Elaena stared worriedly at the desolate corner of High Tide's sept.

The wispy cobweb she'd grown accustomed to danced loosely in the hall's soft breeze. Her soft lilac eyes widened in concern.

Skoriot iksā, Riña Pālegon? She thought.
(Where are you, Lady Spin?)

The large arachnid had made a home of the sept's high corner. Elaena would watch as she danced about her web, spinning and inching along the threads.

A year prior, she had captured Elaena's attention, just within her peripheral, during her lessons with Septa Hyacinth. And just as with the painting of her mother in her bedchamber, she'd used Lady Spin as a means for calm against the septa's thunderous scowl.

"Where is your mind, girl?" The sneering woman said suddenly. Elaena's eyes snapped to meet Hyacinth's icy gaze. Her skin was fair and sunken with age. The rest of her form was hidden under her heavy garb, but Elaena believed the woman had dark hair hiding beneath her conservative veil.

If Elaena hadn't known any better, she would say the woman had risen from one of the coffins in the Gullet.

"Apologies, septa." Elaena breathed, looking down to her hands.

"I do not want your apology, nor did I ask for it. It is sinful to undermine the histories of the Faith," Hyacinth hissed through an expression of stoicism, "You should be thanking your Gods for not damning you to the deepest of the Seven Hells... more times than once."

Elaena heard the end of her statement even as the woman attempted to mutter it. The girl swallowed and bowed her head further while fiddling with her fingers.

Yet again, she was reminded of her treacherous blood. She heard of it in High Tide's seven-walled sept the most, whispers of a slander which bore a harsh weight on her.

The Faith detested bastardy, and it was believed that her mother had been a bastard. Elaena was not, as Vaemond had publicly married Ophelia, but if she was of the blood, she was one by proxy.

"Now," Hyacinth continued while Elaena gnawed at her bottom lip with glassy eyes, "Continuing with... Ah, let's see, page one-hundred-twelve of our Seven-Pointed Star... 'Spirits, wights, and revenants shall never harm a pious man, so long as he arms himself with the Faith...'"

Elaena's eyes trailed back up to the desolate corner. Just where was her little friend? Had she fallen? Had she left Driftmark with no intention of return? How had she crossed the vast seas surrounding them? How could Elaena not notice her absence quicker?

Damn it all. She thought. There I go again.

She didn't understand why her mind could not simply focus on the tasks at hand. Hyacinth's quaking, but stern voice continued on. Elaena was bored, of course, but she found it unnerving just how easily her attention could be snatched away from what was expected of her.

And it was not simply how easily her attention was taken from the old woman teaching next to her, but also from Lady Spin.

She always took note of the spider the moment she entered the hall, and Lady Spin was always waiting. This time was different: Lady Spin was not at home, and Elaena did not immediately look for her upon entry.

Her mind had been elsewhere since her talk with Rhaenys. It had remained on Westeros's newly-named outcast.

Prince Aemond Targaryen, the Dragonbane.

"Even Prince Daeron has a dragon," Rhaenys had said, "The youngest of all of them. It must be terribly frustrating for the King's second son."

Elaena could only imagine. She had endured the frustration of knowing she would never be able to have a dragon, whilst knowing her cousins in Pentos and Dragonstone would. At the very least, she had no Targaryen blood, so she did not have to suffer the false hope of possibly claiming one.

The same could not be said for Prince Aemond. Not at all.

She wondered what it felt like to be the King's second son and dragonless. Her father was the second son of Driftmark, but that was nothing compared to the position within the royal family.

In the prince's shoes, he stood little chance of inheriting the throne. And since Prince Daeron had been appointed to Oldtown, Prince Aemond stood little chance of inheriting that seat either. What did that mean for him?

And to question being able to have a dragon, the right of all Targaryens...

Elaena felt a strange tug on her heart for the young prince. If people all the way in Driftmark whispered about him, what did he live through in King's Landing? Did he mind such words? Or was he too pampered to care?

These thoughts overtook Elaena's mind fervently. She went from thinking of the legitimacy of the whispers to how they may affect the prince to what the prince may have looked like.

Did his features reflect his inabilities? Was there something in his form that proved to everyone there was something wrong with him... just as there were things about her?

She started to think of being in the presence of the silver-haired boy. What would she say? What could she say to him? What would he say back, if anything at all? Was he amiable, or would he look down on her as everyone else did?

Would he be my friend?

Something solid and rough smacked against Elaena's temple, and she bounced back from the impact. Her thin fingers immediately raised to her head, covering the stinging area, and she turned to see Hyacinth glaring down at her with the leather clad Seven-Pointed Star held tightly in her grasp.

"You harebrained simpleton, do you not hear me calling for you?" The old woman sneered. She turned to bow her head to the seven mother-pearl statues standing at the sept's alter, "Forgive me, my Gods, for I can only entertain so much insolence to Your Honor." She turned back to scowl at Elaena, "Have you not been listening to a word I have said?"

Elaena's lip quivered as her eyes glassed up again. She parted her lips, trying to formulate an apology but failing on account of her tightening chest. Hyacinth glared at the girl's tearing eyes just as the sept's grand doors opened.

