𝔗𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 
IV. TROTH AND VOW   

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⋆｡˚﹕121 AC ⎯ 𝖣𝖱𝖨𝖥𝖳𝖬𝖠𝖱𝖪

AEMMA LONGED FOR her mother. She was huddled against her brothers, distressed and dishevelled. The three siblings were carefully discarded in Aemond being fussed over by the Queen Consort and the maestor. Along with all the on lookers, they had no one there to worry or fight for their perspective and accounts of what occurred.

"How could you allow such a thing to happen?" King Viserys seated upon the Driftwood Throne demanded the King's guard. The was a pause in the room. No one muttered a word. The silence was stifling, unyielding.

"I will have answers," King Viserys tried again. Aemma could see the distress that lined his face. It was not an uncommon this for Aemma along with her brothers and her Uncles to have a row of sorts every now and then. Aegon once put Helaena's precious spiders under the covers of Aemma's bedding in her chambers. Aemma had screamed in the following morrow when she had a dozen spiders crawling over her. Helaena had cried for days over loosing her beloved pets. And Aemma had found her revenge with her dear friend, dying of Aegon's clothing in numerous shades of a lustrous yellow. The Prince no longer had presentable clothing ⎯⎯ even the most luxurious clothing items wasted. No matter how much the maidservants washed the clothing, the yellow dye had barely faded, leaving a tarnished yellow hint of the prank. Not much had been salvaged and much had been no longer declarable for Prince Aegon to wear.

The Queen, Alicent Hightower had been furious at Aemma. Yet for many, the reputation of the young Velaryon Princess was nothing but prim and proper, perfectly respectable. Aemma's mother had been frazzled in shock and laughter, unable to believe the actions of her daughter but had been firm upon her daughter in a punishment. It was harmless fun, King Viserys had advised settling the matter and smoothing over the prank instantaneously.

Aemma knew, that unlike all those times before ⎯⎯ this was disastrous. Perhaps her house was truely divided after all. Ser Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander was the one who answered. "The Princes and Princess were supposed to be in bed, My King."

"Who had the watch?" King Viserys demanded, eyeing everyone around the room.

Ser Criston Cole spoke. "The young Prince was attacked by his own cousins, Your Grace."

Aemma found herself at unease at the back and forth questions and answers. She had gained injuries along side her brothers, although, she know it was not her place to interput Ser Cole.
King Viserys stood. Aemma saw the rage growing against his withering features. "You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!"

"I'm very sorry, Your Grace," Ser Westerling confessed.

"The King's Guard has never had to defend Princes from Princes, Your Grace," Ser Cole replied cooly.

Aemma was disheartned at the recognition of being discarded. But she found that she could not utter a word. Not until her mother was here.

"That is no answer!" King Viserys bellowed.

"It will heal, will it not, maestor?"

All eyes turned to Alicent Hightower who was utterly distraight at the unjuries her second son had endured. Aemma longed for their mother. For her attentive gaze, gentle touch and kind words. It was something only Rhaenyra could patch and weave back together.

"The flesh will heal. But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Alicent turned towards her eldest son. A rageful mother, her eyes wild and ravenous. "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon whispered in disbelief. Aemma flinched when Alicent slapped Aegon across the face. The sound was sickening and raw. She had known it had been painful for there was a bright red smear spreading across his pale check.

"Ow! What was that for?" Aegon whined.

Alicent eye's narrowed gazing upon her eldest child, her tone vicious. "That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in yout cups, you fool."

Corlys and Rhaenys bursted open the doors. Aemma watched as her grandmother raced over to Baela and Rhaena. Her grandsire stood still, reeling in confusion at the matter at hand. A matter of which that spiralled out of his control.  "What is the meaning of this?" Corlys demanded, his lady-wife Rhaenys descending beside him.

Aemma was filled with relief at the sight of her mother but found her eyes grow wet. All would be well but Aemma could no longer hold herself together. She could feel herself crumbling to pieces.

"Jace? Aemma? Luke!"

"Show me, show me," Rhaenyra spoke gently to her children. Aemma saw as her mother's gaze shifted from her wrist and other injuries and onto Lucerys twisted noise and Jacerys bruises and blood upon his face.

"Do not fret, shhhh," Rhaenyra spoke to Lucerys as he cried when he revealed due his mother the severity of his broken nose and the horrible pain he was enduring. "Who did this," Rhaenyra demanded, enraged noticing how her daughter almost collapsed without the support of her twin, unable to bear the weight of her ankle.

"They attacked me!" Aemond roared.

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

"He hit Jace!"

"He stole my mother's dragon!" Rhaena protested.

