the two could be made between themselves right?

"I accept," Aemma said plainly, standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back, trying to hide the resentment in her tone. Aegon looked to her with great surprise and secret elation. Better the whores daughter than his younger sister Helaena who was riddled with oddities and madness.

Rhaenyra had a look that pleased Aegon. She had paled ever so slightly and a slight frown creased her eyebrows. After a few heartbeats, the Heir to the Iron Throne regained composure.

"Father, I wish to have a word with you. . . Privately."

"Leave us at once, all of you," The King of the Seven Kingdoms demanded noting the pleading gaze of his daugther. The Hand slowly vacated the room hesitently, along with the Kings guard. "Aegon, my son, escort your betrothed to her chambers in preparations for our return to King's Landing."

Aemma looked to her mother, pleadingly also. Her grandsire did not know of her mother's plans to reside on Dragonstone. Aemma had great fear that she would be left behind. She felt as if was nothing but a pawn to resolve a family dispute.

Aemma reluctantly followed Aegon out of the hall. She refused to look in his direction, merely unable to detest the feeling of unease that fluttered it's way into her stomach. She did not know what to say or how to address Aegon. He very much held little affection for her, in fact, it was evident he despised her.

Helaena bounded towards Aemma and Aegon at an alarming speed. Her sliver hair was longer than Aemma's and it swished as she paced down the hall. Halaena was a lot more graceful and nimble than Aemma. Aemma felt she was clumsy and rather homely. All that did not matter for Helaena did not hold any resentment to Aemma over what had happened late at night.
Somehow Aegon chose you, Aemma told herself. The thought of moments ago left her reeling in confusion. How were things changing so quickly?

"Helaena!" Aemma cheered, finding joy in her Aunt's company which would now overshadow the uneasy newfound nerves that graced her when she stood by her betrothed.

"I came here in the disposition that my mother would not know," Helaena whispered, inching towards the younger girl, hands clasped before her with a smile. Helaena seemed to have ignored Aegon who rolled his eyes them both.

"Oh Aemma," Helaena began, her arms pulling the younger girl into an embrace. "Of all my brothers! He won't pay much attention to you. I believe at times you'll forget he even is your betrothed."

In other words: let Aegon drown in his cups, he'll forget you that way.

"Come with me," Aemma muttered, clasping her fingers around Helaena's dragging the older girl with her.

"Princess, surely you are not going to abandon me?" Aegon muttered watching Helaena stumble after her niece and his newfound betrothed.

"My own dear sister?"

Even Helaena knew to ignore Aegon.

"I merely wish to see what my mother and grandsire are conversing about?" Aemma called after, not one bit slowing down to call out to Aegon. "Do you wish to know what they are speaking of or not?"

Aegon sighed in a dramatic manner and followed Aemma and Helaena down the hall.