The old woman turned sharply at the intrusion before slowly lowering her holy book and softening her stance.

"Ser Vaemond." Her tight voice acknowledged. Elaena looked past Hyacinth's towering form to see her father standing in the doorway of the sept.

"Good morrow, septa." His velvety voice echoed through the space to Elaena's ears. A chill went down her spine as she dropped her gaze in reverence. Her fingers fell from her inflamed temple, and she listened to her father's approaching footsteps.

"We were just going over the Seven-Pointed Star should you wish to join us, ser." Hyacinth said, her tone much lighter as she crossed her hands in front of her pleasantly.

"Perhaps another time," Vaemond said, a polite but tight smile on his lips, "I came to fetch Lady Elaena for a lunch."

Elaena's eyes snapped up to meet his. The softness of his gaze shifting to stoicism as he looked to her. Her heart stuttered and her throat went dry.

"Come." He said simply to her and she flinched slightly before nodding.

On one hand, she was endlessly grateful that he had arrived when he had. That icy glare from Septa Hyacinth rivaled even Maester Morgrym's.

On the other hand, she felt incredibly apprehensive to her father's acknowledgment. She generally saw him when moving about the castle, dropping her gaze whenever his sharp violet eyes met her small form.

Her eyes may have been her one saving grace from being completely disowned by the man, but even they did not fully signify the blood of Old Valyria. Vaemond's eyes, like the eyes of most Targaryens, Velaryons, and Celtigars, glowed a bluish-purple. Elaena's eyes were a warmer, softer shade—as if hazel had blended into the richness of the bright violet in her irises.

As if Ophelia had been trying to break through what little Vaemond had given to Elaena.

It sickened him. It sickened him because against his better judgement, he loved it. In a different world, a different life, a different position, he could have gazed at the little girl for hours on end. But in that world, that life, and his position, he needed the perfect heir to what little he had claim to.

He needed an heir whose mere appearance would not raise questions. His daughter, his only child, should have looked the spitting image of him.

The thought was clear every time his glare met her shrinking body. It was apparent even while he didn't look at her as they made their way to the dining hall. The silence was deafening, and Elaena was relieved when they finally arrived. She walked next to him like a shadow, waiting for some signal of his to show her how to act.

Vaemond moved to pull out the seat next to the head of the table. She looked at him with wide eyes, and he flickered his gaze to the seat. She understood the silent order and hesitantly moved to sit down. Once her bottom hit the chair, Vaemond pushed it forward, and its screeching caused Elaena's heart to stutter.

She quickly reached up to pull her bright netting over her dark coils, only allowing the start of her hairline to show.

Vaemond sat beside her at the head of the table as servants began to set their courses. Elaena could smell the fresh catches smoking under the cloches, and they were unveiled as fillets of salmon, tuna, and herring. The greens were imported, as were the fruits.

Elaena frowned.

She only cared for the salmon... slightly. Suddenly, she prayed Rhaenys would burst into the room and take her away. In fact, she was meant to meet with her godmother for lunch, archery, and supper.

She loved archery, almost as much as she loved Rhaenys coaching her. It was her greatest outlet. She also had her lips fixed around the shellfish platters Rhaenys always promised her. So Elaena hoped her father's sudden interest would not impede on their plans—

"Elaena."

She turned, her father's deep tone cutting through her thoughts. His gaze was set under furrowed eyebrows, and she swallowed.

"Yes, Father." She said, sitting up straightly in her seat. She didn't know what this gathering was for, but she knew Vaemond would be analyzing her progress above all else. The longer she failed, the longer she would have to wait before she could venture out.

"Skorkydoso emagon ao issare?" He asked, and Elaena blinked.
(How have you been?)

This threw her off—if Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, she was to do the same. She would have bet all the stags in Rhaenys's pocket, and maybe a few gold dragons, that he would have demanded her to speak in Common Tongue.

"I-Iksan sȳrī, Kepa." She breathed, fiddling her fingers drastically under the table.
(I am well, Father)

Elaena was very unnerved. What was he playing at?

Vaemond chuckled slightly, "Nyke nūmāzma, skorkydoso iksis aōha verdagon?"
(I mean, how is your progress?)

Elaena's heart stuttered again. She had just escaped the wrath of Hyacinth from losing focus. And two days prior, Morgrym had sent her away disappointedly. She chewed at the inside of her cheek.

"Issa sȳrī hae sȳrī." She breathed quickly, not wanting to lie further. A part of her was anxious at the idea of him already knowing of her struggles, that he was testing her now. It was too late to retract her words.
(It is well as well.)

Vaemond hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. He nodded thoughtfully, letting her reply linger in the air.

He continued to ask her about particular parts of her studies, and she noted pieces that came to her mind immediately. Before her quivering lips could render her useless, he would ask about them further. As unnerving as his interrogation was, she was thankful for his questions because it forced her to focus.

Parameters kept her mind from wandering.