"He was gonna to kill Aemma!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You lie! How dare you lie?!" Aemma bellowed.

"Enough," Aemma heard her grandsire warn.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent interrupted, her voice voluminous over children.

"He called us⎯⎯," Jace began but the word bastards did not stumble from his lips as he was overshadowed by his grandsire, the King.

"Silence!" King Viserys yelled.

"He called us bastards," Jace whispered to Rhaenyra. Aemma nodded in agreement and she the severity and seriousness in her mother's gaze.

"Mother, he threatened to kills us."

Horror washes over Rhaenyra's face and she nods, rising and turning from her three children. It was something her mother had never wished to endure. Aemma watched as her mother gained her composure.

"Aemond. . . ," King Viserys began. "I will have the truth of what happened. Now."

Alicent had loosened her restraints, willingly wilting away her responsibilities as Queen onto her more dutiful role. The shift had shown a love a mother would only have for her children. "What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a reggretable accident," Rhaenyra spoke cooly, trying to calm down the matter at hand. That was often the position her mother had in hand with all kinds of family matters, alike her father the King, it was to keep the peace.

"Accident?" Alicent retorted. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son."

"It was my sons and daughter who were attacked and forced to defend themselves. Vile insults were levied against them."

It felt as if those gazes had sharpened ⎯⎯ a dagger to the throat. Many were waiting the response, aching for the insult to come to light, to be revealed to all within Driftmark and the Seven Kingdoms.

Aemma watches as her grandsire, King Viserys turns, "What insults?"

There was a pause before her mother spoke.
"The legitimacy of my daughter and sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" King Viserys speaks aloud, his face twisting in disbelief.

"He called us bastards," Jace admits.

"My sons and daughter are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

"Over an insult?" Alicent speaks aloud.

"He tried to kill me," Aemma whispers so softly no hears, it was almost as if she was trying to remind herself that it was the truth.

Alicent's face is riddled with disbelief yet in drowned in confirmation of what her child has lost but not what he had gained. "My son has lost an eye."

"You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?" Viserys, his father, the King demands.

The dementor in Alicent Hightower shifts. She speaks for her son, "the insult was training yard bluster. The lot of boys. It was nothing."

Alicent looks to her son Aemond and the two share a long look.

"Aemond. I asked you a question," Aemma watches her grandsire repeat.

Alicent shifts the conversation again. "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The children's father. Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

Viserys looks to his daughter, recognising the absence of her husband. "Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?"

Rhaenyra finds her words quickly, but Aemma notices that her mother stiffens ever so slightly. "I do not know, Your Grace. I. . . could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk."

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," Alicent amends, shining light on the absence nature of Aemma's father who often disregarded his duty.

Viserys ignores his lady-wife and looks to his son with great demand, "Aemond. Look at me. Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

An answer bursts from his lips with no hesitation or second guess. "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon whispers. Something in his tone and disbelief, in his voice from across the room Aemma can clearly see that he was not the one who spoke such things.

"And you, boy?" The King demands. "Where did you hear such calumnies?"

Aegon is silent. His gaze looks to Aemma and her brothers. There was a hesitance that wavered over his pale features. Aemma feels herself still, unable to relive air into her lungs.

"Aegon!" King Viserys shouts. "Tell me the truth of it."

"We know father. . . ," Aegon speaks clearly, forwardly before trying to find the next words to spill from his lips. "Everyone knows. . . Just look at them."

That tolerance of Aegon that Aemma held in her heart, shattered in an instant. She could not forgive him for those false words. Aemma's heart falters. Her hands grow clammy. Aemma looks to her mother but Rhaenyra's gaze is looking to her father, the King. It was an odd look. A pleading look. One Aemma had never seen.

"This interminable infighting must cease! All of you. We are family. . . Now make your apologies and show your goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

Rage and dissatisfaction is blossoming within the pools of Alicent's eyes. "That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, My King. 'Good Will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken," The Queen Consort admits darkly.

"What would you have be do?" King Viserys pleads.

"There is a debt to be paid," Alicent confesses and there is no remorse in her words.
"I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Lucerys tumbles, bringing Aemma with him. Jacerys faces it head on yet Aemma knows he is afraid. There mother grows ravenous, more angry and distilled that Aemma had ever seen her.

Upon the withering and ill-paled face of the King, he pleads with his second wife, wishing to find peace within his family, "My dear wife. . ."

"He is your son, Viserys. Your blood," Alicent tried again.

"Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement. Allow this night to cease. We shall discuss the matter in the morrow as a family. Allow all the children to be tended to and rest."

Alicent withers, falling away defeated. Her eyes are glossy and wet with tears.

"'My dear wife," Viserys whispers softly, sharing his thoughts. "I cannot think of any way to amend this other than a way of uniting the families as one. I-I propose we betroth our son Prince Aegon to Princess Rhaenyra's and Ser Laenor's daughter Princess Aemma."

"What?" Aegon demands. His eyes as wide as saucers. He looks to his niece and they both share a startled and disapproving look. The match between them both was unfitting ⎯⎯ the two knew they were not well suited for one another.

"We are both betrothed to respectable matches, Your Grace. Aegon is already betrothed to dear Helena and I, to Cregan Stark in the North," Aemma amends, finding her voice but it is shaky and delicate.

The King looks to her, his gaze is gentle. An evident constant to how he looked to Aegon. It was a look similar to one she would share with his daughter, her mother Rhaenyra.

"We shall discuss this in the morrow. I give you my troth and vow," the King confirms again. His gaze glancing between his daughter and granddaughter. Aemma feels her mother hands upon her shoulders as she is overcome with her nerves, trying to soothe her. Alicent Hightower scoffs, clearly displeased and something has grown to enrage the Queen Consort.

How could she be unsatisfied? When all Aemma's grandsire hoped to achieve was peace and settle the matter without no more disputing as a family.

"Viserys—" Alicent begins but there is a look upon his face that Aemma had not seen before. It was one of dominance.

"You are letting your womanly emotions rule in your judgement in this misfortunate event. Not logic! That is enough Alicent. My word, of your husband and King is final."

"If the King will not seek justice the Queen will," Alicent commands, gaining her composure. Aemma watches as her grandsire turns, leaning upon his cane, disbelief shimmering in his eyes.

"Ser Criston. . . bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother," Lucerys mumbles, tumbling in his feet.

"Alicent!" King Viserys raises his voice wishing to silence his lady wife but falters.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son."

"You will do no such thing."

"Stay your hand."

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent distills.

"As your protector, my Queen," Ser Criston complying to her words and his oath.

The King and Queen share a gaze for a few mere seconds before he speaks, "Alicent, this matter. . . is finished. Do you understand?"

"And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons and daughter should have it removed."

"Thank you, father," Rhaenyra says gratefully, her tone hinting with relief.

Aemma's watches as her mother turns, crouching before herself and her brothers.

It all happens in a blur, Alicent Hightower moves towards her mother at a rapid speed, a dagger in hand.

"Your Grace."

"Alicent!"

"Stay with the King!"

"Hold your approach!"

Lucerys screams, tumbling to Aemma and Jacaerys when their grandsire Corlys shields all his grandchildren behind him including Aemma's two younger cousins. Rhaenys pulls Aemma and her brothers securely into her protective embrace.

"Do not, Ser Criston!" Replies Harold as he leaps through the crowd of people.

"Alicent!" Viserys roars, kept held in place by the guard.

Aemma can hear the murmur of voices but cannot make out the words they are saying. All Aemma knows is that she is afraid.

"Alicent let her go!" Viserys roars. Aemma has never seen her grandsire like this before. So enraged.

"Release the blade, Alicent," the Hand to the King, Otto Hightower soothes.

In an instant the two dismantle moving away from one another and in its wake a haggard cut pools with blood, dripping down Rhaenyra's arm.

"Do not mourn me mother. It was a fair exchange," Aemond's words soften and soothe his mother. "I may have lost an eye. . . but I gained a dragon."

"This proceeding is at an end," the King amends his gaze settling upon his wife with rage and dissatisfaction.

"Mother," Aemma whispers seeing the far away look in her mother's eyes and the blood staining at the sleeves of her dress.

Aemma looks at the hem of her skirts trying to tear at it. A hand rests on her shoulder and it is her Uncle Daemon.

"Easy now Aemma," he says with a hint of a smile but his voice is gentle, warm even. Aemma stops, faltering in her actions. He is far from the Rogue Prince whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep. Daemon turns to her mother, attending to her with care before noting the look that was still shared between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

Far away, upon the steps, Aegon looks to Aemma with her wind tousled sliver locks and clearly distressed expression. She was kind of handsome enough but not of an age that Aegon desired in a future lady wife. Aemma was still a girl who was meant to plague the halls with her fantasies of being a fierce warrior or knight or whatever it was that she mumbled on about.

Even with the formal proceedings it is evident that his father had made his choice —- one declared to witnesses nonetheless. There was satisfaction in knowing that his mother's plans had been dismantled and he would no longer marry his sister Helaena. . .

Princess Aemma Velaryon would be Prince Aegon's lady-wife.