"And what of your Common Tongue?" He asked, cutting into his tuna. Elaena struggled to finish her salmon, settling more for her fruit.

"Godmother claims I am fluent now." She muttered, sinking a bit from having to switch back to the language.

"Your aunt possesses a kind and patient heart," He responded, and Elaena swallowed stiffly, "I cannot say the same for the general population of the realm."

I cannot say the same for you either. Elaena thought before banishing the sinful remark.

"Still, you are already doing far better than your mother ever did." Vaemond commended, though his words were like a dagger to her heart.

What was it about the day that made him so forward with her? He never spoke to her, and even more rarely spoke of her mother. Why now?

"Perhaps..." Vaemond sighed, and Elaena peered up at him, "Perhaps, it could prove to be enough..."

Elaena's heart stopped all together. Her eyes widened as she looked completely at Vaemond. Was he saying...?

He chewed and shrugged at her.

"Perhaps." He muttered, continuing to cut into his fish, "But perhaps a certain digression could hinder the possibility."

And there it was. He had known. It had not been a simple gathering, or a discussion about her and her learnings. It had been a threat. Elaena's hopeful eyes broke as he paid her no mind and feasted.

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't think of the words to prove to him that she was ready. She barely believed she was. She only knew she couldn't stay in Driftmark forever.

"Ke-Father..." She stammered, failing to gain his attention from his food. She swallowed down her building tears, "I am trying, I..."

"Try harder." He said simply, and her lips sealed.

Her little appetite faded completely, and she fisted the fabric of her skirts while her heart beat against her chest. She breathed until she was sure her building tears wouldn't rush out of her eyes.

"Yes, Kepa." She breathed, and his indifferent gaze met hers. It held for a moment until the doors to the dining hall burst open.

Elaena jumped at the eruption, her gaze shooting to the doors to see Corlys. The sight of her uncle forced her to stifle her emotions further. His presence brought a better calm than her father's, making her feel as though she could relax into her feelings. But she couldn't allow Vaemond to witness her distress.

It was also the look on Corlys's face that forced Elaena to push her emotions back. He did not take a further step into the room, seeming restrained at the door. Vaemond's chair screeched back as he stood to acknowledge his stiffened lord.

"Brother?" He called, his tone wavering between concern and confusion.

Corlys's expression was pained. Struggling, as though he was trying to keep up his stoicism as well as breathe. His lips parted and closed against bared teeth, and Elaena and Vaemond looked on in tense suspense.

And then she heard a wheezing cry echo through the halls. Her heart stuttered, eyebrows furrowed before the cry echoed again with verbal construction.

"No!"

Elaena's blood ran cold. It was Rhaenys's voice she heard. Without thinking, she bolted out of her chair and ran past her uncle. Vaemond called after her, but she ignored his voice in search of her godmother.

Just outside of the main hall, the woman was folded over on the ground. Her wails filled the room, the corridors connecting the main hall, all of High Tide. A few maids, a maester, and his ward circled her, attempting to calm the hysterical princess.

"No! No, no, nooo!" She hollered as Elaena came to kneel beside her. A blistering scream rushed from her lips and Elaena's stifled tears sprang forth.

What could've possibly caused her godmother to break down this way? Elaena had never witnessed Rhaenys in such a state, nothing worse than her general melancholic gaze.

"Godmother!" She called desperately, wrapping her arms around Rhaenys. One of the maids grabbed Elaena up, and she was pulled back from the princess.

She tried to meet Rhaenys's eyes, but they were closed in agony. Elaena continued to pull against the young maid's hold until she noticed a tarnished piece of parchment on the ground.

She drew closer to the scroll, struggling to focus on its flowing handwriting beyond her godmother's distress.

Amidst Rhaenys's cries, Elaena could only register one sentence. The sight of it caused her to glance at the maids, maester, and ward in disbelief. Their expressions did little to discourage the message on the floor, as they all looked at Rhaenys in bleeding sympathy. Elaena slumped to the ground in defeat.

The maid released her, and she carefully crawled back to her godmother, hugging on to her as the written words rang in her shocked mind.

Lady Laena is dead.

———

Yikes, man. Rhaenys did not deserve this bs, I will die on that hill. And the fact it only gets worse for her like, wtf GRR 🗿.

Anywho, I have been in the worst case of writer's block. Universe_Itself purplewriter_x and AHoleForAemond have been such great helps with encouraging me to keep going, I just didn't remember starting a story being THIS difficult.

Also I'm getting annoyed by the lack of Aemond content, like I have been watching the same clips over and over in different edits for WEEKS.
GIVE US FREE HBO PLEASE 😫

How are we feeling about this chappie? Sorry for the shortness of it (that's what he said,) I just decided to cut a chapter in half because it got REALLY long and I was like this second half could be it whole chapter. So that'll be up soon and then the REAL fun begins😘

Vaemond is the reason for my distrust in men ngl, like how tf can you be so cold to such a doll baby? I feel like things are starting to pick up a bit, cuz as y'all have read from the book description, it takes a certain funeral for our baby girl to finally make his entrance.

STAY TUNED, thanks for reading!